CHAPTER ONE


	If one were to be­lieve the writ­ings of many pop­u­lar sex­olo­gists today, one would be forced to con­clude that in­cest is re­ceiv­ing the lion‘s share of at­ten­tion. Prob­ably greater at­ten­tion is be­ing paid to this sexual phe­nomenon now than at any other time in the his­tory of sex writ­ings.

	Per­haps a great deal of this has to do with the break­down in so­ci­ety that today is be­ing re­flec­ted in so many ways. Un­rest of all shapes and man­ners seems to be the by­word of the day. There is cam­pus un­rest, polit­ical up­heaval, dis­turb­ances in the cit­ies, and tur­moil in the home.

	The build­ing blocks of con­ven­tional so­ci­ety are be­ing ques­tioned and shattered by those who feel, and have felt for some time, that too much faith and re­li­ance has been placed in the de­term­ined or­der of things. And this in it­self forms the basis for what we have come to know today as the re­jec­tion of the es­tab­lish­ment.

	Many self-styled so­ci­olo­gists are quick to be­lieve that it is only among the Hip­pie ele­ment that the es­tab­lish­ment re­jec­tion is strongest felt. But one has only to pick up the daily news­pa­per to find that such is not the case. Far from it, the young people of today whose lives are couched in the com­fort­able se­cur­ity of the middle-class work­ing fam­ily are throw­ing up their hands in dis­gust when they ob­serve the trouble that sur­rounds them in the world and in their own com­munity.

	How is it, they ask, that we can be­come so sure of our ways and of our re­stric­tions on be­ha­vior when there is so much leg­al­ized an­ti­so­cial be­ha­vior be­ing con­doned right at this mo­ment? They point with con­sid­er­able lo­gic and un­der­stand­ing at the Vi­et­nam war, and at our in­sist­ence that such a war is right, and hon­or­able and ne­ces­sary. How can we feel that way about the war, they ask, or in­deed about any war.

	As a con­sequence they now scorn the con­ven­tional laws of so­ci­ety, par­tic­u­larly in those areas where there is ap­par­ent pleas­ure to be got­ten and little or no harm to go with it.

	Thus we come to the sexual re­volu­tion as it stands today. And to prop­erly un­der­stand this re­volu­tion and the think­ing of its re­volu­tion­ar­ies, it is ne­ces­sary to re­mem­ber that what was once pro­hib­ited is now per­miss­ible in many quar­ters. And what is pro­hib­ited now may be per­miss­ible in the com­ing years.

	Thus we can see that the pre­vi­ous em­phasis on the lower classes and the less for­tu­nate eco­nomic and so­cial groups as pre­dom­in­ant par­ti­cipants in so­cial re­volu­tions is simply no longer valid.

	When it comes to in­cest we might be forced to agree with the sex­olo­gists who tell us that a whole new set of rules must be ap­plied to our un­der­stand­ing of the situ­ation as it ex­ists today.

	In their study Por­no­graphy And The Law, Drs. Eber­hard and Phyl­lis Kron­hausen state that:

	”It ap­pears that in­cest be­ha­vior in the Amer­ican com­munity is con­nec­ted with lower so­cial status and de­lin­quency. For our pur­poses it is suf­fi­cient to keep in mind that in­cest be­ha­vior is not as un­com­mon in cer­tain other seg­ments of the com­munity as one might be led to be­lieve, even though ac­cur­ate stat­ist­ics are at present lack­ing.“

	Fu­ture stud­ies will no doubt in­clude more than enough stat­ist­ics and case ref­er­ences to in­dic­ate the pre­val­ence of this par­tic­u­lar form of sexual activ­ity in the ”bet­ter“ fam­il­ies.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Dar­lene G., age eight­een, is the product of a good home. Her father is an ac­count ex­ec­ut­ive with one of the ma­jor credit card com­pan­ies and earns an in­come which would place the fam­ily in a def­in­ite up­per middle-class rank. Both par­ents are col­lege edu­cated, and nat­ur­ally want the same for Dar­lene and her brother Paul, age twenty.

	The fam­ily resides in a re­spect­able neigh­bor­hood and their lawn stays as neatly trimmed and man­i­cured as do the ones sur­round­ing them. Dar­lene‘s father has al­ways placed con­sid­er­able em­phasis on ap­pear­ance, and has worked to stress this qual­ity on Dar­lene and Paul.

	As a con­sequence both the boy and the girl went through their high school years striv­ing to be­come lead­ers in their re­spect­ive classes. Paul won hon­ors on the school bas­ket­ball team without ever let­ting his grades slide, and Dar­lene dis­tin­guished her­self on the school news­pa­per, in the de­bate so­ci­ety and on the dean‘s list.

	Both chil­dren felt the father‘s drive early in life and some­times re­sen­ted the fact that they couldn‘t just take it easy and go their own way, as so many of their class­mates ap­par­ently did.

	Both par­tic­u­larly re­sen­ted the father‘s re­stric­tions on their dat­ing, al­ways mak­ing cer­tain that he knew of the dat­ing part­ners. Those that he didn‘t ap­prove of were re­jec­ted and made un­com­fort­able when they came to the house.

	As a con­sequence Dar­lene de­cided that she had best start see­ing boy­friends on the out­side, pre­vent­ing them from com­ing un­der her father‘s scru­tiny. This, to­gether with the fact that she re­sen­ted what she con­sidered her father‘s in­ab­il­ity to keep up with the times, lead to the in­ces­tu­ous activ­ity between her and Paul.

	Paul worked full time at a local gas sta­tion dur­ing the sum­mer between his years at the state uni­ver­sity. Dar­lene fre­quently went to the sta­tion for gas and usu­ally it was Paul who waited on her. As a rule there were other em­ploy­ees around, all busy with their own du­ties.

	Then, on one par­tic­u­larly hot sum­mer day, Dar­lene drove her second-hand car into the sta­tion. The heat had been swel­ter­ing all day and to make her­self com­fort­able she had changed into a two-piece sun­suit. She knew what kind of fig­ure she cut in the sun­suit. Her breasts were full and ripe and creamy white in the area that had been shiel­ded from the tan­ning rays of the sun. The nipples were firm and pressed against the thin cloth of the hal­ter like little darts.

	The pants clung to her hips and her ass like a form-fit­ting bathing suit. Her youth­ful curves, both side and rear showed them­selves to their best ad­vant­age and she knew what kind of an im­pact this made on the men who gave her the once-over. Best of all, she knew that the tight­ness of the pants tugged smoothly be­low her stom­ach, and her full, pouted cunt pressed against the fab­ric mak­ing a little bulge down at her crotch.

	Of course this was noth­ing like the bulge she had seen in her brother‘s pants, but after all she reasoned that he had more to work with. She had watched him quite of­ten as he walked around in his tight jeans, and she wondered just how many girls he had sunk his cock into by now.

	Boys got it so much easier than girls, she figured, since they were the ones who could do the ask­ing. At least that had been the case in her ex­per­i­ence. She liked fuck­ing and suck­ing, and she liked the feel of a boy‘s hands work­ing over her tits. She liked sex quite a bit and wanted to get all she could.

	Dar­lene was sick and tired of this jazz her par­ents kept feed­ing her. She had no in­ten­tion of sav­ing her­self for the man she was go­ing to marry—as­sum­ing her father would ever ap­prove of the man in the first place. Her cherry had been picked two years earlier by the young teacher who ran the de­bate so­ci­ety.

	They had gone off to a de­bate at a nearby col­lege and had stayed be­hind after the event was over. He parked with her on a se­cluded road and there in the back seat of his car had in­tro­duced her to his thick cock, and his spurt­ing hot sperm. And he had sucked on her boobs and nibbled her clit un­til she had begged him to shove his dork into her. And she got her wish.

	From that time on Dar­lene had avoided get­ting in­volved in any kind of re­la­tion­ship with any one boy. She dated just enough to meet new cocks and to keep her cunt nice and juicy.

	Of course she felt that she was be­ing cheated by hav­ing to meet her lov­ers on the sly. She didn‘t want to risk her father find­ing out, and as a con­sequence she didn‘t get as much fuck­ing as she would have liked.

	And that par­tic­u­lar af­ter­noon, when the sun con­tin­ued to send its bak­ing rays down on her body, she de­cided she wanted a good fuck and she had also de­cided where she was go­ing to get it.

	She drove into the sta­tion and pulled along­side one of the pumps. Her brother was in­side the gar­age work­ing on a car and he stopped what he was do­ing when he saw her little car out­side. As he walked out to where she was parked Dar­lene looked around and no­ticed young Jed and Maurice in the gar­age. They were the other em­ploy­ees that old Mr. Jel­lison had to run the sta­tion.

	Paul walked up to the car and leaned down into the win­dow. Dar­lene saw his eyes drop to her hal­ter, and she knew that it was just loose enough for him to see the milky white flesh that was cush­ioned in­side it. She glanced down to his crotch and felt like lick­ing her lips at the sight of his bulge.

	Stand­ing as close to the car as he was, Dar­lene knew that it would be well within her arms grasp to reach out and fondle that bulge and rub her hand up and down against it un­til her brother‘s prick got good and hard. She sucked in her breath quickly in an ef­fort to stifle the little elec­tric surge that had just poured into her and down into her twat.

	Dar­lene made up her mind right then and there that her brother was go­ing to fuck her. Her father had made things dif­fi­cult enough for her, and now she was go­ing to get a strange kind of re­venge. She was go­ing to get her come from his son!

	Of course the thought crossed her mind that maybe Paul wouldn‘t be as free-think­ing about the whole thing as she was. While he had also been un­der his father‘s scru­tin­iz­ing thumb, she figured that he was get­ting plenty of gash in col­lege. But this was the sum­mer, and there weren‘t so many op­por­tun­it­ies in town as on the cam­pus.

	And Dar­lene thought of one other thing. The kind of de­term­in­a­tion and drive that her father worked so hard to in­still in her was go­ing to help her now. She would use everything she had, and every trick she knew of to get her brother‘s tool stuffed in­side her box.

	”Fill it up,“ she told her brother, and he went back to the gas tank and took off the cap. She smiled to her­self as she watched him in the rear-view mir­ror at her little double en­tendre. ”I would like to have told him right out to fill up my snatch,“ she thought to her­self, ”but that will come soon enough. And then will I ever drain his tank!“

	Paul came around again and asked her if she wanted him to check un­der the hood. She got bolder then and reached up to ad­just her hal­ter. She worked at it just long enough for her ac­tions to be­come ob­vi­ous, and then smiled at him.

	”Yeah. Go ahead and look un­der it.“

	Dar­lene watched him then through the wind­shield and saw the way his muscled torso strained against the pale blue shirt that was part of the gas sta­tion uni­form. Her pussy star­ted to itch from the de­sire she had to wrap her arms around his young, hard body and draw him into her, deep and hard and hot. She wanted the feel of his body press­ing against hers, and his hands knead­ing her tits. And she was go­ing to have it!

	Paul fin­ished with the car and came around to col­lect the money. Then, as Dar­lene paid him she de­cided to make her move.

	”Paul, I‘ve been think­ing about go­ing down to the lake for a swim. The heat‘s been so bad and all, and I figured a nice cool dip be­fore din­ner would really hit the spot.“

	”That sounds like a good idea. Think of me while you‘re cool­ing off.“

	”Listen Paul, I can do bet­ter than that. You fin­ish up here in about twenty minutes, don‘t you. Well, why don‘t I just wait around and we can both go for a quick swim. You look like you can use it.“

	”But I don‘t have my swim suit. We‘d have to I stop by the house first and that would take too much time. It‘s a shame too, es­pe­cially since I really could use a cool­ing off.“ Dar­lene glanced down at his crotch again and saw that he had more of a bulge now than he had had be­fore. Her little trick with the hal­ter had worked, and her brother‘s cock was start­ing to swell from the lus­cious sight.

	”Don‘t worry,“ she said, ”I thought of that already. I‘ve got your suit in my bag in the back.“

	With that the date was set and Dar­lene pulled the little car off to the side and waited un­til Paul‘s quit­ting time. She en­ter­tained her­self by think­ing about the times when she had thought about her brother as a sex ob­ject be­fore. She re­membered the time when he was about fif­teen and she caught him jerking off in the base­ment. She had really been amazed at the sight of that hard rod stick­ing up in a place where she didn‘t have any­thing but a soft hole. And she was al­most startled when Paul had be­gun to moan and jerk harder and faster and then spurt a big glob of thick white cream into the air.

	And she re­membered the time when she had peaked through the key­hole of the bath­room door and had watched him while he was get­ting ready for a shower. That was when she got a good glimpse at his hairy bag hanging down be­low his prick. She had seen the out­line of two ball-like things in­side his bag and she wondered what they were for.

	Later on, after dat­ing the de­bate in­structor she found out what they were for. In ad­di­tion to hold­ing a treas­ure house of cream, they were also good for suck­ing into the mouth and draw­ing on them like pieces of hard candy.

	Sud­denly she was startled out of her day­dreams by the sound of the door open­ing and she glanced sharply around as Paul got in and sat next to her.

	”Okay, let‘s make it for the lake,“ he said.

	In a minute they were driv­ing swiftly down the road on the way to the little lake at the edge of town. Dar­lene knew a little back road that-some of her boy­friends had used when they had parked for fuck­ing, and she de­cided that an out-of-the-way place like that would be per­fect for her game of broth­erly love.

	The drive was quickly over and Dar­lene had the car nestled back at the far edge of the lake. She knew the thick growth and the dense­ness of the trees would in­sure pri­vacy for their love­mak­ing. It was still early enough in the sum­mer and the trees and bushes were still green with their lush fo­liage. There was a slight breeze in the air and the leaves on the trees made muffled rust­ling sounds.

	Dar­lene jumped out of the car and grabbed her little beach bag. Paul was already a little ways down the path lead­ing to the wa­ter‘s edge and she quickly caught up to him. Then, when they reached the last of the bush growth Paul turned and asked for his swim suit.

	”I can change right be­hind one of these bushes,“ he said.

	Dar­lene star­ted rum­ma­ging through the bag, pulling out a towel and an in­flat­able pil­low and some sun tan lo­tion. Soon Paul real­ized that there was noth­ing else in the bag.

	”Well what do you know,“ Dar­lene ex­claimed, ”I for­got the damn swim­suits—yours and mine!“

	”Aw shit, Dar­lene, what the fuck good are you, any­way! You told me you had the damn thing.“

	Then Dar­lene made a hope­less glance around and sud­denly brightened.

	”Look Paul, why let this spoil the chances for a nice swim. We can go in any­way. After all, there‘s nobody around but you an‘ me and we don‘t count.“

	She gave Paul her sweetest, most kit­ten­ish smile.

	”I don‘t know,“ Paul wor­ried. After all, what would Dad say if he ... ” ”For God‘s sake Paul! Haven‘t you had enough of what Dad says when you‘re back at that col­lege. I bet you have one hell of a time! Come on, ad­mit it!“ Paul grinned know­ingly. Dar­lene knew that she had struck a point and was now de­term­ined to win out.

	”And don‘t worry about be­ing shy, either. After all, you‘re not go­ing to see any­thing on me that you haven‘t seen be­fore. And as far as your equip­ment goes, I know all about it!“

	With that Paul star­ted to strip down. He slipped out of the blue gas sta­tion shirt and the faded jeans and then worked his shorts down. Dar­lene was already na­ked, hav­ing re­moved her hal­ter and pants in a flash. She tried not to make it ob­vi­ous that she was watch­ing her brother get na­ked, but when she glanced up and saw him gaz­ing at her round, firm boobs and then the hairy patch around her cunt, she let her­self watch his cock and balls boldly and openly.

	In this way brother and sis­ter looked at each other ap­pre­ci­at­ively for a few mo­ments, per­fect ex­amples of two beau­ti­fully pro­por­tioned, well-equipped young an­im­als. Paul‘s cock star­ted to harden, and as soon as it did he jerked away sud­denly and rushed for the wa­ter.

	Dar­lene jumped in after him and they swam around their corner of the lake for sev­eral long minutes. Then, as they neared each other, Paul play­fully splashed wa­ter on his sis­ter. She re­tali­ated in kind and they horsed around like this, laugh­ing and shout­ing. Then they star­ted to wrestle and to try to duck each other un­der the cool­ness of the wa­ter and their bod­ies pressed against each other while do­ing so.

	Sud­denly Dar­lene felt some­thing hard press­ing against her leg and knew im­me­di­ately that Paul was aroused. She longed to reach down un­der the wa­ter and take his hard prick in her hands but she was afraid that he might be scared off if she made a move too soon. She de­cided to let him make the play for a while.

	To help him along she pressed her­self against him time and time again, all sup­posedly as a res­ult of their horse­play. She no­ticed Paul‘s eyes every now and then and she felt sure that what she saw was the hots for her body.

	Soon they tired of play­ing in the wa­ter and de­cided to bask in the sun up on the grass along­side the lake. Dar­lene and her brother sprawled out na­ked and side by side, quietly re­gain­ing their breath from their strenu­ous ex­er­cise.

	And while they were rest­ing their eyes roamed over each other‘s body. Paul now made no pre­tense of avoid­ing his sis­ter‘s boobs and her twat, and Dar­lene felt her at­ten­tion riv­eted on Paul‘s thick cock, which now lay soft and shriveled from the wa­ter, and on his hairy pouch which en­cased his balls.

	The re­lax­ing qual­ity of the wa­ter, and the warm­ness of the air and the whis­per­ing se­cluded­ness of the loc­a­tion filled them both with an aware­ness of their youth, and of their de­sires. Dar­lene‘s heart poun­ded as she let her hand slowly move for­ward un­til it res­ted on Paul‘s mus­cu­lar thigh. Very gradu­ally she let her fin­gers trace lines up and down along his thigh, work­ing her fin­ger­tips around and around in the curly ring­lets of the hair.

	Paul watched her boobs at first, tak­ing in their rising and fall­ing with each of his sis­ter‘s breaths, and then he lowered his gaze to her pussy. The thick lips of her cunt were plainly vis­ible now since the wa­ter-sogged cunt hair was flattened. He placed one hand along the smooth­ness of her stom­ach, and then gradu­ally worked down un­til he had reached the top of her lus­cious tri­angle.

	”Think what Dad would do if he knew,“ Paul chuckled, and both brother and sis­ter knew then that their urge to re­tali­ate against their father‘s force­ful­ness had sealed the des­tiny of this mo­ment.

	Their bod­ies rolled to­gether and they kissed. Their lips pressed to­gether pain­fully hard, and Paul put his hands be­hind Dar­lene‘s head and crushed her even tighter to him. Their lips par­ted and their tongues met, whip­ping to­gether in a frenzy of pas­sion. Then Dar­lene began to suck on Paul‘s tongue and used her teeth to bite down on it with quick, stabbing little bites.

	Her brother moaned and he worked his body closer to hers un­til her boobs were al­most flattened against his chest. Then he edged his lower body back and forth un­til he felt his ri­gid dork press against her cunt. Now it was Dar­lene‘s time to moan, and she reached down and gripped the shaft of Paul‘s or­gan, squeez­ing it tightly in her hand.

	Very slowly she began to rub the hard length of it, go­ing all the way down to the root and then back up again to the nub of his cock­head. She let a fin­ger­nail slide back and forth across his slit and she felt his body twitch and jerk.

	Still they kissed, frantic­ally and wildly, and soon Dar­lene‘s tongue was so stim­u­lated that she couldn‘t stand it any­more. She pulled back away from her brother and ducked down to his crotch, swoop­ing down on his prick and tak­ing the whole length of it in her mouth.

	She gagged im­me­di­ately, which helped to sub­side her over-eager­ness, and she pulled back so that she could suck on a com­fort­able three-quar­ters of it. Then she grabbed his balls in her hand and roughly handled them, rub­bing them against each other and squeez­ing his bag un­til he moaned.

	Paul pulled away from her then and re­versed his po­s­i­tion so that he could suck on her cunt while she sucked on his cock. He bur­rowed into her patch like a starving an­imal, bit­ing and gnaw­ing and suck­ing all at the same time!

	He worked his face around and around her snatch, let­ting her moist hair and flesh caress his face, and then he pressed up into her slit and quickly found the throb­bing clit. He licked it back and forth sev­eral times, and then pressed down harder and wrapped his lips around it.

	Dar­lene loved the feel­ing of her brother‘s lips on her clit, but she also loved the feel of her brother‘s cock, and she loved the taste even more. Up and down she trav­elled on that ri­gid staff, let­ting the saliva build up in her mouth the whole time. She knew from past ex­per­i­ence that guys liked a good wet cock bath, and she in­ten­ded to give her brother the best she had ever given any­body.

	And every time she pulled back to the tip of his cock she let her tongue whip around the swollen head. Back and forth across it and then up and down. She tried sev­eral times to work her tongue into his slit but the most she suc­ceeded in do­ing was stim­u­lat­ing his already throb­bing dork to even greater pro­por­tions.

	Paul made sure his hands didn‘t stay idle, and mas­saged each of her tits, knead­ing them hard and heavy like a baker works on bread dough. Then he flicked his fin­gers across her dis­ten­ded nipples, some­times squeez­ing and some­times rub­bing. And pretty soon he es­tab­lished a kind of rhythm between his flick­ing tongue and his flick­ing nails. He knew that his sis­ter was get­ting jolts from her cunt and from her boobs all at the same time.

	Then he felt the pres­sure build­ing up in his loins, and he knew that his sis­ter‘s duck­ing mouth was turn­ing his seed into boil­ing lava. Dar­lene knew this too, since her sens­it­ive mouth could feel the pulsing throbs in her brother‘s cock build­ing faster and faster.

	Sud­denly she pulled away and fell back on the grass, gasp­ing for air. Paul looked up, startled and dis­mayed and the sud­den lack of at­ten­tion to his aching prick.

	”Not that way,“ she moaned, ”I don‘t want you the first time that way. Fuck me. I want you to fuck me for the first time.“

	With that she spread her legs and Paul looked down into the furry patch that was his for the tak­ing. He changed po­s­i­tion again and quickly moun­ted her, ready to stab her with his cock.

	He took his prick in his hand and worked it right up against her hole. Then he pushed for­ward and Dar­lene felt his thick cock­head pen­et­rate her and sink deeply. In a second her snatch was filled with her brother‘s prick, and she gave a mighty sigh of hap­pi­ness and sat­is­fac­tion.

	Paul‘s hips were pressed tightly against hers, and he began to move slowly around and around. He began to grind in a circle, some­thing like a fuck­ing cork­screw, and Dar­lene felt every burn­ing inch of her snatch get­ting mas­saged by her brother‘s flam­ing sword. Around and around he went, and then Dar­lene brought her legs up and wrapped them around her brother‘s waist. Paul was amazed by the vise­like grip that his sis­ter‘s legs cre­ated, and he sensed then for the first time how much she had wanted to be fucked by him.

	He pulled back as much as her leg lock would al­low, giv­ing his cock a good bit of room to plunge down into her again. Then he rammed her again, let­ting his aching prick be en­vel­oped in his sis­ter‘s juicy snatch. He pulled back again and again, and rammed her again and again, and soon both of them were push­ing and pulling like ram­rods.

	Dar­lene already felt her­self on the brink of a come and urged him to hurry. She liked it best when her come and guy‘s come all happened to­gether, and her steam­ing twat ached now for the re­lief of her brother‘s hos­ing.

	Paul com­plied and rammed her harder and faster, feel­ing his own cream about to reach the point of erupt­ing. Faster and faster he went, send­ing his dork deep in­side her with each crazed thrust. Then he knew he could hold it no longer and rammed her for the last time, spurt­ing a steady stream of seed into her cunt.

	Al­most at the same in­stant Dar­lene shrieked, and gripped even tighter with her legs. Her body jerked sev­eral times and her cunt walls con­trac­ted along the length of her brother‘s prick. They had come to­gether just as she had wanted.

	Af­ter­ward they lay to­gether be­neath the last rays of the set­ting sun, and fi­nally the cool­ness of the even­ing air made them get up and get dressed. And dur­ing the drive home they talked of all the times and places when they could fuck and suck again. And they talked of all the dif­fer­ent things they would try with each other.

	The sum­mer‘s end didn‘t spell the end of their re­la­tion­ship, since the col­lege cam­pus was a reas­on­able drive away. Dar­lene went down to the cam­pus al­most every Sat­urday dur­ing the foot­ball sea­son, and some­times Paul would fix her up with a date and some­times they dated each other.

	Dar­lene liked those times best, since af­ter­ward Paul would get a motel room, and they would fuck for the rest of the even­ing. And each time it gave Dar­lene even greater sat­is­fac­tion know­ing what it would do to her father if he only knew.

	She wondered if one day she might even tell him.


CHAPTER TWO

	Some­times the in­ces­tu­ous activ­ity is the end res­ult of a primary need which is filled by means of the close­ness of fam­ily ties. In such an in­stance the par­ti­cipants might con­sider the as­pect of the fam­ily unit as be­ing a dis­tinct ad­vant­age.

	Some things are best done with the fam­ily, an old ex­pres­sion main­tains, and whether or not the line can be drawn against sexual be­ha­vior re­mains to be seen. There is, for ex­ample, cer­tain evid­ence to show that a great deal of in­cest in­volves sexual ini­ti­ation wherein one part­ner learns the mys­ter­ies of sex for the first time at the hands of a fam­ily mem­ber.

	Sig­mund Freud, writ­ing in his volume To­tem and Ta­boo, in­dic­ates that some­times the re­l­at­ive se­cur­ity of sex with a part­ner who has been close for a long time works to over­come any lat­ent or in­her­ent shy­ness or even other trau­mas which might or­din­ar­ily in­hibit the part­ner from find­ing out about sex.

	On the one hand it might be easy to as­sume that the ini­ti­ate is al­ways a young per­son who is taught by someone older and more ex­per­i­enced. But we know today that simply to be older does not mean that one is more ex­per­i­enced. As a mat­ter of fact, today‘s young people are fre­quently far ahead of the adults in the range of ex­per­i­ences, in­clud­ing sex.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Madeline J., age forty-five, had never mar­ried. While she couldn‘t con­sider her younger years as be­ing sheltered ones, she now had to re­flect that she was in some­thing worse than a rut. The years of go­ing without sex had mul­ti­plied and at one time she had felt that there was still time. Now she felt that time had passed.

	When she was a teen-ager, Madeline J. Had had more than her share of boy­friends. She was a pretty girl and her breasts had de­veloped nicely. She knew that boys and men looked at her and ap­pre­ci­ated her and she felt com­fort­able know­ing it.

	She would get mar­ried even­tu­ally, she figured, to the right boy and she would settle down and raise a fam­ily and lead a com­fort­able, nor­mal life. She had been raised rather strictly and in line with her par­ents‘ teach­ings she had re­frained from any form of sexual en­counter.

	Boys soon learned that Madeline was not only not an easy lay, but that she wasn‘t a lay at all. She liked to date and she liked the boys, but whenever things came close she backed off and was po­lite but firm. She was wait­ing un­til she found the right one to marry, and there would be noth­ing un­til then.

	Re­mem­ber­ing now, Madeline bit her lip and struggled to hold back the tears. She had passed from be­ing pop­u­lar to just barely so­ci­able, and even though her pret­ti­ness had held to some de­gree, giv­ing her a hand­some face and a wo­man‘s fig­ure, there had been no more of­fers.

	Some­times now, when her needs grew to the point of des­per­a­tion, she toyed with the idea of go­ing to a bar some­where in the hopes of be­ing picked up. But some­how the sor­did­ness of such an en­counter kept her from ever try­ing the idea. She wanted sex, but now that she was a ma­ture wo­man she couldn‘t bring her­self to do some of the things that she now con­sidered frivol­ous and un­lady­like.

	Madeline worked at a bank hand­ling the new ac­counts de­part­ment. She had been em­ployed there for many years and per­haps it was the aus­ter­ity of the bank and the kinds of strait-laced em­ploy­ees who sur­roun­ded her that pre­ven­ted her from mak­ing the con­tacts that might have or­din­ar­ily con­trib­uted to sat­is­fy­ing her need.

	Some­times, dur­ing lunch, she listened as the other wo­men talked about ba­bies and their fam­il­ies and all she could think of at a time like, that was cocks and fuck­ing. Those wo­men had reg­u­lar fuck­ing, she thought to her­self, oth­er­wise they wouldn‘t be hav­ing ba­bies. A baby to her had come to mean a hot, hard cock stuffed into a cunt.

	Of course she knew about cocks and what they did. The prob­lem was that she didn‘t have any idea what they felt like. And she had no idea what it felt like to have a cunt that was filled with hot meat and boil­ing cream. And soon she be­came like a wo­man who was driven by an ob­ses­sion. Even her dreams began to re­flect her des­per­a­tion.

	If only there was some­place she could go, she wished, some­place where they helped wo­men like her. But there was no place. There was only her home and there was only her to sleep in her bed.

	Madeline had a large house situ­ated in a quiet part of town. She some­times wondered about tak­ing in roomers. Not be­cause she needed the money, but be­cause one of them might even­tu­ally fuck her. But then she wor­ried about her po­s­i­tion at the bank and knew that she couldn‘t jeop­ard­ize her po­s­i­tion by risk­ing sex with a stranger who might spread ru­mors. Word trav­elled fast in a small town.

	Then one day she re­ceived a let­ter from her sis­ter. Her sis­ter was mar­ried and lived about a hun­dred miles away. The let­ter told her that her sis­ter‘s son Tod had fallen be­hind in his stud­ies at col­lege be­cause of the parties that he couldn‘t seem to keep him­self away from, and he was right in the middle of a term pa­per that could mean the dif­fer­ence between his passing or fail­ing an im­port­ant course. Her sis­ter wondered if Madeline would be agree­able to let­ting Tod visit for a week­end to work on his pa­per. Per­haps the quiet and the isol­a­tion would make him fin­ish.

	Madeline re­read the let­ter and then put it aside. She wondered as she sat in a com­fort­able arm­chair just what kind of young man Tod had turned into. She hadn‘t seen him for years, and she re­membered him only as a friendly little boy of four­teen.

	Young Tod must be a man by now, she thought. And with all those parties he goes to he must be quite an act­ive young man. Sow­ing his oats and prob­ably screw­ing everything in skirts. But then her mind re­coiled in shock. Not young Tod, she thought. But then, she could re­mem­ber him only as a little boy.

	She wrote back telling her sis­ter that Tod would be very wel­come, and she would do everything in her power to see that he fin­ished his pa­per. Then she busied her­self for his ar­rival, mak­ing sure that everything was ready for a man in the house.

	A man in the house! What a sound that had to her! A young man would be liv­ing with her for a week­end, eat­ing with her and shar­ing her bath­room. He would sleep on her spare bed, ly­ing there at night in the room next to hers.

	The thought ex­cited her and she felt her blood rush to her face. Some­how she felt em­bar­rassed for what she had been think­ing. After all, Tod was her nephew—her sis­ter‘s boy. But she still felt some­thing in the air, some­thing that might mean a change for her. What could it be.

	Tod ar­rived the next Fri­day even­ing. Madeline had hur­ried home from the bank and had star­ted din­ner for the two of them. She was de­term­ined to make Tod as com­fort­able as pos­sible so that he would at least en­joy his visit with his old maid aunt.

	When the door­bell rang, Madeline was startled, even though she knew who it was. There was still some­thing about hav­ing him here ... some­thing that was in the air.

	She took off her ap­ron hur­riedly and went to the door. For a mo­ment she wasn‘t sure if it was Tod or not. The young man who stood there was strik­ingly hand­some. He had a crew cut and his clear, blue eyes had a smile in them. This cer­tainly wasn‘t the little boy she had re­membered. This was a man!

	”Aunt Madeline? It‘s me, Tod.“

	”Of course, Tod. You must for­give me. It‘s been so long, and you‘re not at all like I had re­membered.“

	”There‘s been an im­prove­ment, I hope,“ Tod laughed. ”I‘m a lot big­ger now.“ Why did everything re­mind her of sex, Madeline thought as she looked back at the hand­some young man. She re­membered the time when Tod had needed help in the bath­room with his zip­per and she had seen his little prick as she zipped him up. He cer­tainly would be a lot big­ger now, she thought to her­self.

	They en­joyed a pleas­ant din­ner and af­ter­ward sat in the liv­ing room talk­ing about the fam­ily. Tod brought her up to date on things and told her about his life at col­lege. It was in­ter­est­ing, Madeline thought, that he re­frained from men­tion­ing any­thing about his girl friend‘s. She as­sumed that he might not want to hurt her with such talk, since she was, after all, his old maid aunt.

	Then Tod an­nounced that he had bet­ter get star­ted on his pa­per if he was go­ing to get it fin­ished, and he went off to the spare room. Madeline sat for a while, star­ing at the empty chair that he had used, and grew more and more de­pressed.

	Then she did some­thing that was for her a rare event. She went into the kit­chen and fixed her­self a drink. So this is what it‘s com­ing to, she thought. She fin­ished the drink and fixed an­other and went back to the liv­ing room.

	Every now and then she could hear sounds from Tod‘s room as he shuffled books and worked. She found her­self think­ing of him more as a male than as her nephew, and she wondered if the girls he had fucked had really ap­pre­ci­ated what they were get­ting. For them a fuck was prob­ably noth­ing spe­cial she figured, whereas to her …

	In the next hour or so Madeline had sev­eral more drinks, far more than she had ever had at any one time be­fore. And with each drink she began to feel more and more des­per­ate. She wanted to get fucked and this boy could do it for her.

	She got up from her chair and walked quietly to Tod‘s room. The door was open and she glanced in. Tod was seated at a small table which he was us­ing as a desk, and he didn‘t seem like he was pay­ing too much at­ten­tion to the book in front of him.

	It seemed like there was some­thing on his mind, and Madeline de­cided that she would use this as an ex­cuse to in­ter­rupt him. She went into his room and stood be­hind him.

	”Oh, hi, Aunt Madeline,“ Tod said when he no­ticed her. ”I guess I was day­dream­ing.“ Madeline looked down at the brist­ling brown­ness of his crew cut and down over his shoulders to the crotch of his pants. Yes, she could see that he had a lot to of­fer a girl. And then, quite sud­denly, she felt that she had never been quite as close to the ob­ject of her need be­fore. But what could she do.

	”I bet you‘re tired,“ she said, and she began to mas­sage his neck. Tod moaned a little in ap­pre­ci­ation and rolled his head from side to side.

	”You prob­ably have lots of girls who do this for you back at the col­lege.“ Tod made a sound that Madeline couldn‘t quite in­ter­pret. But she was feel­ing the ef­fects of the drinks and felt quite bold all of the sud­den.

	”Tod, stop work for a few minutes and come sit here be­side me.“ The boy got up from his desk and sat down on the bed be­side his aunt. As soon as he did so a change came over Madeline. She for­got what it was she was go­ing to talk about and real­ized that this was the first time she had ever even sat on a bed with a man. Sud­denly she was over­come with her de­pres­sion and the tears welled to her eyes.

	”Aunt Madeline. What is it? Are you all right?“ This made her cry even more. Of course she wasn‘t all right.

	”What would you care! You couldn‘t un­der­stand. You sleep with those girls and what does it mat­ter to you? What about me? I‘m forty-five and I‘ve never ...“

	Tod opened his mouth wide in shock. His eyes stared at his aunt. Then she grabbed his hand and pressed it against one of her full breasts. She pressed it hard and held it.

	”Feel it Tod. Feel what I have. And down here. Feel down here and feel what‘s never been used!“

	Her nephew looked like he was try­ing to say some­thing, but it was as if he was too shocked to speak.

	”I can‘t stand it any­more,“ Madeline cried. ”Tod, give it to me. Give it to me like you give it to those girls. You‘ll never miss it!“

	Then she fell back on the bed and sobbed. She had shamed her­self, she thought, and what was this boy go­ing to think of her. She sobbed and sobbed, and then she felt Tod‘s hand on her breast. She opened her eyes and looked at him. The look she saw on his face was some­thing that she couldn‘t fig­ure out. She thought that he might start cry­ing him­self.

	”Aunt Madeline, I know what you think. I know what they all think. But it isn‘t true. I‘ve never ... I mean, I‘ve never done it be­fore.“

	Tod hung his head like someone who had made the greatest con­fes­sion of his life. Madeline stared at him, wip­ing away the tears. She couldn‘t be­lieve what she had heard. After all, he had trouble study­ing at school be­cause of all those parties and those girls.

	”Every­body thinks that‘s what the trouble is, Aunt Madeline, but it isn‘t. All the other guys star­ted do­ing it in high school and they‘ve had no trouble get­ting all they want at col­lege. But me, I wouldn‘t know where to start. I couldn‘t very well try to make it with a girl and have her find out that I‘ve never done it be­fore. And she‘d know.“

	”Tod, we‘re start­ing out even. I‘ve never done it either and I want to. Help me and I‘ll help you.“

	Tod looked at his aunt for a minute, and then reached for her breast again. He rubbed softly and slowly and then he reached be­hind her to un­zip her dress. He fumbled hope­lessly, and Madeline had to smile in spite of her­self. She helped him with the dress and with her bra, and then she coaxed him to press his face down into the fleshy moun­tain of her boobs.

	No sooner had Tod‘s lips touched her tits when he seemed to be over­taken by some force. He began slowly and cau­tiously and within a minute he was rub­bing his face around and around, and let­ting his tongue dip down into the crevice between her boobs. Madeline moaned in sheer de­light from the touch of this hand­some young man who just happened to be her nephew, and as he worked on her breasts she wriggled out of her panties.

	”Down here, Tod. Feel me here.“

	The boy ob­liged his aunt and al­most shouted when he felt the warm moist­ness of her slit. His fin­ger probed for her hole and pushed in­side her. He pushed hard and Madeline bit her lip as the vir­gin walls widened to ac­com­mod­ate a man for the first time.

	”Get un­dressed, Tod, hurry and get un­dressed.“ Madeline watched him as he re­moved his shirt and his pants and his un­der­wear. His prick was already stand­ing up straight and tall and she could see a little pearl of some­thing white right at the tip of his prick. She licked her lips in an­ti­cip­a­tion and pulled him down on her.

	Tod fumbled with his prick, try­ing to find the hole and fi­nally Madeline helped him. Then, when he had it in po­s­i­tion he star­ted to press in. And then Madeline had a cock in­side her for the first time in her life, and the feel­ing made her want to climb the wall. It was un­like any­thing she had ima­gined. The hot hard­ness filled a space in­side her and sent tremors through her whole body.

	She wrapped her arms around Tod and she could feel him shiv­er­ing. She held him tight as he star­ted gingerly to un­du­late his lower body, feel­ing for the first time the thrill of hav­ing his prick in­side a twat. Then, very gradu­ally he began to move back and forth, let­ting his cock slide in and out Madeline‘s snatch.

	After about five times, Tod felt his cock swell and a force start to move through his in­sides. He fucked faster now and then the force ex­ploded and a sud­den surge flowed through him as his cock spur­ted jet after jet of his cream into his aunt‘s twat.

	She felt it im­me­di­ately and cried out. Her cry startled the boy and he sud­denly pulled back from her, his wet cock plop­ping out of her cunt. Then, as soon as the tur­moil in­side her ebbed, she ex­plained to him that there was noth­ing to be afraid of. She was all right. As a mat­ter of fact she had never been bet­ter.

	After they res­ted, Tod asked if he could try it again, and Madeline was more than will­ing. This time both knew some­thing about fuck­ing and they began to ex­per­i­ment. Tod took longer to come this time and spent much more time in try­ing dif­fer­ent thrusts. Some­times he went fast and some­times he went slow. He tried go­ing around and around and al­tern­at­ing this cir­cu­lar fuck­ing with his for­ward thrusts.

	Madeline star­ted to re­cog­nize the points on her body that stim­u­lated her the most and she urged Tod to work on these. And after they had fucked again, they fell asleep in each oth­ers‘ arms.

	The next day, after break­fast, they re­turned to the bed­room and spent the whole day try­ing dif­fer­ent po­s­i­tions and dif­fer­ent forms of sex. Madeline sucked him off and Tod went down on her snatch, eat­ing her out like a champ! They stopped only for lunch and din­ner, and even then they could hardly keep their hands off each oth­ers‘ bod­ies.

	All too quickly Sunday even­ing came, and Tod had to leave for school. His pa­per was still un­fin­ished but he ex­plained to his aunt that he would have no trouble fin­ish­ing it back at school. It had been his con­stant de­sire fox sex that had pre­ven­ted him from work­ing, and now the gates had opened for him. But he asked his aunt if he could come back again the next week­end, and Madeline made him prom­ise that he would.

	Both aunt and nephew have been bet­ter for the ex­per­i­ence.


CHAPTER THREE

	Re­cent stud­ies have re­vealed that the greatest per­cent­age of cases in­volving in­ces­tu­ous activ­ity are hushed up and never really come to pub­lic know­ledge. In some situ­ations the fam­ily it­self cov­ers up the situ­ation and handles the prob­lem within its own sphere. Di­vorce or sep­ar­a­tion between other mem­bers of the fam­ily is a com­mon solu­tion. And some­times even the cases that come to the at­ten­tion of the au­thor­it­ies are smoothed over and a charge such as ”con­trib­ut­ing to the de­lin­quency of a minor“ is levied.

	The causes of in­cest are many and var­ied, most of which are be­ing ex­plored on these pages. One very pre­val­ent cause is that of the ”for­bid­den fruit“ syn­drome. In this situ­ation it is the very fact that so­ci­ety—and the law—con­demn the activ­ity that en­cour­ages its tak­ing place in the be­gin­ning.

	Don­ald Geddes, writ­ing in his au­thor­it­at­ive volume An Ana­lysis of the Kin­sey Re­ports, em­phas­izes that many of the in­di­vidu­als in­ter­viewed by Dr. Kin­sey in­dic­ate that the for­bid­den as­pect of one sex act or an­other promp­ted the in­di­vidual to ex­plore the un­charted ground for him­self. As one in­ter­viewee put it, ”I had al­ways been told that it was wrong and that ‚good‘ people didn‘t do it. But what the hell. It was like telling a kid that he couldn‘t have candy. It just soun­ded more and more tempt­ing and I wanted to find out for my­self what all the shout­ing was about!“

	And so it is in many situ­ations. The lure of what is for­bid­den be­comes stronger and stronger un­til fi­nally all re­serve breaks away and the deed is done. In the fol­low­ing case his­tory an in­ter­est­ing vari­ation on this fact oc­curs. The girl, Joanne M., was in­tro­duced to sex when she was twelve and had in­ter­course with a cousin at that time. She then ex­per­i­enced sex with other boys and men but found the lure of in­cest strongest of all.


CASE HIS­TORY

	”I was born about eight­een years ago in a small town in Ver­mont. I gave my folks a hell of a time, even when I was a little kid. They were al­ways so wor­ried about what people would say about this and about that. I never let it bother me, though, I hated the place and the people and couldn‘t wait to get away.

	”So I grew up sort of as a tom­boy. And as I got older I got bet­ter-look­ing, to the point of be­ing one hell of a good-look­ing girl. I have long blond hair and blue eyes and a pretty face. But when people, es­pe­cially men, look at the rest of me they for­get all about my face. I have big boobs and wear a 36-D bra and fill it up nice and snug. I‘m five-seven and it looks like I‘m all tits and legs.

	”Of course my mother thought all the at­ten­tion I caused was dread­ful and sin­ful. She even tried to make me wear a creepy thing to keep my tits from stick­ing out so much! But thank heaven the doc­tor talked her out of that!

	”When men stared at me she ac­ted so damned em­bar­rassed and told me not to worry about it! But I loved it! The way their eyes would roam all over my body and all just made my cunt start to cream up. I loved the feel­ing that they wanted me. And I wanted them, too.

	”I was brought up strictly but that never stopped me from do­ing any­thing I wanted to. As hard as they tried they couldn‘t watch me every minute of the day and night. So I had my fun.

	”I learned about sex when I was twelve or so. My tits were bud­ding out and I looked much older. Then my mother had a talk with me. It was a real riot. She went on about how boys would want to do things to me that no nice girl did un­til she was mar­ried. I kept try­ing to find out just what the things were so she gave me a book to read. From the de­scrip­tion, it all soun­ded kind of fun.

	”For as long as I can re­mem­ber I‘d al­ways played with my­self. It felt so good to rub my cunt un­til my clit stood straight up in the air. I tried other things too. Frozen hot dogs worked just fine but they were kind of cold. But my hot gash warmed them up pretty fast and I al­ways came.

	”As soon as I found out that men had big rods to stick up my cunt I wanted one. And it didn‘t take me long to find one.

	”That sum­mer a cousin of mine stayed with us. He was sev­en­teen and a good-look­ing guy. We used to go swim­ming and play ten­nis and crap like that. My folks never thought that he would make a play for a young kid like me. Neither did he, really, un­til I made it pretty clear that I wanted him to.

	”I waited un­til a time when my folks were out at night so that we wouldn‘t be dis­turbed. Then I asked him if he wanted to go for a walk. It was hot so we headed down to the lake. When we got there I sug­ges­ted that we go for a swim. He gave me the usual crap about not hav­ing a suit so I told him it was dark and we wouldn‘t need one. Then I star­ted strip­ping off my clothes.

	”I just loved the way he stared at my bare tits. He was try­ing not to look but he couldn‘t help him­self. And then his eyes went down to my hairy bush. All the while I was busy look­ing at his body. I had never seen a na­ked guy be­fore and I thought he was just beau­ti­ful. His cock was half-hard and looked so sweet nest­ing in his furry patch.

	”The moon was bright so that we could see each other clearly. I didn‘t feel em­bar­rassed or ashamed or any­thing. I just felt won­der­ful to be na­ked in the moon­light with a boy who ap­pre­ci­ated my body.

	”We stood there just look­ing at each other for a while and it was fun. But I wanted to do more than just look. I walked up to him and stood close let­ting my bare tits rub against his chest. At the first touch my nipples got all hard and stood out swollen on my tits.

	”He put his arms around me and held me tight against his strong hard body. I loved the feel of his muscles hold­ing on to me. As we kissed I could feel his cock swell up to its full length. It pressed hard against me as though it was try­ing to come in.

	”As his tongue probed in­side my mouth I felt my pussy get­ting hot and wild. With each new kiss my cunt was get­ting more and more wet and I loved the feel of it. I reached down and took his prick in my hand. It was firm and hard as a rock. As I held it I could al­most feel the blood rush­ing through his veins to keep up the size.

	”His prick was big but it didn‘t scare me one bit. From ex­per­i­ence I knew that once my pussy got wet and sloppy just about any­thing could fit in with no trouble at all.

	”I was get­ting so hot that I pulled away from him and lay down in the grass. I spread my legs a little and held my arms out to him. In a flash he was on top of me, kiss­ing me some more and run­ning his hands all over my soft flesh. He felt so good that I never wanted him to stop.

	”His lips went all over my body and kissed and sucked on every inch of me. He licked and sucked my boobs un­til my nipples were throb­bing and swollen with pas­sion.

	”My cunt was go­ing wild from want­ing his thick cock to come in­side and fill the aching void within me. Fi­nally I took it in my hand and led it to the moist spot between my legs.

	”It was my first time and I wasn‘t ex­pect­ing his prick to tear into me the way it did. I felt a brief stab of pain with his first thrust. But right after that, as soon as I felt his heat in­side me, filling me up, I was all right. In fact, I had never felt bet­ter.

	”He was still for a few seconds and then began to move in and out slowly. I loved the mo­tion of his cock and began to re­spond right away. My body moved with him, meet­ing every thrust of his rod. I was on fire and so was he. With every new thrust he was push­ing his cock harder and faster and I just loved it.

	”He only las­ted a few minutes that first time. When he came I was more than ready for him. As his hot cream poured into my pussy I had the most di­vine sense of com­plete re­lax­a­tion. I didn‘t give a damn about any­thing or any­body. I only cared about the won­der­ful sen­sa­tion that flooded me.

	”I didn‘t really come that time but it was great any­way. For the rest of the sum­mer my cousin and I snuck off every chance we got. I‘ll never for­get the first time I really did come.

	”It was about two weeks later and we had fucked four or five times. My folks were go­ing out again so we went back to the lake. We stripped each other, run­ning our hands all over the place. That was one thing that turned us both on fast. After all the touch­ing and caress­ing we were ready to screw without any more stim­u­la­tion at all.

	”He entered my hot box quickly, thrust­ing his prick all the way in with his first mo­tion. It filled me up and we star­ted go­ing fast. His cock dove in and out of my cunt hard and fast from the very be­gin­ning. It didn‘t last too long but the minute I felt his cream spurt off in­side me some­thing happened in my cunt.

	”I just went crazy. My nails were rak­ing his back while my pussy was go­ing into un­con­trol­lable spasms. I felt the earth spin around as I let go of everything but the pleas­ure that was filling me. It was really the most ter­rific thing that had ever happened to me.

	”The sum­mer went by quickly, with me fuck­ing and com­ing every chance I got. The funny thing was that my folks kept say­ing how nice it was that we got along so well since he was so much older. We used to laugh about that a lot.

	”We didn‘t just fuck. I mean we talked a lot, too. In fact, hear­ing about the great big world out­side of Ver­mont made me want to grow up fast so that I could get out. He had trav­elled all over the coun­try and liked Los Angeles best. He made it sound so good that I de­cided I would go there when I got old enough. I told my folks that and they just laughed. But from the time I was twelve I knew that someday I would be on a bus head­ing west and here I am.

	”Sex is kind of like potato chips—you can‘t stop with just one. And after my cousin left, that was how I was. I missed him so much it was driv­ing me nuts. I missed his thick cock most of all and I had a hell of a time find­ing a re­place­ment.

	”Most of the boys I knew were my age and some were younger. They didn‘t know a damn thing about fuck­ing and didn‘t really care. I don‘t think they were old enough to get it up either. So I star­ted hanging around the older boys. In spite of my big tits and all they knew I was just a young kid so they didn‘t try any­thing. It was a really miser­able time for me. I didn‘t get screwed for six months after my cousin left.

	”Maybe if I had had someone to talk to about it the whole thing wouldn‘t have been so dread­ful. But all the girls I knew were cherry and most of them thought of sex as some­thing you had to do when you got mar­ried and not be­cause you felt like it even then. We were all brought up to be­lieve that sleep­ing with a man was a big nuis­ance but you had to put up with it if you wanted kids and a house and all that shit. Some­times I won­der just why I was so dif­fer­ent. Prob­ably be­cause I used to play with my clit so much that I knew how good sex could be.

	”At thir­teen I could have passed for at least eight­een if you didn‘t look too good at my face. And no one did much after a view of the rest of me. There was an­other small town about five miles away and I used to go shop­ping there once in a while with my mother.

	”No one knew me there so I de­cided to go alone and try to pick up an older boy who knew what he was do­ing. One night when my par­ents were go­ing to be out late I got on my bike and rode to town. Sum­mer was a long way away and I al­most froze. At least there wasn‘t any snow.

	”I parked my bike at the edge of town and walked the rest of the way. I found the local hangout easy enough. There was a juke box blar­ing away and a lot of kids drink­ing so­das and dan­cing.

	”The minute I walked in I could feel all the eyes look­ing me over. I had worn a short skirt and tight sweater and even a bra couldn‘t keep my tits from jig­gling up and down. It was fun to watch the ex­pres­sions on every­one‘s face. The other girls didn‘t look at all happy to see me but all the guys were light­ing up like torches! I wanted to look down and see if any of them were get­ting hot but I was kind of afraid to.

	”I went and put some money in the juke box and then ordered a soda. Be­fore it got there one of the cutest boys sat down next to me and told the waiter he would take care of it. So we sat there and drank for a few minutes. He asked me my name and if I was new in town and the usual crap like that. I told him some lie about just passing through. Any­way, after our so­das were gone he asked me to dance.

	”It was a slow one and he held me very close. My tits were press­ing into his chest and I loved the feel­ing of his strong arms around my body. I moved in closer and I could feel his cock get­ting stiff. He was really hung and as we danced I thought about how it would feel to have his hard­ness in­side me. By then I was cream­ing up so hard that my panties were soaked with love-juice.

	”He asked me if I wanted to dance some more or go for a drive. I sure didn‘t feel like dan­cing. He had an old car that barely ran. But the heater worked and he had the front seat fixed up so that it could col­lapse and make a kind of bed in back.

	”As soon as we got to a deser­ted place he star­ted kiss­ing me. I kissed him back, run­ning my tongue along his lips and all. His hands were all over my body, pressed against my tits and down in between my legs over my clothes. I got the feel­ing that he al­most ex­pec­ted me to stop him but that was the last thing I had in mind.

	”As our bod­ies moved closer to each other and the heat was rising between us I ran my hand over the hard bulge in his pants. His cock was even big­ger than I had thought. I un­zipped his fly so that I could feel his bare flesh in my hand. As I fondled his thick cock I could al­most feel the blood pulsing through it.

	”He got bolder and soon I was stripped down com­pletely and so was he. He made the seat col­lapse and we lay back on the hard sur­face. He sucked my tits for a long time and then licked my cunt a few times. No one had ever done that to me be­fore and I just loved it. His tongue was soft and long and every time it ran over my clit I felt close to com­ing from just that.

	”My pussy was drip­ping and steam­ing when he fi­nally climbed on and dug in. His prick was big­ger than I was used to but I didn‘t mind a bit. After the first weird kind of sen­sa­tion my cunt ad­jus­ted just fine. In fact, I loved the large size of it be­cause it filled me up so much bet­ter.

	”And boy, could that guy fuck! He knew more ways to wiggle his cock in and out of me than I had ever ima­gined. Be­sides just plain go­ing up and down he went ‚round at the same time so that every bit of my pussy was get­ting good con­tact with his prick. And once in a while he would angle in so that his prick rubbed my clit and that drove me up the wall. I had never been through any­thing like that with my cousin.

	”He las­ted a long time and when he spur­ted he filled my cunt up so full that I was al­most over­flow­ing. I came three times just from that one fuck. And back then that was some kind of re­cord for me.

	”And hell, in five minutes his prick was ri­gid and ready to go again. The second time was even bet­ter. I swear he must have fucked me for at least half an hour be­fore he creamed. I don‘t know how many times I came then. I was just too busy to bother count­ing.

	”He asked if he could drive me home and I sure as hell didn‘t want to freeze my tail off on my bike. So I fed him some story about how my folks would never let me go out. We picked up my bike and he let me off a few blocks from home.

	”All that winter and spring I used to meet him out­side of town and we would go and park and fuck. It was all kinds of fun. He didn‘t have any idea at all of how old I was un­til I told him. I was hav­ing my period so I sucked him off in­stead of fuck­ing. I don‘t know why but that al­ways makes me feel older. Maybe be­cause he told me that he had never met a girl who did it as well as I did.

	”Any­way, cocky like I told him that I was only thir­teen and asked him what he thought of it. He looked scared shit­less and told me that I should have told him be­fore. He kept talk­ing about jail-bait and shit like that for a long time. To calm him down I had to blow him all over again. And after that, as soon as all his jism was down my throat, he ac­ted more nervous than ever. That was the last time I saw him. And I guess he must have told all his friends too. The next time I walked into the hangout all the guys told me to go home and play with my dolls. I was really pissed.

	”So I was back in the same hole all over again with no one to fuck me.

	”I‘m kind of ashamed about the next part but there‘s no point in leav­ing any­thing out in my own private di­ary. I had a dog, a big Ger­man shep­herd named Fritz. He was al­ways sniff­ing around my cunt and all—the way dogs al­ways do.

	”One morn­ing I was all alone in the house. I lay in bed run­ning my fin­gers in and out of my creamy slit, mak­ing be­lieve that they were a thick cock. It was go­ing pretty well un­til I felt some­thing cold on my hand. I jumped four feet in the air be­fore I had the nerve to look down and see that it had only been the dog.

	”I told him to get the hell out of my room and I worked up a new creamy lather in my cunt. But Fritz wouldn‘t leave me alone. He kept on sniff­ing at my wet pussy. Fi­nally I just lay there to see what he would really do.

	”He began to lick off the cream in­side my thighs. At the first touch of his warm tongue so close to my cunt I shot out an­other wad of cream. He licked it up quickly and went on back and licked out the rest of my pussy. I was dy­ing to get his tongue bur­ied deep in­side my snatch but he was just too dumb to go on back to the hole. I was get­ting all frus­trated be­fore I thought of a great idea.

	”I slipped on my robe and went down­stairs. I grabbed one of his very fa­vor­ite dog bis­cuits and ran back up­stairs with it, drip­ping cream all the way. Half out of my mind with pas­sion, I rushed to the bed and showed Fritz the bis­cuit. As I saw him watch­ing it with saliva drip­ping out of his mouth, I stuffed it into my cunt. It felt a little scratchy go­ing in but I was so wet down there that it just about dis­solved in the head of my cream.

	”Fritz caught on right away. I spread my legs wide open and let him start lick­ing all over again. He reamed my pussy out again and then kept on sniff­ing his way back to the hole where the bis­cuit was bur­ied. As his tongue ran in and out of my box I lost in­terest in everything but the feel­ings run­ning from my cunt all the way up to my head. I star­ted com­ing and didn‘t stop for hours. By then Fritz was gone and I was alone.

	”I felt kind of low after that. I figured that if I was so damned horny that I had to trick the dog into lick­ing me I was in bad shape. I knew it was from let­ting a whole month go by without get­ting any­thing hot in my gash. So I de­cided then and there not to let a week go by when I didn‘t get fucked. It was hard some­times to find enough guys around but I kept my pledge.

	”The funny thing was that my folks never had any idea what their sweet little daugh­ter was up to. All the kids in school knew that I could be had easy but some­how it never got back. I was glad about that. For one thing, I didn‘t really want to hurt my folks. They were screwed up as hell about sex but I guess they meant well. And be­sides that, I didn‘t want to have to listen to any damned lec­tures.

	”Any­way, for the next couple of years I had a hell of a good time with all the boys in school. And I mean just about all of them. I can re­mem­ber one night when I snuck out of the house after I was sup­posed to be in bed. I ran into the woods to meet a guy and found five of them. They had got­ten their sig­nals crossed some­how and they were just about ready to fight it out. I didn‘t want any­one to get hurt so I told them that I would take them all on. As I said it I could see all their cocks get hard at once in the moon­light. That really turned me on.

	”Un­til right then I wasn‘t too sure about tak­ing them on all at once. But hell, be­ing able to look up and see their pricks stand­ing straight up like that, telling me that they all wanted me, I just couldn‘t res­ist. So I told them to get in line, mak­ing sure that the guy I was really sup­posed to meet went first.

	”Usu­ally the guys spend a lot of time play­ing around with my tits and kiss­ing and all that and it really turns me on a hell of a lot. But with all those stiff pokers look­ing at me I didn‘t need an­other thing but the feel of one of them in­side me.

	”So when the first guy star­ted to fool around I cut him short and took his prick in my hand. Then I led it down to­wards my bub­bling cunt and let him push it in. He didn‘t ram me very hard with his first thrust but his prick went all the way in. He had a long, thick one that filled up my pussy all the way.

	”As he worked his tool in and out I saw all the other guys stand­ing around us watch­ing. I was sur­prised that didn‘t turn me off but it made me even hot­ter in­stead. See­ing all the rest of those thick cocks just wait­ing in line let me know what kind of great pleas­ure I was in for.

	”The guy in­side was bat­ter­ing my cunt with his ram for all he was worth. He kept on do­ing it harder and faster with every stroke. I could tell that he would be com­ing soon but for once it didn‘t bother me. All I had to do was look around and know that there would be plenty more fuck­ing that night.

	”He shot his wad fast and it filled me up with hot cream. As soon as I felt his juice in­side me I star­ted com­ing and kept on for two or three good cli­maxes. It was pretty great, hold­ing onto his shrink­ing cock and not want­ing to let go.

	”As soon as we were done, he slipped out and the next boy in line climbed on. His prick was longer and thicker and I re­membered that he was a hell of a good lay. So I lay back and grinned up at him, let­ting him know that I really dug hav­ing his prick in­side me.

	”He hit it all the way home with the first thrust and my already soaked pussy creamed up even more as I felt him in­side me. He worked in and out as I thrust my ass up to meet him. He had such a groovy prick that I didn‘t want to hurry it out.

	”He took his time, mak­ing his thrusts slow and easy for a while. He rammed it in and let it just stay there, hard and big, filling me up and mak­ing me happy without mov­ing it up and down at all. I came twice just from that, from his thick cock stay­ing still in my cunt.

	”I guess the pres­sure from my come made him hot as any­thing be­cause he creamed me soon after that. As I felt his warm wet­ness in­side me I looked up and saw the other pricks still wait­ing in line. Right then I felt like I‘d gone to heaven— get­ting fucked and star­ing at a line of hard cocks.

	”From then on I spent most of my time com­ing. Hell, after a while I didn‘t know just who was in­side and I didn‘t give much of a damn! But there was a con­tinu­ous flow of cocks and that was all that mattered. It las­ted a couple of hours un­til I was ex­hausted. And even then I didn‘t want to stop but my back and legs were giv­ing out on me. Not to men­tion my cunt! It was the greatest thing that had ever happened to me, apart from be­ing balled by my cousin!

	”And then some­thing hit me! For as many cocks as I had had stuffed into my pussy, and for as many pricks as had creamed in­side my mouth, I real­ized that I had ex­per­i­enced two dif­fer­ent kinds of sex. There had been my cousin, and then there had been every­body else. What the fuck was so dif­fer­ent about him?

	”Of course I knew that part of the bad repu­ta­tion I had been get­ting came from the fact that just about every­body knew my cousin had screwed me. Word gets around quickly in a town like this. And even though they knew I didn‘t care a bit. As a mat­ter of fact, I think just know­ing it gave me the little elec­tric kind of tingles that I got just be­fore I came!

	”I knew then that just the fact that it was my cousin and he had been fam­ily had made it as ex­cit­ing as I re­membered it. I knew about the word they had for that sort of thing. In­cest! Well, what the hell! I wanted the best kind of sex and if that was what it was go­ing to be, then tough tit­tie!

	”That‘s when I de­cided to pull out and make it on my own. My cousin was long gone and my Dad was a little too old for any­thing like that. But in Cali­for­nia?! Had a bach­elor uncle who had a repu­ta­tion in the fam­ily worse than mine. My Mom hardly ever talked about it, but I knew that he had this apart­ment above the Sun­set Strip and took on girl room­mates like a car takes on gas!

	”I had seen a pic­ture of him re­cently and he was a doll. Tall and hand­some and really well built. And even though the pic­ture didn‘t show it, I just knew he was goin‘ to have a great cock! Just the fact that he was my uncle was go­ing to give him a great cock—and me a great lay!

	”And I had no ques­tions about whether he would want to take me in or not. With my face and my body, and my eager­ness—well shit! What more could an uncle want!“


CHAPTER FOUR

	Be­ha­vi­oral sci­ent­ists have been de­bat­ing for some time over the im­port­ance of en­vir­on­ment as a causal factor of vari­ant be­ha­vior. Most are in some form of agree­ment as to the im­port­ance of en­vir­on­ment when it comes to sex and sexual at­ti­tudes.

	Dr. Frank S. Caprio, writ­ing in his book Vari­ations in Sexual Be­ha­vior, isol­ates en­vir­on­ment as a ma­jor factor lead­ing to the at­ti­tudes and ex­pres­sions of sex in later life. As con­trib­ut­ory factors he men­tions ” ... par­ental in­flu­ence ... per­sonal re­ac­tions to home en­vir­on­ment ... ex­pos­ure to situ­ations threat­en­ing one‘s sense of se­cur­ity, i.e. the death of one or both par­ents; par­ental in­com­pat­ib­il­ity res­ult­ing in di­vorce ... poverty.“

	One im­port­ant ele­ment of en­vir­on­ment not men­tioned in Dr. Caprio‘s list is loc­a­tion. Some­times the very place it­self con­sti­tutes an at­mo­sphere which, in the ref­er­ence of our study here, fosters in­ces­tu­ous activ­ity.

	There have been for many years nu­mer­ous jokes made about sex on the farm. There is the never-end­ing series about the trav­el­ing sales­man and the farmer‘s daugh­ter, not to men­tion the liber­ties taken with an­im­als. From the more aca­demic side there have been ref­er­ences made as to the free-think­ing, less in­hib­ited qual­it­ies of rural life which work to strip away many of the con­ven­tions and mores which our so­ci­ety uses as sexual stand­ards.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Carla M., six­teen, is a farm girl. The open at­mo­sphere of the farm has been her cradle, and the fields and barn­yards her playpen. And per­haps the close­ness of life on the farm and the in­tens­ity of emo­tions between her­self and her par­ents and brother helped her to ac­cept the dual in­stance of in­cest which came her way. Carla tells this in her own words.

	”I star­ted playin‘ around a long, long time ago. Shit, I can re­mem­ber when I was five and the neigh­bor‘s little boy was play­ing around with my pussy out be­hind the hay­stack. I liked it then, and I‘ve never stopped lik­ing it—right to this very minute!

	”Of course the first real sex I had was with my brother. I hear a lot of girls start that way. He was first and then lots of field hands and then the guys in school and work­ing right on down the line to my dear old Dad. But I was only nine when I star­ted with my brother. He was thir­teen and he had just come to the point where his prick was start­ing to get hard a lot. He was al­ways after some­thing to sat­isfy him and after try­ing all the an­im­als he de­cided he wanted a girl.

	”I was the only girl around so it made sense that he picked me. And I didn‘t mind a fuckin‘ bit! One day, when our folks were off to get the tractor re­paired he took me up to his bed­room and pulled his big cock right out of his pants.

	”I looked at that long hard thing and it re­minded me of a shovel handle. I took it in my hand and rubbed it for a while, and then he told me that he wanted to stick it in my pussy. So I said sure and lay back on the bed.

	”He took that whop­per of a prick, and rammed it up me to the hilt. It hurt a little, since it was big­ger than any­thing else that I had put up there. But it didn‘t give me any big pain, so I re­laxed and en­joyed it.

	”It got so that I was mov­ing up to meet every thrust, and hav­ing my­self a good old time. He came right soon though, filling my cunt with good, hot cream. It felt nice and warm, and made me feel good all over.

	”Well, that was just so much fun we kept right on do­ing it every chance we got. The second or third time, I came, and that was the nicest thing that had ever happened to me in my whole life. I lay there and the whole wide world just seemed to be go­ing around in my head, shoot­ing off bet­ter sparks than on the Fourth of July.

	”The only thing was, a year after that, my brother got big enough to go to work, so Pappy sent him to a farm thirty miles away. After that, we didn‘t get too much chance to fuck none. But I‘m still par­tial to him, and whenever we get the chance, we still can give each other a good time.

	”After that, I was get­ting kind of itch­ing for some more fuck­ing. I missed my brother a hell of a lot, and there weren‘t too many other men around. So I star­ted play­ing around with my dog.

	”He was a nice dog, real friendly and all. He was al­ways sniff­ing around my cunt, but Ma had al­ways told me I should push him away. I did, but then I got to won­der­ing just what he would do if I let him have his way. So one day, I did.

	”I was still in bed, when I heard every­one on their way to church. I had a cold, so I couldn‘t go. Then the dog came up, look­ing for some com­pany. I sat on the bed, all na­ked, get­ting ready to get dressed when he walked into the room.

	”He came over, and star­ted sniff­ing around my cunt. I spread my legs wide open, and let him do whatever he wanted to. And that sure was plenty.

	”After sniff­ing for a long time, just his breath mak­ing my cunt juices start to flow, he fi­nally got his tongue in there. He licked my pussy, like he was try­ing to dry me up. But hell, the more he licked, the wet­ter I got.

	”I could feel my clit start­ing to get all big and hard, and so could the dog. He worked his tongue over it real good, un­til he made me come. His tongue was deep in­side my hole, when I star­ted com­ing, and my pussy had such a tight grasp on him that he just couldn‘t get his tongue out. He looked real funny, from what I could see.

	”Well, that dog and I be­came the best good friends you would ever want to see. We just went every­where to­gether. My folks thought it was nice, but then, they didn‘t know what we did all the time.

	”Once, I star­ted play­ing around with his prick. I took it in my hand, and worked it up and down, just like it was a man‘s. He got all lathered up, and shot his wad right into my hand. After that, I just couldn‘t get that dog to stay away from me, no how. He treated me just like I was a bitch in heat.

	”But he sure was a smart dog. He knew that he shouldn‘t sniff and lick my cunt when there was any­one else around. But hell, we went off on our own enough to sat­isfy him, and me. He just up and left one day, and never came back. I ain‘t sure, but I reckon some farmer caught him try­ing to eat some live chick­ens, and shot him. He sure was a good dog, though.

	”It seems like right after he done took off, my pappy made some more money, be­cause we got to hire us three field hands. They were all cute, one cuter than the next one. I couldn‘t make up my mind which one I wanted to get in­side my pants most, so I had them all.

	”That was the easi­est thing I ever did, too. I was get­ting nice arid ripe, with little tit­ties pop­ping out and get­ting big faster than I thought they did. Since I was the only pretty girl around, they all were nice as pie to me.

	”Ma, she no­ticed it right away, but didn‘t say noth­ing. Hell, it wasn‘t un­usual or any­thing for men to be after a good-look­ing gal, and for them to look right back.

	”Since they had more money, my folks star­ted go­ing into town for a movie a lot more of­ten, leav­ing me home to mind the lit­tler kids. They were no trouble at all—they knew damn well I‘d beat the shit out of them if they didn‘t be­have. So after they were in bed, I used to go out for a walk in the moon­light. And nat­ur­ally, I walked down past the men‘s cabin.

	”Tom was the first one I let get into my pants. He saw me walk­ing and asked if I wanted com­pany. I sure did. We walked down by the pond, which was about the most ro­mantic spot around. I had a blanket down there I used to lay on while the dog was play­ing with me, so I got that out and we lay down.

	”We were there watch­ing the stars, when he leaned over and kissed me. I kissed him back. He was a damn good kisser, run­ning his tongue all around my mouth, get­ting me real hot in my crotch.

	”Then he star­ted run­ning my tits, and that felt good. No one had done that too much at all. Pretty soon, he had my blouse off, and was suck­ing away, get­ting my tit-tips to stand straight up. Gosh, was I ever get­ting wet. I knew my pussy was sop­ping, and hoped that when he star­ted play­ing in that he wouldn‘t drown or any­thing.

	”He ran his hand all over my body, play­ing around with my cunt hairs, and then fi­nally my clit. That near drove me wild, hav­ing him do that to me.

	”I was play­ing around with his prick a lot, too, get­ting it nice and ready to slip in my hole. When I was all ready for him to climb on and stick me, he kind of grabbed me and put me on top of him. I lowered my cunt down on his prick, get­ting more of it in­side me than I had ever had be­fore. It felt real good, hav­ing him filling me up all the way like that.

	”I star­ted mov­ing up and down on his prick, ro­tat­ing my hips and all so he would have a good time. And it made me pretty happy too, feel­ing that big piece of meat go­ing all the way down to the bot­tom of my hole.

	”The only thing I didn‘t like about it was that when he came, in­stead of hav­ing all his hot cream fill me up, it kind of dribbled back down his prick, and out. But that wasn‘t such a big thing, and I got a nice come out of it any­way.

	”The next night, my folks went out again, and I played around with Jimmy. He had a small prick, but he knew just how to move it. I felt like my cunt had never got a more thor­ough work­ing over than with him. Shit, he twis­ted and turned so much that it felt like my cunt was over­flow­ing with his prick.

	”After that, I let Bill screw me. He was real sweet, and very gentle. It was kind of a change, but it felt kind of funny. When I fi­nally get rammed, I like to feel it go in nice and hard, and all the way up. He was just a little too del­ic­ate about the whole thing.

	”But they were all three of them good enough to play around with, and I got a good fuck­ing ses­sion just about every night, and some­times in the af­ter­noon.

	”By then, my folks had de­cided I was old enough to date, and school star­ted again. I think I must have gone out with every guy in the school, and got­ten fucked by just about all of them.

	”They were all nice guys, and had good pricks. I just love the feel of a hard prick in my cunt, and I don‘t give a damn who is on the other end, so to speak. Well, the guys really ap­pre­ci­ated that. Some of them told me that a lot of girls felt like they had to be in love be­fore they would let some guy fuck them. Hell, I was in love, too, in my own way. I was just in love with the feel­ing of a hard, thick prick up my cunt.

	”Most of the guys just liked to plain fuck. But a few of them would rather have other kinds of fun. One I went out with was crazy for me to blow him.

	”I knew all about blow­jobs from some of my girl friends, and I had al­ways thought the only reason for one was if the girl didn‘t want to fuck. But this guy said that he was get­ting bored with fuck­ing, some­thing I didn‘t un­der­stand at all, and wanted some­thing a little dif­fer­ent.

	”I wasn‘t too happy about it, but shit, I‘d never done it, and it might be fun. So I took his long whang into my mouth, and star­ted suck­ing on it. It felt nice, really. It was big and hard, and tasted pretty good. Be­sides, after all, it was a prick, and it was do­ing a good job of filling me up. So it wasn‘t in my cunt, but that didn‘t mat­ter at all.

	”Any­way, I sucked and tongued that prick of his for a long time, un­til fi­nally he sent a gush of salty-tast­ing jism into my mouth. It didn‘t taste bad or any­thing, so I swal­lowed it down, and wished for more.

	”The trouble was, and I told him plain out, I just hadn‘t come from blow­ing him. I told him it wasn‘t fair that he should come and I shouldn‘t, so what did he want to do about it?

	”He was kind of a mean bas­tard, and he just told me that was my prob­lem. He didn‘t give a damn if I came or not. That got me mad, so I told him to take me home right away. He did, and that was the last time I ever went out with him. The nasty creep!

	”The older I got, the more places I could go to find a man with a good cock. I had an older girl friend who could drive, so we star­ted go­ing to pool halls, to play and get picked up. She liked to fuck just as much as I did.

	”The pool halls were good places for that. There were a lot of older men there, and they were a lot bet­ter in bed than the guys at school. I‘d fucked all of them by then, any­way.

	”I guess the main dif­fer­ence with an older guy is that he‘s more re­laxed about the whole thing. He‘s been fuck­ing for years, so he knows damn well what it‘s like, and all that. Be­sides, it seemed like the older guys could last a whole lot longer. And there‘s noth­ing bet­ter than a long, hard fuck.

	”I re­mem­ber one guy in par­tic­u­lar was just great. He took me back to his place, and we fucked all night long. I told my folks I was stay­ing with a girl friend and spent the night.

	”The great thing about this guy was that every fuck was bet­ter and longer than the last one. The first time we did it, it was kind of nor­mal, felt good and made me come. But the next time, I swear that guy went for half an hour be­fore he shot his wad. By then, I had come at least a dozen times, just from that one fuck.

	”I thought he was all played out, but was I ever wrong. After half an hour or so, he was stick­ing up and rarin‘ to go. That time, he just kept run­ning that prick in­side me for close to an hour. God, did that ever feel wild. After a while, I was com­ing con­stantly, just one after the other.

	”After that, every guy I fucked seemed kind of tame. I mean, hell, who could match a re­cord like that? I don‘t know what happened to the guy, but I never ran into him again. Too bad—he was one guy I might have even con­sidered mar­ry­ing.

	”So with all the guys be­ing kind of dis­ap­point­ing, I needed a change. By then, I was get­ting so de­veloped and all that people thought I was old enough to go into bars. I wasn‘t too crazy about drink­ing, but it was a good place to meet new guys.

	”One night, though, I walked into a lez bar by ac­ci­dent. This wo­man, dressed all in men‘s clothes, walked up and asked me to dance. I had never thought about that kind of sex be­fore, so I said yes. She held me tight as could be, and it felt kind of funny hav­ing her tits press into mine. Funny, but good.

	”After the bar closed, she asked me if I wanted to go up to her place for a drink. Well, I didn‘t want a drink, but I did want to see what she had to of­fer as far as sex went. So I fol­lowed her to her place.

	”It was fixed up real nice, with pic­tures of na­ked girls all over the walls. Some of them were worse than any I had ever seen—the girls were sit­ting there with their legs wide open, so that you could see their clits and everything. But I wasn‘t em­bar­rassed none or any­thing like that. In fact, be­ing hon­est, I would have to say that see­ing all those na­ked bod­ies did kind of turn me on. I could feel my hot cave down between my legs start to twitch.

	”Jo, the girl, fixed both of us drinks, and I just sipped at mine, wait­ing for her to make a pass. She did, soon enough. She put her arm around me, and my head was rest­ing on her shoulder, when she star­ted to un­zip my dress and play with my tits.

	”It felt aw­ful nice, it al­ways does, no mat­ter who it is, and so I just lay back and re­laxed. I didn‘t know if she wanted me to do any­thing like that to her, but I figured that if she did, she would let me know. But she didn‘t—she got her kicks strictly from play­ing with girls.

	”She kept rub­bing my tits, nice and easy just the way I liked it. By then, I was na­ked as a jay­bird, and so was she. She had really huge tits, that she kind of tried to hide all the time. Shit, if she hadn‘t been such an ob­vi­ous dyke, I‘ll bet men would have been chas­ing her every minute of the day, just on ac­count of her big boobs.

	”She kissed my whole body, all up and down my front, pay­ing spe­cial at­ten­tion to my tits and crotch. Fi­nally, she sep­ar­ated my legs, and went to work on my pussy with her tongue. God, was that ever wild! I had never felt any­thing like it. I guess wo­men know just where to lick other wo­men and all, so it feels just great.

	”Her tongue wasn‘t quite enough to fill me up and make me come, though it felt ter­rific. I guess she got the mes­sage, be­cause she went in her closet, and came back with a dildo strapped around her waist. I had never seen one be­fore, so I just stared at it for a long time.

	”It was made of rub­ber, and looked real in a phony kind of way. It was shaped just like a prick, ex­cept in­stead of be­ing really prick-colored, it was kind of pink and white. You know how they make rub­ber dolls‘ faces that funny color that‘s sup­posed to be real? Well, that was what the prick looked like. The shape and size were fine, though. It was a little big­ger than most of the guys I‘d had, but who minds that?

	”When she jammed it into my hot, moist cav­ern, I couldn‘t have told you the dif­fer­ence. I guess she warmed it up for a while first, be­cause it felt good and hot, just like a ripe, ready cock does.

	”She knew how to use that thing, that‘s for sure. She rammed me good and hard, and then ro­tated her body around me for a while, mak­ing sure that her cock got into every nook and cranny of my cunt.

	”After a couple of minutes, I star­ted to come, and came about two more times while she was fuck­ing me. But when she came, it wasn‘t the same at all. She just kind of col­lapsed on me, without spurt­ing my cunt full of the hot, wet cream that I loved so much. But all the same, we had both got­ten our rocks off, so I shouldn‘t really com­plain.

	”When it was over, we talked for a while, be­cause she wanted to find out how she stacked up against a guy. She could tell I had never been screwed by a wo­man be­fore. I told her about miss­ing the jism when she came, and she just nod­ded. It seemed that‘s what all the girls say.

	”She told me about a neat kind of dildo that ac­tu­ally spurts, but she said that she couldn‘t af­ford one. And be­sides that, she wasn‘t sure just where she could get hold of one. It seemed they were kind of scarce.

	”It was get­ting kind of late, so I kissed her good­night, and prom­ised I would go and visit her about two weeks later. I did, and it was still a lot of fun. But I just couldn‘t get rid of miss­ing the spurt­ing.

	”The next time I got fucked by a man was kind of cool. I ran into a set of groovy look­ing twins. I just couldn‘t wait for one of them to get into my pants—shit, I was get­ting all wet­ted down just look­ing at them. And I could tell from look­ing at the rise in their pants that they both wanted to fuck me.

	”The thing was, they al­ways did everything, and I mean everything to­gether. So I sug­ges­ted an­other girl, and they looked around but just saw a bunch of whores, and they didn‘t want a pro.

	”It had been al­most a week since my last fuck, and I wanted a prick hos­ing me down real bad. So I agreed to go to their room with them, and sat­isfy both of them. I never real­ized just how much fun some­thing like that could be!

	”We all un­dressed each other, run­ning our hands all over each oth­ers‘ bod­ies as much as we could. It was kind of fun see­ing if their bod­ies were as alike as their faces. They were both well hung, that‘s for sure.

	”They were hard, and I was all wet and soft, so none of us bothered with the usual pre­lim­in­ary crap. Dick climbed on, and got his prick good and bur­ied in my cave. As soon as we had that go­ing real good, Rick stood over me and put his prick in my mouth. I sucked on it while I was mov­ing my hips to meet Dick‘s cock and get it in as far as it would go. It was kind of funny, keep­ing both of them happy at once.

	”They came at the same time, too, so my mouth and my cunt were both over­flow­ing with their sweet cow‘s cream. I loved every bit of it!

	”For the next round we got down on the floor and had a little daisy chain. Rick sucked and licked my cunt and my ass while I was suck­ing off Dick. Mean­while Dick worked on my tits, keep­ing them firm as dirt clods. That was fun too, and I really got a bang out of hav­ing a tongue around my ass.

	”Next, Dick worked his prick into my ass while I was on top of Rick who was work­ing like a stud bull at get­ting his prick in­side my cunt. God, was that ever a groove. I kept on mov­ing fast so that I could feel every little bit of the ac­tion both front and back. I never knew a girl could come in her ass but I‘m sure I did. And it‘s every bit as good as a cunt come—in a dif­fer­ent way, of course.

	”Well, to make a long story short, each of us fucked out our guts and fi­nally we had to stop. I kissed them both on their cocks and on their mouths and then went on back home. I figured I‘d just go right to bed and get a good night‘s sleep, but little did I know what was wait­ing for me.

	”I got to the kit­chen door and saw that my Mom must have left the light on for me. The door wasn‘t locked since nobody in the coun­try uses locks so I opened the door as softly as I could and crept into the room. Then, just as I was about to flick off the light and go to bed who walked in but Pappy.

	”Shit, I al­most jumped a mile from the scare he gave me! I saw right away that he had been drink­ing and it looked like he had been wait­ing up for me. He told me that my Mom had gone off to stay with some sick wo­man at the next farm, and it was just him and me in the house. He sort of licked his lips when he said that.

	”Well, I was tired and wanted to go to bed so I walked past him and said good­night. Then his arm shot out like a whip and pulled me back.

	” ‚Not so fast, missy. I‘ve been waitin‘ for you.‘ ”I looked into his eyes and I re­cog­nized right away what I saw there. I had seen it in every guy‘s eyes just be­fore they fucked me. Then my heart star­ted to pound a little from the sheer ex­cite­ment of the thing. Sex with my father! What would it be like? ” ‚Don‘t play so hard to get, missy. I know you‘ve been fuckin‘ every stud in this county. You‘re like one of them heifers that just can‘t seem to get enough of good hot cock­meat, ain‘t that right?‘ ”Well, there was no deny­ing that. He had me dead to rights and he knew it. I knew in a flash that I was as eager for his cock as I had been for any other guy‘s cock—even my brother‘s. And be­fore I even had time to de­cide whether I really was too tired to fuck the de­cision was made for me.

	”Pappy whipped that horse-cock of his out of his pants and star­ted press­ing me right up against the drain board of the sink. Then he pulled one of my hands down and wrapped it around his hard, hot length. Wow! It was so hot it al­most burned my hand!

	”I‘m not even sure what all happened in the next few minutes. Both of us were mov­ing fast and clothes were fly­ing every way. Then he moved me back against the kit­chen table and hois­ted me up a little so that my ass was sit­ting right on the edge. I spread my legs for him and he pushed for­ward, shov­ing the hot, blunt end of his prick right up to my snatch.

	”We both worked to­gether for a couple of seconds un­til he got his prick head right smack against my hole, and then he shoved in as hard as he could. He star­ted plow­ing my cunt like the tractor plows the fields, and his hot meat slid back and forth in my juicy cunt without le­tup.

	”Back and forth he worked, push­ing in and out, in and out, un­til I thought that he was go­ing to push right through the back wall of my cunt and come out my ass!

	”I grabbed him around his waist and tried to pull him in even farther, but it was no use. His bull strength already had him in as far as he could go, and con­sid­er­ing the length of that cock of his it was pretty far!

	”Then I star­ted rak­ing my nails up and down along his back in an ef­fort to drain out through my hands some of the in­cred­ible pres­sure that was build­ing up in­side me. And the sharp bite of my nails really got to him and he star­ted hump­ing like some­thing crazed!

	”Pretty soon the both of us were huff­ing and puff­ing like a steam en­gine, and every now and then I couldn‘t help my­self and let out a squeal. He star­ted grunt­ing then with every push of his mighty cock and be­fore long the two of us were ra­cing to­gether for a come.

	”Faster and faster he went un­til fi­nally he gave one great shove and al­most fell on top of me. The top went off my head right at that in­stant and I was half-aware of my own come and half-aware of the gal­lon of seed that he was plant­ing in­side me.

	”Wow! Fuck­ing with Pappy was really fuck­ing, and he liked what I had given him too. We made a bar­gain right then and there, lay­ing to­gether on top of the kit­chen table. He wanted to fuck me whenever and wherever he wanted to, and I could keep up my other fuck­ing on the side.

	”And we‘ve both kept our ends of the bar­gain. Pappy has fucked me in the corn­field, in the hayloft, in the pen be­hind the pigs, on top of the tractor and even on the way to the grain store.

	”Of course we do it when my Mom isn‘t around. After all, he doesn‘t want to make her jeal­ous and lose a good lay with her. Of course I still man­age to fuck and suck half the coun­try, but I‘ve got to ad­mit one thing. I al­ways look for­ward to Pappy‘s stick­ing his prong in­side me.

	I don‘t really know why he‘s so spe­cial to me, but he is. Maybe be­cause I know that he loves me more than any­body else. And that makes it right, if you know what I mean. He al­ways works hard to make sure I get a good come, which isn‘t too dif­fi­cult, con­sid­er­ing how good a fucker he is.

	”Of course I feel a little sorry for my Mom. After all, each time he fucks me is one less time for her, and she digs screw­ing too. I used to lay awake at night listen­ing to their hump­ing, and just listen­ing made me hot and juicy.

	”I used to won­der what his cock was like, re­mem­ber­ing that in a way I poured out of there once. And now he‘s pour­ing into me. That must be really great when you can make your own cunt to fuck!“


CHAPTER FIVE

	Some­times quant­ity plays an im­port­ant part in in­ces­tu­ous activ­ity. The very fact that there may be a large num­ber in a fam­ily presents pos­sib­il­it­ies that might not ex­ist oth­er­wise. The close­ness that ex­ists between mem­bers of a large fam­ily helps to break down much of the re­serve that might be present when each mem­ber has a greater share of pri­vacy. De­pend­ing on the situ­ation and the en­vir­on­ment the chil­dren of a large fam­ily might find them­selves us­ing each other in their ex­plor­a­tions of sex. Whether such activ­ity in­cludes either or both par­ents de­pends, of course, on the at­ti­tudes and fiber of the adult.


CASE HIS­TORY—IN­TER­VIEW

	In­ter­viewer: Sandy, it would be a good idea if we star­ted by get­ting some kind of pic­ture about your fam­ily and your par­ents. You come from a large fam­ily, we un­der­stand.

	Sandy: If you want to call a mob of scream­ing idi­ots a fam­ily, I guess you can.

	In­ter­viewer: What would you call it?

	Sandy: Per­son­ally I‘d call it a zoo! One big fuck­ing zoo! In­ter­viewer: We‘ll get to that part in a minute. What does your father do? Sandy: You mean when he screws me?

	In­ter­viewer: No, Sandy, we mean for a liv­ing.

	Sandy: Oh, that. Well, to tell you the truth he doesn‘t do much of any­thing. He works from time to time, some­times help­ing out down on the docks and some­times help­ing out do­ing odd jobs for people around town. My Mom, she works more reg­u­lar.

	In­ter­viewer: What does she do?

	Sandy: Takes in laun­dry, mostly, and does some babysit­tin‘ on the side. ‚Course she don‘t make too much money doin‘ shit like that. She‘d make a hel­luva lot more walk­ing the streets.

	In­ter­viewer: What kind of place do you live in? Sandy: Boy, I‘m sure glad you didn‘t say ”home.“ I would have laughed right in your face! The place we live in is a dump! It‘s a beat-up old shack of a place down near the wa­ter­front. There‘s two rooms down­stairs, the sit­tin‘ room and the kit­chen, and then there‘s Ma and Pa‘s room and the bath­room and the room for us kids up­stairs.

	In­ter­viewer: Your broth­ers and sis­ters all share the same room, then? Sandy: Shit, yeah! We share the same room and the same beds and pretty soon we star­ted sharin‘ each other.

	In­ter­viewer: How do you mean?

	Sandy: Sex, man! Fuckin‘ and suckin‘; tak­ing it up the as­shole! In­ter­viewer: How old are you, Sandy?

	Sandy: Sev­en­teen. How old are you?

	In­ter­viewer: Never mind. How about your broth­ers and sis­ters? Sandy: I got three broth­ers, el­even, six­teen and eight­een. Then I got two sis­ters, four­teen and fif­teen.

	In­ter­viewer: You say, Sandy, that you and your broth­ers and sis­ters have sex to­gether. How did this get star­ted?

	Sandy: It was easy. We got two beds in our room, and three of us sleep on each one. It doesn‘t mat­ter which three. What‘s the sense in keep­ing the boys and the girls apart in bed when we see each other prac­tic­ally na­ked all the time and com­pletely na­ked some of the time. And Pa‘s room is right next to ours and we could hear all that humpin‘ night after night and the bed springs creakin‘ and pretty soon we de­cided that we might as well have some fun too.

	The first time was with my older brother Fred. He was sev­en­teen at the time and I was six­teen. We were layin‘ in bed one night with Pearl, my little sis­ter, when that humpin‘ star­ted again. I wasn‘t too sure what was goin‘ on and Fred set me straight. I star­ted boun­cin‘ up and down in the bed to make it creak and he told me that I was bein‘ silly and that wasn‘t how it was done at all.

	In­ter­viewer: What happened then?

	Sandy: Well, Fred‘s such a wise ass and al­ways acts like he knows everything. So I told him that if he was so smart he could show me what was goin‘ on. And he did.

	In­ter­viewer: You mean he had in­ter­course with you? Sandy: No, I mean he fucked me! He rolled over on top of me and told me to spread me legs. Then he got between them and I felt his hard stick press­ing down on my snatch. I guess maybe I knew what was com­ing and I wanted it to hap­pen. I just let him press his prick right down into me and shoot his load.

	In­ter­viewer: Weren‘t you afraid of get­ting preg­nant? Sandy: I was after a while, but Fred took care of that. He knew some­body who could get pills real cheap and I star­ted takin‘ them. And it‘s a good thing, too, ‚cause we really star­ted fuckin‘ after that. Even my six­teen-year-old brother Sam got his cock into me. He had just star­ted bein‘ able to come, you know, and he thought it was the wild­est thing ever! Some nights the three of us would get to­gether and one would do it to me and then the other one. And pretty soon we were tryin‘ other things too. Fred wanted me to suck him off and I did. I really liked that! So some nights I‘d just suck them off, and other nights we fucked. We were doin‘ some-thin‘ every night.

	Then the oth­ers got into it too. Pearl and Zelda had their cher­ries copped the same night. Fred did it to both of them, since he had the biggest prong. Then Sam moved in and hosed them too. Pretty soon hardly a night would go by that we weren‘t all fuckin‘ and suckin‘. All ex­cept little Maurice, that is. There wasn‘t any­thing he could do, al­though some­times he licked my cunt out just for kicks. I don‘t think it did too much for him, though.

	In­ter­viewer: And you say that this went on every night? Sandy: Sure, every night. And after a while it wasn‘t just at night. Some­times Fred and I would go at it when we were home dur­ing the day. If Pa and Ma were both out and we were both home, there wasn‘t much else to do. And be­sides, I was really start­ing to dig it.

	Fred‘s cock was and still is a right good size. He liked for me to start by lick­ing it up and down and get­ting it real good and hard. Some­times he‘d want me to keep right on un­til I sucked his juice right out of his tubes. Then I‘d have to start in again to get him hard enough to fuck me.

	Other times he‘d just roll right over on top of me and start chewin‘ on my tits like they were some kind of gum drop. He‘d chew and gnaw un­til he had my boobs raw as a piece of meat. Then he‘d move down to my snatch and chew me out there.

	He liked to stick his tongue right up into my hole and suck at the same time. And can he ever suck! Some­times I thought he was goin‘ to suck my snatch right into his mouth! But he wouldn‘t. He‘d al­ways stop just when I thought I‘d be goin‘ out of my mind and then he‘d get up on top of me and stick it in.

	I don‘t think I ever got tired of feelin‘ Fred‘s cock up my snatch. It was hot and hard and it had this little curve so that it filled my cunt right up to the brim. And he had these big balls, too. I liked to play with them, you know, squeezin‘ them and rub­bin‘ them around. I squeezed them real hard once but Fred slapped me and I got the mes­sage.

	In­ter­viewer: You say that the oth­ers, ex­cept for your young­est brother, all par­ti­cip­ated? Sandy: Sure. Each one got onto a dif­fer­ent kick, you know. Like Zelda. She‘s a real kook. She liked to lick Sam‘s as­shole. I don‘t know what she found so spe­cial about his as­shole, but she really liked to dive in there and lick her way around.

	Some­times, when Sam would have his hot dork up my twat, Zelda would sneak up between his legs and press into his as­shole. Then she would start lick­ing and suck­ing on Sam‘s ass while he‘d be stick­ing me with his rod. Then after he‘d fucked me or one of the -other girls Zelda would have him lay on his stom­ach while she really sucked his ass. And I know that Sam dug it be­cause he‘d be hard again in no time!

	Pearl liked to suck cock. And after a while she‘d let Sam or Fred fuck her only if she could suck their cocks af­ter­ward. She wanted to do it af­ter­ward ‚cause then they‘d take longer to come and she‘d have more time to work on their meat.

	I don‘t know what I liked best. I guess I liked plain fuck­ing the best. And it worked out real swell hav­ing both Fred and Sam, ‚cause some­times one of them would come be­fore I would. Then the other one could jump on and start in again and by then I‘d build up to a nice creamy come.

	In­ter­viewer: You men­tioned earlier that your father had had in­ter­course with you? Sandy: Yeah, he fucked me sev­eral times.

	In­ter­viewer: How did that come about? Sandy: In the usual way. He stuck his dick into my …

	In­ter­viewer: What I meant was how did the cir­cum­stances first arise? Sandy: Oh. Well, I guess maybe he had heard a lot of what we were do­ing through the walls. After all, some of our fuckin‘ ses­sions went on late into the night, and Pa must have quit way be­fore us. And also he found the pills un­der­neath my pil­low and he knew that I was on them. He didn‘t know about the oth­ers.

	In­ter­viewer: You mean Pearl and Zelda? Sandy: Yeah. He would have really flipped over that. He would have prob­ably wanted to fuck them in­stead of me. After all, their cunts were a lot smal­ler, and he had had noth­ing more than Ma‘s big gash for years. At least I sup­pose he hadn‘t.

	Any­way, he came home one af­ter­noon when I was there all alone. I had been wait­ing for Fred to come home for some of our good fuckin‘ but he was off some where‘s. In­stead who comes in but Pa, half drunk as usual. I was up in my room readin‘ a magazine and he came stompin‘ up the stairs.

	Then he stood at the door of our room and watched me readin‘ the magazine. ”What you wastin‘ your time lookin‘ at those pitch­ers for,“ he mumbled. ”Ain‘t no good lookin‘ at pitch­ers. A lot bet­ter to be doin‘ than lookin‘. But then I guess you been doin‘ enough doin‘, huh?“

	I knew what he was get­tin‘ at, but I wasn‘t about to let on. I just kept on readin‘ the magazine. Then he stomped over and jerked it out of my hands and just stood there lookin‘ down at me. He made me a little afraid when he ac­ted like that ‚cause I didn‘t know what he might do next.

	Then he star­ted rub­bing his hand around his crotch and I could see that he was get­tin‘ hard un­der his pants. Shit! Was he ever hung! I bet he had more meat on him than Fred and Sam put to­gether! And I found out soon enough.

	He un­zipped his old pants and pulled that cock right out and waved it in my face. ”How‘s about a taste of this girly,“ he said. And he moved closer un­til that prick of his was about an inch from my lips. Well, I have to ad­mit the truth. I just looked at that hunk of salami and de­cided that I really did want a taste, so I just opened my mouth and he slid it in.

	I sucked on it for quite a while, sa­vor­ing the fla­vor of a real man‘s prick, and then he star­ted fuck­ing my face. He moved his hips back and forth and shoved his prick in and out of my face just like it was a cunt. Then he must have felt his come on the way ‚cause he pulled back and dropped his pants. I got the pic­ture and took my clothes off. Then he was on top of me, spear­ing me with his rod. He fucked me for a minute or two and then filled my cunt with his cream.

	In­ter­viewer: And he did it again later?

	Sandy: Shit yes! He star­ted fuckin‘ me reg­u­lar after that. I‘d get a screw from him dur­ing the day and then from Sam and Fred at night. Of course I never told Sam or Fred what was go­ing on be­hind their backs. After all, no sense hav­ing trouble in the fam­ily.


CHAPTER SIX

	In Chapter One we briefly dis­cussed the re­volu­tion that is sweep­ing through our so­ci­ety and the break­ing down of the con­ven­tional build­ing blocks. The dis­turb­ances and un­rest are due in large meas­ure, as we said, to the over­all re­jec­tion of the es­tab­lish­ment, and of what es­tab­lish­ment stands for.

	Much of this stems from the fact that the re­volu­tion­ar­ies are hold­ing the es­tab­lish­ment up to the light of truth and are find­ing great shades of hy­po­crisy. In other words, the young people of today are not only ques­tion­ing the old or­der of things, but they are also find­ing through ob­serv­ance that what the adults preach is not al­ways in fact what they prac­tice.

	The sexual re­volu­tion per­haps more than any other re­volu­tion today provides the greatest fuel for the fire. What are the young people of today com­ing to, adults ask. But any ma­jor met­ro­pol­itan news­pa­per car­ries more than enough stor­ies con­cern­ing the sexual es­capades of adults to prove that per­haps the young people who are act­ing up, as it were, are only fol­low­ing the lead of their eld­ers.

	More and more today we hear of in­stances of adult wife swap­ping, not simply on an isol­ated level, but on a grand, or­gan­ized scale. Many com­munit­ies now have known wife-swap­ping clubs which provide mem­bers with sched­uled meet­ings in fa­cil­it­ies that are set aside for the pur­pose.

	And oddly enough, it seems that just about every form of vari­ant sexual be­ha­vior goes hand in glove with the oth­ers. In other words, a per­son who might par­ti­cip­ate in a wife-swap­ping group is prob­ably free-think­ing and un­in­hib­ited enough to in­dulge in or­al­ism, an­al­ism, les­bi­an­ism or ho­mo­sexu­al­ity, and even in­cest.

	Need­less to say we couldn‘t of­fer this ob­ser­va­tion as a sweep­ing gen­er­al­ity, but based on re­ports, stud­ies and the like, it does ap­pear to have some basis.

	Ruth and Ed­ward Brecher, writ­ing in their book An Ana­lysis of Hu­man Sexual Re­sponse, point out that there is a greater tend­ency now for adults and younger people to ac­tu­ally par­ti­cip­ate to­gether in sexual games, rather than each go­ing their own way. Per­haps this is our mod­ern day equi­val­ent of bridging the gen­er­a­tion gap.

	In any event, we think it likely that the join­ing of forces might oc­cur more nat­ur­ally when there is also a pre­dis­pos­i­tion to the join­ing of two vari­ant forms of sexual be­ha­vior.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Frank M. Was forty-six years old. He had been mar­ried to his wife Marie for twenty-three years. They con­sidered theirs a happy mar­riage, as mar­riages go, and they lived a com­fort­able life on Frank‘s in­come as a swim­ming pool sales­man. They had had one child, a daugh­ter, who was now mar­ried her­self.

	Jan­ine had been the de­light of their lives all the time she was grow­ing, but now that she was twenty-three and off liv­ing her own life, Frank and his wife began to feel an empti­ness about them. At first they as­sumed that it was simply the ad­just­ment ne­ces­sary for no longer hav­ing their daugh­ter in the house, but soon it be­came ob­vi­ous that there was some­thing more.

	Frank and Marie had al­ways en­joyed sex to­gether, and they fre­quently tried new and in­ter­est­ing vari­ations. Marie was less in­ter­ested than Frank was, but she knew how much it mattered to him and she went along with his ideas to keep him happy.

	Frank had in­tro­duced his wife to oral sex and an­al­ism, and while she never could quite get used to tak­ing his cock up her ass, she did learn to ap­pre­ci­ate suck­ing his prick. She didn‘t swal­low his come as a rule, and this an­noyed him some­times. After all, he figured, if a wo­man really loves a man, she should be will­ing to take that part of him in­side her.

	He en­joyed eat­ing her box, and some­times spent long minutes nuzz­ling her slit and nib­bling on her clit. He liked to poke his tongue into her cunt hole and work it around and around. Then he liked to fuck for a good long time, work­ing him­self up to a come and then slow­ing down un­til the pres­sure sub­sided, and then start­ing in again.

	But some­thing had happened to their sex life. Frank felt that no mat­ter how much he tried to vary it, it was al­ways still the same. And yet he wasn‘t about to give up. He was still as po­tent as a young stud, and he wanted his sex hard and hot.

	Then one day he had oc­ca­sion to stop by to visit one of his pre­vi­ous cli­ents, to see if they were happy with their pool, and he stumbled onto quite an un­usual party in pro­gress. There were about six couples sprawled around the pool deck, and no one seemed too in­ter­ested in swim­ming. In­stead, it seemed as if they were siz­ing each other up, and from snatches of the con­ver­sa­tion he figured that he had guessed right.

	Later on, as the owner of the house was es­cort­ing Frank back to his car, he let the cat out of the bag and Frank listened spell­bound as the man told him about the wife-swap­ping club. The couples joined around the pool and picked their part­ners for the night. Then they went off to dif­fer­ent rooms in the house and fucked like mad!

	Some­times the parties went on all week­end, de­pend­ing on how act­ive the group wanted to be. There was no money in­volved and every­one brought his own li­quor.

	The man told Frank that the whole pur­pose be­hind the swap­ping was to bring as much vari­ety to fuck­ing as pos­sible. After all, vari­ety was the spice of life, and lots of people needed that spice.

	Frank gave con­sid­er­able thought to what he had seen and heard and de­cided to see what Marie thought of it. He ex­pec­ted that she would be against it at first, and she was. She just couldn‘t un­der­stand how all those people could see noth­ing wrong in be­ing un­faith­ful.

	Her hus­band tried to ex­plain that just swap­ping didn‘t mean that the per­son was be­ing un­faith­ful. After all, both part­ners were present, and it wasn‘t as if some­thing was be­ing done be­hind the other‘s back.

	He let the mat­ter drop then, but men­tioned it again from time to time. Fi­nally Marie de­cided to give it a try. Whether or not she ac­tu­ally wanted to try it, or whether she was will­ing to do it for Frank, he didn‘t know. But some­how he figured that as soon as she got a taste of some of those fresh young guys that he had seen she would be glad they joined.

	Frank called the man back and all the ar­range­ments were made. The next party was sched­uled for the fol­low­ing Sat­urday even­ing. It was to be a moon­light swim­ming party with fun and games af­ter­ward. And Frank could hardly wait.

	The moon had already risen by the time Frank and Marie ar­rived, and the party was in full swing. The un­der­wa­ter pool light was on and it cast shim­mer­ing blue pat­terns over the swim­mers as they moved through the wa­ter. A port­able bar had been set up on the patio and every­body was serving them­selves.

	Frank and Marie were warmly wel­comed by every­body, with the men pay­ing par­tic­u­lar at­ten­tion to Marie and the wo­men to Frank. The age range ap­peared to be pretty wide, and Frank no­ticed some girls who looked like they might be in their early twen­ties. He felt his cock start to swell at the thought of hav­ing one of those girls for the night.

	He watched Marie out of the corner of his eye, and he thought he saw quite a bit of in­terest build­ing up in his wife. She was chat­ting with one of the young men who had in­tro­duced him­self to her and they looked like they could hit it off in bed very eas­ily.

	Frank and Marie split up at that point, each meet­ing new people and drink­ing with them. And every girl Frank met made his prick get harder. If this went on much longer, he thought, he would just shoot off right in his pants!

	Then he heard the door­bell ring, and the host went into the house to ad­mit the new ar­rivals. At that point Frank‘s at­ten­tion was drawn to one of the girls in the pool, and it wasn‘t un­til sev­eral minutes later that he looked up across the pool and stared at his daugh­ter and her hus­band.

	At first he felt em­bar­rassed at be­ing caught here by them, but then he figured what the hell. They were here too! Marie was at the other end of the garden, and Frank knew that she couldn‘t see who the new people were. Then Jan­ine and her hus­band split up and she walked over to her father.

	”Hi, Dad,“ she said in her most mat­ter-of-fact voice. ”Haven‘t seen you here be­fore.“

	”This is my ... our first time,“ he mumbled, sud­denly aware of the full, roun­ded tits on his daugh­ter. He wanted to glance down at her crotch to see if her pussy pouted against her swim­suit, but he held his eyes in check. Jan­ine laughed and they sat down on the pool deck to­gether.

	They talked for a few minutes, and Jan­ine told her father how she had wanted her hus­band to try dif­fer­ent ways of fuck­ing with her but he seemed to be shy and hes­it­ant about it. Then she talked him into join­ing the club and he‘d been bet­ter ever since.

	Then the host an­nounced that it was time to start the activ­ity in­side, and for that night they were go­ing to try some­thing dif­fer­ent. Each of the girls was to go in­side the house first and find a room. Then when they were settled, the men were to go in and pick a room. All of the lights would be out so it was go­ing to be pot luck.

	Jan­ine got up and went in­side with the other wo­man and Marie went in a minute later. She still hadn‘t seen her daugh­ter or her son-in-law. Then, after a few minutes, all of the lights in the house went out and that was the cue for the men to go in and claim their wo­man for the night.

	The men stumbled against each other as they tried to make their way through the house. It was par­tic­u­larly dif­fi­cult for Frank, since he was un­fa­mil­iar with the house and didn‘t really know which way to turn. But fi­nally he felt an open door­way and cau­tiously went in.

	The room was one of the guest bed­rooms, as far as Frank could make out, and by the dim shaft of light com­ing in the win­dow he could make out the na­ked body of a girl sprawled on the bed. He knew what to do from there on.

	He got out of his clothes in less than a minute and walked over to the bed. The girl held her arms up to him and he let her draw him down be­side her. Already he could feel the hot­ness of her body, and his cock rose up again as if on com­mand.

	Then, as he pressed his face against the girl‘s and kissed her hotly, a sud­den shock went through him. He knew who this girl was. It was his daugh­ter!

	He jerked away sud­denly, aware that he al­most had fucked his own daugh­ter. But then Jan­ine pulled him back. ”Don‘t stop, Dad,“ she whispered, ”I want you to do it.“

	With that she star­ted to mas­sage her father‘s prick, let­ting her fin­gers run back and forth along the pil­lar of hot flesh, and squeez­ing the en­gorged head of it. Frank knew then that he wanted to do it too, and he lowered his head once again and kissed his daugh­ter, this time for­cing his tongue between her lips and press­ing hard.

	His head began to swim with thoughts of Jan­ine as she was grow­ing up, and he re­membered how he had felt when he had seen her blos­som­ing tits, and had watched her cute ass twitch from side to side as she walked. And the more he thought the harder his cock be­came, un­til fi­nally he ached to sink it deep into her cunt.

	He star­ted to move to get between her legs, but Jan­ine sensed what he was go­ing to do and stopped him. ”Don‘t Dad, not yet. There‘s some­thing else I want first.“

	Jan­ine told her father to straddle her chest and work his cock up to her mouth. Then, while she lay on her back, she took his thick prick in her mouth and began to suck it. She worked her tongue fe­ver­ishly across the head, whip­ping fren­zied life into it. Then she star­ted to slide up and down on its length, and Frank helped his daugh­ter by push­ing and shov­ing with his hips.

	She reached around and cupped his balls which were banging against her chin and she began to mas­sage them. She worked on his balls and his prick at the same time, and then lowered her hand to caress the soft spot right un­der his balls.

	Frank was cer­tain that he was go­ing out of his mind. He had never known this kind of ec­stasy, and as he felt the weight in­side him start to build, he wondered if she would swal­low his come. His prick throbbed and yearned to re­lease its load and he star­ted to fuck her face even faster.

	He glanced down at his daugh­ter‘s face and watched her eyes as they rolled spas­mod­ic­ally. Then he reached be­hind him and dipped his hand in her twat. She was hot and juicy already, just from suck­ing on his cock. He wondered then if she could come just from a blow­job.

	But be­fore he had time to give it any more thought his prick ex­ploded in her mouth, shoot­ing bolt after bolt of creamy come down her throat. Jan­ine swal­lowed re­peatedly, and still the cream spur­ted. Fi­nally she had to turn her head a little to the side in or­der to swal­low the rest of his gi­ant load.

	Then, after it was all over and his cock stopped its throb­bing and heav­ing, Jan­ine let it plop out of her mouth and took it in her hands. Very care­fully she pulled along its length, work­ing every last drop of her father‘s seed out of his or­gan. And each little glob of come that ap­peared at the tip of his prick she licked away, sa­vor­ing it slowly.

	”Now Dad,“ she said, ”eat me out.“

	Frank needed no more en­cour­age­ment and snuggled down between her legs. Then he dug into her snatch like it was a box lunch, nib­bling and suck­ing and fi­nally bring­ing her to a gush­ing come. Then he felt like he was ready to go again and he got into po­s­i­tion to fuck her. His cock slid eas­ily into her hole and he fucked her like he had never fucked a girl be­fore in his life.

	They fucked around in this way un­til dawn and then they de­cided that maybe their bod­ies had had enough for one night. Frank had come six times and Jan­ine four. Then as they were dress­ing they worked out a sched­ule for Frank to visit Jan­ine whenever her hus­band was away at work.

	Frank left Jan­ine‘s room be­fore any­one else was up. He didn‘t want to run the risk of Marie‘s find­ing out who his part­ner had been. After all, Frank reasoned, he had wanted the spice of vari­ety and now he really had it. He had Marie, the swap­ping club and Jan­ine. Any more spice and he would have been pickled!


CHAPTER SEVEN

	The ma­jor­ity of in­ces­tu­ous re­la­tions oc­cur between fath­ers and daugh­ters. To un­der­stand why, we must ex­am­ine the re­la­tion­ship between the two closely.

	The father is the first male that a baby girl comes in con­tact with. From him she bases her whole concept of what men should be like. If the two have a good, but not pos­sess­ive re­la­tion­ship, the girl will grow up able to form strong at­tach­ments to other men. How­ever, if the re­la­tion­ship is too close the girl may grow up com­par­ing every man she meets to her father and find all the other men lack­ing.

	It is con­sidered nor­mal for a young girl to find her father sexu­ally stim­u­lat­ing. Young girls are of­ten heard say­ing that when they grow up they will marry their fath­ers. In time, the girl should be­gin to identify more with her mother and be­gin to draw away from her father. If she stays at the level of ma­tur­ity which de­mands that she want her father for a hus­band or lover the situ­ation can be ripe for in­cest.

	If the father has a good re­la­tion­ship with his wife there is little chance for an in­ces­tu­ous situ­ation to de­velop. But when a man is sexu­ally de­prived and has a se­duct­ive young girl around for com­fort he may, and some­times does, take ad­vant­age of the situ­ation.

	CASE HIS­TORY

	Paul R. Had been hav­ing in­ter­course reg­u­larly with Helen, his daugh­ter, for three years. At the time their af­fair began Paul was thirty-seven and Helen fif­teen.

	Paul had mar­ried early. He had met Mon­ica in high school and they had gone steady for two years be­fore they mar­ried. Paul‘s first re­ac­tion to Mon­ica was that she was the sex­i­est girl he had ever seen. He wanted to date her very badly and suc­ceeded.

	After a few dates and short good­night kisses, Paul learned that Mon­ica con­sidered her­self a nice girl and that sex was out of the ques­tion. When they were be­gin­ning to get ser­i­ous Mon­ica would per­mit mild pet­ting and let Paul see the lovely orbs of her breasts once in a while. Think­ing that things would be dif­fer­ent after they were mar­ried, Paul was sat­is­fied.

	On their wed­ding night Paul made every pos­sible ef­fort to arouse his bride. He kissed her long and pas­sion­ately, run­ning his tongue in and out of her soft lips. His hands roamed all over her body, caress­ing her melon-shaped breasts un­til her nipples stood out proud and wide.

	He sucked on her tits un­til his mouth was aching and his prick throbbed with pain and pleas­ure. In spite of all this Mon­ica lay back on the bed stiffly. She couldn‘t give in to the pas­sions that should have been flood­ing her soft body with de­sire.

	”Paul, I‘m sorry, I can‘t help it. Just take me and get it over with. I don‘t mind, really I don‘t. I want to be a good wife to you.“

	”Darling, just re­lax. I want you to en­joy it, to want it just as much as I do.“

	”You know wo­men don‘t en­joy things like this. So please get it over with.“ Paul‘s prick was hard and throb­bing. He fingered Mon­ica‘s cunt and found that it was soft and warm and sweet. He didn‘t want to hurt her but the agony was be­com­ing too much. He climbed on top of her and slowly in­ser­ted his cock into her pussy. She let out a scream as he plunged it all the way in, un­able to stop him­self. It felt so good, so warm and soft that he just couldn‘t wait to get it all in­side her.

	As he began to move his prick slowly up and down on her tight quim he felt her en­tire body tense up in res­ist­ance. His mind wanted to stop but his body sped him on, mak­ing him move harder and faster. Giv­ing thought to noth­ing but the pleas­ure that was com­ing from his cock bur­ied in her hot snatch he drove his cock in and out of her as hard and fast as he could. He wanted the re­lease that would come.

	Mon­ica re­mained still, won­der­ing just how any­one could en­joy what Paul was do­ing to her. She felt vi­ol­ated, as though her body didn‘t be­long to her but to a sav­age beast who took it force­fully. After only a few minutes he came, flood­ing her cunt with a rush of hot cream. Mon­ica lay back and re­laxed, re­lieved that it was over.

	”Honey, be­lieve me,“ Paul said, ”It will get bet­ter. Don‘t worry about a thing—soon you‘ll want it just as much as I do.“

	Mon­ica gave a sleepy nod and fell asleep, know­ing that it wouldn‘t get bet­ter and that she would have to put up with it for the rest of her life.

	Al­though Paul worked hard, he could never man­age to get Mon­ica ex­cited. No mat­ter how long he played with her clit and rubbed her breasts it was the same thing over and over again. After sev­eral years of mar­riage he fi­nally stopped try­ing. Sex be­came an in­fre­quent oc­cur­rence. When he did fuck her, he didn‘t even bother with any kind of fore­play. He used her body like an an­imal. Rather than be­ing up­set by this, Mon­ica was glad. She wanted to do her wifely duty but was just as glad that he got it over with in a hurry.

	Paul saw at­tract­ive girls at work and of­ten thought about start­ing an af­fair. But some­thing al­ways held him back. The girls knew that he was mar­ried and didn‘t en­cour­age him so that was the end of it.

	When Helen was born, Paul felt as though he could some­how start all over again. His daugh­ter looked like his wife in a softer ver­sion. He was crazy about his daugh­ter and took her every­where he could. At first, Mon­ica tried to keep Paul from spoil­ing the little girl.

	”Look, you can‘t give her every blessed thing she asks for. It‘s not good for her. When she grows up she‘s go­ing to find out that Daddy isn‘t al­ways go­ing to be around. She‘ll have to deal with other people and you aren‘t help­ing a bit.“

	”Who the hell are you to talk? Do you think the way you were brought up was so fuck­ing per­fect? Hell, you‘re so damned repressed and fri­gid that I some­times won­der just how you ever got preg­nant.“

	”Don‘t I let you climb on top of me every damned time you ask me too? What more do you want?“

	”Sure, and it‘s great fun. You lay there and close your eyes till it‘s all over and then give a sigh of re­lief. You don‘t have any idea what sex means or what pleas­ure means. I don‘t want my daugh­ter turn­ing out like you.“

	”What do you want her to do? Turn into a little tramp who chases every man in pants? Is that what you want?“

	”You lay off me, you hear? So what if I have fun with Helen? I sure don‘t get any from you.“

	Mon­ica wanted to fight back but found that she couldn‘t. She knew that she wasn‘t sat­is­fy­ing her hus­band and felt guilty about it. She fi­nally de­cided it was bet­ter that Paul got pleas­ure from his child than from an­other wo­man.

	As the years passed, the house seemed more like an armed camp than a fam­ily. All the fight­ing had dis­solved into an un­easy truce. Paul and Mon­ica were po­lite to each other but that was all. Sex had gone com­pletely out of their lives.

	The only joy Paul got was from Helen, who was grow­ing more beau­ti­ful each day. By the time she was fif­teen Helen‘s body was that of a ma­ture wo­man. Her breasts were large and well shaped, jut­ting out with the up­ward firm­ness of her youth. She was at her full height and her legs were long and shapely. Pimply faced boys her own age asked her for dates but she al­ways re­fused.

	For as long as she could re­mem­ber Helen had been pas­sion­ately in love with her father. He was her ab­so­lute ideal and she wouldn‘t settle for any­thing less. She first dis­covered the well of pas­sion within her body when Paul ex­plained sex to her. She was about thir­teen at that time and her mother wouldn‘t an­swer any of her ques­tions.

	As Paul ex­plained how the penis slid into the va­gina Helen‘s eyes went down to her father‘s prick. She began to ima­gine how it would feel to have his cock slide deep in­side her. She had fingered her­self of­ten by then and had felt vaguely dis­sat­is­fied. At last she un­der­stood why—her fin­gers were much too small.

	”Sex is a very beau­ti­ful thing between a man and a wo­man. It should be a deep, mean­ing­ful ex­pres­sion of their love for each other and they should both want it very much. There are people who be­lieve that wo­men aren‘t meant to en­joy it but that isn‘t true.“

	”Does mother en­joy it?“ Helen had over­heard so many ar­gu­ments between her par­ents that she wasn‘t sure just what to think.

	”No, she doesn‘t. It‘s not her fault or mine. It was the way she was brought up. That‘s why I‘m try­ing to ex­plain things to you dif­fer­ently, so that when the time comes you won‘t have her hangups.“

	”But isn‘t it aw­fully hard on you? Her not en­joy­ing it, I mean.“

	”Oh, it was in the be­gin­ning. But sex isn‘t that im­port­ant to me any­more. I have you and you make me very happy.“ With that, Paul gave her a big hug.

	As Helen felt her father‘s arms go around her, she wanted to hold him tight so that her body could be close to his. She loved her father and at that mo­ment she knew that she wanted him. And she made up her mind then and there that some day she would make up for her mother in every way she knew how.

	From then on, Helen day­dreamed about her father con­stantly. She ima­gined that his arms were around her and his lips were fastened on hers. His hands eagerly ex­plored every inch of her body un­til they were both filled with an over­whelm­ing pas­sion. Her father ripped off her clothes and moun­ted her, thrust­ing his prick deep in­side her body. And she al­ways loved it.

	When Helen was fif­teen, her mother had to go to the hos­pital to have an op­er­a­tion. Mon­ica told Paul to hire a house­keeper for the two weeks she would be gone but Helen in­ter­vened.

	”Mother, you don‘t need to do that. Now that school is out I can take care of the house and cook. Oh, please let me try. It would be a real blast.“ As soon as she real­ized it would be fun and not a chore for her daugh­ter, Mon­ica agreed.

	On the first night of her mother‘s ab­sence, Helen spent the whole day pre­par­ing a de­li­cious din­ner. Just be­fore her father was home, she slipped into her bikini. She would tell him that it was just too hot to wear any­thing more.

	When Paul first opened the door, he didn‘t re­cog­nize his daugh­ter. He knew she was matur­ing but he had not ex­pec­ted her full breasts and lush curves. As he watched her for a second, he felt his cock be­gin to stir. He felt like telling her to go put some clothes on but re­strained him­self. He didn‘t want to em­bar­rass her or act un­nat­ural in any way.

	After the meal was over, Paul settled down in his fa­vor­ite chair and began to look over the news­pa­per. After a few mo­ments he was in­ter­rup­ted.

	”Daddy, can I talk to you for a minute?“

	”Sure, honey,“ he said, put­ting the pa­per down. Helen climbed into his lap, set­tling down so that her ripe, melon-shaped tits were only a few inches from his face.

	”Daddy, I just want you to know that I love you very much. More than any­one in the whole world. And I al­ways will love you, too.“

	”That‘s very sweet of you but one of these days you‘ll meet a nice boy who will take my place. You‘ll see.“

	”Please don‘t talk to me like I was a child. Look at me! I‘m a wo­man and I know what I want. No other man could make me feel the way you do. Look at my body and tell me that you don‘t want me.

	”Helen, you‘re my daugh­ter. You don‘t know what you‘re say­ing.“

	”I know ex­actly what I‘m say­ing. I want you to fuck me. I want to feel your prick hard and deep in­side my snatch. I want us to have the kind of sex you told me about, mean­ing­ful and won­der­ful. I love you and I want you. For­get I‘m your daugh­ter and just look at me. You want me, you know you do. So why not do it?“

	”But darling, you are still my daugh­ter. What you are sug­gest­ing would be in­cest. And what about your mother?“

	”Oh, shit, what makes in­cest so wrong? There are places all over the world where it‘s per­fectly nor­mal. Even en­cour­aged. And Mom, well what does she have to do with us? You don‘t love her, you love me. And I can give you some­thing she can‘t—a will­ing body. I‘m tak­ing the pill so noth­ing bad could hap­pen. Oh, it would be so good. But wait—look at me, all of me and tell me you don‘t want to fuck me.“ At that, Helen jumped up and took off her bikini. She held her per­fect tits and walked to­wards her father.

	”Look at them, just look. Have you ever seen a sex­ier pair of boobs in your life? And they‘re all yours. All you have to do is take them in your hand, suck on them with your mouth, bite into them with your teeth. Every inch of me is yours to do with what you like. Please, you can‘t ima­gine how much I want you in­side me.“

	She took his hand in hers and ran it across her breast. At the first touch her nipple be­came erect and she put it between his fin­gers. Like a man in a daze he rubbed it and rolled it around between his fin­gers. His other hand found the other breast and rubbed that too.

	”Oh, it‘s so good, it feels so good,“ she moaned. ”Oh, I just love it. I can feel my cunt cream­ing up already. Oh, I love you so much and your hands make me feel so good. Don‘t stop, don‘t ever stop. Just keep on touch­ing me forever.“

	Helen quickly un­dressed him and ran her hands up and down his body. By then, Paul was bey­ond con­trolling his emo­tions. His cock was thick and hard and he knew he wanted the lovely girl who was se­du­cing him.

	She bent down slowly and touched his prick, mar­veling at the hard­ness and the size. It felt warm and she wanted it in­side her body. Tak­ing her father by the hand, she led him up­stairs to her bed­room.

	They lay down on the bed and kissed pas­sion­ately, tongues whip­ping in and out of each oth­ers‘ mouths. Paul kissed Helen‘s re­cept­ive body all over, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. He wrapped his lips around her dis­ten­ded nipples and sucked them hard. Every once in a while he took her tit between his lips and sunk his teeth into the soft­ness of her flesh. Helen moaned louder, telling him that she loved everything he was do­ing to her.

	Paul‘s hands crept fur­ther down along the sen­su­ous curves of her body un­til he felt the curly hair around her cunt. He touched it gently and then star­ted to ex­plore the sweet­ness within. He touched her flesh and found it was warm and very wet. He felt his way around un­til he found her clit. As soon as his fin­gers brushed against it it came to life. It rose up out of the sur­round­ing pink­ness, a small purple staff throb­bing with pas­sion and de­sire.

	Helen was toss­ing on the bed, try­ing hard to keep still. It all felt so won­der­ful to her, even bet­ter than her wild­est dreams. She loved the tingling feel­ing in her tits that was work­ing its way all through her body. As her father played with her cunt and clit she thought how much bet­ter it felt when he was do­ing it.

	The pleas­ure began to ache as her pussy got cream­ier. She could feel her­self open­ing up, mak­ing her feel like a big hole only wait­ing for some­thing to fill it. She took Paul‘s cock in her hand and rubbed it softly for a few seconds. Then she slowly led it down to­wards her ex­pect­ant pussy.

	His first thrust was gentle since he didn‘t want to hurt her. He thought back to his wed­ding night and half ex­pec­ted a flood of tears. In­stead, he was re­war­ded with a low moan of pleas­ure. He pushed his cock in to the hilt and held it steady for a minute, giv­ing Helen a chance to ad­just. He felt her warmth sur­round him and drag him in deeper in­side of her.

	He star­ted work­ing in and out, hat­ing every second when his prick wasn‘t en­gulfed in her. Helen lay back with her eyes half-closed, lov­ing the feel­ing of hav­ing her cunt full with her father‘s hard prick. She star­ted to move with him, meet­ing his thrusts head on. She raised her legs higher and wound them around his back, hug­ging him and hold­ing him close with every fiber of her body.

	Paul worked faster and harder, know­ing that after such a long ab­stin­ence he couldn‘t last very long. He went up and down and ‚round and ‚round in­side her damp cav­ern un­til neither of them could breathe. After a few ex­tra hard thrusts, he came, shoot­ing a large amount of cream deep in­side her. He held steady as he let his man­hood pour into her and then col­lapsed on top of her.

	When Helen felt the first spurt of jism, she let any in­hib­i­tions she had left fly out the win­dow. As her cunt tightened hold on his prick and began to squeeze it she didn‘t real­ize just what was hap­pen­ing. All she knew was her cunt was send­ing the most won­der­ful shivers up and down her body. Since she couldn‘t con­trol the wild spasms she just lay back and en­joyed them.

	After a few minutes of kiss­ing and cud­dling, Paul‘s mind snapped back and he be­came more aware of what he had done. His guilt over­whelmed him and Helen soon real­ized that he was dis­turbed.

	”Daddy, please talk to me. I love you so much. And it‘s all right. You love me too. So don‘t feel guilty. You need me, you know you do. And you want me. You liked fuck­ing me, didn‘t you? I liked it too. And that‘s all there is to it.“

	”But Helen, you‘re my daugh­ter. I shouldn‘t even want to fuck you, much less ac­tu­ally do it. My God, if any­one found out do you know what would hap­pen?“

	”No one is go­ing to find out any­thing about it. Daddy, don‘t you see? You‘ve wasted so much of your life be­ing faith­ful to mother for no reason at all. She doesn‘t want you and I do. We can‘t hurt her be­cause she‘ll never find out.“

	”I‘m sorry dear, but I was brought up to think that some­thing like this is one of the most hor­rible sins. You‘re only fif­teen.“

	”Let‘s keep age out of it. I‘m a wo­man. More of a wo­man than mother ever was.“ Helen could see that her talk­ing wasn‘t con­vin­cing her father so she took his limp cock in her hand and ran her fin­gers up and down the shaft. After a few strokes she could feel the ten­sion build up as his cock grew longer and began to thicken. Paul tried to protest but Helen covered his mouth with hers and kissed him hard, run­ning her tongue in and out of his mouth. He tried not to re­spond but Helen‘s fin­gers on his cock were too much for him.

	As Helen felt the prick grow­ing in her hand her pussy star­ted to cream up again, get­ting ready for him. She waited un­til his cock was hard and throb­bing and then moun­ted him. She knew that he had had no vari­ety be­fore and wanted to give him everything she could.

	Her father gave her a sur­prised look as she slowly eased her­self down, im­pal­ing her­self on his rod. She held onto his shoulders with her hands and moved up and down on him. It took her a few minutes to get the knack but after that she rode him hard and fast.

	Paul couldn‘t be­lieve what was hap­pen­ing. In spite of all his good in­ten­tions he was fuck­ing his daugh­ter again. Or rather, she was fuck­ing him. All the same, he loved it. As she slid up and down his pole he took her breasts in his hands and mas­saged them. Then he let go and just watched the two moun­tains bob up and down in front of his face.

	As she worked faster, Paul felt his cock be­gin to quiver. He grabbed the cheeks of her ass and held her down while his cream poured into her. She gave a sharp cry and col­lapsed on top of him, her cunt grabbing his prick as hard as she could.

	When they awoke the next morn­ing, Paul found his daugh­ter curled in his arms. On the way to work, Paul thought about the situ­ation. He real­ized that Helen wasn‘t go­ing to let him stop. No mat­ter what good thoughts he had they all evap­or­ated at the sight and feel of her young body. He fi­nally de­cided that per­haps in­cest wasn‘t wrong after all. By the time he ar­rived at work he knew that there was no turn­ing back. He also real­ized that once Mon­ica re­turned from the hos­pital things would be more dif­fi­cult. He asked his boss for a two-week va­ca­tion and got it.

	For the next two weeks, Paul and Helen hardly got out of bed. They vis­ited Mon­ica every day and she didn‘t sense any kind of change. But the rest of the time they spent mak­ing love. They tried every con­ceiv­able po­s­i­tion and de­vi­ation and found they loved all of it. Helen es­pe­cially loved it when Paul would get down between her legs and eat her cunt.

	When Mon­ica got home from the hos­pital Paul ren­ted a one-room apart­ment on the other side of town. He and his daugh­ter meet there whenever they can to make love.

	Oddly enough, since the in­ces­tu­ous af­fair began, their home has been much hap­pier. Paul no longer cares if Mon­ica has a sex drive or not, which makes things easier on her.

	It is im­possible to pre­dict what will hap­pen to them. They of­ten dis­cuss mov­ing far away and pre­tend­ing to be mar­ried. There is, of course, al­ways a chance that Helen will even­tu­ally be­come at­trac­ted to an­other man, marry and raise a fam­ily. If that hap­pens, the man will un­doubtedly re­semble her father.


CHAPTER EIGHT

	Ad­oles­cence is a stormy time for both par­ents and chil­dren. For pur­poses of this dis­cus­sion, we will define it as the period of trans­ition between child­hood and ma­tur­ity. Faced with all kinds of new feel­ings and emo­tions, the child may be firmly con­vinced that he knows what is best for him and that it is time for his par­ents to give him the free­dom he thinks he needs.

	On the other hand par­ents, be­ing adults them­selves, can see how im­ma­ture their chil­dren still are. They want to pro­tect the ad­oles­cents from hurt­ing them­selves and oth­ers.

	The pen­du­lum of child rais­ing has swung back and forth between sever­ity and too much per­missive­ness. Cur­rently, the trend is to fol­low your own in­stincts and in­still in the child your own val­ues of right and wrong, mor­al­ity and im­mor­al­ity.

	In the­ory, this is ac­cept­able. But does it really work? The real prob­lem is that in today‘s chan­ging so­ci­ety most people just aren‘t sure what is right and what is wrong. They real­ize they should set cer­tain guidelines for their ad­oles­cent chil­dren, but ex­actly what should they be? While the adults real­ize that their stand­ards can be dif­fer­ent from those of their chil­dren, the teen-agers do not al­ways agree. A father who is keep­ing a mis­tress while he is in­sist­ing that his daugh­ter re­frain from any kind of sexual activ­ity is thought to be a hy­po­crite, at least by his daugh­ter.

	When un­fair re­stric­tions are placed on young people, they have a grow­ing de­sire to get back at the par­ent, to hurt him in some way. Many times this res­ults in an il­le­git­im­ate preg­nancy or ju­ven­ile de­lin­quency or drugs. If the urge for re­venge is strong enough it can res­ult in an in­ces­tu­ous se­duc­tion.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Jen­nie R. Came from a dif­fi­cult home en­vir­on­ment. Her par­ents had never got­ten along well, for as far back as she could re­mem­ber. As she got older the fights were about her.

	”Every damned thing I wanted to do was a big struggle. When I was twelve I wanted to wear lip­stick. Every other kid on the block did. My mom said it was fine but my dad raised holy hell. He called me a tramp and sev­eral other choice things. Fi­nally I just sneaked it on whenever I was away from home. But it was a real pain in the ass.“

	Jen­nie‘s father, Bart, had been fuck­ing every girl he could for years. His wife knew about it but didn‘t care. At first she did but then she real­ized that it meant noth­ing to him and wasn‘t break­ing up their home.

	Most of the girls Bart slept with were much younger than he was. He loved the feel of their high, firm breasts and their tight pussies. When he plunged his cock in­side them it made him feel young again.

	While none of the girls were as young as Jen­nie was then, he knew that he didn‘t want his daugh­ter to spread her legs for any­one who asked. Be­cause of this, he fought every ef­fort the girl made to grow up. He felt that he knew what young girls were like and he wanted his daugh­ter to be dif­fer­ent.

	When Jen­nie was six­teen, she star­ted go­ing out on dates. Nat­ur­ally, this wor­ried and en­raged her father.

	”Where the hell have you been? It‘s after mid­night.“

	”Daddy, I‘m only five minutes late.“

	”But where have you been? What have you been do­ing with that young punk for four hours?“

	”I told you, we went to a show and then stopped off and had some pizza.“

	”That doesn‘t take four hours. I sup­pose after that you drove around the park. And kissed and necked and God knows what else. That‘s what did, isn‘t it? Isn‘t it?“

	”No, we didn‘t park. He kissed me good­night a couple of times and that was all. Really it was.“

	”I don‘t be­lieve you. No daugh­ter of mine is go­ing to be­have like a tramp. Not while she‘s liv­ing in my house.“

	”But Daddy, I didn‘t do any­thing. But one of these days I will, just you wait. I think you want me to get fucked, or raped or some­thing. You keep talk­ing about it like that and I swear I will.“ The more her father ques­tioned and ab­used the girl, the more she thought about sex. She knew sev­eral girls in school who had fucked and they seemed just fine. No one ever said any­thing nasty about them and they all had steady boy­friends. Jen­nie began to ques­tion her par­ents‘ stand­ards.

	She had al­ways had a strong sexual urge, ever since she could re­mem­ber. As a small child she had mas­turb­ated fre­quently. She didn‘t even know it was a sexual thing—it just felt good. And when she was ten she had done a great deal of ex­per­i­ment­a­tion with an­other girl.

	The two girls both felt an over­whelm­ing curi­os­ity about sex. Polly had found a magazine in her brother‘s room show­ing all kinds of po­s­i­tions. They read all about it and thought it might be fun to try. One night they did.

	”Polly, you be the boy first and then I‘ll be the boy, okay?“ Polly began by tak­ing Jen­nie in her arms and kiss­ing her soft, sweet lips. Their lips par­ted at the same time and their tongues dar­ted in and out of each oth­ers‘ mouths. Jen­nie re­laxed and lay back on the bed while Polly climbed on top of her.

	The girls quickly un­dressed each other and rubbed their bud­ding tits to­gether un­til they were both moan­ing with pas­sion. Polly‘s hand crept down Jen­nie‘s legs un­til she came to the soft, wet cav­ern between them. Shyly she covered the warm cunt with her hand, let­ting all the juice and vi­bra­tion flow all through her body.

	At the touch of a hand on her cunt Jen­nie felt her clit jump up as the hot blood poured into it. Soon her whole pink, glisten­ing cunt was ex­cited and she took Polly‘s hand in hers and moved it up and down. It didn‘t take the other girl long to find out just how Jen­nie liked it. She rubbed the tight twat and rolled the swollen clit around in her fin­gers, driv­ing Jen­nie out of her mind.

	At last her fin­gers found their way back to Jen­nie‘s open hole and she ran them in and out as fast as she could. Jen­nie groaned and then came, giv­ing a sharp scream.

	When it was Jen­nie‘s turn to be the boy, she spread Polly‘s legs wide open to get a good, close look at her quiv­er­ing pussy. She thought it looked so sweet and open and help­less just lay­ing there ex­posed, with drops of cream glisten­ing like dew, that she bent down and kissed it gently. She found the taste de­light­ful and began to lick and suck and bite on the sweet cunny.

	Polly was so turned on that she couldn‘t keep still. She wanted to toss and turn on the bed and scream with ex­cite­ment. When Jen­nie tongued her hole, work­ing in and out as fast as a snake, Polly went wild. She came so hard and fast that Jen­nie was afraid her friend was hav­ing some kind of aw­ful con­vul­sion.

	After find­ing out how much pleas­ure they re­ceived from sex, the girls were both eager to keep it up as Of­ten as they could. For the next two years they tried to spend the night to­gether as of­ten as they could man­age. It worked out to about once a week.

	The older the girls got, the more they learned about sex. While their first ex­per­i­ence had been prac­tic­ally guilt free, to­wards the end they both were be­gin­ning to won­der if some­thing was the mat­ter with them. Fi­nally they just stopped hav­ing sexual re­la­tions but re­mained good friends all the same.

	Jen­nie‘s father‘s taunts and sug­ges­tions re­minded Jen­nie just how much she en­joyed sex. She was a pretty girl and dated a lot and it wasn‘t long be­fore she star­ted look­ing at the boys dif­fer­ently. She began to ima­gine what it would feel like to get fucked and sucked by every boy she met.

	Nat­ur­ally the boys all tried but she res­isted them. Not be­cause she thought sex was wrong, no mat­ter what her father said, but be­cause she wanted to be in love.

	As she told Polly, ”I‘m sure as hell in fa­vor of fuck­ing. But for the first time I want it to be so beau­ti­ful that I‘ll al­ways re­mem­ber it my whole life long. And I can‘t be­lieve that kind of beauty can be found on the back seat of a car with a cas­ual date.“

	By then, Polly had slept with three boys and thought her friend‘s at­ti­tude was a little stuffy.

	”You mean you want to be en­gaged or some­thing? Look, from my ex­per­i­ence I can tell you that a cock is a cock and they all do just about the same thing once they get in­side of you. Shit, with your at­ti­tude you might still be a vir­gin when you‘re twenty or some­thing.“

	”God, don‘t even joke about some­thing like that. And I‘m not look­ing for a ring, either. I just want to feel some­thing really spe­cial for the guy. I want to be in love, that‘s all. Were you ever in love?“

	”Sure. I was with Tim, my first. God, I was starry eyed and couldn‘t eat—the whole bit. I just about came from hold­ing hands. When I got home from a date I had to wash out all my panties my­self so my mother wouldn‘t see all the cream.“

	”Well, wasn‘t the first time won­der­ful?“

	”It was all right. But let‘s face it, it gets bet­ter and bet­ter all the time. Be­sides, Tim turned out to be a real bas­tard. In bed he was fine but oth­er­wise he was dread­ful. That‘s the great thing about fuck­ing—it clears your eyes. Be­fore you do it you‘re so wrapped up in sex that you can‘t think of any­thing else.“

	”Still, didn‘t be­ing so crazy about him make it bet­ter?“

	”No. Look, I can‘t tell you what to do. If you think it would be bet­ter to fall in love, then wait un­til you do. Frankly, I think love gets in the way of good sex. But that‘s me. And we are two dif­fer­ent people, after all.“ A few weeks after Jen­nie and Polly had their talk, Rod moved into town. He was everything Jen­nie had al­ways wanted in a boy. He was good look­ing in a rugged, mas­cu­line way with broad shoulders and a slim waist. His pants were so tight that when he walked Jen­nie could see the bulge of his prick. All the girls in school com­men­ted about how well hung he looked.

	Be­sides be­ing good-look­ing, he was very bright and had a good sense of hu­mor. As soon as she saw him Jen­nie knew that some­thing was go­ing to hap­pen. Since Jen­nie was the best-look­ing girl in school who wasn‘t already go­ing steady, it seemed nat­ural that the two would get to­gether.

	After a few dates, Rod sug­ges­ted that they go to the park for a while. Jen­nie read­ily agreed, know­ing that they wanted each other. Rod spread a blanket out on the warm ground and they lay there hold­ing hands and look­ing up at the sky. He fi­nally leaned over and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him and drew him close un­til he was lay­ing on top of her.

	They lay like that, kiss­ing and hold­ing each other for a long time. Jen­nie could feel Rod‘s hard­ness pressed against her body and she loved it. He un­buttoned her blouse and slipped his hand un­der­neath her bra un­til he was hold­ing her breast firmly. With his other hand he reached around and un­hooked her bra so that her lovely breasts fell free.

	In the moon­light they looked like two white moun­tains, topped off by pale pink peaks. He played with her nipples and then kissed them, tak­ing them in his mouth and suck­ing un­til they were swollen with pas­sion. Jen­nie held his head down to her breasts, run­ning her fin­gers through his hair.

	He un­dressed her quickly, run­ning his hands up and down her white, moon­lit body. After feel­ing all the wet, sloshy cream in her cunt he climbed on top of her and slid his stick in­side her body. It hurt at first but the pain quickly passed. As Rod rammed his prick into her body every fiber of her be­ing re­spon­ded. She was fuck­ing with her heart and soul and cunt and she loved every second of it.

	When Rod came, his cream spur­ted into her pussy and felt like it was spiral­ing up­ward, to reach every inch of her body. Her box spasmed and caused a tidal wave of love and pas­sion to flow through her. She came again and again, each new or­gasm gain­ing in­tens­ity un­til she felt close to passing out.

	They would have liked to stay and en­joy the moon­light but Jen­nie had to be home on time. She knew that she was in for an­other cross-ex­am­in­a­tion by her father and wasn‘t look­ing for­ward to it.

	After a few more weeks Rob asked her to go steady. She ac­cep­ted right away, know­ing that it proved to her that he really loved her. But when she told her par­ents, her father blew up.

	”What the hell do you mean, you‘re go­ing steady? Is that just some new ex­cuse to spread your legs? I for­bid it. I won‘t let you get tied down to one boy. You‘re only six­teen. You‘re not in love, you just want to drop your pants. I don‘t think you should see this Rod any­more at all. That‘s what I think. And you damned well bet­ter do what I say or I‘ll beat your ass black and blue. Is that clear?“

	”But Daddy, we love each other. What‘s so wrong about that?“

	”If you don‘t know, I sure can‘t tell you. Now go to bed.“

	”But ... ”

	”You heard me, go to bed. And if I catch you with him again I won‘t let you out of my sight. Go to your room.“

	Jen­nie left, sob­bing bit­terly. She knew that there was noth­ing wrong with what she and Rod had done. She loved him and he loved her. And she loved the feel of his arms hold­ing her tight, and his cock run­ning in and out of her body. She didn‘t think she could live without him.

	When she told Rod what her father had said he was amazed.

	”Jen­nie, I can‘t give you up, I love you too much. Look, we‘ll just have to meet secretly. I‘m sure we won‘t get caught.“

	They man­aged for two weeks, meet­ing down at the lake or in Rod‘s house while his par­ents were out. The secrecy some­how gave their af­fair new mean­ing.

	”Rod, I don‘t know why but I feel so much closer to you now. It‘s like we‘re all alone in the world and all we have is each other. Oh, I love you and I love it even more when you touch me. Don‘t stop, oh, come in­side me where you be­long. That feels so good. It‘s like I have some­thing of yours and I never want to let it go. I wish your cock could stay in­side me forever.“

	But they got caught. A neigh­bor of Jen­nie‘s men­tioned to her father that she had run into them in a cof­fee shop. When he found out, he was livid with rage. His own ex­per­i­ence with girls made him be­lieve that there was only one reason why they would still be see­ing each other.

	”Jen­nie, I warned you. Now I want you to un­der­stand some­thing. You are to come home right after school every day. If you are ten minutes late you‘ll be sorry. Your mother can keep an eye on you in the af­ter­noon. You are not to step out of the house alone. Your girl friends can come here but you can­not visit them. Either your mother or I will an­swer all phone calls. You will not be al­lowed out by your­self at any time. Is that clear?“

	”I hate you. You‘re an aw­ful man and I hate you,“ Jen­nie sobbed. Then she ran from the room.

	Her mother tried to de­fend her and reason with her father but it didn‘t work. He re­fused to re­lent.

	Jen­nie was miser­able. She felt like a caged rat, never be­ing alone. One day when Polly was over, her mother told her that she could go out to lunch, but that she had to be back in ex­actly one hour. Jen­nie gave her a quick hug, grabbed Polly, and ran out the door. They went to an out-of-the-way res­taur­ant where they thought they wouldn‘t run into Jen­nie‘s father.

	But they did. He was sit­ting in a dark corner with a young blonde, hold­ing her hand with one hand and her knee with the other. The girls didn‘t see him at first, but when they did Jen­nie al­most fain­ted.

	”Isn‘t that Robin with him, the girl who had that aw­ful repu­ta­tion?“

	”I don‘t know, Jen­nie. Who was she?“

	”Oh, she gradu­ated about two years ago. I heard that at one party she blew half the foot­ball team while the other half were fuck­ing her. But what is Daddy do­ing with her?“

	”I think that‘s ob­vi­ous.“ By then, not know­ing that he was be­ing watched, Jen­nie‘s father had his hand all the way up the girl‘s dress. From the way she was squirm­ing around it was clear that she was en­joy­ing it. The girls gulped their food down fast and left in a hurry.

	When they got back home, they went into Jen­nie‘s room and shut the door. Her mother thought they were be­hav­ing a little oddly but knew Jen­nie had been un­der a strain so she ig­nored it.

	”Polly, I can‘t be­lieve it. But I‘ll bet it isn‘t the first time. I‘ve seen him look you over once or twice in a funny way, like he was strip­ping you. Hell, he ac­cused me of be­ing a tramp. He must chase every kid in a mini that comes within two miles of him. The old bas­tard. Polly, I have to think of some way to get back at him. I hate him so much that I‘d like to slit his throat but I don‘t want to hurt Mom. So it will have to be some­thing very spe­cial.“

	”Like what?“

	”I don‘t know. What would bother him more than any­thing else in the world?“

	”Maybe if you star­ted sleep­ing around.“

	”Yeah, but that would bother me a little too.“ Jen­nie thought for a few minutes. ”I think I‘ve got it. If I could get him to fuck me then he would really hate him­self. Don‘t you think?“

	”Jen­nie! But how would you do it? And could you stand it? I mean, you‘re the one who thought love was so damned im­port­ant and you hate the old phony.“

	”If I knew it would blow his mind I could man­age it. As to how—when I had my period I blew Rob in­stead of let­ting him fuck me. Now, if I went to work on my dad‘s cock I‘ll bet he could get him so hot that he wouldn‘t know what the hell he was do­ing.“

	”But what if it didn‘t work? He might have you com­mit­ted or some­thing.“

	”Shit, I‘m already in prison here. I don‘t think any­thing could be much worse. Polly, I have to do some­thing. I can‘t just sit here and take it, now that I know about him. God, I hate him. I hope it makes him so miser­able that he‘ll never be able to get it up again. God, what a bas­tard.“ After a few more tries, Polly real­ized she couldn‘t talk Jen­nie out of it. So she left, say­ing, ”I think you‘re nuts but if you need any help just give a yell. Good luck, you‘ll need it.“ So Jen­nie thought about her plan and figured out that she would have to wait three days when her mother would be play­ing bridge. The ac­tual thought of suck­ing her father off made her sick so she didn‘t think about it. In­stead, she con­cen­trated on the fact that it would really mess him up.

	Fi­nally the night ar­rived. Her father was sit­ting watch­ing tele­vi­sion when she walked down­stairs dressed in a trans­par­ent neg­li­gee.

	”What the hell is that get-up for? Go put some clothes on.“ All the same he couldn‘t quite ig­nore the curves of her body, the pink of her taut nipples or the patch of hair between her legs.

	”I thought it was time we had a little talk. I know about you, Daddy. I saw you with Robin. I guess you just like young girls like me, don‘t you? Well I‘m as good as any of your other tramps. In fact, I‘ll bet I could give you thrills you never had be­fore.“ With that, she sat down next to him and began to un­dress him.

	”Wait a minute, what the hell are you do­ing?“

	”Just re­lax, Daddy dear. And try to en­joy it.“ His pants were down and she took his prick out and looked at it for a minute. Then she ran her fin­gers gently around the head, watch­ing it grow. When it was com­pletely hard, she bent down and took it between her lips. She ran her tongue around the swollen, purple head and then took it into her mouth. She sucked on it gently at first but with in­creas­ing vigor. Her hand went around to cup his balls and she held them while she con­tin­ued to suck.

	Her father sat there, un­able or un­will­ing to move. She had been right about one thing—it was the best blow­job he had ever had. Through the fog cov­er­ing his brain he kept try­ing to tell her to stop but the words just wouldn‘t come.

	She took his whole prick in her mouth and used everything she had on it. Her cheeks were suck­ing while her teeth held the hard knob. Her tongue ran all around it, dart­ing in and out of the tiny open­ing on the end. She was re­war­ded with a drop or two of cream, which made her suck all the harder. At last he came, pour­ing cream deep into her mouth. Hat­ing it be­cause it was his, she forced her­self to swal­low it. As her father lay back in his chair look­ing stunned, Jen­nie went up to her bed­room and locked the door. She fell asleep quickly, won­der­ing what the next day would bring.

	At break­fast her father avoided her. Even when she tried to talk to him he re­fused to look her in the eye. Since he ob­vi­ously wasn‘t go­ing to re­port her to any­one, she knew that she was safe. When he came home for din­ner she told him that she would like to have a talk with him.

	”Daddy, I think you real­ize now that there is no reason to keep me closed up like this any­more. I‘ll leave you alone if you change your mind and let me go steady with Rod. Is that all right?“

	”Yes, it‘s all right.“ Her father spoke softly, as though all the fire had gone out of him. ”Do whatever you want. I won‘t in­ter­fere in any way. But please leave me alone. I don‘t even want to look at you.“

	So Jen­nie and Rod went steady through high school and col­lege, and even­tu­ally got mar­ried. Her father, be­ing un­able to bear the thought of what had happened, man­aged to con­sciously for­get the en­tire epis­ode. But ever since then he has been faith­ful to his wife.


CHAPTER NINE

	Nat­ur­ally, not every case of in­cest in­volves mu­tual con­sent. This is es­pe­cially true in father-daugh­ter cases in­volving people who are so­cially and eco­nom­ic­ally de­prived.

	Ac­cord­ing to Dr. Kirson Wein­berg, in his book In­cest Be­ha­vior, ”Most fath­ers and broth­ers were un­skilled, manual work­ers. Many par­ti­cipants (36.1 per­cent) were skilled or semiskilled work­ers. Forty-three per­cent were un­em­ployed at the time of the in­cest.“

	In cases like these, where the daugh­ter is raped without con­sent, it is due to the fact that the father feels like a fail­ure. In or­der to build up his ego he needs to feel at­tract­ive and wanted. Nat­ur­ally, rap­ing his daugh­ter does not have a be­ne­fi­cial ef­fect but be­fore the act he doesn‘t real­ize this.

	What hap­pens to the daugh­ters? Some are afraid to tell any­one be­cause they fear their fath­ers. Oth­ers leave home and sink into a life of pros­ti­tu­tion. And some man­age to over­come what has happened to them and be­gin life again.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Tamara T., a lovely young wo­man in her middle twen­ties, was raped by her father when she was six­teen. After sev­eral years of pros­ti­tu­tion she pulled her­self out, with some help, and is now mar­ried very hap­pily.

	”The memory doesn‘t hurt so bad now. For a long time I couldn‘t even think about it without break­ing down and cry­ing.

	”To be­gin with, I was raised in a real hell hole of a slum. We never had enough food or cloth­ing or any­thing else. My father worked as a jan­itor and brought home money every week but it was spent fast. The only other thing he was good for was get­ting my mother knocked up about once a year.

	”I was the old­est, and I can‘t hon­estly say that I had any real child­hood. Most of the time I was busy tak­ing care of the kids or a new baby. I went to school when I could but that wasn‘t of­ten. Hell, my mom couldn‘t take care of five kids and be preg­nant all the time without some help.

	”I didn‘t feel all that de­prived, though. Shit, I didn‘t know any­one who was any bet­ter off. In fact, we were pretty lucky. Most of the men ran out after a couple of kids came along.

	”The fact that my father had a steady job seemed to make us just a little bet­ter than most people. Maybe that‘s why I was still a vir­gin at six­teen. All my friends were fuck­ing since they were thir­teen and four­teen, some even younger. I thought then, I hon­estly be­lieved that is, I was a good girl and I would some­how ma­gic­ally get out of the slum.

	”Be­sides that, to be per­fectly hon­est, in that en­vir­on­ment stay­ing good wasn‘t that much of a struggle. I was a good-look­ing kid so all the boys were after me but they made me sick. They all quit school and did noth­ing but loaf. Oh, they would sit around and say that to­mor­row they were go­ing to find a good job and turn into mil­lion­aires but none of them ever did any­thing about it. Along with that, they were all so dirty. It costs money to heat wa­ter and most of the fam­il­ies around us just didn‘t have it.

	”My father was al­ways so proud of his job. He had worked in the same place for fif­teen years, and in our neigh­bor­hood, that was some re­cord! Then the place changed hands, and the new owner de­cided it would be more ef­fi­cient to hire a ser­vice. They could come in with high powered ma­chines and clean the place in an hour.

	”Some of the other em­ploy­ees stood up for my father but it didn‘t do a damn bit of good. The boss told them that sen­ti­ment­al­ism couldn‘t stand in the way of pro­gress. Shit!

	”Any­way, after he lost his job he just col­lapsed for a while. He‘d al­ways liked his beer and went on a real binge. He wasn‘t a nasty drunk or any­thing, at least not at first. He mostly just felt sorry for him­self and tears would roll down his face.

	”Our money ran out quick and there were ten kids to feed. I offered to get a job but Momma said no. Since I didn‘t have much edu­ca­tion the best I could do would be clean­ing someone else‘s house. Al­though she wouldn‘t let me do that, that‘s just what she did. I stayed home and took care of all the kids and tried to make my father feel bet­ter.

	”The second day Momma was gone I star­ted no­ti­cing the way my old man kept look­ing at me. He was star­ing at my tits and ass like I was a strange wo­man and not his daugh­ter.

	”One day I sent all the kids out to play at a neigh­bor‘s so I could have a little peace. I was so tired and worn out from chas­ing them all day long. I went to the bed­room, stripped off all my clothes to cool off, and fell asleep.

	”When I woke up, the first thing I saw was my father‘s face star­ing down at my na­ked body. I tried to pull the sheet up to cover my­self, but he wouldn‘t let me. He was drunker than I‘d ever seen him be­fore and he kept telling me what a pretty pussy I had. Then he sat down on the bed, right next to me.

	”I was kind of scared but I didn‘t think he would ac­tu­ally do any­thing. I mean, he was my father and all. So I just lay there and kept still while I listened to him talk­ing about my body.

	”Then he took his hand and put it down on my tit­tie. He didn‘t move it or any­thing, just left it there. I tried to push his hand away and he slapped me. Then I was really scared. I fought and struggled with him to let me go but he just wouldn‘t. He was a lot stronger than I was and when he climbed on top of me I couldn‘t get away. I kept yelling and try­ing to scratch his eyes out but no one heard.

	”He slipped out of his clothes and I could see his pecker all hard and swollen. At first I was fas­cin­ated but then I re­membered that he was go­ing to stick that long, thick rod into me. I was ter­ri­fied and screamed some more. He kept slap­ping me. It was aw­ful—he was like a wild man.

	”He slipped his knee in between my legs and spread them wide open. Then he plunged his prick down into me, tear­ing me wide open. I screamed again and pleaded with him to stop but he didn‘t hear. He just kept ram­ming that pole harder and harder. I could feel the blood from my cherry flow­ing down my leg as he kept right on fuck­ing me.

	”The pain was so aw­ful—my cunt muscles were so tight that it hurt ten times worse than it could have. I was close to faint­ing when he came. The cream warmed up my sore cunt a little but scared me shit­less. I was afraid I would get knocked up and that was the last thing in the world that I wanted.

	”After he came, he just col­lapsed right next to me. I got up and got dressed and took off. I didn‘t have any plans then, I just wanted to get out of that house and away from the smell of beer and jism.

	”While I walked, I did some hard think­ing. I knew that if I went back I would prob­ably have to face the same damn thing over and over again. Be­sides that, I wanted a chance to get out of the gut­ter, to make some­thing of my­self. The last thing in the world I wanted was to grow up like my mother.

	”While I was think­ing and won­der­ing just how I was go­ing to feed my­self and find a place to stay a man walked up to me and offered me twenty bucks. At first I felt like slap­ping the shit out of him, wip­ing the evil leer off his ugly face. But then he took the twenty out of his wal­let and waved it in front of me. Some­how, see­ing the money is a hell of a lot dif­fer­ent than just talk­ing about it.

	”I took a bet­ter look at him. He was no doll but he wasn‘t much uglier than my father. And un­pleas­ant as the whole thing had been I had lived through it. Be­sides, he looked clean enough and didn‘t smell.

	”I could tell by the way he was look­ing me up and down that he really had the hots for me. Hell, his prick was already stick­ing half out of his pants. So I took the money and fol­lowed him home.

	”His place wasn‘t too bad. He had a big bathtub that I used right away. I was walk­ing around him stark na­ked but that didn‘t bother me. Hell, I‘d been shar­ing a room with ten kids all my life and half of them were boys. Of course, my na­ked­ness had never got­ten the same re­ac­tion be­fore, His eyes looked like they would bug out of his head.

	”After I had cleaned up a little, I lay down on the bed and waited for him. Even though he knew I was a whore he was a lot gentler than my father had been. He kissed me a few times and played with my tits, try­ing to get me hot. I was too scared un­til his hand went between my legs. He rubbed and played with my clit un­til I felt pretty good. I looked up at him and he didn‘t look at all ugly any­more—I just wanted to feel his hard cock in­side my body.

	”I was cream­ing like mad by then. As he climbed on top of me I was afraid it was go­ing to hurt but I forced my­self to re­lax. Since my cunt had leaked so much his pecker just slid right in.

	”Oh, it hurt just a little at first since my pussy was still sore from my father. But as he worked his cock in and out of me the pain just dis­ap­peared. I moved with him, arch­ing my back and meet­ing every thrust. It felt just won­der­ful.

	”I didn‘t ex­actly come that time, but when his gun went off in­side me I felt won­der­ful shivers run down my whole body. And when he offered me ten more dol­lars to spend the night I agreed right away.

	”I got to know him a little bet­ter that night, es­pe­cially his body, and the next day I told him the truth. At first he didn‘t be­lieve that I was so in­ex­per­i­enced but I con­vinced him.

	”He told me that he couldn‘t do too much to help me but that he knew a man who was a pimp. The man would find dates for me and then take a com­mis­sion. It soun­ded pretty good so I went to see him.

	”Tom was a freaky-look­ing guy. Al­though his skin was clean and all, some­how he looked dirty. I can‘t ex­plain it but he just turned me off. I knew the thirty bucks I had wouldn‘t last long so I was nice to him any­way.

	”After talk­ing to him for a few minutes, he told me it was time for my test. I didn‘t have any idea what the hell he was talk­ing about.

	” ‚My dear, you are a lovely girl. But I can‘t re­com­mend you to any of my friends un­til I have a much bet­ter idea of your cap­ab­il­it­ies.‘

	”I asked him if he wanted to fuck me and he said he did, along with some other things.

	” ‚How are you at giv­ing head?‘

	” ‚At what?‘ I hon­estly didn‘t know what he was talk­ing about.

	” ‚Giv­ing head, a blow­job, cock­suck­ing. Whatever you want to call it.‘ ”I told him I had never done it.

	”‘Well, we‘ll start with that, then. In this busi­ness, the more jobs you can do well the bet­ter you‘ll be paid. I have many men who just want to get blown. They can get fucked at home but when they want some­thing a little dif­fer­ent they come to me.

	” ‚Now then, come over here and un­dress me. Just my pants, that‘s all you have to worry about right now. That‘s right, Now take my prick in your hand and run your gentle fin­gers up and down it. That‘s right, now around the head. Very good, my dear.‘

	”Fol­low­ing more in­struc­tions, I lowered my head and licked the knob of his prick. He told me to be very care­ful to get the tip of my tongue in­side the tiny hole at the end. Then I worked my tongue back and forth, hold­ing his balls in my hand un­til he was moan­ing with pleas­ure.

	”As I took the first four inches of his cock into my mouth and sucked on it, a drop of his cream came out. I wanted to spit it out but he told me that I would have to learn to like it. So I rolled it around in my mouth for a few seconds to get used to the taste be­fore I swal­lowed it. It wasn‘t too bad.

	”He was get­ting more ex­cited then, and had me suck harder. He worked his cock around in my mouth a little and then I felt it be­gin to quiver. I sucked as hard as I could and he came fast.

	”Sud­denly my mouth was filled with his come. I gulped it down and he spur­ted even more out. As his prick stayed ri­gid, cough­ing and spurt­ing more gushes of cream. I sucked again, try­ing to draw out all that he had within him. Fi­nally he stopped and his cock slowly began to go limp.

	” ‚My dear, that was ex­cel­lent. I don‘t think I need to give you any more in­struc­tions today—you‘ll do fine. Here is an ad­dress and a key. The apart­ment is yours just as long as you are in my ser­vice. I‘ll give you a call in the morn­ing to tell you what your ap­point­ments are.‘

	”I found the apart­ment with the help of a cab­bie. It was in a nice part of town, much to my re­lief. And when I walked in the door I went wild. There was a bed­room with a huge bed, bath­room, kit­chen, din­ing area, and liv­ing room. And the fur­niture seemed fant­astic! I know now that it was the cheapest mod­ern junk avail­able but then it seemed sheer el­eg­ance.

	”I walked around the place for an hour, giv­ing all the rooms a good look time and time again. I had never seen such a won­der­ful place.

	”I was ex­cited and rest­less so I went out for a walk. Be­sides that, I needed food to fill my new re­fri­ger­ator and cup­boards. When I got back, I cooked some din­ner and went to bed full and happy for the first time in my life.

	”The next morn­ing I was awakened by a knock at the door. It was a de­liv­ery boy from a de­part­ment store with some clothes for me. Two dresses, an even­ing gown, and three sexy night­ies. All for me, and all paid for.

	”Tom called me while I was try­ing all my things on. I thanked him a mil­lion times and he kept say­ing I would be worth it. He also told me to ex­pect a man in about an hour and to be nice to him. Well, if it meant new clothes and a won­der­ful place to live, I would be nice to the devil him­self.

	”I spent the hour wait­ing for him by tak­ing a long bath and put­ting on my makeup. Then I slipped into one of the sexy gowns and sat down to wait. He was right on time and he had a suit­case with him.

	”He looked me over for a few minutes and then said it was time to get star­ted. He opened up the case and took out a nasty-look­ing whip. I was ter­ri­fied that he was go­ing to beat me up but in­stead, it turned out that I was sup­posed to whip him. I couldn‘t see get­ting any kicks that way but then I re­membered what Tom has said about un­usual things be­ing worth more.

	”He stripped his clothes off in a hurry and lay down on the bed. His body was good and his prick was im­mense. It was at least seven inches long and it hadn‘t even star­ted to get hard!

	”I hon­estly didn‘t want to whip him but he was the boss. At first I lashed his chest and arms gently with the whip but he kept telling me to hit him harder. So I pre­ten­ded he was my father and a bunch of other rot­ten people and let him have it. When he star­ted to bleed I got scared but he told me to keep go­ing and start work­ing over his cock.

	”The whip caught just the tip of it with the first stroke. The amaz­ing thing was that as soon as I lashed him he star­ted to get hard. The harder I whipped him the big­ger his cock got. By the time he was fully erect his pecker was at least ten inches long and two inches around.

	”As I whipped him harder I no­ticed his cock start to quiver and shake. He came fast, spurt­ing a wa­ter­fall of cream all over the bed. The ex­pres­sion on his face was some­thing else. I don‘t think I‘ve ever seen any­one look that happy.

	”After it was all over, he got up and got dressed, giv­ing me a hun­dred bucks. That was the most money I had ever seen all at one time be­fore. He said good-bye and left me still star­ing at all the bills. I was dis­ap­poin­ted that he hadn‘t even touched me once but the money more than made up for it.

	”He was a steady cus­tomer for about two years and the same damned thing happened every time he came for a visit. Even though I didn‘t get much out of it I looked for­ward to him. He al­ways paid and never gave me any trouble at all.

	”That‘s a hell of a lot more than I can say for some of the guys. One of them wanted to whip me but I didn‘t let him. I didn‘t need the money that badly.

	”I think the strangest thing that ever happened to me was when Fred came. I was ex­pect­ing a cli­ent and when I opened the door I could have sworn that it was my father. This guy looked just like him, only cleaner and bet­ter dressed.

	”I would have thought that would turn me off but it didn‘t. In­stead, as soon as I looked at him I felt my pants be­gin to cream. I gave him ex­tra spe­cial treat­ment, too.

	”I star­ted kiss­ing him hard while my hands roamed all over his body and my cunt was pressed close to him so that I could feel his cock be­gin to swell. While we were kiss­ing I worked his clothes off and then went down on him for a minute or two. I would have liked to suck him off all the way and swal­low his cream but he wasn‘t will­ing. He wanted just a fuck. If it hadn‘t been bad busi­ness I would have offered to throw the blow­job in for noth­ing.

	”Any­way, he got on top of me and I really gave him a workout. I moved un­der­neath him in circles so that I could feel his prick in every single corner of my box. Then I wrapped my legs around his back so that his cock could get all the way in­side me.

	”I star­ted com­ing be­fore he did, driv­ing him crazy with my spas­ming cunt. And when he came I held him tight and kissed him all over the place. I didn‘t ima­gine he was my father or any­thing like that—I just knew he turned me on a hell of a lot. He was a steady cus­tomer for a long, long time.

	”Usu­ally when I get a guy I let him un­dress him­self and just wait for him on the bed, sprawled out with my legs wide open. Then, un­less he really gets to me, I sort of lay there while he fucks me. Oh, I move a little but I don‘t ex­ert my­self. At that time I was hav­ing four or five men a day and I didn‘t want to poop out or let my pussy get too sore.

	”After I‘d been in busi­ness for about a year I began to be able to choose my cli­ents, more or less. I just told Tom things I didn‘t like to do and he kept the guys away. Not that there was a hell of a lot I didn‘t like. Of course, I didn‘t want any whip­ping, at least not On me. The only other thing I didn‘t dig was get­ting it up my ass. It al­ways hurt and I never came from it. So why the hell bother?

	”After five years I was Tom‘s highest paid call girl. I moved into an el­eg­ant apart­ment and kept the other one for busi­ness. I was mak­ing about five hun­dred a week, tax free. If Tom hadn‘t been so greedy I would have made more. Out of that I had rent on two places to pay, food and li­quor, clothes, makeup, and other shit like that. Be­sides that, I al­ways sent twenty-five a week to my mother. It wasn‘t much, but I knew that if I sent more she would get sus­pi­cious as hell and might re­fuse the money. Even with all my ex­penses I man­aged to save a hell of a lot.

	”It wasn‘t a bad life but five years was long enough. In my busi­ness, age is no ad­vant­age. Men like young girls, and the younger the bet­ter. So when I had enough money saved, I pulled out and went to an­other city.

	”There I took a high school equi­val­ency test and got a dip­loma. Then I went on to col­lege. At first it was a real riot, listen­ing to the other girls won­der if they should fuck or not and shit like that. I was so much older than they were, and most of it wasn‘t years.

	”For the first two years I stud­ied hard and stayed away from men. After five years of banging you get a little tired of it. At least I did. But in my third year I met Gil. He was everything I had al­ways dreamed of. He was in law school and smart as a whip. Be­sides that, he was one beau­ti­ful guy. He still is.

	”We star­ted dat­ing and got ser­i­ous fast. I knew I wanted to marry him and he felt the same way about me. My only prob­lem was telling him what I had been. I was so afraid that would ruin everything. Nat­ur­ally he knew I wasn‘t a vir­gin, but be­ing a non-vir­gin and a former whore are two dif­fer­ent things.

	”I broke down and told him the night he gave me my en­gage­ment ring. He looked sad and up­set and left early that night. I cried my­self to sleep, think­ing what a stu­pid ass I had been for open­ing my mouth.

	”The next day he came over. I‘ll never for­get what he said to me.

	” ‚Darling, all that was three years ago. You did what you had to do in a very rough, cruel world and I think you‘re a bet­ter per­son for it. What mat­ters to me is our life to­gether and the fu­ture. The past is gone, so just let it die.‘

	”I cried and he cried and then we went to bed and it was great. He ac­cep­ted my past and never asked any ques­tions. We‘ve been mar­ried five years now and I still love him. He has yet to ask me any­thing.

	”In spite of all the hell I went through, some­times I feel as though it were all part of a di­vine plan. If my father hadn‘t raped me, if I hadn‘t been a whore, if I hadn‘t gone to col­lege and met Gil, I could have stayed in the slums and turned out just like my mother. In any case, I think I was damned lucky.“


CHAPTER TEN

	Laura looked des­pond­ently at the empty shell that was to be her new home. She was an at­tract­ive wo­man in her late twen­ties. Her fig­ure was good with firm breasts and slim, wil­lowy legs. Atop that was her face, more than just pretty and well set off by her long blond hair. Only the deep blue eyes and the circles un­der­neath them showed the strain she had been un­der.

	As she perched on a suit­case, wait­ing for the movers to come with her fur­niture, she thought back over the past two weeks. In such a short amount of time so much had changed.

	That night, just two weeks ago, she had been happy and gay. Laura had been put­ting the last fin­ish­ing touches on din­ner and wait­ing for Richard, her hus­band, to come home when the door­bell rang. She had run to an­swer it, as­sum­ing Richard had once again for­got­ten the key. But in­stead of Richard, a po­lice­man stood at her door.

	”Are you Mrs. T.?“

	Laura nod­ded, won­der­ing and wor­ry­ing. She let the man in.

	”You‘d bet­ter sit down. I have some bad news for you. Your hus­band was in­volved in an ac­ci­dent a little while ago. I‘m sorry, but he was killed.“

	At first she couldn‘t take it in. Richard—dead! It was im­possible, the whole thing was some kind of macabre joke. He couldn‘t be dead, he just couldn‘t be.

	The next two weeks passed by with Laura in a daze. Her sis­ter had come to stay with her, to give her moral sup­port and prac­tical help. There was the fu­neral to be ar­ranged, the house to be sold, and her five-year-old son Ricky to take care of. With her sis­ter‘s help, the days sped by filled with legal and prac­tical prob­lems.

	All the same, there was noth­ing her sis­ter could do to ease the ache in the long, lonely nights. Sob­bing her heart out, she drif­ted off to sleep, only to be awakened minutes later with the know­ledge that Richard was not there and would never be back again.

	Ly­ing in bed, Laura could al­most feel the touch of Richard‘s hands on her breasts, his lips upon hers, their tongues slip­ping in and out of each oth­ers‘ mouths. And most of all, the feel of Richard‘s body on top of her, his prick deeply bur­ied in her body and the won­der­ful re­lease when they spiraled into an or­gasm, al­ways com­ing at the same time.

	As Laura sat there in a trance, the movers began to bring in her fur­niture. She looked at it, re­mem­ber­ing still more. Richard‘s fa­vor­ite chair, his chest of draw­ers, now to be used for Ricky, and the bed they had made love in so many times. So many things were miss­ing, things that couldn‘t fit into a small two-bed­room apart­ment. Friends had sug­ges­ted that Laura would be bet­ter off get­ting rid of the things that es­pe­cially re­minded her of Richard.

	”Bet­ter off? Why? I don‘t want to for­get him. He was my hus­band and I loved him very much. Do you think that sleep­ing in a dif­fer­ent bed will take away the pain of not hav­ing him next to me? Noth­ing will ever do that.“

	The movers worked fast, filling the apart­ment mak­ing it look more like home. After they left, Laura un­packed a little, put­ting sen­ti­mental knick-knacks in place. The babysit­ter was due to bring Ricky back soon and she wanted their new home to look as com­fort­able as pos­sible.

	When Ricky ar­rived, Laura was sit­ting on the couch in an at­tempt to re­lax. The little boy was be­wildered by all the changes that had come so fast. He didn‘t un­der­stand about death.

	”Mommy, why did Daddy have to go away?“ he asked.

	”Be­cause God needed him up in heaven, Ricky.“ Laura tried to an­swer his ques­tions with pa­tience but it was al­most as hard for her to un­der­stand as it was for Ricky.

	”I don‘t think it was very nice of him to go.“ He sat in Laura‘s lap and snuggled his head against her breasts. ”Mommy, I‘ll never leave you. I‘ll stay here al­ways and take care of you. Can I?“

	”Oh, yes, dear. Ricky, I love you so much. You‘re the only thing I have left in the world. Don‘t ever leave me.“

	”I won‘t, Mommy. We can al­ways stay to­gether, just the two of us. I‘ll take care of you. We don‘t need any­one else at all.“

	One of the main so­ci­olo­gical causes of in­cest is that a fam­ily can be­come so tightly closed to out­siders that the in­di­vidu­als find it dif­fi­cult, if not im­possible, to de­velop and cul­tiv­ate re­la­tion­ships out­side the fam­ily it­self.

	The close bond between moth­ers and sons is a well-known fact. In a nor­mal at­mo­sphere, with other chil­dren and a hus­band to take care of, the son real­izes that he can­not have the mother all to him­self. In a fath­er­less home, it is es­pe­cially im­port­ant for the son to have a wide range of ac­quaint­ances. He also needs men around him so that he can de­velop an im­age of how he should be­have. A weak mas­cu­line im­age of­ten res­ults in ho­mo­sexu­al­ity. No male im­age at all, along with a close re­la­tion­ship to the mother, can res­ult in in­cest.


CASE HIS­TORY

	After be­ing wid­owed for five years, Laura wrote the fol­low­ing let­ter to her sis­ter.

	”Dear May, I have all kinds of news. To­mor­row night, for the first time since Richard died, I am go­ing out with a man. His name is Bill, he‘s about my age and di­vorced. We are go­ing out to din­ner and then to a show. I feel like a teen-ager again, all ex­cited about a first date.

	”I still love Richard and I al­ways will. But a memory is not enough to live on for the rest of my life. I need com­pan­ion­ship and he seems very nice. The hell with it, I can be frank writ­ing to you. I need sex and that‘s all there is to it.

	”I can‘t seem to help my­self. Every time I see a man, even walk­ing down the street, I start to won­der how he would be in bed. So be­fore I rape the jan­itor or make a fool out of my­self in some other way, I‘ll try dat­ing. I‘m tired of the frus­tra­tion. Re­mem­ber when we were about thir­teen and I couldn‘t make my­self come, no mat­ter how long I diddled my clit? Well, I still can‘t. And God knows I‘ve tried of­ten enough.

	”Be­sides, I‘m only thirty-two. That‘s much too young to just close shop. I sup­pose my mind will al­ways miss Richard and mourn for him but my body just can‘t.

	”For Ricky‘s sake I sup­pose I should marry again. I haven‘t told him about my date yet, let it be a sur­prise. He‘s such an an­gel. Hon­estly, he tries so hard to be the man of the house. He even goes over the bills with me. And he al­most never goes out so that I won‘t have to be alone. He tries hard to take his father‘s place but there are just some things he can‘t sup­ply. Love, Laura.“

	”Ricky dear,“ she told her son the next day, ”I have a sur­prise for you.“

	”Oh, good. Are we go­ing some­where neat?“

	”No dear. You know Bill, the man who lives up­stairs? To­night he is go­ing to take me out to din­ner and then to a show. Isn‘t that nice?“

	”Can I go too?“ Ricky had al­ways gone every­where with his mother.

	”No, but you can stay up an hour later and watch tele­vi­sion. I‘ll get you a big bag of potato chips and some soda. If you want to you can in­vite one of your friends over.“

	”I don‘t have any friends. You‘re go­ing to leave me here all alone,“ the boy sobbed.

	”I thought you were too old for a babysit­ter. Mrs. Grant down­stairs will help you if any­thing hap­pens. You‘re such a big boy. I thought you would like to take care of your­self for a little while.“

	”Why are you go­ing out with him? You could take me to the show. What do you need him for? I take care of you and all. I don‘t want you to go.“ At that, Ricky burst into tears and ran from the room.

	Without fully real­iz­ing how in­tense Ricky‘s feel­ings were, Laura fol­lowed him into his room and tried to ex­plain.

	”Ricky, you know I love you very much. But darling, you‘re only ten years old. Since your father died I haven‘t had any men friends at all. When people get older they need friends of all kinds. We‘re al­ways to­gether. Do you mind so very much if I go out just for a few hours?“

	”You don‘t need him. You have me. I wouldn‘t leave you alone like that.“

	”I know how re­spons­ible you are Ricky. You should make other friends, boys and girls your own age. Now just settle down and re­lax. I know you‘ll like Bill once you get to know him.“

	”I won‘t. I‘ll hate him forever. He‘s try­ing to take you away from me.“

	”Ricky, that‘s silly. No mat­ter what hap­pens I‘ll al­ways be your mother and love you very much. Now dry your eyes and act like the little man I know you are.“ Laura left the room feel­ing wor­ried. She hadn‘t ex­pec­ted Ricky‘s in­tense jeal­ousy. Oh, well, she thought to her­self, he‘ll get over it. He just has to have time to get used to the idea.

	Ricky spent the af­ter­noon si­lently in his room. Laura was so busy pre­par­ing for her date that she didn‘t no­tice. She took a long bath, soak­ing in sweet-smelling bath oils. As she lay there, she looked over her ripe, lush fig­ure and knew that it couldn‘t fail to please Bill.

	As her hands went over her body she con­sidered the pos­sib­il­it­ies. She hoped that Bill would make a pass at her. Know­ing that she wouldn‘t be able to res­ist his caresses troubled her a little. She didn‘t want him to think that she was a tramp. But she had been without a man so long that there was an ac­tual phys­ical ache deep in­side her cunt. She wanted the feel of a prick there so badly that it hurt.

	Laura dressed quickly, cooked din­ner for Ricky and was just put­ting on the last touches of her makeup when Bill ar­rived. She had bought a new dress with a plunging neck­line for the oc­ca­sion which set off her curves very well. Bill‘s quick look and smile con­vinced her that she had done right. She grabbed her purse and got ready to leave.

	”Ricky, we‘re go­ing now. Do you want to come and meet Bill?“

	”No. I hate him. He‘s tak­ing you away from me.

	”This is my first date since Ricky‘s father died and he‘s a little up­set,“ she ex­plained to Bill. ”I‘m sure he‘ll ad­just soon.“

	After a lovely even­ing full of fun and laughter Bill brought Laura home.

	”I‘d ask you in for a drink but I don‘t want to wake up Ricky,“ she told him. But the way she was look­ing at him, full of long­ing and sexual ex­cite­ment, told him even more.

	”Then why don‘t we go up to my place for a night­cap?“ As soon as they stepped in­side Bill‘s dimly lit apart­ment he kissed her pas­sion­ately. Their arms were around each other as their bod­ies pressed closer to­gether.

	The heat of their new­found pas­sion was in­tense as it sent out a bright flame that en­gulfed them both. It had been a long time for both of them. As he held Laura in his arms they could both feel the strength of his man­hood rising up and press­ing against the wo­man‘s body. Then he held her back away from him so that he could see her face. His eyes looked out at her, full of long­ing and doubt.

	”Yes, darling, yes. Don‘t stop, don‘t ever stop.“ Laura answered the un­spoken ques­tion with a des­per­ate voice. Her body, tense with the pas­sion that was ra­cing through her veins, moved closer to Bill.

	He took her in his arms once more and they re­sumed their fevered kiss­ing. His hands roamed her soft body, paus­ing at the top of her cleav­age. Laura gave a low moan as Bill un­zipped her dress and looked down at her breasts, rising out of the thin lace of her low-cut bra. As his lips traveled down he un­hooked the wisp of lace and bur­ied his face in her tits. He kissed them slowly, work­ing closer and closer to her flushed nipples which were already taut with de­sire.

	Lick­ing and suck­ing her cherry-topped mounds, his hands traveled down to the tri­angle of dark hair between her legs. Feel­ing his touch, she opened her legs wide ex­pos­ing her sweet wet cunny. His fin­gers touched her gently, rub­bing her lust en­gorged clit un­til she was wild with de­sire.

	Her hands raked over his body, pulling and tug­ging his clothes off. Laura held his cock in her hand and ran her fin­gers across the purple knob. It felt so good to her to feel the strength of a hard prick in her hand once again.

	Still hold­ing onto his thick rod, she lay back and guided it down to her hot wet pussy. Her body was on fire and her cunt was aching for the feel of his hard­ness deep in­side her body.

	He plunged him­self into her with one hard thrust. Her cunt was tight and fit his prick like a glove. Laura lay back and let the waves of pas­sion sweep over her. As Bill moved up and down on her soft­ness she moved with him, wrap­ping her long legs around his back so that she could feel every inch of his power­ful man­hood.

	Again and again he dove into her caldron of heat. They went at each other like an­im­als who had been de­prived for much too long. Her nails raked his back un­til they drew blood and he loved it. He poun­ded into her as hard and fast as he could, go­ing up and down and in and out like an air ham­mer. And she matched every fast thrust with one of her own.

	With mi­ra­cu­lous self-con­trol, Bill kept on pump­ing. His body wanted to ex­plode but at the same time didn‘t want to leave the won­der­ful soft wet­ness that was en­vel­op­ing him.

	As they fucked, Bill rose up and bur­ied his face in her tits once again, first suck­ing one ripe nipple and then the other, driv­ing Laura into a frenzy. Her arms were hold­ing him tight, not want­ing to let go. Her fin­gers and hands caressed the cheeks of his ass and worked down to his balls. She cupped them in her hands, feel­ing the sweet pres­sure as they bounced up and down.

	He bit into her nipple and she screamed with pleas­ure, want­ing him to bite and suck harder, to draw her whole body into him some­how. Her cunt began to spasm un­con­trol­lably. Her pussy lips tugged and sucked on his cock, grabbing and then re­leas­ing him so quickly that they couldn‘t tell the dif­fer­ence.

	As much as he wanted to stay in­side her, fuck her for the rest of his life, the pres­sure on his cock from her cunt was too much. He thrust him­self into her, harder and faster un­til he felt his re­lease. His cream flowed into her, deep in­side her body, warm­ing all of her with his heat.

	Feel­ing his jism flood­ing her pas­sion pit, all the stored up pleas­ure in­side her erup­ted like a vol­cano. She tossed and turned and moved as her pussy held onto his cock as though she had teeth. She never wanted him out and tried, with her whole body, to keep his hard prick in­side her.

	When it was all over, they clung tightly to each other, know­ing that they had some­thing won­der­ful and hop­ing that the feel­ing would stay with them.

	”Bill, it‘s get­ting late and I‘m a little wor­ried about Ricky be­ing alone for so long.“ So the lov­ers dressed quickly and Bill walked Laura back to her apart­ment. The lights were all burn­ing but Ricky wasn‘t there. On the table was a note.

	”Bill, listen to this. Oh, my God. ‚Dear Mom, You don‘t need me any more so I‘m go­ing away. Ricky.‘ Bill, where can he be? It‘s al­most two in the morn­ing. What should we do?“

	They called the po­lice and spent the night drink­ing cof­fee and wor­ry­ing.

	”It‘s my fault, I know it is. He was so un­happy when I told him I was go­ing out. Oh, I never should have gone. If any­thing has happened to him it will be my fault. Where can he be?“

	”Laura, just re­lax. The po­lice are do­ing their best to find him. You know that. I‘m sure he‘ll be all right. Why don‘t you get some sleep?“

	”Sleep? How the hell could I sleep? You go on home Bill. You can sleep to­night. Please go, I‘ll be all right.“ Feel­ing a little like a heel but very tired, Bill left.

	At eight o‘clock in the morn­ing the po­lice brought Ricky home. He had spent the night in the hall of a nearby apart­ment build­ing.

	”Oh Ricky, how could you do that to me? I was so wor­ried about you. Darling, don‘t ever run off like that again.“

	”I thought you didn‘t need me any­more,“ the boy sobbed. ”You left me alone and went out. Please don‘t do that. I‘m sorry. But don‘t ever leave me.“

	”I won‘t, son. I prom­ise you I won‘t.“ Sob­bing, they held each other tight.

	At fif­teen, Ricky looked much older. His shoulders were broad and his muscles well de­veloped. Be­cause of his sober air of re­spons­ib­il­ity, he was con­sidered to be very ma­ture for his age.

	Laura doted on him. Al­though she was close to forty she looked like a wo­man in her middle twen­ties. And her ac­tions fit her youth­ful­ness. As she of­ten told her friends, with a great deal of pride, Ricky was more like a friend than a son. Since her brief fling with Bill she hadn‘t had an­other date. For months after the en­counter she des­per­ately wanted an­other man. She dis­covered that if she had a few drinks the sharp edge of her de­sire was dulled. She was rarely com­pletely sober.

	One day after school, Ricky found his mother in her room, sob­bing bit­terly.

	”Mom, what‘s the mat­ter?“

	”Noth­ing. Everything. You wouldn‘t un­der­stand. Oh, the hell with it. I need a man. Do you un­der­stand? A man, with a cock between his legs.“ As she spoke, her voice rose un­til she was al­most hys­ter­ical.

	”But you have me. You don‘t need any­one else and neither do I. I‘ll take care of you.“ Ricky put his arms around Laura and held her close.

	In a daze, without real­iz­ing just what she was do­ing, Laura took her son and held him, press­ing her body firmly against his young man­hood. In a mo­ment their bod­ies were wel­ded tightly to­gether. The mother, for­get­ting everything be­cause of th sen­sa­tion of hav­ing a man in her arms once more began kiss­ing her son. Her tongue probed open his lips and licked the in­side of his mouth, dart­ing in and out as fast as a snake.

	Ricky‘s mind was con­fused but his body wasn‘t. His cock stiffened up as he and Laura lay back on her bed. Laura pulled him down on top of her. His heavy body felt good as his thick cock pressed against her love starved body. In a frenzy of pas­sion, Laura tore off their clothes and lay back on the bed with her legs spread wide open, re­veal­ing the glisten­ing dewy lips of her cunt. Shout­ing in­co­her­ently, she took her son‘s prick in her hand and led it to her warm, wet slit. She thrust him in­side as he climbed on top of her. Over­whelmed by the sweet pleas­ure flow­ing through his body, Ricky moved up and down, thrust­ing his stick in and out of her soft­ness.

	Un­able to con­trol him­self, he thrust him­self into her as hard and as fast as he could un­til he ex­ploded in­side her, spill­ing his thick cream deep in­side her cunt. Laura moaned as her body went wild. She cli­maxed again and again, hold­ing and squeez­ing Ricky‘s cock with every new ex­plo­sion. Fi­nally ex­hausted, she fell asleep.

	Hours later she awoke to find Ricky still in her bed, sleep­ing soundly. Re­mem­ber­ing what had happened, she began to tremble and shake. A scream began deep in­side her body and erup­ted, so loud and shrill that most of the other people in the apart­ment build­ing heard it. Ricky jumped up and saw his mother look­ing down at him with a dazed, blank look in her eyes.

	”My God,“ she moaned, ”what have I done? What can I do now? Ricky, what‘s go­ing to hap­pen me?“

	Put­ting his arms around her, the boy whispered, ”Don‘t worry about any­thing, mother. I‘m here. I‘ll take care of you.“ He held her close and rocked her back and forth as though she were a baby. ”I‘ll take care of you.“

	Six years later, after Ricky fin­ished col­lege, he and Laura moved to an­other town. Their neigh­bors and friends think they are mar­ried and of­ten won­der why such a good-look­ing young man mar­ried a wo­man who was so much older. If Ricky and Laura are lucky, they will never find out.


CHAPTER EL­EVEN

	In many cases of men­tal ill­ness, cause and ef­fect are dif­fi­cult to sep­ar­ate. Those cases in­volving in­cest are doubly dif­fi­cult. Was an in­ces­tu­ous re­la­tion­ship a symp­tom of an emo­tional dis­turb­ance? Or did the guilt and other feel­ings arising from the re­la­tion­ship cause the per­son to de­velop prob­lems?

	Through many case stud­ies, we have found that in the ma­jor­ity of in­cid­ents, the in­ces­tu­ous re­la­tion­ship was merely a symp­tom of a greater prob­lem.

	John L. Was dis­covered hav­ing in­ter­course with his sis­ter Jill by their mother. John was eight­een; Jill was six­teen. Im­me­di­ately after the dis­cov­ery John went into a cata­tonic state. Mrs. L. Learned from her daugh­ter that John had forced her to sub­mit to his ad­vances by threat­en­ing her. The girl re­fused to dis­cuss ex­actly what kind of threats were in­volved.

	After a great deal of dis­cus­sion, the L.‘s com­mit­ted their son to a men­tal hos­pital. The boy was ex­tremely un­re­spons­ive to treat­ment at first, re­fus­ing to speak to any­one. Hop­ing to find a clue to the boy‘s dis­turb­ance, the doc­tor sup­plied him with pa­per and pen, ex­plain­ing to him that he could write any­thing that came into his head.

	John began to write, and kept up his di­ary through­out his treat­ment. The entries were not dated al­though it was writ­ten over a period of six months. Ex­cept for re­pe­ti­tions we present it in its en­tirety, hop­ing that it will shed fur­ther light on our study of in­cest.

	”Shit. Those bas­tards put my ass in a bug­house for a piece of gash. Then the mother­fuck­ers want to hear all about it. I won­der how much they get. I can just see that creepy shrink fuck­ing his wife. If he could get one. They just want to hear all about it. They sit there and tell me to talk to them. Why the fuck should I? Nosy bas­tards.

	”Just to get things straight, right from the start, there isn‘t a damn thing the mat­ter with me. Noth­ing at all.

	”I got sick of be­ing such a good boy. That‘s what she al­ways said. I have such a nice son, so well be­haved. And such an an­gel daugh­ter. Shit. All the time I get thrown at me what a sweet kid Jill is. When she‘s spread­ing her legs for every stud around. But they don‘t know that. They don‘t know what kind of a trampy daugh­ter they have. I would‘ve told them, too. Told them all about their sweet an­gel. Yeah, she tastes sweet all right, es­pe­cially between her legs. Her gash is red and wet and hot, hot for any­one.

	”I won­der what the hell she tells them about me now. Her aw­ful brother. As though she didn‘t like it. I can re­mem­ber her squeals and moans when I rammed my prick in­side her. And the way her red-hot cunt worked over it while she came. I‘ll bet she don‘t tell them any­thing about that. No sir, little an­gels don‘t fuck.

	”These fuck­ing doc­tors, al­ways want­ing to know all about how things were when you were a kid. I can tell you—lousy. My old man‘s an ass, that‘s for sure. I used to hear him, whin­ing and beg­ging my mother to let him slip it in her. And she just told the poor old fart that he didn‘t have any re­spect for her. As if that has any­thing to do with it.

	”But that was the big thing. All wo­men go up on some kind of ped­es­tal. You can look but don‘t touch. Hell, I re­mem­ber when I was a little kid and tried to give my mother a big kiss. Even then she wasn‘t hav­ing any. Oh, no, I might get her pre­cious clothes wrinkled.

	”I‘d like to shit all over her clothes, even now. Take one of her fancy dresses and let loose a big fat turd on it. Then rub it in, get it all over the dress un­til it‘s all brown and shitty. Then let her put it on. Just let her know that some­thing real is hap­pen­ing, that people do shit and not very po­litely go to the little boy‘s room or little girl‘s room.

	”Some­times I think I‘d like to shit on her. Right on her na­ked body. On her tits; yeah, that‘s it. Plant a load right between them and rub it all over her boobs, turn­ing them all brown and mushy and dirty. Then I‘d take some and smear it in her clean cunt. Let her know it‘s there for a reason, not just to pee out of and keep clean.

	”The half-assed doc­tor wants to know when I heard about sex. I guess he means fuck­ing but it‘s hard to tell. They act like they‘re afraid of words like that around here. Oh, it‘s all right for me to bad mouth and talk about fuck­ing and cunts but they won‘t dirty their lips. The hell with them.

	”Any­way, who knows when I learned about sex? Not me, that‘s for sure. My folks sure didn‘t tell me much. Oh, after I already knew that a guy rams a girl and drops his load in­side of her they gave me a sweet, po­lite little talk on how it just wasn‘t nice. I felt like ask­ing them how the hell I got born. Did they do some­thing that dirty?

	”That‘s what I‘d really like to know. Just how did my sweet mother feel when my old man shoved it into her? In and out, just as hard as he could, and all the time hav­ing to look at her prune face. She prob­ably just lay there look­ing blank while the poor sucker kept giv­ing it to her. Twice, they did it, once for me and once for Jill. Two kids is a nice num­ber, we don‘t have to do it again. Hell, I can hear her say­ing that just like they were next to me. I can even see them if I close my eyes and lay back. What a couple of as­sholes they were.

	”But for a hell of a long time I be­lieved their crap. It was nice be­ing such a good boy and hav­ing such a sweet sis­ter. Yeah. The model kids. I never even took a girl out un­til I was al­most sev­en­teen. And then I must have seemed like a real jerk.

	”Her name was Isa­bel and she was built like a brick shit­house. Boobs out to there. She bounced all over the place, she was so big. And a cute little ass on her, too. When she walked she really shook it. Just look­ing at her made my prick feel like screw­ing her. So I asked her for a date.

	”Right be­fore I left, my mother had a little talk with me. She told me to be very nice to the girl so she would like me. And some shit about not try­ing to kiss her on the first date be­cause that wasn‘t po­lite. I might in­sult the chick and of course I didn‘t want to do that.

	”By the time I picked her up I was go­ing nuts. Hell, I was so scared I felt like I had to take a leak every other minute. I took her to a show and spent most of the time try­ing not to stare at her tits. I wanted to hold her hand but I was too chick­en­shit to even do that. But she knew what was hap­pen­ing. She put her hand on my leg right above the knee. I al­most jumped out of my skin. I didn‘t know what the fuck to do so I just gave her a weird look. She took her hand away.

	”After the show I took her right home, just like mamma said. Out­side her door my body was just aching to kiss her, hold her, feel her tits pressed against me. So what did I do? Not a damned thing. I thanked her for the good time and went home. She wouldn‘t talk to me after that. I heard later that she was faster‘n hell and figured a date without fuck­ing was just a waste of time. But it was too late then.

	”That night I jacked off. I didn‘t do it too of­ten—just when things got really rough. It was great, watch­ing my cock swell up till it was big and hard. It felt so good to just keep rub­bing it and touch­ing it un­til I creamed all over the place. Then I got scared. What if mother saw my messy, smelly sheets? She would know I‘d creamed all over the place. What could I do? She would think I was some kind of sex fiend.

	”I watched Jill grow­ing up. She got pret­tier every day. When I first saw her tits be­gin to sprout I couldn‘t be­lieve it. She had al­ways been such a little kid. We got along and shit like that. We were both such good kids, that‘s why.

	”Her boobs got big, as big as Isa­bel‘s, be­fore I knew it. Shit, when that kid was fif­teen she could have passed for twenty. Or even older. And you‘d bet­ter be­lieve all the guys were after her. She had more dates than she could keep track of. And be­fore each one of them, my folks had to meet the boy, to give him a good cross-ex­am­in­a­tion. How old are you? What does your father do? Do you have any hob­bies? What they really wanted to know was whether or not he was go­ing to try fuck­ing their daugh­ter. But they never asked that.

	”She had me fooled too. I never even thought that any of those guys kissed her or any­thing. I thought she was pure and sweet and in­no­cent. The only nice girl in the world. But she wasn‘t. She could spread her legs just as well as any other broad, maybe even bet­ter.

	”The first time I thought there might be some funny busi­ness go­ing on was one night when she came home from a date. After every­one was sup­posed to be asleep, she barged into my room and woke me up. She wanted to hear all about the movie she was sup­posed to have seen. Mother al­ways wanted to hear all about them, not be­cause she sus­pec­ted a damned thing. But she never went and Jill has a funny way of telling stor­ies. I don‘t.

	”I star­ted telling her and then I asked her why she wanted to know. She got a funny look on her face and her eyes got small as a weasel‘s. She muttered some­thing about how they de­cided to go to a party in­stead and she hadn‘t felt like call­ing home. That‘s a thing about my folks—they have to know where you are every minute of the whole damned day.

	”The next morn­ing at break­fast she told them the bit about the movie and they laughed and looked pleased with their darling daugh­ter. But I got to think­ing. Jill had lied to them. She hadn‘t wanted them to know where she had been. If she lied, then she couldn‘t be such a nice girl.

	”That was when I got my bril­liant idea. I de­cided to fol­low her for a while, just like a de­tect­ive. I had to know what the hell she was up to. If she wasn‘t nice, why the hell should I be? If she could kiss and crap around with guys, I should be do­ing the same thing with girls. It didn‘t even cross my mind then that she was go­ing any fur­ther than that.

	”So the next time she went out, I told my folks I was go­ing to a show. I left be­fore they did, her and her boy­friend, and parked up the street. Then I fol­lowed them. I knew they were sup­posed to be go­ing ice skat­ing. After they passed the edge of town, I knew that wasn‘t where they were headed. But I just about shit when I saw them stop at a shady motel out­side of town. That meant only one thing—that my sis­ter was go­ing to spread her legs for that guy. I sat in the car for the longest time, pic­tur­ing that bas­tard on top of her, hot and heavy. I could al­most see him thrust his cock into her, run­ning it in and out of Jill‘s body. When I saw him come I sort of blanked out for a few minutes.

	”I stayed there in the car, sit­ting and think­ing about her cunt and his cock, her pussy with his prick in­side of it, his rod ram­ming her gash. The words kept go­ing through my mind, cunt, pussy, snatch, gash, tramp, whore, easy lay, piece of ass—and they all meant my sis­ter. My sweet sis­ter who couldn‘t do a damn thing wrong.

	”They came out two hours later. The bas­tard she was with looked like he had the time of his life in there with Miss In­no­cence. And she looked like the rot­ten pig she was. Her hair was still messed up a little and she wasn‘t walk­ing straight. I could just ima­gine his come slowly drip­ping out of her cunt in drops—drip, drop, drip, drop, un­til it was all gone. Then get­ting washed down the drain as the an­gel rinsed her little panties out be­fore she went to bed. When she star­ted do­ing that, my mother made such a big deal out of it. If she only knew the reason why.

	”I didn‘t sleep much that night. I tried to fig­ure out what to do. I wanted to tell my mother what a tramp her little an­gel was. Jill gets fucked, kept go­ing around and around in my head un­til I couldn‘t stand it. I wanted to run out of my room and scream it, yell it so loud that all the neigh­bors could hear me. Then maybe I could be nor­mal.

	”I wanted to fuck a girl so bad that it was all I thought about. Every time a cute chick walked by I felt like tak­ing her in my arms and kiss­ing her, and rub­bing her tits and feel­ing her gash. But I couldn‘t. They might be nice. And what would they do then? Scream and run. I wouldn‘t get my stick in­side them at all. I didn‘t know who was nice any­more. I thought Jill was but she was just a tramp. What if all girls were tramps? I could be fuck­ing a girl every night. But I couldn‘t tell the dif­fer­ence. What is the dif­fer­ence?

	”The fuck­ing doc­tors keep ask­ing my why I fucked my sis­ter. They don‘t know about her yet. I might tell them some­time, or maybe not. If they knew they would un­der­stand. Jill is the only girl I‘m sure of. I knew she wasn‘t nice. She was just an easy lay for a lot of guys. I was too chicken to try to fuck a girl who might be nice. With Jill I knew.

	”I‘ll never for­get the first time I screwed her. They were out, at some frig­ging PTA meet­ing. I walked into the little bitch‘s room and told her I was go­ing to fuck her. She just laughed at me. She sat there on the bed and laughed. I fixed her all right. I gave her a slap that left a mark across her cheek for hours. Then I told her she was noth­ing but a dirty little tramp. Since she was put­ting out for any­one else, why should I be ex­cluded? She muttered some­thing about my be­ing her brother and shit like that. I told her to can it. Then I told her if she didn‘t put out I would tell them just what she was. That scared the hell out of her, I‘ll tell you.

	”I got on the bed and stripped off all her clothes. I‘d never seen a na­ked girl be­fore and I‘d been miss­ing out on a lot. Her tits were like mel­ons, ripe and juicy. I took them in my hands and played with them, watch­ing her nipples get all hard. I sucked on them a little and that‘s when the change came over her. She gave a little moan and re­laxed, spread­ing her legs wide open.

	”I stared at her a lot, that first time. I wanted to see everything, her bare tits, her furry patch, and the in­side of her cunt. It was red and hot and wet—a good gash. A ripe, red slit that was wait­ing for me to dive in­side.

	”I was hard then, hard and ready to slip it to her. I got out of my clothes and played around with her some more. I sucked on her tits and bit them hard and she still liked it. She liked everything I did to her, es­pe­cially when I covered her cunt with my hand and pressed down.

	”I played around, rub­bing her pussy hard. While I was do­ing it, I felt her love-but­ton get hard and swollen, reach­ing up to my fin­gers like a little cock.

	”While I was do­ing that, I kept my mouth fastened on her tit. Her nipples were red and hard and looked just like twin straw­ber­ries on top moun­tains of cream. And her gash—hell, I could feel it move and twitch un­der my hand.

	”She‘d stopped fight­ing me by then and took my cock in her hand. It sure felt dif­fer­ent than when I did it my­self. Her fin­gers were so soft and she fluttered them down the length of my shaft. She even went round back and gave my balls a few squeezes. That drove me wild.

	”I could tell she was ready for me—shit, her cunt was drip­ping juice all over the place. God, did she ever have a gushy slit. I loved the feel of it and the look of it and everything about it. I just wanted to keep on touch­ing it forever, it felt that good.

	”My cock wanted the same thing, to sink my meat down into her, deep in­side her cunny. She wanted it too, I know she did. Her hand kept try­ing to drag my prick down to her slit, try­ing to get me in­side of her. The little tramp, will­ing to let any cock get down there between her legs.

	”So I got on top of her and slipped it in. I al­most creamed right then, it felt so good. It was wet and soft and mushy and warm and all that wet soft­ness was wrapped all around my cock. I just kept still for a while so I could feel her all around me.

	”I star­ted hump­ing, go­ing faster and faster with every stroke. Run­ning in and out of her pussy, in and out and in and out feel­ing her soft­ness grab me every time I plunged it in.

	”I looked at her trampy face as I did it. She lay there with her mouth open breath­ing hard, look­ing just like the pig I knew she was. But I had done it too, I was fuck­ing a girl. I wasn‘t any nicer than she was and that made me feel good. We were the same and I was in­side of her, feel­ing her cunt around me.

	”I didn‘t last a hell of a long time, that first time we fucked. I wanted to, to stay in­side her cunny and never leave, but I couldn‘t. So I poun­ded it into her, harder and harder un­til I came. I spur­ted all my cream in­side her and slowly went limp. But she just didn‘t stop. Her hole kept on get­ting big and little around my cock, grabbing it like she had teeth in­side of her.

	”Her face was some­thing else. She looked like some­thing was hurt­ing her like hell but I knew it wasn‘t. She kept on com­ing and com­ing, the little bitch. Suck­ing my cock deep in­side her like it was hers and she could do whatever the hell she wanted to with it. She loved it, just loved the whole thing.

	”The shrinks are still after me to tell them every damn thing. It‘s get­ting easier, sort of. But it‘s still hard to an­swer everything. Like how of­ten I fucked Jill. As if I was the only one get­ting into her pants.

	”I don‘t know how of­ten I slipped it in­side her. Whenever I got the chance. They didn‘t go out too of­ten—my folks are any­thing but swing­ers. And Jill was dumb as hell about it all, too. She came and she loved to get fucked but every damn time I went near her she gave me a big hassle. A lot of crap about how broth­ers and sis­ters shouldn‘t do it with each other. Shit, it wasn‘t like I was the only one.

	”Even with all her lip I got it in. Hell, she was like a bitch in heat. As soon as I star­ted play­ing around with her tits or did­dling her clit she for­got all that crap. She spread her legs wide open and waited for me, wanted me to climb on top of her and fuck her and fuck her and fuck her till she came and screamed and yelled and squeezed my cock. If you want to know the frig­ging truth, that was all she cared about, get­ting fucked. Some nice girl. Some sweet little an­gel. But I showed them. I showed all of them.

	”I wanted them to know just what kind of sweet kids they had. My mother thought it was some kind of ac­ci­dent that she caught us. Well, let her think that, I don‘t care. She‘ll never know that I wanted her to see it.

	”I picked a time when I knew she wouldn‘t be gone long. I lied to Jill and rubbed her tits and she didn‘t care any­more any­way. I took a long time get­ting her ready, stalling as long as I could. Then I climbed on and banged her, all the while think­ing that soon they would know. They would really get the mes­sage when they walked in and found me on top of her, balling her as hard as I could.

	”She came in and found us all right. As soon as I saw her I went into some kind of daze. I wanted to scream at her, to tell her what kinds of good kids she had. But I couldn‘t. I just couldn‘t say a god­damn thing. So I sat there and told her in my mind. I yelled and screamed and shouted but no one could hear me. Shit, I didn‘t care. I just didn‘t give a damn. She saw us so she knew. That was all I cared about, as long as she knew.

	”This morn­ing I fi­nally said it out loud. I told that man that I hate my mother. That cold, wet baggy bitch. She never wanted a real kid. She didn‘t want me or Jill or any­one else, not even my dad. Hell, she‘s just been play­ing with us, mak­ing us into the kind of people she thought her kids should be. It didn‘t mat­ter what we were—she wanted sweet, nice sex­less things just like her­self. She stopped my dad from hav­ing fun and she tried to stop me. And Jill.

	”And my dad—I hate him too, for let­ting her get away with it. He could have stopped her some­how, turned her into a wo­man in­stead of a ma­chine. But I guess she fooled him too. Made him think he should be nice and sex­less. That‘s what she thinks nice is—sex­less.

	”I‘ve been think­ing. Maybe Jill isn‘t really an aw­ful tramp. Or a bad per­son. I know now that sex isn‘t a bad, evil thing. She just learned it sooner and easier than I did. Maybe it‘s easier for a girl since she has so many guys after her. Why shouldn‘t she fuck if she wants to? It‘s a good thing and it feels nice. As long as she can take care of her­self and not get knocked up it‘s none of my busi­ness.

	”I don‘t think I want to fuck her any­more though. There must be plenty of other girls around. Nice girls, not tramps, who just aren‘t all hung up about sex. Girls who don‘t think it‘s evil and bad. I don‘t think too many girls do think that way.

	”I might be leav­ing here soon. I hope so. If and when I do, I‘m not go­ing back home, to be my mother‘s nice boy. I‘ll get a job and find a small place of my own. I‘m old enough to take care of my­self now. And after I get settled, or maybe even be­fore, I‘ll find a girl. And then maybe I‘ll be happy.“

	Soon after this last entry, John was re­leased from the hos­pital. He found a job in a de­part­ment store and is go­ing to school at night. He lives alone in a small apart­ment and dates oc­ca­sion­ally. Al­though he still has some prob­lems from time to time, he is ad­just­ing quite well.


CHAPTER TWELVE

	Linda yawned and stretched, pulling the blanket off to ex­pose her per­fectly formed breasts. A smile flit­ted across her face as she thought about Mark. She had been dat­ing him for only a week but she felt sure that he liked her a great deal.

	Not bad for a thirty-seven year old broad, she thought. He‘s sexy and smart and loaded. I‘m not go­ing to kid my­self, either. If he didn‘t have a dime I don‘t think I‘d bother. But I‘m sick and tired of be­ing poor, hav­ing to scrimp and scrape for every penny I get. It‘s not fair, hasn‘t been for the past thir­teen years. But it looks like my luck is chan­ging. And it‘s about time.

	Her mind briefly went back over her past. She had grown up in poverty. Her father was a lazy bum who couldn‘t hold onto a job for more than a few weeks at a time. The only thing it seemed like he could do well was get her mother preg­nant every year.

	Linda‘s child­hood had been glum but not des­per­ate. Some­how the fam­ily had stayed to­gether, in spite of the lack of money. Dur­ing the de­pres­sion every­one had had it tough. But grow­ing up she had re­sen­ted the life her par­ents had given her. More than any­thing else, she wanted to feel se­cure, to know there would al­ways be enough to eat with money left over to have heat and light. She bit­terly re­membered the days spent huddled in bed with her broth­ers and sis­ters try­ing to keep warm.

	Against all odds, she man­aged to fin­ish high school and hold down a job look­ing after chil­dren after school. It was then that she real­ized that life could be sweet.

	The people she worked for weren‘t rich, but to Linda they seemed like mil­lion­aires. They had a house and could af­ford to pay someone else for look­ing after their chil­dren. There was an abund­ance of food and the home was al­ways warm and neat.

	That the home was not happy was un­im­port­ant to Linda. The par­ents fought, the chil­dren were spoiled and con­stantly whin­ing and fuss­ing. But in view of the won­der­ful place, all the prob­lems went un­noticed.

	Linda was ex­cep­tion­ally pretty, with long blond hair and blue eyes. Her body was su­perb. Her breasts were large and firm, her legs long and slim, and all the boys in the neigh­bor­hood were after her. Whenever she walked down the street she heard the whis­pers fol­low­ing her.

	”Hey, man, how‘d you like to get into that quim? I‘ll bet she fucks as good as she looks.“ Hear­ing the com­ments, Linda raised her head high and walked on.

	Know­ing that the boys were only in­ter­ested in fuck­ing in­furi­ated the girl. Filled with ro­mantic ideas of love from books she had read, Linda knew that she was go­ing to wait for some­thing bet­ter.

	She met Bob when she was nine­teen. After high school she eas­ily found a job that she en­joyed. The of­fice was busy and filled with men who came and went, al­ways stop­ping to ad­mire the sexy look­ing blonde. Most of them were mar­ried and at the sight of a gold band Linda froze them out. She soon got the repu­ta­tion of be­ing a cold fish.

	At her first sight of Bob, tall and hand­some, Linda‘s blood quickened. As she sat at her desk, try­ing hard to con­cen­trate on her work, her pussy quivered and squirmed with de­sire. She had never wanted a man more in her life.

	As though she were send­ing mes­sages across the room, Bob‘s eyes kept go­ing back to her. He took in her pretty face and lovely body at a glance. He was ac­cus­tomed to pretty girls, but there was just some­thing about Linda that kept draw­ing his eyes to her.

	He took her to lunch the next day. The girl was so nervous that she could hardly speak. Then, aware of her strange si­lence, words tumbled out of her mouth.

	”I love my job and an­im­als. I al­ways wanted a dog, a furry little puppy. But of course I couldn‘t have one. Do you want a dog?“

	”I have one.“

	”Oh, what kind? Tell me all about him, please. I just love dogs. What kind is it?“

	”Just a mutt. Why don‘t you come up to my place and see him? He‘s very friendly and all. I‘m sure he would like you.“

	”Oh, that would be nice.“

	”Fine. Come to­night. If you aren‘t do­ing any­thing, we‘ll go out to din­ner and then see my dog. How about it?“

	”Sure. I‘d like that.“

	Linda spent the en­tire af­ter­noon at work think­ing about Bob and hop­ing she hadn‘t ac­ted like an idiot. Oh, she thought, I hope he likes me. H‘s so nice, and such a gen­tle­man. Not at all like any­one I‘ve ever known be­fore. He dresses well. I won­der if he‘s rich. Oh, I don‘t care. I think I love him any­way.

	A girl with more ex­per­i­ence would have re­cog­nized Bob‘s in­vit­a­tion to his apart­ment for the come-on that it was. But Linda, blinded by his nice clothes and good man­ners thought of him as her own Prince Charm­ing.

	After a ro­mantic, candlelit din­ner, Bob took the girl home. Linda was en­chanted by the dog and played with him while Bob watched im­pa­tiently.

	”I‘d bet­ter let him out for a while. Would you like a drink?“

	”Okay. He‘s such a nice dog. I like him a lot.“ After giv­ing her a strong screw­driver, he sat down next to her and pulled her over. She tensed up at first and then re­laxed, mov­ing close to him. His body was hard and warm. Linda felt safe there. He stroked her soft hair and mur­mured sweet words in her ear, blow­ing gently into it as he did.

	Linda squirmed again, as more damp­ness filled her cunt. She looked up at him and their lips met for a long, search­ing kiss. Bob‘s arms went around her, draw­ing her close. She could feel her heart beat­ing fast, as though it was about to jump out of her body.

	He kissed her again, this time let­ting his tongue probe her mouth and slide into it. Mouths opened, he sucked her tongue into his own as their bod­ies melted to­gether.

	As they kissed once more, Bob‘s hands were all over her, touch­ing places that she had never let any­one else near. His hands caressed the firm­ness of her breasts, draw­ing her nipples out un­til they were taut. When he began to un­dress her, Linda was frightened but power­less to res­ist the de­mands of her love starved body.

	”Oh, Bob, I love you so much. That‘s why I‘m let­ting you do this. You do love me, don‘t you?“

	”Sure, baby. Sure I love you. You‘re beau­ti­ful.“ As he ab­sent­mindedly re­as­sured her, his hands were busy un­fasten­ing her bra. At the sight of her twin cones, tipped off with her bright red, dis­ten­ded nipples, he felt some­thing akin to love.

	His head lowered down to her tits and he sucked on them, first one and then the other. As he sucked on her nipples, his tongue whipped across them, driv­ing her to new heights of ex­cite­ment.

	He quickly pulled off the rest of her clothes and gazed at her nude body. ”You‘re beau­ti­ful, the most beau­ti­ful girl I‘ve ever seen.“ His hands caressed her, touch­ing every part of her. Fi­nally they found their way down to her cunt.

	By then, the girl was pant­ing and gasp­ing as the blood ran through her veins. Her pussy was on fire. As his hands came closer, she opened her legs, let­ting his fin­gers in­side.

	He could feel the heat as his hand covered her gash. Her clit was throb­bing hard. He took it between his fin­gers and rolled the love-but­ton around. By the wet­ness that was soak­ing his hand, he knew that she was ready. His long prick was hard and aching to get in­side the wet­ness of her body. He let go of her juicy cunt and climbed on top of her.

	”Oh, Bob, I‘m a little scared. But I love you. You won‘t hurt me, will you?“

	”Hurt you?“ Un­til that mo­ment, the thought that Linda might be a vir­gin hadn‘t crossed his mind. ”Why should it hurt you?“

	”I don‘t know. I‘ve never done it be­fore and I‘ve heard it hurts. But I don‘t care. I want you to.“ Bob looked down at her with awe. He had never fucked a vir­gin be­fore and he felt a little wor­ried. But her cunt was wet and his cock was throb­bing. He entered her slowly and felt her new, fresh tight­ness. The girl flinched and then re­laxed, let­ting his prick fill her body.

	He star­ted slowly, let­ting his cock run in and out of her slit gently. As he con­tin­ued fuck­ing her, he felt her loosen up. A look at her face quenched any fur­ther doubts. He had never seen a girl look­ing so happy to be fucked.

	As soon as Linda got used to feel­ing his hard staff in­side her, she loved it. It was warm and hard and felt won­der­ful. She lay still at first, just let­ting his prick run in and out of her. But as his in­tens­ity in­creased she star­ted to move un­der­neath him, to meet his thrusts with one of her own. Vaguely she wondered how long it was go­ing to last and wished that it might keep up forever.

	He moved in­side her, twist­ing and turn­ing and ro­tat­ing his body so that his prick could feel every bit of her soft cunt. His strokes were harder and faster, build­ing to­wards his cli­max. With a few more quick thrusts he came, filling her slit with his jism.

	Linda felt the hot creamy li­quid pour­ing out of his body into hers and gave a short scream. As soon as it flooded her she felt her cunt start to move, to vi­brate and squeeze and hold. It drove her wild and her long nails raked Bob‘s back. She couldn‘t con­trol her­self—her cunt was mov­ing and there was no way to stop it even if she had wanted to. She felt as though she had com­pletely given her­self to Bob, body and soul. It was a won­der­ful feel­ing for her.

	As soon as she got home and into her own bed, she star­ted to won­der just what she had done. Without Bob‘s ma­gic pres­ence she began to have doubts about their af­fair. She kept telling her­self over and over again that Bob did love her and they would be mar­ried soon. With that in mind, she fell asleep.

	Linda was lucky for a while. Be­cause she had been a vir­gin, Bob grew at­tached to her. He taught her everything he knew about sex and found her a will­ing and eager pu­pil. Whenever the sub­ject of mar­riage came up he tried to change it. After a few quick caresses, Linda for­got all about it and con­cen­trated on the pleas­ures at hand. But one night mat­ters came to a head.

	”Bob, you do want to marry me, don‘t you?“

	”Sure baby. One of these days we‘ll tie the knot.“

	”Which day? Honey, can‘t we set a date now? I‘m get­ting sick of sneak­ing around like this. Every time I come home they give me funny looks. I want to live with you and be your wife. I just can‘t go on like this any­more.“

	”Linda, I just don‘t know. Mar­riage, well, it makes me nervous. My par­ents had it bad. They were al­ways fight­ing and both of them were miser­able. I don‘t know if I‘m ready yet.“

	”You don‘t know? But we‘ve been go­ing to­gether for al­most a year. I don‘t un­der­stand. You‘ve had enough time to de­cide. I‘m just sick of all this. When are we get­ting mar­ried?“

	”I‘ll think about it and let you know.“

	”You‘ll think about it?“ Linda was half yelling and half cry­ing by then. ”All right, think about it. And if you ever make up your mind you know where to find me.“ Sob­bing, she ran out of Bob‘s apart­ment. He pro­posed a week later.

	”Linda, I just can‘t get along without you. I love you so let‘s get mar­ried. But I don‘t want a big fuss. Just a quiet thing with you and me.“

	”All right. Oh, Bob, I‘m so happy.“ She col­lapsed into his wait­ing arms. As he held her tight, she could feel his cock swell­ing. She took it in her hand and played with it as his hand crept un­der­neath her skirt and in­side her panties. They ran for the bed, not even both­er­ing to un­dress.

	The first year of their mar­riage was idyllic. As soon as they got home from work they made love. Tem­por­ar­ily sat­is­fied, they had a late din­ner and went back to bed. On week­ends, un­less they had some­thing spe­cial planned they never got dressed at all.

	Linda was happy and se­cure. Every day she be­came more beau­ti­ful. She star­ted to think about quit­ting work and hav­ing a baby.

	”A baby!“ Bob roared. ”What the hell do we need with that?“

	”I just thought ... ” ”Look, we have a good thing go­ing with the two of us. Why spoil it?“

	”But a baby wouldn‘t spoil any­thing.“

	”The hell it wouldn‘t. Late night feed­ings and messy di­apers. For­get it, okay? At least for a while.“

	”All right. We can wait a while.“ Even though Linda had agreed, she knew what she wanted. She be­came care­less with her dia­phragm, know­ing that in the heat of pas­sion Bob wouldn‘t think about it.

	Sev­eral months later she be­came preg­nant. Linda was over­joyed and hoped that after Bob got used to the idea he would be happy too.

	”You‘re what? Oh, shit, how the hell did that hap­pen?“

	”I don‘t know. But as long as it‘s com­ing, try to be happy about it. I am.“

	”I know you are. You wanted it and you‘re hav­ing it. Oh, hell.“ Real­iz­ing that it would take Bob some time to get used to the idea, Linda kissed him, run­ning her tongue in­side his mouth. His cock was hard in a minute and they ran into the bed­room. As he worked his prick in and out of her, he tried to ima­gine hav­ing a baby around. He de­cided that it shouldn‘t make too much dif­fer­ence.

	Janet was a fussy, col­icky baby. It seemed to her par­ents that she cried all day and all night. Every time Bob climbed on top of Linda the baby would start to scream and Linda would rush to see what was wrong.

	”You don‘t give a damn about me any­more, do you? Everything is Janet, Janet, Janet. I‘m sick of this. It was your idea to have her so you can take care of her. I‘m leav­ing.“

	Linda looked up to find Bob gone. She didn‘t worry at first, think­ing that he would come back as soon as he cooled off. But Bob didn‘t come back. After that night she never saw him again. When she knew he wasn‘t com­ing back she de­cided that she would never trust any­one again as long as she lived.

	She re­ceived al­i­mony and child sup­port but it didn‘t go very far. Once again she had to scrimp and struggle to make ends meet.

	She tried to for­get Bob. What she couldn‘t for­get was the feel of arms around her, hold­ing her tight. And the memory of a stiff prick thrust­ing into her cunt stayed with her for a long time. Her body ached for a lover but her mind kept telling her that men were all evil.

	The years passed quietly with Janet un­til she met Mark. He was ex­tremely wealthy, in­tel­li­gent, and good-look­ing. If there was some­thing about him that seemed off key, Linda pushed it to the back of her mind. She de­cided to hook him if she pos­sibly could. She knew that even if it didn‘t work out there would be a great deal of al­i­mony in­volved. Mark had been mar­ried five times be­fore and each ex-wife had re­ceived one mil­lion dol­lars.

	She thought that Mark and Janet got along very well. Janet was four­teen and be­gin­ning to blos­som into a wo­man. She was shorter than her mother but her breasts were lar­ger. She was just start­ing to date and Linda worked hard mak­ing her pretty dresses.

	”Janet, do you like Mark?“ her mother asked.

	”He‘s all right, I guess. He gives me the creeps some­times.“

	”Why?“

	”The way he looks at me. And at you.“

	”How do you mean? I‘ve never no­ticed any­thing.“

	”I don‘t know, ex­actly. Just kind of like he‘s plan­ning some­thing that isn‘t too nice.“

	”I really don‘t know what you mean. What kind of thing?“

	”Oh, I don‘t know. For­get it. It‘s noth­ing. Has he popped the ques­tion yet?“

	”No. How would you feel about hav­ing him for a step­father?“

	”He‘s really loaded, isn‘t he?“

	”Yes, but that‘s not ... ”

	”Oh, mother, don‘t kid me. I‘m not a child any­more. Yes, that‘s why. You want to be rich. All right, I‘ll level with you. I‘d like it too. In fact, I‘d be will­ing to do just about any­thing. So don‘t worry. I‘d love it if you would marry him.“

	A few days later Mark in­vited Linda and Janet to his beach cot­tage for the week­end. When they got there, they both looked around and began to laugh. They had ex­pec­ted a cot­tage, not a man­sion. The house sat on the ocean sur­roun­ded by palm trees and exotic flowers. Mark showed them to their suite and told them that din­ner would be ready in a few minutes.

	”Gosh, Mom, I won­der just how many rooms this place has. Do you think it would be right to ask?“

	”I sup­pose so. Maybe he‘ll give us a tour.“

	”I hope so.“ After din­ner, and an ex­tens­ive tour of the eight­een-room house, Janet went back to her room, leav­ing her mother alone with Mark.

	”Linda, I like you very much. Do you like me?“

	”Oh, yes, very much. In fact, oh, never mind.“

	”What, darling? Say whatever you were think­ing in that lovely head of yours.“

	”I think I‘m be­gin­ning to fall in love with you. Isn‘t that silly? A grown wo­man like me feel­ing like a teen-ager with a crush.“ After say­ing this, Linda looked into his eyes. She wanted to know what kind of an im­pres­sion she had made.

	”Why Linda, that‘s one of the nicest things I‘ve ever heard. Al­though to be hon­est, I al­ways have to won­der just how much a wo­man means a thing like that. There are so many who only think about my money.“

	”Yes, I‘m sure there must be. Do you know what though? I think I would feel the same way about you if you didn‘t have any at all. You‘re so nice and con­sid­er­ate. Bring­ing us up here for a week­end was mar­velous of you.“

	”Tell me, my dear, do you con­sider sex to be very im­port­ant in mar­riage?“ Linda thought for a minute. One of the things that she had found strange about Mark was that he hadn‘t tried any­thing at all. She wondered briefly if he might have some prob­lem.

	”I don‘t know, Mark. I‘m sure it isn‘t half as im­port­ant as love and get­ting along well. Do you? Think it‘s im­port­ant, I mean?“

	”In a way. I don‘t per­son­ally en­joy it very much but I do like to watch other people hav­ing a good time. If an ar­range­ment like that could be worked out it would suit me very well.“

	”I don‘t un­der­stand. You mean have your wife let other men screw her?“

	”Other men wouldn‘t be ne­ces­sary. You have a lovely young daugh­ter, just at the be­gin­ning of pu­berty, I would judge. If you two could come to some kind of agree­ment ... if you see what I mean.“

	”You mean have Janet get fucked? Look, I don‘t think ... ” ”No, not at all. I don‘t want any other men around. I meant that if you and Janet en­joyed each other, that would be keep­ing it all in the fam­ily. What do you think?“ Linda was about to tell him that she thought he was crazy when the memory of all his money came back. Would it be worth it? She wondered. Yes. If I could get Janet to go along with it. After we‘re mar­ried we wouldn‘t have to keep it up. But just a few times, to prove that we were will­ing.

	”Mark, I don‘t know what to say. You mean that if Janet and I were lov­ers or whatever you call it you would be happy mar­ried to me?“

	”Yes, darling, more than happy. If you would do that for me I would be the hap­pi­est man alive.“

	”Mark, I‘m will­ing. I love you so much that I would do any­thing for you. But I don‘t know if Janet would ever agree. It goes against any­thing she‘s ever been taught.“

	”You ask her. Maybe she will. If she does, we can have a trial run to­mor­row. And if she doesn‘t, well you can fin­ish out your week­end here. See what she says.“

	”All right. I think I‘ll go and ask her now, be­fore she goes to bed.“

	”Good­night, my darling.“

	”Good­night.“

	As Linda rushed up­stairs, she con­cen­trated on how she would con­vince her daugh­ter.

	”You‘re back early. Did you have a good time?“

	”In a way. Janet, the man is crazy.“ After telling the girl everything that had happened, she looked at her, wait­ing for an an­swer.

	”Sure. Why not? It‘s not like it would hurt or any­thing. Tell him I want to make him happy too, just like a good daugh­ter should.“

	And so the next day Mark led them into a large room equipped with noth­ing but an enorm­ous bed. He sat in a chair nearby and waited.

	Linda took Janet in her arms and kissed her, slip­ping her tongue in­side the girl‘s mouth. At the same time, she star­ted un­dress­ing the girl. At the sight of her daugh­ter‘s vo­lup­tu­ous body, Linda found her­self be­com­ing aroused. She fondled the girl‘s breasts and sucked on them un­til her nipples were hard. Then she opened her legs and played with her pussy. Her daugh­ter was soft and wet. Linda stripped her clothes off slowly as Janet watched.

	The two of them fell back on the bed in an em­brace, rub­bing their bare breasts to­gether. Their hands were busy in each oth­ers‘ cunts, fin­ger­ing and prob­ing.

	Linda freed her­self and told Janet to lay back. She spread the girl‘s legs out wide and put her head in between them. Janet‘s pussy tasted sweet and felt warm. She licked off all the dew, lick­ing faster and faster to keep up with the sweet juice that was pour­ing out. Janet gave a sigh, and wrapped her legs around her mother‘s shoulders, hold­ing her head down tight in­side her cunt.

	Linda‘s tongue was busy, lick­ing Janet‘s throb­bing clit. Then she slipped it in­side the girl‘s tight hole and worked it in and out. She licked and tongued and sucked un­til Janet‘s pussy was bright red with ex­cite­ment. As her tongue flicked over the girl‘s hole once more, she felt it quiver and suck her down as though the cunt was filled with quick­sand. She felt her daugh­ter com­ing fast as she bur­ied her face in the open crotch.

	After Janet came, she went down on her mother. At the first touch of her tongue, Linda went into a frenzy. She came again and again while Janet worked her tongue in and out as fast as a snake. Ex­hausted, the two, mother and daugh­ter, fell back on the bed. When they looked up, Mark had gone. He had left in the be­gin­ning of the per­form­ance. As soon as they were dressed, the chauf­feur took them home.

	The next day Linda re­ceived a note from Mark, along with a check for one thou­sand dol­lars.

	”Linda,“ the note read, ”En­closed is a check for your per­form­ance. Any wo­man who would do that with her daugh­ter must be after only one thing—money. So here is a little. Sin­cerely, Mark.“

	”Oh, Janet, I don‘t know what to do. That bas­tard. I‘m sorry.“ With tears in her eyes, Linda looked up at her daugh­ter who was stand­ing next to her.

	”Mother, it‘s all right. At least we got a thou­sand. Don‘t worry.“ Janet held her mother tight as ex­cite­ment began to fill them both. ”Be­sides, I en­joyed what we did. So we learned some­thing, didn‘t we?“

	The above case was quite un­usual. Both the mother and daugh­ter had home back­grounds which provided a good set­ting for even­tual les­bian be­ha­vior. But without Mark, who ac­ted as a cata­lyst, it is reas­on­able to as­sume that in­cest would never have be­come a way of life for them.


CHAPTER THIR­TEEN

	In an in­ces­tu­ous situ­ation in­volving a par­ent and child, the par­ent who is not in­volved gen­er­ally knows noth­ing about the af­fair. When they do find out, they are usu­ally shocked and hurt. Di­vorce may res­ult. Oc­ca­sion­ally the of­fen­ded part­ner re­ports the epis­ode to the po­lice.

	As in any­thing else, there are ex­cep­tions. There are known cases where the in­jured party has en­cour­aged the re­la­tion­ship.

	Brenda and Sam R. Have been mar­ried for twenty years. They have a sev­en­teen-year-old daugh­ter named Joy. At the in­stig­a­tion of the mother, Sam and Joy be­came lov­ers.

	In or­der to dis­cover why this happened, and how it af­fected the en­tire fam­ily, we have in­ter­viewed each one of them sep­ar­ately.

	BRENDA

	In­ter­viewer: Is it true that you de­sired your hus­band to be­come sexu­ally in­volved with your daugh­ter?

	Brenda: Yes, that‘s right. I wanted him to fuck her.

	In­ter­viewer: Why?

	Brenda: So he wouldn‘t fuck any­one else.

	In­ter­viewer: Why did you think he might? Brenda: He has be­fore. But that didn‘t mat­ter. It‘s kind of a messed up thing.

	In­ter­viewer: Why don‘t you tell it in your own way. If I have any ques­tions I‘ll in­ter­rupt.

	Brenda: Okay. To be­gin with, my hus­band likes to fuck. I mean that man wants it al­most every night, ever since we been mar­ried. I guess he needs it more than most.

	In­ter­viewer: Do you ob­ject?

	Brenda: Shit, no. I like to fuck too. I al­ways have. That‘s why we got mar­ried. ‚Cause we had a good time doin‘ it. But there‘s times when I can‘t do it. That‘s why there‘s just Joy.

	In­ter­viewer: I don‘t quite un­der­stand.

	Brenda: After I had her I wasn‘t sup­posed to screw. It was miser­able. Even though my cunt was all sore and torn up I still wanted his prick in­side me. Shit, that poor man walked around hard for weeks. Then one day he wasn‘t no more. That‘s how I knew.

	In­ter­viewer: Knew what?

	Brenda: That he was run­ning around. If he wasn‘t get­ting any from me it must have been from some other broad. And I‘ll be damned if I‘ll let him do that. Slip it in an­other cunt like that. His prick is mine and that‘s all there is to it.

	In­ter­viewer: Are you sure he was hav­ing an af­fair? Brenda: You bet your ass I was. I fol­lowed him once and saw him with that bitch. Not nearly as good-look­ing as me, either. You got eyes—have you ever seen a pair of knock­ers as big as mine? Hell no, you ain‘t. And I‘m a damn good lay too. I don‘t just stay there like a log. I move, right with him.

	In­ter­viewer: Did you con­front him with the other girl? Brenda: You betcha. Not right then ‚cause I still couldn‘t fuck. But the first time we was in bed to­gether I let him have it. He was all hot and hard and puff­ing away, the way men do when they want some. I let him get all the way on top of me to where he was just about to stick it in. Then I looked up at him and I asked him who the hell he thought he was, mess­ing around with that bitch.

	In­ter­viewer: What did he say?

	Brenda: He didn‘t know what to say, poor guy. Oh, for a minute he ac­ted like he didn‘t know what I was talk­ing about but he quit that pretty quick. He just told me to shut up and en­joy what I had so I did.

	In­ter­viewer: Was it ever brought up again? Brenda: Yup. He fucked me good that time, start­ing out slow and build­ing up just the way I like it. It sure felt nice hav­ing him again. I bet he didn‘t have half as much fun screw­ing his bitch. He said he didn‘t and I be­lieve him.

	Any­how, later on that night he told me why he done it. He was just so damned hot all the time that he needed it real bad. Well shit, what could I say? I just told him if I ever caught him do­ing it again I‘d shoot him. That‘s when I de­cided I wasn‘t gonna have any more kids. I fig­ure, if a man runs once, the second time it‘s gonna be easier. So I never gave him no second time.

	In­ter­viewer: But what about your daugh­ter? Brenda: That was some­thing else. You see, I found out I had to have this here op­er­a­tion in my fe­male parts. They took them out.

	In­ter­viewer: You mean you had a hys­ter­ec­tomy? Brenda: Yeah, that‘s what they call it. I just can‘t say the word too good. Any­way, I asked the doc­tor how long it would be till I could get fucked. He said six weeks. That‘s when I knew I had to do some­thing.

	In­ter­viewer: But why your daugh­ter?

	Brenda: Well shit, who the hell else could I trust? If he shot his wad into some other bitch‘s cunt who‘s to say he might not want to keep on do­ing it?

	In­ter­viewer: Did you know that your daugh­ter would go along with the idea? Brenda: I figured she would. She‘s old enough to fuck and pretty as a peach. She‘s ripe, that‘s for sure. Hell, when I was her age I wouldn‘t have said no to a man either.

	In­ter­viewer: But didn‘t the fact that the re­la­tion­ship was in­ces­tu­ous bother you? Brenda: Maybe a little. But him dip­ping his wick some­where else would have bothered me more.

	In­ter­viewer: I see. And your daugh­ter did agree? Brenda: Sure she did. Her dad‘s a good stud with a fat cock. She told me not to worry about a thing, that she would take care of her dad while I was busy heal­ing up.

	In­ter­viewer: Are you all well now?

	Brenda: Yup. Well, and well fucked.

	In­ter­viewer: Then he hasn‘t con­tin­ued the re­la­tion­ship? Brenda: Of course not. He‘s got me. And she‘s got a boy­friend of her own.

	In­ter­viewer: Then you have no re­grets? Brenda: Hell no. Why should I? Every­body‘s happy.


JOY

	In­ter­viewer: Tell me, how do you feel about hav­ing had an af­fair with your own father? Joy: Fine. It was fun.

	In­ter­viewer: What was your first re­ac­tion when your mother brought up the idea? Joy: Let me see. For one thing, Mom isn‘t al­ways too smart about things. So for a minute I didn‘t be­lieve her. But when she ex­plained it I saw her point. She didn‘t want Daddy run­ning loose. You can‘t blame her for that.

	In­ter­viewer: No. It‘s not a ques­tion of blame. You agreed right away? Joy: Yeah. Ac­tu­ally, I‘d al­ways wondered how Daddy was in bed. At least for the past few years since I‘d star­ted play­ing around.

	In­ter­viewer: You weren‘t a vir­gin, then? Joy: Of course not. I haven‘t been since I was four­teen or so. And I wish I could have star­ted earlier. It‘s so much fun and all. I really dig it when I make it with a guy. It feels good.

	In­ter­viewer: What made you won­der about your father? Joy: I knew he and Mom were al­ways do­ing it. Hell, some­times I could see him get hard from just watch­ing her or giv­ing her a kiss. I figured if he does it that much that he must be some kind of an ex­pert. And I‘d never been fucked by an ex­pert.

	In­ter­viewer: How did you man­age it? Did you just walk up to him and of­fer your­self? Joy: No, it took a little more do­ing than that. The first night that Mom was in the hos­pital I put on a sexy nightie, the kind you can see through. Then I went and star­ted talk­ing to Daddy. Shit, he was so busy look­ing at my tits and bush that he didn‘t hear a word I said.

	In­ter­viewer: Who made the first ac­tual ad­vance? Joy: I did. After I brushed up against him a couple of times his prick was bul­ging out of his pants. As soon as I saw that I knew I had it made. So I put my arms around him and star­ted kiss­ing him, rub­bing against his cock with my body. He just about jumped out of his skin. But I kept it up and star­ted un­dress­ing him.

	Man, he has the biggest cock I‘ve ever seen. And more hair than any other guy I‘ve made it with. He sure was sexy-look­ing.

	In­ter­viewer: Did he try to stop you at all by say­ing any­thing? Joy: Yeah. He asked me what would hap­pen if Mom found out. So I told him it was her idea. That was about it. Then we went up­stairs to my room.

	In­ter­viewer: By then was he tak­ing the ini­ti­at­ive? Joy: He sure was. He was kiss­ing me and rub­bing my tits and all that. His hand kept run­ning down to my cunt all the time. He diddled my clit and fingered me a little bit too. By then I was rarin‘ to go.

	In­ter­viewer: Did you en­joy it?

	Joy: I‘ll say I did. He was great. Most young jerks, they put it in and fuck for a minute and then they come. That‘s nice, but my dad was bet­ter than that. He stayed hard for half an hour at least. Just go­ing in and out of my cunt, nice and easy like. I waited for about five minutes to come, fig­ur­ing that he would soon. But after that I just couldn‘t hold back.

	In­ter­viewer: You had an or­gasm?

	Joy: About twenty of them. To­ward the end I didn‘t know where one ended and the next one star­ted. I was just com­ing all the time. And when he came that made it even bet­ter. I think I really screamed then, as soon as he shot his wad. I love the feel of cream rush­ing up my pussy and he had a hell of a lot.

	In­ter­viewer: After that first time, did the re­la­tion­ship con­tinue? Joy: It sure did. After Mom got home from the hos­pital he would wait till she went to bed and then come to my room. He came every night for the whole six weeks. Even when I had my monthlies.

	In­ter­viewer: What did you do then?

	Joy: Oh, then I gave him the thrill of his life. All the time he was mar­ried Mom never went down on him. I don‘t know if it was be­cause she didn‘t want to or he was happy with just fuck­ing. But when I said I would he was so happy he could‘ve cried.

	In­ter­viewer: Do you en­joy fel­la­tio?

	Joy: I sure do. It‘s al­most as good as fuck­ing. There‘s noth­ing I like bet­ter than to take a hard cock in my mouth and play with it. I run my tongue all over the head and into the little tiny hole at the tip. That drives most men crazy.

	After that, I just take as much of it as I can get in my mouth and suck on it till he comes. That‘s the best part. I love the taste of come-cream. I just guzzle it down like it was beer and keep suck­ing. Some­times more comes out, some­times it doesn‘t.

	In­ter­viewer: And your father en­joyed this? Joy: Sure he en­joyed it. I give good head. I‘ll prove it to you if you want me to.

	In­ter­viewer: I‘ll take your word for it.

	Joy: You don‘t know what you‘re miss­ing, mis­ter.

	In­ter­viewer: When your mother was well did the re­la­tion­ship con­tinue? Joy: Of course not. He had her then.

	In­ter­viewer: Did you want to con­tinue it? Joy: In a way. It was real nice get­ting fucked every night. And Daddy was damned good at it. But the deal was that I could have him for six weeks. I wouldn‘t want to hurt my mom. And be­sides, I had a lot of catch­ing up to do.

	In­ter­viewer: Catch­ing up? What do you mean? Joy: I‘d been dat­ing a lot of boys reg­u­lar. But then for six weeks I didn‘t go out at all. So some of them star­ted to wander over to other girls.

	In­ter­viewer: Did that bother you?

	Joy: Of course it bothered me. What kind of half-assed ques­tion is that? In­ter­viewer: I just thought that since there were more than one, it wouldn‘t make a big dif­fer­ence if a few of them found someone else.

	Joy: Why not? Look, the way I fig­ure it is that a guy can either fuck me or someone else. He can‘t have it both ways. I think that‘s why my folks have been so happy with each other.

	In­ter­viewer: But they were mar­ried. You aren‘t.

	Joy: Not now, I‘m not. But this isn‘t that big a place. I prob­ably will marry one of the guys. So I can‘t let any of them get used to play­ing around be­fore­hand. Habits like that are hard to break.

	In­ter­viewer: But what about you? You don‘t re­main faith­ful to one boy at a time.

	Joy: Well that‘s dif­fer­ent.

	In­ter­viewer: How?

	Joy: Be­cause once a wo­man settles down she don‘t want to run around. She has enough to do keep­ing one man happy and the house neat and all that. That‘s how it worked for my mom and I‘m just like her.

	In­ter­viewer: I see. Have you re­gret­ted the af­fair with your father or felt guilty at all? Joy: No, why should I? It was fun. He gave me a hell of a good time. And with what I‘ve learned from him it‘ll be easy to get the rest of the guys back.

	In­ter­viewer: And what was that?

	Joy: Mostly that men don‘t like to hurry through it any­more than I do. They just have to be taught, that‘s all. And I‘m gonna have lots of pu­pils.


SAM

	In­ter­viewer: How did you feel about hav­ing an af­fair with your daugh­ter? Sam: When it first came up I felt kind of funny. Oh, I knew she was plenty ripe. Her tits are as big as Brenda‘s and her ass is smal­ler.

	In­ter­viewer: How do you mean funny?

	Sam: I dunno. Just kind of funny. But once she told me it was all right with Brenda I went right to it. I take my gash where I can find it.

	In­ter­viewer: Have you had many other af­fairs since you‘ve been mar­ried? Sam: Sure. The first time was when Joy was born. I just needed to get my rocks off some­thing aw­ful. But I was dumb about it, too. I got caught. Since then I‘ve been smarter.

	In­ter­viewer: Ap­prox­im­ately how many have you had? Sam: Oh, hell, I don‘t know. About once a month or so I get itchy. So I pick up a piece of tail. It ain‘t noth­ing ser­i­ous, just for one night. And Brenda don‘t know a thing about it. That‘s be­cause I fuck her at the same time.

	In­ter­viewer: Do you feel that your en­coun­ters hurt your mar­riage? Sam: Hell no. Why should they? Brenda‘s the best lay around. But once in a while I feel like some­thing a little dif­fer­ent.

	In­ter­viewer: I see. Why do you sup­pose your wife asked your daugh­ter to se­duce you? Sam: Damned if I know. Joy said some­thing about keep­ing me home in­stead of run­ning around. But that seems kind of silly to me. You know what I think it was? In­ter­viewer: No, I don‘t.

	Saw: I think she just wanted to prove that she could fuck bet­ter than Joy. The kid‘s right pretty and al­ways run­ning around with a bunch of dif­fer­ent guys, just like her mother used to. If it wasn‘t that, then I don‘t know.

	In­ter­viewer: Have you con­tin­ued the af­fair since your wife has been able to have in­ter­course?

	Sam: Nope. I was kind of think­ing about it for a while but I don‘t want that. Joy‘s good but she ain‘t worth get­ting in trouble over. And if Brenda thought we was still screw­ing she would raise hell. And I don‘t think Joy would go along with it even if I wanted to.

	In­ter­viewer: Why not?

	Sam: She‘s got her own fish to fry. She had a nice pussy though, she sure did.

	In­ter­viewer: In your opin­ion, are all wo­men alike? Sam: You mean for fuck­ing or just in gen­eral? In­ter­viewer: The first.

	Sam: That‘s kind of hard to say. When I‘m in there hump­ing, really hos­ing them down with my cock, then they all feel the same. But be­fore that, when I just start out, I can feel a lot of dif­fer­ence. Some cunts are tighter than oth­ers, for in­stance. They just grab me harder. I‘m lucky, though.

	In­ter­viewer: How?

	Sam: My cock is big enough so that even with loose cunts I can still get a lot out of it. Along with cunt size, there‘s tit size too. Not that that mat­ters a hell of a lot. As long as there‘s a nipple to suck on I don‘t care. But wo­men do it dif­fer­ent.

	In­ter­viewer: How?

	Sam: The way they move. Now Brenda, she moves real nice, just in tune with me. She even takes her legs and wraps them around my back. That‘s real nice. Other broads just move a little and leave their legs all spread out. But the worst kind are the ones that just lay there like a log. They ain‘t no fun at all.

	In­ter­viewer: I see. Tell me, do you think that any­thing about your fam­ily life has changed?

	Sam: Hell no. Why should it? We all have fun, one way or an­other.

	In­ter­viewer: Thank you very much.

	Nowhere in this set of in­ter­views could the in­ter­viewer sense any feel­ing of guilt, hid­den or oth­er­wise. All mem­bers of the fam­ily are ex­tremely out­go­ing and tend to take things as they come. Per­haps this, more than any­thing else, al­lowed them to play the dan­ger­ous game of in­cest without get­ting scorched.


CHAPTER FOUR­TEEN

	A young, at­tract­ive couple checked into a mod­ern hotel in the middle of a large city. The man be­hind the desk wondered what they were laugh­ing and gig­gling about un­til the young man asked for the hon­ey­moon suite. The man smiled, re­lieved that they hadn‘t been laugh­ing at him for some ob­scure reason. As they walked to­wards the el­ev­ator, he auto­mat­ic­ally dialed room ser­vice and ordered the cus­tom­ary bottle of cham­pagne sent up to their room.

	In the room, the young man closed the door. Then they both fell back on the bed laugh­ing.

	”What a nice co­in­cid­ence,“ the girl laughed, mim­ick­ing the Justice of the Peace, ”that you have the same last names. You won‘t have to change your name on a thing.“

	The young man took the girl in his arms and held her tight. They stopped laugh­ing and stared at each other as though they had just met.

	”Jan, we really did it. We‘re mar­ried. We‘ll never have to worry again. No one will find out.“

	”I know. We‘re far away from home and any­one who knew us. It‘s all so won­der­ful I can‘t quite be­lieve it.“

	”Hey, what if someone we meet ever says, ‚You two look enough alike to be brother and sis­ter.‘ What do we do then?“

	”Why, I guess I‘ll just look them in the eye and say that we are. They‘ll never be­lieve for a minute that I‘m telling the truth.“

	In­cest between broth­ers and sis­ters has gone on since time began. What is dif­fer­ent today is that sib­lings are of­ten go­ing out-of-state where no one knows them, get­ting mar­ried, and set­ting up house­keep­ing like any other new­ly­wed couple.

	Why have things changed so drastic­ally? We can only as­sume that in today‘s so­ci­ety, where everything is ques­tioned, broth­ers and sis­ters who are lov­ers simply de­cide that they have the right to stay to­gether. Since this is a mo­bile so­ci­ety it is easy to pull up roots and go from one end of the coun­try to the other.

	But can broth­ers and sis­ters, mas­quer­ad­ing as nor­mal mar­ried couples, really ad­just to an av­er­age mar­ried life? Pos­sibly. They do have one ad­vant­age. While other couples have to ad­just to liv­ing with each other, a brother and sis­ter have no such prob­lem. They have been do­ing it all their lives.

	How­ever, an in­ces­tu­ous couple do have other prob­lems. Many want chil­dren but are afraid to have them. And most feel dif­fer­ent from their friends. Do their pleas­ures com­pensate for the prob­lems in­volved? This is what we have tried to dis­cover.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Paul and Jan were only thir­teen months apart. Paul was the older and wasn‘t at all happy about hav­ing an­other baby in the house. He wanted all of his mother‘s at­ten­tion. Along with that, he didn‘t like the baby. She didn‘t do any­thing but cry.

	As they grew older, they be­came more and more at­tached to each other. As the fam­ily grew they learned to de­pend on each other for the af­fec­tion and at­ten­tion that their par­ents were too busy to give them.

	Through­out child­hood and into their teens, Jan and Paul were very close. They both dated oc­ca­sion­ally but with no real in­terest. They felt much more se­cure in each other‘s com­pany.

	When Jan was thir­teen she dis­covered love. Up un­til then she thought it was a silly nuis­ance. But sud­denly she wanted to feel madly in love with a boy. She looked around and found that of all the boys she knew she liked Paul best. Even at thir­teen her breasts were large and the tri­angle of hair around her cunt was thick and curly. Un­til she dis­covered love, she had been em­bar­rassed over the changes tak­ing place in her body. She quickly be­came proud of them.

	”Paul, come here.“ She called him into her bed­room. ”Look at me.“ She had been wear­ing only a towel, which she quickly threw aside. ”I‘m a wo­man!“

	Paul looked, his eyes go­ing over his sis­ter‘s nude boy again and again. As he stood there watch­ing, he felt his cock be­gin to swell.

	”Well say some­thing. Don‘t you think I look just like a grown-up wo­man?“ As she spoke, she held her tits up for his close scru­tiny.

	”Uh yeah, I guess you are all grown-up. You sure look dif­fer­ent from the last time we played doc­tor out be­hind the gar­age.“

	”Do you look dif­fer­ent?“

	”Well sure.“

	”Show me.“

	”Jan! I think we‘re too old for this kind of stuff. I mean, we‘ve both changed a lot.“

	”Why won‘t you show me? I showed you, didn‘t I?“

	”Yeah, but I didn‘t ask you to. You just did it.“

	”I think you‘re mean. I won‘t tell any­one or any­thing. I just want to see what you look like. Come on. I‘ll lock the door.“ Paul agreed. Jan locked the door and the boy stripped. When he got down to his shorts he began to feel em­bar­rassed since his cock was stick­ing al­most straight up in the air. But at Jan‘s prod­ding he fin­ished and stood totally nude be­fore her ex­amin­ing eyes.

	”Boy, your pecker got big. Is it al­ways that big?“

	”No, usu­ally it‘s a lot smal­ler. Can I get dressed now? You‘ve seen everything I have.“

	”Wait a minute. How come it‘s so big now?“

	”Be­cause of look­ing at you like that. I‘m all ready to fuck, that‘s why it‘s so big.“

	”Then why don‘t you?“

	”Jan, you don‘t know what the hell you‘re talk­ing about. We can‘t do that. You‘re my sis­ter.“

	”So what? I want you to, Paul. I really do. I love you.“

	”Of course you love me. I‘m your brother.“ As he spoke, his prick twitched with de­sire for her. But he couldn‘t be­lieve that she was ser­i­ous.

	”I don‘t mean like that, Paul. I really love you. The way people do who are mar­ried and all. I want you to fuck me. No kid­ding. I don‘t care that you‘re my brother. What dif­fer­ence does it make? Don‘t you think it might be fun?“ With that, Jan stepped closer to him. Her flat belly rubbed against the tip of his hard cock. He stepped back and she moved with him. As he stood there she walked up to him and put her arms around him. Their lips met and soon their bod­ies were pressed to­gether.

	As his hands began to touch her breasts, she felt a surge of sexual hun­ger that amazed her. Her body wanted him, wanted him to thrust his cock in­side. Startled but happy, she led him to her bed.

	As she lay back her room seemed to change. In­stead of the shabby, second­hand fur­niture that was there she saw plush vel­vet cur­tains, mir­rors and thick rugs. They were about to make love in the most beau­ti­ful place on earth.

	Paul lay down next to her and stared at her body. He couldn‘t quite be­lieve what was hap­pen­ing to him. He had thought about fuck­ing girls for the past few months. In fact, he had thought about little else. But he had al­ways ima­gined it to be far off in the fu­ture. All the same, he couldn‘t have asked for a pret­tier part­ner. Jan‘s long black hair stood out on the pil­low and ad­ded an ex­tra glow to the room. He too saw the red vel­vet and knew that sex was go­ing to be won­der­ful.

	Im­pa­tiently, Jan took Paul‘s hand in her own and placed it upon her breast. As soon as his fin­gers touched her her nipple began to swell and throb. In­stinct­ively, Paul put his head down and sucked on her tits, tak­ing turns un­til both nipples were stand­ing up proud and firm.

	Jan reached for his cock and was amazed at the size. She began to won­der if all that would really fit in­side her tight quim. His hand was there, in between her legs. She opened them and let him feel her wet­ness. At the touch of his hand her pussy creamed up even more.

	His fin­gers probed her cunt, feel­ing it for the first time. He found her en­larged clit and then went on look­ing for her hole. It lay there wide open, just wait­ing for him. He slipped a fin­ger in and felt the in­tense heat in­side her body.

	Paul fingered her for a minute, get­ting her pussy used to hav­ing some­thing in­side. She began to move un­der his fin­ger as though she were in pain.

	”Jan? Are you okay?“

	”Yes. Oh, Paul, I‘ve never felt any­thing like this be­fore. It feels just won­der­ful. Oh, I love it.“ She moaned and sobbed softly, try­ing to stifle her pleas­ure noises so that no one in the house could hear her. Her hands found his prick and held it, try­ing to drag it closer so that it would soon be in­side her.

	Paul climbed on top of her and slowly worked his prick in­side her hole. She was small and tight, but wet enough so that he didn‘t have too much trouble. Fi­nally he was com­pletely in­side her, all the way up to the hilt. They both let out a breath of re­lief as they en­joyed be­ing joined to­gether.

	At first Jan found hav­ing a cock in­side her a little un­com­fort­able. But after a few minutes she loved the feel­ing. As Paul star­ted to work up and down on her she had to hold her fist tightly clenched in her hand to keep from cry­ing out with pleas­ure.

	He fucked her quickly, know­ing that he couldn‘t hold in the stream of jism that wanted to es­cape and flood her cunt. As he came, Jan felt the whole room be­gin to shake. Through the veil of her or­gasm she could see red vel­vet swirl­ing all around her.

	When it was over, the two turned and looked at each other.

	”Paul, that was won­der­ful. I love you, just like a grown-up.“

	”I love you too, Jan. And when we grow up we‘ll get mar­ried and live hap­pily ever after.“

	”All right. And our bed­room will be all red vel­vet. And we can stay in bed for as long as we want to. Oh, I can‘t wait. I wish we were mar­ried right now.“

	”Me too. But we‘re not so I guess we‘d bet­ter get dressed be­fore Mom starts to won­der what happened to us.“

	”I guess so. But she won‘t won­der any­way. She never does. You know what? I think we could come up here every af­ter­noon and fuck and she‘d never even no­tice. She‘d think we were do­ing home­work or some­thing. Don‘t you think?“

	”Prob­ably. But we‘ll have to live here un­til we get mar­ried so we bet­ter watch out. You won‘t tell any­one, will you Jan?“

	”No. Do you think I‘m that crazy? I won‘t even tell Mag­gie, and she‘s my best friend. I prom­ise.“

	From that time on, get­ting mar­ried was their secret dream. After Paul‘s high school gradu­ation they went out to din­ner to cel­eb­rate.

	”Paul, just think. Next year I‘ll be out of high school. Then we can get mar­ried. But where? And where can we live? Not here, that‘s for sure.“

	”I know. I was think­ing that maybe I should get a job and move out. That way I would have a place of my own and you could come and visit whenever you wanted to. They would prob­ably even let you spend the night once in a while.“

	”But then I couldn‘t see you every day. Be­sides, I‘ll bet that we could even spend a whole night to­gether at home. Mom and Dad wouldn‘t no­tice. And none of the kids would think any­thing of it if they saw us in each other‘s room late at night. What do you think?“

	”It sounds nice, Jan. But it‘s not worth the risk. What do you think they would do to us if they ever found out?“

	”I don‘t know. But they never will. After all, we star­ted when I was thir­teen and we were both a lot dumber then. About some things, any­way.“

	”That‘s true. I‘ve got an in­ter­view for a job to­mor­row though. It doesn‘t sound too ex­cit­ing.“

	”What dif­fer­ence does that make? It‘ll only be for a year. Then we can get mar­ried and move. Oh, Paul, I can‘t wait. Some­times when I‘m in bed at night, all by my­self, I think about you be­ing all alone down the hall. Then my pussy starts throb­bing and I want you so much. But I‘m afraid to go to you be­cause someone might see me or hear some­thing. I don‘t like to sleep all alone, away from you. I just can‘t wait till things are dif­fer­ent.“

	Time passed, full of hopes and plans for the fu­ture. A few months later, they found out that they would have to wait even longer.

	”Draf­ted? Oh, Paul, you can‘t be. But what will I do? Two years away from you. What will hap­pen to us?“

	”Jan, take it easy. I don‘t leave for al­most a month. Now come over here like a good girl and let‘s see if we can‘t for­get about the whole frig­ging army for a few hours.“

	They made love with a bit­ter­sweet sad­ness. Paul was tender and gentle, try­ing to prove with his body as well as his words that everything would be all right. Jan came quickly, her wor­ries sub­merged as Paul drove her to new heights of pas­sion.

	Dur­ing Paul‘s army hitch, Jan was gradu­ated from high school and quickly found a job. While she tried to main­tain a pleas­ant front, in­side she was like a vol­cano about to erupt. With Paul gone she felt as though a part of her was miss­ing, as though she had lost an arm or a leg. Dazedly she went through the mo­tions of liv­ing while her mind was far away.

	A few boys asked her for dates and she ob­liged them. The boys soon gave up mak­ing passes at her. In­stead of re­act­ing vi­ol­ently, Jan would quietly re­move a hand from her breast or in­side her thigh. Her lack of in­terest cooled the boys off im­me­di­ately.

	She wrote to Paul every day, telling him how she missed him. At night her body flamed up with de­sire. She rubbed her clit and fingered her­self un­til she came but the re­lease was not enough. In­stead, it seemed to fan the flames of her heat. She thought about let­ting an­other boy take her but the thought was so re­puls­ive that she pushed it to the back of her mind. She only wanted Paul and coun­ted the days un­til he would be home on leave.

	When he fi­nally ar­rived, she had to sit for hours while he told the rest of the fam­ily stor­ies about the army. At the sight of him her panties filled with cream. As she listened, she squirmed against her chair, feel­ing the wet­ness and wish­ing that they would all let him go. Her mother fi­nally solved the prob­lem by sug­gest­ing that Paul might be tired. With a quick look at Jan, he agreed and went to his room. A few minutes later she fol­lowed him.

	They went at each other like ti­gers, fight­ing and claw­ing through­out their vi­ol­ent fuck­ing. Paul rammed her again and again as her nails raked over his back un­til he bled. When they came Jan had to turn over quickly to bury the screams of pas­sion in a pil­low.

	The two years passed and again they made their plans. They de­cided to settle in Los Angeles since it was such a large place. The only thing left was to tell their par­ents. Paul was the spokes­man.

	”Mom and Dad, Jan and I want to move to Cali­for­nia. There are a lot of op­por­tun­it­ies there for work and all. I learned a lot in the army.“

	”Why chil­dren, I just don‘t know what to say. You‘ve grown up so fast. Jan, why do you want to go?“ Their mother was sur­prised but not ant­ag­on­istic.

	”Be­cause I think it would be fun. Be­sides Mom, all the boys around here are such creeps. I just feel like I‘ll never find a hus­band stay­ing here.“

	”Don‘t worry Mom,“ Paul chimed in, ”I‘ll be a good chap­eron and all that.“

	”I‘m sure you will dear. If it‘s what you two want to do it‘s all right with me. What do you think, Frank?“

	”Paul, I ad­mire your guts, be­ing able to just pull up roots and get out there and make some­thing of your­self. I‘m not too sure about you, Jan, but if you‘ve set your mind on it I don‘t want to stop you. You two take good care of each other.“ With their par­ents‘ bless­ings, they left a month later.

	After a quiet wed­ding and a long, sex filled hon­ey­moon, the couple settled down in a Los Angeles sub­urb. Paul found a good job while Jan stayed home and kept house. Their dream had come true and for a few years they were very happy. The apart­ment build­ing they lived in was filled with young couples and they made many friends.

	As they got older, more and more of the couples were sprout­ing into fam­il­ies of three and four. Jan ad­mired each new baby and longed for one of her own. She was be­gin­ning to feel left out of everything.

	”Paul, I want to have a baby.“

	”What? But Jan, you know how dan­ger­ous that would be. God knows what kind of prob­lems it could have.“

	”Oh, that‘s a lot of bull. Look at the Hawaiian‘s. Broth­ers and sis­ters mar­ried all the time, at least the royal fam­ily. And they had kids. Why can‘t we?“

	”But what about Mom and Dad?“

	”We just wouldn‘t say any­thing. Or maybe after it was born we could tell them we ad­op­ted it. Please. I want one so much.“

	”No. Ab­so­lutely not. I won‘t take the chance. It‘s just out of the ques­tion.“ That night Jan stayed all the way over on her side of the bed. It was the first fight they had ever had.

	A few days later, Jan broached an­other idea to Paul. ”What if it was someone else‘s?“

	”What are you talk­ing about? You lost me in the be­gin­ning.“

	”The baby.“

	”You mean ad­opt one?“

	”Not ex­actly. I mean what if I had it and it wasn‘t yours?“

	”You‘re crazy. You must be out of your mind. How the hell would you man­age that? ”In the usual way, I guess. You do know where ba­bies come from.“

	”You mean you would be will­ing to let someone else, some other guy you didn‘t even know, fuck you for God knows how long un­til you got preg­nant? Jan, you don‘t want that.“

	”I want to have a baby. And if I can‘t have one with you then I will with someone else.“

	”Not if you‘re mar­ried to me, you won‘t. Look, we knew when we star­ted this that it would mean no kids. It‘s the only way it can go. If you want to ad­opt that‘s fine. But I‘m not go­ing to give you a child. You know I couldn‘t any­way. That‘s why I got ster­il­ized, so that we couldn‘t pos­sibly have an ac­ci­dent like that. And I‘m not go­ing to let my wife screw around. Or is that what you want? Do you just want to try an­other cock for size and use this as an ex­cuse?“

	”Of course not. Don‘t be silly. I just want a baby of my own. It would be yours too. Any­thing that‘s me is you. I don‘t want to let an­other guy screw me but it might be the only way.“

	”What about ad­op­tion? That seems like the most likely thing to me.“

	”But then it wouldn‘t be my baby. If we can‘t have one to­gether at least it should be­long to one of us. Oh, Paul, I want it so badly. Please let me do it.“

	”Just how would you go about it? Or do you have the guy all picked out? I don‘t know what the hell to say to you Jan.“

	”Say yes.“

	”No. I can‘t say yes. I don‘t want any­one shar­ing my wife and that‘s all there is to it.“ The next day while Paul was at work Jan star­ted comb­ing the bars for a likely father for her child. As soon as she found an at­tract­ive man who seemed in­ter­ested, she went home with him.

	As she walked into his shabby apart­ment, her teeth began to chat­ter. She wanted to run out the door and never come back. But she couldn‘t. Once Jan made a prom­ise to her­self she kept it, no mat­ter what happened.

	The man kissed her, mak­ing her naus­eated with his al­co­holic breath. She kissed him back, con­cen­trat­ing on a small baby cradled in her arms. Be­fore she knew it they were both un­dressed and in his bed. He moun­ted her quickly, plunging his long prick into her body with one hard thrust.

	As soon as she felt him in­side her she began to re­lax. Even if he wasn‘t Paul, his cock still felt good rub­bing the sides of her deep slit. She thrust back at him and was soon lost in the thrills of fuck­ing.

	They came at the same time, the man with a whim­per and Jan with a shout. The man held her tight un­til the spasms stopped go­ing through her body. Once it was over the act re­vol­ted her, along with the man. She said good­bye as calmly as she could and went home.

	That night she told Paul that she de­cided he was right. The best plan would be to ad­opt a baby. The next day they set the wheels in mo­tion. A month later Jan star­ted hav­ing morn­ing sick­ness.

	Ter­ri­fied, she told Paul the whole sor­did story as soon as he got home from work.

	”Get rid of it. We can find a doc­tor. Just get rid of it and then we‘ll get a nice, sweet baby from the agency.“

	”Paul, I can‘t get rid of it. It‘s part of me, just like you are. It would be wrong. I can‘t help it.“

	”Jan, I‘m not go­ing to stick around and watch an­other man‘s baby grow­ing in­side you. You‘ll have to de­cide. Either get rid of it or me. It‘s up to you.“

	Un­able to face the pro­spect of life without Paul, Jan had an abor­tion a week later.

	As of this writ­ing, Jan and Paul have been mar­ried six years. They have one ad­op­ted child and are about to ad­opt an­other. While they seem happy, ever since Jan‘s abor­tion a cer­tain spark has gone out of their lives. Like so many other mar­ried couples today, they stay to­gether be­cause they don‘t know just what else to do.


CHAPTER FIF­TEEN

	Pe­do­philia is defined as a wo­man hav­ing sexual re­la­tions with a young boy. Be­cause of its nature, many of these re­la­tion­ships are in­ces­tu­ous. The easi­est place for an older wo­man to find a young boy is in her own fam­ily. A nephew, son, or even grand­son is per­fect ma­ter­ial.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Whenever any­one learned for the first time that Martha R. Had a four­teen-year-old grand­son, they would in­vari­ably ex­claim, ”But you don‘t look old enough to be a grand­mother!“ Martha al­ways laughed and said that she had her own secrets for stay­ing young.

	Martha wasn‘t all that old any­way. Her son was born when she was only nine­teen, and her grand­son when she was forty. She was well kept and didn‘t look her age. In any case, today fifty-four is not old.

	When pressed for her secret for stay­ing young, Martha would laugh and tell the per­son that young boys kept her act­ive. They would both laugh, al­though Martha knew that it was quite true.

	She liked young boys a great deal. Their slim shapes, small as­s­cheeks, and bul­ging cocks turned her on. She didn‘t know just why she liked them and wasn‘t really in­ter­ested in find­ing out. After all, she reasoned, she hadn‘t done any­thing with a young boy. What harm was there in just look­ing?

	Martha‘s hus­band had died when she was only forty. His death had come as a shock to her but she had sur­vived. Now her friends and re­l­at­ives were press­ing her to re­marry. But she didn‘t want to.

	”Look,“ she ex­plained to a well-mean­ing friend, ”I‘m just too ro­mantic to get mar­ried. I want to marry a man I love. But these old codgers who come court­ing don‘t turn me on a bit. I still have lots of life in me. I don‘t want some old goat who has false teeth that click. Can‘t you see me in bed, him on top of me go­ing like crazy, and all the time his teeth go­ing, click click? Why, I‘d laugh so hard his prick would jump right out of my cunt.“

	The friend laughed po­litely but in­side she didn‘t un­der­stand a bit. She would hate to live alone, while Martha reveled in it.

	”Sweetie, it‘s the greatest. No one to bother you. If I want to get up at two in the morn­ing to bake a cake I just do it. And I don‘t have to ex­plain to any­one at all.“

	Nat­ur­ally, Martha‘s friends kept on trot­ting out di­vorced and wid­owed men they thought she might like. Some of them were aw­ful and some were quite nice. But none of them turned the wo­man on.

	”Martha, at your age you don‘t need to be turned on. What are you, some kind of hip­pie? I don‘t even know if you could be. All you need is a nice man.“ She nod­ded and pre­ten­ded to agree. At the same time, her mind filled with vis­ions of young boys. She knew that she could still get hot and creamy by just look­ing. So why should she settle for less? Of course, she couldn‘t tell that to a friend so she just kept her mouth shut.

	Her life was full. She had meet­ings and clubs and parties. And the chil­dren and grand­chil­dren. Her son was a suc­cess­ful en­gin­eer and her daugh­ter was a nurse. She loved her son and daugh­ter-in-law as much as her own chil­dren. And the grand­chil­dren were won­der­ful! Her son only had one, Mike who was four­teen. Her daugh­ter had three but they lived far away.

	One day, when she was feel­ing es­pe­cially bored, her daugh­ter-in-law called.

	”Mama, the greatest thing has happened. Wal­ter has a job to go to South Amer­ica for the sum­mer. Isn‘t that ter­rific? It‘s just what he needs to make that other com­pany sit up and take no­tice. I just wish I could go with him.“

	”Why can‘t you?“

	”Oh, I‘d worry about Mike. You know how he‘s al­ler­gic to everything un­der the sun. I don‘t know what they have down there but I don‘t think it would agree with him.“

	”So leave him with me and you go with Wal­ter.“

	”Why Mama, that‘s nice of you. But I just couldn‘t im­pose on you like that.“

	”What im­pose? I sit here all day with noth­ing to do. I‘d love some com­pany. Really. You talk it over with Wal­ter and see what he says.“

	”But what about all your clubs and bridge games?“

	”Not dur­ing the sum­mer. Every­one comes and goes so much it‘s a pain. So let Mike stay here.“ After hours of dis­cus­sion, his par­ents agreed to let Mike .spend the sum­mer with his grand­mother. While he thought Ar­gen­tina soun­ded like more fun he knew that any change was nice. Be­sides, he also real­ized that he could get away with a lot more away from his par­ents.

	Martha was de­lighted to see Mike and gave him a big kiss. Then they said good-bye to his par­ents. After they left, the boy star­ted to cry for a minute or two. As she held him close to com­fort his tears, Martha felt a rush of cream flood her panties.

	She quickly backed away from the boy, who gave her a funny look.

	”You‘re too big a boy to cry. Go in the house and look in the freezer. If you find some ice cream you can eat it.“

	”All of it?“

	”No, just a little.“ At that, Mike ran in, a typ­ical, care­free four­teen-year-old boy. Martha watched as he ran, the way his tight jeans fit over his ass. Her cunt came to life again as she thought about the jew­els that were hid­den by the boy‘s cloth­ing.

	The first week of Mike‘s stay passed without in­cid­ent. He had got­ten his bed­time ex­ten­ded by two hours and was happy. Martha liked hav­ing him but she was start­ing to worry. Every time she looked at him im­ages of his na­ked body passed through her mind. Every night, be­fore go­ing to sleep Martha prayed to have the im­ages re­moved from her mind. She was re­war­ded by dreams.

	In one of them she found Mike in his room, ly­ing in bed na­ked. She went over to wake him up. As soon as she touched his hand his cock grew un­til it was well over a foot long. She climbed on top of him and lowered her cunt over the enorm­ous stick. As she was work­ing her­self up and down on his rod she woke up in a cold sweat.

	There were no boys Mike‘s age to play with but he did find a bored sev­en­teen-year-old who was will­ing to talk. Glad to have him out of the house, Martha let him hang around the older boy as much as he liked. Then one day, while clean­ing his room, she found some pic­tures un­der his pil­low. The pho­to­graphs de­pic­ted every type of sex Martha knew about, and some that she had never thought of. Not want­ing the boy to grow up think­ing that sex was dirty made her de­cide to have a talk with him.

	”Mike, how much do you know about re­la­tion­ships between people?“

	”What kind?“

	”Well, sex for in­stance.“

	”Oh, I know about that. We learned about it in school.“

	”And what do you think of it?“

	”It sounds like fun. Can I go out and play now?“

	”In a minute. Then you haven‘t tried any­thing? Don‘t worry, I won‘t tell any­one.“

	”I have sort of. There‘s this girl who lives next door to me. I played with her cunt once. But she was too young. She didn‘t even have any tits.“

	”Would you like to see mine?“ After the words were out Martha wondered where they had come from. But once she said them she knew she would have to go through with whatever happened.

	”Sure. Can I really?“ His eyes went to her breasts, try­ing to ima­gine what they would look like. They were large and high and he thought they would be very nice.

	Martha took him into her bed­room and un­dressed. Mike looked at her breasts and then reached out to touch them. As his fin­gers grazed her nipple Martha felt de­sire and ex­cite­ment run­ning through her body. The boy touched them again while the wo­man stood there, power­less to stop him.

	In a trance, she took the rest of her clothes off re­veal­ing her curly bush. Mike touched that too and probed the in­side of her legs with his fin­gers. She spread them, and his hand covered her cunt. He could feel her clit pound­ing as he eagerly ex­plored.

	He un­dressed then while Martha watched. His body, while im­ma­ture, was good. His cock was hard and stand­ing out of a tri­angle of hair. Martha touched it, en­tranced by the beauty of the young boy.

	”Can I put it in­side you?“

	”No Mike, that‘s one thing you can‘t do. But I‘ll tell you what. I can make it feel just as good without you put­ting it down there. Do you want me to?“

	”Sure.“

	Martha knelt down in front of the boy as though she was wor­ship­ping him. She took his prick in her hand and softly rubbed the tip for a mo­ment. Then she slipped it in­side her mouth and sucked it gently. The boy‘s eyes were wide open and filled with de­light. So she kept on suck­ing the head while her tongue was busy go­ing over it. Soon she was re­war­ded by a small drop of cream which she licked up and swal­lowed.

	After that, she took his as­s­cheeks in her hands, hold­ing him close to her face. She opened her mouth wide and took as much of his cock as she could in­side. Then she sucked on it as hard and as fast as she could. The boy came right away, filling her mouth with his salty cream. She gulped it down fast and sucked some more, drain­ing the boy com­pletely.

	When it was over Martha didn‘t know what to say. Neither did Mike. He left and went to his room, won­der­ing if she would do it again.

	Martha spent an hour or two with her con­science. She kept try­ing to con­vince her­self that no harm had been done. Some­how she knew that wasn‘t true but fur­ther than that was a fog. Fi­nally she made up her mind to be­lieve that everything was fine un­til she had proof that it wasn‘t.

	Din­ner that night was quiet, as Mike watched her out of the corner of his eye. He wasn‘t sure what to think either. He had en­joyed her blow­job but she was his grand­mother and all that. He knew that he should try to for­get what had happened. But every time he saw her put a piece of food in her mouth he re­membered. At the thought of do­ing it again his cock got hard.

	”Grandma? Will you do it again?“

	”Mike, I‘m not sure if I should. It just doesn‘t seem right. Do you think I should?“ Left with the re­spons­ib­il­ity for the de­cision con­fused the boy. He only knew that he wanted it again.

	”Sure it‘s all right. I mean, why shouldn‘t it be? It‘s not like I was screw­ing you or some­thing. It can‘t be any worse than me do­ing it to my­self. Not that ex­actly, but you know what I mean.“

	”All right Mike. I‘ll do it again.“

	She gave the boy head every time he asked for it. And each time, see­ing his long cock made Martha more and more up­set. She wanted some­thing too. The boy was get­ting his rocks off while she suffered with aw­ful frus­tra­tion.

	”Mike, there‘s some­thing you can do for me.“

	”What?“

	”Well, the same thing I‘m do­ing to you. Do you know what I mean?“

	”Sure. Eat you. Ream your cunt out with my tongue. I‘d love to do that.“ Martha got un­dressed and lay down on the bed, spread­ing her legs wide open. Mike just looked at her pink slit for a minute be­fore he star­ted to run his hand in and out. As Martha lay there she creamed un­til her cunt went wild with de­sire. If the boy had de­cided to fuck her then he could have. But in­stead of that, he put his head down between her legs and star­ted lap­ping up the cream. He en­joyed the taste and went back for more. His tongue ex­plored her cunt, look­ing for the source of the cream. He found her slit quickly and worked his tongue in and out, gath­er­ing all the cream that he could.

	Martha felt her body start to shake as her pussy spasmed into the first or­gasm she had had in years. Her cunt grasped his tongue, want­ing to keep it in­side of her forever.

	The two spent a great deal of the sum­mer in bed with each other. They tried every vari­ation they could think of, with the ex­cep­tion of ac­tual fuck­ing. Some­how really get­ting his cock in there seemed wrong to them.

	Even though Mike was anxious to try fuck­ing he didn‘t push it. He was get­ting head every day and that kept him happy. Martha was happy too, en­joy­ing every en­counter with all of her pas­sion­ate nature. They both dreaded the end of the sum­mer when Mike would have to go back home. Every time Martha thought about it tears came to her eyes. She would be left alone again, in an empty house with a very empty bed.

	Mike quickly ad­jus­ted to be­ing back home with his par­ents. He missed the head jobs but there were other com­pens­a­tions. He de­veloped a crush on the pretty girl down the street. The epis­ode with his grand­mother didn‘t phase him a bit. It was just an in­ter­est­ing ex­per­i­ence to be filed away with a mil­lion other things that had happened to him.

	Martha had a more dif­fi­cult time. She missed Mike dread­fully. Every re­port she got from his par­ents telling her that he was happy felt like a stab to her. She fi­nally de­cided that she needed a change of scenery and flew to Italy with a close friend.

	Mike didn‘t know what she was do­ing un­til he heard his par­ents dis­cuss­ing it late one night.

	”Wal­ter, I got a long let­ter from your mother. I don‘t know what to say.“

	”Well what is it?“

	”She‘s found a young Italian orphan, about Mike‘s age. She‘s got­ten very at­tached to him and is ad­opt­ing him. What do you think of that?“

	”Sweetie, don‘t worry about it. I think Mama‘s been bored for years. This is just what she needs—a kid to keep her com­pany.“

	”Don‘t you think a hus­band would be nicer for her? He‘d keep her warm, too.“

	”Aw, she‘s too old for that kind of stuff. I doubt if she re­mem­bers what sex is like. But I do.“ Mike didn‘t hear any more talk­ing after that. As he lay in bed try­ing to sleep, he thought about how little his dad knew about his mother.


CHAPTER SIX­TEEN

CASE HIS­TORY

	”Hey, that‘s enough, I‘m get­ting jeal­ous,“ Sheila shouted at her friend, Grace, who was busy tongue kiss­ing a boy.

	Grace, true to her friend‘s wishes, pulled her mouth away from Adam‘s.

	”Ah, for Cris­sakes,“ he com­plained, ”we were just get­ting star­ted.“

	”You‘re still just get­ting star­ted, Sheila told him.

	Grace drew away from her date. Sheila took over. She crushed her­self against the boy with such force that he fell back­wards to the blanket. She was be­side him in a mo­ment, catch­ing her mouth to his, wind­ing her arms around him, press­ing her large breasts to his bare chest, de­vour­ing him with her mouth, shoot­ing her tongue hard and deeply into his mouth, rolling it there, snip­ping at his tongue, then draw­ing back and when he plunged his, tak­ing it and draw­ing upon it as if she and her girl friend shared a single soda with two straws.

	Grace sighed as she watched her friend and Adam roll to­gether and lunge their bod­ies in con­tact at the thighs, cock to pussy, press­ing and grind­ing and tor­tur­ing them­selves to each other in a mo­tion of frantic, anxious giv­ing and re­ceiv­ing.

	”Don‘t let me dis­turb you two,“ Grace an­nounced, ”but I‘m go­ing to join the party.“ Dy­nam­ic­ally, she did join the party.

	She reached a hand for­ward, then dropped it and clutched Adam‘s cock and squeezed him with all her might. And while the kiss between Adam and Sheila con­tin­ued, Grace ma­nip­u­lated his cock through his trunks with the hard, squeez­ing mo­tions that ex­pressed her own de­sire.

	Adam could hardly stand the double-at­ten­tion his body was re­ceiv­ing. He arched deeply, of­fer­ing more of him­self for Grace‘s clutch­ing fin­gers. And he knew them, too. But not in the way he an­ti­cip­ated.

	”Hold it right there, baby,“ she said sol­emnly when Adam had arched deep, mak­ing a bow of his body that pin­pointed the cramped ma­ter­ial of his cock be­neath his trunks.

	Very care­fully, so, so, care­fully so as not to dis­turb the arch Adam made, Grace brought her fin­gers to either side of his swim trunks and gently tugged. They were wet and res­isted her ef­forts. But she was de­term­ined. And Adam, still kiss­ing Sheila even as his body writhed to Grace‘s touch, was co­oper­at­ive. He made a deeper arch of his body. Grace tugged again. In a mo­ment the trunks scampered down over his hips and knees and to his ankles from which po­s­i­tion Grace jerked them free.

	”Oh, my, what a hunk,“ she said, ”Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my.“ Adam‘s kiss seemed to be­come more in­tense when Grace clasped her hand upon him again. She squeezed. He kissed Sheila harder. She re­turned the kiss with the same fierce giv­ing he im­par­ted to her. And all the time he knew the squeeze and ma­nip­u­la­tion of Grace‘s wan­der­ing fin­gers as they ex­plored the length and breadth of his cock, as they wandered and teased. And then she closed her fin­gers upon him again. And then—she grew dis­in­ter­ested in the one-sided love play.

	”Man—I gotta get more of me into this,“ Grace de­clared.

	Quickly and deftly, she dis­ban­ded her bikini from her body. Her breasts loomed forth like mel­ons; ripe, anxious for their squeez­ing.

	Grace paused for a mo­ment to ob­serve the kiss­ing pro­gress of Sheila and Adam. She could see their tongues trad­ing pen­et­ra­tions of each other‘s mouth. Then she spot­ted Adam‘s hand and no­ticed that it had sneaked in­side the bot­tom of Sheila‘s bikini. It was very busy there.

	Grace‘s ex­pres­sion changed. It did not look jeal­ous. In­stead, it seemed to take on the char­ac­ter­ist­ics of com­pet­i­tion.

	Very slowly, she moved to her hands and knees and perched her large breasts dir­ectly above the boy‘s pulsat­ing cock. Then she bent a bit. Lightly, she swayed her breasts and nipped at the very top­most point of his penis head.

	She heard his gasp and Grace knew that it came be­cause of the new con­tact she had brought to his body, not be­cause of the tongue kiss­ing he re­ceived from Sheila. She swayed her breasts again, strik­ing his cock harder this time, mak­ing him moan longer and louder. Then she swayed con­stantly back and forth, mak­ing a double pen­du­lum of her breasts as they struck the seconds off against him, one, two, three, four …

	Sheila, ob­vi­ously sens­ing the change in her shared lover‘s tempo of love, raised.

	”Hey, that‘s not fair, honey. I‘m still all bundled up in this old bikini.“

	”Then get out of it,“ Grace told her without slack­ing her pace, without miss­ing a beat of her breasts against the cock.

	Sheila tore her bikini from her body. Then she settled next to Adam again. She ran her fin­gers over the length of his bare body, lower­ing them un­til they very nearly came into con­tact with the beat, beat, beat of Grace‘s breasts against him, then rais­ing them slowly up over his body, touch­ing at the hard, round muscle area be­low his na­vel, then mov­ing higher and higher and higher un­til she covered all of him and once more cupped his face in her des­per­ate little hand.

	Grace panted hard. She moved as fast as she could, then stopped. And then, after rest­ing a second, she re­placed the thump of her breasts for the great, cock-suck­ing ef­fort of her mouth.

	Adam jerked up­ward with a mighty surge as she came upon his cock, con­sumed him, then de­par­ted him be­fore diving for­ward once again. And then again and again in a series of lov­ing mu­til­a­tions that seemed for all the world as if they might sear him, break his cock from his body.

	Sheila, ap­par­ently no­ti­cing the new surge of Adam‘s body as he gave it in great arch­ing mo­tions for Grace‘s tak­ing, looked up. Now she did not ut­ter a sound, but in­stead, dragged her­self width-ways across Adam‘s up­per body, then po­si­tioned her­self above him so that she could lurch her cunt down­ward for his oral tak­ing just as he in turn lurched up­ward for the same ef­fect from Grace.

	They tore to their end like three blind an­im­als, char­ging aim­lessly but with great in­tent, then find­ing that for which they searched.

	The three—Grace, her girl friend Sheila, and Grace‘s date, Adam—found their cli­max as one and howled their de­light for the great dis­cov­ery that they had made, a dis­cov­ery that they im­me­di­ately deemed to know over and over again, in dif­fer­ent ways, with a re­arrange­ment of part­ners and po­s­i­tion­ing, but al­ways to­gether.


CASE HIS­TORY

	(More and more Amer­ican fe­males are be­com­ing ad­dicted to oral love, es­pe­cially cun­ni­lin­gus. This brief in­ter­lude enun­ci­ates a single ex­per­i­ence in the life of a case sub­ject whom we shall call Dorothy).

	A great sweep of emo­tion cas­caded through Dorothy‘s body when Jeff lowered his kisses to her stom­ach. She felt near con­vul­sions so in­tense was the feel­ing that he caused her. Without will, her hands snapped to his head and pres­sured him tighter against her as her stom­ach muscles rippled and in­den­ted and rolled in spasms be­neath his lips and tongue. And she uttered tiny, sharp gasps of pleas­ure for the con­tact, for the way his tongue lolled over her, the way it sharpened and hardened to make a bit­ing at­tack at her na­vel in a sig­nal of a sim­ilar pen­et­ra­tion that might be made. He was like a vul­ture in­tent upon his prey, con­stantly bur­row­ing, lower­ing, for­cing him­self closer and closer and closer into her flesh. And Dorothy loved his ag­gress­ive­ness, his hard de­mand of her flesh for the care­ful, outer giv­ing of stim­u­la­tion in­censed her as in­ter­course never had.

	When Jeff lowered his oral at­tack, brought it to the hard roll of flesh be­neath her na­vel, Dorothy con­trac­ted in a de­li­rium of re­ac­tion: Her legs shot up, opened, and her hands pres­sured him tighter, fought to force him still lower.

	Jeff paused for a mo­ment. It was a mo­ment that threatened Dorothy with loss of feel­ing, the dis­con­tinu­ance of the thrill that had been build­ing. But it ended as soon as Jeff wrestled out of his trunks, then stretched length­wise, and in the op­pos­ite dir­ec­tion, to Dorothy.

	His very next con­tact told her what was ex­pec­ted of her. She did not mind. It was an ac­tion that was ex­pec­ted in or­der for her to know the be­ne­fit of his giv­ing for her­self. Jeff bent to her thighs and re­sumed his hard tongue lash­ing of her body. At the same time, he made a mighty thrust of his hips to­ward Dorothy. She knew his de­sire. In­stantly, she bowed to it, at the same time bring­ing a thrust to her own body while she nestled her thighs in a new, hot­ter pres­sure of de­sire.

	Very soon, Jeff was mak­ing the touches and pen­et­ra­tions of her body that had con­sumed her mind for weeks. And feel­ing rippled and then crashed through her body like an ocean, drown­ing even the real­iz­a­tion of what she was do­ing for him. She did not care. She did it du­ti­fully, without ex­cite­ment for the act be­cause that which she knew at her thighs was so in­tense, so grat­i­fy­ing and ex­cit­ing that she would en­dure any­thing in or­der to know it.

	At the last, after her body bounced in a steady rhythm of move­ment against his mouth and after her legs locked tightly around him, she began the soar to the skies, to that high plat­eau of feel­ing that churned her and crashed her and whipped her in­side-out with sen­sa­tions that had al­ways seemed im­possible. And the cli­max was meant for Jeff, too, but Dorothy was hardly aware of the re­ac­tion she had cre­ated. She was much too en­rap­tured with her own feel­ings for total aware­ness of the phe­nom­ena she had her­self caused.

	Dorothy and Jeff met thrice more in their act of mu­tual oral love dur­ing that week­end. When he was again house guest at Dorothy‘s home, they lost little time in cre­at­ing the op­por­tun­it­ies to meet of­ten. And at every sexual en­counter, Dorothy re­acted with greater and greater in­tens­ity to cun­ni­lin­gus. The fel­la­tio she gave meant noth­ing to her; it was the trade she bartered for the cli­max she at­tained.

	Dorothy, hav­ing tasted the fruits of her mis­dir­ec­ted sex drive, soon found in­ter­course ac­tu­ally re­puls­ive for her. She re­fused it to her dates. But brashly, and speak­ing boldly of her de­sires for the first time, she offered them the oral trade she had learned with Jeff. None re­fused; all were de­lighted with Dorothy‘s ori­gin­al­ity.

	Dorothy mar­ried at the age of nine­teen. The event was pro­moted by her par­ents and it offered her a life of happy se­cur­ity with the wealthy young man who be­came her groom. But her dis­in­clin­a­tion to­ward in­ter­course and her fierce drive to know cun­ni­lin­gual love as fre­quently as pos­sible, soon brought a rift to the mar­riage and took the young couple to the psy­chi­at­rist‘s of­fice where their prob­lems were par­tially re­solved and this re­port was be­nefited with this case his­tory of sexual de­vi­ation.


AN IN­TER­LUDE

	”Switch part­ners,“ Gail called out when the mu­sic ended.

	She hur­ried to the other boy and went within his out­stretched arms. A new re­cord star­ted. They danced, Gail cud­dling close as she had with Kent. And from this new boy she found the same hard re­sponse to her close­ness. She en­cour­aged it by thump­ing close, then away, then close again, and she smiled to her­self as each new mo­tion brought forth a greater re­sponse.

	When the re­cord ended, Gail turned around and said to her friends, ”It‘s hot in here. I‘m get­ting rid of some clothes.“

	The oth­ers laughed and shouted their ap­proval as Gail pulled her sweater over her head, boldly re­veal­ing the white flesh of her body ex­cept for a black lace, strap­less bra.

	”Good, old Gail,“ shouted Kent. ”Al­ways the first to jump into the wa­ter.“ He stripped his shirt from his body, bar­ing a hard, brown chest, which was only lightly sprinkled with hair.

	”Yeah,“ agreed the other girl. ”Gail‘s the leader—fol­low the leader.“ With that the girl stripped her blouse off.

	The other boy shouted, too, then dis­robed to the waist. And the four of them re­sumed dan­cing. Soon it be­came a game. At the end of each re­cord, the part­ners would strip away an­other art­icle of cloth­ing, change part­ners, and re­turn to dan­cing.

	Gail, down to noth­ing but a skirt and the un­der­gar­ments be­neath it, felt the thrill of lead­er­ship, even felt that she could get her friends to do any­thing that she wanted. She was not sure what it was that she wanted, ex­cept that it hin­ted at some ex­cep­tional activ­ity. She peeked from Kent‘s chest and saw the other couple em­braced and kiss­ing in­volvedly. And then she knew that she wanted them to share some com­munity of sexual thrill.

	Within fif­teen minutes, Gail ar­ranged that the four of them should change part­ners sev­eral times, by the rules, re­du­cing their at­tire to noth­ing. Gail made Kent dance close to the other couple. She wandered her hand from her part­ner‘s neck to the boy next to her. She gripped him.

	”Jeez,“ he moaned. ”You‘re wild, Gail.“

	”Yeah, like a jungle cat,“ she replied.

	She re­leased the boy, then urged Kent, her part­ner of the mo­ment, to­ward the fire­place and the bear rug that fron­ted it. She forced him to a sit­ting place. Then she turned to the oth­ers.

	”Over here now,“ she said. ”It‘s ‚nature‘ time.“

	”Nature time,“ Kent re­peated. ”What‘s that?“

	”That‘s for do­ing what comes nat­ur­ally, and do­ing it to­gether,“ she ex­plained.

	The boy made a grab for her, say­ing, ”Now you‘re talk­ing.“ She pushed him back. ”I said ‚to­gether,‘ and that means the four of us.“ When the four of them were seated on the rug, Gail‘s girl friend looked a little be­wildered and said, ”I don‘t quite see how—how.“

	”You‘ll see,“ Gail told her.

	Gail and Kent em­braced, stretch­ing long and prone upon the rug. The other couple did the same. The bod­ies of the four of them touched and thumped from time to time, adding, Gail was sure, to the ex­cite­ment of the kisses that they traded. Sev­eral times Gail felt both the other boy‘s and her girl friend‘s body come in con­tact with her own na­ked­ness. It ex­cited her. And what ex­cited her the most was the fact that she was some­how break­ing rules of pri­vacy that had al­ways been obeyed. It moved her to in­crease the vi­ol­a­tion. Her hand sneaked out to caress at the other boy‘s chest, even as he was busy touch­ing and kiss­ing his date.

	Breath­ing hard, Gail broke away from her own kiss and said, ”All right, kid­dies, let‘s get ori­ginal.“

	She waited as the oth­ers‘ eyes turned to­ward her. Then very de­lib­er­ately, she placed her hands against Kent‘s chest and pushed him flat on his back. She hovered over him a mo­ment, her breasts dangling down­ward. Then she began a vi­ol­ent series of kisses upon his body, touch­ing at all of him as she moved con­stantly lower. And at last she was at his thighs. She paused only long enough to mo­tion to the other boy to come close. When he did, she jut­ted her but­tocks to­ward him, in­dic­at­ing her wish for his en­trance. When his hands were placed on her hips and he had at­tained a pos­ture on his knees, Gail bent to the oral love of Kent. At the same time she whirled her but­tocks. The boy be­hind her quieted them, then lunged for­ward. And then the three of them quickly es­tab­lished a rhythm of mul­tiple love.

	”Hey, how about me?“ the other girl ex­claimed.

	Gail mo­tioned with her hand.

	The girl scampered close, then sprawled in a way that placed her­self in dir­ect prox­im­ity with Kent‘s hun­ger­ing mouth. Then they, too, be­came joined and the four young people moved as a single unit of giv­ing and re­ceiv­ing, lurch­ing, whirl­ing, bob­bing, thump­ing and thud­ding and in­cess­antly ap­proach­ing the cres­cendo-zoom of out­let that their young bod­ies de­man­ded.

	The frol­ic­some mul­tiple sex that the young people en­joyed was only be­gin­ning. They de­veloped re­fine­ments and in­nov­a­tions, join­ing other teen-agers with them. Within months, the ul­tra-ex­cite­ment of de­vi­ational sex con­sumed them, mak­ing them for­get nor­malcy and everything but their am­bi­tions for more bizarre sexual ac­com­plish­ments.

	And Gail was the leader. She con­tin­ued in this ca­pa­city un­til com­plaints from school and par­ents brought her to the at­ten­tion of a so­cial worker who ar­ranged for the girl‘s psy­chi­at­ric treat­ment. The treat­ment was a long time re­jec­ted, and Gail did not know it‘s true be­ne­fits un­til she had suffered a nervous break­down and was hos­pit­al­ized for many months.


AN AN­EC­DOTE

	Larry star­ted to rise and lower in an ef­fort to make a more in­tense con­tact with her hair. Lithe and lean, very mus­cu­lar, he ex­er­ted tre­mend­ous strength for even the very slight­est move­ment. And Heather, watch­ing his body twist and rise in pas­sion to her hair, caught that pas­sion as a more im­port­ant part of her­self.

	After Larry had thrus­ted to a high pitch and Heather found her­self dip­ping lower and lower, mak­ing a longer and faster trail of her blond hair against him, he called a sud­den halt to the ac­tion.

	”Oh, enough of that for now, little beauty,“ he ex­claimed. ”Now, we must play other ways.“

	Larry raised on the couch and urged Heather to lie on her back, stretch­ing her na­ked body be­fore him. Then he, just as she had done, took a po­s­i­tion above her. But his in­ten­tion was a com­bin­a­tion of new sen­sa­tions from which he would know the ul­ti­mate in hair-ori­ented, sexual sat­is­fac­tion.

	Larry straddled Heather with his knees, one on either side of her breasts, Then he raised a bit and arched his hips. He paused. Then he reached and caught all of Heather‘s heavy hair in his hands. He held it at a place above her breasts, comb­ing it with the breasts, ac­tu­ally mak­ing a soft, warm nest of flesh and hair. Then he cupped breasts and hair to­gether, thrus­ted and ran him­self through the silken, flesh-hair cradle that he had made to re­ceive him. He drew back, then moved again. Then again, a bit faster.

	Heather, look­ing up at him, had the oddest sen­sa­tion. It was as if a kind of mys­ti­cism had caught her up in a new ad­ven­ture that prom­ised the ul­ti­mate in ex­cite­ment. And to in­crease it and en­hance it, she arched in a man­ner that al­lowed her hair-draped breasts to provide a val­ley through which Larry‘s man­hood sliced, back and forth, seem­ing to grow harder as he moved, but al­ways con­stantly back and forth as if he were sli­cing some sub­stance of life it­self. And strangely, Heather felt the sen­sa­tion travel clear down to her thighs again, heat­ing her there and mak­ing a pulsa­tion de­velop like none she had ever known, not even when she had been en­gaged in in­ter­course with any num­ber of hand­some boys and men.

	Larry seemed to grow more and more ex­cited. He began run­ning strands of Heather‘s hair through his fin­gers as he moved, rub­bing it back and forth between thumb and fore­finger in signs of ad­or­a­tion. And all the time his breath­ing in­creased and his eyes strained, go­ing ob­long and pinch­ing tightly at the corners as if they with­held the fury of all his emo­tions. And then they sud­denly closed as he made a new, des­per­ate arch for­ward, with­drew, and arched again.

	Heather, re­ceiv­ing him, threw her shoulders back and arched even higher. She, too, felt great ex­cite­ment rumble within her, but for her there was a lack on con­tact that she still needed. She raised her knees, braced her feet, then flopped her thighs to­gether and away in a tense stam­mer that was the sig­nal of her de­sire.

	Larry caught it at once. Without miss­ing a stroke or lessen­ing the for­ward and back­wards whip of his body, he re­arranged his po­s­i­tion, bring­ing one knee from the out­side of Heather‘s hip and jam­ming it between her thighs.

	”Ummmmmmmmm,“ she mumbled in ap­pre­ci­ation for the new con­tact.

	Now, as Larry con­tin­ued to work high upon her body, he brought the same mo­tion to his knee, work­ing it back and forth against her young wo­man­hood, grind­ing it to her, and let­ting her clasp it tightly with each new con­tact.

	Their mu­tual speed in­creased. Their breath­ing choked and whistled and burst forth in dry, hot ex­pul­sions. And then, as Heather looked into the eyes of the man work­ing above her, she knew that he was near his end. She knew, too, that it marked the end for her­self for the feel­ings that were cre­ated at her hair-covered breasts merged with that thrust of Larry‘s knee against her fem­in­in­ity. And it burst upon her like a sud­den fire, en­gulf­ing her, crowding her, creep­ing over her from toes to head at the very same mo­ment that Larry groaned, jerked con­vuls­ively and lashed him­self amid her hair and breasts like a mad­man—a mad­man who was know­ing the hot, crazy re­lease of de­vi­ational thrill.

	Heather caught it all. She could not help but cry out and move faster. And as she did so, she snapped her thighs to­gether and clutched them des­per­ately to Larry‘s knee, grind­ing her­self against it in or­der to know the max­imum of thrill.

	Soon, they res­ted, re-en­gaged in the same man­ner, res­ted again, then par­ted.

	Heather be­came ob­sessed with her hair. She sought more and more ways to use it as a sexual in­duce­ment. She en­gaged in this man­ner with as many men and boys as she could. And she de­veloped some highly com­plex meth­ods of achiev­ing or­gasm without pen­et­ra­tion.


CHAPTER SEV­EN­TEEN

CASE HIS­TORY

	Melanie‘s father was stern. Her mother was hard work­ing. As a child, Melanie played with dolls and played at be­ing a wife and mother, all of which de­lighted her mother very much. ”It‘s nice today to think little girls still want to be like their moth­ers,“ she would say.

	In high school, Melanie was con­sidered some­what wild. She was great pals with her brother, who was only a year her senior. Through him she met many boys, some good and some bad. Melanie seemed fond­est of the so-called bad boys. Some­thing about them at­trac­ted her to them. Ac­cord­ing to a state­ment Melanie made to her ther­ap­ist, she used to dream of her­self as a re­former who would re­hab­il­it­ate a bad boy, then marry him, and live a life of hap­pi­ness with a house­ful of chil­dren.

	Melanie met Gus through her brother, Frank. He was a per­fect sub­ject for re­hab­il­it­a­tion. At sev­en­teen he had already served time at a boys‘ re­form­at­ory on two sep­ar­ate oc­ca­sions. Car theft was the crime. Gus was bel­li­ger­ent and wild, ready and will­ing to do any­thing that im­pulse sug­ges­ted. And im­pulse sug­ges­ted a great deal: break­ing and en­ter­ing, purse snatch­ing, car thefts, gang fights—al­most any­thing to break the mono­tony of a high school drop-outs life.

	Melanie was fif­teen when she met Gus. She was over­whelmed by his dark good looks and tall, strong body, but it was his wild­ness that at­trac­ted her the most. She felt that she must look after the boy, keep him from crime and harm, make him so­cially ac­cept­able, and one day make him her hus­band. She fell deeply in love and did not hide it from any­one, not even her po­lice of­ficer father.

	”You‘re not to see that kid again,“ her father told her one day. ”Jeez, what would people think if they knew my daugh­ter went with one of the town‘s worst hoods?“

	”I don‘t care, Dad,“ Melanie said hon­estly. ”I in­tend to see Gus whether you want me to or not.“

	”But why?“ the father ex­claimed. ”What in the hell has he got that de­cent boys don‘t have?“

	”Gus needs me,“ she ex­plained. ”If it wasn‘t for me he‘d be in worse trouble right now.“

	”Don‘t see him!“ the father com­manded.

	”I won‘t prom­ise that,“ she countered. ”Not ever!“ Melanie‘s father groun­ded her. She was not al­lowed out of the house ex­cept for school and church for a solid two weeks. Melanie took her pun­ish­ment without protest. She also dis­obeyed it. Work­ing through her brother, Frank, al­ways sym­path­etic to any­one‘s pun­ish­ment be­cause he had known so much of it him­self, Melanie ar­ranged for Gus to be wait­ing in his car at the corner of the street at mid­night each night. Her father was work­ing a night shift, and es­cape was a simple mat­ter. After us­ing pil­lows to sim­u­late her sleep­ing form be­neath the cov­ers, Melanie simply went out the ground floor win­dow of her bed­room, hur­ried to the corner, climbed into Gus‘s car, then zoomed off with him for hours of con­ver­sa­tion.

	There is some evid­ence that Melanie ac­tu­ally did have a good ef­fect on Gus. He got a job, bought a car, kept away from crime. He even talked of re­turn­ing to school for night courses. It would seem that Melanie‘s mother in­stincts had some in­flu­ence. What their total res­ults would have been we do not know, for the young people were sep­ar­ated per­man­ently by an event caused by them­selves.

	It was es­pe­cially in­ter­est­ing to her ther­ap­ist that Melanie‘s first sexual ex­per­i­ence with Gus oc­curred im­me­di­ately after an even­ing when her mother in­stincts had been par­tic­u­larly strong. It oc­curred, too, dur­ing the period when she was be­lieved to be sleep­ing in her bed­room, still groun­ded by the edict of her father. Here are the cir­cum­stances of that even­ing as Melanie re­called them for a case­worker at a large city fa­cil­ity for un­wed moth­ers:

	Gus swung the car door open for Melanie and she climbed in.

	”Any trouble?“ he asked, grin­ning.

	”Naw. Scratched my­self on the bushes though.“ Melanie raised the skirt of her dress and looked at the long sur­face scars on her thighs. Gus looked too, still grin­ning, his dark eyes wild and anxious.

	”You‘re a good chick,“ he said. ”Come on, let‘s take off.“

	”Where to?“ Melanie asked.

	”How about the lake? Nobody will dis­turb us there.“

	”Great,“ she replied, boost­ing over to sit very close to the boy.

	They parked be­neath the shel­ter of trees when they ar­rived at the lake. It was very dark. It was also a mild, lovely night, and it made Melanie dreamy and filled with deep things she did not quite un­der­stand, ex­cept that they con­cerned Gus and her love for him.

	As they sat in the car, some­times smoking, the car ra­dio‘s volume turned down so that mu­sic is­sued softly, Melanie talked to Gus of his plans for the fu­ture. She asked if he had made ar­range­ments for night school yet. He had not.

	”But you have to darling,“ she said. ”If you don‘t you‘ll be a bum.“

	”What‘s wrong with be­ing a bum?“ he asked, bring­ing his hand be­hind her neck and draw­ing her face very close to his.

	She smiled, then said, ”Noth­ing, I guess, as long as you‘re my bum.“

	”I am.“ They kissed. There was some­thing ur­gent about their kisses this night; some­thing was burst­ing with en­ergy and made up of fantas­ies of a life that was to come.

	”Prom­ise you‘ll see about it to­mor­row,“ Melanie asked, break­ing away.

	”All right, chickie. For you, I‘ll prom­ise.“

	”I‘ll go with you,“ she said. ”Meet me right after school, and I‘ll take you down to the of­fice where you can talk to a coun­selor about the courses you should take.“

	”All right, all right,“ he said kid­dingly. ”Here you go, hen-peck­ing already and we ain‘t even—.“

	”Even what?“ she asked a little breath­lessly.

	”Never mind,“ he said.

	Gus gripped Melanie harder, bring­ing her close to his hard, young body and mak­ing her breasts crush against his chest. Now, their kisses be­came in­tens­i­fied. Soon, Gus‘s hands were on Melanie‘s breasts. They kneaded madly at her sweater, bunch­ing it up­ward. And then they were be­neath the sweater and in­side her bra, touch­ing at flesh, tan­tal­iz­ing at the young nipples that grew and hardened be­neath his touch.

	Melanie sighed and sighed as Gus caressed her breasts. She moved her mouth from his, then bur­ied her lips into his neck. And then she raised them and mouthed furi­ously at his ear, catch­ing the whole of it within her mouth and hold­ing it as she shot her pier­cing tongue deep. And her hands im­plored at the young male­ness of his body. She caught him fully with her hands. She held him. She squeezed, re­leased, and squeezed again, and soon Gus‘s moans matched her own. And soon there was no place to go ex­cept to­ward ul­ti­mate grat­i­fic­a­tion.

	Gus forced Melanie back on the car seat. His hands jammed her sweater up to her neck, and then they moved be­hind her to un­hook her bra. He pulled it from her and dropped it on the floor of the car. And then he dove for­ward, catch­ing one breast in his mouth and work­ing furi­ously at the hard, wav­ing nipple. Melanie‘s hands shot to his head. Her fin­gers curled into his thick, wavy hair. She pressed him close, then closer, then gently swayed his head from side to side, from one breast to the other, aid­ing his quest, aid­ing her own quest, too, and feel­ing her pas­sions grow and grow and grow, just as the boy‘s sign of his pas­sion had grown. Melanie‘s hands moved over his body and gripped him again. And again she brought the ex­cite­ment of her ma­nip­u­lat­ing fin­gers to the sev­en­teen-year-old boy. Gus groaned. He raised. He stretched back and made an ad­just­ment of his cloth­ing. Then he leaned for­ward and again caught Melanie‘s breasts in his mouth as she felt the heat of male flesh press­ing at her hand. She did not hes­it­ate. She gripped him and ma­nip­u­lated him.

	Soon, Gus was moved to provide a greater sign of his love for the fif­teen-year-old girl. He pulled back from her moist, gleam­ing breasts. He stretched her next to him, made her legs dangle on the floor. And then he brought his hand slowly up­ward on the in­ner sides of those legs, caress­ing as they moved un­til they ar­rived at the place that had been cre­ated for more in­tense caresses. He provided them. Abund­antly. And the ac­tion upon her body moved Melanie to greater ef­fort. Now her hand was like a ma­chine that would not stop. Now she circled and pulled and yanked and jammed and re­laxed be­fore start­ing the en­tire ac­tion over again. And all the time she knew the pen­et­ra­tion of Gus‘s giv­ing—knew that mini­ature ac­tion con­ceived by chil­dren to show what they could ex­pect when they came to­gether in a blaz­ing act of love. And soon it was de­term­ined that they would come to­gether. Im­me­di­ately.

	Breath­ing hard, Gus stilled Melanie‘s speed­ing hand. He stopped the ac­tion of his own. And then he was half ly­ing, half kneel­ing, above the fif­teen-year-old girl, pos­ing him­self where they were de­term­ined that he should tread.

	Melanie helped with the com­plic­a­tions of their first sexual join­ing. She clutched him, then arched and re­ceived him. And then she raised and lif­ted and with­drew in a steady, thump­ing rhythm of sexual in­ter­course. She felt her pas­sion rise, reach a peak, then scat­ter into a mil­lion pieces of sep­ar­ate feel­ings, each as in­tense as the other, each try­ing to outdo the other in the sen­sa­tions they provided.

	Melanie and Gus came to­gether twice more that night. It was nearly dawn when Melanie crawled back in­side her bed­room.

	Reg­u­larly, they met at night. Reg­u­larly, they made in­tense love, without cau­tion, without re­gard for any­thing ex­cept the close­ness and thrill that they could achieve to­gether. They achieved a great deal. More than some adults. Their bod­ies be­came at­tuned to each other‘s, and soon they had gone through enough re­fine­ments of their act of love to draw from each other the same thrill at ex­actly the same time.

	Within three months Melanie dis­covered that she was preg­nant. She told Gus. He re­acted nobly, but frightened. Then he stole a car, was ar­res­ted and sen­tenced to a two-year sen­tence at a boys‘ prison camp. And then Melanie told her par­ents of her preg­nancy. After the ini­tial shock, ar­range­ments were made for her con­fine­ment at an un­wed moth­ers‘ home, out-of-state and out-of-sight.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Wilma was eight years old when she de­cided to in­vest­ig­ate the party noises in the down­stairs rooms. Her mother and father, well-to-do and pop­u­lar, en­ter­tained a lot. This par­tic­u­lar night the noise seemed es­pe­cially high to young Wilma. She crawled from her bed to secretly view the activ­ity.

	Wilma didn‘t see much. But what she did see, her psy­chi­at­rist later claimed, formed a dis­tor­ted pat­tern of what sex was, how it was con­veyed from male to fe­male, and the mean­ing­ful­ness of love.

	When she reached the bend of the car­peted stairs, Wilma crouched down and settled at a point that al­lowed her a par­tial view of the activ­it­ies in the liv­ing room. Every­one she looked at ap­peared to be drunk. This didn‘t shock Wilma. Her fam­ily and their friends al­ways drank a lot. But what she couldn‘t un­der­stand was that most of the men and wo­men were only half-dressed. Nud­ity was for bed­time and bath time! She couldn‘t un­der­stand it. But as she watched the four couples dis­placed equally around two card tables, she no­ticed that their loss of cloth­ing had some­thing to do with the cards they played. After a series of cards be­ing dealt out, there would be much laughter, and those who were ap­par­ently the losers would dis­card an­other item of cloth­ing. Soon nearly every­one was com­pletely nude. Wilma wondered what would hap­pen next.

	First there was more drink­ing, then someone placed re­cords on the ste­reo. Couples moved to­gether to dance. Wilma wanted to laugh. The people looked so ri­dicu­lous dan­cing without clothes, es­pe­cially the men and ladies who were fat­ter than av­er­age. But she did not laugh. She de­cided that it was time to re­turn to her bed­room.

	Later that night, Wilma was awakened again. This time by strange noises com­ing from her par­ents‘ room across the hall­way. Quietly, she moved from her bed to the hall. She paused. The noises soun­ded stronger. She was com­pelled to con­tinue on, enter the room and in­vest­ig­ate the strange sounds, at the same time that some­thing cau­tioned her, told her to ig­nore them and re­turn to her own bed.

	Wilma crept across the hall­way. The door of her par­ents‘ room was open a crack. Wilma pushed it open an­other few inches and looked in­side.

	Moon­light sliced through the room. It framed her par­ents and their activ­ity. Ly­ing cross­wise on the bed and in op­pos­ite dir­ec­tions, their heads bobbed and shook and moved as if they were dogs bur­row­ing a bone. Wilma couldn‘t un­der­stand what it was that they did. She knew that it had some­thing to do with sex and the party that had been held down­stairs. She knew, too, that it had some­thing to do with nud­ity. But she could not un­der­stand her par­ents‘ role in this strange night drama. It was con­fus­ing and a little dis­con­cert­ing, as if this scene made cer­tain de­mands upon her­self—de­mands that were equally con­fus­ing. Wilma con­tin­ued to watch her par­ents in their love activ­ity. The sounds that is­sued from both her mother and father con­fused her, too. But soon, fear­ful that she would be dis­covered, Wilma re­turned to her own room. She crawled into bed. After a while, she fell asleep.

	This was the ex­tent of Wilma‘s spy­ing upon ”for­bid­den sex.“ She was not per­suaded again to view her par­ents‘ parties or their own secret activ­it­ies in bed. Ac­tu­ally, her views of sexual dis­tor­tions were briefer than those of many chil­dren; how­ever, the ex­per­i­ence ex­plains a pat­tern that makes one won­der if Wilma, as a younger child, might not have viewed the same, or greater, sexual activ­it­ies, es­pe­cially dur­ing the early, sub­con­scious-form­ing years of her life.

	Wilma began dat­ing when she was four­teen. Un­like many of her girl friends, she was not boy-love bit­ten. She was not be­side her­self with joy at the pro­spects of dat­ing. And she did not par­tic­u­larly en­joy her­self when she did go out with boys. But she did com­ply with the con­ven­tions of her young so­ci­ety. She per­mit­ted her date a max­imum of pet­ting without ”go­ing all the way.“ She did not ex­per­i­ence any arousal within her­self. That was to come through the unique means of an older man and a sexual de­vi­ation.

	As Wilma ar­rived at her early teen years, her par­ents began to in­clude her in some of their adult activ­it­ies. She was al­ways in at­tend­ance at the Sunday af­ter­noon cock­tail parties that had be­come a cus­tom for her par­ents. She didn‘t es­pe­cially like the events; how­ever, one middle-aged man who was al­ways in at­tend­ance paid her a lot of at­ten­tion. Soon Wilma began to look for­ward to see­ing the dis­tin­guished-look­ing man named Bent­ley. And for the first time she felt the ripple of emo­tions that told of a ”crush.“

	There is every in­dic­a­tion that Bent­ley sought to en­cour­age the four­teen-year-old girl‘s af­fec­tion for him. He brought her small gifts and treated her as a man who courts a wo­man. The oth­ers of the Sunday af­ter­noon party group, in­clud­ing Wilma‘s par­ents, thought the situ­ation was charm­ing, of­ten com­ment­ing on it in the pres­ence of Bent­ley and Wilma, say­ing such things as, ”You two really are stead­ies, aren‘t you?“ and ”Bet­ter watch out, Wilma—I can see the glint in Bent­ley‘s eye.“

	Bent­ley did in­deed have a glint in his eye. It was for the girl, and was made up of those com­plex­it­ies that some­times will cast a man of mid­life with a girl of early teens, or even younger. And the glint in his eye told of am­bi­tions. It told, too, of op­por­tun­it­ies he would soon cre­ate wherein his am­bi­tions would be ful­filled.

	Bent­ley made the op­por­tun­ity dur­ing a week­end party at his own sum­mer house. The usual Sunday af­ter­noon cock­tail party crowd at­ten­ded, in­clud­ing sev­eral small chil­dren and Wilma. She was the in-between-age mem­ber of the group, too old for the other chil­dren, too young for the drink­ing adults.

	(It is in­ter­est­ing that Wilma‘s par­ents prided them­selves on in­clud­ing her in so many of their so­cial activ­it­ies. Their mo­tiv­a­tion for this should not have pro­duced pride, a psy­chi­at­rist said. In­stead, the par­ents should have re­cog­nized their in­ad­equa­cies as par­ents, for the in­clu­sion of their daugh­ter in adult, se­duct­ive-per­missive parties, planted the seeds for their child‘s se­duc­tion, and for the dis­tor­ted pat­tern it fol­lowed. Their en­tire life, in fact, worked to­ward mak­ing their child a fol­lower of sexual de­vi­ations.)

	By early even­ing of the Sat­urday that ini­ti­ated the week­end party, every­one, in­clud­ing Wilma‘s par­ents, was quite drunk. It was then that Bent­ley in­vited the child to ex­plore the land around his sum­mer home. ”Who knows what we might find?“ he said.

	Wilma has ad­mit­ted be­ing thrilled at the pro­spects of an ad­ven­ture with the hand­some Bent­ley. She has stated, too, that she had no pre-sense that the ad­ven­ture would in­clude her in­tro­duc­tion to a sexual act.

	Hand in hand, Bent­ley and Wilma ex­plored the woods ad­ja­cent to his prop­erty. Within the woods, it was dark. Dur­ing their wan­der­ings, Bent­ley main­tained an easy banter with the girl. And she re­spon­ded in like fash­ion. Soon they ar­rived at a clear­ing. Bent­ley sug­ges­ted they stop and rest. Wilma agreed.

	The first sign that Wilma had that Bent­ley en­ter­tained a sexual de­sire for her—and for this day—came from his eyes. They could not leave her young body. Con­stantly, they roamed—from the dip of her bra top, to the tight­ness of the bot­tom of her play­suit, to her long, bare legs.

	Wilma was not par­tic­u­larly sur­prised when Bent­ley ini­ti­ated a con­ver­sa­tion that hin­ted at the sexual, when he re­ferred to her beauty, and when his body came into close prox­im­ity with her own. She was sur­prised that he kissed her so ar­du­ously, how­ever. She had ex­pec­ted hes­it­a­tion. There was none. He pressed her close to him and plunged his tongue again and again into her fresh, young mouth. And soon his hands were upon her breasts, teas­ing them into greater full­ness and mak­ing the ends hard and hurt­ful, and alive with pas­sion.

	Wilma does not re­call the ex­act cir­cum­stances that brought about a change in their pos­tures, but sud­denly she found her­self fully stretched upon the ground and ly­ing cross­wise at Bent­ley‘s lap. He held her tightly, was bent over and kiss­ing her hard, but when the em­brace ended Wilma be­came aware of some­thing else: Bent­ley had be­gun to re­move his clothes, and she saw his na­ked body.

	Slowly, gently, Bent­ley urged the child to­ward his tak­ing. She did not protest. Some­thing deep within her young body told her that this was the thing to do, that this, fel­la­tio, was the me­dium of love that she must learn.

	Un­der the guid­ance of Bent­ley‘s hands curled into her hair, Wilma, within minutes, be­came a pro­fi­cient fel­latrice. Bent­ley uttered an­imal sounds and writhed be­neath the fury of her young, hot lips. But it was Wilma her­self who made the act be­ne­fi­cial to her­self. Near the end of her frantic mo­tions, she shif­ted and wrapped her thighs around Bent­ley‘s leg. She squeezed hard and in mo­tion with her bob­bing, shak­ing head. And at the end when Bent­ley groaned and gave up all that had been churn­ing and pent-up, Wilma cre­ated a mad scis­sors-grip and ex­per­i­enced the real­ity of a sexual cli­max: Some­how, amid a dis­tor­ted com­bin­a­tion of her growth and ex­per­i­ence, the four­teen-year-old girl had com­bined or­al­ity with fric­tion-pleas­ure re­lease.

	The next day, Wilma and Bent­ley met for an­other sexual epis­ode. This time the man at­temp­ted to have sexual in­ter­course with her. Al­though she al­lowed her­self to be un­dressed and lay nude with her middle-aged lover, she re­fused him en­trance and in­sisted upon re­peat­ing her fel­la­tio en­deavors that had been learned only the day be­fore.

	And fel­la­tio be­came the child‘s pat­tern. Through the years, with Bent­ley, other men and a few boys. Wilma ob­li­gingly com­mit­ted fel­la­tio, while con­tinu­ing to re­ject sexual in­ter­course. At nine­teen, she suffered a nervous break­down which re­quired hos­pit­al­iz­a­tion for over a year. Dur­ing the year, she par­ti­cip­ated in ses­sions of psy­cho­ther­apy from which her prob­lems were some­what re­solved.

	After the pa­tient‘s re­lease from the hos­pital, her ther­ap­ist stated, ”Wilma, like many young people today, seem to grow up with dis­tor­ted ideas of the sex act. For some, this be­comes the prime means of sexual grat­i­fic­a­tion, of­ten caus­ing deeply seated prob­lems to come alive and erupt in the form of emo­tional stress, a nervous break­down, or out­right in­san­ity.“


CASE HIS­TORY

	A beach, when it was dark and deser­ted by the other swim­mers, provided the set­ting for Cheryl and Bert to de­velop their method of pet­ting to a cli­max, to a very high, very soph­ist­ic­ated level.

	Cheryl wore a very brief swim suit. The sun, round and hot, but set­ting fast, blazed her body in an or­ange color that ad­ded wan­ton­ness to her ex­pres­sion. And Bert, tall, strong, hard-muscled, looked like an ath­lete from a Greek arena as the sun touched him over all of his bare body, im­plor­ing at his hard, nar­row waist, his strong, wide shoulders, his firm thighs and lean legs and long, anxious fin­gers that seemed that they could tear life from the sand it­self.

	The day had been spent pic­nick­ing, swim­ming, roast­ing be­neath the sun, and trad­ing cas­ual kisses and touches and pres­sures from their bod­ies. But as the bright­ness of the sun faded, as the young couple braced their backs against the cool­ness of a sand dune, the time for cas­u­al­ness had passed. The time for love had ar­rived.

	Bert and Cheryl had known each other since child­hood and had, only the pre­vi­ous year, be­gun to go steady. Each of them pro­fessed love for the other. Both were am­bi­tious about Bert‘s fu­ture ca­reer as a phys­i­cian; both knew they had a long time to wait be­fore they could en­joy the lux­ury of each other‘s body. And, both of them had been in­doc­trin­ated with a strong church back­ground that for­bade sexu­al­ity out­side the bonds of mat­ri­mony.

	”You‘re look­ing pretty somber,“ Cheryl said. ”What‘s wrong?“

	”Noth­ing,“ he answered in a tone that im­plied that everything was wrong.

	”There is too, come on and tell me,“ Cheryl said. She scooted her half-na­ked body a little closer to him.

	”It‘s noth­ing—or everything—or maybe just the same old thing,“ Bert said, glan­cing at her large breasts that strained against her bra top.

	”I know,“ she said. She reached up and stroked his cheek, then ad­ded, ”Poor baby.“

	”Don‘t touch me,“ he said, brush­ing her hand aside.

	”What a grouch,“ she said, laugh­ing.

	”Right. That‘s ex­actly what I am. A grouch. And stu­pid, too.“

	”You‘re not stu­pid,“ she told him.

	”I sure as hell am,“ he de­clared. ”If I wasn‘t stu­pid, I wouldn‘t give in to all your silly ideas.“

	”Silly ideas? Like what?“

	”Like wait­ing un­til we get mar­ried,“ he said sourly.

	”That‘s not silly,“ she said. ”That‘s right. Right and proper and the way it‘s go­ing to be.“

	”I know,“ he said, shak­ing his head.

	”But we‘ve got lots of other things,“ Cheryl said cheer­fully.

	”Like what?“ he asked.

	”Like be­ing to­gether a lot. Like hav­ing at least a few kisses and—and things.“

	”That‘s a lot of good,“ he said de­mean­ingly.

	”Bet­ter than noth­ing,“ she ex­claimed. ”A lot bet­ter.“ He could not sub­due the smile that came to his face, the smile that came in amuse­ment for the girl, his love for her, and her light­ness for al­most every sub­ject.

	”Yeah, I sup­pose it is bet­ter than noth­ing,“ he said. ”So, come ‚ere, give me some of that stuff that‘s bet­ter than noth­ing.“

	She laughed and cuddled within his arms. She gave him her lips, her tongue, her breasts press­ing against his hard, bare chest. And she gave him the stim­u­la­tion of her arms around his neck, then slip­ping them lower un­til they gently mas­saged at the small of his back, at that de­light­ful place of sen­sa­tion that was a line across the top of his swim trunks and just above the be­gin­ning curvature of his slim, hard but­tocks.

	And he gave much of him­self to her, too. He gave his hard chest grind­ing against her warm breasts, he gave his hands in caresses at her back, at her but­tocks, then in front where they cupped and pinched her breasts, made them hot with the tit­il­la­tion of his fin­gers, with the way they kneaded and im­plored and ad­ored.

	When they sep­ar­ated their cling­ing mouths, they both gasped hard and tightened their arms around the other. Then they rolled length­wise upon the beach. They re-em­braced, kissed anew, know­ing the new thrill of their bod­ies side by side and stretch­ing, then touch­ing stom­ach to stom­ach, thigh to thigh, knees bump­ing, feet kiss­ing, fight­ing to en­twine yet not quite mak­ing that move for fear of what it might cause.

	And then Bert snorted like a bull and rolled atop his love. Cheryl grasped him harder, brought her hands to the small of his back and pres­sured him close while at the same time she arched slightly and opened her knees, mak­ing a cradle for him.

	Bert thrust him­self for­ward. Cheryl arched and caught him, pushed against him and bur­rowed hot and tight as he did the same. And then they with­drew from each other. For a mo­ment, they stared into each other‘s eyes. Then Bert‘s face des­cen­ded over her, paused, then cap­tured her mouth. And then he lowered him­self and his trunks ground against the skimpy bot­tom of her swim­suit. They par­ted, they came to­gether again, then again and again in faster mo­tion, mount­ing pas­sion, harder and harder con­tacts of the sex of each to that of the other.

	Their bod­ies stiffened as they moved, grew more ri­gid, more en­thralled with the dy­namic turn their love play had taken. They caught hold of each other‘s tongue, bit, re­leased, caught again while all the time their bod­ies moved in that po­s­i­tion of in­ter­course that was not that vehicle for their re­lease.

	Sud­denly, Cheryl cried out and tore her mouth away from Bert‘s lips. He choked out a cry too. Then they both moved faster, and faster still, hard and slap­ping to­gether as if they were truly com­batants, not lov­ers, as if they were truly joined and feel­ing the cap­ture of each by the other‘s body.

	”Oh. Oh, Bert!“ Cheryl squealed.

	He did not an­swer. He merely groaned and struck him­self harder and harder against the girl‘s rising, pound­ing wo­man­hood.

	It ended for both of them at the same time. They poun­ded, then col­lapsed. They rolled to­gether and be­stowed upon each other the sweet, frail kisses of thrill‘s great de­noue­ment.

	And so, upon this lonely, deser­ted beach, the pat­tern of sub­sti­tute love was es­tab­lished for two who had to wait.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Meg L. Learned the re­la­tion­ship of pain to sexual pleas­ure as the vic­tim of an orphan­age keeper‘s hard hands.

	Meg was placed in an orphan­age—one of church ori­gin and sup­port—when she was only nine and upon the event of her wid­owed mother‘s death. She hated the food, most of the other girls, the hope­less­ness of the en­vir­on­ment, the shabby cloth­ing, and the con­stant grind of bore­dom. Meg dreamed only of one day: ar­riv­ing at the age of eight­een and gain­ing re­lease from the in­sti­tu­tional home.

	Un­til she was four­teen, Meg was never a dis­cip­line prob­lem. But at this age, she began to find minor dif­fi­culties to claim her at­ten­tion. They were com­mit­ted, her psy­chi­at­rist once claimed, be­cause of the bore­dom of her life as much as from any true de­sire for mis­chief or to cause trouble.

	Steal­ing from the kit­chen was one of the fa­vor­ite pas­times of most of the young in­mates of the home. There was a need for this steal­ing, they ra­tion­al­ized, for the three daily meals were un­ima­gin­at­ive and usu­ally in­ad­equate for their vi­tal­ity-filled spir­its and bod­ies. Meg joined in the steal­ing. And Meg got caught.

	It was the eld­erly main­ten­ance man of the orphan­age who faced Meg as she sneaked from the kit­chen with a half-eaten ham tucked un­der her arm.

	”Give me that, kid,“ he ordered.

	Cower­ing at the end of the des­ol­ate hall, Meg handed the old man the ham.

	”Don‘t you move,“ he said.

	Walk­ing back­wards, keep­ing his eyes keenly upon Meg, the old man moved back down the hall to the tray win­dow of the kit­chen. He placed the ham on the sill, then moved for­ward to­ward Meg.

	”Can‘t steal around here, kid,“ the old man said.

	”I know—I‘m—I‘m sorry,“ Meg said, a note of plea in her tone.

	”Think maybe you bet­ter learn right now that there ain‘t to be no steal­ing around here,“ the man said.

	Meg star­ted to duck as soon as she saw the man raise his fist to strike her. But she was neither quick enough or strong enough to avoid the hard smash of his fist against her cheekbone. She crumbled to the floor, her head spin­ning, her mind a blank ex­cept for the dark form of a dream-fig­ure gi­ant who was in real­ity the main­ten­ance man stand­ing over her.

	”Stand up and get it again, kid,“ the man growled.

	Meg tried to stand, but could not.

	The old man aided her. He grabbed her by her long, black hair and jerked her to her feet. Then he smashed his fist into the cen­ter of her right breast. As she fell, he struck her again upon the other small, bud­ding breast.

	Meg re­mained quiet on the floor, al­low­ing the hate to gather within her, bubble and boil and grow as she tried to think how she could stop the pain that raced through her body. And then she was on her feet again with her back pinned to the wall while the old man meas­ured her with his eyes for new blows. It was then that Meg de­cided to use her mind to al­le­vi­ate the pain. It was then that she plot­ted to use pain as a feel­ing of pleas­ure so as not to know the real­ity of her aching body.

	The old man rained sev­eral new blows upon her body; at her shoulders, her breasts again, at her small, round stom­ach, and fi­nally at the point of her thighs‘ join­ing. And Meg steeled her­self and thought of love and dream-men she would one day know. At every blow she thought of beauty, her own and how she hoped it would someday vamp every man upon whom she turned its vi­tal­ity. When the old man‘s fists struck her breasts, she thought of caresses and kisses upon her small but point­ing nipples. And when the hard im­pact of gnarled fists struck at the point of her young wo­man­hood, Meg thought of love and pen­et­ra­tion, of a man‘s na­ked body mov­ing above her own nud­ity, pump­ing him­self to her in or­der to give her pleas­ure, make her light up with love and the sex that was the sign of love.

	Meg slumped to the floor again, but this time there was no pain, only great, ra­cing heat that seemed to be con­sum­ing her, heat­ing her with love.

	The old man jerked her up­ward again and slapped her hard upon the cheek. Her head spun, but she re­cap­tured the men­tal im­ages of love and sex and took the blow like a caress. And then the sav­age blows des­cen­ded on her breasts again and the fire within Meg heated. And when they lowered and struck again at her thighs, the four­teen-year-old girl felt the sweep of that fire that she had turned from pain into sym­bols of love. It en­gulfed her. It sent her soar­ing.

	Meg whimpered sounds of great, split­ting emo­tion, then fell to the floor again. She twis­ted to her side and bur­ied her face into the cross of her arms. The old man kicked her in the but­tocks then, mut­ter­ing, dis­ap­peared.

	When Meg fi­nally raised from the floor and re­turned to her ward, she felt ex­al­ted. Her body did not ache, nor did she feel the res­ults of the black-blue spots that covered her body. And her mind was not on pain. In­stead, it lingered on the thrill she had known, the thrill she had cre­ated her­self as an an­ti­dote for pain.

	The dark, lonely hall­way of the orphan­age that provided the set­ting for Meg‘s first ex­per­i­ence with pain as a sexual thrill, was the place that es­tab­lished the pat­tern for nearly a dec­ade of Meg‘s life. She sought pain as oth­ers sought love. And within the cruel walls of the orphan­age, she found it in abund­ant pres­ence. Upon her re­lease at the age of eight­een, she feared for the thrill she might no longer know. But very soon she found those men who could provide her sexual ex­cite­ment be­cause of their own sad­istic makeup. She en­joyed it, and pur­sued it, un­til a men­tal col­lapse placed her in a men­tal in­sti­tu­tion where she met the ef­fects of psy­cho­ther­apy, res­ult­ing in the even­tual re­solvement of her pe­cu­li­arly per­sonal emo­tional prob­lem.



CHAPTER EIGHT­EEN

CASE HIS­TORY

	Sub­ject: Eight­een-year-old fe­male. Negro, a col­lege fresh­man, case name, Karen Q. Do you date men?

	A. Rarely.

	Q. Why is this?

	A. I don‘t like them. I really never have.

	Q. But you date them some­times. If you do not like them, why do you some­times go out with them?

	A. There are some activ­it­ies on cam­pus that nearly de­mand that you have a male date. Some of these events I like to go to, so I get a date.

	Q. If it weren‘t for this, you would not have much to do with men, is that right? A. Ab­so­lutely right.

	Q. Do you con­sider your­self a les­bian?

	A. I do.

	Q. Are you cer­tain?

	A. Very cer­tain.

	Q. Why?

	A. It‘s rather ob­vi­ous, I think. I like girls.

	Q. Many girl like other girls without be­ing les­bi­ans. What makes you make a stronger in­ter­pret­a­tion of this kind of situ­ation?

	A. I‘m afraid Dr.-, that you‘re try­ing to con­vince me, or at least make me have some doubt, as to the ex­act emo­tions I have for other girls.

	Q. Now you‘re con­fus­ing me.

	A. I think what you‘re at­tempt­ing to do is es­tab­lish that I don‘t know what a les­bian is—that I don‘t know what I am.

	Q. Well, what is a les­bian? And what are you? A. A les­bian prefers to have her sexual af­fairs with other girls rather than men. I‘m that kind of a girl, so I‘m a les­bian.

	Q. There are dif­fer­ent kinds of les­bi­ans. What kind are you? A. I beg your par­don.

	Q. Do you play an act­ive or pass­ive role in the act? A. Both.

	Q. Have you ever had sexual re­la­tions with the op­pos­ite sex? A. Yes.

	Q. Fre­quently?

	A. No.

	Q. Will you tell me at what age this oc­curred and the cir­cum­stances sur­round­ing the af­fair?

	A. Yes, I‘ll tell you.

	Q. Thank you.

	A. I was twelve years old. My uncle—he lived with my mother and me—made love to me. He was al­most like a father to me. Funny thing, though, this very second—right while I‘ve been talk­ing to you—I had a kind of flash­ing thought about him.

	Q. What kind of thought?

	A. That this man wasn‘t my uncle. I re­mem­ber that he used to sleep with my mother lots of times. He was—I don‘t know if he was—sup­posed to be my father‘s brother. My father ran away when I was very small. Then I re­mem­ber this man liv­ing with us.

	Q. And he forced you into a sexual act? A. I don‘t know if we can call if force, or not. It just kind of happened. You know, was hap­pen­ing without me really know­ing how it came about.

	Q. This man who you thought was, or was, your uncle, had sexual in­ter­course with you, is that the way it went?

	A. That‘s part of it.

	Q. What‘s the rest of the story?

	A. Well, pretty soon he didn‘t seem sat­is­fied with in­ter­course any­more. Now you have to un­der­stand that this man and I—well, we got to­gether prac­tic­ally every time we were alone in the house to­gether. But pretty soon he star­ted do­ing some­thing else.

	Q. And what was that?

	A. I don‘t know the med­ical terms for it, but he star­ted just—just mak­ing to me with his mouth.

	Q. At the va­ginal area?

	A. Yes.

	Q. How did you feel about this?

	A. I ... liked it.

	Q. And had you liked sexual in­ter­course too? A. Not at all. It used to hurt, and my uncle wasn‘t very gentle. When he wanted me, he wasn‘t very gentle. When he wanted me, he wanted me right then, with no fool­ing around. And he was a very big man, and some­times I cried, the pain was bad.

	Q. This is a little dif­fi­cult to un­der­stand, Karen. Here we have your uncle, or at least a man, who ap­par­ently en­joyed hav­ing sexual in­ter­course with you when you were only twelve. But then his pat­tern changed and he merely gave his cun­ni­lin­gual at­ten­tions to you.

	A. Is that what it‘s called? Cunni …

	Q. Cun­ni­lin­gus is the term that is used to ex­plain oral love upon a wo­man—the mouth­ing or lick­ing or tonguing of the gen­italia.

	A. Oh.

	Q. What‘s wrong?

	A. I guess I‘m a little em­bar­rassed. Hear­ing it ex­plained in cold terms like that makes me feel a little funny.

	Q. I see. Well, back to the al­leged uncle. Tell me, when he ceased in­ter­course and con­fined him­self to cun­ni­lin­gus, did he have a re­ac­tion to the act? Did he ex­per­i­ence a cli­max?

	A. I don‘t think so.

	Q. Did you?

	A. Yes.

	Q. But you did not have an or­gasm from the act of in­ter­course? A. No.

	Q. Did you and your uncle con­tinue as lov­ers over a very long period? A. Yes. And let me say this. About what we were just dis­cuss­ing—my uncle switch­ing his tech­nique, so to speak. I think I know the reason for it.

	Q. Tell me about it, Karen.

	A. Well, I don‘t think that he ever in­ten­ded that—that cun­ni­lin­gus should be the en­tire act, that he should be do­ing that for me without get­ting any­thing out of it him­self. But, you see, I could never—never—stay very long. Some­times he would just start caress­ing me there and I‘d—have a cli­max. And then I‘d be through. I couldn‘t bear to be touched then, not to have any­thing done to me and not for me to do any­thing, either. My uncle al­ways looked very dis­gus­ted, but I re­mem­ber that he was known to be a pa­tient man in other re­spects. And be­sides, he star­ted to do some other things while he was do­ing that to me. You know, shift his weight around and change his po­s­i­tion so that he‘d be stretched out with his thighs and his—with all of him by my face. And I know he wanted me to—to—love him that way. Or­ally.

	Q. Did you ever do this?

	A. Just once. I hated it. But I didn‘t get very far, for my mother came upon us and went into a fury. After the uncle went scoot­ing, my mother beat the day­lights out of me, and all the time she kept say­ing how men were dirty and that at least I was lucky that my uncle hadn‘t put that ‚thing‘ in­side me, be­cause then I‘d be go­ing crazy and wind­ing up in a men­tal hos­pital for the rest of my life. My mother didn‘t know that we had prac­ticed in­ter­course. I didn‘t tell her. I was just scared to death. For years and years. And I guess I still am.

	Q. And that was your last ex­per­i­ence with a man? A. First and last.

	Q. And then you went to wo­men, or girls? A. Yes.

	Q. Is there any ex­per­i­ence of your life—your rather young life—that in­dic­ates to you the reason for your les­bi­an­ism?

	A. Cer­tainly. I‘m sure that all this busi­ness with my uncle made me afraid of men—all men, es­pe­cially the sexu­al­ity of them. As an ex­ample, I think I still am, for in the classes where there is a man pro­fessor, I do poorly, but when I have a wo­man in­structor, I do ex­cep­tion­ally well in my work. And I think there‘s an­other reason for it, too. I‘m a Negro. Be­ing a Negro is not like any­thing else in the world. In spite of civil rights and everything else, be­ing colored is very dif­fer­ent than you, or any white per­son, can ima­gine. I think this af­fects our sex life—some of us any­way—be­cause I re­mem­ber al­ways think­ing of the world as white, and me as dirty black. And I re­mem­ber the stor­ies my mother used to tell about the South, how white men raped colored girls and everything. I think that some place along the line of grow­ing up, I got feel­ing that man was white—all men—and that the worst thing that could hap­pen would be for his—his ... penis to enter a girl. To enter me. And so I think I was di­ver­ted away from men and to­ward wo­men at a very early age.

	Q. How do you ac­count for the fact that your uncle—your first sexual part­ner—was colored. By the way, he was, wasn‘t he?

	A. Yes, he was colored. And I ac­count for it this way: My uncle, any black man, was really white as far as my sub­con­scious went. Be­cause he was a man, he was really white—male and white to­gether, don‘t you see? So it didn‘t mat­ter how he looked on the out­side. That could be a dis­guise or some­thing to my girl­ish mind. But to me, male and white were the same hor­rible thing, and I just could not ever have any­thing to do with them.

	Q. Are white girls some­times your lov­ers? A. I‘m go­ing with a white girl now.

	Q. And you‘ve gone with other white girls? In what ra­tio, please, to colored girls? A. I prefer white girls. I go with them most of the time. I‘ve only been in­volved with a couple of Negro girls, and it wasn‘t very sat­is­fact­ory. But do you see my reas­on­ing? Am I right in these con­clu­sions I have come to? Q. I think there are areas where you are some­what cor­rect, but I also think that there is a great deal here that is not touched in such an in­ter­view as this one.

	A. You mean that be­cause I‘m a les­bian, I should have a psy­cho­ana­lysis? Q. Not ne­ces­sar­ily. But, if you are dis­sat­is­fied with your life, if you failed to func­tion well, well then, it might be in­dic­ated. What do you think about it? A. I don‘t know. Some­times I‘m pretty un­happy.

	Q. Well, at least you know that should you want an in­ter­view or even treat­ment, it is avail­able to you here at the uni­ver­sity by merely see­ing your coun­selor and ar­ran­ging an in­ter­view with a qual­i­fied ther­ap­ist.

	A. I‘d prob­ably get just a case­worker—some hammy char­ac­ter who doesn‘t have it to make it all the way as a psy­cho­lo­gist or psy­chi­at­rist.

	Q. Oh, no, I don‘t think so. I‘m sure a well-qual­i­fied ther­ap­ist would be made avail­able to you. And there‘s some­thing else, too, Karen, that I‘m go­ing to take the liberty of men­tion­ing al­though it has little to do with the pur­pose of this in­ter­view.

	A. What‘s that, Doc­tor?

	Q. Con­sider this. You vo­lun­teered for this study. I‘m sure there‘s a reason that you don‘t re­cog­nize. I‘m sure you sub­mit­ted to this in­ter­view—to a psy­chi­at­ric in­ter­view—be­cause you wanted this les­bi­an­ism—this dis­tor­tion—of your­self to be presen­ted to a ther­ap­ist, in this in­stance, my­self, and I think that you sub­con­sciously wanted this be­cause you had hoped that you might re­solve your prob­lems by this single in­ter­view. So, you see, I think you really do want help.

	A. It‘s pos­sible. It makes a little sense, I guess. But I‘ll have to wait and see.

	Q. Yes, do that, Karen, then when you‘re ready, go ahead and make the ar­range­ments for treat­ment.

	A. I might do that.

	Q. I hope you do. And thank you very much for your con­tri­bu­tion to this study. We all ap­pre­ci­ate it.

	A. Thank you.

	CASE HIS­TORY

	Sub­ject: Nine­teen-year-old sopho­more, white, case name, Den­ise.

	Q. You are a very pretty young lady, Den­ise. And I un­der­stand from the pre in­ter­view of this study that you are very pop­u­lar with the male stu­dents on cam­pus.

	A. Well, thank you for the com­pli­ments, but I don‘t think it‘s as strong as you have put it. But thank you any­way.

	Q. Do you like to be flattered?

	A. Any girl does. Dr.-, I can just tell that you‘re work­ing up to some­thing else.

	Q. You‘re quite right, Den­ise.

	A. Then why don‘t you just go ahead and pro­ceed with the in­ter­view for this study.

	Q. Right. Den­ise, are you a les­bian?

	A. Not ac­tu­ally.

	Q. What do you mean by that re­mark?

	A. That I have had af­fairs with girls.

	Q. Are you bi­sexual?

	A. I guess you could call it that. I‘ve also had sexual re­la­tions with boys.

	Q. Do you have a pref­er­ence?

	A. Yes, I like girls best.

	Q. Why?

	A. Oh, I‘ve never con­sidered it too much, but I guess you could say I‘m hap­pier with them.

	Q. Do you per­haps mean more sexu­ally com­fort­able with girls? A. Maybe. But as I said. I‘ve never con­sidered it very much.

	Q. Is there per­haps an ele­ment of sexual grat­i­fic­a­tion here? That is, do you re­ceive a greater thrill from sexual re­la­tions with girls than you do with boys?

	A. That seems pretty right.

	Q. Do you ex­per­i­ence an or­gasm with both males and fe­males? A. Some­times.

	Q. Is there a greater in­tens­ity when your cli­max is achieved with a girl rather than with a boy?

	A. It de­pends upon the other per­son. You know, I really can‘t un­der­stand it my­self. Some­times I wish I could.

	Q. Then this di­lemma is up­set­ting for you isn‘t it? A. A little. There are times when I won­der how this would af­fect my fu­ture, and I even get won­der­ing if per­haps the se­cur­ity of mar­riage might straighten things out for me. One girl I knew and went with for al­most a year fi­nally got mar­ried and she never con­sidered hav­ing an­other les­bian af­fair. Maybe it will turn out like that for me, too.

	Q. Maybe. But tell me, when you already ad­mit that you prefer fe­males to males, why do you even bother with boys?

	A. I don‘t like to think of my­self as totally queer! I‘m not that much of a rebel.

	Q. Then you be­lieve in some of the prin­ciples of the so­ci­ety in which you live? A. I be­lieve in many of so­ci­ety‘s rules.

	Q. But you will vi­ol­ate them in secret, while on the sur­face you ap­pear as an av­er­age—above av­er­age—col­lege co-ed, is that right?

	A. If you say it is, Dr. -. But frankly, I‘m not go­ing to worry about these things or try to ana­lyze them un­til I get older.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Sub­ject: Eight­een-year-old fe­male, white, col­lege fresh­man, case name, Eliza­beth, daugh­ter of a pro­fes­sional man.

	It was sug­ges­ted by one of the study com­mis­sion mem­bers that a bit of back­ground re­gard­ing this sub­ject would be help­ful for a bet­ter un­der­stand­ing of the tran­scribed ma­ter­ial.

	Eliza­beth is the gif­ted daugh­ter of ex­cep­tional par­ents. Her father is a re­search so­ci­olo­gist at a renowned col­lege. Eliza­beth‘s mother is a con­cert pi­an­ist who has played the ma­jor sym­phonic en­gage­ments of the na­tion. Eliza­beth, too, is a gif­ted mu­si­cian, ex­cel­ling at pi­ano, vi­olin, and the harp.

	Eliza­beth‘s en­vir­on­ment, from the mo­ment of her birth, was cul­tur­ally and in­tel­lec­tu­ally centered. Her schol­astic test­ing scores dur­ing her sec­ond­ary edu­ca­tion, de­noted a near-genius level. And, con­trary to the usual test­ing achieve­ment res­ults, Eliza­beth was shown to vary no more than .00039% between sub­jects tested. Eliza­beth did equally well in phys­ics, chem­istry, tri­go­no­metry, Eng­lish lit­er­at­ure, Amer­ican lit­er­at­ure and the Ro­mance lan­guages. Eliza­beth was also pretty, pop­u­lar, ac­cep­ted by peers and adults alike, served as school cheer­leader, ed­itor of the Year­book, pres­id­ent of the Na­tional Honor So­ci­ety, and held of­fice in more clubs than any one stu­dent in her school‘s his­tory.

	Q. Well, Eliza­beth, I am de­lighted that you vo­lun­teered for this in­ter­view. Do you know the pur­pose of it?

	A. Yes, sir. I‘ve already been in­ter­viewed once, you know.

	Q. That was the pre in­ter­view. It was to es­tab­lish your will­ing­ness to co­oper­ate and other things.

	A. This is sup­posed to be some­thing like a new Kin­sey Re­port, isn‘t it? Q. Not ex­actly. We‘re try­ing to es­tab­lish sexual pat­terns of fe­male col­lege stu­dents.

	A. But can any kind of pat­tern really be es­tab­lished by in­ter­view­ing the stu­dents of just one col­lege? These things vary, I‘d say, from one cli­mate to an­other, the type of school, its prestige and the stu­dents who are at­trac­ted to it. Isn‘t that right?

	Q. Of course. But we‘re mak­ing a be­gin­ning and will in fact unite our stud­ies with those that are go­ing to be made at other schools.

	A Oh, I see. That‘s very in­ter­est­ing.

	Q. Yes. And now to the in­ter­view.

	A. I‘m ready. I‘ll try to an­swer all your ques­tions as hon­estly as I know how.

	Q. Fine. Eliza­beth, you‘re only eight­een, which is young but not ne­ces­sar­ily a sexu­ally un­soph­ist­ic­ated age. So tell me, do you con­sider your­self sexu­ally soph­ist­ic­ated?

	A Do you mean do I con­sider my­self know­ledge­able about sex—about all ele­ments of it?

	Q. Yes.

	A. I would an­swer yes to that.

	Q. Have you, or do you, have sexual re­la­tions? A. I have had, but presently I am not in­volved in a love af­fair.

	Q. Why?

	A. I‘m try­ing to fig­ure a few things out for my­self. I‘ve broken off with my lover—it was my idea. This way I can in­vest­ig­ate my true feel­ings about love and sex and everything.

	Q. It‘s un­usual to find a girl as in­tro­spect­ive as you are about sex and love. Is there a reason for this?

	A. No doubt. Of course I‘ve al­ways been pretty in­tense about my feel­ings. I like to know why I do the things I do, whether they‘re good or bad. But there‘s an­other reason: My love af­fair has not been very con­ven­tional.

	Q. Then it was un­con­ven­tional?

	A. Yes. You see, my lover for the past six months has been an­other girl. She‘s—well, she‘s a com­plete les­bian. She‘s also very charm­ing and sweet and con­sid­er­ate. When I told her I was break­ing off in or­der to think things over, she didn‘t raise a single ob­jec­tion, al­though I know she wanted to. And if she had, truth­fully, I don‘t think I could have res­isted her ar­gu­ments. Not any of them. You see, it‘s quite pos­sible that I‘m in love with her—in love with her just as strongly as some girls fall in love with boys. And I have to think about it, fig­ure it all out.

	Q. Is this your first les­bian af­fair?

	A Yes.

	Q. Have you had sexual af­fairs with boys? A. Not in­ter­course. I‘ve pet­ted with them, of course.

	Q. Did you like it? Find it at all grat­i­fy­ing? A. Yes, right up un­til the time when they star­ted to get ser­i­ous—star­ted to force me into hav­ing in­ter­course; then I‘d get frightened and not like any of it any­more.

	Q. Then you are still a vir­gin, right?

	A. In re­spect to men, yes.

	Q. Do you mean that you con­sider your­self not a vir­gin be­cause of your les­bian ex­per­i­ences? A. Yes. You see, to me, vir­gin­ity means more than a dis­place­ment of the hy­men. I look at it in terms of cli­max.

	Q. You‘ve ex­per­i­enced sexual cli­maxes with this girl? A. Yes. Every time.

	Q. You say that with a rather proud tone. Are you proud that you‘ve ex­per­i­enced this? A. Per­haps. I do know that many wo­men—even wo­men who have been mar­ried for years, hap­pily mar­ried like my mother, never ex­per­i­enced an or­gasm, so per­haps it is some­thing to be proud of whether it comes from an­other wo­man or from a man.

	Q. Would you say that your abil­ity at achiev­ing a cli­max with this girl is the strongest tie between you?

	A. Un­doubtedly. And of course, be­cause of this, other things seem right too. We en­joy the same things, we‘re con­sid­er­ate of each other, things like that, and I think these things de­velop be­cause we have shared such a har­mo­ni­ous sex life.

	Q. But this same kind of har­mony could be found in a het­ero­sexual life, too, couldn‘t it? A. I don‘t know. I‘ve never had that ex­per­i­ence.

	Q. You men­tioned that your mother has never known a sexual cli­max. How have you come upon this know­ledge?

	A. My mother told me. I sup­pose that seems odd. Maybe it is, but my par­ents are un­usual. From the time I was a little girl, we‘ve shared al­most every thought. Mother was away a lot on tour, and my father al­ways deeply in­volved in ex­tra pro­jects at the col­leges where he taught, so when we were to­gether, we talked about everything. And every ques­tion I asked was al­ways answered. Q. Did you ask your mother if she achieved sexual cli­maxes.

	A. No, not like that. I don‘t re­mem­ber the ex­act cir­cum­stances, but I do re­mem­ber ask­ing her if there was some ‚end‘ or ‚res­ult‘ from two people mak­ing love, and my mother replied that for some wo­men and all men there was, but that she was not one of these wo­men, and then she ex­plained what was to be ex­pec­ted from an or­gasm. I asked her if she was sorry that she didn‘t get a cli­max, and she smiled and looked a little woe­ful and said that yes, she was sorry that she didn‘t have that ex­per­i­ence to add to all the other won­der­ful ex­per­i­ences she had already had in life.

	Q. This is very in­ter­est­ing. Do you think that it is pos­sible that you have felt a little su­per­ior to your mother be­cause of hav­ing cli­maxes, but that you also feel guilty about it, and be­cause of the guilt you have con­ten­ted your­self with a les­bian as a lover in­stead of a man? You know, in or­der not to show mother up too badly.

	A. Per­haps.

	Q. And isn‘t it also pos­sible that when you were in­volved with boys that you denied them ac­cess to you out of fear of achiev­ing a cli­max, for if that had happened you would have topped your mother in very def­in­ite terms—achieved with a man what she had been un­able to achieve?

	A. It seems to make sense.

	Q. So you cling to the cli­max more than the sub­ject, I would say. The sub­ject, be­ing a fe­male, is less threat­en­ing to you. Yet you are able to con­tinue to feed that part of your­self which seeks to de­feat the mother, prob­ably due in your case to the fact that your mother has al­ways been such an astound­ing suc­cess in her pro­fes­sion.

	A. I really don‘t know. This is part of my prob­lem, I‘m pretty sure. It‘s one of the things I have to fig­ure out for my­self. That‘s why I‘ve taken a little break in this love af­fair—to think things over and get them straight in my mind.

	Q. I hope you suc­ceed, Eliza­beth.

	A. So do I.

	Q. If your uni­ver­sity coun­sel­ing ser­vice can help, don‘t hes­it­ate to call upon the people who are avail­able to help you.

	A. Thank you. I‘ll re­mem­ber that.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Sub­ject: Nine­teen-year-old fe­male, col­lege ju­nior, white, case name, Janette; an ex­cep­tional fe­male ath­lete.

	Q. You plan to be a phys­ical edu­ca­tion teacher, don‘t you, Janette? A. Those are my plans at the present time.

	Q. It seems like a likely pro­fes­sion for you. I see that you may be a mem­ber of the Olympic track team.

	A. I hope so.

	Q. Do you know just what you vo­lun­teered for in this in­ter­view? A. Oh, yes. You want to find out why I‘m a les­bian.

	Q. No. As a mat­ter of fact, I didn‘t know you were a les­bian.

	A. I‘m sur­prised. Every­one seems to know it. And every time there‘s an in­ter­view con­cern­ing sex, I‘m usu­ally asked to par­ti­cip­ate, so I nat­ur­ally as­sume that people want to pick me apart and see why I am a les­bian.

	Q. No, I‘m not in­ter­ested in pick­ing you apart. I‘m only in­ter­ested in col­lect­ing data for this in­vest­ig­a­tion of the gen­eral sex life on a col­lege cam­pus.

	A. Don‘t feel bad. I don‘t care. Pick me apart all you want. I really don‘t mind a bit.

	Q. All right then, we‘ll do it your way. Let‘s pick a bit.

	A. Yes, let‘s.

	Q. How long have you been a les­bian?

	A. Since I was four­teen.

	Q. Have you ever had re­la­tions with males? A. Yes. When I was fif­teen, I tried boys for sev­eral months and I didn‘t really en­joy them very much.

	Q. But you al­ways en­joy girls?

	A. Yes.

	Q. Any par­tic­u­lar girl?

	A. Some­times. But right now, I‘m play­ing the field.

	Q. You mean you go out, and have sex, with dif­fer­ent girls? A. Yes. Right now, I like that bet­ter than be­ing tied down to a par­tic­u­lar girl. Also, I get quite a bang out of mak­ing the new fresh­man girls when they enter school. And be­lieve me, they‘re not all as shocked by me as you might think.

	Q. I think you like to shock people. Is that right? A. I guess I do. I like to see the ex­pres­sions on their faces when I say some­thing that really jars them.

	Q. Are you an act­ive or pass­ive part­ner in a les­bian af­fair? A. Can‘t you tell? Q. No.

	A. Well, I‘m sur­prised. I thought it stood out like a sore thumb. I‘m act­ive, of course.

	Q. Why ”of course?“

	A. Don‘t I seem more like a man—an ag­gressor—than a pass­ive girl? Q. I think that‘s ir­rel­ev­ant. Tell me, is your en­tire life now planned around your les­bi­an­ism? I mean, has this had an ef­fect on your ca­reer, the things you do, everything? A. Oh, yes, de­cidedly so. If I weren‘t a les­bian, I doubt that I‘d be in­ter­ested in be­com­ing a phys­ical edu­ca­tion teacher. But, be­cause I am a lez, there is an in­duce­ment for me to enter this field of work.

	Q. What is the in­duce­ment?

	A. The young girls who will be my pu­pils, of course. And if that seems too can­did for you, just re­mem­ber that a lot of men enter the teach­ing pro­fes­sion for the same reason—to be around young girls. Young boys, too, for some of the queer­ies.

	Q. I ima­gine this is true in some cases. And your an­swers can­not be too can­did for me.

	A. You don‘t shock, eh?

	Q. No. Now then, you‘ve stated that for roughly five years—since you were four­teen—you‘ve in­volved your­self with girls as sexual part­ners. You‘ve said, too, that you did have af­fairs with boys dur­ing your six­teenth year. Tell me, do you have an ex­plan­a­tion why fe­males are more ap­peal­ing to you than males?

	A. I feel dif­fer­ently about them. I guess that‘s the only way to ex­plain it.

	Q. Will you go into it a little more deeply, please? A. It‘s like this. I‘m strong, not really rough, but as strong as a girl can be. It‘s al­most as if I wasn‘t meant to be a girl at all. I‘ve al­ways been able to beat most boys at phys­ical things. But the girls, the av­er­age girl, well, I feel a little sorry for her. She‘s so weak—kind of needs tak­ing care of. And I like to be that way with girls, look after them, pro­tect them, things like that.

	Q. You mean look after them in a fash­ion that is more of­ten the role of a male? A. Maybe. And when I make love to them, even when I‘m be­ing strong and kind of mas­ter­ful, I still am gentle, too. And it seems that they‘re my re­spons­ib­il­ity—my prop­erty, ac­tu­ally.

	Q. When you men­tioned love­mak­ing just now, you re­ferred to it as the kind of act that a man would per­form with a wo­man. Do you make love to girls that way?

	A. I‘m not all oral, if that‘s what you mean.

	Q. How do you make love to your girls? A. Very much like a man makes love to a wo­man. I have what I guess you‘d call an overly de­veloped clit­oris. I—I use it like a man with a girl.

	Q. You enter her?

	A Some­times. Some­times just the con­tact of my clit­oris against hers will be suf­fi­cient to give us both a cli­max.

	Q. And this is sat­is­fy­ing to you?

	A. The most sat­is­fy­ing thing in the world.

	Q. How of­ten do you have af­fairs?

	A. As of­ten as I can. Some­times it‘s as if I can‘t get enough.

	Q. And you find all your part­ners on cam­pus. All the girls with whom you co­habit are stu­dents here?

	A. Al­most ex­clus­ively. I did go with a wait­ress in town for a while, but that didn‘t last long. There are more girls at­trac­ted to other girls on cam­pus than you might think. I‘ve had many girls from the theatre art ma­jors. They seem to gather in force there. Of course, there are more queer boys there, too, and maybe that makes a dif­fer­ence.

	Q. Does it bother you to defy con­ven­tion? A. Not a bit.

	Q. You are not un­com­fort­able be­ing a les­bian? A. Not at all. And as far as con­ven­tion goes, some­times it seems to me that it would be more un­con­ven­tional to be straight. As I said be­fore, there are more homos of both sexes on this cam­pus than you could ever ima­gine.

	Q. As­sum­ing that this is true, do you have any opin­ion as to the reason? I‘d truly be in­ter­ested in your opin­ion if you have one.

	A. Well, I‘ve thought about this a good deal, and I‘ve dis­cussed it with friends, too. Now, in my own case, I really think there is a phys­ical con­nec­tion between les­bi­an­ism and my­self. But most of it is emo­tional, and I think there are a lot of reas­ons. Com­pet­i­tion is one of them, I think. There‘s a lot of it today. In everything. Some­times a girl doesn‘t fit into com­pet­i­tion, and be­cause she doesn‘t, she‘s made to feel off­beat, so she really be­comes off-beat by turn­ing to those things, and they‘re usu­ally sexual and dir­ec­ted at the love of someone of the same sex. And an­other reason is the con­ven­tions you men­tioned. People today get so sick of con­ven­tions and be­ing like every­one else that they‘ll do al­most any­thing to show that they are dif­fer­ent. You see, there is a cer­tain phoni­ness con­nec­ted with be­ing con­ven­tional. We see people be­ing con­ven­tional about all the things that show, things they can keep hid­den. So when we be­come queer­ies, in a way we‘re be­ing more hon­est than the dopes who live one kind of life on the out­side and an­other on the in­side. At least our les­bi­an­ism shows all the time—for most of us it does, any­way.

	Q. Do you ever en­ter­tain any ideas about not liv­ing a les­bian-ori­ented life? A. Not any­more.

	Q. You did once?

	A. Oh, yes. At the be­gin­ning and for quite a few years after it star­ted I used to re­mon­strate with my­self. I‘d tell my­self all the things that I was giv­ing up. Things like mar­ried life, a fam­ily, chil­dren, things like that. But then I stopped fight­ing the thoughts that it was bad and dis­gust­ing, and now I don‘t have this con­flict within me any­more.

	Q. Have you con­sidered psy­cho­ana­lysis as a method of resolv­ing your prob­lem? A. It‘s not a prob­lem for me.

	Q. It‘s against the law.

	A. So is al­most everything.

	Q. Then you‘ve never con­sidered en­ter­ing treat­ment for the pur­pose of put­ting this prob­lem to rest, if not solv­ing it com­pletely?

	A. No, you see, it‘s too late for me.

	Q. At nine­teen, it‘s too late?

	A. Yes. I‘m hooked. I just can‘t see my­self as the happy little fe­male be­ing led by the hand by the big, strong male. I can‘t see my­self wip­ing little kids‘ noses or giv­ing birth or fix­ing din­ner for a hus­band or do­ing any of these things that so many young chicks think are so di­vine. It‘s just not for me. I‘m hooked on the girls, and I don‘t have any in­ten­tion of chan­ging. I couldn‘t even if I wanted to.

	Q. Ana­lysis wouldn‘t ne­ces­sar­ily stop you from be­ing a les­bian. It might do noth­ing more than make you more com­fort­able with your way of life.

	A. I‘m com­fort­able enough.

	Q. I won­der if you really are.

	A. I am. You can be sure of it.

	Q. Well, should you ever change your …

	A. Change my mind? Don‘t worry, I won‘t.


CHAPTER NINE­TEEN

CASE HIS­TORY

	Rena had traveled with the In-So­ci­ety crowd for a year be­fore she learned that a feather duster could ex­cite her pussy and turn on her total sexu­al­ity. And then she learned about the other end of the duster.

	At sev­en­teen, Rena had traveled the world with her par­ents; mother, an am­a­teur artist, father the ex­ec­ut­ive chief of the over­seas di­vi­sion of a huge bank­ing firm. Un­til her six­teenth year, Rena had al­ways known the com­pan­ion­ship of her brother, only a year her senior, but when he turned eight­een and re­turned to the United States for full-time at­tend­ance at an East­ern col­lege, Rena was at loose ends for many months. It was this loss of an in­tim­ate com­pan­ion and the res­ult­ant limbo of activ­ity that fol­lowed, that led Rena to seek dif­fer­ent kinds of sexual thrills.

	A month after her brother de­par­ted for col­lege, Rena took up with a wild beach crowd that squandered their time and tal­ent on non­sense, ve­get­at­ing, and try­ing to think of new ex­per­i­ments in sex­ology. Rena was at­trac­ted to them im­me­di­ately and when one of the lead­ers, a hand­some, young man of twenty-one, se­duced her, she knew that she was ”in“ with the In-So­ci­ety crowd. She liked that. But she was ter­ribly dis­ap­poin­ted that the sex act she had par­ti­cip­ated in had offered her no more ex­cite­ment than had her three pre­vi­ous ex­per­i­ences with in­ter­course. She had de­par­ted the boy‘s nude body without grat­i­fic­a­tion—without hav­ing ex­al­ted in the thrill of cli­max. She was nearly sick about it, but this mark of her ac­cept­ance by the dash­ing group offered her the com­pens­a­tion she needed to tem­por­ar­ily sub­due the frus­tra­tion of her body. She didn‘t really think about all that she had missed un­til the crowd one night began a frank dis­cus­sion of their own re­sponses to sexual stim­u­lants.

	The con­ver­sa­tion had drif­ted from aph­ro­dis­i­acs to ex­per­i­ments in mul­tiple love scenes un­til fi­nally a girl men­tioned that she had once stud­ied about a nat­ive tribe that had de­veloped ”tick­ling“ to a high level in or­der to achieve the ul­ti­mate in sexual cli­max.

	”That sounds crazy,“ Rena de­clared. ”And I mean crazy crazy—not crazy!“

	”Maybe to you,“ the girl said, ”but be­lieve me, dearie, it‘s really ‚in‘ among the nat­ives.“

	”Really?“

	”Really, dearie.“

	”Ever try it?“ a boy asked the girl who had brought up the topic.

	”Of course,“ the girl replied.

	”Do any­thing for you?“ the boy asked.

	”No,“ she ad­mit­ted.

	The crowd roared.

	Then the girl said. ”But just be­cause it didn‘t work for me doesn‘t mean it doesn‘t work for oth­ers. You see, it‘s really very lo­gical. The one be­ing tickled is ac­know­ledging the ag­gres­sions of a type of at­tacker at the same time that she knows the act is a fun thing—some­thing for kids or for adults to re­gress to.“

	”Man—that‘s lo­gical?“ an­other boy asked.

	They laughed again, then dropped the sub­ject. But Rena con­tin­ued to think about it and con­sider it in terms of her own sexu­al­ity and her re­cent in­ab­il­ity to re­spond with an or­gasm to the act of in­ter­course. And then one day, quite by co­in­cid­ence, she en­countered a huge feather duster in the lib­rary of her home. Im­me­di­ately, she de­cided to ex­per­i­ment with it.

	Alone in her room and stand­ing in front of a full-length mir­ror, Rena tickled her na­ked body with the ends of the feather duster. She felt a stir of sen­su­al­ity, but it did not en­large. She played the tickled at the very ends of her nipples. They grew hard, as hard as her nipples had ever been, but she still did not feel a suf­fi­cient rising of her emo­tions that would prom­ise any­thing more than she presently knew. She lowered the feather ends to her round stom­ach and circled them there. Again she felt stirred, but with in­ad­equate en­ergy. She moved the feather duster to her thighs. Here, she felt the sud­den growth of heat and the quiver of her thighs that ac­com­pan­ied it, but still it was not enough.

	Rena gave up with the feather duster. But at the very next gath­er­ing of her friends, she, hop­ing to sound even more worldly than they, men­tioned her ex­per­i­ment. And she con­fessed that it did noth­ing to dash her to a frantic end.

	”That‘s be­cause you were do­ing the tick­ling,“ a boy who was older than the oth­ers said.

	”Maybe that‘s the trouble,“ Rena agreed, nod­ding her head as the oth­ers did the same.

	”Why don‘t you let me try it with you?“ the boy said.

	”Be­cause you haven‘t asked,“ she answered.

	”I‘m ask­ing now.“

	”Okay. Let‘s go. The feather duster is at the house and my folks are away for the even­ing.“

	Rena and the boy, Hank, paused in the lib­rary and had a high­ball. Then they re­tired to Rena‘s large, up­stairs bed­room.

	”Bet­ter get out of that,“ the boy sug­ges­ted, nod­ding to the skimpy shorts and peas­ant blouse she wore.

	”Not much to get out of,“ she said, feel­ing a sud­den flush of em­bar­rass­ment.

	”It all counts,“ the boy said. ”And, to make you feel at ease, I‘ll do the same.“ Rena did not feel less em­bar­rassed as the boy stepped na­ked from his cloth­ing. But she did feel a good deal more ex­cited than she had been. And, it offered her the con­fid­ence that was needed to strip her­self of her cloth­ing.

	Rena handed the boy the feather duster. They em­braced. Then they sep­ar­ated and Rena moved to the bed. She flopped upon it and stretched on her back. The boy, feather duster in hand, stepped to the edge of the bed and looked down at her.

	Very slowly, work­ing like an artist, the boy began to play the ends of the feath­ers over Rena‘s body. He tickled at her neck and shoulders and at her breasts where he lingered, tip­ping the ends against her hard nipples with the most del­ic­ate mo­tion. Rena felt her body heat and her emo­tions jam in a kind of hurry as if they all wished to reach a peak and exit her body at the same time. The boy moved the feath­ers to her belly, then up to her arms where he worked them into the armpits. Then he moved it away and brought it to her thighs. Rena moaned in pleas­ure. Her eyes slanted in strain. The boy plunged the feath­ers closer to her and tickled with ex­cru­ci­at­ing care. And Rena felt a very genu­ine cramp of de­sire. She braced her legs fur­ther apart and arched up­ward in an at­tempt to make a closer con­tact between her­self and the feath­ers. The boy worked harder with the feath­ers, try­ing, and suc­ceed­ing, it seemed, to keep his own de­sires un­der con­trol while he ex­er­ted in be­half of Rena‘s pleas­ure. Soon, her body writhed and she cried out little sounds of de­light. Then she star­ted to arch frantic­ally, but she could not in­crease the feel­ing within her, to bring it to that peak that would carry her over the plat­eau of ut­most thrill. Her body was bathed in per­spir­a­tion, and the boy‘s body was as wet, with trickles of sweat run­ning down his chest and his stom­ach and into his pu­bic hair. His prick was stand­ing erect and hard, throb­bing with an­ti­cip­a­tion.

	Sud­denly, Rena grabbed the feather duster from his hands and began flick­ing it taunt­ingly across his chest, at his belly but­ton, and fi­nally dab­bing it, swirl­ing it around his hard cock and his balls. This was too much for the boy. It had been all he could do to con­trol him­self while he wiel­ded the feather duster, tick­ling her body—es­pe­cially her pussy. How he had yearned to plunge his cock into that pink, moist open­ing. And, now, he could con­trol him­self no longer. He flung him­self on her—kiss­ing her madly around the mouth, and squeez­ing her breasts, pinch­ing the nipples into greater erec­tion. And his throb­bing prick forced it­self into her wait­ing pussy.

	They both gasped as it entered. The boy star­ted to work at once, pump­ing in and out fast and furi­ous. She knew he would come in just a few minutes—but she was not yet ready. Not yet.

	”No,“ she sobbed to him, ”wait!“

	He ig­nored her and con­tin­ued his fast pump­ing ac­tion. Then, Rena real­ized she still had the feather duster in her hand. She star­ted swish­ing it at his but­tocks, his balls, and the tips of some of the feath­ers touched ever so lightly at her pussy lips and her own but­tocks. But the sen­sa­tion was not enough; she knew she‘d never make it this way. Now she was sud­denly angry with the boy. Why couldn‘t he wait for her? In an­ger, and in or­der to pun­ish him for his lack of con­trol, she re­versed the feather duster and jabbed the pol­ished wooden handle of it at his as­shole. It was hard to aim without look­ing, but after two or three tries, she hit it. She worked the handle slowly but surely up his as­shole, push­ing hard, but not jab­bing. Sud­denly, all his move­ments ceased; he arched his back and raised up—pulling his hard prick part of the way out of her cunt. He moaned and shuddered all over. ”Is he hav­ing a cli­max?“ she wondered. But no, she real­ized at once that this was not the case. Then it must be the pain that is get­ting him, she de­cided. But that wasn‘t ex­actly it, either. He took the feather duster from her hand, but in­stead of pulling it out of his as­shole, as she ex­pec­ted him to do, he care­fully pushed it in fur­ther and fur­ther, groan­ing and grunt­ing all the while.

	”Oh, God,“ he muttered, ”God, that feels wild.“ Now he began his pump­ing again, but this time slowly, work­ing his pel­vis in a ro­tat­ing move­ment while his ra­ging cock pushed in and out. Rena grabbed the feather duster again and began work­ing it slowly in and out of his as­shole, each move­ment for­cing a gasp or a moan from his lips. They went on now, to­gether, and soon she felt the slow, con­stant work­ing build­ing her up to the cli­max she so longed for. She was al­most there, just on the very verge, when she felt his body be­gin to jerk and shud­der. She pumped harder and harder with the duster handle, faster and faster—and he met the strokes by push­ing his cock in and out at the same speed, pulling out and back just as she thrust in with the handle. He was al­most frantic, now, moan­ing, groan­ing, al­most scream­ing. She knew some­thing more was needed—but what? She reached down with her other hand and squeezed at his balls. That did it. He let out little yelps of pleas­ure-pain as his whole body jerked and shook with the force of his or­gasm. And this was just enough to throw her over the brink. Rena writhed with the vi­ol­ence of her cli­max; she had made it.

	A few weeks later, Rena brought an­other boy home, a young, well-built fel­low named Chuck. She de­scribed the scene with the feather duster—just telling him the first part, the part where she was tickled.

	”That sounds groovy,“ Chuck told her.

	They de­cided to try it, but tak­ing turns, since Chuck wanted some of the tick­ling, too. Once they had their clothes off, Chuck took the duster and began to tickle Rena‘s breasts, then her ab­do­men, her pu­bic area. He made her raise her legs and spread them so he could get to her pussy. This is where it star­ted to get to her. She looked at Chuck‘s prick and saw that it had risen to stand al­most straight out in front of him—but it would jerk every so of­ten, as if Chuck was really en­joy­ing what he was do­ing. Her eyes went from Chuck‘s stiff cock to the handle of the feather duster. She found her­self com­par­ing the two: the handle was longer, but not as thick; it was straighter, but it was the same width all the way down, not equipped with a red, bell-shaped head, as Chuck‘s cock was. And, of course, it had no hole in the head.

	Then Chuck de­cided it was his turn. She got up and he lay on the bed, and she began to tickle him care­fully, brush­ing at his nipples, his arms and armpits, his stom­ach, his pu­bic area—es­pe­cially the pu­bic area. She wrapped the feath­ers around his cock and jabbed down, tick­ling the top part of his balls. He moaned at that, and she knew she was get­ting to him. Chuck sud­denly reached up and touched her breasts, flick­ing his fin­gers across her nipples as gently as the feath­ers. She leaned down a little, so he could reach her bet­ter, all the while con­tinu­ing to dust his cock and balls with the feath­ers. Soon, she was ly­ing down next to him on the bed. His hands by this time had moved down to play with her clit and one fin­ger squished in and out of her pussy. She could feel the warmth build­ing up in her. But she began to worry, ”Will I be able to make it this time?“ And the worry dis­trac­ted her and made it more dif­fi­cult to con­cen­trate on the sexual activ­ity.

	Chuck sensed that some­thing was wrong, that Rena had stopped re­spond­ing to his caresses. He took the duster from her hand and began brush­ing her body once more. He worked es­pe­cially at her tits and her thighs and pussy. Now she began re­lax­ing, again, and just gave her­self up to the tit­il­lat­ing sen­sa­tions. Sud­denly the tick­ling stopped, and she felt some­thing hard push­ing against her as­shole. She opened her eyes, about to protest, and saw that he had re­versed the duster and was jab­bing at her as­shole with the handle. She opened her mouth, but no protest came; in­stead, she felt a wave of ex­cite­ment spread­ing from her as­shole, en­gulf­ing her whole pu­bic area.

	Now Chuck swung her feet up over his shoulders, and, stand­ing at the edge of the bed, he pushed his hard cock at her as­shole, mean­while us­ing the duster handle to jab at her pussy. She moaned. But he could see that it was not go­ing to go in that eas­ily. He stopped, went over to her dresser and se­lec­ted a jar of what looked like face cream, smeared some of the goo on his hard cock and mas­saged it a couple of times; then he took some on the end of his fin­ger and smeared it on her as­shole—eli­cit­ing an­other moan from her. As an af­ter­thought, he smeared some of the cream on the handle of the feather duster. Then he raised her legs again and star­ted push­ing his tur­gid cock into the tight anal open­ing. Slowly she re­laxed, and slowly but stead­ily he pushed in, till, with a sud­den lunge, he was all the way in. He let his prick soak for a few minutes till she re­laxed again and got used to the feel­ing of it, and he tickled her cunt lips with the feath­ers while he waited.

	Soon she was quiv­er­ing with an­ti­cip­a­tion. She be­came very ex­cited—so ex­cited that she felt she couldn‘t stay still and had the urge to rock back and forth, and she began to shake and shud­der. But, at the same time, she felt im­paled. The cock up her ass was reach­ing some nerve that caused an ex­cru­ci­at­ing sen­sa­tion of pleas­ure-pain at the slight­est move­ment, and she wanted to stay very still. Con­sequently, she began to move in shud­der­ing jerks—first giv­ing vent to the urge to freeze, then ex­plod­ing into a vi­ol­ent writh­ing mo­tion, fol­lowed by an­other mo­ment of freez­ing, and so on.

	Chuck now began to work the greased handle of the duster up into her cunt. He worked it around and around, as he tent­at­ively began to move his torso back and forth, pulling his cock in and out of her as­shole. Rena was moan­ing, now, and seemed on the verge of scream­ing. Never be­fore had she felt so com­pletely filled, so totally taken. From sep­ar­ate sen­sa­tions, the two began to work to­gether into a rhythmic cres­cendo—the al­most un­bear­able fric­tion in her ass, and the warm, pulsat­ing fric­tion in her cunt. They built to­gether, now, pump­ing, for­cing, scream­ing for re­lease. And re­lease came at last in a flood of emo­tion; the ex­plos­ive sen­sa­tions were ripped out of her in­sides by the un­re­lent­ing de­mands of the wooden rod in her pussy and that al­most wooden prick pump­ing in her ass. While she was still at the peak of her or­gasm, Chuck sud­denly jerked his pel­vis sharply and let out an ag­on­ized cry of cli­max, and came in com­puls­ive spurts. He threw his arms up, drop­ping the feather duster on the floor, and col­lapsed onto her breast. There, he sought her mouth in a linger­ing kiss which she greed­ily answered with her own mouth.

	And thus it was that Rena dis­covered that a simple item such as a feather duster can yield up a world of de­light when it is used in the right way.


CASE HIS­TORY

	Jes­sica had been whipped reg­u­larly by her rough, tough, truck-driver father. He was less a dis­cip­lin­arian than he was a drunk who seemed to take great de­light in bru­tal­ity, es­pe­cially that which he is­sued to his daugh­ters.

	When Jes­sica was six­teen, she began res­ist­ing her father‘s beat­ings. She would fight him off, even run away if ne­ces­sary. But he al­ways caught her. Then, the beat­ing was worse, harsher, more de­moni­ac­ally in­voked upon her body.

	At a glance, or even at close ob­ser­va­tion, one would won­der why any man would wish to mar the body of such a ”daugh­ter. Jes­sica was quite tall, about five feet, seven inches, but her height was chastened by large breasts and a nar­row waist, by good, firm thighs and shapely legs. And all of her bod­ily beauty was topped by nat­ural au­burn hair, green eyes, and a spray of freckles around the bridge of her nose that made her seem younger and more in­no­cent than the truth of her years.

	Jes­sica was pop­u­lar with her peers and did bet­ter than av­er­age work at the high school where she was a ju­nior. Boys liked to date her be­cause she was such fun. She was also quite sexu­ally in­clined. Upon fa­vor­ite dates, she be­stowed her breasts for their touch and her sharp tongue for their ex­cited tak­ing. Some, she even al­lowed to touch be­neath her skirt at the silken smooth­ness of her thighs. But she al­lowed none of them the in­ter­course they wanted.

	One night when Jes­sica was mid­way in her six­teenth year, her father, drunk and ill-tempered, con­fron­ted her with an ac­cus­a­tion about her sexual con­duct with the boys she had been dat­ing. She denied promis­cu­ity. Her father raged. He lashed his hand out and struck her hard against the right cheek. Jes­sica caught her­self be­fore she star­ted to fall. When she righted her body, she turned and tried to flee. It was im­possible. Her father caught her as she tried to lock her­self in her bed­room.

	”Don‘t hit me again, damn it,“ she warned.

	He laughed.

	”Don‘t—I mean it,“ she said.

	”Christ, you‘re get­ting real up­pity, ain‘t you,“ the father de­clared. ”Well, guess I‘m just the one to take that up­pit­i­ness out of you. Guess I‘ll do it just like I did when you were a little kid.“

	Jes­sica star­ted to back away, but she was too slow. Her father caught her by both wrists, then wrestled her to the edge of the bed. He twis­ted her around and seated him­self on the bed. Then he forced her over his knee in that clas­sic po­s­i­tion of a child about to be whipped.

	He struck her hard upon the double moons of her but­tocks. Then he hit her again, harder, as she twis­ted to free her­self. Her large breasts crushed his knees as she wiggled to be free. And her father struck her again and again and again. And then he paused. But the lull was not one that was meant to free her. It was in­ten­ded to present more of her body for his strik­ing hand. With a quick mo­tion, he tore her panties down­ward to rest low on her legs. Then he hit her bare but­tocks with all his might.

	Sud­denly, Jes­sica‘s strug­gling ceased. She no longer wanted free­dom. In­stead, she wanted the con­tinu­ation of her father‘s strong hand against her bare but­tocks. And he ap­plied it bru­tally. A glow crept through Jes­sica‘s body. Then she grew hot and tense as her flesh smar­ted be­neath her father‘s hand. She felt the heat every­place, at her breasts where they crushed against her father‘s knees, at her but­tocks and thighs—every­where.

	Soon, as the father‘s hand reached a high peak of strik­ing, Jes­sica felt the swell within her­self that was her first re­lease for sexual out­let. She cried out, pre­tend­ing that the sound had come from pain. But it had not. It came from the im­mense jam and scramble of her sexual cli­max.

	Fi­nally, her father re­leased her. Jes­sica turned and flung her­self on the bed, bury­ing her face into the pil­lows as her father left the room. She could not un­der­stand what had happened to her, but she knew that it was akin to sexual re­lease, that it was that sen­sa­tion that the boys sought, that her girl friends pur­sued, that it was that cli­max that was meant for all hu­mans.

	Jes­sica, seek­ing to ex­per­i­ence that glor­i­ous feel­ing again, de­lib­er­ately ag­grav­ated her father at every op­por­tun­ity. She pro­voked his wrath by all man­ner and means, hop­ing for, and of­ten re­ceiv­ing, the spank­ing that brought her re­lief.

	Jes­sica con­tin­ued dat­ing boys. But with them, her love play took on a new en­deavor. Now, she teased and pro­voked and tried to en­gage them in the rough house play that might lead her to a cli­mactic end. Of­ten she was suc­cess­ful. When she was not, she was dis­traught and nervous. And then she de­vised a method of trade that provided her with the churn­ing re­lease she seemed al­ways to need.

	Sexual in­ter­course was fore­most on the minds of all her dates. Very can­didly, she told them that she would per­mit it if they would first spank her. Al­though many of them thought this odd, none re­fused the barter. And Jes­sica was treated to a spank­ing-in­duced or­gasm be­fore she would turn and open her­self to the sexual lust of her date. She re­ceived no thrill at all from in­ter­course. It was simply the gift she gave in or­der to know the more vi­tal gift of her own re­lease.
