The Mouth Merchants
[aka 'Oral Gamesmen']
by Gerald Summers 


INTRODUCTION 

"The first time I ever saw Brad it was at the pool, that overgrown bathtub 
we called a pool, anyway, and immediately I feared and suspected that I was 
hooked. 

"Now don't go tripping out, please, and think I'm laying a 
love-at-first-sight bit down; I'm no fool and love is one of those grossly 
magnified four-letter words. I'm twenty-six (yes, I know I don't look it), 
hip, and I've been around enough to know exactly what I like. 

"Also, all the things I don't like, which is at least as important. Heading 
that list is boredom-a grand and general heading that certainly includes 
having a husband, children, living in some jerkwater town and all the other 
by-products of the American Dream Scheme. I left small-town U.S.A. when I 
was seventeen, in the car of a total stranger who might have turned out to 
be a murderer, for all I cared, impulsively getting in the new car when it 
stopped. It turned out that the stranger was a buyer for a big antique shop 
in Los Angeles, on his way home, and he had this 'thing' for girls with long 
red hair. 

"Los Angeles! Hollywood! Oh, yes, I was down-home enough to sincerely 
believe they were waiting for me out there. After all, I'd been the lead in 
a few school plays, I had lucked out with mother nature, what .with having 
the big green eyes, pretty pink skin, and lack of freckles that redheads are 
rarely lucky enough to get, and I had the kind of body that lost me my 
innocence before I was fifteen, all curves with the kind of tits and round 
little ass that just filled a man's big hands. Sure, Hollywood would be 
waiting open-armed, so I willingly allowed Ken whatever-his-name-was to 
drive me there with only the clothes on my back! 

"Well, Hollywood turned out to be a little different than I'd expected, 
about the same as it must be for every other pretty girl who arrives full of 
hopes and youth. I landed there with a few bills, thanks to friend Ken, a 
modest wardrobe from the same source, and a cunt that ached from being 
fucked so often along the way that we arrived three days past schedule. Ken 
belatedly informed me that he had a wife and three kids nearby, deposited me 
in a crummy apartment-hotel in Hollywood, and split, promising to return in 
a few nights. 

"It took me about an hour to convince the man at the desk that he should 
give me Ken's money, that I didn't want the lousy room. Finally I used my 
age to get me what I wanted. I had no intention of seeing Ken again now that 
I was in Hollywood-he was a link with my drab past, and burning bridges was 
my thing that week. As I walked along the famous Hollywood Boulevard, the 
small suitcase banging against my calf, I went to work on the other link-my 
name. I'd been saddled with May Beth all my life, and it was great fun to 
slowly wander through the shops and busy streets considering and rejecting 
new names. I finally settled on Kristi Y-, inspired by some new, hair lotion 
advertised in the window of a fancy drugstore I passed. I was busy trying 
the name on for size when I bumped straight into a tall, handsome older man. 

"I was too inexperienced to realize Vern had caused the 'accident.' 'Take it 
easy, baby,' he cautioned, reaching out to steady me. 

"Feeling damn clumsy, I apologized, and before I knew it I was walking along 
with Vern, attempting to follow his smooth line. When we came to his shiny 
new car I got in without thinking, nodding when he suggested a pizza at some 
little hole in the will a few blocks off the main drag. What with the pizza 
and the coke, it took us all of an hour and a half before we were tucked 
into a big bed, this time in a nice, new motel not far from the Sunset 
Strip. 

"Feeling fine, I relaxed and let him begin to make love to me. I had eaten, 
I had a bed for the night, at least, and, since I was still somewhat sore 
between my young legs, I figured I might as well be a little more sore. It 
couldn't matter much at that point. 

"I may as well admit it, sex was a big letdown to me then. Oh, I wasn't 
counting the first time, when a guy pulled the rape bit on me. He was just 
too hot to listen to reason, and I had been playing a heavy game of 
prick-teaser. Besides, I knew enough to know that the first time wasn't 
usually that good for a girl. So after I'd bounced down to the nearest 
hippie clinic and gotten The Pill, I gave it another try. This time it was 
the captain of our school football team. Well, what Rob didn't know about 
girls could have filled a book, so of course I still wasn't thrilled. But I 
began to worry a little when I let a few other, older guys fuck me. Not that 
it didn't feel sort of good, but where was that big moment? Why did they 
always roll off leaving me feeling like I'd taken a wrong turn somewhere? I 
just couldn't get with it, but since every man I'd ever met seemed convinced 
that it was the greatest, I soon got pretty practical about the whole thing. 
A quick screw could get a pretty girl a lot of things in this world. I was 
just sorry that ecstasy wasn't one of them. 

"Still, it was no big thing, and it felt kind of nice, the way Vern was 
kissing and sucking my pouty little nipples. I was even mildly sorry that he 
was soon going to stick his big prick in me and start pumping away-his 
tongue felt so good on my breasts. 

"But Vern didn't, seem to be in any more of a hurry than I was. He kept 
kissing and sucking my stiff nipples, and when finally he began to move, it 
was only to lower his face and begin kissing the smooth flesh of my belly 
and thighs. I was so dumb I had no idea what he was going for until he was 
there. 

"Like I said, it felt good, his mouth roaming over my body. He moved lightly 
over the high line of my hip, then started to kiss his way up and down my 
legs until he had managed to wriggle between my thighs. I expected him to 
lift himself on to me, to mount me, but he remained as he was, between my 
thighs, kissing and licking higher and higher until his face was only a few 
inches from my wet cunt. 

"That was another thing. I never had any trouble getting juicy. A few kisses 
and a feel or two and I'd be physically ready for some action. But it was 
different this time-very different. A funny heat penetrated my limbs, a 
crazy, gingery warmth. I found my breath catching and changing, and my 
thighs began to open wider, as if my little cunt needed a touch of cooling 
air. 

"I felt positively slippery down there, too, and the feeling spread out so 
that I felt as if I'd been lubricated at every joint, that if I'd tried to 
walk I might very well move as if I'd been oiled. 

"'That's beautiful, doll,' Vern's nearly forgotten voice drifted up to me. 
'I always had a thing for red-headed dollies. Real redheads, with little red 
snatches. Now I'm going to show you how much you turn me on, Kristi, baby 
... ' He moved even closer. 

"I caught my breath as his tongue, wet and hot, dragged slowly across my 
stiffened clitoris. Then I began to moan pathetically, instantly so involved 
and controlled by what this stranger was doing to me that I ceased being 
myself at all. I was a thing of jelly, a moaning, writhing doll, a slave to 
a knowing, eager tongue which dug into my cunt in a way no cock had ever 
known it. I don't know if, given the chance, all young girls would be turned 
on as I was, the first time a skilled tongue went to work on them, but I 
felt as if I were discovering sex for the first time. There, on my back, my 
ass wriggling all over that bed, I finally learned about ecstasy. Pinned to 
the sheets which quickly dampened from my heated flesh, rough hands holding 
me down, spreading me open, a feverish tongue, soft lips, sharp teeth, a 
mouth that sucked between kisses, I dissolved into my first orgasm, only to 
be convulsing against his face a second and, finally, a third time before he 
let me go. Weak and panting, glowing and still shaking from the aftermath of 
his tonguing, I waited dizzily for Vern to climb on top of me and finally 
sink his prick into me. I didn't mind the thought-I was, in fact, happy to 
return in part, the pleasure I'd been given, but Vern merely rolled over and 
hugged me to his body, content and tired. I managed to glance down and was 
surprised to find that his cock was glazed with come ... 

"Vern kept me at that motel nearly a month. During that time I didn't do a 
damn thing except wait for him to return to me from wherever he earned his 
daily bread. I guessed he was married since he never spent a whole night 
with me, but when he was with me the world was a ball of fire and flowing 
honey. Once he stayed between my legs a full three hours-I timed it- and 
when he finally moved it wasn't at my request. With Vern I learned the 
subtle differences of being on a bed on my back while getting sucked as 
opposed to sitting on Vern's face or standing up, propped against a wall 
with one leg hooked over his neck. We spent every minute, almost, in sheer 
ecstasy. He didn't try to fuck me even once, but after the first week he did 
attempt to introduce a new innovation. 

"I'd given up worrying about how Vern was getting his own kicks. I soon saw 
that his hand appeared to do the trick just fine. But he had a better idea. 
'In the interest of a broader education and the sake of justice and all,' he 
broached one night while we were resting up, 'you're about to get a lesson 
in the joys of cocksucking, my love. Ever take a man's cock in your mouth, 
Kristi?' 

"I shook my head, frowning slightly. The thought turned me off. 

"'Then there's always a first time, baby ... ' His big hand snaked around my 
head and pulled my face to his belly. 

"His dick wasn't hard, but as I bobbed helplessly, protesting and attempting 
to evade him, the flesh rapidly hardened until his prick was huge and flush 
against my cheek. It smelled faintly of perspiration and semen, but all my 
struggling only brought me closer, until I was lightly making my protests to 
the broad tip his fat cock. 

"Just open your mouth, brat. That's a good girl, open your mouth and suck.' 
His voice was amused and condescending, but his grip was like iron. 

"I relaxed suddenly, because my body was being turned by Vern's free hand. 
Before I knew it Vern had parted my thighs and was busily lapping at my 
cunt. I calmed down at once, and with his wonderful tongue doing crazy 
things to my cunt, I could hardly refuse to do as he asked. I opened my 
mouth and took the head of his dick between my lips. The mechanics were easy 
enough, but I nearly gagged on the reality of what I was doing. His enormous 
balls fell against my cheek and chin and there was something so repulsive 
about haying his cock in my mouth that, in spite of the thrills drumming 
through my own blood, I was unable to continue sucking him after a moment or 
two. Instead, I let his cock slip from my mouth and used my hand on him 
instead, jerking on his prick until, shortly after I climaxed against his 
hot mouth, Vern spat a boiling load of thick come all over my hand and face. 

"Vern just didn't show up one day. I never did find out why. The rent was 
paid until the end of the month, I knew, and I had some money to last me 
till then if I didn't splurge. After waiting a whole day, I ventured out, 
and immediately got lost in the world of Hollywood dreams. I met someone who 
knew an agent, ended up getting more day-to-day work as an extra than 
anything, with a few modeling jobs thrown in, and started growing up. I had 
a lot of lovers, but as I found more and more men who were content to simply 
suck me off, I slowly stopped fucking at all, or fell back to that only as a 
last resort, or as a sort of payment. I was definitely finding out what I 
liked and didn't like ... 

And having found that out, Kristi Y-, the subject of the third case in this 
work, a portion of which is excerpted above, was "primed" either to seek out 
or to be discovered by those who shared her "likes" and interests, 
specifically her partiality toward oral-genital lovemaking. 

The central theme of this work is the cause, substance, and effect of the 
oral drive as it is observed in an individual, and the evolution of that 
drive into situations where groups are formed with the exclusive, or 
predominant, purpose of gratifying that drive. Much printer's ink has been 
utilized (and wasted) in taking sides on the morality and immorality, the 
legality and illegality, the normalcy and abnormalcy of both oral lovemaking 
and group-sex involvement. Yet such an approach to the questions of orality 
and plural sex appears to the author of this work to be a rather futile 
attempt to classify the unclassifiable, generalize On the basis of 
oftentimes contradictory traditional tidbits of hearsay, and to ignore the 
specifics of motivation, circumstance, and actual or potential effect, the 
only valid criteria that can be used as a barometer that will indicate the 
ethics in one, and only one, specific case. Consequently, the purpose of 
this work is not to discuss the vague and indefinable "ethics" of society in 
general, or even of a small community in particular, but rather to ascertain 
the ethics of the situations in question as they are revealed through the 
improvement or worsening of the central subject's life as well as the lives 
of those immediately involved in, or subsequently affected by, the act or 
acts in question. 

From the point of view of our heterogeneous society as a whole, both oralism 
and group sex remain highly controversial. Some say that the two are natural 
extensions of the human sexual instinct; others believe they are rightly 
labeled "perversions"-unnatural deviations from the sexual norm which are 
harmful to the participants. The central fault with the proponents of both 
views is that they try to pin an intrinsic valuation on acts that cannot be 
thus valuated. 

One can draw an analogy between oralism, group sex, or any other variation 
on sexual activity, and the act of ingestion, which includes both eating and 
drinking. For those who rebuff such an analogy by saying that there is no 
comparison between the two, it might be pointed out that both sexual 
activity and eating are indulged in because of basic drives, or hungers, and 
that the only reason that there are more crusading opponents against 
variations in sexual activity than there are opponents to eating with 
chopsticks or drinking through a straw is because man, primarily for reasons 
of natural elemental adversities (rain, snow, cold, wind, heat), was forced 
since prehistoric times to cover, in order to protect, as much of his body 
as was necessary and or Convenient, which included those organs that were 
not essential for immediate and unexpected utilization for survival-e.g., 
the hands to ward off an attack, the mouth to call for help, to converse, to 
eat, and to drink. No one will deny that were a time-study analysis made, 
the mouth would be found to be much more often used than the sexual organs 
in man's day-to-day living. The fact that eventually man began to look at 
his genital area somewhat askance can be easily understood if one accepts 
the following progression of events: concealment eventually begins to imply 
secrecy; secrecy is "naturally" interpreted by the naturally suspicious Man 
as an indication of threat or shame; there is usually no cause for shame 
unless there is something "bad" or "wrong" or "evil." There can be no doubt 
that had the mouth been not as essential for man's daily living, had it been 
concealed from view, eating, and or talking, would have been the central 
theme of debate amongst moralists, ethicists, psychiatrists, social 
scientists, and politicians, rather than sex-especially if the evolution of 
man had made it unnecessary for him to conceal his genital organs. 

Returning then to the analogy between sexual activity and eating, one can 
say that it would be acceptedly absurd to maintain that eating per se is a 
good or a bad activity. It would be furthermore ridiculous to maintain that 
sipping through a straw is "a natural extension of the human survival 
instinct" or that it is a "perversion" or "an unnatural deviation from the 
eating norm which is harmful to the participant." We cannot be justified in 
stating that eating is wrong because we learned that a man who had ingested 
a can of botulin-contaminated soup promptly died, neither can we say that 
eating soup is bad on the basis of the preceding incident. A great number of 
similarly analogous cases could be presented that would underline the 
absurdity of generalizations and sweeping condemnations or championings. 

If we attempt to analyze oralism and plural sex in vacuo, so to speak, we 
are forced by physiological facts to accept the irrationality of 
generalizations here as well. 

In the term oral sex, we are discussing two acts in the main: 
cunnilingus-the application of the mouth and its associated suborgans 
(primarily the lips and tongue) to the female genitals; fellatio-the use of 
these oral organs on the male genitals. These two practices constitute the 
most important and controversial aspects of oralism, although there are 
other manifestations of the oral impulse, including the kissing and oral 
caressing of any part of the body, particularly the breasts, the ears, parts 
of the neck, and other erogenous zones. Finally, even that most accepted 
caress-the kiss-is totally oral. 

It is generally accepted among sexual behavior experts that the mouth itself 
in an important erogenous zone There is some disagreement on whether it is 
equally sensitive in the male and the female, and there is a similar degree 
of argument whether this sensitivity is physiological or psychological. The 
usual explanation for the latter is that the erotic associations stem from 
the time the individual obtained his first nourishment by suckling on his 
mother's nipple, but there is little dissent to the belief that the mouth is 
capable of being "erotically stimulated." Tied to this factor is the ability 
of the mouth to stimulate erotically as well. It is a movable, muscled part 
of the facial anatomy and capable of sexual caresses in a number of ways. 

The utilization of the mouth in sexual play is known, therefore, to be 
capable of giving physiological pleasure in those cases where physiological 
reactions are not interfered with by psychological inhibitions, which should 
not be considered as a negation of physiological fact but rather as a 
conflict between basic physiological reactions and often artificial 
psychological ones. 

Does this imply that psychological resistance to accepting oralism and other 
variations on the basic sexual acts as normal invalid? The answer is 
negative. There can be no psychological resistance to anything unless there 
is an underlying cause for that psychological resistance, and it is the 
underlying cause that may be, or may not be, valid. 

Roderic Gorney, in his extensively researched work The Human Agenda, brings 
up a modern philosophy of behavior which is labeled the Fun ethic. He 
commences with a question: 

How ... in the realm of love is [the] exorbitant demand for happiness 
expressed? Most eloquently, in the increasingly pervasive application to 
eroticism of what has been called the Fun ethic. This standard places at the 
top of a person's list, not the worth of a human relationship, marriage or 
otherwise, but only the "fun" provided by an erotic experience. Through this 
inversion it contributes substantially to the erosion of a main support of 
identity, psychic intimacy with love. 

The basic fallacy of such an ethic is that it must, to work, place the 
individual's search for diversion-sexual or otherwise-and subsequent 
gratification above all else and everybody else. It is the utmost extreme of 
Ayn Rand'a objectivist ethics. Such a development can lead only to the brink 
of total anarchy where concern for the happiness or pleasure of others 
becomes nonexistent. 

Consequently, one has no choice but to discard both the puritanical ethics 
and the ethics of unrestrained liberalism when one deals with the basic urge 
of sexuality and all of its various manifestations, including orality and 
plural sex. One must accept the fact that neither repression nor total 
unbridling of the urge is the answer for all, at all times, and in all 
places. One must accept the fact that there can be only one valid 
determinant in the "rightness" or "wrongness"-or ethicality or 
nonethicality-of any sexual, or nonsexual, act, and that determinant, being 
based on motivation, circumstances, and effects of the act, has to encompass 
the individual and those involved in, or affected by, the said act. 

In addition to the question of ethics, the matter of psychopathology, if 
any, has to be considered. Here the decision-one that is not easy to 
make-has to be arrived at as to whether oralism or group sex, for example, 
is a normal or abnormal pursuit Of sexuality. The difficulty that has 
inadvertently weighed down a valid determination in this sphere even-a 
sphere that should, be considered as a scientific one-has been the influence 
of traditional outlook, religious beliefs, and tenets of law. Of course, the 
whole extent of the problem becomes apparent when one realizes that the 
tenets or codices of law-i.e., the legality or illegality of an act- have 
been, even in nations where a separation of church and state is recognized, 
intermeshed by history with religious proclamations, societal mores, and 
individualistic opinions made by those who had been too powerful politically 
or militarily for anyone to disagree with. 

Consequently, in the five case histories that follow, no reference will be 
made to the legal, moral, or-except to a very slight 
degree-psychopathological questions or problems. Rather, the study will 
attempt to limit itself predominantly to the ethics of the situation, as 
such ethics have been defined earlier in this introduction and as reflected 
in -the motivation, circumstances, and the aftereffects of oral and group 
sex acts. It is the opinion of this author that if none, of the three 
elements upon which the ethicality of an act are based adversely affected 
the happiness of the case subject or those involved with him, then the acts 
were ethical and beneficial to the development of the individual. If on the 
other hand, any one of the three elements did adversely affect the happiness 
(and here, again, the very real distinction between happiness and pleasure, 
i.e., emotions and physiological reactions, should be kept in mind) of 
anyone involved, then the act or acts must be defined, in that particular 
case, as unethical. 

There is no question that there is an idealization of man as a species in 
such an approach to ethics-some might even insist that it is an idealization 
beyond reason; however, until such a time when limitations are placed on the 
evolution of reason, the term "beyond reason" can not be taken as a 
meaningful one. 

 CHAPTER ONE: Out of the Mouths of Babes ... 

"Hey, quit being so fucking serious, will you? Just because this is a big 
deal interview, well, does that mean it can't be fun? You're acting like a 
sex club is something evil ... and it's not! It's a groove, a gas; shit, 
man, it's saving my life and my marriage. Is that anything to feel ashamed 
about? 

"Look at it this way. Anything that turns you on, and doesn't hurt anybody 
else, well, hell, that's got to be great. Look, I must smoke about five 
packs of cigarettes a day and I must consume at least a gallon of diet 
colas, tea, coffee, and booze every day. Now, you figure that out and that 
means my mouth is constantly busy. Right? So I'll bet health nuts would be 
appalled at that information ... screw 'em' It's my life, and my body, and 
if it makes me happy to do that to my body it shouldn't be anybody's 
business but mine. Right? And the same goes for a sex club, or swappers, or 
any of that stuff. If it makes the members happy ... it's nobody else's 
business, right? Now we could sit here and discuss deep, meaningful, 
Freudian implications until we both drop dead, but that wouldn't change 
anything. Or we could talk about cancer scares, but that wouldn't change 
anything either. You gotta do what you gotta do. As I said, if it doesn't 
hurt anybody else, who cares? 

"My first husband and I broke up after only three years of marriage. He was 
a nice guy and all that stuff, a good provider, yak and clack. But he was a 
real square in bed. He thought oral sex was a perversion! Are you ready for 
that? We had so goddam many arguments about it, and that constant hostility 
led to arguments about everything, that we finally agreed to cut it off. 
Nothing is worth being up tight about all the time. Nothing. Then I met 
Mark. Oh hey! I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me ... when I 
married the first time, I was a virgin. I'd read a few of the sex manuals 
and learned about oral sex, but I could never get my husband to cooperate 
with me, to even try it. But Mark was something else again. 

"I met him at a party. He told me he was a lawyer, that his specialty was 
corporate law, and what with one thing and another, he asked me for a date 
on the following night He was groovy looking, sort of the James Coburn type, 
and I agreed. If you can't bag H doctor, a lawyer's the next best thing. 
Right? They're both r gone a lot and they both make a lot of money. Crazy. 

"Mark picked me up at my apartment at 8:30 sharp the next evening, looking 
dapper in a dark blue suit with a red pinstripe and wearing a brightly 
colored paisley tie. Really slick. I like men who are sharp dressers. As for 
me, I know I'm not a raving beauty, but I've got a damned good figure and 
terrific legs, so I favor the mini and did the moment it hit the fashion 
scene. At that time, I'd already been divorced for about two years and had 
been sort of playing the field. Oh sure, I went to bed with a few of the 
guys, but I wasn't what you'd call promiscuous or anything. And dammit, 
every time I'd want to try out this oral sex stuff, the guy would look 
shocked as all hell and then I'd never hear from him again. We're living in 
a world of mental lepers, know that? 

"Anyway, Mark took me out to dinner at a very nice roadside restaurant up 
the coast, we danced, drove back to a small bistro not too far from my place 
and had a nightcap, and then he brought me home. He walked me to the 
elevator, came up with me to my door, and pulled me to him to kiss me 
good-night. Mark wasn't like the others ... he didn't hesitate or wonder 
whether or not I'd let him kiss me on the first date, or even if I wanted 
him to or not ... he wanted to, so he did! Now that's a man! And he knew how 
to kiss a girl, too. He didn't fool around. That tongue of his snaked right 
into my mouth and washed me out real good, his hands were strong and firm on 
my buttocks I could feel his dong through the material that separated us, 
feel it hot and twitching. And the next thing I knew, Mark had his hand up 
under my mini, working his fingers against the flimsy pantyhose crotch, 
tickling, my pussy hairs. Oh wow! That did it! I managed to break the kiss 
long enough to suggest that we get out of thehall and into my apartment 
before we got arrested. 

"As soon as we were inside, Mark began to kiss me again, and this time he 
managed to roll down the top of my pantyhose far enough to get his fingers 
right on my hot snatch. I could feel his strong warm fingers sliding all 
over my crotch, slipping in my hot juices. I was so fucking wet down there 
it was almost embarrassing! But the feeling he was giving me was wild and 
his fingers kept working my cunt, rubbing up and down, around and around, 
with a light but strong touch on my slimy pussy that was driving me nuts. I 
couldn't help shoving my hips toward his hand, grinding myself against his 
busy fingers, and I was about ready to go right out of my gourd if I didn't 
get fucked soon. 

"I don't remember exactly how, but the next thing I knew Mark and I were on 
my bed, both of us stark naked and he kept fingering my snatch, kissing my 
tits, and talking dirty things like how he was gonna fuck me, how he was 
going to take his big hot cock and shove it all the way up my cunt until I 
couldn't stand it anymore things like that. Oh wow! Did he turn me on 
talking like that! All the time that big whang of his was poking into my 
flesh against my leg, and he was finger-fucking me but keeping his thumb on 
my clitoris, pushing at it like a doorbell, and all I could do was squirm 
and writhe under his artful touch. When he wasn't talking dirty to me, or 
kissing my tits, he was shoving his tongue deep into my mouth and I could no 
longer resist my need to get really layed. I took his prick in my hand, 
feeling how hot and hard it was, and started to massage it, to pump on it, 
to get him so hot he'd have to fuck me properly. He had a beauty of a hard 
on, and I wanted that dong of his right up inside my cunt and fucking the 
holy hell out of my aching, lonely vagina. 

"As if I had him on a lead, I finally got Mark to get on top of me, and I 
guided his big cock toward the core of my passion, pressing my pelvis 
forward slowly so that I could feel how his cock filled my vagina, stretched 
that hole real nice, and gave myself up entirely to letting him fuck me. I 
could feel his engorged penis sliding in and out of me, in and out, almost 
effortlessly, feel the head of his prick, that bulbous ridge of it, edging 
its way inside of me, causing a wild friction on the walls and muscles of 
the vagina, feel how it slipped against each tiny ridge and crevice of my 
wet and hungry hole until the tip of his glans would gently strike against 
my cervix and his big balls would slap lightly against the cheeks of my ass. 
Mark kept nuzzling at my neck with his lips, giving me tiny bites and 
hundreds of tiny kisses, but never letting up on his fucking of me, his 
hands kneading at my breasts beneath his hairy chest. 

"Almost delirious with wanting to come, pushed my pelvis at him harder, 
yelling at him to fuck me hauler, harder, writhing and twisting my torso to 
get that great big hard cock of his all the way up inside of me. I threw my 
legs up into the air so that he could shove it into me real good, and doing 
that seemed to trigger Mark's own need because he began to piston into me, 
slamming into me hard. I could barely stand the exquisite pain and joy of 
being so royally fucked, of feeling my cunt so hot and ready that I could 
feel my juices running down the cheeks of my ass and the way his balls made 
a slapping sound against me. Then Mark started grunting, gasping out that he 
was going to come any second, any second, and hearing that, knowing that he 
would be popping off soon, really sent me into orbit. My cunt seemed to 
bloat up, beating and pulsing-with sensation, and finally I began to spasm 
over and over around Mark's throbbing cock even as it had begun to shoot its 
come into me in wildly thrilling, hot, spurts of semen. It was a glorious 
fuck-for both of us, I knew. 

"We rested afterward, smoking a cigarette. When I had the strength, I got up 
and made us both a drink. I felt very close to' Mark, like I'd known him for 
a very, very long time. I guess a good lay will do that for a gal ... you're 
grateful, sure, there's always that, but more important, you feel like a 
real woman, like you're fulfilled for a change. 

"'You're not going to believe this,' I told Mark as we lay in the dark, his 
arm under my head, 'but this is the first time I've ever gone to bed with a 
guy on a first date.' 

"'Oh, I believe it all right,' Mark said, and laughed. 'Your psyche would 
demand a degree of propriety under the usual circumstances.' 

"I-laughed. 'What's that mean?' 

"'It means, Liz, that there's a bit of the cockteaser in you ... you've got 
to give a guy the come-on and then stall him until you think he's suffered 
enough. Am I right?' 

"I had to think about it. 'Yeah d never paid any attention before, but yeah, 
you're right.' 

"Well, we started to talk. You know, the kind of talk you can only have when 
you're both satisfied, you've had a few drinks but aren't drunk, and it's 
late ... like you're the only two people in the world still awake in the 
night. I don't know how long we sipped' our drinks, toying with each other's 
bodies, and talking. But I found myself telling Mark things I'd never told 
anyone before, even about my first marriage and this funny business of 
nobody wanting to let me learn about oral sex. That last bit really cracked 
Mark up. He couldn't believe it. But I assured him, that it was quite true 
... that in this 'day and age, strange as it might seem, I couldn't get 
anybody who'd go down on me or who'd let me go down on him. So Mark sat up 
abruptly and told me that my worries were about to be over-forever. He made 
me go run the tub and take a bath, then he took one after me. I suggested 
that we bathe together, but he said it was one of the few things that turned 
him off, that it was bad enough to sit in his own dirt, but to have to sit 
in the dirt of two people was a disgusting idea to him. 

"Listen, who was I to argue? I finally found me a live one who was going to 
teach me what I'd been dying to try for years-who was I to argue a small 
point about taking a bath together! 

"Anyway, scrubbed and perfumed, I impatiently lay on the bed nursing my 
drink until Mark joined me. His dong was still limp, and from what I'd read 
in the sex manuals that meant my work was cut out for me. He lay down then, 
stretched out on his back with his arms folded under his head. 

"'There it is, Liz. It's all yours. Do your thing.' 

"I leaned forward, my hair falling across his abdomen as I began to examine 
his cock. It lurched a little when I touched it and I realized then that 
Mark had one helluva good cock on him. It was damned big, maybe five and a 
half inches from the base to the stem, and I marveled at how it stood away 
from his crotch hairs like a tree growing tall from the underbrush. I took 
my thumb and rested it along the underside of his prick, lightly tracing 
along what felt like a thin muscle running from the base of his shaft right 
into the ridge of its head. It was so smooth! Oh, the veins were beginning 
to bulge a little, but the glans was like velvet. I played with his cock, 
watching the veins swell, and dropped my fingers down to his-scrotum to 
tease his balls and tickle him there. By then, Mark was beginning to have an 
unavoidable reaction and I could hear his breathing getting harder and 
heavier ... he was beginning to squirm a little as his cock was slowly 
aroused. I brought my hand down around the base of his penis and gathered 
the skin into my fist, then began slowly to bring my fist up along, the 
shaft, forcing the skin to precede it and then Spill over the edge of his 
glans. Up and down, slowly up and down, I kept that up until I saw that he 
was emitting a small amount of sperm from the tiny hole at the tip of his 
penis. That really turned me on. 

"I slowly lowered my mouth toward his penis and let my tongue dart out to 
flick off the fluid at the tip of his ever-growing cock. I blew on it next, 
and saw how Mark's penis twitched and arched upward toward my mouth. And I 
could feel my mouth begin to salivate ... I could hardly wait to get that 
thing of his into my face! I took it slow and easy, though. I wanted to do a 
good job of it, I didn't want to blow it. Hey, that's funny. Get it? Blow 
it? Oh well, anyhow, I remembered the manual saying how sensitive a guy's 
balls are, so I brought my lips around them and sucked at them lightly, 
nuzzling the base of his cock, with my nose, occasionally letting my tongue 
flick about the shaft like a hot wet whip. That's when Mark really got hard! 
His dong must've been up to at least seven inches! Oh wow! 

"Even I couldn't stand it anymore. I wanted that great big cock of his in my 
mouth, I wanted to suck on it with just as much intensity as I'd wanted his 
cock to fuck me earlier in the evening. How does anyone ever explain the 
feeling of wanting to suck cock? It's like you've gotta have it, and that's 
all. Like the feeling when you've gotta have a drink of water or you'll die 
of thirst. Well, I finally took his burning dick and shoved the head of it 
into my greedy mouth, keeping my lips tight around the shaft so that it 
would feel as if he were sticking it up into my grasping hole. And as it 
entered my mouth, I could feel it get even bigger, pushing up against my 
throat while I played with his balls and tickled his anus. I encircled the 
shaft with my hand and rode it up and down with my mouth at the top, 
sticking my tongue as deeply into the little hole as I could, and creating a 
sucking action around the glans, nibbling at the ridge of it with my teeth. 
And it was then that I felt Mark trying to get me to change my position, to 
get me to turn around. Stilt, man, I Only needed the hint. My cunt was 
burning up, I was dying to know what it would feel like to have his mouth on 
my snatch, to feel a tongue on it, and my only worry was that I'd get so 
fucking carried away I might bite his cock! 

"So I turned around, never letting go of his cock, never quitting washing it 
with my' tongue, but now my cunt was in his face, my hot dripping cunt, and 
I was about ready to explode with wanting to find out what his mouth would 
feel like. But Mark was his own man, not to be rushed or told what to do. He 
began to run a wet finger up and down the crack of my ass while I was 
sucking on his cock, teasing my asshole with his finger and then letting his 
finger run down into my snatch, pretending to go up inside of my hole for a 
few seconds, then taking a couple of swipes at my clitoris so that even I 
could feel that my clit was getting a hard on of its very own. It felt wild. 
Mostly because I knew his face was right down there, right at my snatch! It 
was really wild. Mark would pinch at my clit a couple of times and nearly 
send me out of my skin, but I'd reciprocate by nibbling at his fiery cock. 

"And then Mark stopped foolin' around and took my hips with both his hands 
and brought my pussy right up to his face and begin to lick at it. Lick at 
it! Oh man! Do you know what that feels like? I damned near passed out. 

"Mark's mouth was really talented and his tongue was a work of art! He'd 
take long lapping strokes on my cunt, then dip into my hole and baby-fuck me 
with his tongue, and then come up and grab my clitoris between his lips, 
sucking on it, letting his tongue roll around and around the hard little 
clit until I thought I'd scream ... but he always knew when to quit, when to 
go back to lapping at my sopping snatch. What was great was that I could 
tell that Mark really dug sucking my cunt, that he really enjoyed sucking my 
hot box and swallowing all those juices that kept pouring out of me. And 
knowing that made me hotter, both for myself and also for his dong. Every 
time his tongue caressed my pussy, I sucked on his rigid cock with even 
greater pleasure and excitement. 

"Nearly in a frenzy with the thrill Mark was giving me, I worked even more 
feverishly to please his engorged cock. It didn't take long and he began to 
hump his thick rod into my mouth right up against my throat even while I was 
pushing my twat into his face, rubbing myself against his nose and his 
tongue. We were, by then, both sweating like animals. I could no longer 
prevent my orgasm and I think Mark knew it. Grunting savagely, chewing and 
licking and sucking at each other's genitals, I felt the first spurt of his 
semen splash against my throat, hot and sticky, thick like syrup, and he 
shot and he shot, again and again, while my orgasm convulsed my entire 
torso, flooding me with electric thrills, my hungry pussy clutching and 
jerking and grabbing. I'd never had an orgasm like that ever and I'll 
probably never forget it. It was the most fantastic experience of my life, 
and, needless to say, it's changed my life completely." 

Liz R-----, the subject of this case history, as the first half of her 
narrative suggests and the balance of which confirms, is a young woman going 
in a number of directions at the same time. Although she can in no way be 
considered as the typical American housewife (she is now married to Mark 
R-), she does manifest some of the typical problems that the "modern 
liberated women"- or the modern women thinking of "liberation"-find 
themselves facing or saddled with. 

To begin with, Liz R- has been married prior to her involvement with, and 
subsequent marriage to, Mark That first marriage had I failed. There are no 
specific indications as to the reasons for that failure. The marriage was 
childless. This suggests the possibility that the subject's oral 
compulsion-i.e., preference for cunnilingus and fellatio as opposed to 
regular coitus-has been with her for quite some time. Her outright refusal 
to delve into her childhood, adolescence, and postadolescence suggests that 
there was some early traumatic experience which precipitated her obsession 
with oral lovemaking. However, this preference for oral gratification is not 
the subject's only potential problem (the qualifying term potential is used 
here because Liz R-'s oral drive has not yet totally suppressed her desires 
for other forms of lovemaking). 

There is apparent, particularly in the first portion of her narrative, an 
overbearing inferiority complex which the subject strains to cover up by the 
utilization of what might be termed as a sexually aggressive vocabulary. 
This utilization is, in fact, so pronounced that one is almost incited to 
pursue the possibility that, on top of everything else, Liz R- is suffering 
from coprolalio, i.e., a mental condition in which a person obtains some 
sort of erotic gratification or stimulation through the use of sexually 
extremely frank-or "obscene"-language. The chances are, however, that this 
is nothing more than an attempt on the part of the subject to either appear 
"sophisticated" in the eyes of the analyst or to create a diversion from the 
problems which she is trying to conceal or suppress. In short, her rather 
stevedorish language is a defense mechanism. 

Yet, this very defense mechanism reveals-especially in her subsequent 
narrative, in which she brings up Joanna and Joanna's attraction to 
her-still another problem in the making, the problem of homosexuality or 
lesbianism. And the conflict in the making here should be quite obvious. In 
spite of the subject's superficial attempt to appear undisturbed by her 
attraction toward Joanna-her justification that as long as there is no 
"emotional involvement" with the other woman, as long as it's purely sexual, 
there will be no problem-she is, in fact, frightened by the idea of being a 
lesbian. It is up to the analyst to point out to her that she is basically 
bisexual, which, in itself, was recognized to be a nonpathological condition 
even by Wilhelm Stekel almost half a century ago. In his work titled 
Bi-sexual Love, he wrote: 

There are no monosexual persons! The heterosexual period stretches far into 
puberty. All persons are bisexual. But persons repress either the homosexual 
or the heterosexual components on account of certain motives or because they 
are compelled by particular circumstances and consequently act as if they 
were monosexual ... 

And added: 

Nature has created us bisexual beings and requires us to act as bisexual 
beings. The purely heterosexual is always a neurotic in a certain sense, 
that is, the repression of the homosexual components already creates a 
predisposition to neurosis, or is in itself a neurotic trait shared by every 
normal person ... 

The subject's basic problem, however, is not lesbianism, the fear of which 
she tries to magnify probably, again, to divert her psychoanalyst from his 
search for truth, nor is it her coprolalic manifestation or oral compulsion. 
It is rather a complex combination of these within what might be considered 
to be a framework of hypersexuality that is made the more acute by the 
jealousy that Liz R- experiences when she suspects Mark, her husband, to be 
sexually involved with one of his clients. 

Her reaction to this discovery is, in fact, neither acute nor unusual. 
Charles Samson Fr, in his The Sexual Urge: How it Grows or Wanes, pointed 
out the potential of jealousy in the following manner: 

Jealousy ... may manifest itself in both sexes as an anomaly of the instinct 
relating to sexual pursuit or attraction. Jealousy is a moral pain that may 
be legitimately caused by a wounded feeling, e.g., of love or 
anwur-propre--an attempt to touch a sacred possession; but it often appears 
without provocation, through a habit of suspicion, which is to some extent 
constitutional. "We are jealous, not because any motive exists, but because 
of a fault which lies within our nature." .. It is a true psychosis ... It 
is connected with nervous debility. It brings women more often than men into 
lunatic asylums; it is often, in fact, a form of insanity ... 

It is, in fact, jealousy on the part of the subject that prompts her and her 
husband Mark to join the primarily orally oriented sex, group. This 
"solution" to the problem might very well appear to be somewhat ludicrous to 
any monogamous-minded person; yet, to a great many of the modern, sexually 
"liberated" members of society, for whom sexual activity does not 
necessarily presuppose love, or emotional involvement, participation in 
group sex and mate swapping is considered to be "honest," whereas any 
surreptitious sexual activity is considered to be if not "dishonest," then 
at least "not Kosher." 

There can be no question that Liz R- is neither secure nor is apt to find 
what she' is looking for in the arrangement into which she has been drawn 
with Mark. The insecurity that she feels is manifested not only through the 
instance of her suspecting Mark of infidelity-and it is not clear from her 
narrative whether Mark had had, in fact, consummated an affair with his 
blonde "client" or not-but through her somewhat forced sexual frankness of 
narrative. It is possible that she envisages herself as a disciple of the 
recently highly touted Women's Liberation Movement; it is not improbable 
that her coarseness is an attempt to appear "liberated." If such is the 
case, then the juvenility of such an attitude must be branded as being 
nothing more or less than pathetic. It is analogous to a pubescent child's 
mistaken notion that lighting a cigarette is a sign of adulthood. 

Toward the close of her narrative, Liz R- tries quite hard to convince 
herself, or perhaps the analyst, that her and her husband's venture into the 
group-sex circuit has been the salvation of their marriage. Undoubtedly, 
their sexual extroversion has afforded them a lease on their marriage, it 
has eliminated the boredom that had apparently entered their married life, 
and it has provided the subject with an outlet for her hypersexuality. It is 
extremely doubtful, however, that either the subject or her husband will be 
able to find any lasting solution to what amounts to incompatibility in 
their marital relations. 

"Mark and I were married about eight months later. We shared several 
interests, our political views were close enough to avoid hate-and I don't 
care what the marriage experts say, you can't be a dove and be in love with 
a hawk!- and we were highly compatible sexually. To anticipate your 
question, yes, I still like to get fucked, but only as an added bonus. 
There's something about getting sucked off, while you've got a rock-hard 
cock in your mouth, that just can not be topped. 

"At first, we were blissfully happy together. Mark and I had intercourse-or 
more accurately, sucked each other off-at least once every night, and for 
the first several months, he was able to sneak home around lunchtime for a 
fast fuck. I was very busy making the adjustments of any new wife, plus the 
fact that we'd bought a condominium in a high-rise, so there were the usual 
problems of trying to blend his furniture with mine, of selling duplicate 
appliances (like who needs two refrigerators?), and in short, setting up 
house. Because Mark was so busy with his practice, he gave me carte blanche 
with our home; I could decorate it any way I wanted to, have furniture 
reupholatered, get the walls papered, anything that the budget would permit. 
Remarrying, of course, meant forfeiting my alimony, but Mark had a very 
comfortable income so I was not unduly hamstrung financially. There's so 
much to keep you busy at first. Mark was a man of many small routines. His 
socks had to be in the top left-hand drawer; if they weren't, it upset him. 
Handkerchiefs had to be folded in rectangular quarters, not squares. Dinner 
at six was to be served at six ... on the dot. And of course, as newlyweds 
with a new home, our curious friends had to be invited over for dinner so 
they could snoop. I tried to mix them usually, with one couple from his 
former life, and one couple from mine. That way, everybody had a better 
time, there were new faces, and nobody felt left out. 

"But gradually, very casually, Mark was showing a lessening interest in our 
sex life. I tried very hard to be an understanding wife, but there were 
nights when I thought I'd go insane if he didn't suck me, when I'd lie there 
in the dark with a pain in my groin from desire and listening to his soft 
snoring. I was becoming highly dissatisfied with our diminishing sex life, 
though I was perfectly happy in every other way. Or at least, until I found 
out what was going on! 

"We'd been married for a little over a year when, as was not unusual, Mark 
phoned me from the office one day telling me that I should go ahead and have 
dinner without him, that he had to meet with a client and would dine with 
him. He mentioned some nearby restaurant where I could reach him if anything 
urgent came up, as he always did, and I really didn't think anything about 
it. But later on, feeling rather mischievous I suppose, I decided to get all 
gussied up and surprise him at the restaurant-client or no client. I 
wouldn't stay long, just have a drink with them and then come home if they 
still had more business to discuss. When I got there, however, and before 
Mark spotted me, I saw that this 'client' was a very young blonde-too young 
to need a corporation attorney-and that my husband had one hand around her 
shoulder and the other looked suspiciously as if it were halfway up her 
crotch! 

"Hurt, cruelly disappointed, I stumbled out of the place before Mark could 
possibly see me. I think I was probably in a state of great emotional shock 
because I don't really remember too much about that evening. I returned 
home, I know that, but I can't seem to recall anything more about that 
evening. Mark has since told me that when he got home, I was sound asleep. 
That seems unbelievable to me, but at this point in our marriage, he has no 
reason to lie. Somehow I got through the next morning, made Mark his 
breakfast, and sent him off to the office. He had asked me if I was feeling 
all right, and I do remember telling him that I felt as if I were coming 
down with a cold. The rest of the morning is something of- a blur in my 
mind. I know that I bathed luxuriously, soaking for at least an hour in the 
hot soothing tub, that I chose my clothes with great care and dressed 
painstakingly, and that I went to a beauty parlor I'd noticed quite near 
Mark's office. It was just a little before noon when I glided through the 
imitation oak doors to his suite. I marched right past his receptionist and 
his secretary, straight into his lair. Fortunately, for everyone, I 
suppose-he was alone. He glanced up at me, his face breaking into a 
welcoming smile until he got a closer look at my expression. 

"'Don't bother to get up, Mark,' I said to him, walked straight in front of 
his face, then pulled up my skirt to expose my naked snatch. 'Suck it, 
buster. Suck it now ... before you're too tired to suck it later 'cause 
you've been shacking up with some teen-ager!' 

'"Are you out of your mind, Liz? Do you realize what you're doing?' 

"'If you're worried about anyone seeing us, Melvin Belli Jr., go lock your 
door, but you are going to make love to me and right now!' 

"Pale and trembling slightly, Mark eased himself out of his chair and 
crossed the room to lock the door. 'Now, what's this all about, Liz?' 

"That was a mistake. He should never have given me that opening because I 
told him-loud and clear. I screeched at him that I was at the restaurant the 
night before, saw what he was up to, and that I was damned sick and tired of 
leading a nun's life because he exhausted himself with other women. Oh, I 
made quite a scene, no doubt about it. To give you an idea of how loud I 
was, Mark fired the gals he had working for him about a week later-he was 
too embarrassed to look them in the eye. But at that instant in time, I was 
like a wild woman and nothing he said or did was going to stop me from 
getting my cunt sucked right then and there. And Mark must have sensed that 
it was my cunt or his practice because he stopped protesting and began 
soothing, placating me, telling me what a divine idea it was for me to come 
by the office so that we could have sex together, and he began teasing my 
cunt with his fingers, just the way he had on our first date; then unzipping 
his fly, he brought one of my hands down to caress his cock. I recall being 
somewhat startled to feel how hard it was, as if he meant what he was 
saying! He stretched out on the leather couch with his cock standing 
straight up into the air and guided me to come straddle his face with my 
enflamed cunt. The moment I felt his breath on my snatch, had his turgid 
cock near my lips, a kind of sexual frenzy overtook me. If I could have, I'd 
have clubbed him to death with his own prick, but instead, feeling his 
tongue begin to lave my tormented pussy, I reciprocated and began to suck 
his cock. He was damned lucky, I'll tell you that. One false move and I'd 
have broken the damn thing off for him! 

"I guess Mark's instinct for survival, the challenge I'd presented, and the 
knowledge that he'd been caught redhanded with the blonde the night 
before-well, all of these things must have more or less conspired to make 
our sexual union one of revenge rather than love. It was fierce in its 
intensity, and it was quick. I ground my pussy into his face, feeling the 
moist steam of my cunt upon his flesh, and I was not gentle with his balls 
and cock. I dug my nails into the flesh of his thighs, leaving ugly red 
half-moons upon his skin, and for the first time, Mark was brutal with me, 
savage in his sucking of me. His teeth were rough, and his hands mauled me 
... 'but by God! we had an orgasm that left us both panting from exhaustion. 

"I must have made a rather silly picture, sprawled out on the couch with all 
my clothes on, and my obviously recent wash-and-set hanging damply around my 
face. But then, no sillier than Mark. He finally got enough, strength to 
pull himself out from under me and went to the bar and fixed us both drinks. 
We were in his office until past three in the morning, but we let it all 
hang out that day-every single thing that was bugging us, our needs and 
fears. It was as if we'd just met, as if we'd really been strangers to each 
other all the time we'd known each other. 

"Mark explained why he was out with the blonde, and that, yes, he did 
sometimes 'stray,' but most of the time when he came home too tired to fuck, 
he really was just that-with no hanky-panky behind it. We both cried several 
times, revealing our true inner selves to each other, but we got it all out 
... every screaming need each of us had about sex, what we could or could 
not do about it, and-of paramount importance-where to go from there. 

"He then knew that I could not go as long as he could without sex and he had 
a choice-either give up his career or expect me to take on a lover. 
Naturally, both of these possibilities were completely out of the question. 
Yet we knew that we were good for each other in every possible way, that we 
did not want a divorce. Actually, it was Mark who first suggested-a sex 
club. Initially I was somewhat shocked, but we kept talking about it and the 
more we talked the clearer it became that a sex club was probably the best 
solution available to two people with our 'problem.' We agreed to try it. We 
had nothing to lose at that point. 

"Mark came home, about a week later, and said that he'd lined up the site of 
our experiment, that it was a very small group all of whom enjoyed oral sex 
enormously, and only married couples were permitted to attend. They rotated 
the couples every week, so that while the membership was large enough so you 
might never see the same couple for at least six months. Only four couples 
were ever at one meeting at one time. I didn't ask him how he'd found out 
about it; I didn't really care. I assume that if you're interested in such 
things, you can find out whatever you need to know without much trouble. 
And, naturally, I was very nervous at that first meeting. 

"It was held at a small hotel, very quiet and select sort of place, 
centrally located but not on a main thoroughfare. The meeting began at 9:00 
P.M., and Mark and I were there promptly. I went through all the usual 
'opening .night' jitters: was I wearing the right clothes? what would be 
expected of me? did they serve liquor and canapes? how would I react to 
seeing Mark with another woman? For that matter, how would he react to me 
with another man? and so on and so on. Quite typical, as I later learned. 

"It was a nervously wet palm I extended to the people we met, that evening, 
though they were exceptionally friendly and cordial, going to great lengths 
to make us feel comfortable Drinks were served and the other three couples 
chatted happily with us, speaking one moment about the most intimate sexual 
matters and the next about their kids having the flu. After about an hour of 
this sort of thing, I realized that the lights had been turned down very, 
very low; it was as dark as a bar that caters to married' men out on the 
town. And that's pretty damn dark unless your 'eyes have a chance to get 
accustomed to it. I was beginning to loosen up a little, talking to one of 
the husbands-Tom was his name, I think-when I felt gentle hands working at 
the zipper of my dress. I didn't protest ... that's what I was there for. 
And then I felt another pair of hands joining in the cause, kneading at my 
flesh as they went along. I was already hot and I knew it. For a second, I 
glanced quickly to find Mark, and I barely made out his naked ass as he 
pumped his big whang into some faceless woman. I didn't feel jealousy. 
Nothing even close to it. I felt more as if I'd been freed from some 
terrible weight, some confining restriction. Mark's screwing another woman 
right there in that room gave me every right to do whatever I wanted. And I 
gave in to the busy hands upon my body, let myself be lowered to the divan, 
and spread my legs feeling the juices of my snatch seeping slowly downward. 
Soon I felt large masculine hands massaging my breasts, and another pair of 
hands, teasing my pubis, spreading my thighs even farther apart, and pulling 
back the folds of my dripping labia, working at my hardened clitoris. Tom 
knelt before me, naked and with a monstrous hard on, but I couldn't quite 
make out the face of the man who was massaging my breasts so soothingly. 

"Then Tom leaned my torso back against the couch, and the other man was 
kissing me wildly, shoving his tongue deep into my mouth, still playing with 
my breasts, cupping them, massaging them firmly. I could feel his enormous 
penis pressing against my side, hot and throbbing and urgent. 

"While I licked my dry lips in anticipation of that big cock in my mouth, I 
felt Tom insert two fingers up inside of my hole and begin to finger-fuck me 
gently. It was a divine moment, this knowledge that I was having two men at 
the same time. I almost couldn't have wished for more, but then I felt Tom's 
breath upon my burning vulva, and then the firmly gentle laying of my 
engorged clitoris with a hot wet tongue. I groaned with sensuous pleasure 
and incredible delight. Tom's tongue was hot, probing, as he used his 
talented sucking mouth on my snatch-while another man kissed and fondled 
me-while finger-flicking me simultaneously. 

"As if in a stupor, I glanced again in Mark's general direction and dimly 
made out that they were then in a sixty-nine position, that his face was 
buried in her crotch and that she was sucking the living force out of his 
cock. The presence of that burning cock so near to my face, however, was 
just too irresistible for me' to even think about Mark. I twisted my body 
slightly, captured the rigid prick with my hand, and brought it to my 
breasts, capturing it in the warm flesh of my tits. The man gasped with 
pleasure and began to hump the imitation cunt I'd made with my breasts. And 
all this While, Tom was sucking on my cunt, nibbling at my clitoris 
delectably, and had by then inserted another finger into my steaming hole. 

"All around me I heard the moans and groans of sexual pleasure, heard the 
sounds of sex, and smelled the heavy musk odor of intense physical sexual 
heat. It was maddening! As much as I was enjoying Tom's sucking my cunt, I 
wanted a hot cock in my mouth-and quickly. I slipped down a little farther 
on the couch and on the next upward stroke of the unknown prick, I captured 
the huge member with my waiting mouth, tasting the semen it had already 
issued, feeling the monstrous member filling my mouth, stretching my lips, 
and with an increasing pistonlike stroking, slamming toward the back of my 
mouth, against my throat. 

"I heard Tom-or felt him, really-begin to moan into my cunt and I knew that 
he was haying his own orgasm ... hoping some woman had sucked him off I 
didn't want to think that he'd had to jack himself off when there were so 
many waiting mouths around. His groans into my snatch triggered my own 
release, and while I pulled on the unknown prick, sucked on it, worked it 
with my tongue and my lips, I began to have my own orgasm. It started around 
my shoulders-.--really-and the tingling, enervating sensation rushed 
downward to center on my clitoris and send my entire vulva into great 
spasms, wracking, heaving spasms of orgasm. I felt the first spurt of come 
hit the back of my throat with my own first groan of release. 

"What's beautiful about these sex clubs, besides new faces and new genitalia 
to play with, is that you can get sucked or do 'the sucking many times in 
one evening. It isn't just a question of your own spouse being able to do it 
again, because there are several men, and they don't all come at the same 
time-at least not after the first round to take the edge off. And I've even 
developed a taste for cunt-though, frankly, it's not my preference. 

"Well, that's not quite entirely true. There is one wife, Joanna, who really 
turns me on. Enough so that it worried me 'a little, and I'm glad that we 
rotate couples so that I don't have a chance to be with her so much that I'd 
risk really falling for her emotionally. I don't know. She could eventually 
prove a sort of problem. I'd resisted making love with Joanna for many 
months. You know how it is. It's one thing to know you're tucking someone 
just for the fun of it; but when you meet someone who just turns your guts 
to jelly-that can be dangerous. Then you're talking about emotional 
involvement. I don't know why one person should freak another more than 
someone else does; I don't think anybody knows for sure other than that 
catchall term, chemistry. I've not mentioned this to Mark, frankly. I don't 
know what I'd say to him anyway: 'Hey, guess what? I think I could fall in 
love with Joanna'? There's just something about her that makes me feel like 
I'm standing on hot coals, something piercing and magnetic, like being so 
mesmerized by a plane's propeller that you walk right into it and get sliced 
to ribbons. Yeah ... that's what Joanna's like. She's a threat I can't 
resist. Yet, I try. I do. She's married too, but they have kids. It's not as 
if we were all teen-agers with our first crush; we're responsible adults who 
are working out our marriage problems in the most practical way possible. 
Maybe if I'd gone down on Joanna the first time I spotted her, this whole 
thing wouldn't have gotten so blown out of proportion in my head. Now, my 
nerves are like eggshells whenever she's near me. So far, she hasn't pushed 
me about it ... but I can tell that she knows, she senses how attracted I am 
to her. 

"The first time we made it together, and that was just a couple of months 
ago, it was almost fated-we were the only two left out of the entire four 
couples who were still horny and still had the strength left to do something 
about it. Even Mark had conked out on the couch. It was like some kind of 
bizarre marathon Joanna and I had going between us. We just weren't ready to 
quit lovemaking and there wasn't anyone left. She was lying very near to me 
on the thick rug, and before I really realized what was happening, she had 
leaned over and kissed me with such 'a dominant vigor that it was almost 
like a man's kiss. My entire body suddenly felt charged again, vibrant with 
sensations, and she continued to kiss me, running her soft hands across my 
abdomen, my aching breasts hungry for her mouth to kiss them. My own hands 
seemed to have a will of their own, wandering delightedly across the curves 
and valleys of her magnificently smooth body. Joanna has a body that begs to 
be loved; full and ample, yet not an inch of fat on her. She makes Venus 
look like a matronly slob! 

"Finally, she broke the kiss and began to tongue my ears, my neck, her hands 
playing with my breasts while she licked my arms, my belly, the backs of my 
knees, and the insides of my thighs ... maddeningly near to my vulva. From 
time to time, she would draw her body back along my own, pushing her breasts 
against mine, and kiss me again, letting her expert tongue rove 
knowledgeably inside my mouth. Finally she slowly slid down my body, kissing 
me and touching me everywhere, down to my dripping and waiting cunt. I moved 
slightly, giving her greater access, and watched her as she knelt before me 
between my legs, running her fingers up and down my burning snatch. I was 
ready to be loved yet again, anxious to feel her marvelous mouth licking at 
my pussy. Her own slickness glistened between her legs as she brought her 
face downward, closer and closer to my feverish cunt, and I lay back then, 
closing my eyes to await the first touch of Joanna's knowing mouth upon my 
snatch. 

"I felt her breath first, hot and rapid; then I slowly realized that her 
breasts were resting upon my thighs and that was an incredibly warm and 
cushioning feeling-though why I should have thought it was any different 
than any other woman's, I don't really know. I'd been made love to by women 
before ... but not like Joanna. Then she kissed me softly upon my twitching 
clitoris-sweetly, lovingly, and tenderly. And then she began to wash my 
sticky cunt with her tongue; beginning from my rectum she brought the flat 
of her tongue up slowly all the way back up to my still-sensitive clit. 
You'd have thought that I'd have been all sucked out, too sensitive to 
endure yet another sucking. But I wasn't. Her hot tongue became a scoop and 
she darted in and out of the folds of my cunt, sampling the drying fluids of 
our passion, occasionally moaning into my fat vaginal lips. I was unable to 
suppress a sharp intake of breath at the divine sensation she was providing, 
and she reached up both of her hands and began to caress my breasts again as 
she lovingly washed my cunt with her tongue. 

"Unable to just lie there, doing nothing with my greedy mouth, I finally 
maneuvered myself into a sixty-nine position with Joanna and avidly thrust 
my face right into her sopping cunt. I suppose there's something rather 
narcissistic about two women going down on each other, but I. felt that 
every time I licked at her clit, or darted my tongue up into her vagina, she 
was doing the same thing to me. 

"I really don't know how long we made love to each other-it seemed 
gloriously endless. Sucking slowly, calmly, and finger-fucking each other, I 
had a great sense of euphoria and knew that with the orgasm Joanna would 
give me, I would become sated; I relished her cunt almost as much as a cock, 
and in a strange, curious way, perhaps even more-but in a different sort of 
way. What helped, of course, was that Joanna perfumed the insides of her 
thighs and that was terribly stimulating; and I don't know what kind of a 
douche she uses, but her cunt is the sweetest-tasting thing I've ever had in 
my mouth! It's kissy and sucky, not just hot pulsing flesh. There is 
something terribly desirable about her snatch, something that just makes me 
feel that I'd like to leave my face there forever and suck away my life. 
It's hard to explain, but whatever it is, Joanna's got it. Every little 
indentation and fold of flesh was a heady delight to nibble at, to lick or 
suck. She kept her crotch closely cropped, and that helped, too-you didn't 
have to keep pushing pubic hairs out of the way to get to her cunt, and it's 
nice to know that you won't have those stubborn curly hairs caught between 
your teeth when it's over. 

"One of the guys must've gotten all hot watching us 'cause the next thing I 
knew, my hips, were being pulled upward and I was on my knees. I still had 
my face buried in Joanna's snatch, and I could feel her tongue still on my 
clitoris, but now there was the added bonus of feeling a big cock trying to 
work its way up into my snatch. Why the hell he picked my cunt instead of 
Joanna's, I don't know. Maybe he could tell that I wouldn't let go of her 
pussy no matter what anybody did! 

"But it was the wildest fucking yet! To know that you're getting sucked by a 
thrilling woman's lips, and you've got a great big hard cock up your vagina, 
while a)J- the tune you've got your mouth wrapped around a delicious pussy 
... oh wow! I began finger-fucking Joanna in rhythm to how I was getting 
fucked, and we all squirmed together in unison, humping and grinding 
together like one organism. I don't know how the hell Joanna was able to 
continue sucking me with that huge dick up my cunt, but she did. That big 
tool was sliding in and out of my sopping snatch like a precision 
instrument, spreading the walls of my vagina and filling up my hole to 
perfection even as I could feel Joanna's mouth working on me. I dimly 
realized that she was licking at the guy's cock and balls at the same time 
and that when her hands weren't caressing my tits, they were cupping his 
balls or kneading his ass. I could feel her hole expanding with her passion 
and I slipped another finger up inside of her; finally I had four fingers up 
her vagina and I could feel her slick juices beginning to form a sort of 
crust around my knuckles, sort of like how a facial mask makes your skin all 
taut.. It was the most divine screwing and sucking imaginable, and while I 
finger-lucked her, sucking on her cunt, I also spread the cheeks of her ass 
and with my other hand gently stuck my index finger up her rectum. She was 
so hot I could've fallen in. Her ass was almost as hot and ready as her 
vagina! And I could tell by the way she humped and writhed beneath me that 
she was really grooving with getting it in her ass at the same time. Like I 
had every one of her holes plugged, getting it fucked or sucked or both. 

"Of course, it couldn't last forever. As I felt her rectum begin to pucker 
at my finger, felt her vaginal ring begin to grab at my fingers, I knew she 
was coming ... and that was enough for me. I began to push against the cock 
to let him know it was now or forget it. I felt his hot sperm gushing into 
my cunt even as I spasmed around his dong, a great big pulsing creature, my 
clitoris leaping within Joanna's mouth, and her cunt and ass clutching and 
gripping at my fingers, her clitoris bobbing against my lips and tongue. 

"And that was it for me for that night. I let myself just fall in a heap and 
almost instantly fell into a deep, satisfied sleep. 

"Mark and I have been very pleased with our lives since we joined the club. 
He gets new girls to luck whenever he wishes, and doesn't have to worry 
about telling me lies, or getting caught, or a divorce ... and I never have 
to worry about getting enough sex just because Mark's tired. In fact, if 
anything, since we joined the club, Mark has tuned into a regular stud-it's 
as if eating creates an appetite for more. 

"Yes, of course, Joanna might prove to be a delicate matter for me, but I'm 
sure that I'll be able to handle that when and if it ever really becomes a 
problem. 

"Sex clubs may not be everyone's cup of tea, but they've worked miracles for 
Mark and me. I don't think we could've stayed married without our little 
group sessions!" 

Liz R--- is absolutely right in her last statement; she and her husband 
couldn't have stayed married without their involvement with what she refers 
to as their "little group sessions." The latter, however, cannot be 
considered as anything more than temporarily supporting crutches that will 
let both the subject and her husband down once these same Sessions become 
commonplace and unfulfilling. 

 CHAPTER TWO: The Motto 

"Have you ever gotten to the point where you get sick and tired of sticking 
your cock into the same goddamned cunt? 

"Well, that's the way I was feeling along about last March. It wasn't as 
though I didn't love Susie. Hell, love means a lot more than just wanting to 
luck somebody. At least to me it does. 

"But Susie sort of had this idea that since I wasn't as interested in 
fucking as I had been on our honeymoon, that I didn't love her anymore. And 
she got to be sort of a bitch on the subject. So bad, that at times, I just 
didn't feel like going home anymore. But when you've got three kids that you 
love, and a wife that you love, and a house that needs to be paid for, you 
try to work problems out instead of just rebelling against them. 

"We were in bed one night-Susie and I-when she moved over against me. To 
tell you the truth, I'd had a lousy day at work, and I was bone tired. I 
just didn't feel like fucking around. But I half-heartedly responded to her 
feeling around on me. But then the thought came into my mind: I was faking 
being excited, and why in the hell should I have to fake anything at all 
with my wife. Why not talk over what I was, or better wasn't, feeling? 

"Susie sensed my preoccupation and she moved back to her side of the bed. 
'You're just not interested anymore, are you?' she asked. And her voice 
sounded so goddamned sad that she made me feel like a heel. 

"But here was my chance to bring our problem out into the open. I turned to 
her. 

"'Susie,' I asked. 'Do you remember the first time we fucked?' She nodded. 

"'Remember how excited we both were?' I continued. And the thought of that 
first screw with Susie got me all sort of excited. It had been so good, so 
wonderful, that I'd never had anything to compare it with. 'Well, let me 
tell you something,' I added. 'I love you just as much now, or more, than I 
did that night we first screwed around.' 

"And I meant what I was saying. Susie and my first fuck hadn't been an 
'in-the-sack-ten-minutes-after-we-met' luck. We'd been going together for 
almost ten months, and had already agreed to get married, before she let me 
stick my prick in that gorgeous cunt of hers. So when I said I loved her as 
much as I did then, it meant something. 

"I think she realized that because all of a sudden the pouting look left her 
face. She looked at me and moved a little closer. 

"'Is this all leading up to something?' she asked, and I could tell by her 
voice that she was willing to talk about our problem. 

"'Yeah,' I answered, still a little hesitant to say what I wanted to. The 
last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt her. 

"'Well, go ahead,' she said. 'Let's get it out in the open.' 

"I took a deep breath and started talking. 'The truth is, Susie,' I said, 
'I'm bored. Sexually bored. And that doesn't mean I don't love you. It just 
means that I'd like to have some different experiences, some kicks. I want 
both of us to have them. You must be a little bored with me by-this time, 
too.' 

"Sure enough, she started to cry. But I got her out of that fast. And after 
a reasonably short time, I got her to admit that she wasn't all that excited 
about my fucking her either. She just had always thought that love meant 
wanting to screw all the time. I got her out of that idea right off. 

"Eventually, though, we- got around to talking about the real problem. 
'What's your solution?' she asked. 

"Again I took a deep breath. 'I think,' I said, not knowing how in the hell 
she'd take it, 'we ought to include other people in our sex lives.' 

"You would have thought I'd hit her in the face with a tire jack. She just 
stared at me. Then, instead of crying like I thought she'd do, she started 
to laugh. 'You mean "swapping",' she said matter-of-factly. 

"'I don't know what I mean,' I said. 'It's just that some guys at work are 
all the time talking about them and their wives fucking around with other 
people, and -they say it helps them at home. They don't fuck as often, but 
when they do, they want to.' 

"Susie got out of bed. Marched out, as a matter of fact. For a couple of 
seconds I thought she was going to leave the bedroom, walk out of the house, 
and never be seen again. But that wasn't what she was up to. 

"She went to the dresser drawer and pulled out a newspaper. Then she came 
back to the bed. She handed it to me. It was a copy of an underground 
newspaper that came out of Los Angeles, and the paper was opened to the 
personal ads section. 

"'Look at the third ad down in the fourth column,' Susie said. I threw her a 
suspicious look and then looked for the ad she was talking about. 

"'I bought the paper last week,' she explained before I could locate the ad. 
'I just wanted to see how freaky Los Angeles was.' 

"Susie's interest in Los Angeles stemmed from the fact that we were heading 
out there for our vacation in just three weeks. Actually, it was more of an 
obligation than a vacation. My mother and father had retired out there, and 
we were going to take the kids out to visit them. 

"I found the ad. 'French Culture Club (and we don't mean paintings or 
cooking) has openings for broad-minded couples.' Weekly get-togethers. 
Visitors to the Southland welcome.' Then an address was given. 

"'That means they suck,' I said to Susie. Christ, already, just from reading 
the ad, my cock was getting hard. 

"'I know that,' Susie said. 'I thought it was interesting, but I didn't want 
to say anything.' 

"Well, the result was we talked for another hour about whether we wanted to 
try the 'French Culture Club' when we were in Los Angeles. The decision was 
affirmative; in fact, affirmative to the degree that I had to hoist my ass 
out of bed and write a letter that very night. 

"And then, brother, I got back in bed and fucked Susie for what seemed like 
four hours. We hadn't had a luck session like that in years. 

"'See,' I said, when we finally were beat, 'it's working already.' 

"'I'll say,' Susie said, and grinned as wide as she could. 'I think my 
pussy's going to be sore tomorrow.' 

"I grinned hack. 'You say the nicest things, baby,' I said. We both laughed 
and finally went off to sleep. 

"An answer from the FCC came in just ten days. It came in the form of a nice 
letter from a guy named Dave H-. He was, he said, the president of the club. 
And, he added, he would be glad to introduce both of us to the club. There 
was, though, a sort of initiation that new people had to go through, whether 
they intended being members for one week or for the rest of their lives. 

"Dave concluded with the statement that if we were interested we should call 
him when we got to Los Angeles. And finally, a postscript said that their 
club was dedicated to the arts of the tongue. If we wanted to luck the 
standard old cock-in-the-pussy method, we had to save that for at home-or 
find another club. 

"Susie and I talked the situation over and agreed that since we both liked 
to use our tongues on each other, it might be a real kick to use them on 
other people. 

"'And,' Susie added. 'It's sort of nice reserving outright fucking for when 
you're alone. I mean you keep something for yourselves.' 

"It was all set then. We'd call as soon as we hit Los Angeles. Mom and Dad 
would handle the kids white Susie and I were out licking and sucking. 

"Let me tell you, the ride to California was the longest I'd ever taken in 
my life. Or at least it seemed to be. Or maybe I was just that anxious to 
get to Los Angeles. And the kids seemed extra noisy. All the time, noisy. I 
kept wishing I'd brought a rubber hammer along. 

"But finally, we passed the border into California and I knew 'we were 
close. We only had the Mojave Desert and the huge sprawling suburbs of Los 
Angeles to get through. 

"Of course, before we could get to the FCC, we had to go through the family 
routine. You know, the kissing and the long bull sessions about what 
everybody back home was doing. It was enjoyable, and it was great seeing the 
folks again, but if the truth be known I was anxious as hell to get on the 
phone and contact good old Dave. 

"Finally, two days after -we arrived I managed to get off by myself and to a 
phone. I was sweating like hell while I was dialing Dave's number. It rang 
five times before it was answered. And Dave didn't answer. His wife did. 

"I didn't know whether to say what I was calling about or just leave my name 
and tell her I'd call back. I didn't know if she knew what was going on or 
not. 

"But the woman took care of that. After I stuttered around for a while, she 
laughed, 'You're calling about the FCC, aren't you?' 

"'Yeah,' I answered. 'Is it all right to talk?' 

"'For heaven's sake,' the woman, whose name was Katy, said, 'you act like 
we're doing something illegal.' 

"'Isn't it?' I asked. 

"Katy laughed. 'I guess it might be,' she said, 'but I don't think anybody's 
about to bother us.' 

"Her tone of voice settled me down. I explained that I had sent the letter 
and Dave had invited this call. 

"'I know all about it,' Katy said. 'And Dave gave me this message for you. 
You and Susie are to be at our house tomorrow night at eight o'clock. And be 
prepared to, be initiated.' Then she laughed again. She sure as hell was 
happy about things. 

"I took the address and directions on how to get there. I was still nervous 
as hell when I hung up. But I wasn't alone. When I got back to the house and 
told Susie that everything was set, she started to shake right off. 'You 
sure we ought to go through with this?' she asked. She was having a case of 
cold feet. 

"'If we don't at least try it,' I told her, 'we'll probably regret it all 
our lives. At least if we try it we'll have it out of our systems. And who 
knows, it might be great.' 

"That was the front I put up, but the next night when I pulled the car in 
front of Dave and Katy's house, I was even more nervous than I'd been the 
night before. 

"Susie was sitting right next to me, her arm wrapped around mine. Just as I 
was ready to get out of the car, she looked up at me. 'Kiss me once first, 
Steve,' she said. 

"I don't know what I was expecting, but after we rang and the door was 
opened, I was glad we came. Dave and Katy turned out to be damned 
good-looking people. Susie and I had discussed the possibility that 
everybody in the club might be old and fat, and that would be a hell of a 
turnoff. But Katy was one damned fine-looking woman. More full-bodied than 
Susie, but good-looking. She was the type of woman you'd call stacked. And 
she had beautiful, shoulder length auburn hair. The kind you just like to 
run your hands through while you're running your tongue over a big set of 
tits and into a nice, warm, juicy cunt. 

"I could tell that Susie wasn't disappointed either. Dave was more than a 
decent-looking guy. 

"'Nobody else will be here until nine,' Dave said. 'We thought it'd be good 
to get you, here early so we could get acquainted. And to get a couple of 
drinks under both your belts.' 

"Both Katy and Dave were so damned nice and easygoing that my nervousness 
sort of melted away. I liked both of them, and was slowly warming up to the 
fact that we'd be switching partners in less than an hour. 

"And as I looked over at Susie, I knew from the way her conversation was 
getting more and more animated that she was feeling the same. 

"I kept glancing at my watch while we were sitting there talking and 
drinking. Finally, after my fiftieth glance, Katy laughed. 'Are you nervous 
or just anxious" she asked. 

"'Both,' I admitted. 'I feel like a kid who's never had a fuck.' 

"Finally, the doorbell started ringing and people started showing up. By 
nine-thirty, there were twenty people in the room, including Susie and 
myself. And they were a pretty good-looking group of people. Course, there 
were a few weeds in the garden, but not enough to bother anybody. 

"After everybody had been served a drink, Dave stood up and made a little 
speech. Susie and I were introduced. Dave told us to stand up and we did. 
We'd been told earlier that part of the initiation was that we had to do 
anything anybody told us-anybody. 

"So Susie and I stood up, both feeling sort of sheepish. And then the next 
thing we were told to do really threw both of us. 

"'You might as well get out of- those clothes,' Dave said. 'So we can get a 
good look at you.' 

"Now I'd never stripped in front of a mixed group in my life. I mean, at 
least a mixed group that was assembled for only one thing: sucking. But I'd 
been told to do it, and if I wanted to be in the ball game, I had to obey 
the rules. 

"I looked at Susie and knew she was feeling the same way I was. And when she 
saw me reach for my belt buckle, she started the long, hard trip to total 
nudity. 

"'We'd like to see a good old-fashioned sixty-nine between you two,' Dave 
said when Susie and I were down to the buff. I have to admit that I had a 
hard on already. 

"I walked over to Susie and took her in my arms. I kissed her hard, forcing 
my tongue into her mouth. That always loosened her up a little. Then I 
started to slide slowly down her body, letting my tongue run all over her 
neck, her breasts, down her belly, lower, until I nuzzled into her pubic 
hair. And then I reached up and spread her legs far enough so that I could 
get my tongue to her cunt lips. I ran my tongue over them, feeling the 
wetness. Susie was already excited. 

"Then I stood up. Susie started in on me. Her tongue washed over my chest, 
teasing the nipples, then down my belly, into the hair, and then, wham! she 
took my cock into her mouth. All the way. She got a round of applause from 
the crowd for that. They were attentive. 

"She eventually stood up and we grabbed each other once more before getting 
down on the floor in a sixty-nine position. 

"I made the first move. I stiffened my tongue and forced it as far as I 
could up into Susie's cunt. She moaned and twisted on my tongue and then 
reached for my cock with her mouth. 

"It was amazing how goddamned easy it was to give head in front of people. 
You weren't even aware they were there after a short time. Susie sucked on 
my cock, licking my balls, sucking on them gently, running her tongue down 
on that soft area between my balls and my asshole, and then back to the 
cock. All the way down the throat. 

"And I wasn't any slouch either. Susie had the greatest tasting cunt in the 
world. I already told you she was juicy from excitement. Well, the more I 
licked and sucked on her cunt, the wetter and the juicier she got, and the 
more excited. 

"I alternated on her snatch, first ramming my tongue up into her, moving it 
around as much as possible, then pulling out and very gently grabbing her 
clit with my teeth. Just a gentle bite or two, followed by a good washing of 
her cunt lips with my tongue. She was really enjoying it. And when I moved 
farther back on her and started to tease her puckered little asshole with my 
tongue, she just about went out of her skull. And it gave her an idea. 

"The next time she was working down from my cock to my balls, to that tender 
little area down there, she went still farther. She rimmed my ass. Bigger. 
than hell she rimmed my ass. Didn't stick her tongue in or anything like 
that, but she licked the outside. It was a wild feeling. I think I enjoyed 
the idea that she'd do it to me more than the actual feel I got from the 
rim. 

"I was just getting into the swing of things when Dave sort of pulled us 
apart. Let me tell you, he had trouble getting us to stop. 

"The initiation so far wasn't too bad, and the fact is it never did really 
get rotten or anything. Just exciting. 

"The next thing on the agenda was for Susie and me to give head to two of 
the people in the room. Total strangers. Or at least almost total. Our first 
venture in the game. 

"Dave, as president, claimed the 'honor' for himself and Katy. That didn't 
bother me one bit. I'd been champing at the bit since I'd been there to 
start in on that beautiful body of Katy's. 

"The whole group moved to the master bedroom, where there was the biggest 
bed I'd ever seen in my life. Honest to pete, it was huge. It made even a 
king-size bed look small. It had to be custom-made. 

"Katy stripped down and sat on the end of the bed. 'Novice,' she said, 'lick 
my pussy.' 

"Christ, I just about shot off when she said that. I moved toward her and 
got down on my knees. She was sitting there with her legs spread, her pussy 
wide open for my tongue. 

"I didn't waste any time. I shoved my tongue right up into the neat little 
hole. I felt the muscles of her cunt grip at my tongue. Christ, she was 
talented with that cunt of hers. 

"After I'd washed my tongue all over her pussy, she pushed my head away and 
boosted herself up on the bed. She laid flat out and with a hand gesture 
indicated I should get busy. 

"Before I got back to licking and sucking on that full, lush body, I glanced 
over at Susie. She was hard at work on Dave. He, too, had stripped off his 
clothes and was lying on his back on the bed, his hands behind his head. 
Susie was leaning over him, working like hell with her tongue on his balls, 
on his cock, up his belly. She looked like she was having a ball. 

"But I had action of my own, so I got started. I was determined that I was 
going to do such a good job of eating out Katy's cunt that she'd do nothing 
but come and then come again. 

"I licked, I sucked, I kissed and bit. Everything. And Katy moaned and 
groaned and twisted around on that bed like she was having the time of her 
life. 

"It took me about ten minutes of sucking to get her first rocks off. She 
moaned louder and I worked harder, moving as fast as I could at her cunt, 
with my teeth on her clit. Then sucking on the clit until she arched her 
back, moaning like somebody was killing her. She grabbed my head and mashed 
her cunt against my face. I worked my tongue furiously in her until her 
whole body shuddered. Wave after wave went through her body as she had a 
really giant come. I was so damned proud of myself I wanted to stand up and 
accept a medal. 

"But I wasn't done with the initiation yet. And neither was Susie. Not by a 
long shot. We licked and sucked on so many people, and in turn got licked 
and sucked by so many other people, that when we headed home, we were the 
two most tired, but happiest, couple in the world." 

Undoubtedly one of the most common expressions that one hears in the modern, 
helter-skelter, streamlined, rat-race times is the complaint: "I'm bored." 
It is often veiled in other terminology ("It's been a long week-and it's 
only Monday"; "What time is it?"; "It's a drag": "I wish we could go 
somewhere [we haven't been]"; "Yawn!"), but the meaning is unmistakably the 
same. 

The reasons for such seemingly universal ennui and tedium can be probably 
honed down to no more than two in number, into which all the proffered 
excuses must invariably fall. The first reason is that within a system where 
the ethic is one of Darwinian "survival of the fittest," or "dog eat dog," 
the average man or woman has little time for anything other than struggling 
to survive; the member of such a system cannot afford to do anything other 
than try to make a living, and more often than not he is making a living by 
doing something he is totally disinterested in. The second reason is that, 
again, within such a system where specialization is considered to be the 
prime "survival weapon"-with the wages received being the "ammunition"-a 
man's sphere of interests is perforce limited to stringing telephone cables, 
digging ditches, editing material that deals with nothing other than the 
various functions and dysfunctions of motorcycle carburetors, selling 
brushes, or balancing financial statements at a pet-food factory, to list 
but a few "specializations." And this compartmentalization of "interests" 
and "knowledge" reaches even into the arts and sciences: there are art frame 
"specialists" who know nothing about art, there are ad copy "writers" who 
have never read a book in their life, there are ballet slipper designers who 
have never seen a ballet, there are poets, and "poets," and "limerickers"; 
there are optometrists, occultists, and opticians, there are 
ear-nose-and-throat specialists and dermatologists and proctologists. There 
are splinters and wedges of men galore; there are very few well-rounded, or 
"multiinterested," individuals who have no tithe to get imbedded in the 
morass of boredom, who cannot get so imbedded, because they are too busy 
rolling rapidly over boredom froth one interest to another, and still 
another. 

J. C. F. von Schiller commented in his Die Jungfrau von Orleans (Joan of 
Arc): 

Against stupidity the very gods Themselves contend in vain. 

Almost a century later, Nietzche, in his The Antichrzst, paraphrased 
Schiller. He wrote: "Against boredom even the gods themselves struggle in 
vain." 

Equating boredom with stupidity might be somewhat harsh-particularly in 
cases where boredom is concurrent with the performance of duties essential 
to the previously mentioned survival-however, in cases in which boredom is 
the state of oppressing blankness that fills one's leisure time it would be 
neither harsh nor false to equate boredom with ignorance. 

Among the first recorded words of the subject of this case history, Steve 
I-, are the words "sick and tired of ... " The next case in this study finds 
the subject, Kristi T-, stating: "Heading that list [of things she doesn't 
like] is boredom ... " Neither of the two subjects appears to consider the 
fact that it is not so much "the run of the mill" sex with one and the same 
partner that is responsible for his and her boredom, but rather the absence 
of any individual interests and interests in common outside sex. In other 
words, the only meeting ground that was common to both Steve and his wife 
Susie was the bed, and having no avocational involvement in anything, it is 
not surprising that their minds turned toward the idea of breaking the 
boredom with which they were taken by seeking more sex and with others. 

The fact that their orgiastic involvement with the West Coast "club," with 
which they got in contact via an ad in one of the underground papers, and 
which was apparently formed by Dave and Katy, did not eliminate their 
boredom is supported in the following portion of the subject's narrative 
where he states that after returning home from their "vacation" things got 
worse. And this, of course, prompted them again to get away from the boredom 
of their sexual life by seeking another form of sexual outlet, i.e., an 
outlet outside their marriage. 

This type of reasoning for "escaping from boredom" could be compared to the 
reasoning of (for example) a service-station attendant who gets bored with 
pumping gas in a residential neighborhood, where he only comes in contact 
with the same old neighborhood coupes and sedans, and decides to get 
transferred to a downtown service station where he will have a variety of 
vehicles to service. Or of a man who gets tired of getting in and out of his 
own car whenever he feels like going for a drive and tries to solve his 
problem by renting a different car whenever he has the chance. Or of a 
commercial artist who finds drawing single-frame cartoons "a drag" and turns 
to creating comic strips. True, in two of the preceding examples the state 
of boredom is concurrent with making a living; even so, the escape is 
misdirected and brings the bored individual in a roundabout way back to the 
problem he had in the first place. 

Which appears to be exactly the case with the subject of this case and his 
wife. It is true that during their involvement with the first "club" they 
experienced an escape feeling from the ritual of their daily living; it is 
true that physically they were pleased with the hedonistic affair. It is 
also true, however, that these feelings of escape and pleasure were of a 
temporary nature and of a nature that did neither solve the oppressiveness 
of their boredom with each other nor improve their state of happiness (an 
emotional condition as opposed to pleasure, a physical or physiological 
condition); if anything the first venture into group sex-limited though it 
was to oral copulation because of a somewhat peculiar "code of ethics" of 
that particular club-if anything, then, This first venture imbued them with 
a stronger feeling of restlessness and discontent with each other. The fact 
that immediately after their experiences with oral sex at Dave and Katy's 
house, the subject claims to have had an extraordinarily satisfying coital 
union with his wife suggests that they were voyeuristically and 
exhibitionalistically affected by the mass orgy in which they had 
participated, and that it was the image-memory of that orgy that had aroused 
them to a plateau where, for a moment, they forgot their boredom with each 
other. 

As the last portion of Steve I----'s narrative reveals, this image-memory 
was of a temporary nature and before long, upon their return home, they 
realized that they again had to seek out a "club" to cater to their desire 
to become involved with strangers. 

It is probably the search for the new and the novel as a means of improving 
the old that prompts a great many dissatisfied couples to embark into the 
world of specialized sex clubs; unfortunately, in spite of the subject's 
comment that he and his wife have found what they wanted, the new and the 
novel shortly becomes the old and the boring, and the search must start out 
anew. 

"For the first couple of days after our 'suck' night, Susie's and my 
reactions were the same. We both were glad we had gone through it, but it 
seemed sort of sordid. You know, too freaky to be believed. But as time 
passed, and things settled back into a routine, the night we'd spent at 
Dave's and Katy's house became more and more an exciting memory. And by the 
time it was time to leave California and head back home, we were almost to 
the point of regretting that we didn't have one more chance to go back. 

"But we didn't. We just packed our bags, tied the kids in the back, seat, 
kissed everybody good-bye-about a thousand times-and then headed home. 

"It was funny, but every time I thought of that night of really far-out sex, 
I'd get a roaring hard on. It had worked. I mean, that same night, despite 
having come in several different broads mouths, I got hold of Susie and we 
fucked for what seemed like hours. It was great. I guess it was the feeling 
almost of frustration of having only mouth action and never being able to 
have that great feeling of sliding my cock into a tight, warm pussy that got 
me so damned hot. 

"Anyway, we got back home and things settled into the same old rut. Only now 
it was even worse, because we were aware of exciting things happening in 
other places. 

"It got to the point we both, Susie and I, figured we'd have to do something 
or else go nuts. And our solution was simply to start a suck club of our 
own. 

"Now, knowing where we were living at the time makes the prospects of 
starting a suck club pretty remote, but remember, I already told you that 
some guys where I was working were already doing a little swapping. So I 
figured that if there were people around who liked to swap, there were 
probably just as many who'd like to suck, kiss, lick, and bite. 

"We called our club SKLB, for the aforementioned 'suck, kiss, lick, and 
bite.' We put an ad in the local daily paper, using about the same wording 
as Dave's ad in Los Angeles. Would you believe that we didn't get one 
legitimate answer. Those that did answer thought we'd be having evenings of 
tea and discussion of Impressionist paintings. Holy shit! 

"So that's when I snuck into the one 'dirty book store' we had in town and 
bought one of those 'swingers' newspapers.' Had to damned near wear a 
disguise to go into the place. The minister of our church lived right down 
the street from the place-and he's always preaching against it-so if he'd 
caught me, my whole family would have been dead. 

"But he didn't. I got home, and Susie and I started to look through the ads. 
We found only one that was listed for a location that was anywhere near a 
reasonable driving distance away. About a hundred and fifty miles. So I 
dropped a letter to the address. 

"We didn't get a letter back; we got a phone call back. Within three days of 
our mailing our letter. The guy who called gave his name as Tony and said he 
had a turkey ranch out in the sticks, so if Susie and I wanted to, we could 
visit and do just about anything we wanted without any worry about being 
caught. 

"That sounded all right to me, but the thing that bothered me was the sound 
of the guy's voice. He didn't sound like the type of guy who would turn 
Susie on. So I made the deal with him that if Susie and I did come and that 
if either of the couples wanted to back out, there'd be no hard feelings. 
Tony agreed readily. 

"We made arrangements for the following weekend. Got a baby-sitter and the 
whole mess. Saturday found us on the road, heading for a turkey farm. I was 
more than a little afraid that the whole weekend would end up being a 
turkey. 

"Boy, was I wrong. We had a ball. Pardon the pun. But before we could start 
having fun, we had to drive through some of the worse terrain I'd ever seen. 
And the goddamned road we were on wasn't much better than a cow path. Now I 
understood why Tony had been so precise in his instructions on how to get to 
the ranch. All I could think of was how did they find the place to buy it? 
And how in the hell did they get their turkeys out? 

"Tony and Diane's house was a seventeen-room mansion that was unbelievable. 
Out in the middle of nowhere. And it was beautiful. Susie couldn't even talk 
for about a half hour after we got there. That's how impressed she was. 

"And when I asked Tony how he got his turkeys out, without any hesitation he 
pointed to a hangar and said, 'We fly 'em out.' A goddamned refrigerated 
plane! 

"Diane was thin, but she still had a decent size set of tits. And a good Set 
of hips. Nice and lush. She was a pretty gal. I was champing at the bit to 
get my mouth working on her, and I could tell that Susie wasn't hesitant 
about attacking Tony either. Also, on the other side of the coin; I was sure 
there weren't going to be any refusals on their part about giving me and 
Susie a few jollies either. 

"We didn't do anything all Saturday afternoon except talk, look around the 
place and drink. The sex activities were set for that night, after dinner. 
And then Tony dropped the bombshell. All the domestic help was gone, he 
said, so we would be able to start in right during the meal. Then he 
suggested we all come to the table bare-ass naked. It sounded like a fine 
idea to me. 

"Susie and I held hands as we walked down the staircase and through the 
large hallway toward the dining room. The tiles felt cold on our bare feet, 
and despite knowing that nobody but Tony and Diane were around, we were a 
little embarrassed about walking stark naked through all that fanciness. 

"But as soon as we got to the dining room, we weren't embarrassed at all. 
Tony was standing by the bar, mixing drinks for the four of us. When he 
turned around, I couldn't help but notice that he had the biggest fucking 
cock I'd ever seen in my life. 

"I turned right off toward Susie and her eyes were as big as saucers. She 
was ready! 

"And then my part of the suck feast walked in from the kitchen. Diane was 
wearing nothing but a little apron that didn't hide a thing. And she looked 
so damned cute I wanted to grab her right there. 

"I got the biggest surprise of my life after the drinks had been served, 
after we'd made a toast and then sat down to the soup. As soon as I was 
settled I felt this body sort of move up between my legs. And before I could 
even react, my legs had been spread and some mouth was sucking on my cock. 

"I glanced over at Susie and from the look on her face, I could tell that 
she was having fun, too. 

"I was just about ready to pull, up the tablecloth and look under the table 
when Tony spoke up. 'No fair looking,' he laughed. 'That's part of the fun. 
Not seeing who's taking care of you all during dinner.' 

"Can you believe that I went through four courses, coffee, and dessert, and 
all the time somebody was licking on my nuts, sucking on my cock, rimming my 
ass, and doing a lot of ether great things. It was the best dinner I'd ever 
had, and believe me, I couldn't tell you one thing I ate. 

"Finally, after the dessert had disappeared, Susie's and my benefactors were 
brought out from under the table and introduced. They were Diane's sister, 
named Donna, and her husband, Rick, who was the manager of the ranch. They 
too were a fine-looking couple. 

"After the introductions, we were all ushered into the den, where drinks 
were served and a couple of joints were lit. It was the first time in our 
lives, that Susie and I had ever had pot, but we figured, what the hell, 
might as well try it. 

"We did, and it was great. We didn't get really stoned, just got high enough 
to have everything sharpened for us. Like the touch of lips on my cock just 
about shot me up a wall after I'd had that pot. That's how good it was. 

"After about an hour we adjourned to the bedroom. The place was fantastic. 
Mirrored from top to bottom, and even on the ceiling. Christ, it was like 
the whole world was watching you. 

"Like I told you, we all were already naked, so it didn't take long before 
the action started once we got in the bedroom. 

"I saw Tony head right for Susie and kiss her hard. Then he put his hands on 
her shoulder and gently eased her to a kneeling position. Then as soon as 
her mouth was on the same level as his cock, he lifted that monster and 
started to shove it at her. She took as much as she could, and honest to 
pete, it was only half gone. That's how big it was. 

"I headed for Donna. Diane was just a little thin for me, but Donna was 
gorgeous. She looked exactly like her sister, only her body was fuller and 
lusher. She was a knockout. And she'd been the one who'd sucked on me all 
during dinner. So I owed her a few favors. 

"I spread her out on some cushions that were on the floor. Then I started in 
on top and went right down the line. Her neck, her tits, her belly, cunt 
hair, down her thighs, her calves, and even her feet. Then I turned her over 
and started up the back of her legs, all over her ass, with just a quick dip 
of the tongue into her asshole, then up her back, into her ears. Man, it was 
a wild around-the-world, and I could tell she was enjoying it no end. 

"I stopped for a few seconds, just to get my wind before starting in on the 
serious sucking. Everybody in the room was pretty well occupied. Susie was 
still working on that cock of Tony's, and he had his finger pushed up into 
her cunt. 

"Rick and Diane were sixty-nining like crazy on the bed. I glanced up into 
the ceiling and could see everybody's reflection. It was the wildest thing 
I'd ever seen in my life. 

"But I had something of my own to occupy my time. I dove between Donna's 
thighs and landed with my tongue straight up in her pussy. She was wet and 
juicy already and my tongue slid up into her easy as pie. 

"I lifted her legs up, spread them and opened up that cunt to my tongue. I 
leaned over and started lapping. All over the lips, straight in as far as I 
could push it, and then back to the clit. She was a great-tasting broad. The 
best I'd ever had, including Susie, but don't tell her. 

"Donna wasn't having any more of the solo performance though. She reached 
down and pushed my head away from her, then she got hold of my cock and 
pulled on it until I'd moved around. 

"I settled down with my cock about an inch from her mouth. She reached over 
and took the whole fucking thing down her throat. In one swallow. That girl 
was one hell of a cock-sucker. 

"I stuck my face back up against her pussy and we really went to town. Oh, 
Jesus, it was wonderful. I felt Donna come one time after another while I 
was sucking on her. And she had me near the peak too, although she was such 
a good cocksucker that she seemed to sense just when I was about to shoot 
off. She'd back off then and let me settle down a little. She wasn't about 
to have the evening end too early. 

"This sucking and licking by couples went on for a long time, but then Tony 
started to change the script. He got down on his back and told Susie to sit 
on his thee. And while he was washing out her cunt with his tongue, he 
called Diane, his wife, over to him. 

"I glanced over when he called and saw him stretched out on his back, his 
big hard cock standing straight up in the air. 

"Diane went over there, pulling Rick along with her, and settled her pussy 
right down on that cock of her husband's. Christ, I'll bet that damned thing 
was just about pushing against her lungs, that's how big it was. 

"Rick pulled in close and stuck his cock in Diane's face. She swallowed it 
with no trouble at all. 

"That's when Donna nudged me and with a nod of her head indicated that we 
should go over and join the group. 

"I didn't know where to start. But I decided that I wanted to get a taste of 
my wife. Her cunt was busy, but her asshole wasn't. I knew with a little 
maneuvering I could get at it, and she'd dig that the most. 

"I got down on all fours, trying my best to get my tongue at Susie's 
asshole. Almost immediately, somebody was sucking on my cock. I turned 
around just long enough to see that Donna was back in place, wrapping her 
lips around the full length of my cock and moving her head furiously back 
and forth. 

"Rick pulled his cock out of Diane's mouth and moved behind Donna. He 
squatted down and shoved his cock against her. I about shit when I realized 
that he wasn't fucking his wife in the cunt; he was shoving his pecker right 
up her ass. 

"But I had more important things to think about than seeing some guy 
ass-fuck his wife. I turned back and started looking for Susie's asshole 
again with my tongue. She must have sensed what I was after, even with her 
back turned to me, because she moved back as far as she could. Finally, I 
could feel my tongue touching that little hole. Just reaching it. Then she 
moved back farther, and I got the tip of my tongue inside her asshole. 

"That immediately gave her a huge come. Her whole body rocked with pleasure 
she was having. And me too. I came. Just from seeing Susie so excited, plus 
the pleasure of having my cock sucked so fucking well, I felt the come shoot 
out of my cock and into Donna's mouth. Hell, that didn't mean the end of the 
evening, it was just the beginning. When you're as turned on by things as I 
was that night, you're good for at least three good comes. 

"Everybody, almost like on cue, seemed to shoot off about the same time 
Susie and I did. Diane was next after me. She still was impaled on that huge 
dong of her husband's and pretty soon she was thrashing around like she was 
crazy. 

"Rick was next. He pumped his come right up his wife's ass. She liked that. 
She came almost as soon as he was finished. In fact, the only guy who didn't 
come was Tony. But he had his turns later on. 

"My throat was so dry from all that sucking that I got up and went to the 
bar they had set up in the bedroom. I made Susie and myself drinks, and 
ended up as bartender for the whole group. 

"We all got our drinks and sat around, resting up for the next bout. Susie 
and I were about to be the center of attention, all by ourselves. 

"I guess you noticed that with all the sucking activity, when it came to 
outright fucking, the guys always went with their wives. Which was the way 
Susie and I wanted it. And now the group wanted to gee Susie and me fucking. 

"For some reason, with all those mirrors, and with that whole group just 
sitting around watching while I started to fuck Susie, I was really turned 
on. I don't remember my cock ever being harder. And Susie was really wound 
up, too. 

"I fucked her on her back, on her side, poised on her hands and knees. Every 
way I could think of. And it was a wild fuck. The best. Susie shot off at 
least five times, and when I finally got my rocks off it was so tremendous 
that I Just wanted to stay in that warm, wonderful cunt for the rest of my 
life. 

"Susie and I got a small round of applause after our performance. And then 
it was Tony's turn. 

"He made some comment about our group being basically a 'suck' group, and 
then proceeded to do something I had never in my fucking life seen before. 
He just started bending over, and the son of a bitch started sucking his own 
cock. I told you it was long, but Jesus, I'd never heard of anything like 
that. 

"As soon as it was hard, though, Diane took over. She knelt in front of him, 
with her arms stretched wide away from her body, and she let Tony use her 
mouth like a cunt. He held on to her head and fucked furiously away at her 
mouth. I don't know how Diane took that punishment, but she seemed to enjoy 
it. 

"A couple of more joints and a couple of drinks later and Rick and Donna 
took to the fucking couch. 

"When they were finished, I was feeling hot again, so I headed for Diane. 
She was the only one I hadn't sucked on. Her pussy was smooth and gorgeous, 
and with me being less than really hot, I worked nice and slow and steady on 
that cunt, building her up to one come after another. I was enjoying her 
enjoyment. 

"The night finally ended with everybody really exhausted. We just plopped 
down where we were and went to sleep. Susie and I were cuddled like a couple 
of kids. But Susie did make one comment before we fell off to sleep. 'I'm 
glad,' she said, 'that you're the one who belongs to me.' 

"I guess I don't have to tell you that Susie and I went back to that ranch 
every chance we got. And the group got bigger and bigger. In fact, one 
weekend there were thirty-four people there. You've never seen fucking and 
sucking like that in your life. 

"In fact, that club of ours got to be such a way of life for us, that we 
decided to move closer to the action. Tony got me a job, better than the one 
I had before, and now we're only about a half hour from all that great 
sucking action. And Susie and I are happier with our married life than we've 
been since the honeymoon. 

"We've had only one bit of trouble ever since the club has been going on. 
This one broad came with her husband, and right off she started to bad-mouth 
the whole scene'. She threatened to call the police-hell, it would have 
taken them a day and a half to get to the place-and called us all perverts 
and rotten things like that. 

"But we got even with her. And it was just up her alley. That gal ended up 
sucking off every guy there. Twelve of us, if I remember right. And she 
didn't just suck for a couple of seconds and then move on to the next guy. 
She sucked each of us until we shot off down her throat. That fucking broad 
must have swallowed at least a quart of come. And when she was finished, she 
wasn't bad-mouthing anymore. In fact, she was begging for more cock. 

"It's really strange the way people react to our club. She was the worst. 
But other people, who liked the idea at first, when it got around to 
performing, were so shy that they virtually had to be forced. But once they 
got the hang of it, everything was fine. 

"I guess it's just the way everybody was brought up. To hide how they feel 
and the things they'd like to do. That's not Susie's and my problem anymore, 
and we're sure a hell of a lot better off." 

The optimism of the subject's last comment cannot be shared within the 
context of reality except in a strictly temporary sense. An arrangement such 
as the subject, his wife, and members of the "turkey ranch" club have will 
eventually either run into legal difficulties or will feel the oppressive 
shadow of boredom being cast even over its strongly hedonistic atmosphere. 

 CHAPTER THREE: "Apartment Seven, Please" 

"The first time I ever saw Brad it was at the pool, that overgrown bathtub 
we caned a pool, anyway, and immediately I feared and suspected that I was 
hooked. 

"Now don't go tripping out, please, and think I'm laying a 
love-at-first-sight bit down; I'm no fool and love is one of those grossly 
magnified four-letter words. I'm twenty-six (yes, I know I don't look it), 
hip, and I've been around enough to know exactly what I like. 

"Also, all the things I don't like, which is at least as important. Heading 
that list is boredom-a grand and general heading that certainly includes 
having a husband, children, living in some jerkwater town and all the other 
by-products of the American Dream Scheme. I left small-town U.S.A. when I 
was seventeen, in the car of a total stranger who might have turned out to 
be a murderer, for all I cared, impulsively getting in the new car when it 
stopped. It turned out that the stranger was a buyer for a big antique shop 
in Los Angeles, on his way home, and he had this 'thing' for girls with long 
red hair. 

"Los Angeles! Hollywood! Oh, yes, I was down-home enough to sincerely 
believe they were waiting for me out there. After all, I'd been the lead in 
a few school plays, I had lucked out with mother nature, what with having 
the big green eyes, pretty pink skin, and lack of freckles that redheads are 
rarely lucky enough to get, and I had the kind of body that lost me my 
innocence before I was fifteen, all curves with the kind of tits and round 
little ass that just filled a man's big hands. Sure, Hollywood would be 
waiting open-armed, so I willingly allowed Ken whatever-his-name-was to 
drive me there with only the clothes on my back! 

"Well, Hollywood turned out to be a little different than I'd expected, 
about the same as it must be for every other pretty girl who arrives full of 
hopes and youth. I landed there with a few bills, thanks to friend Ken, a 
modest wardrobe from the same source, and a cunt that ached from being 
fucked so often along the way that we arrived three days past schedule. Ken 
belatedly informed me that he had a wife and three kids nearby, deposited me 
in a crummy apartment-hotel in Hollywood, and split, promising to return in 
a few nights. 

"It took me about an hour to convince the man at the desk that he should 
give me Ken's money, that I didn't want the lousy room. Finally I used my 
age to get me what I wanted. I had no intention of seeing Ken again now that 
I was in Hollywood-he was a link with my drab past, and burning bridges was 
my thing that week. As I walked along the famous Hollywood Boulevard, the 
small suitcase banging against my calf, I went to work on the other link-my 
name. I'd been saddled with May Beth all my life, and it was great fun to 
slowly wander through the shops and busy streets considering and rejecting 
new names. I finally settled on Kristi Y-, inspired by some new hair lotion 
advertised in the window of a fancy drugstore I passed. I was busy trying 
the name on for size when I bumped straight into a tall, handsome older man. 

"I was too inexperienced to realize Vern had caused the 'accident.' 'Take it 
easy, baby,' he cautioned, reaching out to steady me. 

"Feeling damn clumsy, I apologized, and before I knew it I was walking along 
with Vern, attempting to follow his smooth line. When we came to his shiny 
new car I got in without thinking, nodding when he suggested a pizza at some 
little hole in the wall a few blocks off the main drag. What with the pizza 
and the coke, it took us all of an hour and a half before we were tucked 
into a big bed, this time in a. nice, new motel not far from the Sunset 
Strip. 

"Feeling fine, I relaxed and let him begin to make love to me. I had eaten, 
I had a bed for the night, at least, and, since I was still somewhat sore 
between my young legs, I figured I might as well be a little more sore. It 
couldn't matter much at that point. 

"I may as well admit it, sex was a big letdown to me then. Oh, I wasn't 
counting the first time, when a guy pulled the rape bit on me. He was just 
too hot to listen to reason, and I had been playing a heavy game of 
prick-teaser. Besides, I knew enough to know that the first time wasn't 
usually that good for a girl. So after I'd bounced down to the nearest 
hippie clinic and gotten The Pill, I gave it another try. This time it was 
the captain of our school football team. Well, what Rob didn't know about 
girls could have filled a book, so of course I still wasn't thrilled. But I 
began to worry a little when I let a few other, older guys fuck me. Not that 
it didn't feel sort of good, but where was that big moment? Why did they 
always roll off leaving me feeling like I'd taken a wrong turn somewhere? I 
just couldn't get with it, but since every man I'd ever met seemed convinced 
that it was the greatest, I soon got pretty practical about the whole thing. 
A quick screw could get a pretty girl a lot of things in this world. I was 
just sorry that ecstasy wasn't one of them. 

"Still, it was no big thing, and it felt kind of nice, the way Vern was 
kissing and sucking my pouty little nipples. I was even mildly sorry that he 
was soon going to stick his big prick in me and start pumping away-his 
tongue felt so good on my breasts. 

"But Vern didn't seem to be in any more of a hurry than I was. He kept 
kissing and sucking my stiff nipples, and when finally he began to move, it 
was only to lower his face and begin kissing the smooth flesh of my belly 
and thighs. I was so dumb I had no idea what he was going for until he was 
there. 

"Like I said, it felt good, his mouth roaming over my body. He moved lightly 
over the high line of my hip, then started to kiss his way up and down my 
legs until he had managed to wriggle between my thighs. I expected him to 
lift himself on to me, to mount me, but he remained as he was, between my 
thighs, kissing and licking higher and higher until his face was only a few 
inches from my wet cunt. 

"That was another thing. I never had any trouble getting juicy. A few kisses 
and a feel or two and I'd be physically ready for some action. But it was 
different this time-very different. A funny heat penetrated my limbs, a 
crazy, gingery warmth. I found my breath catching and changing, and my 
thighs began to open wider, as if my little cunt needed a touch of cooling 
air. 

"I felt positively slippery down there, too, and the feeling spread out so 
that I felt as if I'd been lubricated at every joint, that if I'd tried to 
walk I might very well move as if I'd been oiled. 

"'That's beautiful, doll,' Vern's nearly forgotten voice drifted up to me. 
'I always had a thing for red-headed dollies. Real redheads, with little red 
snatches. Now I'm going to show you how much you turn me on, Kristi, baby 
... ' He moved even closer. 

"I caught my breath as his tongue, wet and hot, dragged slowly across my 
stiffened clitoris. Then I began to moan pathetically, instantly so involved 
and controlled by what this stranger was doing to me that I ceased being 
myself at all. I was a thing of jelly, a moaning, writhing: doll, a slave to 
a knowing, eager tongue which dug into my cunt in a way no cock had ever 
known it. I don't know if, given the chance, all young girls 'would be 
turned on as I was, the first time a skilled tongue went to work on them, 
but I felt as if I were discovering sex for the first time. There, on my 
back, my ass wriggling all over that bed, I finally learned about ecstasy. 
Pinned- to the sheets which quickly dampened from my heated flesh, rough 
hands holding-me down, spreading me open, a feverish tongue, soft lips, 
sharp teeth, a mouth that sucked between kisses, I dissolved into' my first 
orgasm, only to be convulsing against his face a second and, finally, a 
third time before he let me go. Weak and panting, glowing and still shaking 
from the aftermath of his tonguing, I waited dizzily for Vern to climb on 
top of me and finally, sink his prick into me. I didn't mind the thought-I 
was, in fact, happy to return in part the pleasure I'd been given, but Vern 
merely rolled over and hugged me to his body, content and tired. I managed 
to glance down and was surprised to find that his cock was glazed with come. 

"Vern kept me at that motel nearly a month. During that time I didn't do a 
damn thing except wait for him to return to me from wherever he earned his 
daily bread. I guessed he was married since he never spent a whole night 
with me, but when he was with me the world was a ball of fire and flowing 
honey. Once he stayed between my legs a full three hours-I timed it-and when 
he finally moved it wasn't at my request. With Vern I learned the subtle 
differences of being on a bed on my back while getting sucked as opposed to 
sitting on Vern's face or standing up, propped against a wall with one leg 
hooked over his neck. We spent every minute, almost, in sheer ecstasy. He 
didn't try to fuck me even once, but after the first week he did attempt to 
introduce a new innovation. 

"I'd given up worrying about how Vern was getting his own kicks. I soon saw 
that his hand appeared to do the trick just fine. But he had a better idea. 
'In the interest of a broader education and the sake of justice and all,' he 
broached one night while we were resting up, 'you're about to get a lesson 
in the joys of cocksucking, my love. Ever take a man'S cock in your mouth, 
Kristi?' 

"I shook my head, frowning slightly. The thought turned me off. 

"'Then there's always a first time, baby ... ' His big hand snaked around my 
head and pulled my face to his belly. 

"His dick wasn't hard, but as I bobbed helplessly, protesting and attempting 
to evade him, the flesh rapidly hardened until his prick was huge and flush 
against my cheek. It smelled faintly of perspiration and semen, but all my 
struggling only brought me closer, until I was lightly making my protests to 
the broad tip of his fat cock. 

"'Just open your mouth, brat. That's a good girl, open your mouth and suck.' 
His voice was amused and condescending, but his grip was like iron. 

"I relaxed suddenly, because my body was being turned by Vern's free hand. 
Before I knew it Vern had parted, my thighs and was busily lapping at my 
cunt. I calmed down at once, and with his wonderful tongue doing crazy 
things to my cunt, I could hardly refuse to do as he asked. I opened my 
mouth and took the head of his dick between my lips. The mechanics were easy 
enough, but I nearly gagged on the reality of what I was doing. His enormous 
balls fell against my cheek and chin and there was something so repulsive 
about having his cock in my mouth that, in spite of the thrills drumming 
through my own blood, I was unable to continue sucking him after a moment or 
two. Instead, I let his cock slip from my mouth and used my hand 'on him 
instead, jerking on his prick until, shortly after I climaxed against his 
hot mouth, Vern spat a boiling load of thick come all over my hand and face 
... 

"Vern just didn't show up one day. I never did find out why. The rent was 
paid until the end of the month, I knew, and I had some money to last me 
till then if I didn't splurge. After waiting a whole day, I ventured out, 
and immediately got lost in the world of Hollywood dreams. I met someone who 
knew an agent, ended up getting more day-to-day work as an extra than 
anything, with a few modeling jobs thrown in, and started growing up. I had 
a lot of lovers, but as I found more and more men who were content to simply 
suck me off, I slowly stopped fucking at all, or fell back to that only as a 
last resort, or as a sort of payment. I was definitely finding out what I 
liked and didn't like. 

"I met Nick the night of my twenty-second birthday, at a big Hollywood 
party. I'd done pretty well that year, what with a TV commercial which ran 
and ran and ran, until even I was bored with everything about it except the 
residuals. In fact, that was the keynote of that year-boredom, but with 
style. I had a nice pad in Westwood, a great wardrobe, and the future looked 
pretty good. I'd long ago given up the dream of Lana Turner instant stardom, 
but the pennies kept dropping from heaven, and I should have been on top of 
the world. 

"But I was, indeed, bored. The wild life no longer thrilled me. I was 
looking for something, but I wasn't sure I knew what that 'something' was. 
Which, of course, made me doubly suspicious of everything that crossed my 
path ... Was this it? Did that mean something special? That kind of 
thinking. I'm sure that's why Richie affected me as much as he did. It was 
that kind of a year, and, what the hell, I was bored. I'd rather be dead 
than bored. 

"Richie was a babe in arms, a twenty-year-old kid right off the farm, all 
big-eyed and innocent. I'd been dating his brother Nick since that big 
party, and Nick, at thirty, was a whole different story By that I mean he 
was Mr Hollywood, in the way that every other guy I was seeing was. He 
worked for an agency, and I let him take me home and screw the shit out of 
me because I was aware of his power. One more ad and I could pretty well 
retire for a year or so, or indulge myself with one more shot at a real 
acting job. Nick liked me well enough, I got the job, and we began to see a 
lot of each other. Nothing heavy, and I kept the sex to a minimum, but all 
the time we were together I kept waiting for that 'something' to come along 
who would-which would-magically relieve my growing boredom. 

"I met Richie a few days after he arrived in town, innocently expecting his 
older brother, long unseen, to put him up while he searched for his place in 
the Big City. Richie was terribly cute, and a hundred years too young for 
me. Which may have been why he turned me on so much. Or maybe it was, that 
corn-fed maleness ... 

"He was wide-eyed over meeting me, awed by my Max-Factor loveliness, and at 
first I'd only meant to have a little fun with him. He'd hardly ever fucked 
a girl, lost, as he was, on that Iowa farm, and he'd never even considered 
using his tongue on one, or anything that naughty. But I 'knew he wanted 
me-oh, did he ever! So, because I was bored, because he turned me on and I 
needed a new toy, I began to play with Richie. I turned him on with every 
little trick I knew, then refused to let that big dick of his anywhere near 
me. It had to be my way or no way, and the game continued until one night, 
sobbing with frustration and need, Richie fell to his knees, stuck his 
handsome face under my skirt, ripped the crotch from my panties, and 
frantically began to lap my steaming cunt ... 

"He liked it. I loved it. He moved in with me the very next day, amusing his 
brother. At first I was amused, too, but that didn't last long. All of a 
sudden the boredom was gone, and I was completely wrapped up in Richie, in 
our hot moments together. On our second night together I found myself 
willingly tonguing and licking his beautiful cock, and an odd hunger gripped 
me. The magic I'd wanted was there, and I was overwhelmingly in love with 
Richie, more so, I secretly suspected at the time, than he was with me. All 
the tables were being reversed-Richie was beginning to be-my master, and I 
was lost to his boyish needs and moods; Our sex was frantic and beautiful, 
and I wouldn't let it be marred by the so-called 'normal' sex, a terrible 
waste, I felt, since children were out, and I wanted to fully experience the 
heat of his young loins in my mouth and throat, not have it splash uselessly 
against my sterile womb. I was astonished to find myself sickeningly jealous 
when I found he's been with other girls, and, shocking even myself, I 
somehow or other got us before a justice of the peace, as if marriage were 
the only ultimate way I had of holding this boy ... 

"Richie, with the help of a few friends and more than a few females who also 
were attracted by his outdoor charm, grew up quickly. I found myself with a 
cranky, demanding boy-toy, a twenty-year-old kid who didn't want to work, 
was simply content to live with and off me, sneaking around when the desire 
for a straight piece of ass hit him, further humiliating me. I was too 
young, too good-looking for this scene, yet I put up with it and, 
masochistically, encouraged it to a degree. Jealous and hurt, I gave in and 
let him fuck me at first, but Richie, brat that he was, went out of his way 
to make it miserable for me, knowing I hated every minute of it. When he 
pushed me a little too far he would, clever child, push me down and work his 
tongue into my aching, ever needing crotch, at the same time forcing his 
beautiful prick between my suddenly silenced lips. It was an insane year. 
But I wasn't bored. 

"By the second year Richie was, though, and I began to get a little 
desperate about holding on to him. It was crazy, but I was too caught up in 
the game to see just how crazy it was. 

"I knew about his other girls-he made sure I knew about them, perhaps as a 
little private revenge for what my so-called 'love' had done to that 
innocent farm boy with the good intentions. I don't know. But one day he 
told me that he had this buddy who loved giving women head, and he thought 
it would be a 'kick' if I'd go to bed with the buddy and let him watch. A 
little drunk, reading the boredom in Richie's recent actions, I finally 
agreed, and that night was the start of a whole new game. Richie did watch, 
while his buddy-'buddy'; I'm sure he paid Richie well-used a pretty skillful 
tongue on my cunt. In spite of myself, hating myself, I came ... 

"The next time the 'buddy,' a different one, brought a girl for my Richie. 
But I was too drunk and too excited to stop the whole thing. The four of us 
shared the whole bed, and I found myself vastly excited watching Richie fuck 
this strange girl. Afterward I ended up with my mouth wrapped tightly around 
my child-husband's cock, as if to reaffirm my claim ... It was a wild year. 

"Once the swapping thing got under way there was no going back, especially 
since a greedy, sick part of me loved the whole thing. And Richie, like some 
infantile ringleader, kept the merry-go-round spinning faster and faster and 
faster ... Things were a blur, and finally Richie left, helping himself to 
the very best, the choicest morsels in the house before shipping me off to 
the funny farm, the 'private sanitarium,' the dump where, for a bundle, they 
get you off the goddamn merry-go-round ... 

"The divorce cost nearly as much as the retreat, but my nerves were steel 
instead of jelly again, and I was simply grateful. I settled down to work 
during the next year. Again I was pretty lucky and even landed a small but 
steady part in a soap opera. That and a couple of decent commercials did the 
trick, and my bankbook began to get healthy again. I moved to the large 
apartment complex with the poor excuse for a pool, and threw myself into 
decorating the apartment. 

"Everything was fine. Until I happened one day, while tripping along with my 
newest treasure in tow, a small antique table for the foyer, to see Brad at 
the pool. He was young, handsome in that same corn-fed way, and even before 
I knew his name; I knew he was trouble. From the immediate wetness of my 
unthinking crotch as I looked at Brad I knew I was heading straight for a 
taste of that trouble. Didn't someone once say something about how she who 
refuses to learn from history is forced to repeat it? Oh, well ... 

The element of pathos that underlies the case of Kristi Y- can only be 
understood in the light of a physiological basis. What at first appears to 
be a coarseness in the attitude toward life in general and toward 
traditional values-marriage, family, home-in particular is, in fact, a 
frustration growing out of what must be, by all indications presented in a 
relatively subtle manner by Kristi, nothing less than the subject's 
physiological frigidity. Several times in the course of her narrative she 
stresses her disinterest in regular intercourse, her strong preference-an 
obsession, almost-for oral lovemaking, i.e., cunnilingus and, eventually, 
fellatio, and admits to an inability to attain orgasm through intromissive 
coitus. 

Robert E. Rothenberg, in his Medical Guide to Sex & Marriage, writes: 

Frigidity is defined as a lack of sexual (orgastic) response in a female ... 
If a female has been born with a well-formed body and a normal glandular and 
reproductive system, there is no physiological basis for frigidity ... 

Frigidity is a variable entity ... 

Frigidity may be absolute or relative. Some women are unable to feel and 
enjoy sex under any circumstances and with all men. This is absolute 
frigidity and should be recognized as a neurotic response ... 

Relative frigidity requires the advice of a family physician or a marriage 
counselor more than that of a psychiatrist ... 

Considering Kristi Y---'s adolescent period (nothing is known of her early 
childhood), she is, if anything, extraordinarily well-adjusted. She 
manifests no signs of neurosis, in spite of the fact that the frustration 
which she must unquestionably feel would have under similar circumstances 
driven another person to acute neurosis and/or psychosis. One cannot 
underestimate the role that her extrasexual interests (acting, interior 
decorating, etc.) have played in helping her to maintain a levelheaded 
existence. 

Contrary to her repeatedly voiced rejection of marriage, and everything that 
is traditionally tied with it, the subject is, in fact, with controlled 
desperation hoping to find love, which she superficially downgrades (except 
in her affair with, and short-lived "marriage" to, Richie-an affair that was 
doomed from the start), a husband who can satisfy her and whom she can, in 
turn, satisfy, and a status of wife and mother. Her tragic affair with 
sadistic young Richie, which terminated in divorce and a period of 
psychiatric treatment-totally unnecessary-at a "private sanitarium," 
certainly did nothing to alter Kristi's negative outlook toward marriage. 

It is peculiar that during her stay at the private psychiatric clinic no 
attempt had been made to determine the cause of her apparent frigidity. It 
is possible that-embittered as anyone understandably would be under the 
circumstances-she had refused to cooperate with the psychoanalyst who 
handled her case and, of course, were her frigidity not brought up, there 
was no way in which the problem could have been resolved. 

Her second serious involvement, which she describes in the following portion 
of her narrative, can be considered serious only in that it portends to end 
as unrewardingly to the subject as her affair with Richie had ended. Brad, 
the tenant of one of the apartments in the building in which the subject 
resides, is obviously a man-if such a term can be used loosely in reference 
to him-who has no scruples about his lifestyle, his means of obtaining a 
livelihood, or about other people's feelings. He is not using sex as a 
diversionary pleasure source but rather as a tool with which he can sustain 
his leisurely- existence. He holds sex orgies in his apartment, orgies for 
the participation in which he charges admission. 

The subject's attraction to Brad is nothing more than physical infatuation, 
particularly understandable because of her relatively extended period of 
sexual abstention (following her aborted affair and marriage to Richie and 
her psychiatric treatment). Perhaps the most discouraging element in her 
relationship with Brad, as she describes it, is the apparent inclination on 
her part to agree to being used, if not abused, as she had once already been 
by her ex-husband Richie. That there is a masochistic tendency in Kristi 
cannot be denied; that this tendency is closely related to her frigidity is 
more than likely. Her rationalization-if a subconscious process of masochism 
can be called rationalization-is that she is incomplete as a woman because 
she is incapable of being satisfied by a man through regular coital 
relationship. and, reciprocally, of being able to satisfy a man; in any 
relationship, therefore, in which she becomes emotionally involved-i.e., 
"falls in love with the man"-her feeling of inadequacy catalyzes a feeling 
of guilt and the guilt demands compensation in the form of punishment, which 
creates the tendency toward masochism. 

May E. Romm, in Judd Marmor's Sexual Inversion: The Multiple Roots of 
Homosexuality, sums up the development and evolution of masochism in the 
following words: 

It is essential to recognize that [masochism] is not an inherent biological 
reaction to life. We cannot, in all truth, state that an infant reaches out 
for pain. Masochism must therefore ... be a reaction to frustration, in 
which the individual repetitively reaches out for pleasure or satisfaction 
and is continually blocked in his goal or punished for his attempts. In 
desperation, he may then erotize pain in an unsuccessful attempt to cure 
himself through suffering ... This process may lead to psychopithology of 
various degrees, from neurosis to psychosis ... 

One needs but listen to the narrative of Kristi to see that Romm's brief 
analysis is almost custom-made for the subject. 

"Never in my life have I found it difficult to attract the attention of a 
man I might desire. Especially at a pool. I have this bathing suit that's 
more a strip of emerald here and another there, a wisp of color, really, and 
a guaranteed man-catcher. I wore it the day after I'd first spied Brad. 
First, though, I'd had it out with myself. Though my arguments were logical, 
even wise, I'd lost easily to good old desire. Since leaving the funny farm 
I'd indulged only moderately, and then with men who were simply good with 
their tongues and in no way excited me beyond the immediate physical level. 
But Brad was something else again. 

"My interior-decorating mania forgotten, I spent most of the afternoon 
poolside. But he didn't appear. I finally gave it up by five, my delicate 
skin in desperate need of a good oiling. Later that night, after dining 
alone, I found myself actually in bed early, playing with myself like a 
teen-ager, visions of Brad, naked, erecting ghosts I couldn't exorcise 
without an immediate orgasm. 

"He didn't show for four days, and like a hunter after a particularly 
vicious prey, I kept up my stake-out until he finally did appear, more 
magnificent than ever. 

"It was a blow to my ego that he took no notice of me. Instead, he oiled 
that lovely body, stretched out on his back, and fell asleep. 

"That gave me a chance to really eye-ball the joker, from the longish blond 
hair on his head to his very pink toes. His chest was covered with fine 
golden hairs, wiry and short, and his flat belly moved lazily. The loose 
pair of trunks he wore revealed enough so that it appeared that Brad was 
hung like a horse, too. I swear, my mouth was actually watering as I stared 
at the promising' bulge and imagined him coaxing that cock of his down my 
willing throat. As I stared at him his shapely mouth curved into a smile, 
and my pussy could nearly feel those lips against my reddish triangle.,.. I 
was on the brink of going back to my apartment and jerking off again, or 
calling one of the men I knew when he woke up. 

"He did manage to toss me a wink as he suddenly collected himself and 
hurried off. I watched him make his way to Apartment Seven. The hot sun and 
the erotic heat in my own body somehow made me drowsy. Without realizing it, 
I fell asleep, fortunately under the shade of .a stringy palm tree. When I 
awakened an hour or so later, it was with my eyes going, as if by habit, to 
Apartment Seven. As I watched, a dozen or more people made their way up the 
stairs to Brad's apartment. Each of them looked strangely uncomfortable, and 
I found myself wondering just what Brad was doing up there ... Some instinct 
told me I should check it out. 

"Fortunately we have this very hip building manager. Actually, I insist on 
it. Another thing I learned in my early days in Hollywood was that people 
out here are either very square or very, very hip. It is essential to get 
one of the former hags if you have to rent an apartment from anyone who 
lives on the grounds. I looked up Hilda the next day. She supplied more than 
Brad's name, the fact that he was, on the surface, an unemployed actor, and 
a few interesting tidbits about his past. She actually knew about the 
traffic-which took place once a week-at Brad's apartment. 

"'It's 'the way he affords this-place, Kristi. Actually, I first found out 
about it by accident, you know, by answering one of those ads in the 
underground press l Not that I do that sort of thing all the time or 
anything, but I had this bet with Libby ... ' 

"I listened, fascinated, while Hilda prattled on. I finally got her back to 
the point, namely, what the hell was going on at Brad's apartment once a 
week? 

"'Anyway, an ad for a sex club was one thing, but an ad for a "head club" 
was a whole different thing. Did the ad mean it was a club for dopers, you 
know, that kind of "head," or did it mean a sex club where everybody just 
liked to have sex orally?' Hilda giggled. 'Or were they talking about a club 
for intellectual types?' 

"So, on a dare, Hilda had called the number in the ad and out-front asked 
what they were talking about. The husky male voice on the other end made it 
all quite clear-theirs was a club where only oral sex was encouraged. After 
hanging up Hilda was sure she had heard that voice before. It took her all 
of a week to realize it was Brad's voice. On impulse she looked up his 
number and, masking her own voice, continued her discussion of the week 
before, finding out that the club met once a week at his apartment, that men 
had to pay ten dollars a visit, but that a good-looking young-woman was 
welcome free. Amused, Hilda had kept her mouth shut about all this, 
entertaining herself by watching as the weekly club members nervously found 
their way to Brad's apartment. She told me the whole story only after I'd 
all but bribed her by promising to let her come down to the studio one day 
when we filmed my show, which turned out to be her favorite soap opera. 

"Heart pounding away, I rushed out, bought myself a copy of the paper Hilda 
had mentioned, and curled up on one of my new chairs to read the ad section. 

"I found his ad right away, though it didn't have his name or anything on 
it. After planning exactly what I would say, I picked up the phone and, 
amused beyond belief, I called Brad, described my looks and needs softly, 
and got my expected invitation to next week's meeting. 

"I dressed carefully for that great moment, in a style I doubted he'd 
recognize at first glance. I put my long, flaming hair into the tightest bun 
I could imagine, and I wore a sexy but low-key dress, dark hose, and very 
high heels. I also wore big round eyeglasses tinted purple, a touch that 
made me look eighteen and ripe. I was planning on having a little fun. 

"When the others started arriving hot and heavy, I slipped out of my 
apartment and joined the eclectic parade to Apartment Seven. In spite of my 
desire for a little, personal entertainment along with a chance of really 
meeting Brad, I was not unaware that the palms of my hands were damp and I 
was trembling slightly. After all, these were indeed my people, and phantoms 
of the fun we might all be having shortly did little to erase my own 
nervousness. 

"Brad let us inside himself, but there was another man there taking money 
and welcoming everyone. The whole thing was such an obvious shuck, so 
clearly a money-making scheme, I'm amazed anyone went for it, but after a 
few words about the beauty of 'doing your own thing' sexually, a 
good-looking girl got to her feet (a plant? I wondered at the time, but I 
never found out) and suggested that she might be willing to do her own thing 
with a willing male right then and there. 

"This was obviously the sort of thing that got the ball rolling, and of 
course someone-it just happened to be the man who was taking the cash-agreed 
to take the girl up on her kind offer. The couple withdrew to a dimly lit 
sofa and silently undressed-at least the girl reached up and removed her 
panties while the man opened his fly and lowered his shorts. The whole thing 
was even sexier at this point because they were partially dressed, somehow. 
Before long the girl had the guy's prick out and was kissing the head 
lightly. Unable to take much of that, the guy was soon jamming his cock down 
her lovely throat, and while the rest of us watched fascinated, the couple 
finally got into a classic sixty-nine position and began to eat each other 
in earnest. The guy had both of her legs wrapped around his neck shortly, 
while the girl was demonstrating her obvious talent as a pert little 
cocksucker. Every eye in the house was hotly glued to that sofa. 

"I wasn't exactly immune, either. But I took advantage of the show to slowly 
move over toward Brad. He was sitting on the rug near the door, as caught up 
in the sofa scene as the rest. I got close enough to see that his pants were 
bulging with his hardening cock. 

"Since we were sort of hidden from everyone else, and because the perversity 
of the thought struck me and stoked me, I suddenly bent over, pulled down 
Brad's zipper, and freed his swelling dick and hairy balls. Before he could 
react, I ran my hot tongue over his prick and quickly mouthed the tip of his 
cock. It was too good to resist, so Brad directed my head to take in more of 
his cock. Agreeably, I began to suck him off, thrill upon thrill shooting 
through my body as I realized it wasn't since Richie that having a cock in 
my mouth had excited me this much I sucked like a-pro, so excited that I 
actually came halfway through the act. 

"Brad was worked up too, and his hand kept returning to my hair. I knew he 
wanted to run his fingers through the long red strands, so I reached up and 
began removing pins until it finally tumbled freely in his hands. Then I got 
back to the business of giving Brad the best cock-sucking he'd ever had. 

"What with the show in front of him, and the expert sucking and licking 
motions of my mouth and lips and silky tongue, Brad was shooting his thick, 
hot come into my mouth in much too short a time. Eagerly I sucked in the 
creamy load, pumping his balls gently with my fingers as if to milk the last 
delicious drop out of him. Then I lifted my head to smile at him. 

"His jaw nearly dropped to the floor. With my hair all loose around my face, 
he recognized me all right. At first he was just startled, then he was 
upset. 

"'Let's take a walk into the other room, kid,' be suggested, his hand on my 
arm so threateningly strong I had no choice but to take his suggestion as if 
it were a command. 

"We disappeared without disturbing the others. They were beginning to pair 
off anyway, in the dim outer room, and I felt sure the couple on the sofa, 
still going at each other's young flesh, would soon be unnoticed in the 
crowd. Brad led me to a bedroom, closed and locked the door, then motioned 
for me to sit down on one of the twin beds. 

"'Now then, what's the big idea? Who are you, how did you find out about 
this club,' and why are you here?' 

"I couldn't help smiling a little. Hollywood breeds paranoia. 'I'm here in 
answer to your ad, Brad. I called and talked to someone-you, probably, and I 
was invited over here. At first I was a little surprised to realize it was 
my own apartment building, but ... ' I smiled hotly up at him. 'I'd seen you 
by the pool and wondered if you would be good. I just couldn't resist out 
there. Do you really mind?' I teased. 

"But Brad's paranoia didn't evaporate so quickly. His shrewd eyes looked me 
over carefully. 'Strip,' he ordered. 

"Like Richie, he had a way of cutting me down to size that somehow turned me 
on. I began to undress, only to find that my hands were shaking once more: I 
was like a boozer out on a rare binge ... now that I'd found my thing again 
I wanted to revel in every minute of it. 

"Brad watched me get undressed. His eyes were showing the struggle he was 
having to stay cool and suspicious by the time I was down to a wisp of a 
pair of bikini panties. I climbed back into the heels and kept the panties 
on long enough to walk around a little and show myself off. I liked 
twitching my little butt at a likely male. Finally, unable to take much more 
myself, my pussy throbbing so hard I could almost hear it, I slipped off the 
panties, walked to where Brad was crumpled on the bed, and angled my naked, 
oozing crotch at his face. 'Kiss it, darling, please ... ' I whispered, my 
closing with expectation of his kiss. 

"But Brad only backed away. 'This is a swap club, Kristi,' he reminded me. 
'How about if I send in someone to take care of that pretty pussy of yours?' 

"The bastard! He was so like Richie I nearly creamed right then and there. 
Determined I could play the game as well as anyone, I nodded, my eyes 
expressionless tough my body cried out for him and him alone. 

"He got off the bed and was out of the room in a minute. I don't think I was 
even all that surprised when he returned with the girl who had started the 
ball rolling on the sofa a short while before. 

"'This is Grace,' Brad mumbled. 'Grace, Kristi has a pussy that's on fire. 
Look how red it is.' Laughing at his inane little joke, he slumped down on 
the bed. 

"Grace was naked now. She wasn't quite as young as I thought she was, but 
her body was nice and firm, and her breasts were still high and 
small-nippled. Silently she urged me back on the bed. Then, falling to her 
knees, she brought her face to my crotch, parted the, delicate lips with her 
fingertips, and began to lick the thickly glazed flesh of my quivering 
pussy. "Grace was no novice. Soon I was moaning as she went to work on my 
straining clitoris. She sucked it firmly, then backed off and began to lap 
at it gently. I was making the bed dance as the girl's experienced tongue 
made me come in record time. 

"Brad had left the door open, and before long my moans had attracted a few 
others. All of a sudden there was a huge cock, rock hard and angling toward 
me, over my mouth. I reached up and started sucking it. Then I felt Grace 
moving away from my crotch, but immediately she was replaced by someone with 
a less delicate tongue, a tongue which delighted in spearing my hole. In 
time that tongue was replaced by one that seemed intent on doing some 
spearing in another hole, my tight, crinkly fleshed anus. But that didn't 
matter, because the big tool in my mouth was spurting, and I shut my eyes 
tightly and pretended it was Brad ... 

"Another cock soon filled my now aching throat, but this one was small and 
moved in and out of my mouth with short, slow movements. And a new tongue 
was drumming against my clitoris, and I was coming again ... 

"After what seemed a few hours I finally got to my feet. The others tumbled 
onto the bed, working on each other in my absence. My knees were very weak, 
but I managed to stumble into the other room. 

"The couch was filled again, this time by two women clutched together in a 
frantic sixty-nine while a man watched closely, his cock in his hand. 

"In a corner one girl was busy with two men, sucking one while the other was 
buried under her crouching body. The only light in the room gave off a 
bluish glow, plunging the darkened room into a timeless, sizeless dream 
room. A woman with a rounded belly and the thickest pubic hair I'd ever seen 
was leaning against one wall while a man, on his knees was making love to 
her amazing crotch-jungle as if he would never get enough of it. Off in 
another corner a couple were actually fucking, and their movements were so 
furtive, so soundless that I nearly laughed. Oh Brave New World! A way out 
Of the Population Explosion, at last ... 

"I didn't see Brad anywhere, and, silly as it was, I wanted him desperately. 
I knew that in wanting him I would have to be prepared to put up with a lot 
of unnecessary crap, but somehow I wanted -him all the same. I wanted that 
corn-fed body next to mine, wanted to feel the heat of' his loins against my 
face, wanted to grind my girlish cunt into his face ... 

"The fucking couple finally came, and they fell away from each other, as 
soon as the act was completed, not even waiting for the last of his semen to 
fill her pit. At once a girl -appeared out of nowhere and began to catch his 
still spurting come with her mouth. The just-fucked girl watched, bus soon 
she was claimed by Grace, who, I realized, had also been watching the 
strangely illicit couple. Grace dropped to her knees, roughly separated the 
girl's thighs, and began to suck the man's seed out of her womb. 

"Everywhere I looked people were locked together sexually, mouths clinging 
to cunts and pricks like they had been glued into position, but still I 
couldn't see Brad in the writhing, moaning crowd. I headed back toward the 
bedroom, heart whipping around-in my chest at the realization that he was 
off with one of the girls somewhere, removed from me. I would have left, 
gone home, but in spite of all the exquisite sex I'd already enjoyed this 
evening, - I still wanted that special something-in Brad, that nameless 
excitement he generated in the pit of my belly, in every drop of my racing 
blood. 

"I studied the mob in the bedroom carefully, but Brad wasn't there, either. 
Feeling hollow and suddenly terribly alone, I repulsed a few dozen offers to 
join in the fun, and turned on my heel, first picking up my clothing from 
the bedroom floor, where the garments had fallen in all the uproar. 

"I was on the point of dressing, definitely let down, even with the noises, 
scents and sights working on me to throw out my foolish-feelings and jump 
into the throng. Then I looked up-straight into Brad's sardonically grinning 
face. He had, I realized, just left the bathroom, and he was fully dressed. 
He took my hand, pulled me to-him, and kissed me hard. 

"'It's really impossibly thick in here. I don't have any room to stretch you 
out and suck that beautiful little cunt of yours. What say we try your 
apartment?' 

"Shaking all over as if I hadn't-come half a dozen times already that 
evening, I dumbly nodded and dressed. This time he helped with my things, 
but neither of us bothered doing too good a job-they would be off again in 
minutes. 

"Feeling like a pair of kids, we escaped, leaving the apartment to the 
others and hurried to mine. There, in my marvelously quiet bedroom, Brad 
undressed me, kissing me all over. He sucked my nipples and ran his 
marvelous tongue over every inch of my flesh. By the time he finally used 
his electric tongue on my cunt I - was so hot I came at once. Then we 
twisted into a sixty-nine position, and I swear I came again as much from 
sucking him off as from his sucking at my pussy. 

"We paused only for a cigarette, then Brad was ready again. - He began to 
tease me, using words as skillfully as his fingers and tongue, warning me 
that this special treatment was only for tonight, and then I would have to 
take my place in line at the parties. He was, he teased, a very busy man. 
And even as he spoke I knew that whatever his terms, I was hooked. Hooked on 
his tongue, his touch, his voice, his cock ... Only this time everything 
would be out front, with no put-ons about love. That was the only way to 
satisfy this craving, yet be free to live my own life as I wished. 

"Brad knew a few tricks even I'd missed, somehow, and he began to play with 
me mischievously, touching, prodding, tickling, then leaving me to roll over 
and fake sudden sleep or disinterest. In spite of myself I began to respond, 
and we were at it again, hotly, thickly, sweetly ... so sweetly I came 
another, impossible time ... 

"Finally Brad got up and weakly began to dress. He barely glanced my way, 
his handsome face concentrating on untangling his clothing. 'Listen,' he 
announced finally, 'I won't have time to see you this week. Not before the 
next meeting, anyway. You will be there, won't you?' 

"I wasn't really all that astounded to find myself nodding, promising to be 
there. If that was the only way ... I'd be there if I had to crawl. I'm too 
big a girl to put myself on. I know what I want. 

"'This time I might want you to start the whole thing off. You know, offer 
to suck someone off, dig? It's a great little icebreaker. Then, if you're a 
good little cunt, I may come back here with you ... ' 

"Sighing, I heard myself agree, excitement again slamming my heart against 
my rib cage. What the hell, here we go again, and what was that bit about 
learning from history, anyway ... 

The prognosis for Kristi Y- has to be one of simultaneous optimism and 
pessimism: optimism for the fact that she recognizes the path on which she 
is about to tread as being a thorny one; pessimism because it appears that 
she is nevertheless frustrated enough to go ahead and take that path. What 
she needs is an understanding physician--gynecologist-with whom she can have 
a perfectly honest discussion of her problem-the problem of frigidity. 

 CHAPTER FOUR: Ride 'Em, Cowboy! 

"You probably won't believe this, but I come from a- place called Roundup, 
Montana. It's got a population that you could put in your eye and the most 
rugged wilderness there is. It's my hometown, and maybe that's why everybody 
calls me Cowboy. My real name is Clyde, so I'd much rather they call me 
Cowboy. 

"I had seen so many movies in our one theater about Hollywood that I just 
had to get there and see for myself if all them stories were true. The 
glamour and the women and all. Every female in Hollywood was supposed to be 
a beauty queen from somewhere else, just waiting to be discovered and made a 
star. 

"And them movie stars are simply everywhere. They said-the folks back 
home-that you could walk right down Hollywood Boulevard and see any movie 
star you want, from Sophia Loren to Raquel Welch. And that's exactly what I 
wanted. I had been told by everyone in Roundup, ever since I was in my 
teens, that I was gonna grow up to be a movie star. They all said that I had 
that certain quality-to go along with my curly black hair, crystal blue 
eyes, and six-foot-six hunk of muscle and bone. They all said that I could 
be another Rock Hudson if I had a mind to it. 

"Besides, I was getting tired of the hometown females. There are really only 
two that are fittin' to fuck or even date. Emmylou and Tammisue. Twin 
sisters. The only way you could tell them apart was when they had on 
something that showed their shoulders. Emmylou has a big brown mole on her 
right shoulder and Tammisue doesn't. They used to try and trick me all the 
time, but I finally found out a way to tell them apart that nobody else knew 
about-Tammisue's right breast was bigger than her left by a full two cup 
sizes. She had to wear a falsie in her left bra cup to make them both look 
the same. 

"Now, you're probably wondering how that would help me tell them girls 
apart-that's simple: feel 'em. I was on feeling terms with both girls ever 
since we was little tykes, and so, when we'd meet somewhere, I'd kind of 
slowly move up until I got my elbow or arm right up to that left breast. If 
it felt weird and phony-then it was Tammisue. If it felt all warm and nice 
and firm enough to make me get a hard on, then it was Emmylou. 

"Once in a while I wouldn't be able to get up close to them until it was too 
late, like when they were both together. I couldn't very well go feeling one 
while the other sister looked on. That just would not have been the 
gentlemanly thing to do. 

"If I got both of them together and I couldn't see their shoulders or feel 
their breasts, then I'd just wait for one of them to call the other by name. 
In the meantime, I'd call them 'Girls,' or 'Sweetie,' or something 
noncommital like that. I guess they found out that I couldn't tell them 
apart without some kind of clue, so once in a while the two of them would 
spend the whole fucking evening calling each other 'Sis!' And that used to 
burn me up something fierce! I would get the feeling that I'd like to break 
their frail, pale necks. Just 'cause they were so cute and had real long, 
silky straight hair that hung down to their asses was no reason for them 
trying to take advantage of me. I had always treated them right. I'd fucked 
them everytime they'd asked for it, hadn't I? 

"I learned just about everything I know about sex from those two twins. 
There wasn't a trick they missed-or so I thought. They had showed me things 
I just wouldn't have believed before. 

"Oh, I had had a country boy's sex education, all right-watching the animals 
fucking up a storm, then watching the older kids playing around with each 
other's things, and then hearing my old man and old lady screwing-and 
finally catching a glimpse of them doing it. That was the extent of my 
education until I discovered the Y- twins Both those girls had the hots for 
me ever since I can remember. 

"At first we were just kids and going to school together in that one-room 
school. I didn't pay them much mind except that they were different because 
they both looked exactly alike and even the teacher-old Miss P- was her 
name-couldn't tell which was which. In fact, if one of them had done 
something wrong and was told on, Miss P- would ask them which one had done 
it, and if they didn't confess, then they'd both get punished. That didn't 
seem too fair to me at the time, but I really couldn't be that bothered with 
girls. 

"I guess I was around twelve when the twins got to me. One of them brushed 
against me like she hadn't meant to, and I felt my pecker growing on me. It 
was getting bigger and straighter and I was getting butterflies down inside 
my stomach. It was the weirdest feeling I had ever had. And I wanted more. 

"But I didn't know what it really was that I wanted. It suddenly dawned on 
me that now I was one of the 'older kids' whom I had been watching before. 
It was my time to show and do. So, I invited both girls to follow me to our 
shed out back of the house where we could get better acquainted. It was nice 
and cool and dark in there, and the girls seemed to be in an awful hurry to 
get inside. 

"Once we were all alone together, inside the privacy of that little shed, 
both girls dropped their skirts, removed their blouses and stood there-stark 
naked-for me to stand in awe of. I hadn't never seen a naked female before, 
and here were two identical beauties with titties and swollen slits that 
were hairless but inviting. 

"I looked from one to the other and-couldn't believe my eyes or my luck. 
What they were up to, I didn't really care-all I knew was I had twice as 
much as any other guy could possibly have, and it was prize merchandise! The 
way their hips flared out and their waists nipped in-and those titties stood 
out so straight and high. And nipples so rosy and solid! I felt a little 
faint as I stood there with my mouth open and my pecker aching and twitching 
like mad. 

"'Well, don't just stand there, enjoying the view,' said Emmylou-the one 
with the mole, I had just found out. 

"'No, Clyde, get your clothes off, so we can see what you look like. Emmylou 
and me got a bet going that you're even bigger and better looking underneath 
them clothes than you are right now. So strip!' 

"Tammisue had said that with such conviction that I just did what she said 
and started hauling my shirt out of my jeans. After I had bared my rapidly 
swelling, hairless chest, I slowly began to unbutton my jeans. I'll never 
forget the looks on those two girls' faces as I ever so slowly undid one 
button at a time. They were licking their lips and wiggling their hips and 
eyeballing my crotch like there was a pot of gold inside there. 

"As it turned out-there was-a pot of gold, I mean. Those two girls nearly 
fell over in a dead faint when I undid that last button and hauled my 
britches down to my ankles and off. There, waving in the breeze was my 
six-incher-and I was only twelve then, remember. They cooed and oohed and 
stood there as breathless as I had just- moments before. I was bigger by far 
than they had anticipated. And I was-so bronzed and ripply of muscle that 
they were crazy about me from that moment on. 

"Of course, I was partial to them, too. Hell, who wouldn't be? But that day, 
after we'd showed each other what we had, we began experimenting with our 
tools. I would feel of their titties and they would take turns- squeezing 
old hambone, as I call it, till it was ready to squirt in their young faces. 

"When I stuck my fingers down into their slits, I felt a wet, oozy feeling 
down there like they was leaking oil or something. They smelled all strong 
and interesting. I liked the feel of that soft flesh down there, the 
moistness, and the look on their faces when I touched, them there. In fact, 
that's how I found out that two things really turn a girl on: playing with 
her titties and playing with her pussy. 

"Anyway, that first day in the shed, the three of us just got acquainted 
with one another's bodies. We all felt around and sniffed around and pinched 
here and there. I was really enjoying the hell out of it. And I knew that, 
from the way those two girls were acting, they were going to be visiting my 
shed almost daily. 

"It wasn't until Emmylou got sick one day that I found out what the real 
pleasures of sex could be like. Tammisue came with me after school. The two 
of us, hotter than a bull and a cow, nearly ran all the way to the shed. As 
soon as we entered, we stripped in two seconds flat. We stared at each other 
for one moment, and then we were in each other's arms. For the first time, I 
was actually kissing one of them. It just hadn't seemed right with the two 
of them in the shed at the same time. 

"But here was Tammisue, naked as the day she was born, clinging, to my naked 
body as if nothing in the world would ever part us. She had to strain a 
little to get her mouth up to mine since she was so much shorter than I was, 
even though we were still both young-but I was a growing boy in more ways 
than one! 

"On her tiptoes, Tammisue's lips met mine and something inside me exploded. 
I felt my hambone begin to come to attention, and knew that she was going to 
lead me into something I had never tried before. I really don't know for 
sure if she had done it with any of the other guys around town, but there 
really weren't that many other guys around-especially who were as tall and 
as handsome as me. And please don't get me wrong-I'm not conceited, it's 
just that there were only about five young guys in town who were anywhere 
near my age, and they were definite stand-ins for Dracula's uglier brother. 

"So, Tammisue's excitement over me was nothing to be surprised about. I just 
held her real tight and felt those hard nipples of hers push themselves into 
my chest through all that curly hair. There was something good about being 
with her alone for the very first time. Something exciting and oddly 
satisfying. 

"I picked her up and carried her over to the mound of old clothing we had 
piled in the corner years ago to lay on and play in. As I laid her down, she 
sighed and ran her hands over her entire body, sensuously, as if to tell me 
that she really wanted my hambone. 

"Before I gave it to her, I felt her all over with my own hands, touching 
her soft but firm flesh, tingling to the heavy smell of musk in the air and 
the aching hardness of that old ham-bone of mine. This was gonna be one of 
the good times-a time to remember. And Tammisue wasn't gonna forget it too 
soon, either. 

"Slowly, I lapped at her rigid nipples till her entire rear end was in 
motion. She was wriggling all around, trying to capture that hambone into 
her pussy. But I was saving that for later. 

"I licked some more and then began sucking -hard on the larger of the two 
nipples. That really sent her off her nut! Her hips were flying and-her 
fingernails were clawing into my sweating flesh. That only made everything 
that much more intense! I was getting harder and stiffer-and it was getting 
harder to hold back. 

"Really, I had only one -thing on my mind: to fuck the living hell out of 
Tammisue. But that foreplay, that teasing, taunting, up-to-the-edge foreplay 
that nearly drove me wild with passion and had already made a lustful animal 
out of poor Tammisue was what got me so that there was no turning back. Even 
if the preacher and his whole congregation were to walk into the shed at 
that very moment-I could not have turned back any more than I could have 
turned myself into a woman! 

"I could smell her love juices spilling over-that fantastic heavy odor of 
musk-a woman in heat-that perfume of nature which was so heady that I could 
barely keep from raping her. I knew she was ready for me, that she could 
take me now and never flinch. It was now or never, so I aimed my hambone at 
her dripping pussy hole and let go full blast. 

"She screamed at the top of her lungs as my rod rammed home. It was pain and 
joy and ecstasy all rolled into one passionate scream. Then- there were only 
soft moaning sounds of pure pleasure. My own sighs and groans blended with 
hers and we made a harmonic melody of fucking. 

"Tammisue's educated hips were twirling. She knew what the hell she was 
doing-there was no doubts about that. And my hambone knew that she knew! And 
made the most of it! 

"It was hard for me to hold back. I wanted it to last forever, but that old 
hambone was just about ready to go off with the biggest bang ever. I was 
fast approaching the point of no return. Once I had reached that point, all 
I could do would be to pump as hard and as fast as I possibly could until I 
blew my brains out through my pecker. 

"When that moment came, I howled like one of the farm animals and then 
thrust my pecker as deep into Tammisue's sopping pussy as I could and left 
it there. Throbbing pulsations rushed through me as liquid fire gushed up 
from my balls and out into her waiting womb. Her own shrill shriek joined 
mine as her hips convulsed and her back arched. She was coming, too-and big. 
That made me feel twice as good as before. 

"For a guy to be able to make a girl come is something special-the icing on 
the cake. To make yourself come inside a female's pussy. is fine and tough, 
but to feel that same female's body convulse because of your hambone's 
magical powers-that's really heavy stuff! 

"After having had Tammisue all by herself once, I decided that there was no 
percentage in inviting both girls to the shed at the same time. It was much 
more erotic to have just one at a time. Sometimes they would both come with 
me, but one of them would wait outside until I was finished with the other. 
That way things worked out pretty good. 

"But, finally, I got bored with the whole thing. Oh, sure-I had it made. But 
there was more to life than a pair of twins named Emmylou and Tammisue. And 
folks in town had kept telling me, the older I got, that I was bound to 
become a movie star. And I was beginning to believe them. Hell, I had 
everything I wanted in Roundup-it was time for me to move on. To Hollywood, 
of course. 

"When I got off the bus at the Vine Street terminal, I truly didn't know 
where to go or what to do. I went up to Sunset Boulevard, and then on up to 
that famous Hollywood and Vine I had heard so much about-and didn't see one 
movie - star inside of two hours of looking and gawking like some hick 
tourist. 

"In fact, all I saw were a bunch of dirty hippies like I had read about that 
were disturbing the universities, a pack of queers, and some whores all 
painted up like they was gonna be in the school play. Frankly, I didn't know 
what to make of Hollywood. I was really confused. 

"But, using my head, I bought me a paper and looked through the ads for 
apartments for rent. There were all sorts of advertisements for single 
people-furnished apartments with swimming pool and billiard room and 
barbecue pits. It was enough to nearly blow my mind. 

"I got me a taxi and headed for the first apartment on the list. It was big 
and gaudy and fancy as all hell. And when I walked into the opening that led 
to the manager's apartment according to the signs, there were all kinds of 
gorgeous females sunning themselves out by the pool. I don't truly know 
which impressed me more-those beautiful bodies or that gigantic blue 
swimming pool with slide and all. I had never seen either before. 

"The manager took one look at me and summed me up for the hick I was. 

"'This is a singles apartment for swingers, sonny,' she said in a deep 
whiskey voice. 'Are you sure you know what you're in for here?' 

"Trying my damnedest to make like a city slicker, I grinned and nodded my 
head vigorously. Then I eyed the females by the pool and looked back at the 
manager. She wasn't too bad, herself. Her knockers must have been at least 
38s. I eyed them for a long time before I made real eye contact. 

"When I did, she was smiling broadly and motioning for me to come on in. She 
was going to show me the few vacant apartments she had left. And let me know 
the ground rules. It turned out that this was a sex-oriented apartment 
house. Just perfect for my needs. Everyone there swung-and that means 
fucked. They all did whatever came naturally. And there were various parties 
given during the week and on weekends when all the people would get together 
and have a mass sex orgy. 

"Now, that was my idea of Hollywood, and I rented the first apartment she 
showed me. But before I signed that lease, she made sure that I wasn't a 
queer or anything perverted like that. She said she didn't allow no queens 
or S/Ms in the place-whatever the hell that was. I was so nave that I 
didn't even know what S/M meant! How about that! 

"Shortly after I moved in, I had a little surprise in store for me. I found 
out the hard way that no one in the entire stinking joint fucked! All they 
did was suck! This was a sort of a sucking club and all the members lived on 
the premises! Man, was it embarrassing the way I found out that I had signed 
a two years lease on an apartment in a strictly sucking apartment building!" 

The entire narrative of Clyde S- has to be viewed with calculated 
skepticism. Anyone who is as narcissistic as the subject of this case is, 
tends to have a strong inclination to exaggerate, suppress, and, generally, 
to distort reality. As a matter of fact, narcissism, which in a great number 
of cases is a defense -mechanism that attempts to conceal or suppress an 
inferiority complex, is a subconscious springboard for what might be termed 
psychopathological prevarications. 

What can be accepted in the subject's narrative is that he is a country boy 
of a very limited education who is very much in love with himself because he 
is very much conscious of his inadequacies as a human being. Consequently, 
he tries his utmost to present himself in the image of what might be 
colloquially called "an irresistible stud." Even here, however, one must be 
cautious in discerning truth from fantasy. Thus his description of his 
affair with the young twins-Emmylou and Tammisue-out in the country is more 
than likely heavily colored. It is extremely doubtful that twelve-year-old 
girls, especially raised out in the country, would have carried on with the 
lack of aplomb natural to a city whore, which is the picture that the 
subject paints of the twins. It is also extremely doubtful that at such an 
early age either the girls or the subject had had enough background to 
engage in the sexual activities that he describes. Whatever the truth of 
that period in the life of the subject might have been, the fact remains 
that he found himself "bored" with the twins and decided to come out to 
Hollywood so that the rest of the world wouldn't miss out-in his opinion-on 
his existence. 

It does not take an expert to recognize the fantasy world in which the 
subject exists, deluding himself with the grandeur of his being. The 
necessity of such a delusion is understandable when one accepts the fact 
that without it the subject must recognize himself for what he is: 
specifically, a male adult-physically-caught within immaturity-mentally. 

In The Complete Home Medical Encyclopedia, Harold T. Hyman has the following 
to say on narcissism, homosexuality, and heterosexual maturation: 

Together with functional and anatomic changes, processes of maturation take 
place in the psyche. As Freud first pointed out, the infant is wholly 
concerned with its own genital equipment (narcissism: from Narcissus, the 
lad who fell in love with his own image in a quiet pool). Arriving at school 
age, the interests and affections of boy or girl center on companions of the 
same sex (homosexuality; lesbianism or sapphism in the case of the female, 
uranism in the case of the male). And, while these youthful "crushes" are 
often nonphysical, they may include temporary experimentation with acts of 
overt genitalism (mutual masturbation; sodomy; fellatio; tribadism). 

By high school age or before, interests and affections shift to individuals 
of the opposite sex (heterosexual maturation); sometimes with overwhelming 
intensity, as the boy becomes "girl crazy" (gynephilia) and the girl becomes 
"boy crazy" (anthrophilia). Finally, love interest focuses on "the one and 
only ..." 

It is apparent that the subject of this case is caught in a conflict between 
maturation and reluctance to mature. He is torn between being a man and 
enjoying the status of a boy; there is the overwhelming egocentricity with 
which he is trying to conceal his fears of not being able actually to 
satisfy a woman. His description of his taking Tammisue sexually in the shed 
notwithstanding. 

In addition to narcissism, Clyde S- is constantly fearful of being taken for 
a homosexual. This fear is natural within the context of his narcissistic 
problem: he is constantly commenting on the attractiveness of his physique 
in general, and his genitals in particular. He must be subconsciously aware 
that if he finds his own male organ so precious in his own eyesight, then 
there is constantly the threat that a) some other male will see him as he 
sees himself, or that b) he will be attracted toward another male for the 
same reason that he is attracted to himself. This attitude, of course, 
underscores the fact that basically Clyde is quite ignorant of human 
sexuality. His attitude toward oral lovemaking is a case in point: he 
cringes at the idea of a woman performing fellatio on him; to him that type 
of sexual activity suggests homosexuality. And homosexuality as a possible 
end result of the subject's narcissism can not at this stage of analysis be 
ruled out. Particularly when one considers the situation in which Clyde S- 
finds himself toward the end of his narrative. 

His having signed a two years' lease in an apartment building complex in 
which oral swapping is, so to speak, the rule of the land, is a move-whether 
conscious or, as the subject claims, unconscious, is irrelevant-that will 
more than likely do nothing other than strengthen his narcissistic 
tendencies and, possibly, place him in a position where his bisexual nature 
will be revealed to him, thereby playing an even greater havoc with his 
psyche since he will undoubtedly be then "convinced" of his homosexuality. 

Perhaps the only encouraging statement that the subject makes, providing it 
is true, is that whenever he feels the urge for regular sexual intercourse 
he finds himself a mate outside the apartment building complex. Even here, 
however, if one analyzes the terminology that Clyde uses in the making of 
the preceding statement, which can be found in the last paragraph of his 
narrative, one cannot help but notice his general attitude toward the female 
sex. It is a derogatory one. Women, in the subject's eyes, are to be used 
sexually, nothing more. They are a masturbatory apparatus for the 
gratification of his sexual wants. At no -time in his narrative does Clyde 
mention emotional involvement or the possibility of such as far as he is 
concerned. And this omission supports the general conclusion that the 
subject is an immature, egotistical, and highly unstable individual. 

One of the primary concomitants of emotional involvement is responsibility. 
Clyde S-, because of his emotional immaturity, has never considered becoming 
a man in the full sense of the word. He is too wrapped up with the image of 
his questionable studhood, with the complex of inferiority that conflicts 
with that image, and with the phobia of finding out what life is all about. 

"I'll never forget how fast I moved into that fancy city apartment of mine. 
The main reason being that I was in one helluva hurry to get out to the pool 
so I could meet as many females as possible before the evening began. The 
manager had assured me that everything was very loose here and that all the 
tenants were exceedingly friendly. 

"Naturally, I wanted to put that friendliness and looseness to the test as 
quickly as possible. All I had to do was to move in as rapidly as I could 
without calling attention to my obvious eagerness, and then I could prowl 
around and size up the female situation at close range. 

"My plush apartment had a fancy long living room with built-in book shelves, 
a metal-covered fireplace, the thickest carpeting I had ever seen, and a a 
real, live balcony I could walk out on and look out over the pool. 

"Back home, everyone had told me to be especially careful to get myself an 
upper apartment if there was more than one floor to the building I was gonna 
be living in. That way I wouldn't have to put up with anyone's tromping over 
my head all the time. Instead, I would be the one doing the tromping. That's 
how come I came to get a second-floor apartment-there were only two floors 
to the huge building. It must have run for miles and miles, but only along 
the ground, not up ... like some. 

"As soon as all my gear was stowed away, I learned where everything was-from 
the bathroom with that huge mirror, to the bedroom with its king-size bed 
and matching furniture. Man, there were more closets than I could ever have 
filled! The kitchen didn't interest me any, since I was sure I could get all 
the dolls I wanted to to make my meals for me. But I did remember the 
manager telling me something about what soap to use in the dishwasher and 
what not to put in the disposal. I can't even remember to this day what she 
said-only that she said something about them. 

"Anyway, out to the pool I ran. I was in my swim trunks from Harvey's Food 
and Grain Shop that also carried a small line of clothes. Suddenly I felt a 
little odd. I was in real tight, woolen trunks that had no support to them 
and showed everything I owned. None of the other guys were dressed that way. 
Most of them had on bikinis, I was to find out later, and looked real sharp. 
I really must have looked like the hick of the year. 

"But, for some reason that I didn't realize then, the girls all perked up 
the moment I set foot out there. I learned later that it was my huge 
basket-that's my hambone and balls-that had them all hot and interested. 
Most of them-reckoned that if my basket wasn't padded with something like 
the faggots do, then I must really have something worth looking into. 

"To tell you the truth, I hadn't really grown that much since I was that 
twelve-year-old punk in the shed wit-h the twins. My six-incher had only 
grown into a nine-incher. I had fully expected a doubling of its length and 
width, since I nearly doubled in height. But, no such luck. As it was, 
though, the girls really went wild over what I did have. 

"I strolled casually around the pool, waiting for someone to make the first 
move. I was really too damned scared and shy to start anything myself. 

"I may have been a tiger back home-but back home is back home, and Hollywood 
is sophisticated as all hell. I felt about as out of place as an elephant in 
a bathtub. But I was going to make the most of it, so I sauntered on around 
the full length of the pool and back the other side. 

"I could feel all eyes on me-even those that weren't even looking in my 
direction; my imagination made them nearly pierce me through. I was the 
center of-attention-my basket and me, that is-and I could sense a lump 
tightening up inside my stomach as I made the curve and started back toward 
the way I had come. 

"Suddenly an absolutely gorgeous redhead who was sunning herself without 
benefit of bra pulled herself up high on her elbows so that her tits and 
nipples showed and called for me to come over to her. She asked me to oil 
her back for her. I did it almost mechanically, scared shitless. 

"As my hambone started to swell from the contact my fingers had made with 
her soft, tan back, I tensed even more and tried to pull away. I wanted to 
get the hell out of there before everyone in the whole damned place saw my 
erection and laughed me right out of existence. 

"Sensing something wrong, she said in a purring voice, 'Thanks, big boy. My 
name is Samantha. But all my. friends call me Sam. Ummmmm, that feels so 
good-don't stop now. Ohhhhh, that's good!' 

"Totally forgetting my erection, I was dumbstruck by her name-Sam! 

"'Sam?' I repeated almost to myself. 'What kind of a name is that for a 
beautiful girl like you?' 

"'I kind of like it,' she replied, turning a little so she could look me in 
the eye. 'I was named after my maternal grandfather and I loved him very 
much. Actually, I'm very proud to be named after him-and the name is kicky, 
anyway.' Her eyes kind of crinkled up as she smiled a little impish smile. 
'By the way, big boy, what's your name and where did it come from?' 

"Well, here it comes, I gulped to myself. 'Everybody calls me Cowboy. But 
that isn't my real name,' I hedged. 'My real name is ... is ... well, hell! 
My real name is Clyde. And I was named after my father's prize-winning hog. 
Okay?' 

"She was laughing so hard that her makeup was running from the tears. 'Oh, 
Cowboy, you are the funniest yet! That beats 'em all! Really, it does! You 
are going to be the life of the parties around here with a sense of humor 
like that!' 

"I sat there, my heart first in my throat, then light as air, as I realized 
that not only had she not believed me, she had thought I was joking. It was 
all true, all right, but if it made a funny joke-then I'd tell everyone. 
They'd all think it was a joke and no one would ever know that I really had 
been named after Pa's prize hog. 

"Samantha rolled over and her huge bronzed tits stood straight up at me. My 
mouth went dry and my jaw went loose. I tried to cover my shock and 
embarrassment of seeing a nearly naked lady out in public as best I could, 
but I truly couldn't! I mean, there she was with more showing than I had 
ever seen outside of Tammisue and Emmylou-and she was laying there in full 
view of everybody and the Lord up above! 

"'Oh, I'm sorry,' she said quickly and grabbed for her matching halter that 
went with that tiny piece of material she considered the bottom of her 
bathing suit. 'I didn't mean to shock you right off. I forgot that you're 
new here-and a cowboy, at that. I bet all you've ever seen is a whole bunch 
of naked cows and horses-and sheep,' she said with the wickedest twinkle in 
her eye. 

"'Hell, ma'am, it's all right. I been around in my time, but I never did see 
anyone naked or even bared out in public before, and that's the truth.' 

"She smiled and laughed a twinkling little laugh. 'Oh, Cowboy, if you stay 
here, that'll all change.' Suddenly her face lit up like Christmas and New 
Year's all at once. 'Hey, are you going to be at the-party at Wendy's 
tonight? I bet that old battle-axe of a manager forgot to let you know about 
it.' 

"'You're right, she did forget. What party and when and where?' I said too 
eagerly. 

'"It's one of the regular parties at Wendy's-that's Apartment 238-at nine 
o'clock tonight. Wendy has a huge, two-bedroom affair that's really set up 
with all the best of everything. Wait till you see! You are coming, of 
course?' 

"'Of coarse!' 

"I could hardly wait for my first party at this 'swinging' apartment. There 
was going to be sex and booze and all the things that were forbidden back 
home. To say that I could hardly wait was the understatement of the year! 

"When nine o'clock rolled around, I was ready. I had put on my fancy duds 
and felt really decked out. I was really going to impress those luscious 
females that were going to be there! I just knew it-I felt it in my 
bones-especially in my hambone!. 

"When I got to number 238, there was no doubt in my mind that a party was 
going on-in fact, was in full swing already. Music was blaring and I could 
smell the almost-sickening odor of incense and something else that I 
couldn't-quite make out, but it was sweet, too. 

"I didn't have to knock-the door was ajar and I just sort of pushed at it 
till it was open enough for me to see inside. Then, slowly, cautiously, I 
edged my way through the small opening and entered an entirely new scene. 
Bright lights were flashing in time with the music and the music was loud 
and bouncy and almost hypnotizing. It felt as if it were your own heartbeat 
that was being serenaded. 

"It was several seconds before I realized that very few of the people had 
any clothes on. There were naked, or seminaked bodies, everywhere-on 
pillows, on a round waterbed in the center of the huge living room, on the 
thickly carpeted floor-everywhere! It was like one large mass of 
bodies-males tangled up with females-all entwined and doing their thing. 

"As my eyes got used to the light, I saw Samantha-I mean, Sam-sitting over 
in a corner by herself. She was holding a little piece of metal that was 
holding what was left of a camel or a Lucky Strike. I didn't know that city 
folks smoked those brands-I always thought city people smoked only them 
filtered brands with the fancy names. 

"As I got closer to her, Sam squinted her eyes at me and waved. She had 
recognized me! I felt a sudden tingle shoot through my body and head 
straight for my hambone. I was ready for her-and I hoped with every nerve of 
my body that she was ready for me. I was going to fuck the living daylights 
out of her and let her know what my hambone was really all about. 

"Sam held out her hand as I approached. She seemed a little drunk or 
something. Not quite normal. It wasn't until much later that I found out 
that she and most of the others used marihuana. It seems that it heightened 
the sexual senses a great deal. But, what I never could figure out was what 
needed heightening? I had never had any trouble with my orgasms-and neither 
had Tammisue or Emmylou. So, I really could never figure out the hang-ups of 
these city folk who were supposed to be so much better than us country 
people. 

"'You're too damned dressed!' Sam nearly yelled at me. The music was a bit 
loud. 'For Christ's sake, Cowboy, get out of those threads before the fuzz 
comes and busts you for decent exposure. Man, don't let everyone see how 
square you are-let your dick hang out or something.' 

"Frankly, I truly couldn't understand half of what she was saying to me-it 
was a totally foreign language as far as I was concerned- but, that last 
part I heard, understood, and complied. Reaching down, I unzipped my 
trousers, pulled back my undershorts' flap, and hauled old hambone out for 
all the world to see. 

"Even with all the music going on, there seemed to be a hush in the room. I 
didn't realize what had caused it, but I would have died if I had known it 
was the exposing of the old hambone that had done it. I had more meat on me 
than any other guy in the place, and I didn't realize it then. I had always 
been disappointed with it. It seemed too short to do much with. 

"Sam grabbed it right off and, dropping her cigarette in the nearest 
ashtray, she lunged at me with her mouth wide open. I was so startled that I 
pulled away slightly. But she ignored the motion and followed. She slipped 
her warm, moist lips around my quickly growing hambone and began to suck 
lightly on the head. 

"My head began to spin and my knees nearly gave out from under me! A female 
was actually sucking on my hambone-and it felt fucking good! I thought only 
fairies sucked, but it felt too damned good! I stood there, swaying back and 
forth as Sam sucked and licked on the length of my shaft. I couldn't hear 
the music anymore, or see anything but the lights from the inside-my eyes 
were shut tight-and smell the sweet odor of incense and sweat and marihuana. 

"As she sucked on my pecker, she started to pull my trousers down around my 
ankles. I felt cool air brushing against my bare flesh and shivered 
slightly. 

"While Sam squeezed the firm shaft of my hambone and sucked and licked it, 
two other hands took hold of my balls and began playing with them. It was 
the weirdest feeling I had ever experienced! Two females were working on me 
at the same time, and both of them were doing perverted things that felt 
damned good-too damned good to be perverted! 

"My whole body was shaking from the sexual excitement I was experiencing. I 
was taken back to that first time I had made little Tammisue come-how her 
entire body had shaken and writhed under mine-how she had loved every minute 
of it. That must have been what I was feeling right then with two females 
pulling and tugging, and licking and sucking. It was almost more, I thought, 
than I could stand. 

"What really got to me was when I felt another female's hands behind me. 
They grasped my ass cheeks and kneaded them like my ma had used to knead 
dough. It felt good-awfully good, along with the rest. Then, the female in 
back pulled my ass cheeks apart and I could feel hot breath on my bare 
asshole. 

"I stiffened. It was the first time and I couldn't keep myself calm. This 
was definitely a queer act, but it felt so fucking good along with that 
female on my balls and Sam on my hambone .that I just couldn't tell whoever 
it was to stop doing it to me, that I wasn't no queer. 

"Then I felt a tongue-hot and moist-brush against my twitching asshole as 
brazenly as if I were a queer. I wanted to shout out that I was not a 
pansy-that I was a he-man, but it felt too fucking good. I just gritted my 
teeth and stood there while the three females licked and sucked and tugged 
and pulled and caressed and did everything that they possibly could to make 
me come. 

"I finally did come when that female in back of me stiffened her tongue and 
plunged it right inside my asshole! It felt like electricity running through 
me and I just hollered bloody murder and let loose two gallons of pure cream 
down Sam's beautiful throat. 

"Sam didn't budge, but just stayed right where she was, drinking down my 
cream as if it were vanilla flavored. The other two females were really 
going to work on me-one poking her stiffened tongue in and out of my asshole 
while the other yanked at my shrunk-up balls. I felt as if I had died and 
gone to Heaven and was being rewarded by the angels. 

"When I stopped twitching and started to relax, Sam took over and shooed the 
other two girls away. She had me sit down next to her while she kissed my 
face and lips. I could taste my own cream on her lips and smell it on her 
breath. It was strong, like ammonia, but there was a slight musky odor 
there, too. 

"Females in heat always give off a musky odor from their mouths when they 
really are hot to trot. I learned that from Tammisue and Emmylou. It works 
every time. If a female wants a good fucking, she starts breathing a light 
musky smell. Funny, ain't it? 

"Anyway, after I had recovered slightly from everything that had happened, I 
looked Sam right in the eye in all earnest and said: 'Samantha, I am not no 
queer! How come all you girls treated me like one?' 

"Sam laughed, that little tinkle I have since gotten so used to, and pointed 
around the room. For the first time I actually looked at something other 
than the blinding lights and the smoke. There were people-bodies I had 
vaguely seen-and I saw them for the first time. There's a difference between 
looking at something and actually seeing it. 

"What I saw was couples sucking each other. Females sucking guys' peckers 
and guys licking out females' pussies-and some doing both at the same time. 
That, I found out later, was sixty-nining it. When both female and male suck 
each Other at the same time. And I found that it wasn't just for queers. The 
most masculine of guys were there, sucking away at gals, and having their 
balls and peckers sucked, and their aasholes reamed by some obliging tongue. 

"That was how I found out that I had moved into an apartment building that 
housed a sex club-an oral sex club. After I got to know everyone and what 
was what, it suddenly dawned on me why the manager had stressed that no 
faggots or S/Ms were allowed. Faggots were queers and S/Ms were 
sadomasochistic nuts who like to hurt and be hurt. Everything started to 
fall into place. 

"I never did find out why no fucking was allowed, but whenever I felt the 
need for the old hambone to rip into a fresh pussy, I'd just take me a 
stroll down the boulevard and pick up some fresh cunt ..." 

The prognosis for Clyde S- is that eventually-unless his current attitudes 
are altered through contact with a mature and understanding female with whom 
an emotional involvement might develop-he will find himself where he fears 
to be: in a homosexual sphere. 

 CHAPTER FIVE: No One Was Drunk 

"This line of questioning is ridiculous and totally unnecessary: Besides, it 
is exceedingly humiliating. I shall see that you pay dearly for 
this-invasion of my privacy. Treating me as if I were a common criminal! Do 
you know who I am? I am Mrs. George D- S- and I have a home in the most 
exclusive Section of the city. A mansion, really. 

"This coat I'm wearing. Sable. It probably cost more than a petty tyrant 
like you earns in a year. I have my own Jaguar, a station wagon just for 
shopping, and two-yes, two Continentals. You can't subject a person like 
that to the offensive third degree through which you're putting me. 

"So it's not a third degree. So you don't use third degree. Call it a 
psychiatric examination if you wish, but I consider it an impertinent and 
offensive invasion of my privacy. And you'll pay dearly for it. 

"Do you know whose yacht that is that was raided? You'll go pale when you 
hear the name. It had weight in this city-in this country- even in all of 
Europe. I suggest you crawl under that desk right now, before the roof falls 
in on you. 

"So you've been threatened before? Well, I'm not threatening you. I'm just 
warning you. The raid on that yacht was entirely a mistake. Oh, I know who 
engineered it. That little pipaqueak! The very idea! Calling the coast 
patrol to say we were aground! Ridiculous! Well, yes. The yacht was aground. 
Somewhat. On a sand shelf. She'd have floated off by morning. In fact, she 
did. 

"And that little pipsqueak, that social upstart, had the audacity to suggest 
that the patrol- take along a gendarme as there was a drunken orgy going on 
aboard. 

"A drunken orgy! Absurd. No one was drunk. Oh, some of us had had a social 
drink or two, but no one was what you'd call drunk. Well, maybe Andy C-, but 
then he's permanently drunk. I don't see why anyone puts up with him, except 
that he's filthy rich. Certainly he's no good on a party like that. Just 
drinks until he passes out. And occupies a cabin sleeping it off. A cabin 
that could be put to far better use, at a party like that. 

"A party like that? Well, it was just asocial evening, a gathering of 
friends with the same interests. What's any party? Are you trying to put me 
on the defensive? Let's just say it was a party. Aboard a yacht. Quite a 
magnificent yacht, beautifully fitted out. I understand it cost a fortune. I 
wish we could afford ... Maybe, if George lands that contract, we can get 
... 

"An orgy? Don't be absurd! Of course not. Just a quiet gathering of friends 
with the same interests ... 

"I resent that! I don't care what the report says. I had just slipped off my 
dress so as not to wrinkle it while I took a little nap. A brief rest. Yes, 
that was it. Just a brief rest. 

"So I didn't have any clothes on! Is that criminal? It was a warm night. So 
I slipped out of my clothes. What's wrong with that? 

"Let me see that report! I demand ... All right. All right. The police may 
have seen a man in my cabin. Quite possibly. That would be Earl. Earl J-. 
Surely you've heard of him. He owns ... Well, he probably dropped by to see 
how I was. Just friendly interest. 

"In the buff? What a crude expression! He may have appeared nude, but on the 
boat most of us wore swimsuits. His could have been quite negligible. And 
been mistaken for nudity. Certainly you've seen bathing trunks that. 

"I deny that! The police couldn't have seen his head between my legs and his 
penis in my mouth ... I deny ... Oh, God, how did I ever get into a mess 
like this? How did I ever get involved with that horrible crowd? They're 
degenerates! And now I'm one of them! Whore, strumpet, cocksucker! 

"Is my mascara running? I must look a mess. Please. Thank you for the 
handkerchief. Yes, I would like to wash my face ... There. I feel better 
now. Almost human. 

"I can even face up to the fact of what I am, what I have become. It's not a 
pretty story ... Well, I suppose so. You must be used to stories that aren't 
so pretty. Also, telling the story might help to orient myself. Might help 
me get a new perspective. Perhaps, even, a new life. 

"Take a good look at me. How, old would you say I am? Thirty? Thirty-five? 
You say you never attempt to guess a woman's age? Very smart of you. I'm 
twenty-six. I look thirty-five without makeup and I feel a hundred. That's 
what four years of 'playing games' has done to me. 

"Oh, understand, I like oral sex. You might say, I'm hooked on it. As far as 
I'm concerned, there's nothing wrong with oral sex. I like it. I have liked 
it for years. It's not that. It's the oral club angle that has gotten me 
down. Being available to any man who wants me. Being a whore at it. 

"That's what I am, an oral whore. And my husband is my pimp. Oh, he doesn't 
do it for cash. That's too crude even for him. He does it for his clients. 
He's got a lot of really big accounts-now. For which he peddled my cunt. And 
my cocksucking mouth. 

"I'm partly to blame. Maybe wholly to blame. I wanted that house on the 
Riviera and the Jaguar and the station wagon. The two Continentals are pure 
swank. But I wanted that sable coat. That represents the J- account. And we 
got it because I let Earl J- go down on me-and I sucked him off. 

"'Oh, I've got no excuses. I needled George for those things-and he found 
the way to get them. Peddling my cunt and mouth. And I didn't mind. At 
first. I'd been taking my sex that way for years. Before I ever met George. 

"I started on sex when I was in junior high. At about fourteen. Not that I 
really meant to, as it happens. But every girl is curious about sex. Boys, 
too, I guess. At that age. Until they've tried it. Then they're usually 
hooked on it. Sex is easy to get hooked on. Because it's pretty basic, I 
suppose. 

"At fourteen I was pretty well developed, with nice legs. They had quit 
looking like baseball bats with knobby knees. And I had a real cute little 
rump. My tits were kind of new to me then and they bothered me some. I never 
knew quite what to do about them, you know. Hug my books up against me going 
home, alone at my desk so they wouldn't be noticed, or just let 'em stick 
out. Sometimes I tried one and sometimes the other. It didn't seem to make 
much difference. Inside me. I was just so conscious of 'em. And the way my 
nipples would get hard and stir things up. 

"So I was what you might call ripe for what happened. Ellen, my best girl 
friend, who was also fourteen, and had had 'experiences' with boys, asked me 
over to her house, to help her baby-sit her kid brother, who was six. She 
giggled on the phone and said Jim might drop by and if I could come, she'd 
ask him to bring Al. She knew I sort of liked Al. In fact, I had a crush .on 
him, but he'd never much noticed me. He played drums with a combo and sang a 
little, so he had plenty of girls. 

"I asked Mom if I could go-only I didn't mention the boys. After all, they 
might not turn up. So Mom let me go, even if I wasn't going to get paid. I 
made most of my own money babysitting. Not that we were really poor. There 
just never seemed to be enough money to go around-for things like blouses 
and hip-huggers and boots-the things a girl really needs, only parents don't 
always see it. 

"Ellen met me at the door, giggling, and said the boys were already there 
but we couldn't make any noise because her kid brother would wake up. And he 
was a pest. Even asleep, he was a pest, because that meant we couldn't 
dance. And if you can't dance, what is there to do? 

"I found out. 

"Sex. 

"Al was there, slumped on the couch. He looked up, sort of sullen, as if 
he'd been dragged to something he didn't like and hadn't any use for. He 
looked real sharp, though, in awning-striped pants and a black leather 
jacket, even if he didn't ride a motorcycle. 

"Ellen grabbed Jim's arm, as if she were afraid I might snatch him-and him I 
wouldn't have. He was long and gawky, with a big mop of hair not long enough 
to be hippie, just mop. She introduced me to Al, as if we didn't see each 
other every day at school. He didn't get up, just patted the couch and said, 
'Park it, kid. We'll get around to what for later.' 

"Ellen giggled and said, 'Isn't he cute? I'm going to take Jim out and show 
him something. So you two just sit and chat ... ' 

"And I'll bet she did show him something. Everything she had. Tits, rump, 
cunt and all. 

"That left me in an awkward spot, standing there with my bare face hanging 
out. What can you say? To a boy. Now, if we'd even had one dance, that would 
break the ice and things would have gone along naturally, just yakking. Not 
that I cared so much what boys yakked about, but they're boys, aren't they? 
And I'm talking to 'em. Maybe, during the dance, letting him feel me up a 
little. Just enough to get things warmed up but never letting one of 'em get 
to home plate. Up to then. But what can you do when there's nothing but a 
boy and a couch. A feeling-up then can lead to all sorts of things. 

"So I sat down in the big chair opposite. A real deep chair that's not easy 
to get out of, and that hikes a miniskirt way up, which I honestly hadn't 
thought about. I knew it pretty quick, though, when I saw Al looking. And 
the way he looked. I realized then that I had on my skimpiest panties, 
meaning to show 'em to Mom as proof I needed some new ones. 

"Pulling down the miniskirt would be like pulling down a cellophane window 
shade-just calling attention to what I knew I was showing. So I just sat 
there, letting him look. And, to be honest, getting a little hot in my 
britches because of it. 

"Al patted the couch a couple of times, kind of inviting, but I didn't move, 
some because I was nervous and some because that chair was hard to get out 
of. Along about then Al grinned. A real meaningful grin. I don't know how I 
knew it was a meaningful grin or really what it meant, but I knew it and I 
could make a pretty good guess at what it meant. 

"Al got up, slow and sort of stinky, and slouched across to the chair, 
easing himself down on the arm and grinning down at me. And looking right 
down my blouse, to my titties. He reached over with one hand and slid it 
inside my blouse, right on my breast. 

"I almost leaped out of the chair then, only I couldn't. I could just give a 
sort of convulsive wiggle that shook my boobs. I guess it looked like I 
meant to ... I mean, shake them at him. Because he slid down into the chair, 
shoving me over, still keeping one hand on my tit. 

"Oh, it was exciting, all right. And scary. I'd never let a boy actually 
feel them before. Heat started up in them and spread down my stomach and 
seemed to center down at my cunt. I tried to wiggle out but we were wedged 
into that chair and I couldn't. Maybe I didn't wiggle as hard as I should 
have. And maybe I should have yelled. Only I couldn't. My mouth felt full of 
hot cotton. 

"Al slid his other hand down on my leg, smoothing the inside of my thigh and 
reaching up, just touching my pussy. I tried to push his hand away but I 
couldn't get any leverage. Besides, I was beginning to feel weak. And 
shaking. And very hot. So I stopped and lay back, just letting his hands 
roam. 

"He slid out of the chair and fumbled with my panties until he got them off. 
I might even have helped some. Then, for a minute or two, he just knelt 
there, looking right at my cunt and breathing heavy. 

"Suddenly he reached for me and draped me over the big, cushiony arm of the 
chair, my legs hanging over the side and my miniskirt up to my navel, with 
the rest of me down in the seat of the chair. 

"He came around to stand by the arm, between my legs, looking. Then he 
started feeling me up again, running his fingers right into my cunt until I 
was gasping for breath. And I needed it. My chest felt so tight I could have 
worn a three-sizes smaller bra, if I wore a bra. 

"He tugged off my miniskirt and opened my blouse, so I was as good as naked, 
with my tits standing up and my nipples so hard they ached. He played with 
them for a minute or so, kind of rough, edging in tighter on me and 
spreading my legs. He looked down at me, questioningly. 'You had your Pill?' 

"For a moment I didn't know what he meant. Lots of kids in our school are on 
pills, pep pills, mostly. So I said, 'I never touch reds.' That's what we 
called them, 'reds.' 

"Al grunted. 'I didn't mean that kind of pill. The Pill. So you won't get a 
baby. No, you little boobie. I guess you didn't. What did you think this was 
gonna be? A knitting circle?' Al scrabbled in his pockets and groaned. 'And 
I ain't got a condom. God damn! And I sure don't mean to fix us up with no 
kid. Jim's got some ... ' He glanced at the closed door of Ellen's room. 
'Only I don't think he wants to be interrupted.' 

"He looked back at my cunt and my boobies and sighed. 'And I ain't about to 
give up that nice piece of flesh! So I'll eat it. Eat it up, hair and all.' 
Not that I had much hair down there. Just a sort of downy fuzz. 

"If I could have talked I'd have said, 'Let's quit.' At least, I think I 
would have. Except that right then I just wanted-well, I wasn't sure what I 
wanted, but I sure wanted it bad. My whole insides were on fire with the 
want, with most of the heat right in my cunt. I think I'd have taken on a 
dog about then. A big dog. Not that I ever have. 

"I watched Al slide down to the floor, until his eyes just peeped over my 
mound. His hands went on playing with my tits but his tongue was sliding 
along the sides of my thighs and right into my cunt! It hit my clitoris and 
I really bucked in that chair. I had never felt anything so-well, both scary 
and exciting. 

"Al played with my titties, nipping at my nipples with his fingers, while 
his mouth clamped down on my pussy and he started sucking. I could feel that 
suck way up in my stomach. And his tongue was working on my clitoris until I 
just humped up at him, moaning. 

"It seemed to go on forever yet be over awfully quick. Some dam up inside me 
burst. The relief of that! It was terrific! The most! And Al went on sucking 
and lapping at the juices I poured down until I was nearly crazy. I was 
really dizzy from it, just tossing my head and murmuring, 'Please! Please! 
Please!' Not meaning anything, really. 

"Finally Al stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning a 
little. 'That was very tasty pussy. Virgin cunt, too. Very nice. Verrrry 
nice. Next time, we'll have a real ball. We'll go all the way.' 

"There never was a next time. Al broke his leg trying to ride his big 
brother's motorcycle and by the time he was out and circulating again, I had 
graduated from kids like Al. I had a real, full-grown man. And he had 
forgotten more about making love than Al will ever learn. 

"Jerry was a Vietnam veteran, not very tall but real cute in a tough kind of 
way. He had a kid, a boy about three, and I did some baby-sitting for him. 
He didn't have a wife. Maybe they were divorced or maybe she was dead-or had 
run off with some other guy. He never talked about her or had any pictures 
of her around. 

"I liked to baby-sit for him because he had a big color TV set and he'd 
leave nice snacks for me in the refrigerator. Also, he paid a quarter an 
hour better than most. With double for after twelve. 

"So when he called Mom, I went there this night. Only, when I got there, he 
looked embarrassed. 'My date stood me up, so I don't need ... ' I guess he 
saw my face fall. I had been counting on his baby-sitting money. 'But it's 
all right, Ellie. I'll pay you just the same.' He laughed. 'But not 
overtime.' And reached for his wallet. 

"I suppose he saw me eyeing the TV-there was a show on I really wanted to 
see. This singer, new. And I wanted to see what color eyes he had. You can't 
tell on black-and-white. 

"Jerry grinned. 'And you can watch TV, if you keep it low. I'll be reading.' 
Which was fine by me. I went to the fridge and got a coke and settled down 
to watch TV. 

"I guess, being alone so much when I watch TV, I settle a little careless, 
with my legs draped over a chair arm and sort of snuggled in. Jerry had some 
nice deep chairs for that. And I hadn't been expecting to see him, except as 
he whisked out the door, so I was dressed for comfort, in my oldest and 
shortest miniskirt and some very scanty panties. 

"I realized it pretty quick when I felt him looking at my legs, and right up 
'em, to those scanty panties. You can, you know. Feel somebody looking at 
you. And tell, maybe, even which part of you, without seeing their eyes. 
When I looked up Jerry shifted in his chair and looked down quick at his 
book. But I knew he had been looking at me. And seeing pretty much the whole 
show. 

"Having a grown man look, with me knowing he had looked, made me warm 
inside. Little quick flashes. I liked it. So I shifted just a little in the 
chair, so he could have a better view. And if he didn't like the view, he 
didn't have to look. But he did. 

"I caught him at it, and he flushed. He even gulped. 'Young lady, you are 
flaunting yourself, which is dangerous for you with a man in my position.' 

"I grinned at him. 'You could change your position-closer.' And wiggled my 
rump, as if I was settling deeper in the chair, not really expecting 
anything. Jerry is cute and all that, but I always thought of him as kind of 
shy. Nice but shy. Like an older brother, maybe. 

"Only he wasn't. He got up and stalked across the room, slow and menacing, 
looking real tough, as he might have when he was fighting in Vietnam. He 
caught my legs and lifted 'em. 

"And gave me a sound spank on my bottom. 

"It hurt. That wasn't any gentle love-tap. It really stung, because there 
wasn't much to my scanty panties. He dropped my legs and started back across 
the room. 'Gather up your things and go home.' 

"The sting on my bottom brought tears to my eyes and the order to go home 
made me sniffle. I must have sounded pathetic because he turned back, seeing 
me cry. He came back to pat my shoulder. 'I'm sorry, kid. I shouldn't have 
done that. But I get gawddam tired of having dames flaunt their little twats 
at me, as if it was the most precious item on earth-with a price tag: 
'Marriage.' He smoothed his hand over my shoulder. 'Just because I haven't 
got a wife, every female thinks she can give me-what? Comfort? Somebody to 
sleep with? A good cook? Most of 'em are lousy cooks. And not much better in 
bed. Stop that sniffling!' 

"He bent down to lift me up and set me in the chair the right way around but 
I hung on to his neck and buried my nose in his shoulder. Not just because I 
was losing my best-paying babysitting job but because he had sounded so 
pathetic and sort of hopeless. 

"He patted my shoulder and held on to my rump, saying, 'There, there, 
Ellie.' And I really bawled. So the first thing I knew, we were both sitting 
in the chair, me in his lap and he was sort of rocking me and murmuring 
soothing things. The way be was holding me mashed one of my titties against 
his chest. And he still had a hand under my rump. 

"Things were getting really interesting inside me. The hot flashes were 
coming faster, especially when I wriggled down so his hand on my rump could 
get a real feel. And did. His fingers started working, sort of creeping up 
on my cunt. His hand on my shoulder dropped down a little and slid under my 
arm and right on to my tit. 

"He kept talking, a sort of angry monologue against 'dames.' 'They think 
they know sex. They don't know a tenth of it. And especially not how I like 
mine. I've seen so much of it, in Vietnam and here-just lay out flat and get 
reamed. And when I tell 'em how I'm fed up with that, and how I like my sex, 
they get their precious little twats right out.' 

"I was getting pretty warm and excited, feeling him touch me and I wanted 
him to keep it up. 'Why? How do you like your sex?' 

"He sighed, not really talking to me. Just-bitter. 'Oral. Sucking and being 
sucked. But I haven't found a one who really ... ' 

"I sat up a little, looking up at him. 'But that's how I like mine.' A lot I 
knew, based on one experience! 

"He glanced down at me, as if he realized for the first time how intimately 
we were sitting. 'You? You're a kid. What could you know about sex, any kind 
of sex?' 

"I tried to sit up, indignant, but his hand was cupped around my tit. 'I 
know about sucking! And I like it. Try me!' 

"He shivered a little. 'It can't be! It simply can't be! Not a sweet little 
kid like you. You don't know what you're talking about.' And he started to 
get up. 

"I swung myself around so both tits plastered against his chest and my 
little rump wriggled provocatively. 'I do know. And I like it. You don't get 
a baby that way, but you have just as much fun. So-try me.' 

"My blouse had pulled out of my miniskirt, and his hand was on my bare skin, 
feeling hot. I moved back, away from his chest and undid my blouse, so both 
titties were out, with nipples standing stiff. 'Suck on those first and see 
if you like it. I will.' 

"Very slowly he lowered his head, his eyes watching mine as long as he 
could. Then his mouth fastened on a tit and his tongue went twirling around 
the nipple. I arched up, pushing my tit practically down his throat and 
moaning, it felt so good. Plus, his hand really went to work on my cunt, 
teasing my clitoris and opening the lips with his fingers. 

"The next thing I knew, he was picking me up and carrying me to the big day 
bed sort of couch, with a bolster back. He set me down very gently, with my 
cunt almost up against the bolster and my head hanging over the edge. He 
knelt down by my head, leaning over to kiss my tits while his hands played 
with my cunt until I was moaning and shaking with want. I let my legs fall 
open, draping over the bolster, in a big V, so he could get to it easier. 

"By that time I was naked. I don't even remember exactly when it happened or 
which of us did it. Not that it mattered. What did matter was that I was 
naked and Jerry could see and touch and feel every part of me. He could feel 
every inch of me, and played on me as if I were an organ, until I was ready 
to scream at him to start in sucking, so I could get some release. That big 
release. 

"He really worked on me, running his fingers and his tongue all over me, 
working his head slowly down to my cunt. I was so tense-wonderfully tense 
and excited that I didn't really notice he had shed his pants and 
underpants. But there was this great big dong, hanging right over my face, a 
drop of oily juice dangling from it. He looked down my front, between us. 
'Take it in your mouth, Ellie. Please do it now.' 

"Then I realized what he had meant, sucking and being sucked. He wanted me 
to suck on his dong! That big thing! It looked big enough to choke a horse! 
But I had started this and I was getting a lot of mileage out of his mouth 
on my cunt. So I reached for it, feeling it quiver in my hand. 

"I touched my tongue to the tip and felt that drop slide down my tongue. I 
tasted it! Sharp and acrid, but good. 

"I raised my head and closed my lips around it. With that he leaned down on 
me, driving my head back and sending his prick deep in my throat. And all 
the time his tongue and lips were working on my cunt until I thought 
something would burst. 

"He started moving his hips up and down, pumping his dick into my mouth, 
gradually picking up speed, while he sucked so deep on my cunt I thought 
he'd pull my eyeballs in. 

"Suddenly he moaned and gave my cunt a really deep suck and at the same time 
slammed his prick so far down my throat it seemed he could lick it at his 
end. I felt it, that big bulb, as it went past my throat muscles, leaving me 
trying to gasp for breath. By then he was working it in and out until 
suddenly he let go. A big pulse swelled his dong, and stuff exploded in my 
throat, hot, salty stuff. And I pumped stuff at him. I could feel it 
flooding my stomach and down my cunt. 

"He pulled his dong out, slowly. It was already softening up. And I was 
tasting all that goo he had pumped into me. And loving it. Real male taste. 
The best taste there is. 

"Afterward we cleaned up, laughing and enjoying our being naked together, 
letting the shower water run over our bodies. I didn't dress until I was 
ready to go home, way past midnight. Jerry paid me for my 'baby-sitting 
time' though I felt kind of funny taking it. 

"That was my real introduction to oral sex. Jerry and I had pretty regular 
sessions after that, pretending I was baby-sitting. That lasted until I had 
to go off to college. At our last session Jerry said to me, half seriously, 
'When you get all educated, come back and I'll marry you.' 

"I never went back. Because at college I had all the sex I could handle, 
oral and some regular. And I met George. Through sex, naturally. Mostly 
oral, but some regular. We really hit it off and got married the day we 
graduated. Later still, after about three years, George introduced me to the 
oral sex club ..." 

Until man climbed the ladder of evolution to the "barterting step," his 
basic drives had been limited to two rational and indispensable ones: 
self-preservation and procreation. The subject of this case, Eleanor P-, 
represents a human being who has long passed that "bartering plateau," who 
has almost abandoned her two basic drives, supplanting them-or willing to 
supplant them-by the somewhat irrational pursuit of wealth. This is not to 
suggest that one has no need for a certain amount of cash or property to be 
able to fulfill one's basic drives; it is rather to show that once a person 
ceases to consider his needs and begins to concentrate mono-maniacally on 
his wants, he is more than likely going to ignore his basic drives. 

Eleanor P- is a person whose values are centered around her sable coat, her 
Jaguar, her station wagon, her two Continentals, and her husband's accounts 
that make the feeding of her greed possible. Her sexuality is a commodity 
which she uses by renting it out to whoever might bring more cash into her 
and her husband's coffers. She is, in fact, a prostitute; her husband, 
George, is a pimp. They are both members of the upper crust of society and 
are extremely, and hypocritically, proud of their status. 

Sexually, they may be considered to be hedonists, although not in the usual 
sense of the word. They are not seekers of pleasure per se; they are rather 
exploiters of pleasure motivated by greed. As one reads the subject's 
narrative, one is convinced that the sexual orgies in which Eleanor P- and 
her husband participated were, to them, a means to an end, and more work 
than pleasure. 

It is difficult to determine without additional information on the subject 
whether Eleanor's preference for oral sex is a deep-seated neurotic drive or 
not. In the course of her narrative she brings up the matter of her 
barrenness. If she is indeed suffering from an inability to conceive, then 
there is really no reason for her not to engage in regular coital 
activities; if she is not, then the chances are that she simply does not 
want to take the risk of motherhood; although this type of reasoning on her 
part would be odd, considering the modern methods of birth control that are 
available. 

If one is to believe Eleanor's narrative, she is either almost exclusively 
orally oriented or she is content, and nothing more, with oral sex, 
especially since most of the sexual activity she engages in is more in the 
course of business than emotional involvement It is possible that her 
juvenile sexual encounter with Al, an exclusively oral one, had impressed 
her strongly enough so that in subsequent sexual engagements she veered 
toward oral-genital activity and disregarded genital intercourse because she 
had found the first both pleasurable and void of the risks of pregnancy. Her 
subsequent seduction of Jerry, the man she had come to baby-sit for, reveals 
the acuteness of her sexual urge; her eventual marriage to George appears to 
have been more a marriage of convenience-the subject must have seen him from 
the very beginning as an instrument she could use for the material 
betterment of her own position-and nothing more. It is highly doubtful that 
"love" ever entered the picture. 

There is a theory about sex and love that says the two must be intermeshed 
in intimate relations for those relations to be satisfactory. Passion, 
according to this theory, is a blend of both elements, and if passion is 
missing when one person "makes love" to another, then he will probably 
acutely feel the lack, and search elsewhere, probably with ill luck, for the 
thing that will fill that lack. Thus comes promiscuity, Casual sex, and a 
dalliance with the catalogue of sexual deviations. 

One writer who agrees with this general premise is psychologist Rob May, 
who, in his book Love and Will, discusses sex that had no deep feeling 
behind it. He believes that for too many of us sex has become a mere brief 
escape from our fears, rather than a positive, passionate activity. 

It is possible to have sexual intercourse without any particular anxiety. 
But in casual sex, we shut out, by definition, our eros-that is, we 
relinquish passion in favor of mere sensation; we shut out the imaginative, 
personal significance of the act. If we can have sex without love, we assume 
that we escape the daimonic anxiety that is an inseparable part of human 
love. But if, further, we use sexual activity itself as an escape from the 
commitments of eros, we may hope to gain an airtight defense against 
anxiety. Passion and sensual pleasure have been displaced by the reach for 
identity and security. Sex has been reduced to an anxiety-allaying strategy. 

When Eleanor P- agreed to go along with her husband in his scheme to obtain 
the large J- account, she was well aware that the scheme was a sexual one. 
She knew that she would have to, in fact, prostitute herself, and she knew 
that her husband knew of this-more, he had set it up. Consequently, as far 
as the subject and her husband's marriage went, they were going to reduce 
sex to what Rollo May above calls "an anxiety-allaying strategy." 

What was the anxiety that was at the bottom of it all? 

In the case of the subject. it was obviously a dread at the thought of not 
so much losing the comforts of life-since there was no such threat-but 
rather a pathological fear that failure of a continuous financial growth was 
tantamount to a loss of status in the eyes of the other scramblers for 
wealth. In the case of Eleanor's husband, George, the anxiety could very 
well have been a double-edged one. To begin with, he had the fear of less of 
status as was the case with his wife; second, he had the fear of losing his 
wife, not so much because he felt any passionate love for her but because 
she-was in fact a convenient instrument that he could Count on using to 
maintain and constantly improve his financial and social position in the 
eyes of his social status-climbing competitors. 

Finally, in answer to the question of why the so-called "club" in which 
Eleanor and George P- found themselves involved was almost exclusively 
maintained on oral-genital activity, rather than on a balanced and 
variegated sexual activity that is more generally common in such group-sex 
situations, it can be postulated that it was not because everyone there was 
an oral deviate, i.e., was arrested at the Freudian "oral phase" of sexual 
maturation. It was rather because oral-genital activity was found to be both 
gratifying to the participants and free of potential complications-such as 
pregnancies, paternity suits, and inevitable subsequent scandals. The entire 
attitude of the club members might very well have been: use anyone you can, 
enjoy yourself, make the most of every situation that is presented, but take 
no chances. Cater, in other words, to your competitor's lower instincts and 
he will not get away from you. 

"Until I met Jerry, I hadn't known there were men like that. Oh, Al doesn't 
count. He was just a kid looking for kicks. No, I mean men who really enjoy 
their sex orally, most of the time. For some reason, they don't want to slam 
a dong into a female's cunt. And get-or seem to get-just as much of a bang 
out of sucking and being sucked. 

"The 'why' of it gets me. Oral sex is lots more trouble than lying on top of 
a girl and banging away. And there's more of that sort of sex available, 
So-why? Because Momma was a female and they don't want to 'hurt' Momma, 
psychologically, by going into a woman's cunt? Or are they, subconsciously, 
trying to humiliate every female because they hated Momma? 

"Anyway, that's for headshrinkers like you to figure out. And I guess there 
are almost as many different reasons as there are men who go for oral sex. 

"Girls I can understand. They want sex but they don't want a baby, so they 
take their sex orally. Some in the anus. It didn't happen to me that way. I 
mean, I hadn't even thought about a baby. Al showed me a way to get kicks 
and Jerry improved on it. I got orally oriented young. Oh, I tried 'regular' 
sex-at college, once in a while. And with George. But I-like oral sex 
better. I seem to get a double dose that way-in my-cunt and in my throat. 

"Sexually George and I hit it off fine. Oh, when we first got married we 
tried 'regular' sex because we thought we wanted a baby. Then the doctors 
told me I couldn't have one. Three of 'em. I'll believe three doctors. One 
can be wrong, but it's not likely three are wrong in the same direction. 

"So George and I gave, up on the idea of a baby, except that maybe, when we 
had more money, we might adopt one. Oh, we weren't dirt poor. George 
graduated top of his class and had his pick of accounting jobs, and they pay 
pretty well. But of course, our income didn't begin to match those of our 
clients, with whom we had to go out socially. Like, it was sometimes a bind 
to take four people to a really top restaurant. We might eat beans for a 
week afterward. 

"So I urged George to set up on his own. Through some frat brothers, if he 
pressured a. little, he could get some nice fat accounts. Nothing tremendous 
but good solid accounts. We still have most of 'em. And George was making 
money, goad money. And I was spending it. 

"When you've been on short rations most of your life-as I said, we weren't 
poor at home, just skimpy with money-a little taste of luxury is a heady 
drink. I could dress well. But the wives of some of these guys wore clothes 
that made me look like bargain basement, or 'did your mother really make 
that dress?' It was humiliating. 

"So I nagged. Well, not quite that, maybe, but I certainly hinted pretty 
strongly that we could use more money, and there were big accounts out there 
for the grabbing. Really big. The multimillion-dollar accounts, on which the 
fees are really lush. 

"George came home one evening, all excited. He 'almost' had the P- P- 
account, with possibly Old Man J-'s personal account. 

"George sprawled in our Bares-Lounger and stared down at the carpet, not 
willing to look at me. 'There's just one snag, baby. He wants to meet you.' 

"I got really huffy at that. 'Well, I'm no frump. With one good dress I 
might even be able to get by.' 

"George waved that away, still looking at the carpet. 'That isn't it, baby. 
We could even run to a Schiaparelli as a gamble on this. It's big ... The 
trouble is-Old Man J-. He's got this club.' 

"That sounded interesting, so I asked, 'Private?' 

"George nodded. 'Very. In fact, it's a very special kind of club. For oral 
sex. He's hooked on it and he likes young women. Not just bought stuff. 
Hell, he could buy half the cunt in the county and not miss the money. He 
likes what he calls "top drawer" Very private vintage.' 

"I stared at George. 'George P-, are you trying to tell me that if I let 
this old goat go down on me-and me on him, then we could get that account? 
And just because I was a little free and easy in college, you think ... How 
much would it be worth to us" 

"George named a figure that took my breath away and then added, 'There are 
other men there with really big accounts.' He tried to laugh. 'With three or 
four of those, I'd have to hire an accountant, just to figure my income 
tax.' He started to heave himself out of the chair. 'Forget it, kid. Forget 
it. I must have been nuts even to think-but you're always talking about 
dresses and cars and stuff ... 

"He was half out of the chair before I could speak, for thinking about that 
Jaguar and the Schiaparelli and ... 'George, would you- mind? If I did it, I 
mean?' 

"His eyes opened wide as he stared at me. 'You mean-you'd do it?' He drew a 
deep breath, shuddering. 'No, kid. I wouldn't mind.' He even grinned. 'Don't 
forget. I'd belong to the club, too, getting in my licks.' 

"So we joined the club, after a flurry of buying. It's not just a 
Schiaparelli you buy, it's the accessories, even to perfume especially 
blended to your body chemistry-or so they tell you. And I went down to take 
another look at that Jaguar. I know a Bentley-Rolls is supposed to be 
swankier but there's something about that Jaguar that got me. 

"It got me into this mess I'm in now. 

"The first 'meeting' of the club we went to wasn't aboard that undersized 
ocean liner that was raided. That belongs to the really big Mister Big. This 
was just a yacht. Oh, it was luxurious enough. 

"The salon was beautifully decorated, and there were six or seven 
staterooms, beside the master stateroom, which belonged to Old Man J-. 
Hearing him referred to that way, I expected an old man. Instead, he was 
tall and, except for a broken nose, good-looking. And only about forty, 
maybe forty-five. With streaks of gray at his temples. 

"I guess I had expected something crude, like those college fraternity 
brawls. Grab a girl and whisk her off to a bed. Not at the club. 

"It was like a movie about Monte Carlo. Very smooth and swank. Earl J- 
greeted each of us as we came aboard, dressed in a white dinner jacket. We 
went into this salon and had cocktails, while I eyed the other females. 
There were six couples and all the women were just a shade older than me and 
very smooth. 

"The talk was light, maybe a little feverish, but that could have been just 
my reaction. Then we went in to dinner. I don't really remember what it was 
because I was beginning to get nervous. Earl J- kept shifting his eyes to me 
and touching his wineglass, as if that were a private signal. It wasn't, as 
I found out. Just a mannerism. Afterward we danced on the afterdeck, to a 
three-piece combo. 

"Earl J- kept coming back to dance with me, deserting a very smooth, very 
sophisticated number whom he seemed to be shoving off on George. Earl danced 
very smoothly but very close, his fingers against my bare back playing a 
little soundless tune. It could have been any really swank party, up to the 
time Earl said, very softly, 'May I show you other parts of the boat? My own 
stateroom is most interesting. I have some quite unique pieces there.' And 
almost without waiting for an answer, danced me to a companionway, helping 
me down. 

"I had a moment of real panic, then. It was all just a little too smooth, I 
guess. I gave one panic-stricken look at George, but he was concentrating on 
the sophisticated number, maybe deliberately, so he wouldn't see me go off 
with Earl. 

"His stateroom was unique, with a single great circular bed and the walls 
and ceiling all mirrors. Earl kissed my shoulder as we went in, the first 
real indication that this wasn't just a pleasant meeting aboard a boat. I 
know I shivered. 

"Earl asked if the room wasn't warm enough. Actually it was a little stuffy 
with heat, and I said so. He grinned then and said, 'Perhaps you'd like to 
slip off that lovely gown and get into something lighter.' He opened a door 
in the mirrored wall, revealing a whole rainbow of negligees, enough to take 
my breath away. Only I guessed it was pretty much stage dressing. 

"Earl was already working at the single shoulder strap-and from there on the 
action might have been back at Jerry's or in the frat house. 

"I helped him with the strap and let my gown, my lovely first Schiaparelli, 
drop, exposing my tits. Earl bent down and kissed first one and then the 
other, tonguing my nipples, until I wasn't nervous anymore. Just anxious to 
get-things going. Kissing my tits had started me getting hot. 

"I wiggled that gown over my hips and stepped out of it, naked. A good 
Schiaparelli doesn't need panties or bras. They're built into the gown. 

"So I was naked. In front of a strange man for the first time in nearly four 
years, since I'd married George. 

"Earl stepped back, admiring me. And I could see myself repeated a hundred 
times over in the mirrored walls. As if they were screaming 'Naked! Naked! 
Naked!' And I was liking it. 

"Excitement was building in me, just seeing myself naked. And knowing a man 
was looking at me. There was no way of missing that. Earl was reflected 
hundreds of times, too. I could see him in the mirrored walls reaching for 
me and then feel his hands at my waist, sliding up to cup my tits, his 
thumbs teasing my nipples. 

"It was like being made Jove to by an army, all those men reaching for me, 
feeling my tits and coming close, until I could feel the bulge in his 
trousers. Oh, I can understand the cleverness of the mirrored walls. They 
sort of magnified the mood, multiplied it by a hundred times or so. A girl 
could hardly put up a fight against hundreds of men-and her own heightened 
excitement. Wow, what they'd do to a timid virgin! Before she could say 
'No!' she'd be pregnant. If Earl had liked his sex 'regular.' 

"He knelt in front of me, running his tongue down my body, pausing to twirl 
it in my navel, and on down to the creases between pelvis and legs, sliding 
it across my mound and back, then sliding his tongue, which seemed hot and 
pointed, right into my slit. All the time his hands played with my tits. 

"By then I was moaning and writhing, thrusting my pelvis against his mouth, 
feeling hot flashes dart from nipples to cunt, igniting fires deep inside. 
His tongue found my clitoris and teased it, sending new shock waves through 
me, so that my knees started to buckle. 

"Earl picked me up, holding me easily, cradled in his arms, with one hand on 
a breast, the other sliding up and around my ass, between my legs, just 
barely touching my cunt. 

"He swung me around and on to that big circular bed and knelt between my 
legs, his mouth on my cunt. I could look straight up and see my whole body 
reflected in the mirrored ceiling. What a gimmick! 

"I could see his dark head between my legs and watch his hands creep up my 
body in exciting play, his fingers crooked so that his nails lightly raked 
my skin, delicious teasing as they neared my breasts, fastened on them and 
started a gentle, rhythmic squeezing. I turned a scream into a soft moan and 
thrust my pelvis at his mouth, feeling then. Not bothering to look. 

"He gave up on my breasts after a few moments but kept his mouth on my cunt, 
sucking and darting that hot, pointed tongue deep inside, drawing it out and 
teasing my clitoris. All that time he was undressing, sliding out of his 
trousers and shirt. 

"I could have watched him do it, but I had closed my eyes tight in ecstasy, 
moaning and writhing. I felt him take his mouth away and I opened my eyes. 
He was standing between my legs, his dong swollen and stiff. And I saw that 
repeated hundreds of times in the mirrors. 

"He moved around the circular bed, keeping a hand on one breast until he was 
by my head, so that I could see that prick of his standing rigid, his balls 
taut in their sac. He bent down, kissing each tit, and moved on down my 
body, his tongue teasing as it went. Until his mouth fastened on my cunt 
again and his prick was stabbing toward my mouth, a drop of juice glittering 
on it. 

"I reached up and curled a hand around that wonderful big prick of his, 
guiding it into my mouth, reaching up with my tongue to get that first 
delicious drop of man-juice. I closed my lips over his blue-purple bulb and 
began to suck, with the lingering taste of his man-juice in my mouth. 

"With Earl bobbing his head rhythmically at my cunt and thrusting deep 
inside with his hot, pointed tongue, I was really going to town. He began 
moving his pelvis in and out, thrusting his pecker deeper and deeper into my 
throat, while little drops of his man-juice seeped through, trickling into 
my throat, tasting divine. 

"Then he started some really heavy pumping with his head and faster twirling 
in my cunt with his tongue. I knew it meant he was about to come. I reached 
up and grabbed his ass, pulling my head and mouth as far up on his dong as I 
could, moving it in and out with little jerky nods. At the same time I was 
swirling my tongue around and over that big stick of his, getting the deep, 
satisfactory feel of it in my mouth, but waiting, anticipating the moment 
when, his prick would burst its juices into my mouth. 

"I knew it was coming. I could feel it in the faster rhythm of his tongue 
and mouth and in the way he jabbed with his pelvis at my throat. Suddenly he 
drew his prick back, almost out of my mouth, and then seemed to drop his 
whole weight on my face, shaking and shuddering as his dong swelled and 
pulsed and shot his load. Way deep in, so that I could feel it with the 
muscles in my throat as his load went through his prick. And then that rich, 
acrid, chokey taste flooded my throat and mouth. Marvelous! Delicious. 

"We lay like that for a long moment, his mouth still on my cunt and his 
dwindling prick still part-way in my mouth. He licked and sucked at the 
juices I had poured down in that marvelous moment of release and I licked at 
his dong for more taste of that wonderful man-juice. 

"When he finally rolled off, dragging his prick from my mouth and lifting 
his head from my cunt, I could look up again at the mirrored ceiling. God, I 
was a mess! My beautiful hairdo, on which I had spent nearly forty dollars, 
was knocked awry. One false eyelash was gone, giving my face a lopsided 
look, and my mouth was smeared and slopped with his goo. My cunt was open 
and raw-looking and my muff wet with his slobber. 

"Mirrors ought to be turned off right after a sex act. They make things 
exciting in the beginning but, lord, are they merciless on a girl afterward. 
And Earl, with his face smeared and his eyes baggy and bloated-looking, 
wasn't any prize, either. What's more, in that mirror-walled room, there 
wasn't any way I could turn to escape the images. 

"Things were better when he took me into a really functional but fantastic 
bathroom-a 'head' he called it, the nautical term. The shower, and playing 
together in it, restored me somewhat. I had to forget that forty-dollar 
hairdo and just run a comb through it, letting my hair fall in its natural 
waves. It's all right, but not very sophisticated. 

"Seated at the dressing table, still naked, I repaired some of the damage 
while Earl stood behind me, studying my breasts and just lightly touching my 
back. 'That was delightful, my dear. Delightful. You are a very accomplished 
young lady. George is a very lucky man. Now, run along. And ask Laurette to 
come to my cabin, will you? She's probably with George. Oh, and don't bother 
with clothes. We don't, while on board. In the morning I'll see that you 
have a sports outfit suitable for going ashore.' He patted my rump and 
shooed me out into the corridor, naked. 

"He was right. About nobody wearing clothes. I suppose the crew did, but I 
didn't see any of them. There was a sort of general swap going on, people 
moving from cabin to cabin in a kind of sexual musical chairs. I found 
Laurette all right, looking just as sophisticated naked as she did with 
clothes on. But she wasn't with George. She was just sitting in the lounge, 
smoking. I told her what Earl had said. She nodded, put out her cigarette 
and wandered off, her buttocks swiveling. 

"I didn't find George, but a tall, lanky man with a long, limp dong caught 
my arm, tugging me into a cabin. 'This is swap time-and look what I drew! 
The little new prize! You are lovely, my dear. You should never wear 
clothes, not even that charming number you had on earlier.' He slid a hand 
under my arm and pressed it against one of my tits. 'Lovely, lovely.' And 
his long, thin dong was already beginning to rise. Feebly at first but 
gaining strength. 

"There were only two mirrors in that cabin, but very strategically placed, 
practically at right angles, so I could see several of us in reflections. 
And the sight of his rising dong triggered an electric response in me. 

"Jake may not have been as suave as Earl but he had a longer dong that went 
deeper into my throat, and his mouth, seeming big and slack, could cover my 
whole cunt and work up a real suck. So our climax was pretty good. Really 
good. 

"After we washed up, there was a sort of meeting in the lounge. A curiously 
decorous meeting, considering no one had a stitch of clothes on. Earl 
announced that we'd draw for partners, and passed around a cut-glass bowl 
with men's names in it. Each woman drew one. I know one girl looked at her 
slip and pouted. 'I drew my own husband!' 

"Earl just laughed. 'Better luck next time. Or swap with one of the others.' 
Laurette offered to swap slips but the girl looked at her for a moment and 
then drew back her slip. 'It might be fun, at that. Novel, anyway, having my 
own husband.' But there was a spark of jealousy showing. 

"I drew someone named 'Cass' who turned out to be executive director of a 
very good account, which we still have. He was a jolly, beaming man with 
just a shade too much stomach. 

"We moved around to pair off and have a round of drinks. There was a good 
bit of surreptitious peering but no pawing. The 'meeting' was very proper, 
even with everybody in the nude. I noticed George trying to catch my eye and 
grinning sheepishly, but I ignored him. This wasn't the time for subtle 
marital signals. 

"Cass led me into a cabin that had three mirrors, all very interestingly 
interreflecting. But Cass turned the lights down so low it was difficult to 
see anything in them. 'I know I'm just a pudgy little man, but I don't want 
to be reminded of it. Not when I'm with a beautiful woman, certainly.' 

"He wasn't very adept, either. He tried too hard, compensating for his 
pudginess. Still, I got a real kick out of him, even though, at one point, 
he nearly smothered me with his stomach. It must have been nearly three 
o'clock when we finished up, with Cass practically gurgling over how 
wonderful I was and we must do it again some time. 

"After that it was a sort of free-for-all. Any time a girl stepped out of a 
cabin, she was available for grabs. I got grabbed three more times that 
night and had one really wonderful time. George, however, pooped out early 
and was sleeping it off in Laurette's cabin. 

"Six times! Sucked and sucking! That may not have beat the old fraternity 
record-I think one girl is supposed to have taken on ten or maybe it was 
twelve boys one night, but most of that was 'regular' sex, just lying on her 
back and letting them ream her. I understand she ate peanuts through most of 
it. 

"It was glorious! I loved it. And don't think I didn't. I'm oriented to oral 
sex. I like feeling a man's mouth and tongue playing with my cunt and I 
enjoy the ram and ream of a prick in my throat, with the big, gooey gob of 
come plunging down me and the hot, acrid taste of it. Real man-taste. 
Somehow, it's more satisfying than being reamed in the cunt. 

"That way, a girl just lies there and takes it, until tension builds. Then 
she maybe wraps her legs around his and kicks her heels a few times in his 
ass-and boom! It's over. I like my way better. 

"Oh, I like oral sex. I don't really know if it's something in the way I'm 
built-which could be-or whether it's because of my first experiences with 
sex-Al and then Jerry. 

"I know I don't want to be 'cured' of it. Or reoriented, or whatever you 
headshrinkers call it. I like it the way it is. Only I don't care too much 
about this oral sex club. In fact, I've had it. And once I'm out of this 
mess, I'm quitting. I'm through being an oral whore-and getting paid off in 
nice, fat accounts. 

"Oh, I expect it will cost us several. Probably most of 'em, since that's 
how we got the bulk of them-peddling me to the top men. But I've been poor, 
and I can be again. Of course, rich is nicer. I'm going to hate giving up 
that house. And the Jaguar. And all those lovely clothes. 

"In fact, I wouldn't mind going to the club once in a while-but when I want 
to. I don't like being on call. It's too much like being a whore. Which I 
am, of course. 

"An oral club can be interesting. Imagine, having five or six men go down on 
you man evening. And sucking that many cocks. Delicious! In a way, I'll hate 
giving all that up. It's the way I am. The way they are. They like their sex 
special. And so do I. But I like giving it away -for free. Not just because 
some potbellied old coot owns a lush account ... 

Although Eleanor P- attempts in her last few words to convince the analyst, 
and herself, that she is not a "play for pay" girl, her past life-style 
proves her to be unconvincing. 

The chances are she will continue in the same vein until she will no longer 
be able to sell herself, at which time she will lose both her status cum 
riches and her husband. 

 CONCLUSION 

Reviewing the case histories under discussion in this study, one is struck 
by the presence of a unifying factor common to all-besides, that is, the 
subjects' common preference for a particular paraphiliac orientation. 

This unifying factor is their common motivating agent-boredom-which may, 
perhaps, have more significance in the evaluation of any documents relating 
to the phenomenon of the contemporary adult "sex club" than the precise 
nature-oral, anal, sadomasochistic-of the sex club itself. 

Within the present study, for instance, boredom motivates the sexual 
experimentations that "save" a marriage or two, however temporarily. It 
explains, to some extent, the actions of the well-to-do housewife who 
ostensibly prostitutes herself to help promote her husband's business. The 
deadly ennui of small-town sex provides, as much as anything, the motivation 
for the country boy's move to Hollywood; his subsequent activities are more 
a series of blunders than anything else. And one is tempted to call it a 
kind of terminal boredom which causes the sexually frigid Kristi Y- to 
accept her part in a humiliating sadomasochistic relationship with the 
proprietor of her particular Sex club, for want of anything better to-do. 

Examining the three cases involving mate-swapping-particularly in the light 
of recently published examinations of the "swinging" and "swapping" 
phenomena-one begins to suspect that many young Americans, particularly in 
their first marriages, tend to mate as blindly as any cat or dog in the 
street; the principal factor involved is a simple sexual attraction, and the 
principal qualitative differences that separate their random pairings from 
those of the quadrupeds named are such things as the absence of a true 
periodicity factor in our patterns of sexual activity and-more 
importantly-the considerable legal Complexities of the human pair-bonding 
process as practiced in our society. 

Simple sexual attraction suffices for the cat and the dog, who-except in the 
rarest of cases-are exempt from the pair-bonding process due to the 
relatively rapid maturation of their young. Humans, however, whose young 
must, by contrast, be housed, fed and protected for what seems a 
disproportionately long time before they are able to provide for themselves, 
must perforce learn to live together while doing this feeding and 
protecting. And, in the idea, they must learn to take such comfort from each 
other as they can-sexually, emotionally, intellectually-in order to make the 
best of their pairing. 

Thus, in the ideal marriage, simple sexual attraction-a predominantly 
esthetic consideration, in most cases-might rate rather lower on the scale 
of factors making this living-together process actually work than one might 
at first imagine. Physical beauty, for instance, fades; we are, after all, 
locked irrevocably into the process of dying from the moment of birth, and 
into decay from puberty. Moreover, even if we succeed some day in learning 
to control the visible effects of aging, we would still be faced, in our 
relatively long lives, with the problem of over-familiarity. There is no man 
so handsome, no woman so beautiful, that the daily contemplation of his or 
her physical beauty will not eventually pall; the same, of course, is true 
of tactile contact. 

Thus our subjects' frantic search for new physical or psychological means of 
mutual stimulation as a means of "saving" their relationships-means such as 
oralism, group sex, exhibitionism-are doomed to failure if the results of 
these practices do not come to include a meeting of their minds on many 
levels other than that of the temporary titillation they think they are 
seeking. Moreover, there is hardly a paraphiliac excess to which we will not 
eventually build up such a tolerance that it no longer provides the 
stimulation that we are seeking. 

Thus the practical use-in helping to cement a sexual partnership-of what 
used to be called "deviant" practices seems limited from the start. It is 
not in the clitoris nor the glans of the penis that the orgasm occurs, nor 
in any surface of the body. It occurs in the mind, and in the ideal 
relationship one might say' it would occur in two minds in tune with each 
other, as a single phenomenon. 

Overconcern for the purely physical is the topic of a well-known (if 
apocryphal) anecdote popular with musicians. The late pianist Leopold 
Godowaky, a tiny man, was approached after a concert by a giddy matron who 
gushed interminably about Godowsky's great technical skill: "How do you ever 
manage to play so well with such small hands?" 

"Good heavens, madam," the pianist said, "wherever did you get the idea that 
we play the piano with our hands?" 


The End 


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