ANL-142  Back Door Humpers
[aka 'Swapping Analists']
by Roger Caine


TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction
CHAPTER ONE - The Anal Hedonist
CHAPTER TWO - The Anal Sadist
CHAPTER THREE - The Anal Reluctant
CHAPTER FOUR - The Anal Homosexual
CHAPTER FIVE - The Anal Masochist
Conclusion
Bibliography 


INTRODUCTION 

"At the start, the lights were so low that you had to be standing next to a 
person to see them. This is where we got rid of our clothes. They had it 
stacked so that we'd start straight. I was lined up with a cute redhead 
named Jill who had fantastic pear-shaped tits with freckles on them. Her 
husband was Alex, an assistant professor of something at a local college. 
Alex was with Celia, the hostess, a rangy blonde with a tan all over her 
body. Lauri was paired off with Rex, Celia's husband. Sure, I was ready to 
play the game with the broads-but I couldn't wait to get my hands on the 
husbands. 

"Alex was sort of average, except that without his clothes he looked about 
eighteen. He was smallish, kind of soft, and incredibly pink. Even his cock 
was pink. And then there was Rex. Christ, he made me drool just to look at 
him. Rex was a health nut, a weight-lifter type. He looked just like one of 
those pictures of the guys who pose for male pinups-only without the 
G-string. But he wasn't muscle-bound and bulky, except in the crotch. He was 
sleek skinned and the muscles just seemed to ripple over him as he moved. 
With him in the same room, it was getting difficult for me to breathe. 
Before the lights were turned up somewhat, I practically ruined my eyes 
trying to see more of him. 

"As I said, it began casually and heterosexually. I fucked Jill in a chair 
while she sat on my lap. For an extra kick, it was one of those massage 
chairs that vibrate. Not that I needed any extra stimulation. By that time, 
the party was well lit and I could glance across the living room and see 
beautiful inches of Rex's cock tunneling in and out of Lauri. I was afraid I 
was going to lose my whole load right then and wipe out the evening, but 
Jill seemed to have things under control. I think they had it set up so I'd 
be hotter than hell when we got around to the gay sex. To ease us along in 
that direction, the lesbian action started first. 

"Lauri was as ready in her way as I was in mine. Celia took her down on the 
rug in the center of the living room and was joined there by Jill. They each 
worked on one of Lauri's tits for a while, then Celia broke off and went 
right down to the cunt with her tongue. Jill moved into a position over her 
head and lowered a very wet cunt into her face. It was quite a sight, all 
that cunt-lapping, my own Lauri both giving and receiving. As exciting as it 
was, though, I couldn't have cared less-except maybe to crawl over and pluck 
Jill's ass-hole which I could see winking above Lauri's tongue. I even 
forgot about that in the next couple of minutes. 

"While we were watching the girls, Rex had made a round of drinks and 
brought them over to where I was sitting on a chair. He sat on the arm, his 
hard thigh pressed against my shoulder. Alex came for his drink and sat on 
the rug at the foot of the chair, his back leaning into my leg. It was all 
planned, all very smoothly done. They had made the first physical male 
contact, and they were waiting to see if I would shrink away from it. And I 
was worried that they might take my sexual trembling as a sign of rejection. 

"We sipped as we watched the girls, who were winding their way into a 
cunt-licking fury. Then Alex turned around and looked at me, having to stare 
up between my legs to do so. With my aching cock hobbling before his eyes, 
he said something about the excitement, something about the thrill that 
could be had from various pleasures, and some further blah-blah-blah about 
the beauty of open-mindedness. I hardly heard him. I knew what he was 
leading up to. And I knew why he was on the floor. I wanted to reach out and 
grab his head and haul his mouth onto my cock, but it was like dealing with 
the only kid on the block who owned a baseball; it was his game, no matter 
how badly you wanted to play. 

"Finally, he got around to it, fingers at first, casually fondling my 
testicles, then moving up the hard shaft. When I didn't object, he set down 
his drink and eased between my knees. His lips went over the burning head of 
my cock, and I had to hang on to keep from coming in his mouth. From that 
moment on, I was oblivious to the cunt-licking tangle on the floor. I 
sighed, leaned back, and let Alex suck me deeply. As my cock was drawn hotly 
and deep into his mouth, Rex shifted on the arm of the chair so that his 
beautiful big hard-on was exposed and only inches from my hand. I tried to 
reach out and touch that sweet meat with enough hesitation so that I 
wouldn't seem greedy-but when I had it in my hand, there was no letting go. 

"I jerked and caressed him and bent the cock toward me. He got the message 
and stood up. By leaning to one side, I could suck him off as he posed 
beside the chair. I mean, it was a scene hard to believe. Three broads on 
the floor going at each other, and me a few feet away with a hot cock and a 
hot mouth working out simultaneously. It couldn't have been a wilder 
arrangement if I'd planned it myself. 

"There wasn't any doubt that they had taken us through the tulips. They were 
my kind of people. Before the evening was over, I had fucked two ass-holes, 
Celia's and Alex's. And Rex had taken my ass and come off inside of me. I 
mean, it was a night to remember. I had everything in the way of sex I ever 
wanted ... . " 

The preceding narrative is excerpted from one of the case histories 
presented in this study of sex swapping and analism. At the outset, the 
reader should be appraised of the odd complexities in the behavior we shall 
examine. 

It would be too simplistic merely to state that the relatively modern, 
middle-class phenomenon of social sex swapping would naturally include 
isolated instances of all manner of sex acts, anal intercourse not excepted. 
That, of course, is a true statement. More pertinent to our own 
investigation, however, are questions such as: Does sex swapping lead to 
acceptance of analism where no acceptance was present beforehand? Do group 
sexual pressures encourage analistic experimentation? Or, does sex swapping 
merely serve as a vehicle in which individuals of analistic persuasion find 
a convenient outlet for their sublimated sexual desires? 

Interestingly, the answer to each of the above questions can be a qualified 
yes. 

To go beyond the apparent contradiction, we must first take a look at the 
current extent and popularity of sex swapping. Population movement, to the 
suburbs and to the urban enclaves, contributed. With the growth of suburbia 
to its present vast transient or semi-transient population, sex swapping or 
wife swapping-as it has been called in the past-has reached a new peak in 
the U.S.A. and Canada. Millions of men and women who, outwardly at least, 
lead normal married lives, are in fact actively engaged in a practice 
officially abhorred by society in general and condemned as well by 
implication and in varying degrees by some of the confused sex laws in the 
various states. These couples, for whatever reason-be it boredom, curiosity, 
imaginative daring, mental and/or physical abnormality, or just plain 
escapism-are turning up in clandestine groups of sex swappers. 

Two years ago, calculated estimates from professional statisticians placed 
the number of adult Americans who have in the past or are currently engaged 
in sex swapping in groups at more than five million couples! Obviously, that 
figure will rise rather than decrease. These studies note as well that 
couples involved in sex swapping are in social and economic groups ranging 
from the highest to the lowest level of the society. Outwardly, these 
couples live routine and constructive lives. Inwardly, they are faced with 
the necessity of keeping an important part of their social lives-often, the 
most important part-secret from the general society in which they live and 
earn their livelihoods. This necessary secrecy can and does, of course, 
cloak more than just a mere acceptance of group sex. 

It can also cloak desires for sexual activity not commonly found in most 
marriages. 

Yet sex swappers can justify their activities. Although there are, as one 
might expect, a certain number of swappers who are nothing more than 
libertines, deviates, and even psychotics, most of the people involved in 
exchange of mates are intelligent, responsible people trying to find a new 
way of maintaining the ties of marriage while continuing to enjoy the 
pleasures of sex. This is their view, and they are entitled to it. However, 
the assertion that their way of life is conducive to mental health bears 
examination. Dr. Frank S. Caprio had this view of sex swapping: "Individuals 
who enter into such orgies attempt to ease their conscious or unconscious 
feelings of guilt by rationalization, stating that it is healthier to 
release one's sexual inhibitions rather than suppress them. Indulgence in 
pluralism exacts a price from its participants as it inevitably creates 
neurotic conflicts between the id and the superego, resulting in 
psychosomatic symptoms." 

In The Sexual Offender and His Offenses, Dr. Benjamin Karpman reports on one 
swapper: 

Here is a case of a man as shrewd and intelligent as you make them, who uses 
every bit of his intelligence in order to seduce people into his group, 
including psychology and hypnotism. He is married, and has two children, and 
his wife regards him as a devoted husband. Though in normal daily relations, 
he is a rather kind and considerate man, when it comes to his parties he is 
absolutely ruthless and heartless. He wouldn't hesitate to induce the 
participation of the daughter of a good friend of his if that suited his 
purposes. His parties usually run to about a half dozen people, in which all 
sorts of sexual activity, usually of the irregular type, are going in the 
presence of other people. He derives tremendous satisfaction in seeing one 
couple perform fellatio heterosexually, another couple engaging in the same 
thing homo-sexually. He is a pluralist who-likes to see himself in the 
sexual act while others are looking on. When finally arrested, he naively 
complained that he wasn't guilty of anything more than some unorthodox 
sexual behavior. 

On the other hand, the doctors Kronhausen take a less hostile attitude. They 
mention the sincerity of the sex swappers' beliefs, although those beliefs 
run counter to the ethics of the rest of society. They state: "Their way of 
life does not seem to cause trouble for them, or for those who are not 
participants." 

There is, then, little agreement among authorities themselves on the subject 
of sex swapping. There is even less agreement when referring to particular 
sexual activities, such as anal-ism within the broader scope of the swapping 
practice. In many sex-swapping situations, the individuals attempt to 
control or limit certain activity that they deem to be potentially harmful. 
But this is an extremely difficult task. If one accepts the statement of 
many swappers that they enter into group sex out of boredom, then it follows 
that eventually group sex of a controlled or limited nature will also become 
boring. The pressures toward more and more sensual variety will build. 
Common coital and oral sex will no longer fulfill the needs. And, as we 
shall see in our case histories, there is a continuous pressure for 
homosexual contacts. Except in the strictest of groups, analism is 
inevitable. Beyond that activity loom some more bizarre acts. It is wise to 
ask, where does the quest for sexual variety end? 

The answer to such a question can only be guessed at. It may be instructive, 
however, to examine some of the possibilities as to where the seeds of 
pursuing sexual variety begin. Though we have yet to run across a sex guide 
or marriage manual that recommends analism as a sexual variety between 
partners, we do know that for many, many years it was used in extreme cases, 
usually in hasty situations, as a unique way of preventing pregnancy. 
Particularly, there are many references to this sexual act being performed 
in incestuous situations where there was a fear of pregnancy, and in the 
latter stages of pregnancy where normal coitus is prohibited from a medical 
standpoint. From the standpoint of medical ethics, however, analism is not 
generally recommended either before or during pregnancy. 

Another potent source which may lend the idea of analism to couples who had 
not considered it a potential sexual variety is that of classical and 
popular erotica. Worldwide pornography, in its literary sense, is replete 
with instances of analism. For example, pornography is used in Japan as an 
inexpensive form of sex education. Japanese "pillow books," so-called for 
their aphrodisiac effect, include illustrations of anal intercourse. It 
would be foolhardy to assume that young people using such books as guides 
would not at least attempt all of the illustrated variations. Similar 
pictorial sex books have not been widespread in this country; but with the 
recent removal of obscenity bans in Scandinavia, many illustrated magazines 
and books are reaching these shores. Even more recently, illustrated 
educational material on sex has emerged from domestic sources for the 
sophisticated adult market. Hence we find that both foreign and domestic 
publications show anal intercourse to some extent. 

While it is true that a minority of Americans peruse so-called pornography 
of the pictorial type, a great many read popular, sexually oriented novels. 
Thus, national best sellers by famous American authors may just as easily be 
a source of inspiration to the prospective analistic experimenter as any 
other type of book. A pertinent example, perhaps, is Norman Mailer's best 
seller, An American Dream. The following excerpt should point up what we 
mean: 

"...there was Ruta, Fraulein Ruta from Berlin, lying on top of the covers 
with her pajama pants down, a copy of a magazine in one hand and her other 
hand fingering, all five fingers fingering like a team of maggots in her 
open heat. She was off in that bower of the libido where she was queen, and 
those five fingers were five separate lords and ladies at work on her. 

We did not say a word. Her face ... was on the edge of dividing into two 
women, that queen for certain of her fevers and a little girl trapped in a 
dirty act. I winked like the friendliest peasant neighbor-I recall how 
natural was this wink-and then I stripped my coat and started to take off my 
clothes ... . The maid set down the magazine and turned her free hand palm 
up toward me, her fingers long and thin with a hint of the fine curve in a 
double curved bow. I remember seeing that the curve of her fingers, her 
lips, and her long thin calves were a part of that sly bright fever she gave 
off, and in a new whiff of boldness as if to be bold was her metier, 
boldness had brought me to her, she lifted the other hand (those lords and 
ladies) and moved it across to me for a kiss to her fingers. Which I did, 
getting one full draft of a heated sex which was full of the flower, full of 
earth, and with suspicion of one sly mouse slipping through the garden, a 
bit of fish in its teeth. My bare foot came up from the carpet and I put my 
five toes where her hand had been, drawing up that instant out of her wet 
spicy wisdom all the arts and crafts of getting along in the world. She made 
the high nasal sound of a cat disturbed in its play-I had stolen some thing 
from her, and she was about to draw back, but there was a look in my face-I 
was ready to kill her easy as not, there was an agreeable balance in the 
thought that I was ready to kill anyone at this moment-and my look cracked 
the glitter in her eye. She shook her head and gave the prize to my five 
toes which moved in the wet with all the deliverance of snakes who have 
crossed a desert. 

. . . But then ... a thin high constipation smell ... came needling its way 
out of her. She was hungry, like a lean rat she was hungry, and it could 
have spoiled my pleasure except that there was something intoxicating in the 
sheer narrow pitch of the smell, so strong, so stubborn, so private, it was 
a smell which could be mellowed only by the gift of fur and gems, she was 
money this girl, she cost money, she would make money, something as corrupt 
as a banquet plate of caviar laid on hundred-dollar bills would be required 
to enrich that odor all the way up to the smell of foie gras in Deborah's 
world and Deborah's friends. I had a desire suddenly to skip the sea and 
mine the earth, a pure prong of desire to bugger, there was canny 
hard-packed evil in that butt, that I knew. But she resisted, she spoke for 
the first time, 'Not there! Verboten!'. 

I had, however, gotten an inch of the verboten. A ... detailed specification 
of a city rat, came out from her into me and deadened the head of my heat. I 
could go for a while now. And go I did. That other presence (which, I could 
remind you, leads to the creation) was lying open for me, and I barreled in 
on a stroke, expecting glory and the hot beat of jungle wings, but she was 
slack, her box spoke of cold gasses from the womb and a storehouse of 
disappointments. I quit her there and went back to where I had begun, the 
fierce pinched struggle to gain an inch and then a crucial quarter of an 
inch more, my hand was in her red dyed hair, pulling at a swatch with a 
twisting upward motion, and I could feel the pain in her scalp strain like a 
crowbar the length of her body and push up the trap, and I was in, that 
quarter-inch more was gained, the rest was easy. What a subtle smell came 
from her then, something back of the ambition, the narrow stubbornness, the 
monomaniacal determination to get along in the world, no, that was replaced 
by something sneaky, full of fear, but young, a child in soiled pants. 
'You're a Nazi,' I said to her out of I knew not what. 

'Jo,' she shook her head. 'No, no,' she went on. 'Ja, don't stop, ja.' 

This plainly demonstrates that the "idea" of analism can be planted from a 
source available to most Americans. If they are sufficiently curious, 
experimentation can follow. In a sex-swapping situation, where 
experimentation toward sexual variety is manifest, the presence of analism 
is not inexplicable. It merely deserves to be examined and, possibly, 
understood. 

 CHAPTER ONE 

The Anal Hedonist 

"Yes, of course I was embarrassed. After all the sex that I had participated 
in! Me, with a vaginal infection. Vaginitis, the doctor called it. All I 
know is that I had one sore, inflamed cunt. At first I had thought that some 
sonovabitch in our sex-swapping group had given me a dose of clap-gonorrhea 
or some other venereal disease. I milked my husband's prick right away to 
make sure it wasn't in the family. Phil was clean. I called the other wives 
and checked to see if they had picked up anything. Nothing there, either. 
That's when I became worried. You see, aside from being a great one for 
douching and using feminine hygiene sprays, there was another reason that it 
was weird that I, of all the girls in the group, would have problems with my 
cunt. To be blunt, I'm basically anally oriented. I like my fucking in the 
ass. 

"Not knowing what to expect, I purposely made an appointment with a doctor 
in a suburb some distance from where I lived. It was a rather strange 
experience. Believe it or not, for all of my twenty-five years, I had never 
had a doctor examine my sexual parts. A nurse had me change into a dressing 
gown that tied in the back. Then she helped me onto an examining table where 
my feet were put in stirrups, holding my knees up and spreading my legs wide 
apart. That was a great little table, I tell you. The position was perfect 
for a fast fucking. That was the last thing on my mind at the time, though. 
Yet I couldn't help but be curious about the doctor's reaction to my 
complete lack of pubic hair. When he lifted the examination gown and pushed 
it over my waist, the cunt that stared up at him was as hairless as a 
billiard ball. 

"All of the girls in the group shaved their cunts to a greater or lesser 
degree. Some, like me, used a depilatory and are really hairless. It makes 
me feel sexy, and it really seems to turn on most of the husbands. The 
doctor was no exception. He was acting very cool and professional, but he 
couldn't keep an eyebrow from going up when he viewed my crotch. It caused 
him to fumble a bit when he poked and probed at me with his rubber-gloved 
fingers. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that I wasn't there because 
of a burning cunt. I tried to fantasize that the doctor was playing with my 
sex with loving fascination. Naturally, it didn't work-especially when he 
inserted a cold steel instrument to scrape off a skin specimen of the 
infected area. After that came an equally cold glass slide for a smear 
examination. He left me hung up on the stirrups for some time and finally 
came back with the word: vaginitis. It sounded horrible, but he assured me 
that it wasn't anything rare. In fact, it was relatively common. He asked me 
about my hygienic habits, and I assured him on that point. Then he asked me 
about Phil, his genital cleanliness. Well, I couldn't very well tell him 
that Phil had the sweetest, cleanest tasting cock I'd ever sucked and that I 
usually gave it a very good tongue lathering before he did-anything else 
with it. I simply said that my husband was scrupulously clean. 

"That's when the doctor did the damndest thing. He told me that he was going 
to give me another examination, and that I wasn't to be upset by it. This 
time, instead of putting on rubber gloves, he put on a single rubber sheath 
over his index finger. He called it a finger stall, and it looks like a tiny 
prophylactic. I thought: so, he's going to diddle with me-maybe work on my 
clit to see if I get aroused. But no. The finger went between my legs, but 
not to my cunt. I twitched involuntarily when I felt his fingertip press 
against my ass-hole. 

"Had he guessed my passion? It was inconceivable-yet there he was pushing 
into my anus. God, it felt beautiful! I could feel my rear love-muscle 
tightly gripping the darling digit. He obviously wasn't trying to arouse me 
with any sexy finger movement; nevertheless I was getting deliciously hot. I 
would have loved to suck his finger inside my ass and squeeze it. 
Immediately, I was fantasizing again. As his finger moved steadily up my 
ass-hole to his second knuckle and lingered, I could only think of how 
marvelous the doctor's hard cock would be in its place. Well, can you blame 
me for having such thoughts? He had already told me I had a vaginal 
infection. Now he was fingering my horny ass-hole. Surely he was one of 
those doctors you always hear stories about but never meet. If he couldn't 
fuck me straight because of my infection, he was going to try to rip off a 
little through the back door. What else could be his motive? I mean, whoever 
heard of examining somebody's ass when they obviously had a vaginal problem? 

"It goes to-show how little I knew about it. Just as I was working myself up 
to giving his finger a playful tug, he withdrew it. He looked at me straight 
in the eye and asked: 'Mrs. R-, how often do you have anal intercourse?' 

"He knew. Out of some sense of reflexive propriety, I protested. It's one 
thing to enjoy one's unique sexual pleasure, and to have it known and 
appreciated by your husband and intimate friends; it's quite another to have 
it spoken of with such surety by a perfect stranger. I was indignant. 
Me-anal intercourse? Ridiculous! 

" 'Mrs. R-, it's not my intention to embarrass you. There's nothing 
inherently wrong or immoral about anal intercourse in my opinion, nor is it 
abnormal. The reason it is not a widely practiced sexual habit is because a 
great number of people find it uncomfortable. And, of course, others have 
taboos about the practice. Yet there are more women than you would 
most-likely imagine who practice and enjoy anal intercourse. I have no 
argument with them.' 

"I remained stubborn. I felt certain that he was patronizing me. All right, 
even if his sliding his finger up my ass did tell him something about my 
particular sexual desires, I didn't have to admit it out loud. I had covered 
myself at this point and was sitting stiffly on the edge of the table. He 
wrote out a prescription for antibiotics and a medicated douche, then he 
said: 'I'll be frank with you whether you want to confide in me or not. From 
the reactions of your sphincter muscles during the rectal examination, I'm 
forced to professionally conclude that you frequently practice anal 
intercourse. I suspected as much from the nature of your vaginal infection. 
I won't burden you with the technical terms, but the bacteria that caused 
the infection are a variety found in fecal matter. A word to the wise should 
be sufficient. If you and your husband ever do consider engaging in anal 
intercourse, be absolutely sure his penis is completely clean and 
bacteria-free before moving on to vaginal coitus:' I thanked him coolly and 
walked straight out of there without saying another word. On the ride home, 
though, all I could think was: Oh my God, if he only knew the half of it! 

"I remember perfectly the night I must have picked up the infection. As far 
as the medical part of the story goes, enough said about that except that I 
must have been lucky for a long, long time. What happened sexually that 
night was the rule rather than the exception. There were four of us. Mike 
and Ronda were the other couple, and if was at their house where the party 
took place. They're a sweet pair, handsome and beautiful, and just as 
uninhibited as we are when it comes to sex. Once a month, the whole gang of 
us-twelve couples in all-get together for a real blast of an orgy. But on 
the weekends in-between we usually pair off with a single couple. Mike and 
Ronda are our favorites. 

"The night began on a wild note. Ronda grinned at me and said with relief, 
"Thank God you're here! I can't handle Mike. It must be the phase of the 
moon or something, but he's been like a stud all day. He's fucked me royally 
twice this afternoon, and I've had to fight him off ever since.' 

"When I kissed Mike hello and hugged him as usual, I knew what she was 
talking about. He was already hard, and with Mike that makes quite an 
impression-eight solid inches worth. I let my hand drop and gave the bulge 
in his pants a hearty squeeze. 'Is that all for me?' 

" 'As much as you can take,' he laughed. 'Honda's been playing hard to get. 
But to hell with her now. All I've been able to think about is that sweet 
ass of yours.' 

"Which was exactly what I'd been thinking about. I didn't let go of 
him-neither of us had to say aloud that we didn't want to mess around with 
the preliminaries. I should explain that usually we all have a drink or two 
and get in the mood with some sexy talk-a sort of a casual warm-up to the 
heavy action that follows. But not all the time. That night was particularly 
ripe for a fast opening. 

"My Phil and Ronda weren't quite as steamed up. They stayed upstairs to mix 
a drink while Mike and I went down to the basement den they call the 
"playpen.' It had been fixed up with soft rugs, a couple of sofas, and some 
large pillow-like hassocks-a very comfortable room for balling. 

"Mike was all over me in seconds. He had my blouse and bra off and was 
nuzzling my nipples with his lips at the same time he was tugging down my 
slacks. Slowing him down was out of the question. I let myself fall over on 
a big pillow and allowed him to free me of the slacks, then I was naked 
before him, my legs spread. I flexed my thighs, beckoning to him with my 
smooth cunt, as he stripped out of his clothes. 

"God, was he hard! I practically drooled at the sight of that fabulous 
erection. My ass was tingling, too. I could tell that he could sense it, by 
the way he grinned at me. He knelt on the floor and reached underneath me 
and caressed the cheeks of my ass. As he came closer, I lifted my legs and 
rested them on his shoulders. He knew the routine well enough once we were 
in that beautifully accommodating position. Next, he leaned over and took my 
mouth with his. Our lips clashed, devouring each other's tongues, while his 
hands were squeezing and pulling on my titties-tripping the nipples into a 
swollen sensation of warmth. Then his great cock was pressed tightly into 
the moist groove of my cunt. The fat head thumped on my clit, causing my 
loins to vibrate and my juices to flow. 

"I kept playing the erotic tape-recorder of my mind: Let it go and get it 
wet, baby.' Get that big, beautiful tool nice and slippery! 

"You could say I have my own quirks when it comes to being fucked in the 
ass. I've had men lube up their cocks with everything from spit to 
Shinola-vaseline, vaginal jelly, cold cream, even olive oil. The best yet, 
though, is Mother Nature's own: my cunt juices. Or someone else's. Oh, I 
know all the arguments about how it's not supposed to last, rubs right off, 
and all that. I can only say that it works for me. The best part is that 
there's no waste of time, no aching delay to grease up. When I want a cock 
where it will do the most good, it's there, and it's ready! 

"With Mike, I arched my back and grabbed the root of his erection. Then I 
dipped it in the well, teasing his balls while he pushed all eight inches 
into me. Fantastic! The second best thing in the world! By the time he had 
stroked me a dozen times, I was squirming all over the pillow and pumping so 
much cunt juice it was trickling down the crevice of my ass. That did it! I 
couldn't wait another second. 

"I was gasping when I told him to put that huge cock right where it 
belonged. And he didn't need a second invitation. Quickly he pulled his 
slick rod out of my cunt and moved back slightly, rocking on his knees, 
jiggling my buttocks, and aligning his thick plunger with the puckered, 
greedy hole. I moaned when I felt the wet, heavy knob push up against my 
ass-hole. Then came the pressure. I felt the tight ring being spread open a 
fraction of an inch with every breath he took. I didn't move; I tensed my 
body with electric ecstasy and savored each delicious twinge of the 
splitting sphincter. 

"But once again, my compulsions got the better of me. As he was tantalizing 
me with the head of his cock, I shoved forward suddenly! The great knob 
popped beyond the barrier and a blast of dark air rushed out to sweep his 
balls. I can't adequately describe that moment. Glorious, I think, would be 
the one word to sum up the feeling that surged over me. And it happens 
nearly every time. Of course, the first penetration of any evening, just 
like I was enjoying with Mike at the moment, is the very, very best. I 
practically come apart at the seams. All of me is in motion. I yell, bite, 
thump, claw, scratch, kick and squirm. Most men are intuitive enough to 
realize that the only way to calm me down at that precise instant is to jam 
their cocks as fast and as far up my ass-hole as they possibly can. Mike is 
no stranger to the strategy. He did just that. I lay there quivering under 
him from head to toe and had my first gushing orgasm! 

"It's always hard to explain my orgasms under those circumstances. I mean, 
I'm not really sure where they originate. Sometimes I think it's way up my 
ass, deep in my bowels. Other times I think it's the pressure in my ass that 
causes my cunt to climax. I do know that the intensity is a great deal more 
powerful than the orgasms I experience in a straight fuck or when my clit is 
being worked on by either a hand or mouth. Maybe that's why I can't pinpoint 
the location. Maybe the explosion I feel in my guts is so powerful that the 
location gets lost in the storm. Sometimes I've even fainted momentarily, 
and that is a fantastic sensation-waking up after a few seconds with my 
entire body on fire and feeling as though I were floating on air. In any 
event, I won't bother to argue precisely-as many of the girls I know do-on 
whether I have vaginal orgasms or rectal orgasms. That's a female mystery 
that doesn't mean much to me. All I'm really concerned about is the extreme 
pleasure it gives me. 

"Mike was in me hugely. I could feel the crown of his cock plowing furrows 
in the tissue of my ass, so I kept humping upward to meet each new thrust. I 
could feel his heavy balls slapping into me--jolting my spine. My hands were 
busy, too. I pinched my nipples and clawed at my clit. I went through a 
series of orgasms that were less intense than the first but equally 
pleasurable. I knew that Mike was striving to come, too. That's when I began 
milking his cock with the pressure of my anus. I wouldn't call it the 
greatest trick in the world-in fact anyone can learn it-but without bragging 
I can say I've learned it better than most. It's the same kind of pressure 
one uses when taking a crap-a sort of controlled spasm. Control it well 
enough and you can grab a long cock, squeeze it, release, squeeze it again, 
all within a single withdrawal stroke. Maybe it can be done with a 
well-trained cunt, I wouldn't know. But I can tell you that there are very 
few men whose balls are bursting who can stand up to more than a minute of 
my anal massage. Mike couldn't. He moaned as I squeezed and, in a matter of 
moments, he was spurting huge gobs of hot come up my rectum. 

"When we broke apart, we saw that Ronda and Phil were watching us. They were 
standing naked just inside the doorway. Phil had his arm around her and was 
fondling one of her very full tits. She has a hefty 37C size bust, just a 
little more than I have in that department. At the same time Phil squeezed 
her tit, she had a stranglehold on his cock. From the expressions on their 
faces, it was obvious that our show had put them in the mood-but good! 

"Their own heated nakedness recharged my batteries, too. Mike was out of it 
for a few minutes, so I called to them to join me. I should say at this 
point that Ronda and I know each other's bodies as well as two females 
can-and, no, I'm not a lesbian. Neither is she. Even classifying myself as a 
bisexual would be going too far. Oh, for the sake of getting the point 
across to people who don't know me too well, I would say I'm AC-DC. Yet it's 
more involved than that. Basically, I'm a man's woman, for no cockless 
creature could ever please me sexually for very long. 

"On the other hand, I reject the idea that sexual pleasure should be 
limited. I happen to enjoy having my cunt licked and my clitoris sucked. If 
a man can do it and please me, why not a woman? Naturally, I reciprocate-and 
see nothing wrong with it at all. Frankly, it's quite a thrill to drive 
another female up the wall and bring her off. Do I find the taste, the 
texture, or the scent unpleasant? That's like asking if I'm repugnant to my 
own self. I like to think that I have an infinite capacity for eroticism. If 
I enjoy the tongue of another woman lapping at my sex, yet deny her the same 
attention, then I'm, in effect, denying myself. 

"There are limits, though. Sadomasochism, for instance, has no place in my 
sexual scheme of things. I'm the first to admit that there's an instant of 
pain that goes along with accepting anal intercourse, but I don't agree at 
all with the conclusions of some so-called sexual authorities that that 
makes me masochistic to some degree. What we are talking about is only a 
couple of moments of discomfort weighed against a long period of the 
sheerest ecstasy. I happen to know a couple of girls who feel an instant of 
vaginal pain when they are fucked straightaway, when the man's cock gets 
into them fully at the beginning, and nobody calls them masochistic. Among 
the girls in our group who take it in the ass--just to liven up a party or 
because there's no other hole available-there are a couple for whom it's a 
very uncomfortable experience during most of the time it's happening, but I 
don't call them masochists either. As for myself, I don't allow any of the 
other stuff one reads about: slapping, spanking, whipping, being tied up, 
and all that sort of thing. I know people who dig it, but it's not my bag. 
Getting back to lesbianism, you can see that I don't qualify. I do it 
because it's kicks, not something I couldn't live without. 

"When Ronda and Phil joined me on the floor of the playpen, I knew how I was 
going to handle them both. I had a pretty good idea what they'd been doing 
before they came downstairs. Phil's cock was slightly shiny and damp, and 
Ronda had a tiny droplet of spittle at the corner of her mouth. Her cunt, on 
the other hand, was the epitome of dry heat. The thick lips, surrounded by 
the tiny fringe of blonde pussy hair, were swollen and blushing. There 
wasn't any visible sign of juice. Phil had obviously let her suck him off 
without reciprocating in any manner. Good! She was ripe for a little head. 
And it would also give me a chance to get my dear spouse's cock up that back 
alley he knew so well. 

"Phil sat down beside me and teased my nipples. When I turned my back on 
him, he knew it wasn't a rejection. He spread his legs and, pulling me by 
the tits, snuggled my ass back into him. In this way he could lean back on 
the floor with his head on a pillow and pull me, outstretched and belly up, 
against his taut body. Ronda had lowered herself in front of us. That's when 
I raised myself so that I was above Phil's crotch and his beautiful hard-on 
jutted up between my legs. Ronda reached forward and stroked it. The 
erection was so tight in my own crotch that, when Ronda ran her fingers up 
and down the shaft, her knuckles pushed into the outer flesh of my cunt. She 
effectively caressed both of us at the same time. Slowly, while she was 
jerking with her hand, I spread my thighs further and further until my legs 
slipped over Phil's and were on the outside of his. I was in a fantastic 
split-open and ready for anything. 

"All I had to do was arch my back off my husband's chest, raise my pelvis 
slightly, and his cock would have slid into my cunt at a wild, up-thrust 
angle. I could have made the move, but I waited for Ronda. She was sharp 
enough to know what I really wanted. Holding Phil's meat with one hand, she 
wiggled a finger underneath us where my buttocks pressed into his groin. 
Teasingly, she snaked it up to my ass-hole. She tweaked the button and 
pushed the fingertip in. Oh, yeah! My ass came up off Phil's belly. Ronda 
took Phil's cock and waved it like a fat dagger. She aimed it at my tight 
hole where her pinkie was doing a devilish dance and, when I came back down 
from my initial jolt, she snapped out her finger. In a single, glorious 
plunge, Phil's cockhead was halfway buried in my anus! 

"I pushed down, grunting and shoving, while Ronda kept everything aligned 
with her talented hands. The cockhead burst into my rectum, and I clamped 
onto it, rutting more and more of the stem up my ass. 

"I was in a frenzy atop Phil. His hands were around me, his fingers 
literally gnawing at my tits, his mouth nuzzling me hotly at the nape of my 
neck. That's when Ronda bent low, brought her face down to my cunt, and 
flicked at my clit with her tongue. As crazy as it sounds, I had to reach 
down and stop her. I couldn't explode in orgasm that quickly, I just 
couldn't. I lifted her mouth off my clit and found her tits. I pulled on the 
firm flesh and squeezed her already rigid nipples. I urged her upward and 
she crawled between our legs, over our outstretched bodies. Phil's cock was 
a good four inches into my ass-hole by this time, and I was humping for more 
as Ronda straddled us. But my hands didn't let loose of her abundant 
breasts. I opened my eyes, and her beautiful cherry red cunt, now gaping, 
was only inches from my hungry mouth. 

"Here I'd like to say something about the beauty of that moment-and that 
particular position. You see, it's not just for me, it's for Phil too. When 
he's taking me in the ass that' way, with my back to his chest, his head is 
just below and behind mine. When another girl crawls over us and sits on my 
face, he gets a fantastic close-up view of my lips and tongue working over a 
juicy cunt. It drives him up a wall! He loves to watch it from there. 
Sometimes-and don't ask me how-we've even managed to get in weird alignments 
where he gets a taste also. But most of the time he just watches wildly, 
inspiring him to fuck my ass like there was no tomorrow. That's what 
happened when my tongue found Ronda's sweet cunt. Phil went practically out 
of control in my rectum-and you should have seen me! 

"The second I sucked in a mouthful of pussy flesh, I twitched so hard that I 
almost lost contact with everything above and below. Thank God my floor 
partners had more composure. Phil really reamed me with a deep stroke, and 
Ronda grabbed my head and brought it up so that I was clamped on her 
clitoris. Wow! But in a moment, I planned to settle down to a pumping, 
licking, sucking rhythm. And that, friend, as they say in the television 
soap operas, is where the plot thickened. 

"Mike, watching from the sidelines, had just been waiting for the right 
moment to join us. So when Ronda lovingly pressed her cunt onto my mouth, he 
saw his opportunity. He straddled Phil's body and mine, then I felt his 
balls on my belly, and soon they were higher between my tits. I was so 
caught up in my own heat that, for a minute, I didn't realize what he was 
trying to do. Then I knew what his perspective of the tangled pile of flesh 
must be. He inched up close to Ronda who was bent and crouched over my 
mouth, her own ass-hole in the open and exposed just inches from the love 
bud that my tongue was lavishing. 

"I couldn't see, but I felt the nudge when Mike jammed his cock against 
Ronda's anus! I could feel him clench her hips and shove. I could hear, and 
my lips could actually feel, the lusty plunge that took him inside of her. 
She jolted upright! My mouth lost contact with her clitoris, and I could see 
for scant moments his hairy balls and, above them, that great thick rod 
pushing into her rear. The sight made my own ass-hole quake. 

"I should mention, however, that Ronda isn't as anal as I am. Oh, she took 
it all right, and I'm sure she got quite a charge out of it. At least from 
her squealing and quivering, one would have thought so. But anal fucking 
isn't anything she enjoys for prolonged periods of time. A few strokes, a 
quick thrill, and for her that's it. To each his own, I say. But in a 
secretly perverse way, I was glad she didn't think it was all that great. I 
knew she would start farting and groaning as soon as Mike had forced his way 
in about three inches and, sure enough, she did. Then came my golden 
opportunity-greedy Gussie that I am. Amid all the loud, wet, smacking 
sounds, I managed to make myself heard. Just as Mike was being expelled from 
Ronda's ass, I yelled for him to take me in the cunt! 

"Yes, I know, that's the stuff that sexy jokes are made of. But no female 
alive should knock it until she's tried it. Two gorgeous, strong, hard 
cocks, front and back, at the same time! 

"Mike slid down and wedged himself into me. Believe me, it wasn't easy with 
Phil's cock already packed in tight and nearly to the hilt. But I'll give 
Mike credit, he didn't let a crowded ballroom stop him for long. Up and up 
it went! I no longer had any control over my anal or vaginal muscles. I was 
totally at the mercy of those two magnificent pricks! My crotch was 
distended in ecstasy! I could swear that Phil and Mike were touching each 
other inside me! I couldn't hold back-I came, and during that ecstasy, the 
others followed. It was a combination of the Fourth of July and the 
Johnstown Flood. 

"But, you see, that's where it all went wrong. I'm referring now to my 
little medical problem, the vaginal infection. I mean, what female could 
insist upon absolute hygiene at a time like that? It goes without saying 
that Mike's cock wasn't enzyme clean. It had been up my ass, and up Ronda's 
too, before he got around to my cunt. I've gone over the whole night in my 
mind, and it was only during that particular wild, four-way set that I could 
have caught vaginitis. We did a lot of other marvelous things that evening, 
but periodically we washed off. No, it had to be that moment. It's ironic 
that that moment was also the supreme incident of joy for me during that 
entire session. 

"Has it affected how I feel about anal intercourse? Am I afraid of future 
consequences? The answer to both questions is an emphatic no. It's a risk 
I'm simply going to have to accept. Call it, if you will, a kind of risk I 
accept concerning pregnancy. I'm on the pill now and that lessens the odds. 
But when I was younger, the men and boys I fucked used prophylactics, and I 
knew then they weren't entirely foolproof. So I accepted that risk, just 
like I'll accept this one now that I'm aware of it. There's no greater 
pleasure in the world to me than a cock up my ass-and I'll be damned if I'll 
give it up for any reason!" 

The narrator of the above case history, Jean 

R-, is an attractive twenty-seven-year-old brunette who could adequately be 
termed an anal hedonist. It is amply apparent from her words that for her a 
successful sexual encounter can only occur with at least one incident of 
anal intercourse. Also apparent is the fact that she has given the matter of 
her anal impulses considerable thought. She becomes a loquacious advocate 
for her own brand of sexualism. In this regard, Jean is somewhat unique. 
Most anal erotics (as we shall see in following chapters) are defensive in 
varying degrees about their anal activities. Jean, on the other hand, would 
have the reader believe that she possesses the true answer to female sexual 
fulfillment. It is a false assumption, of course. She is one of a distinct, 
albeit growing, minority. The fact that she presents a persuasive case for 
anal intercourse stems mainly from her own narcissism and sexual ego. 

Many individuals are strong advocates of particular sexual activity. There 
are a number of reasons for this. An individual, for instance, may find 
satisfaction in only one coital position-one, perhaps, that insures physical 
dominance over the sex partner. Other individuals find a variety of sex acts 
so distasteful that they attribute undue enthusiasm to the one act they can 
accept. Partialism and fetishism also create such advocates. As for Jean, we 
mentioned her sexual ego. She is obviously sincere when she refers to her 
own physical pleasure during anal intercourse, but it is also probable that 
she is indulging in a game of one-upmanship. 

Our subject is quite aware that a majority of women find anal intercourse 
taboo. There is, in the first place, the society taboo in which the anus is 
merely a source of dirt and filth; while the fact that the anus is also an 
erogenous zone is entirely ignored. The second taboo is that anal 
intercourse is always and unequivocally painful. Jean, as we have noted, 
went to some lengths to dispel any notion that she was masochistically 
inclined and attempted to thoroughly minimize the element of pain. It was 
also obvious that she completely ignored mention of the first taboo (dirt, 
filth, etc.), even though she knew that it was the bacteriological source of 
her vaginal infection. What we have, then, is a woman who consciously 
dispels or ignores the two dominant taboos concerning anal intercourse. At 
once this sets her aside from her sisters. In a profoundly personal way, she 
becomes something better than they, a more complete sexual creature. The 
real physical pleasure that she derives from anal intercourse is heightened 
by the sublime pleasure derived from the knowledge of her uniqueness. 

It can be stated that the subject's sexual ego and her anal activity feed 
upon one another. But what is the Source of such a syndrome? The answer to 
that question lies in part in her willingness, her enthusiasm, for 
participating in organized sex swapping. We are all, to a degree, 
competitive animals, and this also holds true in the area of sex. In most 
individuals, there is pride in sexual performance as well as pride in the 
ability to stimulate and satisfy a sex partner. Normally, a married couple 
will reach a plateau of mutual sexual satisfaction, then when the magic 
dims, they will experiment and incorporate additional sex acts or procedures 
to fulfill their expectations. Cunnilingus, fellatio, and anal intercourse 
are but three devices that can serve this purpose. Yet within a marriage in 
which neither partner seeks extramarital activity, the question of mutual 
fulfillment and satisfaction is not of a competitive nature. 

The single person who dates more than one member of the opposite sex is in a 
better position to judge his own and his partner's sexual performances. The 
sexually enlightened single female wants to be known as an exciting 
bed-mate. The single man almost universally strives to perform to the peak 
of his virility. Single men and women realize that they are in a position of 
competition, that they are being compared, perhaps subconsciously, with 
previous sex partners. This awareness of competition is nowhere more 
striking than in sex-swapping circles. The idea is intensely implanted in 
the vast majority of participants that they must "outdo" the other fellow or 
girl or suffer disfavor or even ridicule. And, in fact, this does happen to 
a great extent whether two couples are exchanging mates or a larger group of 
couples are engaged in a full-scale orgy. 

It is not surprising to find individuals achieving sexual abandonment. It 
is. also quite common to find others who, having been imbued with the spirit 
of competition, will "try anything once." Yet, the most recent and most 
reliable data on the sex-swapping phenomenon indicates that anal 
intercourse, especially the acceptance of it by females, is far down the 
list of sexual preferences. (It has a far greater incidence among sex 
groups, however, than it does among the married population at large.) For 
the sake of illustration, we place a woman like Jean into this picture. 

We previously stated that Jean was attractive-but she is not extraordinarily 
beautiful. like many a suburban wife of her age, she is stylish, 
well-groomed, and keeps her well-proportioned body in good trim. Without her 
clothes on, she would admittedly tempt most normal men. By the same token, 
though, without her clothes on she is no more nor less attractive in a 
startling way than the other wives of her sex-swapping group. Also like the 
others, she is physically adept, possibly talented, at a variety of sexual 
acts both heterosexual and homosexual. Only one thing separates Jean from 
the rest of the crowd: her loudly acclaimed enthusiasm for anal intercourse. 

This is not to say that Jean first experienced anal intercourse in a sex 
swapping situation and then proceeded to champion it. Such is not the case; 
she discovered anal intercourse at a relatively early age. Shortly, in her 
own words, our subject will discuss this. The point that we make here is 
that, in sex-swapping, Jean found a situation perfect for the exploitation 
of her unusual sexual predilection. Given the taboos that we have discussed, 
a knowledgeable individual like Jean was quick to realize that she had a 
special, uncommon, sexual quest to offer the group. 

Forearmed with this knowledge and feeling that she was unique in her anal 
desires, Jean broadcast and propagandized her quest. She knew from 
experience that most of the women in the group would be abhorrent, stymied, 
reluctant, or hesitant at the introduction of analism. She could only gauge 
those who would and those who wouldn't. Of those who would, she could merely 
gauge relative acceptance versus pleasure. The degree of their pleasure was 
low; this she knew from observation. Therefore, her own star shone in the 
particular sexual heaven which she habituated. 

Another essential point in Jean's personal philosophy concerning anal 
intercourse is dependent upon the male consideration of the act. The taboos 
discussed earlier seem to be far less prevalent among males. A pertinent 
study shows that analingus (oral excitation of the sex partner's anus) is a 
frequent corollary of cunnilingus as well as being a foreplay gesture 
preceding anal intercourse. A desire for anal intercourse also manifests a 
belief in what we would call the "virgin syndrome." Here we refer to the 
male misconception of the alleged tightness versus looseness of the vagina: 
tight is virginity and innocence, loose is promiscuity and guilt. An 
inordinate number of men fallaciously bank their ideals against this 
illogical set of precepts. 

Anatomically speaking, there is no correlation, of course, between genitalia 
and virility-male or female. The feminine provider of a capacious vagina may 
dreamily lust over an oversized penis, but rarely do the twain meet. And the 
female does not usually carry her dreams to distraction. On the contrary, 
the male ideal is to find a woman who is "tight." It goes without saying 
that the word is relative. Perhaps, as Freud suggested, there is a capacity 
for rape in everyone. When we think of rape, we do not think of the village 
whore. We think of her as gaping, loose, slack, a grossly used cavity into 
which we can vent our current frustrations. A "nice girl" or, if we're 
married, "our wife," rarely fits our fantasies nor does the slippery whore. 
What, then, for the virginal tightness that most men secretly dream about 
and desire? The anus is the answer. 

Jean had considerable insight into these observations. She chose to exploit 
them to her own ends. It would be well at this point to examine the 
rudimentary inception of Jean's analism. Her narration continues: 

"What we're really talking about happened in my junior year of high school. 
Before that, I'd been laid about four times and I thought it was the 
greatest thing in the world. But I didn't know anything about birth control. 
I had this stupid idea that the guy was supposed to take care of everything. 
I would let the guys, whom I thought I loved, fuck me. Okay, so that happens 
to a lot of girls in high school. I mean, I wasn't promiscuous; I wasn't the 
town whore or anything like that. But I did like fucking. "There was a 
feeling, in those days, that I couldn't equate with anything except dying 
and going to heaven. At the same time, though, I thought I knew all about 
letting a boy come inside of a girl, without him wearing prophylactics, or 
her wearing a diaphragm-which only a couple of very sophisticated girls in 
our group did. I had no real consciousness of the disaster that could evolve 
until one of my best friends got pregnant. They sent her away-bang!-until 
she ended up in a weird religious school that was like a prison in another 
part of the state. I shouldn't have to tell you that we all took a pretty 
close look at what we were doing ourselves. 

"Motherhood? The funny thing was, I had no interest after that in the usual 
female joy in having a baby. I was only concerned with how to avoid the same 
predicament that my friend got sapped with-and I soon made up my mind just 
how that was going to happen. 

"The night it first happened, I was out with a fellow named Tom. You know, I 
can't even think of his last name. Tom was a basketball player, a tall, big, 
good-looking kid who was very smooth. I'll say he was smooth! 

"After the dance following the ball game, we drove a few miles out of town 
to a little lake where there was a hotel and a dance floor. I'll admit two 
things: I was a little bit terrified of Tom, but I was having the time of my 
life. To be perfectly candid, I was prepared to fuck him. After all the 
vodka drinks, the dancing, and laughing, I really did find myself in a room 
stretched out on a bed. Evidently, I had passed out, and he had taken me 
upstairs and pulled off my clothes. I awoke with a strange sensation and 
then discovered that he was sucking one of my tits. It was a marvelous 
feeling to awaken that way; my first thought was how warm and sexy I felt. I 
reached down, took hold of Tom's cock and began to fondle it. I remember it 
was hard and throbbing like it had a little heartbeat. It made me feel so 
warm and sexy that my cunt was already wet and he hadn't even touched me 
there. While I was enjoying the size and heat of his cock, he redoubled his 
efforts to suck as much as he could of my tit into his mouth. I could feel 
my nipple deep in his throat and I moaned and squirmed on the bed. Somewhere 
about that time was when panic struck me. 

"I recall that Tom was fingering me. He began gently with one slow finger, 
then increased the tempo and doubled the number of fingers, and finally 
ended up plunging three fingers in and out. My cunt was literally on fire 
and I was almost to the point of begging him to fuck me. But he was doing 
some anticipating, too. He eased up on me and spread my legs. His hard cock 
was pushed against the inside of my thigh and, as he arched his back, I 
could feel the hard meat slide closer and closer toward my cunt. Just as he 
reached my pussy hair-yes, I had a full crop then-I suddenly remembered all 
the things that I had been saying to my self in relation to the girl who got 
pregnant. I realized, too, that he had no rubber on.- 

"I grabbed Tom and asked him if he had a rubber. He didn't, but he promised 
he'd be careful and pull out before he came off. I knew better than to 
believe a promise like that. Not that I didn't believe he was sincere, but I 
just happened to know a bit about boys by this time. Once he started 
reaching a big climax, it would take a team of horses to drag him out of me. 
So I shook my head and kept saying no, fighting with him, protesting my 
fear. I think I even offered to suck him off. In any event, he wasn't having 
any of that. He was determined to get fucked, and was getting very uptight 
about it. 

"Oh sure, I could have screamed and yelled rape and woke up the whole hotel, 
but that wasn't really the issue. I wasn't trying to play the part of the 
precious virgin. I wanted sex, I wanted-hell, I don't think I knew what I 
wanted but rather knew what I had to avoid. By that time, we were wrestling 
on the bed with him fully on top of me and pinning me down. His cock was 
twitching between my legs, pressed tightly into my crotch. I was doing my 
damndest to keep my thighs together. Then, as I recall, his cock slipped 
underneath and was pushing at the crevice of my ass. I mean, it wasn't 
intentional; he didn't try to poke me there on purpose. Yet, with his cock 
underneath there and wedged up against my cheeks, the idea must have hit us 
at the same time. We sort of stopped, me with my protests, him with his 
demands. We looked at each other, and he asked me if he could-meaning could 
he put it up my ass. 

"I don't remember exactly how I answered, but it was something to the effect 
that it was all right if it didn't hurt. My language was a little more 
delicate in those days. Anyway, he promised that he wouldn't hurt me, that 
he'd stop the minute I told him to. I guess I thought it was a better 
bargain than trying to get him to pull out of my cunt before he came, so I 
said okay. I gave him the go-ahead to fuck me in the ass. 

"God, how dumb I was then! I had no idea about things like lubrication. I 
guess I thought that my ass, when it got hot, would juice up just like a 
cunt. And my friend was no smarter than I. I rolled over on my stomach and 
lifted my ass, offering it up, so to speak, making the grand sacrifice for 
the sake of birth control. In retrospect, I realize that Tom's cock wasn't 
very large; his physical height was in no way related to the dimensions that 
pronged out from his crotch. But, oh, did he ever feel like a gargantuan 
monster as he shoved his prick up against my anus! I think I would have 
leaped off the bed and run out of the room at that point had I not been so 
terrified. Instead, I just crouched there, frozen. I clenched my eyes shut 
and gritted my teeth while he rammed and rammed at my tiny, virginal 
ass-opening. The flesh felt like it was being shredded. Thoughts of being 
ruptured forever, being split beyond repair, flashed through my mind as he 
wedged that torturous cock in a fraction of an inch at a time. Then he 
suddenly plunged through! 

"I gasped and yelled and nearly collapsed. Then the strangest sensation 
overcame me. All that initial pain had been instantly replaced by a great 
feeling of warmth-but more than that, so much more. I had never dreamed that 
the flesh inside my ass would be so sensitive. I felt every fractional 
movement and every twitch of his cock. It was like being explored to the 
depth with a big, hot, fleshy tool. And every move that I made increased the 
tremendous gratification that I was receiving. I couldn't help playing with 
my clit-that, too, was a bonus. 

"For the first time with sex, everything was right. Until then I had always 
thought I had orgasms, but they were like hiccups compared to the one I had 
when Tom finally came up my ass. I knew then, at that age, what I had missed 
up to that point and that all my girl friends had missed. As for Tom, he 
loved every second of it. Naturally, like most guys that young, he had to 
brag about the literal 'piece of ass' that he had ripped off yours truly. 

"I found that I was suddenly very popular with the senior class. In a way, 
it turned me on to take guys away from their steady girl friends, guys who 
would do anything for me just to get something different. But let me set the 
record straight: I didn't treat Phil like that; I didn't wave my butt in 
front of him to offer him a change of pace. He didn't find out about the 
pleasures of my ass until the second day of our honeymoon. Then he got 
hooked pretty fast, too." 

Among anal erotics, the hedonist, the truly sensuous lover of anal 
intercourse, is the exception rather than the rule. Nonetheless, she is a 
reality. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

The Anal Sadist 

"Have you ever felt as though the world revolved around your cock-or if it 
didn't, that it should? I can't help it, that's the way I feel. I know that 
my idea of sex is different from most people's. Sometimes I think there's an 
animal inside me gnawing and clawing to get out. I keep asking: do I really 
want to hurt Ann, my wife, or any of the other females I've Had since we got 
into sex trading? Sitting here like I am now, talking it out, I'd like to be 
able to say no, no, I never intend to hurt anyone. Yet it happens time after 
time. I see a woman's ass and I have to have it. And I know, as well as I 
know my own name, that I'm going to hurt her. I've yet to run into the 
ass-hole that could take my cock without a great deal of pain. 

"What does that make me? Some sort of a monster? I don't think so. Believe 
me, I'm trying to be honest about this. After living with it for so long, I 
have finally come to the conclusion that most females want to be hurt, need 
to be hurt. Sure, some of them are more open about it than others. Some of 
them will lay it on the line that the best sex of all hurts and the place it 
hurts most is up their ass. Most of them won't admit it, but I believe this 
is what they truly want. 

"Let me prove my point. How many women rave and go wild over, or secretly 
wish and dream about, the joys of a huge cock? Damn right, all of them! The 
evidence is everywhere-the stories you read, the sex movies they're showing 
nowadays, the sex confessions gals publish. They think about cocks of 
inhuman proportions. Think about all the phalli that females have worshipped 
all through history. Hell, some of them were six feet long. 

"It's as plain as day that women want the biggest cock that's possible. On 
the other hand, very few guys can come up to that expectation. This I'm sure 
of because I've made plenty of comparisons. Not only that, but I read 
somewhere that the average adult male only had a cock five and a half inches 
long in erection. Five and a half inches! Christ, no wonder there are so 
many neurotic females running around. And you have to figure that five and a 
half inches is an average; there must be millions of poor bastards in this 
country who can't even show three or four inches. I've heard that a lot of 
faggots are extremely undersized in the cock department, and I figure that 
explains a lot. 

"Okay, now then, you take me: Just a fraction over ten inches hard, almost 
two and a half inches in diameter. Now that, dammit, is a cock! I'm not 
bragging, it's a fact; you can measure it if you want to. There may be 
bigger ones, but no female I've ever known has seen one. Neither have I, 
even in stag movies I've seen. So here I am, the one male in millions who 
actually possesses the kind of equipment that women dream about. And what 
happens? They scream. That's right. The goddamn bitches. The same ones that 
wet their sheets at night envisioning a cock like mine start squealing and 
shaking and making every excuse in the book the minute they lay eyes on my 
cock. 

"This used to bother me. It bothered me a lot until I finally realized that 
what they say and what they want are two different things. The truth is, 
they want to be hurt. They want to have a man, a real man, dominate them. 
Sure I've heard all this women's lib crap. You know the real score? They 
want someone like me more than they realize. I don't blame them for being 
frustrated with the run-of-the-mill five and a half inches. I can understand 
why they have so little use for the average man. But, just like all the 
others, they'd scream the minute they saw me with a hard-on. 

"Just let me get my hands on them once, though, and let me start driving 
that ten inches into their asses, then you'd hear a different story. They'd 
change, alright. Most of them do. That's why I get so fantastically mad when 
I'm compared to a monster for being cruel and brutal. I'm only that way 
because I know it's what the woman really wants, no matter how loud she 
screams. After all, I don't beat up on them. I don't whip them. I'm not one 
of those. 

"Why do I concentrate on the anus? You wouldn't ask a stupid question like 
that if you had .any real understanding of females. I just got through 
explaining that when a woman dreams about a huge cock, like mine, she 
secretly desires to be hurt by it, to be completely dominated by it. So I 
ask you, what better place than right up the ass-hole to make her dreams 
come true? Naturally I can hurt a cunt with my cock. I do, too, but just as 
a warm up. You see, when most of these bitches get hot enough, they can take 
ten inches and start whistling Dixie. Or, as another song goes, 'It only 
hurts for a little while.' Then you're right back where you started-they're 
using you. 

"You can't let that happen, can't listen to them at that point, no matter 
how wild they say you are, no matter how great they think your cock is. 
They're just postponing their own ultimate fulfillment. I'm not saying that 
they're doing it consciously, but they're doing it nonetheless. But friend, 
let me go on record as saying that that doesn't happen when you roll them 
over on their bellies. Which even goes for the ones who know they want their 
ass fucked and come right out and ask for it. 

"This brings me to the sex trading that's become part of my life. Mind you, 
I'm not a member of any organized group or any bunch of neighbors who go 
around swapping wives. In the first place, that isn't my style. In the 
second place, I doubt if very many husbands would want me around once they 
saw the size of my cock in comparison to their own. Talk about jealousy, 
they'd never let me next to their wives even if the wives were willing to 
take a chance. I had a brief experience like that just once, and it told me 
all I wanted to know about those kind of groups. 

"This was six, almost seven years ago-before I met my own wife. I'll admit 
to really not understanding women back in those days-especially the 
rejections I was getting from them. I would take out a good-looking bitch, a 
sure fuck, and time after time I'd run into the same scene. The girl would 
see my cock and start screaming. All of a sudden it was their period or an 
aunt was due in from Portland in an hour or they'd had a hysterectomy the 
day before yesterday. And me, well, I was mister nice-guy. I either let them 
off the hook or, if I was too horny, I'd fall all over them to get them to 
try it. I'd eat cunt until my tongue was raw to get them so hot that they 
couldn't help themselves. What the hell kind of satisfaction is there in sex 
like that? But I don't blame them. I was too dumb to realize what they 
really wanted-that pain was part of the female fantasy. 

"Anyway, as I started to say, it was about that time I ran into Ruth. Ruth 
was about ten or twelve years older than I, but she looked young, if you 
know what I mean. She was divorced and she had the reputation of being a 
swinger. We worked for the same real estate company; I was just getting 
started in the business and she'd been a successful agent for a long time. 
Under the guise of being the old pro, she liked to get hold of the younger 
guys in the office. I had some initial doubt about going out with her-I had 
a big thing for young girls-but since my sex life wasn't going too smoothly 
with the young stuff, I decided that Ruth was at least a change. After all, 
you hear all those stories about horny divorcees. 

"One thing I'll say for Ruth, she didn't beat around the bush. We were at 
her place to supposedly have a couple of drinks and talk business,' but we 
were only halfway through the first drink when we were all over each other 
on the couch, going at it with our mouths and tongues, starting to feel each 
other up. Then she gasped aloud. She pulled her mouth away from me and 
stared wide-eyed. You see, she had just put her hand on my crotch. I 
thought: oh shit, here we go again, now the excuses start. 

"But for once, thank God, I was wrong. When she was over her initial 
surprise, she flashed me the biggest, lewdest grin I'd ever seen. Her hands 
were at my zipper, and when she pulled my cock out inch by inch, she was 
purring like a big pussy cat. She was murmuring how beautiful it was, how 
she wanted all of it, everywhere. She went down on me at once, licking and 
kissing the entire fat length. She started with her tongue on my balls and 
went all the way up to nibble at the head, taking tiny love bites along the 
sides. She was able to stroke me with both hands while she sucked on the 
knob. Naturally, she couldn't get very much in her mouth, but she did a 
helluva job on the part she managed to swallow. 

"It was a particular thrill to me to have a woman finally react like that. I 
think what I remember most about those first minutes with Ruth was the way 
she would open her eyes and look up into mine. Her eyes were practically 
dancing with excitement. There was no fear in them, no trepidation. Of 
course, I'll have to admit now that Ruth was quite a bit different than most 
of the females in my life. I shortly found out how different. 

"She broke off the cocksucking before I came. We rushed into the bedroom, 
throwing our clothes off on the way. It wasn't until I was on the bed that I 
noticed what a damn beautiful body she had. She was a big girl, five nine at 
least and not an ounce of fat. Her tits were enormous, perfect cones that 
sagged only slightly under their own weight. I couldn't cover them with my 
hands as she crawled onto the bed above me. I made an attempt to bring the 
dark, excited nipples down to my mouth, but she told me bluntly that she 
didn't need or want any of that. The cock was the thing. 

"She knelt straight up, straddling my thighs, running one hand lightly and 
teasingly up and down the tight skin of my hard-on, while with her other 
hand, she fingered her cunt. Almost immediately, I could hear the smacking 
of her juices as she worked her fingers furiously. Next, she arched her back 
so I could get a good look at what she was doing. I think my cock was harder 
then than it had ever been before. Maybe it was from watching her rub her 
clit and seeing the lips of her cunt open wider and wider, or maybe it was 
the realization that I was finally going to get fucked by a woman who really 
wanted it and who was going wild with anticipation. 

"She raised herself and moved forward, then gripped my cock tightly and held 
it straight up. With a thumb and forefinger, she stretched open the lips of 
her cunt and I had a fantastic view as I watched her slowly lower herself 
onto my thick meat. I could feel the fingers where she held her flesh, then 
I could feel the hot flesh of her cunt itself. My entire cock-head 
disappeared into a furry hole, forcing her to grunt, wiggle and shove 
downward. 

"Christ, was she tight! Tight and beautiful. She moaned, restraining herself 
from plunging straight down too soon. I was amazed at her control since she 
was so hot that her juices were dribbling out of her cunt and running down 
my cock. More amazing, though, was to watch her envelop me by the inch. It 
was as if I were through her womb and up into her belly. I was vaguely aware 
that she was hurting, that there was a tremendous strain on her cunt, 
because her forehead had broken out in beads of perspiration and her lips 
were twisted. But not for a single second did she quit fucking, squirming, 
and rutting. 

"The noises that came out of Ruth's throat were almost inhuman-for they were 
sounds of lusty greed. The animalism of her, the sweet-sour perfumed scent 
of heated sex, the fierce clenching on my cock, all of it was what I had 
dreamed about. My balls exploded. She screamed aloud when the hot sperm 
blasted her innards, her depths. She shook violently in orgasm, then 
crumpled. 

"At that moment, Ruth was the greatest fuck that I had ever had in my life. 
Here was a woman who accepted the size of my cock as something other than an 
object of horror. It's times like that when a young guy falls in 
love-forgetting about the age difference involved. I felt giddy, I wanted to 
tell her all sorts of crazy, romantic, silly, sexy things. I guess I did, 
too, but she wasn't really listening. She was concentrating on getting my 
cock erect again. And that's when she told me she wanted it up the ass! 

"I couldn't believe what I heard. She had to be out of her head. That first 
fuck had twisted her brain. My cock up anyone's ass? It was incredible-and 
impossible. Sure, I had heard all about ass-fucking. I'd read about it and 
seen pictures of it; I knew that faggots did it. It was just simply beyond 
my comprehension, however, that any girl who had seen me would consider it. 
Yet, after all the trouble I'd had in my young life just getting into a few 
cunts, here was a woman suggesting-no, urging-a sex act I had never imagined 
as a possibility. You know, I actually tried to talk her out of it. Why ruin 
a beautiful thing, I figured. But she was insistent, so much so that I had 
no choice but to go along with her. 

"When I was hard again, she brought a tube of lubricating jelly and greased 
up my cock and her anus. By the time I felt her hands smearing the 
lubricant, I had become really excited at the prospect. Okay, if she wanted 
it that bad, I thought, she'll get it in spades. I was already feeling less 
romantic toward Ruth and more caught up with the sensualism of her weird 
desire. 

"She positioned herself on her knees and elbows toward the head of the bed. 
Her ass was like two smooth, pale domes jutting up in front of me. The dark 
pink anus, just slightly fringed with fine hairs, was puckered and shiny 
from the jelly. It looked so damn small compared to the head of my cock that 
when I pushed my slippery knob between the cheeks of her ass, I half 
expected her to change her mind and call it off. Christ, couldn't she feel 
the disparity? I guess she could, but you wouldn't have known it to listen 
to her. She asked me what I was waiting for; she called me a dumb kid with a 
big cock who didn't know what to do with it. 

"That pulled the trigger. I worked into the greased crevice and butted her 
hips and bored forward with steady, even pressure. As rigid as it was, my 
whole cock was bending like a bow. I could feel the crinkled flesh giving 
way before it. I don't know what I had expected, but the sensation was 
fantastic. Not just the physical sensation of the ever-widening tight hole, 
either. There was a feeling of absolute power involved that was unlike the 
satisfaction I had felt earlier while fucking. I could look down and see 
that ring stretching incredibly. 

I clenched my teeth and thought: don't slip out, go slowly, slowly, and it 
will go in. The only sound I could hear was her grunting, labored breathing. 
Then she began to break wind. As if it were a signal, the head of my cock 
suddenly passed the tightest part of her ring and squirted forward. The 
impossible had happened. I was in her ass. Not by much, true enough, but the 
penetration was irrevocable. Of course, I wasn't the only one who realized 
it. She grunted hoarsely, 'Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!' 

"It could have been one minute or ten, I'm not sure. But I had reamed in 
steadily enough to begin to pump. That's when I first got the full sensation 
of the undulations of her ass-hole. It set my balls on fire. She was yelling 
at me by then, urging me to go faster and deeper. Faster was easy but deeper 
was a problem. Yet, somehow it was happening. I was into her ass-hole better 
than halfway up my cock. Every time I shoved forward, she moaned. Every time 
I pulled back, she squealed. Sweat was pouring off me as I heaved and 
pulled. I thought I was going to turn her inside out on every backstroke. 

"Never, never had anything felt that hot and wild. And far from discouraging 
me, her moans and groans only triggered me into a fever of frantic 
ass-fucking. On Ruth's part, it was total anal abandon. For me, it was 
barely controlled savagery. When her orgasm hit, it felt as though she was 
having convulsions. When I came up her rectum, I thought half my guts 
erupted in the process. 

"So that was my inauguration and that was Ruth. She taught me a lot about 
real estate-the intimate territories. She was an anal erotic of the first 
order. And, understandably, I spent more time in her ass than anywhere else. 
It was from her that I learned a lot about a woman's desire for pain. She 
used to talk a lot about the exquisite pleasure of being hurt. In other 
words, what made Ruth so different was her willingness to admit her sexual 
cravings. I mean, she just didn't like to be hurt or used in general; hers 
was a specific need. I'll be forever grateful for what she taught me. 

"It was Ruth who first introduced me to group sex, also. She was a swinger, 
as I told you. One man wasn't enough for her, even someone with a cock as 
big as mine. Frankly, I was jealous when she first told me that as great as 
I was, she couldn't consider having an exclusive affair. She promised, 
however, to take me to an orgy. Right away my jealousy dissipated. If the 
other gals involved were anything like Ruth, I had it made. I mean, just 
stop and think about the kind of women who would participate in orgies. They 
had to have strong sexual appetites, a lack of inhibitions, no phony 
hang-ups-right? Wrong. 

"It turned out be one of those sex groups I mentioned earlier, a 
neighborhood kind of wife swapping club. The rules weren't so rigid, though, 
that they didn't include a few single gals, divorcees like Ruth. It was 
understood that occasionally she'd bring along an unattached friend. For the 
next occasion, I was the friend. Christ, it was a disaster! 

"The other four couples were married. Not that I gave a damn about that, but 
it went a long way to prove something later. At first I thought everything 
was going to be great. When we stripped out of our clothes, there were 
plenty of oohs and aahs over the size of my cock. The wives were acting like 
they'd never seen one before, and the husbands were laughing and joking with 
me. I thought it was in good humor, but it turned out to be a cover. Somehow 
I was a threat to them, to their so-called masculinity. The wives weren't 
much better. For all their comments about my cock, only a couple of them 
wanted to take it on, and then reluctantly. 

"As it turned out, I spent most of the night getting sucked off. Two lousy, 
strained fucks were all I could squeeze in. Ruth finally had to come to the 
rescue by staging a little exhibition in which I gave it to her up the ass. 
The group seemed to get a charge out of it, but every one of the wives 
hooted and swore that they'd never try anything like that with me. I thought 
to myself then: Why the goody-goody bitches! Here they are fucking and 
sucking men in front of their own husbands, even eating cunt practically in 
public, and they have the gall to put me down. 

"It was about then I began to realize that cunts like that had to be shown 
what a real cock was like. There wasn't much I could do about it then, 
though. I told Ruth to forget about anymore orgies. We continued to see each 
other off and on for a few months until I left the real estate firm and set 
up an office of my own. It was about that time I met Ann. Then Ruth just 
faded from my life. 

"Ann was as different from Ruth as night from day. She was very blonde and 
pretty rather than exotic. She had a perfect figure, the hourglass kind, but 
she was only five three. She was also a virgin. Or maybe I should say, she 
was the damndest virgin I'd ever met. 

"She came to me to sell a house that had been left to her by her family. 
Since she was attractive and unattached, I gave her a little pitch as a 
client and took her out. Clearing the title to her property took some time, 
and we saw each other regularly. Sexually, too. That's where the virgin 
thing comes into it. We got cozy on the second date and, because she was my 
age and seemed mature enough, I came right out and told her I'd like to fuck 
her. Just as straight, she told me no, it would be impossible. She was a 
virgin, she said, and she intended to remain that way until she was married. 
I was ready to call the whole thing off right there, and that's when she 
twisted me up. She said she didn't have anything against sex, just fucking. 
There were a lot of ways we could have fun together and please each other 
and relieve our tensions-couldn't I settle for that? I didn't know if I 
could or not, but I decided to give it a try. 

"Well, to be brief, we did everything conceivable to one another with our 
hands and mouths. I would suck her tits and lick her cunt for hours, and she 
would feast on my cock for equal amounts of time. I tickled her ass-hole 
with my tongue, and she would do the same for me. She would blow me to 
ejaculation and swallow it, or jerk me off-whatever my pleasure. In turn, I 
would work on her clitoris until she reached orgasm. But the line was drawn 
at penetration; she would only allow my finger a little way up her cunt, no 
farther, really, than I could reach with my tongue. The same limit applied 
to her ass. 

"Now, if I had been seventeen or eighteen years old at the time, it wouldn't 
have been so weird and not nearly as frustrating. Yet I tolerated it. Not 
only that, I enjoyed considerably more pleasure than frustration. The reason 
was this: never once, from the first moment she saw me naked, did Ann ever 
mention the size of my cock. She didn't get that 'Oh my God!' expression of 
impending disaster in her eyes, nor did she gnaw at her lips or turn pale. 
She didn't shout for joy or do handstands either. 

"But the absence of a negative reaction was more meaningful to me than 
gleeful acclaim. I thought, here's a girl who isn't intimidated. Here's a 
girl who's a realist, a girl who knows what she's got, isn't scared of it, 
and her reasons for refusing to accept it are legitimate enough:-a desire to 
retain her virginity. It was something to feel good about. You can 
understand my state of mind at that moment. Perhaps, too, you can see how 
susceptible I was to a relationship that involved far more than just sex. 

"In a nutshell, I asked her to marry me. She said yes immediately. She put 
her virginity on the line with the full knowledge-every inch of it-of what 
she was getting into, or what would be getting into her. I had no doubt that 
with patience and understanding, on both our parts, we could make the proper 
physical adjustment. I had no thought at the time, or at least it wasn't a 
conscious thought, of using her ass as a sexual receptacle. The thing with 
Ruth had been wild, but it was over. My earlier thoughts about bitchy 
females and their need for pain and subjugation were far in the back of my 
mind. Ann was different. So much for my fantasy. 

"The night of our wedding, I suggested that it might be easier for her if I 
used a lubricant. I'll never forget that moment. She threw her head back and 
gave a sort of snorting laugh and said: 'You have to be kidding, darling! 
You're not going to put that monstrous thing in me. I thought you understood 
that. And why would you want to? We've had a perfectly beautiful 
relationship. Be an angel and don't spoil it all now.' 

"I was dumbfounded. Either she or I was insane. I asked her what in hell she 
was talking about, and she gave me more of the same stupid illogic. I didn't 
lose control by going berserk; the rage was all inside of me-a cool, 
calculating rage. After all I had believed in her! Well, no wife of mine was 
going to refuse me my rights. She'd fuck-oh, would she fuck! And I made up 
my mind on the spot that it wouldn't be just her cunt that got it. 

"Yeah, she screamed. She screamed until I gagged her. You see, we were in a 
hotel and I didn't want any interruptions. Prior to that I had ripped off 
her negligee. And I had a hard-on, a huge angry hard-on just from the 
emotion of knowing what I was going to do. I suppose you could call it rape. 
But it was legal rape. She was my wife, and she had just flatly refused to 
fuck. No, it was more than that: she had told me that she was never going to 
fuck, that she intended for our married life to be just one continuous round 
of adolescent sex play. 

"When I lifted her onto the bed, she was trembling with fright, trying to 
squeeze her thighs together to protect her naked cunt. Suddenly, she was 
just the same as all the other bitches I'd ever met. All the old thoughts 
about how to handle them flooded my mind. My God, busting her cherry was too 
good for her! I'd let her keep her precious virginity. Her ass-hole was the 
target. 

"I grabbed her ankles and flipped her over on her belly. Then I pulled on 
her until she was half off the bed, her ass sticking up at the edge. Because 
I wanted to drive into her as deep as possible and not hurt myself in the 
process, I coated my cock with the vaseline I had intended to use on her 
cunt. I leaned on her and pinned the upper part of her body to the bed. She 
had no idea at which hole I was going to vent my anger. But, of course, she 
could hardly protest. All she could do, was pound her head on the mattress 
and gnaw at the torn piece of negligee that was her gag. I maneuvered the 
thick hardness of my cock to the lower part of her cunt. I rubbed the head 
there firmly to confuse her. Then I came up those scant two inches that make 
so much difference. I shoved! Hard! 

"I caught her completely by surprise. The bitch hadn't even had time to 
stiffen or clench her sphincter. The head of my cock plundered in before she 
realized where the ripping pain was located. Christ, how she squirmed and 
tried to reach back to claw me. It was futile, of course. Once inside her, I 
held her hips in a vise and jabbed brutally. Then I pumped with every ounce 
of my weight. 

"Even to this day, I get excited thinking about it. It was the first time I 
sexually tormented someone deliberately-and I had no feeling at all except 
for the power of pleasure. With each inch that I gouged into that tight 
hole, I felt better and better. Even if she hadn't been gagged, if we had 
been in a private place, neither screams nor supplications could have made 
me stop. I was possessed with making her feel as cruelly used as possible. 
The physical signs of her agony didn't dissuade me, either. I could see the 
traces of blood on my cock when I pulled it out to mount another savage 
stroke. Good, I thought, beautiful-the bitch is only getting what she 
deserves. It didn't matter to me what vein I tapped for her virgin's blood. 

"Something else that amazed me during this initial assault on Ann's ass was 
my odd ability to fuck for tremendous lengths of time without coming. It was 
as if a new dimension had been added to my virility. It gave me the 
opportunity to toy with her and add to her torment. I could change the 
rhythm of my stroking so as not to allow her to relieve the pain by 
anticipating my moves. I could sway from side to side and grind the hard 
flesh of my cock on the torn tissues of her ass-hole and I could tease her 
cunt. This is where I got my second shock of the night. 

"The way I had her bent at the waist, and her crotch spread, caused her 
usually tight cunt to gape open. I snaked a finger harshly up the flesh of 
that hole, farther than she had ever allowed during our sex play of the 
past. And what do you think I found up there in the cunt of my virgin bride! 
That's right, nothing. No virginal membrane, hymen, cherry, whatever you 
want to call it. Nothing but smooth, moist cunt. The bitch had even lied 
about that! 

"I pulled my cock viciously out of her ass-hole and slammed it into her 
cunt. All sorts of crazy, ugly thoughts were spinning around in my brain. 
She was a whore! Worse than any of the others, her deception had been just 
as cruel as my treatment of her at that moment-and how could I ever have 
been so stupid to believe her? Oh, I fucked her like I'd never fucked anyone 
in my life. I didn't care if I fucked her to death. She was going to pay, 
and pay, and pay for having made such a fool of me. And, the worst thought 
of all, the bitch had even gotten me to marry her! 

"When I finally did come after what seemed like hours, I just left her lying 
there torn fore and aft, whimpering and sobbing through her gag. In the 
bathroom I looked at my watch; it wasn't even midnight. Well, I thought, 
here goes one of the shortest marriages on record. I didn't give a damn. She 
taught me a lesson, and I taught her a different one in return. The 
satisfaction I felt was of having stretched those tight virgin holes beyond 
the point where the next man would be fooled. I took a shower to wash off 
the stains of blood and shit on my cock and, afterwards, massaged it with 
cold cream to relieve the scraping it had taken. While I was in the 
bathroom, I had expected her to remove the gag, throw on some clothes, and 
escape me, her monster husband. I wasn't worried about her screaming rape. 
She wouldn't have enough guts to tell anyone what happened. Yet, neither did 
I expect her to still be there, in bed, waiting for me when I entered the 
bedroom. 

"What I found was that she had dried her tears and her eyes were shining. 
The expression on her face was one of discovery. She didn't say anything 
when I approached the bed. She pulled back the covers and let me in next to 
her. Then she bent down, kissed my cock, and rolled over and went to sleep. 
That told me all I needed to know about how to treat her or any other 
female." 

Adam M., the thirty-one year old subject of this case history, is far more 
than just an example of an anally orientated, sadistically inclined 
personality. He is a repository for about as much sexual misinformation, 
illogical pseudo-psychology and erroneous fact about women as can be hoarded 
in one individual. And, of course, he is dangerously disturbed. 

The abnormally large penis of Adam has been a lifelong source of emotional 
and psychic conflict to him. The erstwhile pioneer sexologist, Krafft-Ebing, 
was one of the first to notice a correlation between abnormally sized 
genitals and sexual aberration. Yet the few cases Krafft-Ebing relates 
concern undersized penises, not those of exceptional dimension. A plethora 
of sex authorities from then until the present day have touched upon the 
psycho-sexual problems of the undersized male. It is the root cause of an 
often devastating inferiority complex. The male with the smaller than normal 
penis (Adam was nominally correct when he fixed the average penile size at 
five and a half inches at erection, although some doctors vary this 
measurement slightly) is often convinced at an early age that he can never 
properly perform the male function. This, often in spite of other sexually 
attractive attributes such as good looks, a handsome physique, or a 
potentially winning personality. Moreover, many men who are adequately 
endowed by any standard often suffer from a feeling of penile inadequacy. It 
is, in brief, a fear common to a large number of men. 

On the other hand, there is very little psychological information extant 
about the problems of males with extremely large phalluses. Most of the 
writing on that subject comes to us by way of marriage manuals which, in 
addressing themselves to wives and brides-to-be, attempt to ease the 
apprehensions of the female, concluding that to the inexperienced woman any 
penis may at first seem abnormally large. There is a great deal of 
information wrapped up in sex manuals that is concerned with making physical 
adjustment through specific coital positions. Again, these seem primarily 
for the woman's benefit. Little if any of this data appears to answer the 
questions of men like Adam. 

It is ironic that much of the same propaganda that causes penile inferiority 
complexes in males also contributed to our subject's problem. The reader is 
referred to his comment about the books he had read and the stag movies he 
had seen. The subject observed a preponderance of over-sized genitalia and 
drew the conclusion that it was both normal and desirable. Realistically, 
that is a false conclusion. Doctors Phyllis and Eberhard Kronhausen, in 
Pornography and The Law, listed as one of the major criteria of pornography, 
the "super-sexed male." Other writers examining written and visual erotica 
have also contended that exaggerated physical attributes, male and female, 
are an essential and consistent common denominator in such works. The vast 
majority of the readers of erotica are well aware that such exaggerations 
have no basis in reality. 

Adam, our subject, apparently had no such awareness. He, uniquely, matched 
the outrageous descriptions of the super-sexed males. As less endowed men 
irrationally envy the fictional heroes of erotica and suffer by comparison, 
Adam only reinforced his misconceptions. He clutched upon the fact that the 
nymphomaniac heroines of titillating literature and film were enamored by 
and driven to dizzying heights of passion by gigantic phalluses. Then, as if 
to reinforce his fantasy, he actually did meet and have an affair with a 
woman (Ruth) who was the embodiment of the fictional nymph. One is always 
hesitant to state how much emotional and sensual lives are affected by a 
single coincidence, but it is quite probable that Adam's sensual logic 
received an unfortunate arrest in meeting Ruth. His initial contact with 
anal intercourse occurred in the midst of a more general confusion about the 
sexual appetites and desires of most females. 

The subject's sexual conflict, however, began with adolescence. It is in 
this period that most young men display a great deal of concern over their 
penises. It is the time of youthful masturbatory experimentation, when there 
is anxiety over penile dimensions. There are the surreptitious comparisons 
with other males, peer group and adult. Adolescent sex talk is mainly 
hearsay, wishful fantasy entwined around a core of fact. Although valid sex 
education is currently a much discussed, and highly controversial social 
goal, its implementation is by no means widespread. During Adam's formative 
years, it was nonexistent. He and other young friends were victims of the 
prevailing sexual myths. At this point in his life, though, before he had 
actually experimented with girls, Adam was the subject of envy among his 
peers. While others worried about their potential penile growth, there was 
no doubt that Adam had already arrived as a sex symbol. It bolstered his 
ego; it strengthened his confidence in himself. He was not an unattractive 
young man; he found it easy to date. While many of his friends went through 
painful periods of shyness and anxiety, Adam was acknowledged to be a 
gregarious, popular, and successful lover. He was all those things except a 
lover in the physical and sexual sense. The girls whom he dated, with whom 
he petted and necked, did not allow him the ultimate liberties. And at this 
time in his life, it had nothing to do with the size of his penis. The girls 
were quite young (fourteen and fifteen), and were acting in deference to the 
social and sexual mores of a small town environment. Adam was an extremely 
frustrated young man. He took to lying about his sexual prowess and invented 
fanciful conquests of the fair sex. It reinforced his status in his peer 
group, but it played miserable with his conscience. To his friends he would 
brag, "and, fuck, when she saw the piece of meat I had for her, she couldn't 
stop squealing until I had it all the way in her." To himself, his mind 
reeled with the question, Why doesn't it happen that way? 

There is an incident in Adam's youth that is extremely illustrative of his 
earliest frustrations. When he was sixteen, he was no longer a virgin. His 
initial experience was not with a schoolmate but with a prostitute in a 
nearby city. It cost him ten dollars, and he considered it a good 
investment. Though he had merely performed coitus during a "short time" 
encounter, he embellished the story lewdly to the thrill of his friends. In 
turn, they honored him as a man among boys. Still, the subject's private 
confusion grew. One night, he followed a young girl not known to him to her 
home. He waited until she had just entered, then he went up the porch steps 
and knocked on the screen door. When she returned to answer, he undid his 
trousers and displayed his erect penis. The girl screamed and ran horrified 
into the house to summon her family. Adam slipped away and remained 
unidentified. There was talk of a "sex maniac" loose in the area. Adam does 
not know what compelled him to this act of exhibitionism, and it only 
occurred once. He was terrified of being caught and labeled as a pervert. 

In the subject's own scheme of sexuality, things never worked out quite the 
way he imagined or in ways that he let others imagine. It was at this time 
that he began blaming all of his sexual frustrations on the size of his 
penis. As soon as he reached the legal age to enlist in the Army with his 
parents' permission, he dropped out of school and joined. During the period 
of his enlistment, he did not try to date girls his own age, nor were there 
many opportunities to do so. He consistently utilized prostitutes for his 
sexual needs. Upon discharge, he relocated to a large city and embarked on a 
career in real estate. His narrative gives further examples of the 
frustrations he felt over a four year span prior to meeting Ruth, the older, 
less inhibited woman. 

His absurd and disturbing philosophy that females intrinsically desire pain 
and domination is a pathetic rationalization. In essence, he is getting even 
with all females for their lack of passionate attraction to him. This is the 
springboard for his sadism. His sadism, in turn, feeds upon his pathological 
need to see himself as the super-virile, super-sexed male. 

Concerning Adam's later marriage and involvement with sex-swapping, we shall 
put down his own words: 

"You can call what I do wife-swapping if you want to, but don't confuse it 
with the variety people call 'swinging.' That's just another name for 
getting some different fucking with your wife's permission. The bag I'm into 
is a little more selective. There are underground publications, you know, 
all over the country that carry advertisements for any manner of sexual 
pleasure. It's true that the majority of ads are placed by swingers who 
can't find a compatible group or other couple in their own town and 
neighborhoods. But many other ads are more explicit as to particular sexual 
activities. A couple of publications I subscribe to cater only to the 
offbeat. I can better explain to you by showing you the ad I run: 

Dominant Male and Submissive Wife. Exponents of Greek discipline. Attractive 
and discreet. She 36-24-36, he very largely endowed, seek similarly inclined 
active couples for mutual enlightenment.... 

"To anybody who knows what the score is, that bit about Greek discipline 
tells the whole story. Greek is the underground sex term for anal 
intercourse. Any guy reading my ad will know that I use my wife's ass 
harshly and would like to use his wife in the same way. If he's like me. he 
knows he gets the same honors. I'll admit that this kind of ad narrows the 
field considerably. Most of the time when you use the words dominant and 
submissive, you're put in the category of all the sadomasochists, the ones 
with all the leather, the whips, and the handcuffs. But that's not for me. 
The only whip I need is right between my legs. Still, you'd be surprised how 
many couples there are like us. I get replies from all over the country. And 
naturally, any ad I see that fits my scene, I write to. Most of the time 
because of distance and travel, I can't get together with those I contact. 
But between the couples who live locally and those that come to this area on 
vacations, I don't go without ass-punishing sessions for very long periods. 

"The one a couple of weeks ago was typical, maybe even more enjoyable than 
most. Their names were Harold and Nancy, and I'd previously exchanged a 
couple of letters with them. They were from out-of-state, but he arranged to 
bring his wife with him on a business trip here. In his last letter, he had 
sent along a snapshot that frankly turned me on. It showed the wife naked, 
bent over on her knees, with her hands tied behind her back. It was a rear 
view, but a little off to one side. That was so you could see that the wife 
was sucking off Harold, who was kneeling in front of her. The close-up of 
the ass, though, was the exciting part. Jammed up Nancy's ass-hole was one 
of those battery operated vibrators, the bullet-shaped kind that are about 
seven inches long. It wasn't just in at the tip; it was shoved in so far 
that only an inch of it showed popping out between the cheeks of her ass. 
When I saw that, I knew I was in touch with a couple of kindred souls. 
Personally, I don't send out pictures. It's a precaution on my part. If my 
letters don't entice anyone, to hell with it. Anyway, Harold and Nancy 
arrived in town and came out to the house that night. 

"I suppose I should explain my relationship with Ann at this time. When I 
classify her as submissive, I mean just that. She knows her place, her role, 
and I suppose you could say she's used to it. Certainly, she doesn't 
protest. Oh, when I'm treating her particularly harshly or when someone else 
is, she cries and whimpers and squeals, that sort of crap. But she's always 
ready for more. Although she doesn't beg to be hurt and doesn't provoke 
punishment like a died-in-the-wool masochist, I can see her getting nervous 
when she isn't taken care of. Even when I'm not feeling especially lusty, I 
often surprise her somewhere in the house at odd times and rip a quick hard 
one into her ass just to show her I still care for her. 

"As for Ann accepting the same treatment from relative strangers, she says 
she detests it, that it's horrible, and that she never thinks she can stand 
it the next time. That's what she says. I happen to know she gets an extra 
thrill out of it. Take, for instance, that picture Harold sent. I watched 
her looking at it, and I knew damn well all she could see in the photo was 
herself with that electric dildo stuck in her ass. 

"Which, by the way, gave me a great idea. I had never before thought about 
having one of those vibrators around, but it seemed the perfect time. An 
hour before Harold and Nancy were due at the house, I ordered Ann to bend 
over and lift her skirt. I won't allow her to wear panties, you know. She 
had on a garter belt and nylons. She argued that it wasn't fair to our 
guests to start so early. She wasn't aware of the surprise I had in store 
for her. 

"When Ann bared her round ass for me, I goosed her anus a couple of times, 
causing her to gasp, then I pushed the vibrator in. The cold, smooth plastic 
did something to her at once, She didn't know immediately exactly what it 
was. When I got it in right up to the hilt, I turned it on. She knew; the 
picture of Nancy came back to her immediately. She didn't gasp or cry out, 
she just sighed. 

"When our guests arrived, Ann was sitting on the couch, the vibrating dildo 
still in her ass. Without explaining why, I apologized for the fact she 
couldn't get up. I mixed us all a drink, surveying my prospective sex 
object. Harold was the forthright type, which I like. He settled on the 
couch next to Ann, patted her leg, and proceeded to tell me that Nancy was 
to be considered my property for the evening. I could do anything I wanted 
with her, short of beating her. Restraining her was acceptable, sometimes 
necessary; so was spanking. If she gave me any trouble, I was to tell Harold 
immediately. I don't know exactly what threat he held over her, but I could 
feel her twitch at my side when he mentioned it. Then it was my turn to 
offer my wife to him. 

"There's a kind of etiquette that those of us with experience follow in such 
situations. Un-like swingers, we are dealing with the surety of masculine 
strength. The wives say hello to each other, but there's no social chit-chat 
crap. The men usually start talking sex in short order; partially to let the 
wives know exactly where they stand and what's expected of them, and also to 
inform the other husband what limitations to adhere to and, perhaps, what 
oddball behavior to expect. 

"I told Harold: 'I thought you might have noticed that the couch is shaking 
a bit. When I take Nancy into the bedroom, feel free to bend Ann over and 
see how I turned her on for you.' He put his hand on the cushion near her 
ass, then grinned. He complimented me on a thoughtful gesture. Ann was being 
particularly demure, the bitch; all she could do was lower her eyes shyly 
like a schoolgirl. When I guided Nancy down the hallway toward the bedroom, 
I looked over my shoulder to see that Harold had stood up and unzipped his 
pants. He pulled out a semi-rigid cock-nowhere the size of mine, of 
course-and was guiding it toward her mouth. I could see that he was a 
thoughtful gentleman, too. He was going to leave the vibrator in her ass for 
awhile and indulge himself. 

"In the bedroom, I told Nancy to strip. She did as told without my having to 
raise my voice or threaten her. She was nervous and blushing, but she wasn't 
hesitant. I think that in her own odd way she was confident of herself. She 
understood that she wouldn't be there, displaying her somewhat thin but 
well-proportioned naked body to a virtual stranger, unless she had wanted it 
so. She thought she had an idea of what to expect from me, and she was 
probably sure that she could handle it and enjoy it. And that is the part, 
the moment, that I love about these confrontations. Maybe it's another 
reason why I don't send pictures of myself to prospective contacts. Her 
confidence was entirely misplaced. She hadn't seen my cock. 

"I undressed, making it a point to leave my pants until last. She was 
watching my crotch closely as I undid my fly. Then I quickly dropped my 
pants and stepped out of them. The expression on her face caused my cock to 
jerk into immediate erection. She stared wide-eyed and unbelieving. Her hand 
flew involuntarily up to her mouth to stifle a cry. Still in awe, she shook 
her head slowly to protest anything I might intend with my huge hard meat. 

"But I was used to that kind of reaction. She didn't slow me down for a 
second. I stepped up to her and grabbed a tit harshly with one hand. With 
the other, I grabbed a handful of her dark blonde hair. I hurt her just 
enough so she'd know I meant business. Then I ordered her and forced her 
down to her knees. I demanded that she suck and lick my cock at my 
direction. I told her that it was to her benefit that she get it very 
slippery and slick. Shortly it would be going up her ass-and I wasn't going 
to use vaseline. When I said that, I could feel her lips, already gulping at 
my cockhead, tremble at the prospect. I had a feeling that Harold was right, 
that this was one of those times that I would have to tie a bitch up. 

"In the meantime, she was blowing me as per instructions and doing an 
excellent job. I'm sure she realized that she was going to get her ass-hole 
stretched immensely despite any protest she might make. She purposely laid 
down a good layer of saliva along the length of my cock. That accomplished, 
I ordered her to the bed. I used one of my wife's stockings to tie her hands 
behind her back. She was a lovely sight, the picture of helplessness. I 
recalled what Harold had said about a spanking, and I gave her a dozen sharp 
smacks on each of her cheeks. The pale skin reddened fiercely, but I have no 
patience for that kind of teasing. I took her to the point where the moaning 
began, then I got behind her in a position to really give her something to 
scream about. 

"It was obvious that her ass-hole had been used considerably. I jabbed one, 
then two fat fingers into her wrinkled rectum and twisted them from side to 
side. Her sphincter fought me, but it was too loose to be effective. I 
remember thinking, as I replaced my fingers with the head of my cock, that 
it would be a bit of a challenge. Any ideas I had about restraining myself 
seemed to evaporate. I yelled at her to shove back. When she did, I rammed 
forward! 

"Now there, friend, was a scream like you've never heard before! My cock 
smashed up that back alley like it was going to rip a hole right through her 
belly. Beautiful! I don't think she knew what the hell had happened to her 
for a couple of moments. She choked on her scream and went all wobbly. Next 
she was trying to crawl out from under me, yelling, 'No, no, no!' You had 
better believe that she didn't keep that up for long. Every time she said 
no, I gave her a fast, hard, deep stroke. 

"In a few minutes, I had her saying, 'Yes, yes, yes!' I knew it was hurting 
her, but there she was begging for more. Her ass-hole was a greedy whore all 
by itself. She wanted more, and I was the boy who could give it to her. I 
fucked her so far up the ass that my balls were rapping at her cunt. To tell 
you the truth, that's about as deep as I'd ever gotten into an ass. And she 
dug every long, hard inch of it. It seemed like she didn't stop having 
orgasms. She was a gusher, too. Along with my balls and our thighs, the 
bedspread under her was soaking. 

"As for my own climax, there was no sense in giving her exactly what she 
wanted. It never hurts to reinforce your absolute power over them. When my 
balls tightened and I felt the load surging to get out, I tore my cock out 
of her anus. I threw her over on her back, grabbed her hair, and pulled her 
head down. The instant her lips clamped around my slimy, bursting erection, 
I shot a fantastic load of molten come into her mouth and throat. There was 
so much it was oozing out the corners of her mouth. Naturally, she was 
obliged to clean up every last drop." 

The element of sadism which plays such a compelling role in the bizarre sex 
life of Adam M. is quite excessive in comparison to most anal erotic males. 
Fortunately, he has found his own niche on the outer reaches of sex swapping 
in which he can indulge his perverted pleasure. He is not alone. As he 
himself stated, there are many others who share or complement similar 
aberrations. There is every possibility that Adam will progress to more 
classical sadistic behavior. Presently he eschews the symbolic, fetishistic, 
and ritualistic trappings of sadomasochism. Yet the overwhelming evidence 
leads unswervingly to the conclusion that he will be influenced in that 
direction over a period of time. In his own recounting of his recent tryst, 
he most readily, almost without thought, used a mechanical device to produce 
discomfort; incorporated spanking as a chastisement; and utilized an 
instrument of restraint and bondage. There is no doubt, given the man's 
background, that his sadism will remain centered on analism. But even 
murkier waters lie ahead. 

There is a valuable lesson in this case history for the so-called swingers 
and mate-traders of more popular and less disturbed persuasion. Many males 
who favor anal intercourse may be working out sadistic impulses that lie 
just above the surface of their sexual psyche. The 

"friendly" sex-swapping group that tolerates an excess of analism may find 
itself gradually and unwittingly being swayed toward collective 
sadomasochism. To be sure, it would be mild at first. But the sexual trigger 
is ever-present. If the current indicators are correct, this is a growing 
nationwide phenomenon in sex-swapping today. Certain sexually liberated 
individuals may scoff and contend that anal eroticism has just as valid a 
place in group sex as any other act. They may be right-but they should be 
vigilant to the inherent dangers of awakening and encouraging latent sadism 
in males far less disturbed than the subject of this case history. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

The Anal Reluctant 

"Before I talk about my analism with a sex group, I have to tell you what it 
was like for me as a kid-what it was like and what it meant to me to be 
popular and have dates. You can't understand the rest of it without that. 
Not long ago I read a book on swapping, and the writer called it 'social 
sex.' You know, that's funny. I never thought of what I'm doing now, as a 
married woman, by any other name but swapping. Back when I was a teenager, 
though, I also called it social sex. And, God, was I social! 

"There were only two ways to go in the town where I grew up: down or out. If 
you didn't lay down for a fuck, you were out of it. No dances, no parties, 
no fun, no kicks. Oh sure, there were some girls who had a third choice; 
they were the bookworms or girls who came from strict religious families. 
They could say no and accept the social isolation. There were a couple of 
other girls, too, who were so damn beautiful they could say no and still go 
out and have fun every night of the week. But not me. I was one of those 
girls who always got the line, 'Fuck or walk home.' I only walked home once. 
More times than I can remember, I fucked. 

"You wouldn't know it by looking at me now, but when I was sixteen and 
seventeen, I wasn't a very attractive girl. Some kids take longer to 
blossom, and I was a late bloomer. The only thing I had going for me were my 
tits. They were as big as any girl's in the high school and bigger than 
most. The trouble was that the rest of me was big, too. I was fat-not in the 
ugly, obese sense, but just thick and round all over. I had an overdose of 
baby fat that wouldn't go away. I would see guys look at my tits and get 
that gleam in their eyes, then they would look down at my big hips, ass, 
thighs and ankles and you could just see the light go out. 

"Poor Marilyn. That was me. If she'd only lose some weight, she could be 
cute. What a laugh! I tried everything; I drove my mother nuts with crazy 
diets. Nothing worked, except fucking. I didn't lose an ounce, of course, 
but I always somehow felt prettier and thinner after I had been fucked. 

"My teenage sex life always seemed to involve embarrassments and 
humiliations. Losing my virginity was a humiliation. That happened before 
the high school sex got started. That was the summer I was fifteen. My 
parents had a lake cottage, and all kinds of friends and relatives used to 
crawl out of the woodwork every summer and visit us. The one person I'll 
hardly forget, however, was a third cousin named Fred. He was a couple of 
years older than I, and a mean, pimply-faced son-of-a-bitch that I never did 
like. He caught me in the boathouse one day while I was changing out of a 
bathing suit. He had watched me before, I found out, and he'd seen me play 
with myself. 

"I don't mean that I masturbated or finger-fucked myself. I was curious 
about my body, that was all. And I was experiencing those odd sensations a 
young girl gets. Mostly I squeezed my tits and fondled them. After all, as I 
said, they were the only attractive thing I had going and they were already 
quite large. I might as well be honest-I also fooled around with my slit. A 
rough towel felt awfully good down there after I peeled off a wet bathing 
suit. Rubbing with the terry cloth would start a warm glow that spread from 
my cunt to deep up inside me. 

"I knew this form of masturbating was decidedly sexual, but it was also 
something that nice girls didn't do. In fact, that's where cousin Fred had 
me over a barrel. He said he'd tell everyone and expose me if I didn't fuck 
for him. How was I to know the threat was hollow? I was too introverted and 
too unsure of myself not to believe him. 

"I let him play with my tits and nipples and feel my body. At first it felt 
like slimy snakes crawling over me. Then his fingers were rubbing my cunt, 
and I found myself trying to fight the warm sensation he was causing. I was 
scared and whimpering, as I remember it, when he pulled down his pants and 
pushed me over on a pile of boat cushions. His prick was hard and looked 
horribly huge to me. At the same time, he seemed so adult about it all. He 
was carrying a rubber in his wallet, and when he put it on he explained what 
it was, what it was for, and that it was also lubricated so that he wouldn't 
hurt me. 

"Partly in fear, partly in fascination, I didn't cry out. I watched him roll 
the rubber on his cock and resigned myself to the fact he was going to hurt 
me. He did hurt me, too-in the very beginning. He felt like a big pole 
inching up inside me. There was a sharp stab of pain that caused me to bite 
my lip to keep from yelling. But after that, I hardly felt him. I remembered 
all the secret, snickering discussions I'd had with my girlfriends-a couple 
of whom were testifying from personal experience-and the talk about the 
fantastic sensations that were supposed to occur. Yet, there he was drilling 
the whole of his hard prick into me and there were no fireworks at all, just 
an odd pressure further up than I had ever felt before. 

"It wasn't for very long, though. I don't think cousin Fred made it for more 
than three or four minutes. So that was fucking, I thought. I hated the 
little bastard for forcing me into it, and I was terrified that my folks 
would find out. But I also knew that nothing very damaging had happened to 
me. I suffered his adolescent blackmail all that summer, avoiding him 
whenever I could. Un-like my girlfriends, I didn't talk about it under the 
heading of 'What did you do on vacation?' when I returned to high school 
that fall. No one knew I was no longer a virgin, but then no one cared 
either. 

'The next humiliation was the one, I think, that got me really started on 
the sexual merry-go-round. I had a so-called girlfriend by the name of Pat 
who was known as a CT, a cock-teaser. Well, she could get away with it. She 
was cute, she had a curvy body, and she had a way of talking sexy, sometimes 
even dirty, that turned the boys on. I knew damn well why she used to haul 
me around with her. No competition. When the boys flocked around, she'd get 
all the attention. I was also an excuse so that she wouldn't get into any 
tight sexual spots. With me along, two guys would fight over her and she 
could do all the cock teasing she wanted, knowing that she wouldn't have to 
be alone with one of them, that the other wasn't going to settle for me. 
Well, one night I changed the rules of the game. 

"We were at a local hamburger hangout, and she was into her act with two 
senior guys who were out cruising. They were bugging her to go for a ride, 
and she was giving them the, 'Oh, I just couldn't leave Marilyn,' routine. 
Usually, that got her off the hook. This night, though, the guys didn't back 
down. They left the shop, saying they'd be right back. From where I was 
sitting, I could see (outside. While Pat went into her standard dialogue 
about how boys were only after her fair body and didn't give a damn about 
the sanctity of friendship, I could see the two guys flipping a coin 
outside. 

"I didn't need to be precocious at sixteen to realize what the two guys were 
doing. I pulled my eyes away and felt the awful hurt and embarrassment. The 
boys were going to push the issue-and the loser of the coin toss would get 
me. I didn't let on to Pat what I'd seen. When the guys came back, the one 
named Bill rather formally asked us to go riding, then with a graciousness I 
appreciated, asked me to be with him. Right away Pat started fumbling for 
excuses. That's when I perversely put her on the spot. I exclaimed aloud 
that we would love to go for a ride, that we had nothing else to do at all. 
Then I proceeded to shoot down Pat's increasingly feeble arguments. 

"We left with the boys. Bill, as I had suspected, was going to drive. Ronnie 
and Pat would be in the darkened back seat. Bill didn't know it then, and 
for all I knew he wasn't even considering it, but he was going to get fucked 
and fucked good. I was going to get even with Pat for all the condescending, 
patronizing, humiliating put-downs that she ever laid on me. I was going to 
let the boys know where the action was. 

"Ostensibly, we headed toward a nearby small town to see what was 
happening-and there was the inevitable short cut. We parked by a mill pond 
known as a lovers' lane, and already from the back seat I could hear Pat 
giving out with the coy lines she always used when the going got tough. Bill 
lit a cigarette and offered me one. He was sitting stiffly behind the wheel. 
Aside from the glow from our smoking, it was pitch black. I learned about 
the line 'All cats are gray in the dark' years later, but it seemed to have 
its application then. 

"Bill kept edging toward me and drawing me closer with what appeared to be 
mixed emotions. I think he wanted to save face by making some sort of play 
but he wasn't too eager. And yes, I was hurt, damn hurt. If I hadn't felt 
like such an unmitigated bitch, I would have burst into tears and run off. 
Or if I had been cooler and less sensitive, I would have suggested a walk 
around the pond and got us both off the hook. But I didn't; I knew it was 
time for a boldness that I had never felt before. I snuggled close to Bill, 
thinking of cousin Fred's cock. I remembered the size of it, the hardness, 
the red mushroom that was the first thing to push into me. I remembered 
mainly how little it actually had hurt. And how much better looking Bill was 
than cousin Fred. 

"I twisted in the seat so that the hand attached to the arm over my shoulder 
couldn't help but fall on my tit. For a second, he almost pulled away, then 
he realized it was an offering. But I didn't want to settle for getting my 
tits felt up. Again, for saving face, he might have settled for just that, 
but I was determined to go a lot further. I slid my hand up his thigh and 
came to the cock bulge in his crotch. I squeezed the firmness with my 
fingertips and felt him grow beneath his pants. While I caressed him to full 
erection, he opened my sweater and tugged off my bra. If I had any second 
thoughts about what I was doing, I had just gone beyond the point of no 
return. I undid his belt and unzipped his pants. I had a terrible time 
getting his hard cock out of his jockey shorts, but I don't think he gauged 
my inexperience. He shoved down both pants and shorts so they were below his 
knees. The thick, hard cock I held in my hand was twitching straight 
upright. 

"He was bigger than cousin Fred, but I wasn't frightened. It wasn't just 
that I was going to fuck for this guy Bill, but that I was going to outrage 
the whole lot of them. I had heard about cocksucking from other girls, 
although cousin Fred hadn't forced that act on me. Nevertheless, I 
considered it a really dirty thing to do-something a boy would remember. 

"I let Bill pull down my slacks and panties and massage the lips of my cunt 
with his fingers. Still gripping and squeezing his cock, I lowered my head 
into his lap. My eyes were accustomed to the dark just enough to see the 
paleness of his hard-on. I took the head of it between my lips and licked at 
it with my tongue. I felt him tense, then relax, maybe in astonishment. I 
didn't exactly know what to do. I had heard the term 'cocksucking.' Then 
again I had heard the guys use the term 'blow job.' As dumb as it sounds to 
me today, that's what I did with my mouth: I blew, then I sucked, and 
whatever I lacked in expertise I made up for in enthusiasm. 

"And, God, was I noisy! Earlier there had been rustling and wrestling noises 
from the back seat, but there was suddenly a dead stillness except for the 
sounds of my wet mouth on Bill's cock. Actually, that thrilled me more than 
what I was doing. I realized what it must have looked like from the back 
seat; the slurping and puffing, my head out of sight, the movement of the 
seat, and finally Bill throwing his head back and moaning. Soon he had a 
finger inside my cunt and was working away rapidly. That was an additional 
wet sound. I heard Pat protesting once again-she had lost her coyness and 
sounded terrified. 

"Shortly, I forgot all about her. I asked Bill in un urgent whisper if he 
had a rubber. He did, and I continued to suck him while he got it out. Then 
I put it on for him. He thought that was a wildly lewd, sophisticated 
gesture for such a young girl. I didn't let on that I did it to hurry things 
up and that I only knew how from watching cousin Fred. Then I threw one bare 
leg on the back of the seat and gave Bill the spread he wanted. With my cunt 
wide open, it didn't matter to anyone how fat and unattractive I was. I 
grabbed his rubber-clad, rock-hard cock and guided him into me. 

"Un-like the summer scenes with Fred when I was afraid to open my mouth for 
fear of being discovered, I now let myself respond to what I felt. When he 
shoved it in strongly and deep, I groaned. When he stroked, I urged him to 
fuck me harder. When he had me hot, I was gasping harshly. I was no longer 
the emotionless blob that I had been with my cousin. I threw my big ass into 
the action and thrust my cunt up to meet his plunges. I kicked up my heels 
and grabbed him around the ass as best I could in that confined space. The 
whole damn car was rocking and fucking! 

"I had my first orgasm then, and I suppose I would have enjoyed it more if 
it hadn't been for my girlfriend Pat screaming at me. Oh, did she curse and 
vilify me! It was music to my ears. I had sabotaged her. I had shown her up 
for the real cock-teaser she was. Ronnie had gotten so hot listening to me 
and Bill that he nearly raped her. It had taken all her strength to fight 
him off, and her final escape had been going into hysterics over my 
betrayal. 

"Well, I solved the problem for her. I offered to fuck Ronnie-and he took me 
up on it without hesitation. He kicked Pat out of the back seat, and I took 
her place. We fucked, noisily, all the way back from the mill pond. 

"Between showing up Pat for what she was and balling two seniors back to 
back, you can imagine how fast my reputation spread around the school. Good 
old Marilyn-good for a fuck, good for a suck. God, was I popular! I had a 
date any night I wanted one. Often, there was more than one guy. Yes, I was 
a whore, I admit it. The town slut, some said, but it didn't make any 
difference to me. I remember the night I took on seven guys. It was like a 
long parade of cocks. They had me upside down, sideways, and backwards. With 
one cock in me, I would suck another. Looking back, it's a wonder I didn't 
drown that night. I didn't think there was that much come in the whole male 
population. 

"To answer your question, no, there was no anal intercourse at that time. I 
don't think the boys I was sexually servicing had even considered it. For 
the most part, they were young and naive and, even if they were aware of 
ass-fucking from the pornography they used to giggle over, they seemed to 
get enough thrill and satisfaction out of getting laid or sucked off. Nor 
did I consider it, and I saw their pornography, too. It was simply not in 
our repertoire. Nevertheless, all of what I've just related about my teenage 
sex life had a lot to do with the analism that's now part of my adult sex 
life. You'll see what I mean. 

"Prior to what would have been my senior year in the local high school, my 
parents put me in a private girls' school. Sure, my reputation had gotten 
back to them-as if they couldn't have guessed by all the different guys I 
went out with and the hours I kept. Mine was the kind of town where a middle 
class family did not take an embarrassment like me to a psychiatrist. They 
just wrung their hands and said, 'Oh, where did we go wrong?' then shuffled 
the embarrassment out of sight and out of mind. 

"Anyway, what could a psychiatrist have told them? I already knew I was fat 
and unattractive and was using sex to compensate for it. And, yes, I felt 
guilty about it. Guilty or not, it was like a narcotic. I was hooked on sex. 
It was far better than the other choice-loneliness. 

"So I was shipped off to a boarding school where there would be no 
temptations. That was a laugh! I landed smack in the middle of the biggest 
daisy chain of lesbianism you could ever imagine. From the teachers right on 
down to the freshman class. I tried it, but it didn't do a thing for me. I 
was a senior, you understand, a late arrival compared to girls who had been 
there two or three years. The older girls were mainly interested in seducing 
freshmen. The teachers had their pet, cute favorites. And remember, I was 
still a decidedly uncute fattie. So I guess you could say it was for lack of 
opportunity and choice that I didn't get into the lesbian thing in a big 
way. 

"That year in school was profoundly more important to me in another sense. 
It was then that I suddenly started shaping up physically. Believe it or 
not, I grew up-not out. I had been about five three when I arrived and 
weighed nearly one hundred and fifty pounds. I sprouted up over three inches 
that year and the baby fat rolled off me. I don't know what did it. The 
lousy food, all the rah-rah sports and exercise, I guess. I certainly didn't 
diet like I had done so futilely before. It irrationally occurred to me that 
all my previous sexual activity had stunted my growth. Later I found out 
that growth and weight distribution patterns just happen to some people that 
way. 

"Anyway, toward graduation time, I was quite a chick physically. My tits 
were magnificent with the rest of me trimmed down. My legs were long and 
slimmer, the fat ankles were gone, and my ass was compact and smooth, not 
dimpled and flabby. Along with my body, I was thrilled to realize that my 
face, without the round cheeks and double chins, was actually lovely and 
well structured. Wouldn't you know it, too, the lesbians who had all but 
shunned me during this physical transformation were suddenly panting after 
my new body. I told them to go fuck themselves-who needed them at this 
point? 

"Who needed my home town, either? I was smart enough to realize that just 
being beautiful wouldn't erase my reputation. If anything, it would just 
cause the large number of guys I'd known sexually to hound me all the more. 
I could understand their point of view. To have the town whore suck their 
cocks was one thing, but how much sweeter it would be if she were a 
well-stacked doll. Even today I have nothing against those guys. There had 
been nothing romantic about my kind of promiscuity. Enough was enough, 
however. With my new looks, I could pick and choose, fuck or not, just like 
other attractive girls whom I had always envied. 

"The summer immediately following my graduation, I went to Chicago and 
enrolled in business school. It was far enough away that my reputation 
wouldn't follow me. It was big enough that I could be the new me without any 
hangovers of guilt. Indiscriminate fucking and gang-banging was a thing of 
the past. I did the career-girl-starting-out-in-the-big-city routine. I had 
a couple of roommates, an apartment, and I dated selectively. Also I kept my 
knees crossed and my panties on-until I met Eric. 

"Eric is only important in my story for one reason-and that reason only 
concerns the night I decided to let him fuck me. Eric and I weren't in love; 
we were just a cozy couple. When I decided the time was right, I let him 
think he was seducing me. He did the classic set-up: quiet dinner in his 
apartment, his roommate shuffled out for the evening, low music, candles, 
lots of drinks. And I responded on cue: drank a bit too much so he wouldn't 
take all night to get around to it, and played the foreplay game on the 
couch-in the course of which I let him undress me. 

"He was panting like a stud puppy when he half carried me into his bedroom. 
He even asked the stupid question about whether I wanted the lights on or 
off. Hell, I didn't care if he lit fireworks. It had been a long time since 
I'd had a stiff cock inside me. My self-imposed celibacy had worn very thin. 
I had all I could do to keep from yelling at him, 'For Christ's sake, quit 
fooling around and fuck me!' 

"Finally, he was naked and we were on the bed. He did all the right things 
with his hands and mouth, and I liked him for that. Maybe at that moment I 
even loved him a little for it. There had been very few preliminaries in my 
previous sex life. Rarely had I gotten my tits sucked and my nipples teased. 
Even more rare had been the kisses that trailed down across my stomach and 
over my thighs and ended with a delicious nibbling on my clitoris. Eric did 
it all, tongue and fingers. 

"When he spread my legs and mounted me, his breath was heavy and ragged with 
anticipation. I sensed that he probably wouldn't last long before he came; 
which was alright, for once over the first hump, there would be other times 
when I could count on getting my own fulfillment. I was content to play the 
innocent victim of seduction. For that reason, I didn't fondle or caress his 
cock or help guide it in my cunt. I clung to his hips and ass as he reached 
between his legs, held his erection, and rubbed the warm head of it over the 
hot lips of my sex. I let him find the way. I can almost remember it going 
in, scraping a little against the hairs, with me moving ever so slightly so 
that the smooth bulb was tucked in the wetness of my cuntflesh. Then came 
the first inch. God, the heat I had wanted-for so long! Then his body coming 
down on mine as his cock grooved in deep and full! 

"At that moment, Eric stiffened perceptibly. Was I imagining things, or did 
his cock really wilt slightly? Had he come already? I wondered 
incredulously. No, no it was all right; he was plunging and humping, holding 
me tight, fucking me with full, fast strokes. He had given me a turn there, 
but it was all right. Or so I thought. 

"Afterwards, I sensed that something was wrong. What? I couldn't figure it 
out. He had lasted longer than I thought he would; his ejaculation had been 
potent enough; I'd had an immensely satisfying orgasm; and my body felt warm 
and fulfilled in its new role. But Eric was distant, and I felt that 
something had been lost rather than gained. He told me to nap, that he was 
going to the other room and have a drink, and I did fall asleep for I don't 
know how long. 

"I woke up to a door opening and voices. It was Eric's roommate returning. I 
was going to get up, but something kept me still. Then I heard them clearly. 
The roommate spotted my bra and panties on the couch and commented, 'I guess 
I don't have to ask if you scored.' Eric mumbled something, then the 
roommate asked, with a kind of leer in his voice, Well, buddy, how was she? 
Did you get yourself a virgin?' 

"I'll never forget what I heard next. Eric practically exploded, 'Virgin? 
Hell, she's got a cunt so big you could drive a truck into it and double 
park! I've fucked whores up on north Clark Street that were tighter than she 
is. God only knows how many cocks that girl's had in her, because I'm sure 
she has lost count ... or lost track of them while they were in there. 
Listen, Al, it's one thing not to hit bottom, but when you can't find the 
sides...! You'd never suspect from looking at her that she was so ... ah ... 
shall we say experienced? She must have got her experience by fucking the 
whole Congo army. And what the hell, Al, I'm no pigmy.' 

"I can't tell you how utterly humiliated I felt when I heard that. I can't 
tell you how crushed, how devastated I was. The new looks, the new shape, 
the beauty I thought I'd found-it was all superficial. Underneath, it didn't 
mean a damn thing. I was the town whore in a new dress. I was still a slut, 
only now I was a big-cunted slut. Can you beat that for retribution? I might 
as well have had a scarlet letter burned in my flesh. Naturally, I never saw 
Eric again or even spoke to him. All I could think about was how goddamn 
unfair it was. 

"It wasn't my fault that I had been a fat, ugly little kid who'd tried to 
fight unpopularity and loneliness. What was I supposed to do for the rest of 
my life? I was built, attractive, and I knew it. Should I just date guys and 
never let them touch me? And, more important, what would happen when I found 
a guy I really loved? A guy who wanted to marry me? I couldn't very well 
refuse him sex. But I stood the chance of his rejecting me like Eric had, 
because of the size of my cunt and what a big cunt represented. 

"The whole scene and all the alternatives played hell with my mind. 
According to what I'd heard, I couldn't even compete with a Chicago 
streetwalker. Imagine that, unqualified to be a whore. Oh, I know a lot of 
what I was thinking was crazy. Yet at the time, I was going crazy with 
guilts, fears, and an awful lot of self-loathing. I quit dating and stayed 
out of circulation. Why give anyone the opportunity to get lost in my big, 
gaping cunt? And you see, that's how I began thinking of my cunt: a huge 
slack cavern that had been excavated out of the middle of me. It was a 
shameful relic of old sins. 

"I went on for months like that. My roommates knew something traumatic had 
happened and, without prying too deeply, tried to get me to come out of my 
shell and date. Gradually, I did, although I couldn't have been much fun. I 
couldn't allow any involvement, any affection or emotion that might lead to 
a bedroom. I had to break off budding affairs with a couple of very nice 
guys because I couldn't bear their potential reproach if they determined 
through my big cunt that I wasn't the person I seemed to be. 

"You have to realize, of course, that there was a double misery involved. 
You see, I had never stopped loving sex. I wanted it; my body ached for it. 
Even in those years when I'd fucked half the countryside, I'd always 
physically enjoyed sex. That has never diminished, even during the years I 
was so afraid of ridicule because of the dimensions of my cunt. So, 
somewhere along the line, I took to masturbating. It was strictly a clitoral 
thing. I wouldn't put anything up my cunt. I guess I fantasized that if I 
didn't fuck myself with a finger or other objects, somehow I'd shrink. Other 
girls prayed for gentle lovers, I prayed for atrophy. 

"My frustrations grew worse. One night they reached a culmination with a 
fellow I'd been out with just once before. I'd had too much to drink, and 
let him get as far as baring my tits and sucking on them. It was maddening; 
it was driving me up the walls. Certainly I knew he wanted to go a lot 
further. I wanted it, too, but I wouldn't let it happen. In the heat of it, 
I told him I couldn't, I was having my period. When he accepted the lie, I 
felt sorry for him so I sucked his cock. 

"Just like that, I made up my mind that sexy me wasn't going to be a sexual 
zero. While I blew him, I sneaked my hand inside my panties and got my own 
charge by massaging my clitoris. I even swallowed his juices to show him 
what a good sport I was. That night I realized I could indulge in sex 
without opening myself to ridicule and castigation. 

"I started on a whole new trip. Naturally, I played the field loosely, never 
dating a guy more than two or three times. After all, I couldn't use the 
excuse of having my period for weeks in a row. Usually, I would put a guy 
off on the first date but keep him interested enough to come back for 
seconds. The second time around, we'd go all the way except for actual 
fucking. Gradually, I became more confident of myself. I had left business 
school and had a job in the statistical division of an insurance company. 

"I played my game of going halfway with sex for about a year. There were 
always plenty of parties going on the usual scene with large numbers of 
single working guys and girls in a big town. Looking back, I can say that I 
was moderately happy despite my frustration. I received a lot more 
invitations and propositions than I accepted. One guy even wanted to marry 
me after I had done my thing and gone down on him. I might have taken him up 
on it if he hadn't been such a jerk. He started me thinking, though, how 
good it would feel to get back in the saddle again and fuck. 

"I started wondering if I couldn't take a chance here and there. I thought I 
was strong enough to take a rejection or two. So, selectively, I went all 
the way with a couple of guys. I'll give them credit; they didn't blow their 
stacks as had my old acquaintance, Eric. They didn't make a big thing out of 
their disappointment in my cunt. No, they just never asked me for another 
date. That was a low blow, of course. When a guy latched onto an 
exceptionally good-looking girl who would fuck for him, usually he didn't 
drop her like a hot potato. On the other hand, I wasn't completely crushed 
like I had been the year before-I had enjoyed the sex, even if they hadn't. 
And since I'd discovered that all males weren't loud-mouthed pricks like 
Eric, I decided that for the sake of my sex life I could go on selectively 
fucking-at least until someone hurt me badly again. 

"It was through this hit and miss screwing scheme that I met Chet, who is 
now my husband. It seems funny now, but I thought at the time he would be 
the one fellow I could never make it with. I mean, he was a cocksman, a real 
hustler with the ladies. His hobby was, and still is, sex. We met at a party 
where we were both loose, and he picked me up immediately. I hate to use the 
old line that I was 'swept off my feet,' but that's literally what happened. 
Flat on my back, legs spread, and not caring a damn what he thought of my 
big cunt, we sucked and fucked until nearly dawn. He was a nut about 
positions. I felt like a contortionist by the time it was over. 

"God, that was a marvelous night! I had orgasms like I'd been dreaming 
about. He did everything to me except fuck me in the ass. Nevertheless, I 
never thought I'd see him again. It seemed too good to be true. When I awoke 
in his apartment, he was gone-but he'd left me a note telling me to use his 
shower, have coffee, go on home, and he would call me early in the evening. 

"That evening it was sex heaven all over again. I ended up staying the whole 
weekend with him. And not a word about the size of my cunt-was I dreaming? 
Instead, he lavished me with praise about my beauty and my body. He" told me 
over and over again how wildly uninhibited and wonderful I was as a sex 
partner. You would have thought he'd found a virgin princess. Me, I drank it 
all in. But a fearful part of me waited for the ax to fall. It never did. We 
became a steady twosome. We weren't so much in love with each other as we 
were with sex. 

"Then Chet became serious. He talked about marriage, but he had 
stipulations. He would not promise to be the faithful husband. He wanted me 
to be his wife, but I had to understand that he might seek out and indulge 
in sex elsewhere. And if I wanted to do the same, it was all right with him. 
Jealousy and recriminations wouldn't be allowed. 

"It was an odd way to start a marriage, considering all the usual vows of 
fidelity, but I was so crazy about Chet that it didn't matter. His cock was 
the most magnificent thing in the world to me. Not that it was exceptionally 
large, either-it was just that he knew how to use it. And many times, 
especially in the beginning, I wanted to ask him what he really thought 
about my cunt. I never did, though. If there were any objections, Chet would 
have been the first to voice them. 

"I understood soon enough one reason Chet wanted his sexual freedom. We 
worked for the same insurance company, but he was training to be a territory 
supervisor. Shortly after our marriage, he was sent from the Chicago home 
office to cover two Midwestern states. Though we made our home in Kansas 
City, Chet was away at branch offices two and three days out of every week. 
He took his sex whenever and wherever he could find it. When he returned 
home after a trip, he would tell me in juicy, exacting detail all that had 
happened. 

"Frankly, the stories about these strange women excited the hell out of me. 
I couldn't control myself sexually on the nights of his homecomings. If for 
any reason, he failed to score on a trip, I was disappointed. As for myself, 
I didn't stray, although he encouraged it. Chet, I figured, was all I 
needed. Why gamble on having my old hang-ups about my cunt come back at me? 

"Yet they did come back to me. Not because I found an occasional lover or 
two for company while Chet was away, but because Chet had discovered a 
sex-swapping group in Kansas City. We joined the group, and this is where 
anal intercourse came to be one of the biggest things in my sex life. 

"It happened so casually, I was stunned. When Chet first told me about the 
sex group, about the orgies, and about the exciting, attractive people we 
would meet intimately, together, I was thrilled. Minutes later, thinking of 
my cunt, I could have choked on my enthusiasm. I blurted out to Chet my 
long-held fear. To my surprise, he merely shrugged, 'Yeah, you're a little 
bigger down there than most girls, but some guys like that. It gives them 
room to operate. Anyway, if somebody gives you a tough time about it, you 
can always tell them to put it in your ass. That ought to be guaranteed 
tight enough for them.' 

"I was flabbergasted to hear him say it. I stammered back, 'But. . . but, I 
mean, you've never done that before ... fuck me in the ass.' 

"He replied easily, 'No, but I've tried it a couple of times with other 
girls. It's okay. I figured we'd get around to-it sooner or later. It's just 
that there was no big hurry and it's no big thing. For the time being, what 
we do now is plenty satisfying for me.' 

"That's what I mean about casual. He hadn't really given it any thought. 
Well, I started thinking about it-plenty! I knew how badly he wanted to be 
involved in the sex group, as did I, and I didn't want anything to spoil it 
for us. I could see the virtue of having a sexual alternative to offer 
anybody who might be disappointed in my cunt. That night I asked Chet to 
break me in. I urged him to fuck my ass. 

"I wouldn't say that I was exactly like the sacrificial lamb. I wanted it 
badly enough that I ignored the usual hesitations due to pain. Not that I 
thought it was going to kill me; I knew that anal intercourse was acceptable 
to many people, some even grooving on it. But I thought that, in my case, it 
would be rather far-fetched to find it as stimulating as the other forms of 
sex I had practiced for so long. Nevertheless, I was hoping I would find it 
at least somewhat enjoyable. I really needed to be able to offer a choice, 
front or back. 

"And thank God for Chet! He was so very kind and considerate. Occasionally 
during a very steamy sex session, he had found my anus with his tongue and 
licked and excited me there until he had me quivering with passion. That 
night, however, he made it a point to snuggle between my thighs, lift my 
legs high and wide, and anoint my ass-hole with tender kisses and probing 
licks. The flicking tip of his tongue rimmed me to a heat I had never known 
before in that spot. 

"In minutes I was calling for his cock, but he was more cautious. He brought 
a jar of vaseline to the bed, took a glob on his finger, and massaged the 
hot, tight hole. Then he poked his finger up inside, adding dabs of vaseline 
and moving deeper and deeper. He twisted his finger and probed smoothly-one 
knuckle, then the next. My sphincter stopped fighting him. The muscles were 
hot and relaxed. Then it was time. 

"Chet lubricated his beautiful cock and positioned me on my knees and 
elbows. Reaching underneath me, he teased my already engorged nipples. The 
head of his cock pushed between the crevice of my ass cheeks and hesitated 
there. 'You push,' he directed me. 'Push back as slow or as fast as you 
want. I'll hold my cock steady so it won't slip away.' I did as he said, 
straining backwards. It was so slippery there from all the vaseline that I 
could actually feel him aiming his erection into my ever-widening ass-hole. 

"To be truthful, I expected more pain. Yet it was more of a straining 
sensation than a sharp hurt. I dug my elbows and hands into the mattress and 
continued to slowly envelop the hard shaft of flesh that was now quivering 
for containment. Then I felt him deep inside me. Or at least it seemed deep. 
I was grunting at the marvelous hugeness that filled me. By God, I thought, 
there was nothing loose and gaping about this scene! Suddenly, I didn't want 
to go slowly anymore. It was good! The awareness hit me like a jolt. Yes, 
dammit, it was so very good! 'Fuck it, darling!' I gasped to him. 'Oh shit, 
fuck me!' 

"He responded with a thrilling drive that took my breath away. His strokes 
were smooth and sweet, and each stroke took him deeper and deeper into my 
bowels. Crazy, goddamn crazy, crazy things were happening to my entire body! 
I felt my cunt twitch in response to the ass-drilling, and I groped for my 
clit and squeezed it frantically. Then my darling had a full head of steam 
and was fucking me as deeply and as furiously as he had ever fucked my cunt. 
I screamed my joy: 'I'm coming! I'm coming in my ass!' 

"When the ecstasy finally wore off, I knew without a doubt that I was a 
changed woman. The prospect of sex-swapping held no fears for me. Deep 
inside, there was even a perverse secret hope that future sex partners might 
well be disappointed in my large cunt and so turn me over to find their 
pleasure. What a long, long way I can come! 

In the case of Marilyn D., the long road from adolescent sex to anal 
intercourse is marked by inescapable pathos. The ugly child syndrome is all 
too real for many people. Rare is the individual who does not know some 
degree of insecurity during their youth. It is not merely the unfortunate 
who suffer such early pains, i.e. the crippled, the disfigured, the 
impaired, and the grotesque. To a young person, a natural state of 
unattractiveness-braced teeth, acne, weight problems, thick corrective 
lenses, etc.-may mean a time of emotional and psychic upset. More than one 
personality has been hammered in this forge. 

As with our subject, the period of unattractiveness is often temporary, yet 
it can and does lead to actions, though understandable, that influence 
future behavior. Overt sexual behavior (promiscuity) is one of many 
resultant actions. Without sounding like a spokesman for male chauvinism, it 
is a plain and demonstrable fact that the great majority of promiscuous 
teenage girls are fighting to overcome a sense of inferiority. Our present 
subject is almost a classical example. She referred to herself in her 
narrative as a "town whore." She was not wrong, and where is the town or 
neighborhood that does not have at least one? 

Unfortunately, most girls whose childhood sexual experiences were similar to 
Marilyn's did not "bloom," as she put it, into exceptionally attractive 
women. And for the record, Marilyn can easily be considered beautiful. Such 
is reality. In the majority of cases, the so-called town whores marry early 
to ignorant or idealistic young men. For some, the marriages endure and are 
replete with procreation. For others, a sad circle of marital discord and 
divorce is embarked upon. 

Contrary to popular opinion, the "fallen" teenager, the one with the 
"reputation," does not quickly or readily leap into the life of a 
professional prostitute. In our society, that status appears to be reserved 
for the poor, the uneducated, and the opportunistic. Marilyn's reflections 
upon her comparison to a prostitute were significant. It must be pointed out 
that, in spite of her precocious promiscuity, she never entertained the idea 
of prostitution. Her dream and goal was to bury the past and to be accepted 
into the mainstream of society, including its current sexual ethics. In 
today's vernacular, she did not cop out. 

She did, however, rationalize her fear, which is all too human. Pertinent to 
this discussion is the direction her rationalization took. In the course of 
her entire indulgent sexual experience, she had never entertained nor 
allowed anal intercourse. Indeed, she has stated that her numerous sexual 
partners seemed not to entertain the idea either. And Marilyn had no fear of 
sex per se. Excluding, anal intercourse and blatant perversion, she had 
indulged in all forms of sexual activity, including lesbian experimentation, 
by the time she finally sought refuge in normality in a large city. 

To Marilyn, analism was a definitive choice. How unique is Marilyn as an 
anal erotic? Given the background of her early promiscuity and the reasons 
for it, adding to that the tortured feelings about the size of her vagina 
and the potential condemnation she would receive for it, does it seem 
inevitable that she should accept analism as such a convenient alternative? 
In this instance, her alternative can be taken at face value, for in spite 
of her background, she does not suffer from any pronounced sexual 
aberration. She retains, and understandably so, a mild sexual neurosis, as 
most people do. 

Marilyn is exceptional only in the sense that her physical disparity (the 
large vagina) was the result of early overt sexual behavior. In another case 
history in this volume, a male with an abnormally large penis was 
profoundly, psychosexually affected because of his physical disparity. In 
his case, however, he was born with a sexual organ of extra large dimension. 
Yet it resulted in a sexual aberration: strong anal sadism. Marilyn's 
willingness toward analism, however, is more Of an attempt to overcome her 
neurosis rather than to let it grow cancerously into perversion. 

In her own words, she gives us some of the details of her adjustment: 

"With Chet's loving help in preparing my ass-hole, I wasn't nearly as 
nervous as I might have been when we joined the group of swingers. The 
joining part of it, the initiation I guess you'd call it, was tailor made 
for me, too. Since all the couples in the group were prominent people, there 
was a good deal of caution when they brought in new members. Before we met 
the whole crowd and were allowed to participate in the larger swap parties, 
we had to be evaluated by two couples on succeeding weekends. 

"The first husband I paired off with was named John, and he was easy. To get 
acquainted, my Chet and his wife Delia were to use separate bedrooms from 
John and me. It was a simple matter to sort of cutely confess to him that I 
had a special passion and that I hoped he would indulge me. When I told him 
that I loved to be fucked in the ass, he was thrilled. I was even honest 
with him, to a point, in my explanation. I told him that I had had a 
difficult pregnancy and stillbirth when I was younger and that my cunt had 
been inadvertently stretched. I didn't mention any of my fears about a man 
thinking I was too loose. I turned it around and told him that I was the one 
who couldn't feel as much cock as I used to. That's why I preferred it in 
the ass. 

"We were naked and caressing each other while I was telling him all that, 
and far from dampening his spirits, it seemed to inflame him. He turned out 
to be a pretty good man with his tongue, too. He knew that no matter what 
the size of my cunt, a good mouth job on the clit was always effective. He 
steamed me up to the point where I was ready for anything. I moved around on 
the bed and under him so I could get my lips on his cock in a sixty-nine 
position; but he was impatient to get on with what I offered him in the 
beginning. And, damn, so was I. 

"He rolled me over and crouched behind me, kneading the flesh of my ass, 
tickling and kissing my anus. He asked me if I needed a lubricant. No, I 
told him, spittle would do it. It was something Chet and I had worked 
out-after the first few times, just natural moisture was good enough. I 
suppose that in John's eyes it made my story all the more believable. There 
was no reason for him to know that I had only been ass-fucking for a week 
and a half in anticipation of this very meeting. 

"As Chet had shown me, I reached back under my legs and fondled his balls. I 
squeezed the heavy testicles firmly but gently, then ran my fingernails 
lightly up the tender underside of his fine, hard cock. He dabbed spit into 
my puckered, waiting ass-hole, applying more to his circumcised shaft. Then 
I found out he had a bit of a quirk also. He wanted me to describe how it 
felt going in and what I was feeling as he shoved it home. It excited him to 
hear me talk dirty. So, as he poised the hardness against the small entrance 
and started shoving that sweet meat in ever so tightly, I did my best to 
accommodate him both anally and verbally. 

"'Oh, fuck!' I hissed at him. 'It's so great, your big beautiful cock! My 
ass-hole's on fire ... coming apart! There, baby, you're in! I can feel you 
in my guts. Fuck it! Fuck my ass-hole with your beautiful hard cock!' 

"I kept up the dialogue as he filled every inch of my steaming ass-hole. It 
was good, just as Chet had promised. I could hear John grunting behind me 
and I could feel his sweat on my own warm skin. He was in a fucking frenzy 
up my rectum. No man can fake that kind of rutting pleasure. I was pleasing 
him beyond my wildest dreams. And the pleasure I was receiving for myself 
seemed to have no end. I worked my clit, bringing down an almost immediate 
'flashing orgasm. When he came, squirting a fantastic stream of molten come 
deep in me, I had to bite my tongue to keep from cursing my disappointment. 
But John surprised me. Un-like most men, he didn't wilt as soon as he'd shot 
his load. His come added a wild slickness to my ass-hole and he was able to 
finish with a furious flurry of more hard, marvelous fucking. 

"The next step in our initiation met with the same success. Before we even 
joined with the rest of the group, the word was out: Marilyn truly was a 
great piece of ass. The funny thing was that the story of my loose cunt was 
totally accepted by everyone. Naturally, in the three years we've been 
swapping, I've been fucked in the cunt many times, too. None of the men have 
shown any great disappointment. I think it's because my story to John 
psychologically prepared them. Of course, the real focus is always on my 
ass. And it's through anal intercourse that I really come to reach my 
greatest joys and orgasms. In fact, our group is making a movie now for our 
own personal enjoyment. And guess who's the female star of the ass-fucking 
scenes?" 

For some individuals like our subject, analism may be a sexual approach that 
offers positive psychic and physical satisfaction without becoming an 
unmanageable perversity. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

The Anal Homosexual 

"Call it a fixation or compulsion, whatever you want, but I knew I had to 
have Lauri's ass. The feeling began building to a head just a few weeks 
after we were married. In the first place, being married was something I had 
strong doubts about. Maybe it was a test for me. It helped that Lauri loved 
me and was willing to go along with the kind of life I'd cut out for myself. 
And, as chicks go, I dug her, too. We made a good team. The only thing wrong 
was the sex. Yeah, I wanted to be a stud, a straight normal stud-Christ, I 
wanted it in the worst way ever-but I just couldn't get with it the way she 
wanted and as often as she wanted. I mean, I don't have anything against 
girls or cunts, but I just couldn't hack fucking a cunt night after night. 

"To say that my head is messed up over my sexual identity is to put it 
mildly. It was that way when I married Lauri, it's that way now. But back 
then I hadn't thought it out very well. My guts literally turned to jelly 
anytime anyone mentioned the word homosexual. Or any of the other words: 
faggot, queer, fairy, queen, and so on. All I could think was, do they know? 
Is there something about me? Did the subject just pop up, or is somebody 
trying to get a rise out of me? Whenever that would happen, I'd try and 
prove myself as straight as an arrow. 

"There had always been girls available-then it became just Lauri. As soon as 
I was able to get her alone, I'd try and fuck her brains out. But, like, 
according to the book. You know, position number one, the classic in the 
saddle shot, man above, woman below. What could be straighter than that? 
Even so, I always doubted the performance. I wondered if I was only kidding 
myself. Yeah, sure, Lauri seemed to love it-she'd go ape shit. I mean, she's 
a real screamer and grabber. And, as I said, we got married. Straight middle 
class shot, although we were a long way from moving to the suburbs. 

"Then I got this thing about her ass. There it was where I could see it, 
touch it, feel it, kiss it-but I hadn't tried to fuck it. I thought, if I 
can only talk her into it, it wouldn't blow the lie that I'm living. She'll 
never have to know that by spreading the cheeks of her butt for me, she'll 
be keeping me from running out and making it with some guy. I couldn't tell 
her that. At the same time, I was worried shitless that she'd think I was a 
frustrated faggot just for asking. I didn't know, if she hit me with that, 
whether or not I could laugh it off. Still, I was desperate. My whole world 
was closing in on me. I liked living straight, even if it was a lie. I'd 
seen the so-called gay world, and believe me it's a bad trip. Out and out 
faggot society has to be about the saddest, loneliest, most desperate shot 
there is. I guess I was more afraid of that than living a lie. 

"So I kind of sneaked up on Lauri's ass. I didn't get much of a kick out of 
eating cunt, but I always did a little licking just for her benefit. She 
seemed to expect it. And she always reciprocated with a good round of cock 
sucking, which I really did dig. Anyway, it wasn't much effort to let my 
tongue go a little further. I'd let it slip to her ass-hole and just 
slightly tickle her. I wanted to see if I'd get any reaction. The first time 
I teased her ass like that, she didn't say anything, but she didn't say no. 
The next night I got a little bolder, stayed there longer, and rimmed her. I 
took the tip of my tongue, forced it into the tight hole, and jabbed. "That 
did make a difference. She squirmed and moaned. I was satisfied that she not 
only had no objections but actually liked it. On the third try, I really 
went at it with a passion and she couldn't have had any doubts that it was 
something I was really hot after. For close to a week, I started getting her 
ready for my anal tongue job by using a finger in her ass-hole while I was 
eating her cunt. Most of the time, she was simultaneously sucking me off so 
our sessions got pretty hot and sweaty. Then, at the peak of our heat one 
night, I put the question to her. I told her where I wanted to fuck her. 

"All the preparation had been worth it. She didn't hesitate in saying okay, 
just asked me not to hurt her. Hurt her? The very last thing I wanted to do 
was blow what I'd set up. I was as tender with her as I knew how. I kissed 
her and stroked her until she was aching for me to get on with it. Then I 
positioned her on her knees on the floor beside the bed with the upper part 
of her body leaning on the mattress. I had a jar of vaseline already planted 
in the bedside stand and was able to get it out and opened without leaving 
her. I played with her clit to keep her furnace stoked while I lubed us up. 
Then I didn't give her any time to hesitate or change her mind. 

"There was a considerable difference between the size of that tiny brown 
hole and the circumference of my cock. But I, of all people, knew that 
eventually it would fit. I knew, too, from out of my past that the best way 
to pork it to her was to get inside the rubbery ring as quick as possible. 
If you want to make an analogy; you can think of it as pulling off a band 
aid. If you do it slow and easy, it pulls the flesh and hurts like hell. If 
you snap off the adhesive with the quick stroke, it stings for just an 
instant, then it's okay. 

"So I snapped the head of my cock into her fast. The cry caught in her 
throat and she grabbed for the bed. I grabbed her hips so she wouldn't get 
away. Then she found her voice and gasped, 'No, don't! Christ, I thought you 
weren't going to...' Then she realized that the pain was all over. The full, 
strange, strained sensation that remained was an erotic ache, not a hurt. 
And goddam it, I mean, did it ever feel great at my end of the stick! 

"Don't ever let anyone tell you that an ass-hole isn't the greatest route in 
the world. Man or woman, it makes no difference. Of course, maybe that's why 
I was able to so thoroughly enjoy Lauri's ass. Once I was inside, it could 
have belonged to either a man or woman. To be honest, I'll have to say that 
I was leaning toward the masculine. My cock may have been up my wife's 
ass-hole-but my mind was someplace else. 

"I was thinking of a young man named Frank, a soft, thin young man with 
blonde hair that hung in golden curls over his sensitive, handsome face. But 
in my fantasy, I couldn't see his face. I could only see his taut, flat ass 
split by my bursting cock. Even the sexual grunting sounds that Lauri made 
sounded to me like 

Frank urging me deeper and deeper into his ass. 

"And so not to break the reverie, I didn't reach around Lauri's thighs and 
titillate her clitoris. You see, I would have expected to find a thick, hard 
cock to hold and jerk instead. Without touching any part of Lauri that would 
make me aware she was a girl, I could and did play the homosexual fantasy 
right from the beginning penetration to the moment when I shot my hot load 
up her sweet, tight ass-hole. 

"All right, if I was copping out on reality, just let me make it clear that 
I treated Lauri as best I could in every other way. I didn't resent her for 
being a girl instead of a guy. Except for the fantasies I had when I was 
fucking her ass, she was a wife to me in every sense of the word. We were a 
team, and for that I liked her. I mean, she could have easily been an 
establishment chick, but she opted for my life-style instead. 

"Being an artisan isn't an easy bag, and I'm never going to get rich at it. 
A lot of people put us down by calling us hippies. Yeah, well, maybe it's 
the straight squares who don't know where it's at. When I was breaking Lauri 
into the ass-fucking thing, I looked a little wilder than I do now, but a 
good part of it was protective coloration. My hair was long, really long, 
and the beard wasn't trimmed at all. I just let it all hang out. Being a 
jewelry maker, working in gold and silver like I do, it wasn't exactly bad 
business to look weird and original. People expect that nowadays from 
artists, artisans, and craftsmen. If someone comes to my little shop and 
commissions me to do a fine gold piece, I like to reinforce the idea that 
everything about it is original. It's good box office. 

"At the bottom of it all, though, I really went bohemian in appearance so I 
wouldn't look anything like a faggot interior decorator. Even now, with the 
hair cut and the beard trimmed down, I feel that I'm a cut apart from those 
sweet boys, sweet boys who do interesting, interesting things and run little 
shops all over the city. But, hell, like the other mask, there's a reason 
for my being cleaned up like I am. It has to do with the swinging sex scene 
that I'm into very heavy. Before we get into that, though, I want to rap 
some about my homosexuality and set the record straight. 

"I was going to be an artist, you know. Not just a gold and silver smithie. 
I was going to be a painter. After I found out I wasn't good enough to hack 
that, I was going to be a sculptor. After I found out I'd be nothing but a 
lousy sculptor, I found a niche for myself in design work. I knew I was 
artistic, and especially good at the small stuff, like jewelry design, 
things I could personally shape with my fingers. like, I'm damn good at what 
I do, no apologies there. Still, it was a helluva a let down when I was 
young and I realized I'd never make it as another Picasso or be able to work 
with grand, out-sized art. It tore me up inside and made me something of a 
loner. I suppose that's what started the homosexual thing. 

"I was going to a fine arts academy in San Francisco, sort of a high school 
and art school combined. Because I lived across the bay in Oakland, I spent 
a lot of time on my own in San Francisco. My folks didn't seem to give a 
damn. You know, I was the exceptional gifted child who could do no wrong. 
Anyway, I was on the loose a lot, a sort of straight looking hippie a few 
years before the Haight-Ashbury thing. Now I don't know whether you know it 
or not, but San Francisco is crawling with faggots. A kid like me, pink 
cheeked, sixteen, a loner with few friends and hardly any experience with 
females-well, I was ripe for a gay pickup. 

"The first guy was about thirty. He saw me sketching one day in Golden Gate 
Park. He seemed to be pretty knowledgeable about art, and we talked. Then he 
told me he collected the works of Bay Area artists and asked if Pd like to 
see his apartment. Yeah, I know, come on up and see my etchings. But it 
worked. And he did have the paintings. He was also pretty shrewd. He did 
nothing but flatter me on my 'obvious artistic sensitivity.' I lapped it up 
in spite of the fact that Pd figured out the guy was gay. 

"I mean, he came on very sweet once we were inside his apartment. It was 
cocktail hour, too-you know, like it was the most natural thing in the world 
to start feeding a sixteen-year-old kid booze. I can't blame the sex on the 
liquor, though. I was high, but I knew what he was doing when he put his arm 
around me and talked about sex. 

"He was very delicate. Fellatio, he called it. Did I like to have girls do 
it to me? Shit, I'd only fucked one girl in my life, let alone have one go 
down on me. Did I know there was really no difference between a male doing 
it or a girl? He would simply love to take care of such a nice young boy as 
me. Somewhere along the line I said, why not? I already had half a hard-on 
from talking about it. When he saw that, he couldn't keep his hands out of 
my crotch. A couple-of minutes later, we were both naked on his couch. 

"He tried to kiss me on the mouth and use his tongue, but I wasn't ready for 
that. I had bought his line about it not making any difference whether he or 
a girl sucked my cock, but I hadn't bought anything else. He didn't try 
anything else, either, unless you include the tongue bath he gave my crotch, 
balls and cock before he actually put my tool in his mouth and sucked. 

"I think what amazed me most was how great it felt, those wet lips squeezing 
and the tongue working like mad. It's possible I went through the kind of 
transference then that I was to go through years later with Lauri, thinking 
her ass was a man's ass. I do know that it didn't seem particularly evil to 
me. It was more the enjoyment of forbidden fruit than anything sick or 
filthy. And it didn't hurt his seduction scene any that I had already 
naively romanticized artists like myself as being individuals beyond the 
mere mortal sanctions of society. If what I was doing was immoral, it was 
the kind of immorality that an artist could laugh at. 

"On a more earthly level, the guy could really suck a cock. Not that I had 
any basis for comparison; I just knew how wild his pumping mouth felt. In 
those days, I was jerking off a couple of times a week, and I can tell you I 
never experienced anything like the sensation I felt when I let my load 
explode in that fellow's mouth. And there was no comparison to the one fuck 
I'd had. It was like suddenly a neon sign went on that read: Hey, man, sex 
is where it's at! Since I didn't know much about any other kind, where it 
was at with me was with cocksucking. 

"Naturally, this guy had me pegged as real cherry. He didn't try anything 
else that first night, nor did he try to get me to do anything. He merely 
invited me back, and I went. For three or four times, it was the same 
routine, but I was really beginning to dig it. I discovered, for instance, 
what things he did with his mouth and tongue that gave me the biggest 
thrill. I liked him all the way down on me, sucking on the whole cock, 
rather than just working the knob. But up at the knob, I liked the way he 
squeezed his lips just behind it. I liked the way he pushed his tongue hard 
on the underside of the shaft where the sensitive veins are. Mostly, I liked 
a lot of suction and slurping and licking. 

"By this time, I was feeling him. Not his cock, but his body. We had 
graduated from the couch to his bed prior to his sucking me off, where we'd 
squeeze and hug each other. I still wouldn't allow the French kiss routine, 
but I dug our bodies pressed together so that our erections were squeezed 
between us and rubbing one another. I knew it was inevitable that he'd want 
me more into the act. He brought it up by asking me to jerk him off. 

"I say he asked me; actually he suckered me into it. I was stretched out on 
my back with my legs spread, my head on a pillow so I could watch his 
action. He was crouched between my legs, giving me a really powerful 
sucking. I was so hot that I was bouncing my ass all over the bed. I thought 
I could feel my balls aching and swelling, and I knew I was damn close to a 
great come. Suddenly, he pulls his mouth off and leaves my cock just 
standing there, twitching. That's when he told me what he wanted. Hell, I 
was squirming because I wanted to shoot off so badly. I said yes just to get 
it on, and he moved around to the side where I could reach his cock. 

"I don't know exactly what I thought when I touched his hard meat and 
manipulated it, trying to use the same finger stroking and pulling that he 
had used on me. I do know that I wasn't repulsed. It felt strange at first 
but not particularly unnatural. I guess that subconsciously I figured it was 
only fair. I knew how great it felt when I came, so I had to assume that he 
felt the same way getting his load off. But I just used my hand, not my 
mouth. 

"He took it easy on my cock while I jerked. 

His lips were slack and he was barely using suction. It didn't take a genius 
to figure out the game. The harder and faster I masturbated him, the closer 
he'd bring me to ejaculation. Again, fair enough. I went at him furiously, 
and in minutes he had me back at my peak. He surprised me by coming first. I 
felt his cock spasm under my fingers, and I was staring right at the end of 
it as the first spurt flew out, followed by gushing gobs. 

"The sight of his eruption was my own trigger. I didn't last another five 
seconds. And he really went wild when he caught my load. By comparison, the 
other times had been very controlled. like yeah, he'd swallow the wad, suck 
it all up very nicely, and clean my whole cock with his mouth. But this 
time, he gobbled and gulped like it was the last drop of come in the world. 
He pumped, slurped, and sucked with such frenzy that I thought he'd make me 
piss in his mouth. By the time he was through, I was getting hard again. So 
it was obvious what turned him on. Now we sort of came to an unspoken 
pact-if I took care of him, he'd make sure that I got the headiest sex he 
could offer. 

"At this point, my introduction to homosexuality took an odd twist. You see, 
my friend with the art collection wasn't the first male whose cock I sucked 
nor was his the one to bring me out into analism. But in a way he was 
responsible for it all. I mean, if I had stopped seeing the guy, I don't 
think anything more would have happened. As it was, I was spending a lot of 
evenings at his apartment after art school. My parents were raising hell 
about how late I was getting back to Oakland. Of course, I lied to them and 
told them I had a girl friend, but I was still forced to cool it for a 
couple of weeks. I told my gay friend that I'd set up a deal to spend the 
whole weekend with him. 

"Remember, all I'd ever done was jerk him off. I don't know if I had any 
intention of going beyond that point. But my friend had a surprise waiting 
for me that weekend. He was taking me to a gay party. He wanted to show off 
his latest acquisition to some of his faggot acquaintances. I said okay 
because I was curious; it would be my first inside look at the homosexual 
scene. 

"Christ, it turned out to be an exaggeration of everything I'd ever heard 
about it. Those guys camped and swished like it was the powder room of the 
Mark Hopkins. There were about forty males crowded into a small two-story 
townhouse. There were a few as young as I, and a few that must have been in 
their forties, the rest somewhere in between with the accent on 
youthfulness. I didn't know what the word trade' meant at the time, but I 
had a pretty good idea what a trick' was. It seems I was both. I didn't know 
whether to be insulted or complimented. Since everyone there either admired 
my young body and obvious innocence or eyed my friend with jealousy, it 
wasn't long before I relaxed. I did stay loose on the booze, though. I 
didn't want anything to impair the bizarre education I was getting. 

"As the evening progressed, I noticed that the incidents of kissing, hugging 
and ass-grabbing were more frequent. I was afraid to ask, but I wondered if 
the thing would disintegrate into a full scale orgy. I don't know what the 
hell I would have done if that had happened. I'd heard of things like circle 
jerks and daisy chains, and I couldn't quite put myself into the picture. My 
worries were eased as my friend and I circulated. I overheard dates and 
other meetings being made. The party was winding down. It was shortly after 
I'd made that observation that I met Frank. 

"I mentioned Frank earlier, but I have to emphasize again how he struck me. 
I mean, he was the most beautiful goddamn "boy' that you can imagine. He was 
like a slim, blonde Adonis. And he knew it-just like an attractive woman 
knows how she looks. Frank played it for all it was worth. When he came over 
to me, he used his eyes to hold me transfixed and he said all the right 
things. For the first time, my friend was on the jealous defensive. He tried 
to get me away from Frank, and he succeeded only by being rude. I could see 
that he was seething inside, and it gave me a kick to realize I was the 
cause of all this sexual emotion. 

"Then my friend sank his own ship. He had been drinking steadily ever since 
we had arrived, but he hadn't appeared to be more than socially high. After 
the incident with Frank, though, he belted down drinks one after the other. 
They hit him like a ton of bricks. One minute he seemed okay, and in the 
next he was reeling drunkenly and trying to hug me to him, Then he 
unceremoniously fell into a chair and passed out. I made a move to wake him 
up, but there was a hand on my arm. It was Frank. 

"Frank told me to let him sleep it off, because if I woke him too soon, he'd 
get sick and puke. I guess I mumbled that I had to wake him up because I was 
staying with him and there was no place else to go. Yeah, then came Frank's 
charming smile. I didn't have a worry in the world, he whispered to me as he 
took me away from the party. 

"Thousands of times, I've tried to figure out what happened to me 
psychologically that night when Frank took me to his apartment. As soon as 
we were inside the door, he was holding me and kissing me. I didn't try to 
close my mouth or turn my head. Suddenly his tongue was probing between my 
lips, and I licked at it and offered mine in return. Our cocks were hard 
bulges between us. There weren't any preliminaries like I'd had with my 
other friend. No conversation, no drinks-rhell, he didn't even bother to 
turn on the lights. 

"While we still pressed close to each other, he was tugging at my clothes. 
Then we were naked in a pile of garments, his hot hands on my cock. And soon 
I was reciprocating. His organ was slightly thicker and longer than mine, 
but he was older, too. Actually, he was twenty-four and looked eighteen or 
nineteen. I wasn't the one making the cock comparisons, though, for as he 
pulled on my hard meat with very talented fingers, he whispered how 
beautiful my prick was, how sweet it must taste, and how badly he wanted it 
in his mouth. I didn't have to answer him. 

"Deftly, he pushed aside a coffee table and sprung a bed out of a 
convertible sofa. In a single heated move, we were on the bed, I on my back, 
my eyes closed, waiting for the warm, wet ring of his lips to encircle my 
cock-like that was the way it always happened with my other friend. But 
Frank didn't play the same game. Hell, he had no way of knowing how cherry I 
was. He just assumed I knew the score and went the whole route. 

"Soon he was crouching over me and taking my cock into his mouth, but he 
wasn't between my legs, no way! When I opened my eyes, I looked straight up 
to see his furry balls and big rock-like cock only a few inches from my 
face. He had taken me for granted and swung immediately into the sixty-nine 
position. I was in a bit of a panic. I didn't know what to do. If he lowered 
his ass six inches, I'd have his basket in my face. I thought: Go on, jerk 
him off, he's waiting for you to do something! 

"I reached up and circled my fingers around the base of the rigid stem. You 
could say that the next few seconds were the fateful ones. Why I did it, I 
don't know. I just know that instead of masturbating him, as had been my 
first intention, I pulled his cock slightly so that it stuck straight down, 
then lifted my head and took it in my mouth. 

"You see, I still don't know if cocksuckers are made or born. I don't know 
what made me do it. I don't know if it was the proximity, because he 
expected me to, or if I really wanted to. All I know is that once I started, 
I didn't spit it out. I was amazed at how velvety smooth he was. I was 
surprised at the heat of the thing and pleased that there was no unpleasant 
taste. There was nothing more to it than sucking a thumb. And I made up my 
mind that if I was going to do it, I was going to do it right. 

"I emulated as best I could all the motions of Frank's mouth. Being 
underneath limited the actions of my head, but I don't think I did too 
badly. In fact, it allowed him to fuck into my mouth to the depth that gave 
him the most pleasure. It was funny, too, that I became so preoccupied with 
sucking him competently that I lost track of what was happening to my own 
cock. In fact, I didn't pay attention to the whole picture until my balls 
started to boil. 

"Instantly, I was aware that I was on the verge of coming. I was also 
instantly aware that he'd be coming, too. I was torn with indecision. I 
could tear my mouth away before his juices spurted into my throat and ruin 
all that had been good about it right there-or I could take his come and 
swallow it. Maybe I was more afraid of gagging and choking than of not 
wanting it. I don't know. 

"Call it hot sexual perversity, but I kept on sucking. Throughout my own 
ejaculation, I sucked like a fish. He was only a moment behind me. The thick 
fluid that poured into my mouth tasted like strange, salty gruel-but I 
didn't get sick or spit it up. I mean, it wasn't that bad. It was like 
taking strange medicine. You don't exactly like it, but you know it's not 
going to kill you. 

"I guess what I had done only convinced Frank all the more that I was on 
familiar ground with all the homosexual acts. Anyway, we were lying on the 
sofa bed, sensually touching each other's bodies and getting hard-ons all 
over again, when he told me that he didn't want to waste a bit of my 
erection. 'Fuck me in the ass,' he said. 'I'll get the cream.' 

"I knew what he was saying, but it stunned me nonetheless. If I had 
considered cocksucking to be a normal sex act between two males, I naively 
thought ass-fucking to be decidedly abnormal. But you have to remember that 
Frank was lavish, almost adoring, in his praise of my body and my boyish 
beauty. Furthermore, he was treating me as an equal, not a dumb kid to be 
manipulated. And, of course, I was to be fucking his ass. What harm could 
that do? Maybe it was, as I had heard a kid say once, the next best thing to 
a cunt. So when he came back with the tube of creamy ointment, I decided to 
go ahead with it. 

"First, he efficiently buttered my cock and his ass-hole, then he rolled 
over for me. As I knelt behind his up-thrust ass, I braced myself and went 
forward. I had no idea what to expect. I couldn't even remember what the 
single cunt I'd been in had felt like. I couldn't remember anything about 
the feel, the tightness, or whether I'd had trouble getting in. Anyway, I 
pushed my cock between Frank's buttocks and easily found his hole. Then, as 
I started to push in, he wiggled his ass a little to make it fit better. 
Suddenly, surprisingly, I was inside. I must have paused at that point, not 
quite knowing what to do next, because he had to yell at me, 'Come on, 
sweetie, don't tease me like that ... fuck me!' 

"Out of sight! To me, his ass-hole was a cunt. The pressure and the 
tightness were beautiful, and his hole was as slick as a greased pig. I 
whaled away without paying any attention to finesse. I didn't give a damn or 
know a thing about rhythm and pacing and titillating stroking, I just fucked 
like a mechanical rabbit, while at the same time he took my hand and placed 
it on his cock so I could jerk him off. Feeling my fingers wrapped around 
that growing hardness brought me back to the reality that it truly was a 
male ass-hole I was fucking. But it didn't diminish my enthusiasm or take 
away from the pleasure. I plowed that dark furrow furiously until I fell 
over in exhaustion after a climax much more powerful than I'd had at the 
first of the evening. 

"Then it came my turn to offer up my ass. Frank just assumed that I'd be 
more than willing to give him the same pleasure. Hell, I can understand how 
he felt, but that was where I had to admit to less homosexual experience 
than he'd given me credit for. I didn't cop out on everything. You know, I 
just said that ass-fucking was something that had never happened before. 

"He was understanding, but he was insistent. And all the time he kept 
feeling me up and telling me how great I was. Aside from what he was saying 
to me and what he was doing to my body, the one thing he really had going 
Jfor him was that I had no idea that anal intercourse might hurt. I mean, 
when I had fucked him, my cock had gone up his ass almost as easily as it 
had gone into his mouth. Yeah, it was tight and I had to push a little, but 
no one could have guessed it caused any strain. At the time, I didn't pause 
to consider that he'd had hard cocks up his ass for so long that to him it 
was as simple as putting one in his mouth. 

"Anyway, he talked me into it. He went through the same lubricating scene, 
got me in the proper position, and kept urging me to relax! What he didn't 
know was that my ass-hole was as wound up as a rubber band. I suppose that's 
why I felt the pain like I did. Shit, man, when I caught that first inch of 
penetration, I screamed bloody murder! Frank had to stop right there and 
pacify me or I would have jumped up and run out. He kept telling me that it 
got better as it went along-that it would soon feel good. So I let him 
continue and managed to suffer through it. 

"He was only partially right. After a while it felt better, but not good. 
You know something? It never has felt really great. I mean, sure, nowadays I 
can take a cock in my ass without any sweat. There's some pleasure involved, 
but it doesn't drive me out of my mind. I'll let it happen and sometimes, if 
necessary, I'll even encourage it. It can't compare with sucking a cock, 
though. And in no way is it comparable to having my cock up another man's 
ass. 

"Of course, as I told you earlier, I'm a married man and supposedly 
straight. What happened when I was a kid, I tried to leave behind in San 
Francisco. Sure, I knew I was a homosexual. I mean, I went steady with Frank 
for almost a year-what else could I be? If that wasn't enough, I hustled my 
body in the gay scene there for another year after that, until I got out of 
art school. It boils down to this: I dug the sex; if things had been 
different, maybe I'd be a faggot right now, living and balling without any 
pretenses in some gay part of town. 

"What I didn't like was the life of the homosexual. Most of them, with all 
their furtiveness and sneaking around, made it a helluva lot more dirty than 
it was or is. That got to me. I didn't want to be put down and stamped on by 
the straight world. I went to college at San Jose and, aside from an 
occasional weekend when I'd run up the Bay and pull up my skirts, I played 
it straight. In college, I discovered I could get along with broads, even 
attract them. 

"That's why I came down to L.A. after I dropped out. That's why I pulled the 
Bohemian-hippie scene, including the camouflage, when I opened up my first 
goldsmith shop. I mean, a few years ago, it was inconceivable to think of a 
guy with a full bushy beard and wild hair down to his shoulders as being 
anything but straight. Weird maybe, crazy-but not a faggot. 

"Yeah, but as Dylan says, "The times they are a-changing.' With a lot of 
these kids nowadays, the hair doesn't mean a thing. I've seen some queens 
around town that look like they've just stepped out of an acid rock album 
cover. Maybe that's all wrapped up in the way I appear now. There's no 
better protective coloration than being a married man. Yet even that doesn't 
work. My mind keeps getting bent out of shape by old scenes. Sometimes I 
think the smartest thing I could have done was leave my wife and come out in 
the open-get the queen out of the closet. 

"But we don't all do the smartest things. I happen to like the kind of 
kooky, semi-straight life that I lead. That's why group sex-swapping was 
such a goddamn blessing to me. I think I would have fallen apart without it. 
In a way, it's like having the best of two possible worlds. How else can a 
guy suck a cock one minute, fuck somebody else's wife in the ass the next, 
get corn-holed for a nightcap, and wake up the next morning feeling 
perfectly normal?" 

Following Kinsey's oft-quoted revelations of 1948 that a hitherto 
unsuspectedly large percentage of American males experienced at least one 
homosexual contact in their lives, popular sexologists rushed forth and used 
this statistic to explain all manner of disturbed patterns of sexual 
behavior ranging from impotency to psychopathic lust murder. In the 
following decade, the sexual-psychological investigators advanced the theory 
that all individuals are to a degree latent homosexuals. The die was cast. 
Active homosexuality was second in ubiquitousness only to latent 
homosexuality-which was universal. No one escaped. It was the psychiatric 
equivalent to original sin. 

Recently, particularly in the last three years, a certain enlightenment has 
come about consistent with the wide dissemination of sexual material, 
analysis, and investigations. An educated public is a tough one upon which 
to pile further old sex myths. One of the myths we were glad to see dissolve 
was the one holding that practically all sexual aberrations could be traced 
to homosexuality, latent or active, the guilt therefore inducing, behind it 
all, the inevitable Oedipus or Electra complex, courtesy of Doctor Freud. 

We have been made aware of the vast landscape of our sexual psyche. Abnormal 
sexual behavior rarely has a solitary root. Moreover, we have discovered 
that abnormal sexuality is highly subjective. In fact, much may depend upon 
one's acceptance or rejection of a socially imposed moral or traditional 
code. Such understanding enables us to avoid the pitfalls of the sexual 
behavior myths-specifically, in this discussion, the original sin of 
homosexuality. Almost. 

The reservation is reserved for the subject of analism. Analism, especially 
in marriage, especially in a sex-swapping situation, is the one sexual 
practice that, when fostered by the male partner, is dumped unequivocally on 
the doorstep of homosexuality. There are many reasons for this, and some of 
them are good ones. 

Dan B., the narrator of this case history, certainly has very little sexual 
mythology in his makeup. He must be classified as an overt and practicing 
homosexual, regardless of his marriage, regardless of what he calls his 
'camouflage,' and regardless of the subterfuge (sex-swapping) he practices 
in a vain attempt to cloak his true sexual inclinations. His introduction of 
anal intercourse into his married life was done solely to provide himself 
with a homosexual fantasy relief in the course of physical contact with his 
wife. Neither his motives nor his actions are a psychological mystery. 

On the other hand, a great many men who engage their female partners in anal 
intercourse are at once suspect and are often accused of homosexual 
tendencies even though they do not consciously or subconsciously fantasize 
the act in homosexual terms. These individuals are the ones who are often 
made to feel guilt and sexual shame for an act where no sexual guilt is 
warranted. And it may be some time before there is any common sense relief 
in sight. 

It must follow that anal intercourse may be accepted as an occasional sexual 
change of pace for some couples. Note that we said "occasional" and "some 
couples." As with many sex practices, overindulgence or exclusivity signal 
perversity. A couple that morbidly concentrates on fellatio or cunnilingus 
for all or the greater part of their sexual satisfaction is similarly 
flirting with perversity. And, without going into reasons that have been 
enumerated elsewhere, anal intercourse is not for everyone, just as oral sex 
in its many forms is not for everyone. In this newer, relatively liberal 
sexual environment in which we live, it will still take time and additional 
sophistication for anal intercourse to reach the level of acceptance where 
it does not ipso facto label the male, if he has been the instigator, as a 
homosexual. 

However, because individuals like Dan will always exist, so will the 
homosexual stigma of analism. There will always be homosexuals who try to 
make it in the straight world. Many will succeed; many, like Dan, will not. 
Dan, however, is one Who appears to have found an alternate life style. 
Contrary to his own statement, it is not "perfectly normal." Through group 
sex-swapping, Dan has attempted to legitimatize bisexuality. Few would argue 
that bisexual behavior is perverted, especially when engaged in by 
consenting adults. Still, it would stretch the point to call it perfectly 
normal. It is really more of a sexual expedient for men like 

Dan-and also for married women with strong lesbian tendencies. To be 
charitable, bisexual swapping quite-likely serves as a valuable safety 
valve, enabling our subject to experience the homosexuality he craves while 
still maintaining the straight facade he desires. 

Dan's introduction to bisexual swapping came shortly after his first 
experiment with group sex. His friends and acquaintances could be classified 
as sexual liberals-and so could his wife, Lauri. In fact, her "modernism" 
made it possible for her to indulge his earlier anal activities. She was a 
staunch believer in the separation of love and sex, and she soon met others 
who shared her feelings. At his first swinging party, Dan was terrified that 
he would give himself away. At the same time, he was rather surprised and 
pleased that Lauri was so sophisticated. At his second group sex affair, he 
was even more pleased when Lauri, at the height of the erotic excitement, 
openly engaged another girl in a lesbian act. Seeing her as a willing 
bisexual participant, Dan quickly explored other areas of the group sex 
scene and found to his excitement that there were groups who required 
bisexuality from both male and female members. He was quick to align 
himself, as a continuation of his case history demonstrates: 

"It was what they called a mixer party. There were two other couples besides 
Lauri and me. Both of them were in the group and they were experienced. The 
idea was to bring us out and see how far we'd go, Well, hell, I was the one 
they were really worried about. In most sex clubs, the girls are usually 
AC-DC. That always livens up the scene. But the guys go out of their way to 
play it straight. So you can see where the guys in the group I'm talking 
about now would have been more worried about me than Lauri. 

"I was worried, too, but not for the same reasons. What I was afraid of was 
not being able to stop myself from grabbing one of those big beautiful cocks 
and scaring everyone off. I mean, I couldn't come on too gay. You see, these 
guys have a tremendous thing about not being homosexuals. Yeah, that's 
right, they've all got speeches about how straight they are, about how they 
only go the gay route for variety and fulfillment'-which is one of their pet 
phrases. Believe me, I was ready to do some fulfilling. 

"At the start, the lights were so low that you had to be standing next to a 
person to see them, This is where we got rid of our clothes. They had it 
stacked so that we'd start out straight. I was lined up with a cute redhead 
named Jill who had fantastic pear-shaped tits with freckles on them. Her 
husband was Alex, an assistant professor of something at a local college. 
Alex was with Celia, the hostess, a rangy blonde with a tan all over her 
body. Lauri was paired off with Rex, Celia's husband. Sure, I was ready to 
play the game with the broads-but I couldn't wait to get my hands on the 
husbands. 

"Alex was sort of average, except that without his clothes he looked about 
eighteen. He was smallish, kind of soft, and incredibly pink. Even his cock 
was pink. And then there was Rex. Christ, he made me drool just to look at 
him. Rex was a health nut, a weight-lifter type. He looked just like one 
of-those pictures of the guys who pose for male pinups-only without the 
G-string. But he wasn't muscle-bound and bulky, except in the crotch. He was 
sleek skinned and the muscles just seemed to ripple over him as he moved. 
With him in the same room, it was getting difficult for me to breathe. 
Before the lights were turned up somewhat, I practically ruined my eyes 
trying to see more of him. 

"As I said, it began casually and heterosexually. I fucked Jill in a chair 
while she sat on my lap. For an extra kick it was one of those massage 
chairs that vibrate. Not that I needed any extra stimulation. By that time, 
the party was well lit and I could glance across the living room and see 
beautiful inches of Rex's cock tunneling in and out of Lauri. I was afraid I 
was going to lose my whole load right then and wipe out the evening, but 
Jill seemed to have things under control. I think they had it set up so I'd 
be hotter than hell when-we got around to the gay sex. To ease us along in 
that direction, the lesbian action started first. 

"Lauri was as ready in her way as I was in mine. Celia took her down on the 
rug in the center of the living room and was joined there by Jill. They each 
worked on one of Lauri's tits for a while, then Celia broke off and went 
right down to the cunt with her tongue. Jill moved into a position over her 
head and lowered a very wet cunt into her face. It was quite a sight, all 
that cunt-lapping, my own Lauri both giving and receiving. As exciting as it 
was, though, I couldn't have cared less-except maybe to crawl over and pluck 
Jill's ass-hole which I could see winking above Lauri's tongue. I even 
forgot about that in the next couple of minutes. 

"While we were watching the girls, Rex had made a round of drinks and 
brought them over to where I was sitting on the chair. He sat on the arm, 
his hard thigh pressed against my shoulder. Alex came for his drink and sat 
on the rug at the foot of the chair, his back leaning into my leg. It was 
all planned, all very smoothly done. They had made the first physical male 
contact, and they were waiting to see if I would shrink away from it. And I 
was worried that they might take my sexual trembling as a sign of rejection. 

"We sipped as we watched the girls, who were winding their way into a 
cunt-licking fury. Then Alex turned around and looked at me, having to stare 
up between my legs to do so. With my aching cock hobbling before his eyes, 
he said something about the excitement, something about the thrill that 
could be had from various pleasures, and some further blah-blah-blah about 
the beauty of open-mindedness. 

"I hardly heard him, I knew what he was leading up to. And I knew why he was 
on the floor. I wanted to reach out and grab his head and haul his mouth 
onto my cock, but it was like dealing with the only kid on the block who 
owned a baseball; it was his game, no matter how badly you wanted to play. 

"Finally, he got around to it, fingers at first, casually fondling my 
testicles, then moving up the hard shaft. When I didn't object, he set down 
his drink and eased between my knees. His lips went over the burning head of 
my cock, and I had to hang on to keep from coming in his mouth. From that 
moment on, I was oblivious to the cunt-licking tangle on the floor. I 
sighed, leaned back, and let Alex suck me deeply. As my cock was drawn hotly 
and deep into his mouth, Rex shifted on the arm of the chair so that his 
beautiful big hard-on was exposed and only inches from my hand. I tried to 
reach out and touch that sweet meat with enough hesitation so I wouldn't 
seem greedy-but when I had it in my hand, there was no letting go. 

"I jerked and caressed him and bent his cock toward me. He got the message 
and stood up. By leaning to one side, I could suck him off as he posed 
beside the chair. I mean, it was a scene hard to believe. Three broads on 
the floor going at each other, and me a few feet away with a hot cock and a 
hot mouth working out simultaneously. It couldn't have been a wilder 
arrangement if I'd planned it myself. 

"There wasn't any doubt that they had taken us through the tulips. They 
ivere my kind of people. Before the evening was over, I had fucked two 
ass-holes, Celia's and Alex's. And Rex had taken my ass and come off inside 
of me. 

I mean, it was a night to remember. I had everything in the way of sex I 
ever wanted. Afterwards, Lauri was a little confused about me swinging into 
the gay sex so easily and without any apparent reservations. But I didn't 
cop out and tell her about my homosexuality. I spouted the sexual freedom/no 
inhibitions line to her. It was easy enough, and besides, that's what she 
wanted to hear. It bolstered her own lesbianism. 

"Since then, the two of us have made it steady and regular in the bisexual 
scene. like we accept what we are and what we're doing. Sometimes when the 
action gets too heavily homosexual, Lauri will have a doubt or two as to how 
long we can keep up this kind of swapping without hurting ourselves. But I 
never have any trouble getting her back to the next gay orgy. For myself, 
I'm going to make it last as long as I possibly can. I want to get all the 
goodies while I'm still young and have my looks. I don't think anything 
could be lousier than being an aging old nellie shopping around for young 
boys. When I reach that point, I'll hang up my basket and quit. At the rate 
I'm going, I'll have worn out my cock anyway-and a few tender ass-holes." 

Most authorities agree that it is the exception rather than the rule that a 
"cure" of homosexuality can be effected with the various tools of 
psychotherapy. Analysts contend that one criteria is essential: a compelling 
desire to end homosexual contact. Dan, the subject of this case history, 
certainly does not have that desire. 

Though he desperately wanted to live "straight," his desire was not so 
overwhelming that he either sought help or restrained himself from 
introducing analism with homosexual fantasies into his marriage. His 
participation in bisexual swapping is a predictable escalation of his 
homosexual drive. For him, it was more of a social than sexual adjustment. 

Again we must point out that a mere liking of anal intercourse in a marital 
or sex-swapping situation is not necessarily indicative of a homosexual 
personality. The true homosexual like Dan, will progress far beyond 
occasional analism in both marriage and group sex. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

The Anal Masochist 

"I would say that I am quite definitely depraved. Does that shock you? It 
certainly shocked the last doctor I had-and a few before him. Of course, I 
knew exactly what he was thinking. like all the others in their fine, 
handsome offices, their shelves filled with books, this one was trying to be 
so warm. He probably thought: Here's an exceptionally good-looking woman of 
twenty-six who hasn't been married very long and who's having a sex problem. 

Well, I'll listen politely and wrap this one up in short order. 

"Then I told him about my anal eroticism. I told him how I craved being 
raped in the ass-hole. I told him how I desired to be tied and gagged and 
have my defenseless ass brutalized. I told him how I loved to be a slave to 
other people's asses, especially with my mouth. I told him that I wanted to 
be used as crudely as possible as long as it had something to do with an 
ass-hole. 

"Then it's the doctor who goes to pieces! He stammers and hems and haws and 
gets flustered. He asks, stupidly, why I came to him. For help, obviously, I 
have to answer. I'm confused; I want to understand what's going on; what 
compels me to want a kind of filthy sex I've never seen in anyone else. And 
the doctor does not really want to help me-can you imagine that? I have 
already told him too much. It is not a neat little problem of sexual 
adjustment in marriage. It's too dirty for him to touch. 

"Do you believe that I can't find a single doctor in this entire city to 
help me? You say it seems improbable that I couldn't find one therapist? 
Well, you're right. You've guessed. I was lying about the doctor-about all 
the doctors. I lie about it because I can't bring myself to see one. I don't 
want to have to look at them after I tell them what kind of a sexual freak I 
am. They will think it's too dirty. Anyone would. I don't know. It's ... 
it's so confusing. I want to talk about it, but I don't want to listen to 
what they have to say about me. I know I'm a pervert. 

I can call myself that, but I don't want anyone else to. But it's all right 
to talk into this tape recorder, isn't it? I mean, it can't talk back to me, 
can it? 

"Sex, as a word, doesn't have any meaning to me, not really. It can mean 
everything and it can mean nothing. But 'shit,' now that's a word that's 
explicit. I can relate to shit. In fact, I grew up thinking of sex and shit 
all wrapped up together. 

"I was twelve years old when I got my first proposition to fuck.' That's 
getting slightly ahead of the story, though. It happened at a class picnic 
one spring. After a ton of hot dogs and soda pop, I had to shit 
badly-'poop,' we called it then. There weren't any toilet facilities at the 
lake, so the kids were using the woods. The girls were supposed to go in one 
direction and the boys in the other. 

"Somehow I got confused. Then, armed with a couple of napkins for toilet 
paper, I went into the trees and heavy brush looking for a spot. I was just 
ready to pull down my jeans when I heard a sound and suddenly realized that 
I'd almost blundered onto a boy who was doing what I intended. He was just a 
few feet from me around a bush and I could see him perfectly. He was 
squatting with his pants down around his ankles and his bare ass was stuck 
out all funny-like. He hadn't really started to shit yet, and I was frozen 
to the spot for fear he'd hear me. I knew what he was doing was dirty and 
private, and I should have closed my eyes or turned my head-but somehow I 
couldn't. 

"I kept staring at his ass, particularly his ass-hole, and as I watched in 
fascination, the little hole opened up and a hot turd came squeezing out 
just like toothpaste out of a tube. I'd never really thought about it 
before, but it occurred to me that the turd was huge compared to the size of 
the hole that emitted it. Not that it meant anything to me at the time. 
Anyway, as I watched him shit, I was forced to retain my own crap. I had a 
terrible, strange feeling in my ass-as if .seeing him made me want to go all 
the more, only I couldn't. I could only bite my tongue and try to stay still 
while he finished. 

"I thought he would slip away then but instead he turned around to get some 
leaves off the same bush I was standing behind. He saw me and jumped back. 
It was an awkward moment for a couple of young kids. I finally stammered 
that I was sorry, that I had to do the same thing myself. Then I turned my 
back, while he wiped with the leaves. Though we were both embarrassed, he 
told me to go ahead and shit and he'd stand guard for me. I did, not knowing 
that he was watching me as I had watched him. Before I could pull up my 
jeans, he was right next to me asking if he could fuck me. 

"Well, I was a pretty dumb kid. I had only heard the word whispered, and 
vaguely knew it was dirty and forbidden. I shook my head no. Then he said 
he'd tell everyone he saw me shitting if I didn't go along with him. I 
protested that I'd seen him shitting, too, and I could tell about him. He 
said admitting that would admit spying on him. And that was how I was 
confronted with my first fuck.' 

"It turned out that the kid was dumber than I was. His idea of fucking had 
nothing to do with his cock or my cunt. Where he came up with the weird 
business, I'll never know. But his fuck' consisted of both of us baring our 
asses, bending over so that our cheeks touched, then rubbing our butts 
together with gradually increasing friction and speed. Our movements, as I 
recall, were sensual enough-rolling, grinding, and bumping. Maybe he'd spied 
on his parents or another couple making it and got the whole thing ass 
backwards. 

"Anyway, for a long time, that's what I thought fucking was all about and I 
didn't learn any different until an older girl explained it to me. It's a 
silly kid's story, I know, but that incident had a tremendous lasting effect 
on me. Even when I was older and knew better, I couldn't help the odd 
feeling that would come over me that fucking-sex, if you will-somehow had 
something to do with asses and shitting. 

"What happened a few years later did nothing to straighten out my head. My 
family was dirt poor, and when my pa took sick, I was farmed out to 
relatives as I was growing up. I ended up taking off from that last place I 
called home when I was seventeen. I wasn't exactly a runaway, I was just on 
the loose. 

"I knew the sex route by that time, too. I don't think you could call me an 
easy lay, but if I liked a boy well enough, I'd fuck. It was no big deal. 
Anyway, down in Shreveport, I was working as a waitress and looking for a 
way out when a Bible preacher with a tent show came through. Good old fire 
and brimstone, foot-stomping religion. They pitched their tent near where I 
worked, and I got to know the troupe, especially the Reverend, which is the 
way we addressed him. He was a fierce, good-looking guy in his forties and 
he kind of hypnotized you. 

"As soon as they set up their meetings, the Reverend took a imagine to me. 
He said it was the white dress I wore, said I looked like an angel with my 
honey-gold hair and all that white. He asked me if I could sing, and I said 
a little. Then he offered me a job with his revival. All I had to do was 
dress up in white lace and stand around and sing and look pretty and shout 
'Amen, brother!' at the right times. Well, I grabbed at the chance, mainly 
to travel, 'cause the Reverend was taking the meeting all through the South. 

"I didn't pay much attention to the religion part of it, but the rest was 
fun. There were other young people with the show, including a three-piece 
band. I got a thing going with the lead guitar player and pretty soon I was 
getting fucked every time we could sneak out of the Reverend's sight. Of 
course, we got caught. The Reverend fired the guitar player and sent him 
off, but for me he had something special in mind. He hauled me into his 
trailer that night and started screaming at me about sin. I don't mind 
telling you I was scared of the man. He was hell on wheels when he got wound 
up on sin. But you know, it was all a crock of shit. The Reverend wanted a 
little off his angel, too. The only trouble was the way he went about it. 

"He yelled that he was going to purge the devil out of me. Then he ripped 
off my clothes, flung me over his knees, and whipped my bare ass with a belt 
until I couldn't even cry out anymore. And that was just the warm-up. I was 
cowering naked on his bunk bed, trying to escape his eyes by holding one 
hand over my crotch and the other arm over my tits. But he wasn't having any 
of that. He grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands away, then stood there, 
his eyes practically burning out of their sockets, pointing at my cunt. My 
cunt was a sanctified hole, he yelled. It belonged to God for the purposes 
of love and reproduction. And I had despoiled it by letting that lousy 
guitar player fuck me. 

"Of course, the Reverend was more long-winded than I'm telling it here. It 
turned out that he'd been entertaining some ideas about my cunt himself and 
now wasn't willing to settle for sloppy seconds. How that man could talk 
that way about my cunt, interspersing the whole harangue with Bible 
quotations, I don't know. Actually, as it turned out, he was just leading up 
to my ass-hole. There was where the real trouble was, according to him. 

"The ass-hole was hell itself. It was the Devil's own dark nest. It was 
Sodom and Gomorrah all in one tight, dirty little hole. But the Devil could 
be had, the Devil could be driven out of his black hell. Oh yes, he preached 
to me, it would hurt and there would be pain and suffering, but it would be 
good for my soul. I thought he'd flipped out completely because I didn't 
know what he was talking about. He was talking about a personal kind of 
purge. He was going to fuck the Devil out of my ass himself! 

"I didn't believe him until he dropped his pants and I saw his erection. He 
gripped that huge, horny thing and raved that it was an instrument of God. 
Scared as I was, I realized it was more religion than I could take. I tried 
to get on my knees to pray-to him, to God, to anybody who would listen. For 
a minute, I thought he'd given in because he kept me on my knees and held my 
shoulders like he sometimes did with repentant sinners. But then I realized 
he was just turning me and swinging me into position so he could get at my 
ass. 

"The first thing I felt was a sharp, jabbing finger that tore up my 
ass-hole. I kicked and begged, but the finger tore up my tight little hole 
without any mercy. I'm sure I almost fainted, but it didn't stop the 
Reverend. He gripped my hips and forced my bent legs apart with his knees as 
he knelt behind me. Then I felt the hot knob of his stiff cock pushed 
against my ass-hole. There was no lubricant or moisture except for maybe the 
sweat of my fear. I had a nightmare vision of splitting in half, right up 
the valley of trembling cheeks. I screamed. 

Then the monster cock popped into me, and I felt as though a bomb had 
exploded in my bowels. 

"The fucking that followed was brutal beyond words. He yanked on my hips and 
slammed forward time after time, stretching me and filling me inch by inch. 
I was out of my senses. The torment, the pain, shot all the way to my 
fingers and toes. When he couldn't gain anymore of the tortured tunnel, he 
started long, fast strokes that took my breath away. And all the time he was 
preaching at me how he was driving out the Devil. Well, maybe he was. But 
when he came, it felt and looked and smelt more like shit coming out of my 
ass than any satanic demon. 

"I never forgot that anal rape, which was only the first of many. Somehow, 
the Reverend got a strange hold over me. Maybe if I had run away from him 
after that first incident, I wouldn't be the kind of person I am today. But 
I stayed with him through town after dusty town. I suffered all the way, but 
I was too mixed up to do anything about it. My head was filled with crazy 
religion and ideas about pain and penance and suffering and redemption. 
Being raped in the ass had meaning to ma. After a while, I wanted him to 
fuck my ass because, no matter how badly it hurt when he was doing it, I 
actually got to the point where I felt better when he was through, even 
though my ass-hole was so sore that it hurt to walk or take a crap. It was 
very unreal and made me feel different than others. The sensation was 
uniquely mine. 

"During that time I learned not to scream when my ass-hole was being 
brutalized. I knew it wouldn't do any good and the Reverend had a nasty 
habit of twisting and pinching the flesh of my cunt and pulling on my cunt 
hairs whenever I got too loud. There wasn't any redeeming satisfaction in 
that at all; it just plain hurt-horribly so. There was never any glow 
afterwards. To this day, no matter what I allow to happen to my ass, I don't 
want anyone messing with my cunt or my tits. 

"Oddly enough, the Reverend completely ignored my tits. I had a damn 
attractive bundle even then, but as far as he was concerned, I could have 
been flat as a board. Well, all men have their quirks. I guess the Reverend 
couldn't figure out anything Biblical to make them significant. He was too 
hooked on the heaven and hell theme of my cunt and my ass-hole. Oh yes, he 
kept that up to the very end. He never admitted that he simply dug 
brutalizing my ass. He always wrapped it up with purging and the Devil. 

"I shouldn't put him down as a hypocrite, though. Maybe he actually believed 
what he was doing. I remember, for instance, that he used to particularly go 
after my ass-hole on the nights when the crowd at the tent meeting would go 
especially wild from his preaching. When it was over, he couldn't calm down. 
Back in his trailer, he'd be shaking from head to toe and his mouth just 
couldn't stop. The way he put it, he was, 'Filled with the glory of the 
Lord,' and his passion wouldn't go away until he'd chased at least one more 
devil. Of course, the one he always chased was the one that resided about 
six inches up my tender ass-hole. 

"I'd know exactly what was coming. He didn't have to rip my clothes off 
anymore. He'd tell me to go naked before God, and I'd strip down. Then he'd 
order me to my knees to pray. He'd do the verbalizing, of course. And while 
he was behind me working himself up to a fit, I'd hear him pulling off his 
clothes. Then he'd get down behind me. He'd be really praying. He'd slap my 
bare ass every time he said 'Amen' or 'Glory' or 'Hallelujah.' And the slaps 
came pretty fast because he could really work it up. Next thing I'd know, 
he'd be off sin in general and down to the devil in my ass. That's when he'd 
move up close and bend me over. Sometimes I'd be on the bunk, sometimes on 
the floor. It didn't seem to matter to him. But I knew that when he got that 
close, I only had a minute to really say my prayers. 

"I could feel that big cock of his swelling up and getting hard as his 
trembling got worse and his preaching got more fiery. As I said, it only 
took a minute, then he'd grab and start jabbing for all he was worth. 
Sometimes he'd hit my ass-hole on the first thrust, other times it would 
take three or four stabs. But when he hit it, he didn't hesitate. He plowed 
it right in, stretching it horribly, not giving a damn that the flesh was 
being twisted and tortured. It would be hot and dry and feel like a burning 
stick rammed into me where there really wasn't an opening. 

"I prayed a lot to be able to shit in those first moments of his fucking. 
Just a little drizzle of shit, I can remember wanting, so it wouldn't tear 
the hole and make it bleed. When he did that-rip me so I'd bleed-there was 
no good feeling afterwards because I'd have to use first aid cream that 
would sting and feel squishy all the next day. But it felt very good when he 
spurted his jizz up my ass. I loved the hot, wet feel of that and I still 
do. 

"When he came, of course, he was through for the night. The second he shot 
his last drop, he'd pull out of my ass violently and just leave me lying 
where I was. Then it was like his mouth had suddenly worn out, for he 
wouldn't say another word. After a few minutes, he'd throw my clothes at me 
and push me out of the trailer. Then I'd go back to my own bunk in the 
equipment truck and, believe it or not, I used to sleep pretty well. 

"I was nineteen when I left the Reverend, and I guess I was already 
something of a sex freak. Of course, it didn't show and I didn't let on to 
anyone. For the next couple of years, I worked my way around Texas and 
Oklahoma mostly as a waitress and I did a little fucking around. I had an 
idea about finding the right guy and getting married, but the right kind of 
guys didn't usually show up around the places I worked. Anyway, I was sick 
of the Southwest. I guess that's what you'd call my virginal period. Sure, I 
fucked a few of those guys I dated, but it was like there was no feeling to 
it-like before the Reverend. So I split and headed north to St. Louis. 
That's where I met a gal who changed things for me. 

"I was working at the counter in a greasy downtown hamburger joint at night. 
This gal, who was sort of fat and flashy, came in all the time and we got to 
talking. I found out that she'd been in the same boat as me a couple of 
years before. After awhile she told me she'd get me in touch with a guy who 
hired young chicks for his cocktail lounges. There was good money in the 
bars, she said, and I wouldn't have to hassle with truck drivers and creeps. 
I looked around at all the grease I was wallowing in and said fine. 

"Marty had three imagine bars in town. He liked my looks and finally set me 
up in a lounge that was a hangout for a swinging, fast crowd. There was 
quite a cross-section of customers-gamblers, hoods, mickey mouse playboys, 
young businessmen. The place had jazz trios in and out. A very busy room. I 
had to work my tits off, but I was bringing in more money than I'd ever 
dreamed possible. Some nights I'd knock down close to fifty dollars in tips. 

"I was just beginning to think I'd landed in the lap of luxury when I found 
out that one didn't work for Marty unless she paid off. Not a kickback on 
tips but with sex. He specialized in hiring girls like myself, good-looking 
girls from the sticks who had never had much before. 

He waited until you got a good taste of the money coming in and had bought a 
few nice clothes you'd never had before, then he'd play his trump card. 
Actually, more girls walked out on him than stayed around-because, you see, 
Marty had some strange thoughts about sex. 

"When he laid it on the line for me and I agreed to spend the night at his 
place, I didn't know what I was getting in for. I was ready to go the whole 
route for him-he wasn't a bad looking guy, in his late thirties, although a 
little on the heavy side-but I didn't think he'd come up with anything 
weird. He felt me up pretty good and told me to strip, so I stripped. I even 
took off his clothes for him. Then he threw me the first curve. He wanted me 
to dance for him. He put on some wild rock music, and I bounced and frugged 
all over the living room while he sat on the couch and stroked his cock into 
an erection. 

"Next he wanted me to go down on him, something I hadn't done a lot of, but 
I was willing enough. Except that he didn't just ask or tease me into it, he 
ordered me to do it. I was actually flushed and embarrassed as I knelt on 
the floor before his outstretched legs and ran my tongue over the hard flesh 
of his cock, because I sensed that he was trying to humiliate me. 

"I didn't have to wait long to find out just how right I was. I took his 
cock into my mouth and sucked it as well as I knew how, even played with his 
balls and tickled his ass-hole as he told me, but then when he was close to 
coming off, he stood up, making me kneel in front of him. I was sucking like 
hell just to get it over with, and I could feel him starting to come. Then 
suddenly, he pulled back a few inches, his cock slipped out of my mouth-and 
he shot his jizz all over my face! 

"His stringy juices were everywhere, in my hair, running down my nose and 
cheeks, dribbling off my chin. I could have crawled into a hole. All he did 
was laugh. It really turned him on. He made me look at myself in the 
bathroom mirror before he let me clean it up. Then he fucked me dog fashion 
on the hard floor of the bathroom, at the same time insisting that I tell 
him how much I liked him and how much I enjoyed everything he did to me. It 
was tough getting the words out, but in a perverse way he was getting to me. 

"The next day at the cocktail lounge, Marty made it a point to tell me to 
keep my eye on the other waitresses. I hardly knew them. They hadn't said 
much to me, probably because they didn't like competition and I was pretty 
popular from the beginning. But I soon picked up that they were all dating 
customers. I watched their action. They were careful who they dated and how 
often. Once I knew what to look for, it didn't take any brains to see that 
they were hooking. 

"I approached one of the girls I thought I could talk to and asked What the 
real scene was. It was very educational. Yes, they were taking guys home and 
fucking them-but not for money. Not cash, that is. Just little gifts-say, a 
present that cost about twenty bucks. Or better, they'd go out with a guy 
maybe five times in a month and accept a present that cost a hundred. It was 
whoring, and I thought it was stupid not to get cash. But I was told that 
Marty wouldn't have it and that he had a gentleman's agreement with the 
cops. No cash, no arrests, no harassment. 

"If I wanted to start whoring like the other waitresses, I had to get 
Marty's permission-which meant another night at his apartment. This time he 
came on even stronger. Instead of dancing for him when we were naked, he 
made me do exercises. I had to twist and turn and bend into grotesque 
positions-positions that displayed my cunt and ass-hole in the lewdest way. 
Then he demanded that I play with myself on the rug in front of him. I had 
to squeeze my tits, pinch and slap my nipples. I had to diddle my clit and 
finger-fuck myself, working from one finger up to four, using one hand, then 
the other, and finally both hands. Then he had me bend over, my ass facing 
him, and he demanded that I shove a finger up my ass-hole and work it in and 
out. 

"I'm sure he'd already come to the conclusion that I was submissive. But it 
was when I finger-fucked my ass that he knew what I was really like. I 
couldn't help myself. Nobody had rapped at my back door since I'd left the 
Reverend. Not that there weren't times when I didn't want someone to; it was 
just that nobody had tried and I couldn't bring myself to ask someone to 
fuck me there. It had to be forced on me, or at least, as Marty quickly 
discovered, I had to be forced to admit I wanted it there. When he saw me 
get so hot from what I was doing, he made me tell him how it felt and how 
badly I wanted it up the ass. It wasn't a sudden violent thing with him. 

"He tantalized me by making me continue to finger my ass-hole. I was going 
out of my mind, begging him to fuck me there, nearly on the verge of tears. 
He laughed and said sure, he'd like to fuck me there if I'd only do 
something for him first. Anything, I told him. He replied that he wanted me 
to lick his ass-hole. 

"I won't try to explain why I did what he asked. He had a power over me, 
different than the Reverend's, but just as binding and demanding. He took me 
into his bedroom-it was the first time I'd been in there-and showed me huge 
mirrors on his walls and closet doors. He put me on my back on the bed and 
crouched over me facing my feet. He dangled his hairy balls into my mouth 
and I licked them. Slowly he moved so that I was forced to lick up behind 
his balls, closer and closer to his hair-fringed, wrinkled ass-hole. It was 
like a strange eye staring at me. Then the tip of my tongue was touching it. 

"I hadn't known what to expect, but I was surprised at the tightly puckered 
flesh being so hard and firm. My own felt so soft and tender to my finger, 
so I assumed everyone's was the same. I licked it tentatively at first, then 
he yelled at me to use more pressure. He was fairly clean there, but not 
perfect. I wasn't going to pull away from him in any case, for I soon 
realized that I wasn't displeased by either the taste or the scent. 

"At that moment, the image of that shitting little boy at the picnic came 
back to me. A very hot, sexual surge ran through me. I felt an excitement 
building that was more stirring than anything that had ever happened to me 
earlier, except fingering my ass-hole. I pushed my lips tightly into the 
crevice of his ass and sunk my tongue into his rectum as far as I could 
force it. I worked it as a whip while he urged me to lick and suck and push 
it deeper. I felt better, more totally consumed about what I was doing to an 
ass-hole then I had ever felt when sucking a man's cock. 

"The view Marty had in the mirrors hastened matters. He broke off from my 
ass-licking and got me up on my hands and knees. Crouched as I Was, I could 
watch his reflection behind me. I could see the hugeness of his cock pointed 
straight at my ass. It looked angry and dark purple as it sunk between my 
cheeks and wedged hotly against my ass-hole. I clenched my teeth and waited 
for the inevitable assault. like the Reverend, he wasn't using any 
lubrication-but all my earlier fingering had gotten my hole somewhat juicy. 

"Marty surprised me. He wasn't a battering ram like the Reverend. He took 
his time getting it in. He stretched my hot brown ring with steady pressure, 
expanding it slowly over the hard head of his cock. It wasn't that it didn't 
hurt. Christ, it hurt plenty! But it was sexier and lewder the way Marty was 
doing it. I was quivering all over. I didn't want him to be nice to me and 
take it easy; that was no good. I wanted him rough. Finally, I couldn't take 
his slow penetration any more. I sucked in my breath and slammed my ass 
back. The head of his cock reamed into me-and I let out a great fart! 

"He wasn't very gentle after that. In the mirror, I watched him attack. I 
could see him haul that fat cock out of my sorely used hole so that only the 
head remained inside. Then I watched the fierce, sweated expression on his 
face as he snapped his hips forward and thrust the brutal cock deep into me 
to the hilt. He was an ass-fucking madman, I tell you. When he got wound up, 
he could offer even more torment than the Reverend. At least his 
deliberateness made it seem that way. So did the agonized rumblings of my 
bowels. I had to fight with all the strength I possessed to keep from 
shitting. I was desperately afraid that when he came, his jizz would act 
like an enema and I'd splatter both him and the bed with wet shit. I felt 
he'd beat me within an inch of my life if that happened-or even worse, he'd 
get disgusted and send me away. 

"Well, the worst didn't happen. I was officially one of Marty's girls and, 
for the time being, his favorite. Anytime he wanted me, I was on call. Other 
nights I was free to hustle the cocktail lounge customers. As whoring goes, 
it wasn't bad. Since all the guys knew the game, there was rarely any 
trouble. Plus, not a helluva lot was expected. They were out to get fucked, 
maybe sucked off. Only a few guys ever wanted to make it in my ass-hole, and 
they weren't rough and demanding about it the way I like. I'd let them do 
their thing, but I made sure I got a damn big present for it. 

"There were a few guys who got their kicks from eating out my cunt, but that 
was okay. I'd begun to develop a liking for that. It was something that my 
earlier experiences hadn't included much. The sensation of a tongue lapping 
at my cunt and having my clitoris sucked was a kick that got bigger the more 
often it happened. It wasn't long before I learned how to get guys to go 
down on me even though they didn't have that in mind. 

"Also I learned how to shift around when I was sucking their cocks so that 
my cunt would be in their faces, ready for a sixty-nine. And I picked up on 
how easy it was to talk dirty and tell a guy how much I'd like to be eaten. 
I even tried to get guys to lick my ass and one or two did. And if a guy 
would do that for me, I'd feel free to go ahead and tongue his ass-hole. It 
wouldn't have been smart to come on strong about my analism right at the 
start. Not that it mattered a whole lot, because I was getting that sweet 
part of my sex life from Marty." 

It is quite probable that the anal masochist is more prevalent today than 
his or her sadistic counterpart. Un-like the subject of our case history, 
however, most do not incorporate elements of coprophilia into their 
aberration. Coprophi-lia, of course, relates to sexual gratification 
associated with feces or urine or the acts of defecation or urination. 
Hence, contrary to the opinions of some experts, it does not hold that the 
practitioner of anilingus (oral stimulation of the anus) is in any way a 
coprophiliast. 

Since the anus is a distinctive erogenous zone, it is quite understandable 
that individuals who do not hold with the anal taboo would wish to stimulate 
their sex partner in this area. Among married couples who incorporate 
anilingus in their sexual repertoire, it is quite common to find a strong 
scrupulousness in the matter of anal hygiene. Certainly, coprophilia is 
nonexistent to them. 

-likewise, among sex-swapping groups, anal eroticism in the form of 
intercourse or anilingus is rarely tolerated if an individual shows a 
perverse fascination with, or can only achieve gratification from, feces and 
urine. To be sure, there are a small number of bizarre groups that tolerate 
and encourage coprophilia (as we shall see when our subject resumes her case 
history), but they are not in the mainstream of the group sex phenomenon. 

Vera H., on the other hand, associates her earliest sexual experience with 
excretion. In her case, this is of more paramount importance then her early 
anatomical associations of the buttocks and the anus. As Vera grew older, 
those early associations were more sexually significant to her than any 
others she encountered. It is particularly unfortunate, in her case, that 
her most dramatic early sexual experience took the form of anal rape. 

This crystallized the girl's sexual psyche and created a strong fixation in 
regard to both analism and coprophilia. It should be pointed out that 
defecation is, after all, a very natural and necessary body function. Normal 
and perverted sexual acts are directed, in the main, to body and body 
functions. 

Infants and young children have always had a fascination with feces. Rare is 
the child who does not play with or eat his own waste matter at one time or 
another. A diaper full of fecal matter may produce a warm, comforting 
sensation to a baby. The act of voiding body wastes may give a rather 
pleasant feeling. A child, in other words, has to be taught that feces and 
the function that produces it are "dirty." This is a learning process on the 
part of every human being. The repugnance toward the "dirty stuff' does not 
come as naturally as does the fascination with it. 

Infants and very young children are by no means the only age group to harbor 
the natural fascination. Preadolescents are notorious in their preoccupation 
in this regard. This is primarily because it is one of the first, if not the 
first taboos they encounter. And, as everyone knows, the first effect of 
parentally instigated and enforced taboos generally is considerable 
curiosity about the taboo subject or act. The words "shit" and "piss" are 
spoken and scrawled by children long before they turn their attention to the 
sexual taboos and start to use words like "fuck" and "screw." 

Fortunately, most of us outgrow this curiosity of preadolescence. But it 
must be remembered that it is at about this crucial time in a youngster's 
development that he or she is becoming interested in sex. In lieu of 
straightforward and enlightening sex information, it has been shown that a 
child may be confused about the true functions of his or her body-a 
confusion, for instance, about the acts of voiding body waste and sex. As 
with Vera, the roots of more than a few cases of coprophilia can be traced 
back to this period. 

Vera's psychosexual upheaval, however, was grossly compounded by her anal 
rape. And in the wake of this trauma, the fire of her confusion was fueled 
by an infusion of irrational religion from an itinerant preacher. It is 
apparent that strong feelings of guilt in association with sex (and the 
anus) were forced upon the girl most strongly. Few would disagree that it 
was nearly inevitable that her developing masochism would center upon 
analism. 

It should be pointed out that masochistic behavior is not always the 
full-blown, all-encompassing picture painted by fictional erotica. On the 
contrary, the totally masochistic personality-the sex slave-is rather rare. 
The real masochist, as opposed to his or her fictional counterpart, most 
often focuses on the aberration. There are identifiable types who find their 
gratification by being spanked. Others require to be whipped or strapped or 
paddled with instruments. Some find verbal abuse stimulating, others thrill 
to sexual humiliation. Many prefer to be used as servants or supplicants, 
others enthusiastically welcome restraints and bondage. 

The list goes on, covering endless methods and instruments of abuse. It is 
true that certain masochists derive their gratification from a combination 
of two or more torments, sometimes even a combination of the mental and 
physical abuses. But it can still be said that for each masochist, there is 
a focus. For Vera, it was analism, rooted in coprophilia. 

Before the subject continues her narrative, we shall briefly fill in a 
period of two years. Vera continued to work for Marty and remained his 
sexual victim. Their relationship stayed basically the same as she related 
previously. Her employer, though nominally sadistic, appeared not to be an 
adventurer in that regard. He did not introduce her to any refinements of 
humiliation and degradation. He was satisfied with merely a degree of sexual 
power over his stable of females (for Vera was not his only one). 

In due course, Marty grew tired of her and sought her less and less, even 
though Vera had totally accepted him as her sexual master. Disappointed that 
she was no longer special to him, or at least one of his favorites, she 
began to annoy and nag him in the hopes he would chastise her. But his 
reaction was far different from what she had planned. 

Marty had a circle of bizarre acquaintances unknown to Vera. One was a 
small, intense man in his middle thirties whom we shall call Harold. Harold 
compensated for his size by his sadistic nature. Though he was not 
physically repugnant, his stature and personality had nothing to make him 
attractive to women. He was a frequenter of the sexual underground but, as a 
single male, his involvement was limited. He needed and desired a submissive 
female with whom to pursue his pleasures. 

So when the word reached Marty, he offered Vera. He briefed Harold 
explicitly on how to treat her, and ordered Vera to do Harold's bidding. She 
did not protest. She was, after all, prostituting herself and, furthermore, 
she wanted to please Marty. 

She was disappointed in Harold when she first saw him, but by the end of an 
evening with him she was consumed with admiration for his brutal tactics. He 
had tormented her anus exquisitely and made other degrading demands that 
thrilled her. He saw her nearly every night for a week and then announced 
that he was going to marry her, that she was to become his sole property. 
Marty reinforced the scheme. 

Harold and Vera were married in a civil ceremony in St. Louis and at once 
the bridegroom made plans to initiate her into the strange sex-swapping 
circles he so desired to enter. To Vera, despite her experience as a 
prostitute and a submissive mistress, the bizarre sex-swapping was a 
revelation. 

It would be wrong to say that Vera entered the syndrome with unrestrained 
gusto or that she at all times was wildly enthusiastic. She is still 
confused and guilt-ridden, primarily about her future role as a female. She 
fluctuates between total acceptance of her present life and neurotic fears 
that she may be mentally ill. However, her masochistic compulsions are 
deeply ingrained. When Harold announces that he has arranged a sex party 
with another couple or more, Vera finds herself incapable of refusing to 
participate. 

In the following narrative, the subject relates the details of one such swap 
meeting. She and Harold traveled to New Orleans for the session. The host in 
this instance (Roger) was masochistic and submissive to his wife (Nora). The 
New Orleans couple had practiced sadomasochism with others for six years. 
They were dedicated to the pursuit of their perversity and had encompassed 
many symbolic trappings and fetishes. Also, this was the second such 
sex-swapping affair in which Vera was confronted with a dominant female. On 
that first occasion, with four couples present, hardly any attention was 
paid to her-so her curiosity was highly piqued by this new and relatively 
strange element. 

"I couldn't believe my eyes when the door was answered by a maid. It took me 
a moment to realize that the maid was a man-that it was Roger, all gussied 
up with high heels, stockings, a little costume with a frilly apron, makeup, 
and a woman's wig. He had been completely feminized. I wondered what kind of 
woman could wield such power. Then I saw Nora. 

"Nora was a picture of domination. She was a tall, haughty brunette with 
amazing pointed breasts that threatened to push through the material of a 
tight black sheath gown she wore. While she was putting Roger through his 
paces, fetching cocktails and serving us, I could see that she was wearing a 
tight, braless corset underneath her gown. 

"Nora completely took the play away from Harold, and I could see that he 
wasn't too happy about it. I sensed that it was going to be a rough night 
for Roger and me. And I was worried about something else, too. With a female 
in charge of the sex games, how much could my ass-hole expect? 

"Harold ordered me out of my clothes, and Roger was-likewise ordered to 
remove the maid's costume and to remain in garter belt, hose, and heels. The 
two of us were paraded around for the others' amusement, and Nora suggested 
I might be tied up while she 'examined' me. At this point, I was already 
flushed with excitement and embarrassment. The idea of being tied up 
appealed to me, too. Often it's particularly thrilling to feel utterly 
helpless when being raped in the ass. 

"Harold had already explained my anal preferences, but at that point I had 
no idea how Nora was going to accomplish the deed. Roger and I were taken 
into a master bedroom, and my arms were secured behind my back with leather 
straps, wrists to elbows. That forced my tits out prominently, and Nora 
proceeded to squeeze them and twist them harshly. That sort of thing doesn't 
do a lot for me except hurt, but I held back crying out. Across the room, 
Harold was out of his clothes. With his cock already hard, he had bent Roger 
over a chair and was whacking him with a wide strap furnished for the 
occasion. 

"Now Harold truly loves this ass-hole fucking, as I can well testify. It 
made me jealous to see his fat hard-on because I knew he was working his way 
swiftly to the point where he'd be plunging it in Roger's ass. 

"Meanwhile, Nora pushed me down on the bed and removed her gown. Beneath the 
corset, she wore no panties. The hair on her cunt was full and bushy. She 
walked over to where my head was lying on the edge of the bed, spread her 
thighs, and gave me a good look at the swollen red lips surrounding the wet 
inner flesh. Then she turned, spread her cheeks, and showed me her ass-hole. 
She asked me which one I wanted. When I told her the latter, she laughed. 
She had thought Harold might have exaggerated my preferences. Be that as it 
may, if I wanted to taste her ass-hole, I had to lick cunt first. 

"She leaned against the headboard of the bed with her knees crooked and her 
cunt wide open. The high heels of her shoes dug into the cover, and I was 
made to wriggle on my belly up between her legs. It was only the second time 
I had ever eaten another woman's cunt, and truthfully, I had mixed emotions 
about it. But lick and tongue I did. I burrowed my mouth into her juicy hole 
and followed every lewd instruction she gave me. I sucked her clitoris for 
what seemed an interminable length of time. Naturally, I couldn't see 
anything else that was going on around me, but I knew from the wet stroking 
sounds and Roger's moans that he was getting a big stiff cock in his ass on 
the other side of the room. 

"I resented what I was being forced to do. It was my ass that was important, 
and this bitch was ruining everything for me. She was probably so used to 
having men groveling in her cunt that she didn't realize how different I 
was. I think she must have sensed how upset I was getting because finally 
she pushed my mouth down and lifted her ass higher so that I could lick her 
smaller, sweeter hole. 

"It was delicious. Some of her cunt juices had run between her legs and 
moistened her ass-hole. I sucked them up like they were rare champagne. Then 
I got my tongue deep enough into the wrinkled rectum to make her start a 
series of tiny farts. That really got to her. Her flesh twitched for the 
first time and she began breathing hard. She was also grunting as if she 
were trying to shit. 

"The position we were in and the place were all wrong. The idea sent a wild 
chill through me. I'd never gone that far before. I mean, actually eating 
shit. As close as I'd ever come was cleaning off the mingled shit and jizz 
from Harold's cock after he'd fucked me in the ass. While I was thinking 
that, my tongue was working furiously on her ass-hole. The next thing I 
knew, she farted tremendously and had an orgasm. I think it surprised even 
her, for she momentarily had a stunned look on her face. 

"Shortly after that, I saw how Nora was going to accomplish fucking my ass. 
I was almost sorry I'd been thinking about it. She strapped on a plastic 
dildo that was huge! Damn, it was bigger than most cocks I had seen, and 
certainly bigger than any cock that had ever been in my ass-hole. As she 
strapped it on, I was shaking my head in protest that I couldn't. She 
slapped me across the face and told me to shut up and quit my whimpering. 

"I was stunned by her sudden viciousness. I was more than willing to'go 
along with far-out sex in order to find my particular pleasures, but I was 
prepared for only so much brutality. With my arms secured behind me it was 
difficult to move, but I struggled to raise myself and open my mouth to 
protest further. That's the precise moment when she grabbed me by the hair, 
yanked my head forward and slammed the cold, hard, plastic cock into my 
mouth! 

"She jammed it so far down my throat, I didn't even have a chance to fight. 
I gagged and almost puked. I choked for breath and as I did, I realized I 
was actually sucking on the damn imitation cock as if it were real. 
Suddenly, a weird sensation came over me. In a part of my consciousness, I 
realized what had happened and what was happening. In another, deeper part 
of my mind, all I could think about was the fact that the terrible, 
rock-hard, smooth thing in my mouth was shortly going to be up my ass. 

"Now I began to suck the tool, not as a reaction to its rough penetration, 
but as if it were truly live flesh and blood, a prick that was a total 
master over me. I hollowed my cheeks, created a suction, and pulled on the 
inhuman cock, causing the straps that stretched around Nora's ass to snap 
out from her body. Obviously, she loved it. She grabbed my tits and yanked 
on them. She slapped the side of my ass that she could reach. She pushed one 
knee up on the bed and jammed it between my thighs until I was forced over, 
losing contact with the plastic cock. Then she rolled me over, half on and 
half off the bed. My helpless ass, with my hands tied above it, was 
beautifully vulnerable to her next savage move. 

"The steely prong of the plastic cock hit my ass like a battering ram. 
Never, never had I been so agonizingly entered! I thought the ring of my 
ass-hole had been shredded and ripped inward. I screamed-I screamed like I 
never had before! Prior to that assault, nothing I'd ever taken up the ass 
was such a rupturing torture. That's when I shit! I couldn't help it. It was 
like being impaled with the fattest enema stick in the world. There was no 
water, but my God, was there ever an insertion! 

"The next moments were lost to me, but I must have angered them immensely. I 
had an orgasm that sent my whole mind and body spinning. When I came out of 
it, I was sitting on the floor, weak and dazed, and squishing in a puddle of 
my own wet shit. When my eyes came back in focus, I looked up to see the 
brown, dripping dildo poised above me. Nora screamed at me to lick it clean! 
This time, however, she didn't grab my hair and force it into my face. She 
stepped back, tantalizing me with the foul goodie. 

"Hypnotized, I pulled my knees under myself and knelt upright. I moved 
toward her, toward that juicy, globular stick of plastic. She inched back as 
I crept forward, but she knew--oh, God, how she knew! 

"I sucked my own shit like it was the last supper. I cleaned the huge 
plastic cock right down to the last tiny crevice of the simulated veins. 
With brown dribble running from the corners of my mouth, I begged Nora to 
shit on my face. She did. And so did Harold before the wild, unforgettable 
night was over. 

"The last thing I remember was licking Harold's jizz out of Roger's ass-hole 
while Nora, wearing her magnificent phony cock, roared up my ass-hole one 
more time." 

CONCLUSION 

like other forms of sexual expression, analism is a distinct and viable 
adjunct to the total scheme of man and woman. It need not be considered a 
perversity or an aberration. We freely admit that the case histories 
presented in this volume have dealt with the extreme varieties of analism in 
the context of a seemingly national persuasion toward sex-swapping among 
married couples in all walks of life. This volume should be considered, by 
the knowledgeable and intelligent reader, not to be a condemnation of such 
practices and those individuals, but rather a guide to psychosexual problem 
areas which can, and may, arise in this time of relative sexual freedom. 

To be bold: analism is no more a sin than alleged "normal" coitus. If one 
considers sex a sin and, therefore, immoral, all manners, methods, and 
positions of sex are immoral. No one position is any more holy than another. 
Since the days of Freud, we, as a rational people, have learned to respect 
the edict that "man is an unfathomable creature, richer for his anachronisms 
than his God-like strictures." 

No man-all-wise, and with a philosophy all-encompassing-could fail to 
realize the vital impact and "mportance of sexual variety between consenting 
adults. Volumes have been written and more volumes will be written. The 
taboo is no longer sacrosanct. When we can, as we must, talk openly about 
sexual mores and methods, we must not fail to venture into those fields 
hitherto unrecorded. Analism, in conjunction with sex-swapping, is one of 
the more poignant. 

We condemn neither analism nor sex-swapping. Nor do we recommend them. We 
have merely attempted to show the correlation between the two and the 
infusion of one into the other. By offering examples of this 
correlation-which, admittedly, are more intensely active than the average-we 
hope to spotlight the myths and misconceptions that surround and infuse this 
little known area of sexual reality.
 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Caprio, Frank S. Variations in Sexual Behavior. New York: The Citadel Press, 
1955. 

Karpman, Benjamin. The Sexual Offender and His Offenses. New York: Julian 
Press, 1954. 

Kinsey, Alfred C. The Sexual Behavior of the Human Male. Philadelphia: W. B. 
Saunders, 1948. 

Krafft-Ebing, Richard von. Psychopathia Sexu-alis. New York: Paperback 
Library, 1965. 

Kronhausen, Phyllis and Eberhard. Pornography and the Law. New York: 
Ballantine Books, 1959. 

Lewinsohn, R. A History of Sexual Customs. New York: Fawcett, 1958. 

Masters, W. H., and Johnson, V. E. Human Sexual Inadequacy. Boston: Little, 
Brown & Co., 1970.
