Incestual Relations
by Joe Demean


FOREWORD 

Throughout history, moral attitudes toward the subject of incest have been 
as diverse as the various cultures and civilizations of Man. At one extreme, 
dynasties of Egyptian pharaohs and queens were firmly rooted in the 
marriages of members of the same families. At the other end of the spectrum 
of thought, the Greeks surrounded the subject with strong taboos. 

Even in our supposedly more enlightened age, it carries penalties both 
social and criminal, all the way to long-term imprisonment, and in some 
circumstances, death. 

The interest of psychologists and psychiatrists in the practices and 
circumstances of incest have no moral basis. It is not our province to 
invest this subject with the labels of "Right" or "Wrong." No doctor in the 
field should ever be surprised, disturbed or angered at the disclosures made 
by patients in regard to this type of sexual contact. 

This same open mind should be a prerequisite for every reader of this 
presentation of specific cases of incest. The boys and girls, men and women 
involved in these reports are just human beings responding to their drives 
of love and sensuality in manners most of us have been trained to avoid and 
abhor. 

For some of them, sexual contact with siblings, parents or close relatives 
seems to be a natural response to the patterns of their lives. For others, 
it grew out of curiosity and experimentation. And, in some cases, they were 
the most readily available objects of another's lust. 

Read these interviews with understanding and compassion. Although my 
purposes in making these recordings has been to search out causes and 
reasons for generally unacceptable behavior, and to help each patient to 
find peace and balance in his life, your study of them can result in a 
greater empathy and appreciation for the non-conformists among us. It so 
often takes the knowledge of pain and unhappiness to make us grateful for 
the simple good which makes our lives worthwhile. 

EDITOR'S NOTE 

The case histories compiled in this volume were transcribed from original 
tape recordings made in the privacy of psychiatrists' and psychologists' 
offices. 

The names of patients and of persons mentioned in the tapes have been 
changed to conceal the identity of anyone involved. The interviews were 
conducted under conditions of absolute confidence which is at the basis of 
psychotherapy and analysis. 

The transcribed material has been edited to eliminate material which is 
repetitious or irrelevant to the subject matter of this collection. Where 
required for clarification, audible responses, such as laughing, crying, 
angry shouting are indicated in the manner of stage directions. 

The descriptions of the patients, made at the beginning of each section of 
the book, were supplied by the consulting doctor. 

CASE ONE - LAURIE 

Laurie S. is 23, married two years, mother of a 13-month-old girl. She looks 
younger, being very petite in build, fair-skinned, and not addicted to using 
heavy cosmetics. The best word to describe her is "innocent." She is the 
second of three children. Her older sibling, Ann, is 27, apparently happily 
married. The youngest, Gregg, is 20. Their father died when Laurie was H. 
Her mother remarried a little more than a year later. The entire family has 
lived in the same city since the marriage of Laurie's parents. 

Outwardly, Laurie and Dick, her husband, aged SO, would seem to be an ideal 
couple. But, when Laurie came to me, she was distraught with fears of 
committing suicide, and possibly killing her daughter, Jean. For obvious 
reasons, she had never expressed these feelings to her husband. She was 
referred to me from the psychiatric clinic of a local hospital. 

The root cause of her problem did not come to light until she had been 
seeing me more than three months.. 

* * * 

The truth of the matter is I should never have married Dick. It was mostly 
his idea anyway, and from the time he started talking about when the wedding 
should be, I seemed to get carried away with the idea. 

Before I really had stopped to think of what the consequences might be, he 
had spoken to my mother and step-father about it, brought his parents over 
to meet my family, and set the date. 

You have to realize that Dick was only the second or third fellow I had 
really gone out with, and the first one who was really grown up. The other 
two were boys I knew in high school, and it was never anything serious. 
Movies, a party, a dance. 

What I mean is, I never did anything with them except some necking. Dick was 
the first date I began to "make out" with almost as soon as we met. Not all 
the way, although he wanted to a number of times. But, I didn't dare. I was 
so afraid he would find out I wasn't a virgin. 

(There was a long silence at this point) 

Aren't you going to ask me who the first one was? 

(Analyst: Do you want me to ask you? All right, Laurie, who was the first 
man you had sex with?) 

That's the trouble, Doctor. It wasn't a man at all. It was a boy. It was my 
brother, Gregg. (She began to cry.) 

Isn't that terrible? A girl having sex with her little brother? (She 
continues crying.) 

(Analyst: It is obvious that you think it was terrible, my dear. The only 
thing I can say immediately is that it was wrong because it is making you 
unhappy. Can you tell me about it?) 

Yes, I think so. I didn't ever believe I would be able to tell about it to 
anyone. I can't tell you how many nightmares I have had about people finding 
out. I know you are a doctor and you have to be able to understand about all 
kinds of sick things people do, but I don't want you to hate me for this. 

(Analyst: I can promise you that will not happen.) 

I told you my father died when I was fourteen. It was just like the world 
had come to an end. It happened very suddenly; he was killed in an 
automobile accident on his way home from work. I was so stunned that I 
stopped having any feelings about anything. I couldn't even cry at the 
funeral. I know everyone thought I was cold and unfeeling, I heard some of 
the things they said. But, they were wrong. Mother just about fell apart, 
and Gregg tried to be "a little man" like the older people told him, but he 
would go in his room and close the door and sob like a baby. 

Ann was the only one who had the strength. She was very grown-up for 
seventeen, anyway, and if it hadn't been for her, I think my mother would 
have had a nervous breakdown. Ann quit high school right then and there, and 
spent almost all of her time with my mother for the next few months. 

That left me and Gregg pretty much on our own. Of course, we went back to 
school, and tried to get into the routine of living, but every time we came 
back to our home, it was like coming into a funeral parlor. 

At night, when it was time for us to go to sleep, I would hear Gregg, alone 
in his room, crying for the longest time. I shared a room with Ann, but she 
would stay downstairs talking to Mother till late, paying no attention to 
either of us younger ones. 

Of course, in the condition Mother was in, she was no help at all to us. 
Most of the time, she didn't hear anything we said to her, so Gregg and I 
would often excuse ourselves right after dinner, go upstairs to our rooms, 
and be alone with our sorrow until we fell asleep. 

But, one night, things changed. It was getting on toward Spring, I remember, 
because it had just about gotten dark. I was sitting on my bed trying to do 
some of my homework, when I heard Gregg crying again. He sounded so little 
and lost that I guess I realized I might be able to comfort him. 

I knocked very lightly on his door, and he finally answered me. I went in. 
He was already in his pajamas, lying on his bed, and I could tell he had 
quickly wiped his eyes. 

I went over and sat on the bed next to him. "Gregg, I know how unhappy you 
are. Is there anything I can do to help?" 

He just looked at me for a second or so, and started crying again. I put my 
arms around him, and held onto him as tightly as I could, just as you would 
with a very little child. After a while, his tears stopped. I got a 
handkerchief from his dresser so he could dry his eyes and blow his nose. 
"Laurie," he said, "why did Daddy die?" 

"I don't know, Gregg. I've thought about that a lot, but I don't think there 
is any answer to it" Then, he said, "Am I going to die, too?" 

"No, of course you're not going to die. You're not sick. Why do you think 
you are going to die?" 

"Daddy wasn't sick, either," he said. 

He was right, and I had no explanation for him. All I could do was hold him, 
and let him hold onto me. When he asked me to stay with him until he fell 
asleep, I said yes. To tell the truth, I was getting as much comfort from 
him, as he was from me. 

But, it was after he did fall asleep that the awful thing happened. I can't 
blame anyone but myself, Doctor. I didn't have to do it. I should have 
gotten up from Gregg's bed, and gone back to my own. But, the warmth of his 
arms around me, the pressure of his body up against mine, the feeling that 
he needed me made me want to stay right where I was. 

At that age, eleven, Gregg was almost as tall as I was, and his face was a 
youthful duplicate of my father's. Asleep, he looked very much like Dad, 
particularly in the dim light of the room. Very gently, I started to kiss 
his cheek: just little brushes of my lips, at first Then, I could feel 
myself getting very warm inside, and the contact with him seemed to be the 
cause of it. Before I knew exactly what I was doing, I was putting my mouth 
to his. Even asleep, Gregg responded. 

Until my father's death, we had been a rather affectionate family. We 
greeted each other, and relatives when they visited, with kisses on the 
mouth. So, I suppose it was natural for my brother to kiss me back that way, 
without waking up. 

It didn't seem there would be any harm in continuing the kissing, and I was 
enjoying the sense of excitement it was producing in me. Only, now I put out 
the tip of my tongue, and began to force it between his lips. 

Is that kind of kissing natural, Doctor? 

(Analyst: Yes, Laurie, as natural as any other expression of affection or 
sexual attraction. There are very few intimate actions which are not.) 

I'm not sure to this day whether Gregg was completely asleep during the rest 
of what went on, whether he was awake or maybe somewhere in between. I can 
only tell you what occurred, and how he responded to it. 

I must have gone completely wild. The tongue kisses were no longer enough to 
satisfy me. I unbuttoned Gregg's pajama shirt, pulling it open, and started 
to run my mouth all over his body, kissing his chest, the tiny nipples, and 
finally down onto his stomach. 

All of this time, he did not move. He was lying on his back, apparently not 
aware of what I was doing to him. But, when I moved one of my hands onto his 
stomach to touch the baby smooth skin there, my arm brushed against 
something hard inside his pajama trousers. 

I knew about penises and erections and all that physical business from 
classes at school. Except for a little dirty picture book someone had once 
shown me, I had never seen a man's organs in a state of excitement. 
Moreover, I was surprised to realize that Gregg was old enough to have an 
erection. I did find out later that he had started to masturbate about six 
months before. Is that about average? 

(Analyst: There is no average. Boys have been known to start as early as six 
or seven. Yet, many of them don't mature to that point until fourteen or 
fifteen.) 

I see. Well, once I realized his reaction to my kissing, I had to see what 
his... penis looked like. 

(Analyst: Laurie, let me interrupt you for a moment. We are getting near the 
end of the session, and I don't want to have to stop you in the middle of 
your story. You have taken the first top toward getting it out, which is all 
to the good. However, you have a problem about the words you use, and 
sometimes this can be a block to expressing what you want to tell. The word 
penis, for example. It's medically correct, but it is not an emotionally 
descriptive word. What word would you use to your husband, in the middle of 
sex, if you wanted to refer to his sex organ? Honestly, please.) 

I suppose... No. I know what you mean, Doctor. I'd say cock. 

(Analyst: That's the kind of word I want you to use when you are telling me 
about sexual encounters. Will you think about that for the next time? It 
will make this all much easier for you.) 

Yes, Doctor, I will. 

* * * 

(Analyst: You were telling me that when you realized Gregg had a hard-on as 
a result of your kissing his body, you wanted to see it. Now, go on.) 

Yes. I undid the string belt of his pajamas pants, put my hand inside and 
took hold of his... cock. You know, I was going to say little cock. But, it 
wasn't little. That part of Gregg's body had also matured in size. It was as 
big then, when he was only eleven, as Dick's is now. I was both fascinated 
and enthralled by the sight and touch of it. It was extremely hard, and even 
then, I could picture it going into me. 

Changing my position on the bed, I reached my other hand up under my own 
skirts and inside my underpants, and started stroking my... I know what you 
want me to call it, Doctor... my cunt Playing with Gregg's cock and using my 
fingers on myself gave me the feeling, almost, of what it would be like to 
bring the two parts of us together. 

As my excitement began to build up, I was not only working on myself harder 
and faster, but automatically, I suppose, riding the loose skin of his cock 
up and down. It never entered my mind what the result of my jerking on him 
would be, until he suddenly started to come, the thick, white shooting up 
and out over him, his pajamas and my hand. The touch of his semen, warm and 
wet on me, must have been what made me have my own orgasm. It was the most 
thoroughly relieving sensation I had ever experienced, and I lay there a 
long time enjoying the marvelous satisfaction which had taken hold of me. 

Then, I began to realize what I had done. I still was holding Gregg's cock, 
now getting soft. I sat up, trying to see his face in the dark. I called his 
name very softly, but there was no answer. I closed his pajama pants and 
top, knowing that boys sometimes come off because of dreams, and hoping he 
would think that is what had happened to him when he woke up the next 
morning. 

I went back to my room with the most mixed feelings I have ever had. Guilt, 
excitement, fear of discovery, and the hope that it might happen again. It 
is the most terrible thing in the world, Doctor, to want something 
desperately, and at the same time, know quite consciously that you must not 
do it. 

(Analyst: Did it happen again, Laurie?) 

That's very funny. Yes, of course it happened again. The very next night, to 
be exact. Only this time, it was at Gregg's request that I came into his 
room. Just after we had gone upstairs, he came and asked me if I would come 
stay with him until he fell asleep again. I said I would, and he went back 
to his room to get undressed. 

When I came into his room, he was lying on the bed wearing only his little 
underwear shorts. 

"Where are your pajamas?" I asked him. 

"The ones I was wearing are dirty," he said, "and I think it's warm enough 
to sleep without them." 

It was as if he knew what I wanted to do to him, and was making it easier 
for me. 

(Analyst: I would say that was exactly his reason. After all, he was also 
making it easier for himself to enjoy the fondling.) 

I suppose so. Well, anyway, I lay down with him, we put our arms around each 
other, and he closed his eyes. After a minute or so, he said, "Laurie, kiss 
me goodnight." But, at the same time, I felt the pressure of something 
pushing against my leg. 

At his request, I became so excited and frightened at the same time that I 
was convinced I was about to be struck dead for my sins. But, I couldn't 
resist the temptation. I knew he already had a hard-on, and his body so 
smooth and willing, and he was so handsome. 

When I kissed him, I didn't even try to pretend it was just an affectionate 
peck on the lips. I pushed my tongue into his mouth immediately. Gregg 
responded in kind, and in moments we were locked in a frantic embrace which 
was like nothing I had ever imagined. It seemed to wipe out all of the 
doubts I had had about doing it, and completely erased the unhappiness which 
had come into our lives the day my Dad was killed. 

The kissing continued until I started to run my hands over his body, and he 
followed my lead by putting his hands under the sweater I was wearing. He 
took hold of my breasts very gently, just touching them, exploring something 
new. 

After a while, he said, "Why don't you take off your clothes, so I can feel 
you all over." 

I was going to say I didn't think I should. After all, Mother and Ann were 
right downstairs, and they could come up for any number of reasons. But, I 
did because I wanted to. I wanted Gregg to feel me, and see me naked, the 
same way I wanted him. 

He watched as I got out of my things, and made one comment I can never 
forget. 

"Gee, you're pretty, Laurie," he said. No one had ever told me that before. 
And, certainly not referring to my body. I don't think anyone has ever said 
it since with as much meaning. Not even Dick. He loves me, and thinks I am 
attractive, but he has never said or done anything which could be called 
passionately romantic. 

Even on that night nine years ago, Gregg had the ability to make me feel 
loved and desired as a woman, and not as a kind of natural convenience. 

When I came over to the bed, he began touching me all over. Finding out with 
his fingertips what spots produced the greatest reactions in me. I was doing 
the same to him, of course, until we were both so tingling that we had to 
stop, and kiss each other until the sensations had died down. 

Then, we began to explore each other's sex organs, almost as though this 
were a very practical class in human physiology. Again, there was almost no 
talking. We could tell from each other's sudden movements or gasps of 
pleasure what was making us feel those wonderful thrills. 

I don't know how long this continued, but it must have been more than an 
hour, because I realized that it had gotten quite dark outside. Now, it 
would be dangerous for us to keep on playing this way, naked on his bed; so 
I took Gregg's hand, and said, "Do it like this," and showed him how to 
manipulate both my clitoris and the opening of my vagina... that's the way I 
think of it, Doctor... so that he would make me come. 

He seemed to understand without any further explanation, and was using three 
or four of his fingers just as though it was his cock. I felt as though 
there were fire shooting through me, and wanted him to have the same 
wonderful feeling he was giving me. 

I had started to jerk him up and down, just as I had done the night before. 
But, it occurred to me there was something else I could do that would come 
closer to making him feel as if he were actually fucking. I leaned close to 
him and put my mouth over the head of his cock, and ran my tongue around the 
swollen edge of it. 

Gregg's whole body stiffened, his hips lifting up from the bed, and I heard 
him make a long "oooooh." His hand was working faster and faster on my cunt, 
and I took as much of his cock into my mouth as I could, still jerking on 
the base of it. 

We both came at almost the same instant. My own orgasms were like explosions 
deep within me, so intense that I did not realize for a few seconds that 
Gregg was coming, too. Then, I felt the spasmodic throbbing of the stiff 
column of flesh in my mouth, and knew that his heavy semen was in me. 

I think, Doctor, at that same moment of extreme delight, I realized that I 
had fallen in love with my brother. As I lay there tasting the pleasure we 
had shared and feeling the tremors of wonder still passing through our 
bodies, and from one to the other, I knew I had found a kind of perfection 
which would never be duplicated. Even before I got up, to go back to my own 
room, I was imagining the different kinds of sexual activities we could try. 

(Analyst: Did you make those explorations?) 

Oh, yes. I think we have done almost everything together a man and a woman 
can. 

(Analyst: I must assume, from that statement, Laurie, that you and Gregg 
have continued to have sex ever since these first two encounters.) 

Yes, Doctor. 

(Analyst: Even after your marriage?) 

That's where the trouble started. And, that is one of the reasons I went to 
the clinic. You see, Dick doesn't like Gregg very much. He has no conscious 
reason for it, but I know he senses something wrong. Something happened one 
night about two months before the baby was born, and we had a terrible 
argument about it. I don't think Dick has trusted me since that time. 

(Analyst: I want you to tell me about it, but first there are some 
background facts I need concerning your family. We'll get back to this 
argument with Dick next time.) 

* * * 

Dick had been very attentive to me from the time we found out I was 
pregnant, and much more tender than was his nature. He had gone to the 
obstetrician to find out in detail about everything that would take place 
during the time the baby was coming. He even discussed whether and how we 
should have sex. 

Our sex has always been very... shall I call it normal? Except for kissing 
my breasts, he has never put his mouth anywhere on my body; certainly, it 
had never occurred to him to go down on me. And I have always been very 
careful to play a completely passive role. 

It is not that I don't enjoy the sex. Dick can hold off coming for a long 
time, and it. is not unusual for me to have two orgasms during the time he 
is... fucking me. See, I can say it But there are so many other things we 
could do together that I think he would enjoy as much as I do. The problem 
is, how to suggest these things to him without letting on how I learned 
them. 

A suggestion in that direction came from Gregg. Yes, I was still having sex 
with him. He had started at the City University, and often had free 
afternoons when he would come to the apartment No one questioned his being 
there, of course, since he is my brother; and he would often bring school 
books, so the reason for the visit would appear to be to study quietly and 
keep me company. 

Gregg and I were still fucking beyond the time when Dick felt that kind of 
sex might endanger the baby. But, by the end of the seventh month, I 
wouldn't take a chance on it anymore. Actually, I was losing my sexual 
desire, which I suppose is natural toward the end of a pregnancy. But, since 
any form of sex was exciting to my brother, I would either suck his cock or 
jerk him off. Sometimes twice during an afternoon. Gregg has a great need 
for sexual release, and after I got married, went through a bad time trying 
to find other girls who could satisfy him. He still prefers me to any others 
he's had sex with. 

(Analyst: How do you compare him sexually with your husband?) 

I suppose Gregg is better because he is so versatile. He's much more 
exciting about it, too. There's no routine to his sex. One afternoon, I was 
trying on some new maternity dresses, modeling them for him, and he suddenly 
got down on the floor in front of me, ballooned the skirt of the dress over 
his head, and started tonguing my cunt just as fast as I'm telling it to 
you. It was the more exciting because it was so unexpected. He made me 
climax within a few minutes, then went back to sit in his chair and watch me 
show off the rest of the wardrobe. 

The day I started to tell you about, Gregg was in an extremely horny mood. 
As soon as he came in the door, I could see the bulge in his trousers. He 
greeted me with a long soul kiss, and the next thing I knew, he pulled my 
hand down to hold his cock which he had taken out of his fly. 

"Jerk me off, will you please, Laurie?" he asked. "I've had a hard on almost 
all day, and my balls are sore." 

He sat down on the living room sofa, opening his pants enough so that I 
could get hold of everything easily. I started to massage the loose skin up 
and down, tightening my grip every once in a while to make the already-taut 
head of it swell even larger. 

After a couple of minutes, he said, "Do it real fast. I've got to get a load 
off before the damn thing busts." 

"All right, Gregg," I answered, and increased the tempo, letting my hand 
ride up over the head of it, each time, knowing how much more exciting this 
was for him. With my other hand, I rolled his balls rapidly back and forth, 
and watched the joy in his face as the moment of climax came closer. 

He is good looking all the time, but during sex, Gregg is exceptionally 
handsome. His head was back on the top of the pillows of the sofa, his eyes 
closed, his lips parted. His breath was reaching that warning pitch, and 
little sounds were coming up from his throat. 

"Oh, Laurie, that's good!" he kept saying. "Make it come! Make it come! " 
His cock seemed to be stretching out longer than I had ever seen it, as 
though it were reaching up to me, and as the final moment was about to 
arrive, and his body began to tighten, I went down on him, covering the 
pulsing head with my mouth, and felt the syrup of his come start to spurt 
into my mouth. 

With his feet hard against the floor, Gregg had lifted himself up from .the 
furniture to meet this final onslaught. The jolts of ejaculation continued, 
until there must have been more than a dozen of them, but I stayed down on 
him to help prolong the sensations he was experiencing. 

"Oh, God, that's good," he said. "Don't stop, Laurie." 

I continued the sucking, turning my mouth from side to side to strike every 
possible nerve in Gregg's cock. After a minute or so, I realized he was not 
going to lose his erection, and kept on stroking his balls, urging him on to 
continued reaction. 

"I think I can come again," he said, his voice coming through his heavy 
breathing with difficulty. "I want to. Make it happen for me." 

I added the movement of my hand to the pleasant work my mouth was doing, 
knowing he would enjoy the jerking as much as I liked to feel my hand around 
the rigid shaft. This wasn't the first time Gregg had had the urge for one 
orgasm right after another, but most of the times I remember this happening 
was in actual intercourse. Part of the pleasure of my sex with Gregg has 
always been that I know for certain that I am making him happy. He knows I 
will never refuse any request of his in that area. 

It really didn't take long before he arched up again, and the pumping 
started a second time. This time, I took as much of the length of his cock 
into my mouth as I could. 

When I did start to let the slowly subsiding length of it slip out of my 
mouth, I took as long as I could; a millimeter at a time, to prolong the 
sensitive contact for both of us. 

"I think that was one of the greatest ever," Gregg said, when I had let the 
head of it slip from my mouth. "Thank you for the second round." 

"Thank you for giving it to me," I said, kissing him on the cheek. "You know 
horn much I love to eat you. Your come is just like sugar. I'll bet nobody 
else in the world tastes like that." 

"Not even Dick?" he asked. 

I had to tell him the truth. Up till then, I had never discussed my married 
sex life. 

"You've never gone down on him?" Gregg was stunned. 

"And, he's never done it to me, either." 

"What the hell is he doing for sex now, Laurie?" my brother wanted to know. 
"You told me you two had stopped fucking a month ago or more." 

"I've jerked him off a few times," I said, "but he didn't seem to really 
enjoy it. I think he does it by himself." 

, "For Christ's sake," Gregg said, "suck him off. I won't be jealous." 

It wasn't that I had never thought of doing it to Dick, but Gregg even gave 
the excuse I should use. 

"Tell him you read it in one of those novels," he said, "and you wondered 
how it would feel. He'll probably be delighted you thought of it, and your 
sex life will be better than ever." 

That's not how it worked out, though. That same night when Dick and I were 
just about getting into bed, he said he thought he better go to the toilet. 
I didn't pay any attention to such a natural remark, until I remembered some 
of my conversation with Gregg that afternoon, I know I shouldn't have done 
it, but I went to the bathroom door and pushed it open without saying 
anything first. 

Sure enough, there was Dick, standing in front of the toilet working away on 
his cock just as hard as he could. 

He didn't hear me open the door, until I said, "Oh, no, Dick, don't do it 
like that alone." 

He was shocked first, and then angry. 

"What's the matter with you, Laurie? Isn't anything private any more." 

I told him I was sorry. "But, you don't have to do that, Dick. I want to be 
the one who makes you feel good. Please let me do it for you." 

"Honey, it's not that I don't want you to do it. I just don't get very much 
enjoyment out of masturbating. Whether I do it, or someone does it for me. 
It's just a way of getting the need out of my system." 

"There are other things," I said. 

"What?" he asked. 

"Let me show you. Come back to the bed, and let your wife seduce you," I 
said. 

I was trying to keep it light and happy, although my own excitement was 
suddenly stimulated. It was going to be almost as if I were having sex with 
Dick for the first time. 

He looked a bit doubtful at me, but came back to the bedroom. "Take your 
pajamas off, dear," I said. He did, then I motioned him to lie down next to 
me. 

I started almost the same way I had started with Gregg on that first night 
so many years ago Kissing him lightly on the mouth, and then harder, forcing 
my tongue into his. When I felt him start to respond to the kisses, my mouth 
moved down along his chin, throat and shoulders, onto his strong, manly 
chest The further I went the more I forgot who I was making love to and 
under what circumstances. 

I kissed my way onto his stomach, and put out my hand to grasp his cock. It 
was hard, and I ran my hand lightly over it, vaguely conscious of the 
difference between his sex organ and Gregg's; the smooth curve of it, the 
thicker shaft. But, as I cupped my hand under his balls, I thought that the 
sweet, rich fluids in them which had created the baby in me would soon make 
an intimate new bond between us. 

I felt the sudden reaction run all through him when I put my mouth onto his 
sex. I had expected him to enjoy it, but not quite as much as this. It was 
only a matter of a few seconds of sucking when Dick started to come. 

He must have been close to having a climax when I had stopped him from 
jerking off, I thought, and so he had not been able to hold back. But, as 
soon as he began to shoot, he pulled back from me, his cock coming out of my 
mouth, the semen spurting on him and me and on the bed, too. 

"What are you doing, Laurie?" he asked, and I could see he was horrified. 
"Do you have any idea of what you are doing?" 

What was I to tell him? I tried to explain that I thought he needed some 
better substitute for our sex than using his hand, or mine, and that I had 
read about this in some of the sexy novels that were so popular. It was a 
nasty scene until I started to cry, and then he got worried that I might 
affect the baby in some way by my emotional outburst, and he calmed down and 
comforted me. 

"Forget all about it, dear," he said. "It's just a mistake we both made." 

I know he hasn't forgotten about it. I'm sure he knows that I must have 
learned it from someone, and he isn't sure whether it was before our 
marriage of after. Nothing has been quite right between us since then. The 
sex we do have is not enough for me, and I think he isn't satisfied, either. 
I've been trying to discourage Gregg, but that doesn't work. I really want 
him, and he knows it He can walk in the door, and it is all I can do to keep 
my hands off of him, get his fly open, make his cock harden up and then have 
him push it into me as only he can do it I'm trapped, Doctor, between my 
brother and my husband. I want both of them, but on different terms. I know 
it can't work, and yet sometimes I think I have found an answer. The three 
of us living together, for instance. I know it's insane, but I want it so 
bad, I can almost imagine it happening. (She starts to cry.) 

Tell me what to do! Please tell me what to do! 

* * * 

SUMMARY: Laurie continued in therapy with me for seven more months. During 
this time, she came to understand how her long sex relationship with her 
brother grew from the loss of her father during a crucial period of puberty, 
and that for Gregg the incestuous tie was even more crippling and 
controlling. 

The key to her control of the problem was her true love for her brother, and 
the desire to see him mature more happily, and independent of this bond. 

The prognosis for her recovery was improved when Gregg decided to enlist in 
the Armed Forces, being aware that Laurie did not want to indulge in 
relations with him any more. About the same time, Dick was transferred in 
his job to another city, and Laurie's last sessions with me reflected her 
hope she would be able to start a new chapter of her life removed from the 
scenes of her unhappiness. 

CASE TWO - PATRICK 

Patrick M. is 33, married six years, the father of two children, ages 5 and 
3. He works in heavy construction, and is typically masculine-gruff and 
outspoken. He is not the type of man one expects to seek psycho-analytic 
help. 

He is the oldest of five children, and left high school in his senior year 
to help add to the family income. His approach to life is extremely 
practical, and his problem was quickly stated during our first session after 
the preliminaries of personal history were presented. 

Let me come right to the point. These sessions are costing good money, so I 
don't want to waste any time. My Aunt Geraldine is hot after me to start 
laying her again. I'm not the kind of guy to say no to a good piece of ass, 
but I think this is one case where I should. The trouble is, I don't know 
how to turn her down. 

I guess I better explain all about this. Geraldine is my mother's youngest 
sister. She's only five years older than I am, and she's one of those women 
who don't look anywhere near as old as they are. She's still built almost 
the same as she was when she was twenty-five. 

I know, because that's when this business between us first started. Like I 
told you, I started working full time when I was seventeen to bring some 
more cash into the house. I used to lie about my age then to get jobs on 
construction crews, but I could easily pass for being twenty-one or more. 

Anyway, in addition to my regular work, I used to take part-time jobs doing 
carpentry and woodworking for people. It brought in extra bucks, and it 
helped to kill some of my spare time. I really didn't have enough money for 
dates and stuff like that. An occasional pick-up or a trip to a whore house 
once in a while was all I could afford. Keeping busy didn't give me much 
time to think about sex. 

After a few years of this, I got to be pretty good at things like building 
bookshelves into homes, making storage cabinets, putting up interior walls. 
The was the reason Geraldine first hired me. 

She was the baby of my mother's family, and got the best treatment of any of 
them. She had gone through college, the only one in the family who did, and 
had studied art. After school, she went to New York for a couple of years to 
work at some interior decorating place. 

I never understood why she came back here again, but when she did, she got 
started as a freelance designer, and seemed to be making a go of it right 
from the start. 

About six months after she had been back, she came over to our house one 
night for dinner. I remember thinking how different she was from my mother 
in every way. Geraldine had the biggest tits of her three sisters, and she 
wore clothes which made sure you could see them. Nothing cheap or showy, you 
understand. My mother and the rest of the family would have had something to 
say bout that. But, real classy stuff, like someone on TV or a movie 
starlet. There was never any doubt that she was all woman. 

She hadn't seen me, either, for three years or so, and she was surprised at 
how grown-up I had become. It's kind of odd having an aunt who is only old 
enough to be a sister. When I was fifteen or sixteen, the five-year 
difference was enough to make me feel she was grown-up. But, now, it didn't 
mean the same thing anymore. I think she was looking me over in the same 
kind of way. At least, that's the way it worked out. 

Geraldine had brought some plans she had drawn up for turning the attic of 
her parents' house into a studio-workroom which would be her office. She was 
proud of her business success and her ability, and she wanted to show her 
sister's family what she could do. 

While we were looking the drawings over, I made some suggestions for how the 
construction might be done, and it was then she realized that I was 
experienced in this kind of work. 

"Would you be interested in taking on this job?" she asked me. 

"Sure," I said, "but not if you're in a rush for it. I can only work on it 
at night and on weekends." 

"That's no problem," she said. "The assignments I'm doing now will keep me 
down in the city most of the time. I'm using other designers' facilities 
until I get my own." 

So, it was agreed to, and in the next few weeks, I worked on the 
construction plans and materials requirements. A couple of times I went over 
to her parent's house to take measurements, and to show her how I thought 
some of the details might be done. 

I began to see more of Geraldine than of any other girl I had ever known, 
and our relationship became very easy and relaxed. She had a good sense of 
humor, and liked to hear a good dirty story. Plenty of them were told on my 
daytime job, and she was not the kind to blush or get shook up by a few 
four-letter words. 

I began to feel more relaxed in her company than even with a date. I called 
her Dina, and she started using the nickname of Ricky for me. If I told her 
how good she looked on a particular evening, she took it as a natural 
compliment, and we would most often greet and part with a kiss. 

This was all preliminary to the first big happening. It was the third or 
fourth evening after I had started the actual construction, putting up the 
framing which would be the walls. It was late June, and there had been a 
couple of very hot days. The attic was like an oven, and after I had been 
there a few minutes, I took off my shirt. 

I wore the same kind of work clothes as I did on the job, heavy cotton shirt 
and pants, wool socks and heavy boots. The only difference was, that I had 
gone home to eat and change from the dirty things I used that day, and in 
putting on a different set of shirt and pants, I hadn't bothered with 
undershorts. I really should have brought a bathing suit. 

I liked the work, so I didn't mind the sweating. It must have been a half 
hour or more when Dina came up the stairs to see how I was doing. She was 
wearing a halter and shorts in some kind of soft white material. It was the 
right kind of outfit for the heat, and the most revealing thing I had ever 
seen her wear. Not only were her tits easily seen through the cloth, but 
even the shape of her nipples. And the shorts were so tight, I could see the 
darkness of the hair around her cunt, and almost the opening of it, too. 

"Good God, it's hot up here," she said. "I ought to get some fans. It's a 
good thing I planned on air conditioners in the design." 

"Until then, I'll just have to sweat," I said. 

"Aren't those work clothes heavy?" she asked. 

"Yes, they are," I said, "but it's the only kind I have." 

"Why don't you work in your shorts, then?" she wanted to know. 

I laughed. "I would if I could, Dina, but I'm not wearing any." 

She looked at me for a minute, then said, "So what? I've seen other fellows 
naked, and I'm sure other girls have seen you the same way." And, then, when 
I didn't answer or make a move to do anything, she asked, "Don't tell me 
you're ashamed of what you've got, Ricky?" 

It was a dare, and the moment she said it, I knew I was going to take it. At 
least I was honest with her. 

"It's just the other way around, Dina," I said. "I'm afraid what I've got 
might scare you." 

She stood facing me with her hands on her hips. 

"I'll take my chances," she said. 

So, I thought, what the hell. Let her see it, and if she gets a big thrill, 
we'd laugh about it, and I would put my pants back on. 

I didn't make any big production out of it, just unzipped my pants and 
stepped out of them, tossing them over one of the saw horses. She and I were 
standing maybe six or seven feet apart. 

"Oh, good heavens, Ricky," she said. "You weren't kidding me." 

"Are you scared?" I asked. It was just a joke. She hadn't been able to take 
her eyes off my cock from the moment I dropped my pants. 

"No. I'm just fascinated. Is that thing hard?" she wanted to know. 

"Not at all, Dina," I said, "I don't get excited from being looked at it. 
There's no point in having a hard-on if you're not going to do something 
with it." 

She came a step or two closer. 

"How big does it get?" she asked me. 

"I don't know," I answered, "I've never stopped to measure it when it was 
up. It's pretty big, though." 

Let me explain something, Doc. Having a big cock doesn't mean anything 
special as far as I'm concerned. That's the way I was born. But, it sure 
impresses other people. Guys are always making jokes about it in locker 
rooms, and girls mostly seemed to think it is some kind of unusual toy. 
That's okay with me; I just let them play with it. 

Dina was something else again. 

"I want to see it hard," she announced. 

"Come on," I said, reaching for my pants again. "Now your trying to 
embarrass me." 

"Not at all," she said, coming up very close to me. "I like you very much, 
Ricky." She put a hand on my chest. "I like you as a man, not as a relative. 
I want you to like me the same way, if you can." 

I don't know whether it was what she was saying, or the feel of her hand 
playing with the hair on my chest, but my cock started to stiffen. 

"What can I say, Dina?" I asked. 

"Don't say anything," she answered. "Try kissing me instead." 

By the time my mouth got to hers, my dick was up all the way. When we 
pressed close together, it slid up against her stomach, and from that moment 
on, I forgot she was my aunt. She was just an attractive, sexy woman who 
knew what she wanted, and had sense enough to go after it. 

She started soul kissing me right off, and I was hot from head to foot. As 
long as she was willing to play the game, there was no reason for me to hold 
back the least bit. 

I reached around behind her, and undid the snaps of the halter, then ran my 
hands under it, coming to the front, and grasping her beautiful tits. They 
felt even bigger than they looked, and the nipples were getting hard as soon 
as my fingers touched them. Dina's hands were sliding all over my sweaty 
back and ass, stopping her and there to hold on or dig into my muscles for a 
minute. 

The tongue kissing kept up until we had nearly lost our breath. We pulled 
apart just enough so I could lean down and take as much as possible of one 
of her breasts into my mouth. It tasted delicious to me, and that fast my 
desire for her became uncontrollable. 

"I'm going to fuck you, Dina," I said, struggling to get her shorts off. 
"Don't stop me. I've got to have you." 

"I want you to, Ricky," she said. "Oh, God, how I want you to fuck me." 

There was a big, clean drop cloth piled up in one of the corners of the 
attic. As she stepped out of her shorts, I lifted her easily, to carry her 
over and place her not too gently on it. 

Her legs were already open, and I could see the lips of her pussy wet and 
pink. I put my hand down to it, making sure it was open and ready, 
lubricated enough to begin to take me. I moved in close to her, pushing down 
on my cock to bring the head of it up against her cunt. 

"Let yourself relax, Dina," I half whispered to j her. "I have to put it 
into you slow. I know how to I do it, if you'll just let everything inside 
relax." 

"All right, Ricky," she said. "You're in charge. Just put it in me. I've got 
to have it in me." 

I don't think any girl I had ever had before that, or maybe since, wanted me 
to fuck her as sincerely as Dina did. It's a wonderful feeling, Doc, but I 
suppose you know that from your own experience. With me, at twenty, it was 
brand new. Not just a way of getting my nuts off, but something important 
and real between two people. 

Once I had gotten the head of my dick, and a couple of inches more into that 
cunt of hers, I knew there was not going to be any further problem. I could 
feel the warm, wet lining sliding around my cock, adjusting itself to the 
thickness of it, and making ready to take more of the length. 

Dina was certainly no virgin, but on top of that she had a kind of control 
of internal muscles that not too many women I have fucked have come by so 
naturally. She made me feel as though her vagina was actually sucking my 
tool into her. 

"How does it feel, Ricky?" she asked me. 

"Wonderful, honey," I said, but the word doesn't really tell what it was 
like. I never have understood why one woman can turn you on so much more 
than others. There can't be that much difference in their bodies. A mouth is 
a mouth. Tits are tits. A cunt is a cunt. Maybe it's something chemical. 
But, putting my dick into Dina was like putting it into some kind of fire 
that didn't really burn, but sent a tingling all over you. 

When I had it all the way in, she locked her legs over my back. 

"I can feel it throbbing," she said, "all the way up inside me. It's lovely. 
Kiss me, Rick, and fuck me as hard as you want." 

Our mouths came together hard, tonguing and sucking and biting each other, 
and I started the pumping. At first, I kept the strokes short, riding about 
half the length of my rod each time. I didn't want to hurt her. But, as the 
excitement built up in me, and her too, I really put my ass into it. 

Her arms were around me tight, holding on for dear life, and her ass was 
riding up each time to meet my thrusts. It was really fantastic. We were 
both soaking wet, and I could feel her rigid nipples sliding back and forth 
on my chest. I had the feeling that this terrific sensation might go on 
forever. I wanted us to keep hold on to each other, with my cock plunging 
into her for years. 

Then, when it seemed that it couldn't get any better, I could feel that 
unbelievable squeezing of her around my prick as she started into her 
orgasm. It set me off, and seconds later I started to come, riding each 
spurt into her like a battering ram. If our mouths hadn't been jammed 
together so tight, I think our voices would have brought someone running up 
from the house below. It was only after the excitement began to die down 
that it occurred to me that anyone could have walked upstairs and discovered 
us screwing away like a couple of madmen. 

Another fifteen minutes must have passed before I pulled my cock out of her. 
We didn't say anything during that whole time, just let the glow fade away. 
I stood up and pulled her to her feet She looked at me again, for a long 
time. 

"I love you, Ricky," she said, and gave me a soft kiss on the mouth. 

I wanted to tell her then that she didn't love me, she loved the sex that we 
had enjoyed. But, I didn't tell her. Then, or on any of the other occasions. 

(Analyst: Then this was not a one-time happening?) 

Shit, no. Sometimes it wasn't even one time in a day. 

(Analyst: Did it continue until you got married?) 

No. It probably would have, except for something Geraldine pulled about two 
years later. It changed my whole attitude toward her. 

(Analyst: I'll want to hear about that, but at the next session, Patrick. 
Our time is about up, now.) 

* * * 

It took me several months to complete the building of Dina's studio, working 
almost every evening, Saturday and Sunday. Between the work, my regular job, 
the heat and the sex, I lost about ten pounds that summer. I think the only 
part of me that didn't get smaller was my dick. I guess at twenty there's 
almost no limit to the amount of sex you can have, and I had no intention of 
turning any of this down. 

The first fuck was really just a hint of how good the sex was going to be on 
a regular basis. It was the third or fourth time that gave me an idea of how 
much variety there could be in the things two people could do to arouse each 
other. 

As soon as I realized that my work was going to include other activities, I 
came more prepared for them. I brought old cut-off pants to wear instead of 
work clothes. And I only wore those when there was some chance Dina's 
parents might come up to see what progress was being made. There is a 
wonderful freedom about working in the raw. There are few opportunities to 
do it. Bareass swimming once in a while, or an evening in some girl's 
apartment I can't do it at home, because of the kids. Even when we're alone, 
my wife, Joan, acts a little embarrassed to see me naked, unless we're 
actually getting down to making love. 

But, with Dina, it became immediately natural, and it gave her the 
opportunities she wanted to get me excited any way she could think of. And, 
she could think of some beauts. 

This one night I was talking about, she came up about ten minutes after I 
had started working. 

"The folks are going to the movies," she said. "We'll have the whole house 
to ourselves for a few hours." 

"Great," I said, "but I do have to get some of this work done. If it starts 
taking too long, I'll get a bad reputation as a slow carpenter." 

"That's not the reputation you're going to get, Ricky," she said, "not with 
all the talent you have." 

"Maybe so," I said, "but what you're talking about I can't go around 
advertising." 

"You keep wearing shorts like those," she answered, "and everybody in town 
will know exactly what you've got to offer." 

I laughed, and went back to sawing the 2-by-4's I had just measured. The 
first I realized she was standing right behind me was when I felt her hands 
come around my waist from either side. I'm not going to say I didn't like 
it. Her touch would get me going from the first instant. But, I really was 
trying to get a fair amount of the work done each time I came there. When 
she let me, anyway. 

She ran her hands down to the front of the shorts, opened them, and pulled 
down the zipper. 

"I like you better without anything on," she said. "You don't mind, do you?" 

When the shorts dropped to the floor, I stepped out of them, kicking them 
aside, and continuing working the saw. Her hands came around me again, 
brushing along my hips, her fingertips leading the way. My cock started to 
get hard again, even before she had touched it. When she did, it swelled out 
to its full length, already aching for the next step of excitement. 

She put one hand around it loosely, and let it slide from the base right up 
over the tip, just barely making contact with it. I was still doing my 
damnedest to keep my mind, or part of it at least, on the sawing. 

Her hand moved away, and I found myself tensing for the next touch. When it 
didn't come, I stopped sawing to look around and see what had happened. Dina 
was far away from me on the other side of the attic, looking through some 
boxes of things which had been stored up here. 

I shrugged, and went back to work, but I noticed after a few minutes that I 
still had pretty much of a hard-on. That wasn't the way I usually reacted. 
No contact, no erection. Somehow, Dina made me respond in a different way 
than any other woman had. 

More than just having the stiff prick, I was horny. If she was going to 
start things, then I would have to finish them. Or, at least keep them 
going. 

I put the saw down, and walked over to where she was sitting on one box, 
sifting through the contents of another. She looked up at me when she 
realized I was standing there. My cock was almost in front of her face. She 
put out one hand, brushing against it with her fingers lightly again. 

"Don't tell me I did that to you," she said. 

"Yes, you did," I told her, "and I think you should do something else to 
it." 

"What?" she asked. 

"Anything you think of," I said, "just so long as you don't leave it in that 
condition." 

"All right," she answered, and started unbuttoning the front of her dress. 

She had nothing on under it, and as soon as the top few buttons were open, 
the flimsy garment fell away to reveal those terrific breasts of hers. She 
took the dress off without getting up, letting it fall behind her. 

"Come here," she said, "very close to me." 

I did, and she sat up very straight bringing her chest up on a level with my 
crotch. She grasped my dick with one hand, pulling it forward to her, until 
the swollen head of it was up against one of her nipples. Then she began to 
rub it back and forth against the rosy knobs, slowly at first, and then 
faster; building up an intense friction. 

I took the other nipple in my fingers, pressing and twirling it till it was 
as bright and hard as the other. Her free hand moved up between my legs, 
touching all the way, until she was tickling and fondling my balls. 

If I hadn't kept my knees stiff and the muscles of my legs tight, I think I 
would have buckled from the sheer pleasure of it. 

Then, suddenly she grasped around my hips with one hand, pulling us close 
together, and pushed my straining cock between her breasts. My hands came on 
either side of them, pressing toward each other, trapping the big tool in 
the cleft. 

Her hand on my ass was urging me into a fucking motion, and I followed her 
lead gladly, tightening and relaxing the muscles of my thighs and my ass 
alternately. 

The tunnel between her tits became an avenue of joy. The hand on my nuts was 
urging me on with wild strokings, and she pressed her face against my belly, 
biting and kissing the hot flesh there. 

When I started to come, my knees almost gave way completely. I went against 
her, afraid she would fall. But, she put both hands around my hips, and held 
on with more strength than I thought she had. 

I could feel the come running down on my dick, on her breasts and on my 
hands, lubricating the whole area even more smoothly than before. Even the 
least amount of motion there was setting me crazy. 

Finally, I let my knees go, and slid down the front of her to the floor, my 
tool trailing all the way down the front of her till it was right at her 
crotch. Now, I pulled her to me, lifting her off the box and right onto the 
upthrust curve of my cock. 

I could see the surprised delight in her face, and feel the sucking reach of 
her vagina as we moved together slowly, but more easily than before. The 
adjustment to my size was getting faster with each occurrence. 

Holding her tightly, I let myself fall back onto the floor, extending my 
legs now, and letting my weight push my tool as far into her as would be 
possible. She came down to push her tongue into my mouth, and press her body 
almost totally against mine, the come on her sealing us together. 

Dina began to ride herself up and down on my cock, like some fabulous 
machine working up speed on a piston. 

"It's beautiful. It's beautiful," I heard her say, and her hips and ass were 
going ever faster. 

"Make it last longer," she gasped. 

I couldn't answer. I really had no control over what was going on. Her cunt 
was in charge, and the sensations flashing through me were on a wavelength 
that was brand new to me. 

"Oh, Rick, now!" she cried out. "Now!" 

The suction of those muscles inside of her seemed to pull at every nerve in 
my body as she let herself go, and then I joined her, pumping out another 
load for her. Again and again, I shot, and she kept on drawing it out of me. 
Just when it seemed too good to last, another wave of feeling would shoot 
through me, and I would feel my cock give another jerk inside of her. 

Jesus, but it was good with her. Too goddamn- good. I was young then, and 
there seemed no reason to turn it down. And I didn't for two years. 

Of course, once I had finished building that studio, there was no reason for 
me to be there almost every night. But, I still saw plenty of her. She began 
to use me as a sort of consultant on some of her design jobs. Since I knew 
the problems and materials of construction, this was legitimate. 

Besides the sex, the best part of the arrangement was that I was getting 
paid for my time and knowledge. Once in a while when she gave me a check, I 
felt a little like a male whore. The one thing that bothered me was hearing 
her tell me how much she loved me. 

That kind of stuff was out of the question. Fucking or no, we were still 
nephew and aunt, and we were really taking a chance every time we went at 
it. She tried to get me to use romantic talk to her, but I wouldn't. One 
night, when I got kind of sore about it, I really burned her. 

"Look, Dina, I'm only in this for the sex. We get along in the hay just 
fine, so why try to fuck it up with talk that can't mean anything? Just 
think of me as a good stud." 

We didn't see each other for a couple of weeks after that. I realized later 
she was waiting for me to call her. I suppose it hadn't occurred to her that 
I might know other girls. None of them might have the special talent that 
Dina had, but they were available to me for sex, and I wasn't looking for 
much beyond that. 

When I finally did hear from her, I could tell she was uptight about 
something. 

"I'm giving a little party at my studio Saturday night," she said, "and I 
thought you might want to come if you're not tied up with some heavy date." 

"I don't have any plans for Saturday," I said. 

"I wasn't sure," she answered me. "I haven't heard a word from you, and I 
saw you downtown with a blonde last Friday who looked like she might be 
taking up a lot of your time." 

"Oh, that's Sheila," I said. "Just a good friend." 

"Well, tell her you're busy this weekend," she said. "Just say it's a family 
party that you can't miss." 

"I'll be there, Dina," I told her. 

The party turned out to be Dina and me, and a friend of hers named Peggy, 
who had come in from New York to visit. We were already a few drinks along 
the way when it came to me that no one else had been invited, because the 
conversation suddenly got very interesting. 

"Peggy is an artist, Rick," Dina said, "and I was telling her what an 
excellent body you have. She'd like you to model for her." 

I looked at Peggy. She wasn't the artistic type as far as I could see. A 
little too hard looking. 

"It's a shame you don't live here," I said. "I'd be glad to pose for you if 
there was enough time." 

"How about right now?" Dina suggested. 

"You mean here?" I asked. 

"Why not?" Peggy asked. "I think that would be a wonderful idea." 

"You want to start drawing now?" I asked, and both the women laughed. 

"Just get out of your clothes, Ricky," Dina said, "and we'll see what 
happens." 

The light dawned on me then, but the idea kind of hung me up. There were two 
of them, and I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. 

"I don't know," I started to say, but Dina wasn't going to let me spoil her 
plans. "If you don't take off your clothes yourself, we'll take them off for 
you." 

"You're kidding," I said. 

But they weren't. I was sitting in a chair during all of this, and a moment 
later one of the was on each side of me, pulling me out of my jacket, 
unbuttoning my shirt, taking off my loafers. It was just fun, until Dina 
opened my belt, and started to undo the top of my pants. I was a little high 
from the liquor, but not so much that I wasn't about to be embarrassed. 

"Come on, Dina, don't," I said, trying to push her hands away, but then I 
saw the look in her face. I don't know exactly how to describe it. Partly 
anger, I imagine. But, some kind of desperation there, too. She was out to 
prove something concerning her and me. It was the reason for the so-called 
party, and Peggy was necessary to it. 

"You're a big stud, aren't you," she said to me, her teeth clenched. "Well, 
prove it, Ricky. Get that enormous cock out, and show us how you can take on 
two women at a time." 

"I think Geraldine was lying," Peggy chimed in. "She has been telling me how 
great you are at sex, but I think it was all in her imagination." 

That's all I needed. 

"All right, ladies," I said, "it's all yours. The cock, the body, the works. 
Have yourselves a ball." 

"See for yourself, Peggy," Dina said. "You open his pants." 

Peggy pulled down the zipper, and then grabbing the waistband of my shorts, 
said, "Lift up your ass, young man," and when I did, slid my pants and the 
shorts down to my knees. 

"You weren't 'kidding," she said to Dina. 

"And, it's still soft," Dina told her. 

Peggy put both her hands under my dick and my balls, lifting them as though 
they were being carried on a platter. Then, one hand came up to fondle my 
cock and ride back the foreskin. 

"It looks good enough to eat," Peggy said softly. 

"If you're going to," Dina told her, "You better start while it's still 
small enough to get into your mouth." 

I could feel it starting to get bigger. 

"They don't make them too big for me to take," Peggy said, and a second 
later she went down on it. And, I mean all the way down, Doc. Head and 
shaft, all the way to my nuts. If I had thought Dina's cunt was talented, 
Peggy's mouth had that much more equipment to work with. Her tongue seemed 
to be everywhere on it; her lips, the muscles of her cheeks and throat were 
pushing, pulling, rubbing, sliding. She was working my prick like it had 
never been worked before, making it stretch bigger and bigger, until I 
couldn't imagine how she was keeping it all inside. 

When she finally came back off of it, it even looked longer to me than I had 
ever seen it. 

"That's my big Ricky," Dina said. 

"That's beautiful," Peggy answered, smiling, "I'm going to suck on that for 
a while." 

"All right, but let's get him out of his clothes, first. You can't have all 
the fun," Dina announced, doing what she was saying. 

They stripped me bare, and got me to lie down on the big long table Dina 
used for laying out floor plans and sketches. By this time, I had made up my 
mind to take whatever happened as long as I was enjoying it. There was 
something about this arrangement I didn't like, but I wasn't going to think 
of it until after I had blown my nuts as many times as I could. 

(Analyst: I hate to have to break into your train of thought, Patrick, but 
we've run out of time. We'll go on from here at your next session.) 

* * * 

I got two more calls from Dina since I saw you last time, Doc. She's getting 
to be a real pain in the ass. 

(Analyst: Haven't you told her to stop bothering you? She can't make you do 
anything.) 

I'm not so sure. I've started remembering a lot of the sex we had together, 
and I find myself turning on at the damnedest times. I almost never get hot 
pants during the day, and if I did, there isn't much I can do about it with 
Joan because the kids are around. She'd think I was crazy if I suggested a 
piece of ass while the sun was still out. 

The trouble is, I know I could call Dina and go up to her studio just like 
that, and fuck the hell out of her no matter what time it was. I wish to 
hell she'd get married. That might get her off my back. 

(Analyst: But, not necessarily off your mind. Let's get back to that night 
with Dina and Peggy.) 

Okay. Well, here I was, stretched out on that plastic table, with my flag at 
full mast and my balls loaded to capacity. Peggy didn't lose a second going 
down on me again, but Dina got out of her clothes for what she wanted to do. 

It was really difficult to concentrate on both of them at the same time. 
Peggy would suck me for a bit, and then start licking up and down my dick, 
onto my balls, and even on my legs and stomach. 

Dina got astride my chest, first just giving me a thorough feeling up, then 
leaning down to rub her breasts back and forth over my face. As the nipples 
hardened, I tried to catch them in my mouth as they slid past, making a 
little nip at them; sometimes sucking on one for a few seconds before it 
moved away. 

Between the two of them, I felt as if I was being lifted right up off the 
table, and floating in some kind of sparkling cloud, like taking a bath in 
soda water. 

After a while, Dina moved all the way up, her knees on either side of my 
shoulders, her legs spread wide, opening the lips of her vagina directly in 
front of my face. I could see the pink moistness of it, the pulse of sex 
beating there. She put both hands under my head and drew me up. 

At first, I just licked at the lips of her cunt, making my tongue go up and 
down as fast as possible to stimulate her reaction. She began to twist her 
body and shoulders, making little moaning sounds. 

Then, as though she had been jolted by a shock of electricity, she pulled my 
face hard up against her. I caught the swelling bud of her clitoris with my 
lips, sucking hard on it; then getting my teeth onto it, to nip at it 
without mercy. 

When she let out a couple of stifled screams, I plunged my tongue into the 
opening as far as I could reach, tasting the excitement I had created there. 
I reached up behind her, grabbing her ass, and bringing us even closer 
together. The pleasure was so intense, I almost stopped having any feeling 
from the other end of me. 

Until something new happened down there. 

I felt my cock being slowly engulfed again. But, it was not Peggy's mouth 
this time. The hot pulsations rippled down around my swollen tool had a 
different feel. It wasn't until I felt the smooth weight of her ass settle 
against my groin and hips that I realized she had mounted me, put my dick up 
her snatch, and taken the whole length of it up inside her. 

She fit me like a glove of flame, turning her whole body from side to side, 
hitting every sensitive spot on my prick again and again. I tried to pump my 
hips a bit, but there was not enough leeway. I wanted to come; to make the 
unbearable fire fade away, but Peggy had me trapped against the table. 

So, all I could do was use my tongue and mouth more violently against Dina, 
sucking, biting, licking into her with all the energy I could muster. 

It worked. With a series of gasping "ooooohs" she reached her orgasm, her 
thighs coming together to trap my head, doubling over forward as though I 
were sucking out the last drop of her blood. 

When I knew she could stand no more, I pushed away her legs and her hands, 
took hold of her body firmly, and rolled her onto her side next to me. 

Then, I sat up facing Peggy. 

"We're going to fuck my way, baby," I said to her, grabbing her tight and 
turning us over without pulling my cock out of her even an inch. I brought 
her legs all the way up over my shoulders, so that her ass was off the 
table, and I was on my knees. 

And then I started. I pulled my dick almost all the way out of her, then 
rammed back the whole length just as hard as I could. I tried it again once 
or twice just to get the range. She wasn't Dina, and she didn't have that 
amazing inside control my aunt had, but she could take the whole length of 
it here as well as in her mouth. So I gave it to her. Fifty, seventy-five, 
maybe a hundred times. I was going to be the big stud Dina had dared me to 
be. I was going to fuck, and be sucked and eat until the two of them yelled 
for help. 

Something inside of me said this was going to be the last night with my 
special relative, and I had better make the most of it for old time's sake. 

Peggy came the first time long before I did, and I kept riding the length of 
my tool until she went off a second time. The furnace inside her cunt became 
too much for me then, and I blew my load. 

I pulled out of her knowing exactly what I was going to do. I swung around 
on the table above Dina, stretched her out on her back and pushed the 
dripping head of my cock up against her mouth. She took it inside just 
keeping it warm and comfortable, till I brought my mouth down onto her cunt 
again. Then, she went as wild as I was, swinging into the sixty-nine with 
all stops out. 

I came fairly fast. My second time is never too far behind. But, this put me 
on the road to number three, and that was a pretty long stretch of highway. 

I let the two girls take turns. There might be enough cock there for two, 
but it's not easy to give it to more than one at a time. I can't really tell 
all the different combinations and positions we went through that night. We 
spent at least another three or more hours at it, though. Whenever one of 
them seemed to get tired, I would switch to the other. 

I knew I came at least four times, and that I screwed Peggy up the ass once. 
The last load I remember getting off was into Dina's mouth, while Peggy was 
sucking on my nuts. 

We lay there a long time, Dina still playing with the tired hunk of meat 
even after it had gone completely soft. I remember thinking to myself, "Take 
a long look at it, baby. It's the last time you're going to see it." 

And, so far, I have kept to that promise I made myself. She was using me in 
some way I didn't like. Bringing Peggy there had been intended as a sort of 
insult. Up until a few months ago, the only times I ever saw her were at 
family get-togethers. 

I know she's had plenty of other guys. The family grapevine let's you know 
what everyone is doing. But, now, she had decided that I'm the one she 
really wants, and that what we had been to each other is the basis for 
starting up the relationship again. 

The temptation is very strong. I have cheated on Joan a few times, but 
nothing regular. I suppose almost every married man does. 

Geraldine is a different story, though. I'm afraid I might suddenly decide 
to say okay, and once I start with her, maybe I won't be able to stop. 
Worse, yet, it would be so much easier to get caught at it now. 

I guess I am one case where a stiff prick dot s have a conscience. What's 
your advice, Doc. 

* * * 

SUMMARY: Patrick's own natural insight had put him a long way toward the 
solution of his problem. When he realized how flattering his aunt's 
attention had been when he was young, and that he had allowed this interest 
to replace his normal sexual outlets, he began to view her, and the 
situation in a new light. 

He became aware, rather quickly, that he no longer needs this kind of 
ego-building. He is secure in his marriage and his masculinity. He remained 
as a patient only a few months, and said he would contact me again if he 
ever felt the need for a bit of moral support. I don't expect to hear from 
him. 

CASE THREE - MARY 

Mary G. is 17, an only child, who lives with her father, Gerald, 41. Her 
mother died of cancer when Mary was 9, and has been brought up by a series 
of maids and housekeepers. She had no relatives living closer than 500 
miles. 

Mary was referred to me through the psychologist-counselor at the high 
school she attends, after an hysterical outburst, accusing one of the male 
students of making sexual advances. 

In my office, she was exceedingly controlled and demure, but held to her 
story that Frank L. had said vulgar things to her, and exposed his sex 
organs to her in his car while driving her to school. 

In separate interviews with Frank, I had become convinced he had not done 
this. He is a very attractive athlete, exceptionally popular, and takes the 
attention he receives from girls very naturally. 

It took some ten sessions with Mary before she suddenly reversed her story, 
and headed toward the truth. 

I have been lying to you, Doctor. I'm sorry. 

(Analyst: Lying about what, Mary?) 

About Frank. He didn't do any of the things I said. He hardly ever noticed 
me at all. I guess I'm not pretty enough or sexy enough to make a popular 
boy pay attention to me. 

(Analyst: Did you want him to make advances to you?) 

Well, yes, in a way. 

(Analyst: What way, Mary?) 

I'm not sure. 

(Analyst: You mean like holding your hand, kissing you, walking with his arm 
around you?) 

No, Doctor. (Her voice gets shrill) 

I wanted Frank to do the things I said, and more. To take my clothes off, 
and have real sex with me. 

(Analyst: Are you in love with Frank?) 

What difference does that make? 

(Analyst: Well, usually the reason people have sex with each other is 
because they love one another.) 

I don't love the person I have sex with. I hate him! 

(Analyst: Who is that, Mary?) 

I can't tell you. (She starts to cry.) 

I promised I wouldn't tell. He said if I did, he would have me put away in 
an institution; a mental hospital. (She continues to sob.) 

I've got to tell someone! Can I trust you, Doctor? 

(Analyst: You can trust me completely, Mary. I can't help you, you know, if 
you aren't honest with me. I'm on your side.) 

Yes, I understand that. I just need someone I can depend on. I don't have 
anyone at all I can confide in. 

_ (Analyst: Yes, you do. You have me.) 

Thank you. I'll try. I don't really know where to start. 

(Analyst: At the beginning, Mary.) 

Well, you know that my mother died when I was nine. I never had anyone to 
depend on after that except my father. But, he is always busy with his job, 
and the different ladies he has gone out with. We had maids and 
housekeepers, but none of them really cared about me. I was just part of the 
job they were hired for. 

A couple of years ago, my father hired a woman named Bella to take care of 
the house and me. She was different from all the others. First place, she 
was younger, only in her thirties. And, she was much prettier. She wore nice 
clothes, and used make up. 

For the first time, I began to feel what it must be like to have a mother. 
She helped me pick out some of my clothes, and helped me set my hair. Things 
like that. I began to like Bella a lot. 

Until that awful night when my girl friend Jean got appendicitis. 

Jean's mother had allowed us to have a pajama party on a Friday, starting 
with dinner. Jean only lives a few blocks from me, so I walked over while it 
was still light. Right after we ate, Jean began to feel sick. They called a 
doctor, and sure enough, she had to be rushed to the hospital. 

Of course, the rest of us had nothing to do except go home. A couple of the 
other girls' parents came to get them and offered us all rides. So it was 
about ten o'clock that I came back to the house. 

At first, I thought my father must have gone out. The house was dark except 
for a light in Bella's room on the back of the first floor. I wondered why 
she would be sitting in there by herself, instead of watching television in 
the living room, so when I came in the front door, I went to tell her I was 
back. 

When I got near her room, I heard voices. I stopped to listen. I couldn't 
imagine what was meant by the words I heard. 

"Oh, do it slow." 

"Anything for you." 

"That's so good, Gerry. The other one, too." 

"How does that feel?" 

I recognized the voices. My father and Bella. Together in her room. I moved 
very quietly down the dark hallway. I could see light coming out across the 
floor and on the far wall, so I knew the door was open. 

Then, I was far enough along the corridor to see inside. My heart stopped. 
What I was looking at didn't seem possible. I couldn't speak. I thought for 
a while that my heart had stopped beating. 

They were both on Bella's bed. And, they were both completely undressed. The 
only light on was a table lamp on the far side of the bed, so I saw them 
almost as two silhouettes. 

Bella was lying flat on her back, her head propped up on one of the pillows. 
My father was kneeling over her, in a kind of crouched position. He was 
playing with her breasts. Rubbing his hands on them, squeezing them, 
plucking at the nipples. He would put his fingers in his mouth to wet them, 
and then run them smoothly and slowly over her. 

She kept turning her head from side to side, her mouth open, her breath 
coming so loudly, I could hear it. 

"Look how hard they are getting," he would say. 

"Oh, that's wonderful," she would answer. "Keep it up." 

I knew I should sneak back down the hall, go outside, walk a few blocks to 
find a public telephone, and let them know Jean's party was spoiled and I 
Was coming home. But, I couldn't move. I had to stay there and watch. 

(Analyst: Was this the first time you had ever seen anyone have sex?) 

Yes, Doctor. Except once, when I was sleeping over at Jean's house, I saw 
her older brother, Paul, masturbate. 

(Analyst: Did he know you were watching?) 

I don't think so. I had gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the 
bathroom. It is between Jean's room and Paul's. I had just walked in there, 
when I realized the door was open a bit to his room, and his light was on. I 
think he had just come home from a date. He was about eighteen or nineteen, 
then. 

I was going to close the door and lock it, when I looked through. He was 
lying on his bed, playing with himself. 

(Analyst: How long did you watch?) 

Till he... he was finished. He turned out his light, then, to go to sleep. 

(Analyst: You saw him nude?) 

Mostly. He had on a tee shirt. I could see everything else. 

(Analyst: You watched him ejaculate?) 

Yes, Doctor. 

(Analyst: How did it make you feel?) 

A little frightened, I think. I knew what it was. I supposed it made me feel 
excited, too. I thought about it a number of times later when I masturbated. 

(Analyst: But, the time with your father and Bella was the first involving 
two people?) 

Yes. 

(Analyst: All right, Mary, the session is about over. Try to recall your 
feelings about this experience, for the next session.) 

* * * 

Anyway, I stayed in the hall outside Bella's room, and watched what they 
did. 

After he had played with her breasts for a long time, he leaned down and 
started doing the same things with his mouth. Sucking at them, and sticking 
out his tongue to lick the tips of her nipples, getting her more and more 
excited every minute, so that they kept saying things to each other. 

"Bite them, Gerry." 

"You taste SQ sweet." 

The more I watched, the more I found myself becoming excited, too. I was 
beginning to perspire, there were odd itchings all over me. I think I was 
even rubbing myself between my legs right through my clothes. 

Then my father lifted his body up, and for the first time I saw him... 
his... 

(Analyst: His penis?) 

Yes. But, more than that! What doing those things to Bella had made happen 
to it. It was sticking out right at her, actually vibrating up and down 
while I watched it. 

She reached out and just about touched it near the end, and pulled her knees 
up. "Oh, yes," she said, "I want that in me." 

He reached under her legs, bringing her hips up off the bed, getting closer 
to her. 

"It's going to be in you," he said. "For a long, longtime." 

And, then he was actually up against her, his penis disappearing into her, 
her legs going up around him, their bodies coming together. 

He was no longer the person I knew as my father, but some strange man doing 
something he shouldn't. Bouncing up and down on her, making the bed shake 
and squeak. Holding her, kissing her, telling her how wonderful it was. 

Then, all of a sudden, they had reached the end. They were both moaning and 
rolling from side to side, and I couldn't stand it anymore. I ran down the 
hall, out onto the street, and wandered around for an hour or more crying. 

When I did come back to the house, Bella was watching TV in the living room, 
and my father was upstairs asleep. 

"You should have called, Mary," she said, "and your father would have come 
and picked you up. You shouldn't be out walking around at night." 

I lied and said that someone had walked me home. I also decided right then 
and there to get rid of her. The problem was, I didn't know how. All kinds 
of wild schemes came to me, but they didn't make any sense when I thought 
them out; and most of them wouldn't have worked anyway. 

I did make sure that there was almost no opportunity for them to be alone in 
the house. I stayed home to study, invited my friends to come visit. It was 
working, too. I could see both Bella and my father getting nervous and 
upset. They both began to lose their tempers more often; sometimes at me, 
but I didn't care. 

Then, Bella's sister got sick, and she had to go to Atlanta to help take 
care of her family. It was to be an indefinite stay. But, I'm sure my father 
has since told her never to come back. 

Now, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I got what I wanted, Doctor. But, I 
got much more of it than I can handle! 

(Analyst: Take it easy, Mary. I'm on your side all the way. Just keep 
talking, and get it out.) 

Don't you see? I hated her. I was jealous. I wanted my father for myself. 

(Analyst: But, that is the secret desire of every daughter, to make Daddy 
hers alone.) 

As a lover? 

(Analyst: What, exactly, do you mean by that word?") 

I thought it only had one meaning: The person you have sex with. 

(Analyst: Go on.) 

That's what my father is to me. And, vice versa. Lovers. Sometimes in his 
bed. Sometimes in mine. Usually, about three or four times a week. There's 
no set schedule. We just seem to know when it's going to happen. 

(Analyst: How did this start? And, when?) 

About two weeks after Bella had gone to Atlanta. I came home from school one 
day with a fever and upset stomach. Since I have had to take care of myself 
a lot during my life, I had sense enough to take some medicine and get to 
bed. When my father came, I was asleep, which was unusual, and he asked me 
what was wrong. 

At first, he was going to call the family doctor, but I convinced him it was 
nothing serious. He played nursemaid that evening by making me a light 
supper and bringing it up on a tray so I could eat in bed. 

I could tell he was lonesome, and I did my best to keep up conversation, and 
be cheerful. But, I tired myself out rather quickly, and fell asleep early. 

I awakened a few hours later, and got up to go to the bathroom. I could see 
a light from under his door, and when I came out of the john, he called out 
to find how I was feeling. 

I opened his bedroom door. He was sitting on the bed in pajamas, reading the 
newspaper. 

"I'm better I guess," I said. "Sorry I fell asleep." 

"You needed it, Mary. You'll probably feel better in the morning." 

"I'm not very sleepy now," I said, "Can I come in and talk for awhile?" 

"I guess so," he answered. 

I came over and got onto the bed next to him. 

His room seemed chilly, and I shivered. 

"I think you better get under the covers," he said, and proceeded to join 
me, putting his arm around me in a protective manner. 

Suddenly, I remembered him as I had seen him on Bella's bed; naked, excited, 
and so happy. There was no reason why I couldn't make him feel that way. 
And, here we were, side by side, in a bed with nothing between us but a few 
thicknesses of cloth. 

We weren't saying anything, just leaning against one another. I closed my 
eyes, and moved my hand over to rest on his leg. I could feel the strength 
of his muscles through the pajama trousers, and the thought of it made me 
decide not to stop what I was going to do. 

Very deliberately, I brought that hand up, reaching for that part of him he 
had put into Bella. It wasn't until I actually touched him that he reacted. 
And, then, it was not exactly the way I thought he might. 

"What are you doing, Mary?" he asked quietly. 

"Putting my hand on you," I answered. 

"Where on me?" 

"Here." I pressed against his penis, and felt a throb of movement in it. 

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked. 

"Yes." My heart was pounding so hard, I could barely hear his soft 
questions. 

"And, you want to?" 

"Yes, I do. Very much." 

"Why, Mary?" 

"Because I want you to feel good, and I know this is one way of doing it, 
and there isn't any reason for you to have to find anyone else to do it for 
you." 

There was another long silence then, but by that time, his penis had become 
quite hard, and I continued to hold it and rub it through the fabric. I was 
going to do everything I could to convince him not to stop me. 

"Have you done this with anyone else?" he asked at last. 

"No." 

"Then, do you want me to show you the right way to do it?" His arm had 
tightened around me. I had no idea how strong he was. 

"Yes, please." 

He turned me toward him, and kissed me full on the mouth. At first, I had no 
more reaction than if he were saying goodnight to me, but after a minute or 
so, the continued contact began to take effect. This is what it meant to be 
really kissed. Not just a boy putting his lips on yours, but a man; a real 
man trying to find an opening into your body with his mouth, his lips 
clinging to you, his teeth threatening to bite you, and his tongue leaping 
at you like a serpent. 

His mouth was like an enormous magnet drawing me up to him, and if it lasted 
five minutes or an hour I could not tell then, or on any night since. 

My hand was still on his penis during this endless embrace, and I got 
another lesson they don't teach in the sex education courses. The big thing 
under my hand seemed to have a life of its own. It would rise up to push 
against my palm for a while, bouncing and throbbing. Then seem to relax a 
bit, although it never got less hard. Finally, my curiosity had to be 
satisfied. 

I moved my hand till I found the opening into the pajama pants, then reached 
in to come in direct contact with him. How soft the skin on his penis was, I 
thought, and yet it feels as though there were a steel bar inside of it. I 
explored further. The skin was loose, and if I put my hand around the shaft, 
I could make the skin ride up and down. 

This was the way Jean's brother must have been manipulating himself, I 
realized, and slowed down on my father's penis. I didn't want it to end too 
soon. 

"Don't stop," he said to me, "Keep jerking on it." 

"But, then, it will all be over," I said. 

He looked at me smiling. 

"Not at all, Mary," he said. "Did you think a man can only come once? Is 
that what they teach you in those silly courses?" 

"Something like that." 

"That's not so. Maybe for boys, but not for men. The first one takes the 
pressure off," he said. "After that, the real excitement begins. Here, let 
me get out of my pajamas." 

He threw back the covers, and I saw his penis clearly for the first time. It 
had an upward curve in it, I had not noticed that night he was with Bella. I 
still had my hand on it, and I pulled the foreskin back. The head was shiny 
hard and smooth. 

I had to let go of it, so he could get up and take off the pants and the 
jacket. But, I didn't take my eyes away from him. 

My father is one of those men who believe that it is a sin to let one's body 
get soft and unattractive. As far back as I can remember, he would do 
exercises in the morning, as soon as he got up, and was always talking part 
in some kind of sports or outdoor activities. He goes hunting and fishing, 
belongs to a bowling group, and always seems to run, not walk. 

The results are plain to see; or, at least they were quite visible to me 
that night, and so many nights since then. Men ten years younger than his 
age would be proud to have his body. Compared to him, most of the boys at 
school are skinny and shapeless. 

When he was nude, and got back onto the bed, I asked, "Shall I take my 
nightgown off." 

"Not yet," he said. "That comes later. Now, start playing with my cock 
again, the way you were doing before. Up and down on it, so it will come. 
Put your other hand on my balls." 

I did as he told me, grasping the shaft of rigid flesh with one hand, and 
reaching below them with the other. Instinctively, I knew to handle those 
two large spheres carefully, just tickling them with my fingertips. 

"He put his arms around me again, and our mouths came together. Now the feel 
of his tongue on mine was more exciting than ever. As my own desire began to 
build, my hand was going faster and faster. I could tell from the increasing 
rate of his breathing, that I must be doing it the way he wanted. 

All of a sudden, his arms tightened, his breath was sucked in, and the rod 
in my hand was beating like a slow, giant heart. I felt something warm and 
wet on my arm. Then more of it on my hand. 

He fell away from me, on his back, and I had a close range view of what I 
had seen Jean's brother do from a distance. Thick spurts of white fluid 
would shoot up from the tip of his penis, and more of it would ooze up to 
spill down the sides. I wasn't sure whether the feel of the semen would 
bother me, but the excitement and wonder of having made him have an orgasm 
overcame any reaction like that. This was something from inside of him, and 
I was so happy that it had made him feel good. 

I kept on massaging his penis, until he said, "Come here and kiss me. Let me 
relax just a minute or two with you." 

I was in his arms again, and as soon as our lips came together, I put my 
tongue out to meet his. I brought my hands up to run them over his body, 
touching everywhere on his stomach, his chest, his arms. 

Now, his strong hands began to move on me: down my back, around the curves 
of my bottom, and along my thighs. A new kind of thrill was building up in 
me. I knew for sure now that I was going to enter a brand new world, and the 
one who was guiding me there would not let me miss even one of the important 
steps along the way. 

Very gently, he rolled over so that I was on my back, then pulled himself up 
away from me, kneeling astride me. He put both his hands under my nightgown, 
and like a breeze caressing my body, his hands moved upward taking the 
flimsy garment with them, and exposing me to him. A little wriggle of my 
shoulders and arms, and I was as naked as he. 

"You have a lovely body, Mary," he said. "Make sure you keep it that way, 
always." 

His words were almost as exciting as his first touch. If he thought I was 
attractive, then nothing else mattered. 

Now, his hands were on me, flat, hard and strong; stirring new feelings 
along my sides, my hips, across the flat of my belly. When he began to touch 
my breasts, I thought I might faint from the wonder of it. Even with the 
gentle touch, I was aware of the power in his fingers, cupping and pressing 
my flesh, making my small girlish breasts seem as large as the most famous 
of the movie stars. 

He put his fingers into his mouth for a moment, just as I had seen him do 
the night with Bella, and grasped both of my nipples with his lubricated 
fingers. 

I felt myself lift up a bit from the bed. The sensation was... I don't know 
the words for it, Doctor. Intense happiness running through me almost as if 
I had tasted something exceptionally sweet, but not with my mouth alone. 

I must have said something about it, because I heard him murmur, "I'm going 
to make you feel better and better." 

I could feel my nipples getting longer, harder and much more sensitive as he 
concentrated on them, now leaning down to take one in his mouth, suck on it, 
vibrate it with his tongue or press his teeth against it. 

The overwhelming sweetness boiling through me began to turn into a 
combination hot-cold sensation, as if a mixture of ice and fire had replaced 
the blood in my veins. I didn't realize I was trying to get my legs apart 
until I felt them pressing against his knees on either side. 

He moved his own legs, letting me open mine, so that he was now kneeling 
between them. One of his hands left my breast, moved downward across my body 
to be pressed flat against my entire crotch. He sat up erect again, 
unmoving. There was a long waiting period, while we looked at each other. 
The only thing that showed any motion at all, was the extended length of his 
penis, bobbing slightly in the same attitude of expectation which was 
possessing my entire being. 

His fingers moved; and the world moved with them. I don't know exactly what 
he had touched inside that opening, but I know I had crossed the threshold 
to Paradise. 

"Is that good?" he asked. 

My only answer was to try to press myself harder against his hand. Another 
finger joined the first, and they pushed a bit inward. I could feel the lips 
open to them, and unbelievable sensations moved outward from that spot. I 
wanted to draw him into me. Not just his fingers, not just his penis; but 
all of him. To fill that empty, aching space inside myself with him. 

Now, I suddenly knew what that word was that everybody whispered, and joked 
about, and laughed at. I knew exactly what it meant. And I used it. 

"Fuck me," I said. "Please fuck me all the way." 

"Oh, baby, am I going to," he answered, and both his hands were under me, 
raising me up so that my open yearning lips were up to the penis head. I 
could feel the hard, rounded, flexible shape seeking its way, slowly, 
gently, but with an inevitableness that was promising me the greatest joy I 
have ever known. 

I don't know how long it took him to insert the whole length of that organ, 
but every moment of it was ecstasy. 

"If I hurt you, tell me to stop," he said. 

"It doesn't hurt. It feels wonderful. Put it in further." 

"A little bit at a time, dear. The slower, the better. There is no need to 
rush." 

"Any way you tell me," I said. "I want it to be right for you." 

It was more than right for both of us. If I did not clearly recognize the 
signs of his mounting excitement, then I must have felt them unconsciously. 

We lay a long time this way, with him completely in me, till I could no 
longer stand the urges that were racing through me. 

"Start to do it to me, please," I begged him. 

His hips moved away; and then back. Away; and back again. Again, and again, 
and again. 

"Faster," I demanded. "Make it faster." 

And, he did; knowing just how far to withdraw before he plunged back inside 
once more, churning up new reactions every time. I felt as though I were 
being carried up an enormous mountain, reaching new levels every few 
seconds. And, I had to get to the top; to see this new world spread out at 
my feet. 

"Fuck me hard! Make me come!" I was screaming at him. 

"We're getting there!" he answered, "Let everything go inside. We're making 
it!" 

And, then we did. Every pumping jolt of his penis seemed to shoot right 
through me, and set off an answering orgasm of my own. Our mouths and 
tongues were as closely entwined as our sex organs. We kept pulling each 
other's body closer as if we were going to melt into one person. I had the 
feeling that the two of us were falling through space forever and ever. 

But, eventually, we drifted back down to earth, and to that bed, and to the 
fact that we were still closely joined, but no longer excited. 

"Did I make you happy?" I asked him. 

In response, he kissed me, maybe for ten minutes more, before he answered, 
"Happier than I have ever been. And, you, Mary?" 

"I don't ever want you to take it out of me," I said. 

"All right. I'll leave it right where it is," he answered, "for the rest of 
the night anyhow. We'll sleep that way." 

"Will it stay hard?" I asked. 

He smiled. "Hard enough to stay in you. Let's turn on our sides." 

We did, finding a comfortable position; kissed each other, and fell into the 
most restful sleep I had ever known. I don't think any girl has ever been 
happier than I was that night, or for most of the two years since. 

Until about five months ago. Then, everything started to go wrong. Now, I am 
losing the only man I ever loved or could love, and there is no one who can 
take his place. 

(Analyst: You mean there has been a change in your relationship with your 
father?) 

Yes. He doesn't want me, any more. He's found someone else. 

(Analyst: I see. Well, you'll tell me about this next time, Mary. Our time 
is up for now.) 

* * * 

Analyst's Note: Mary missed the next two sessions, calling me each time to 
say that school work was so heavy she could not take the time to come to my 
office. 

When she arrived the next time, I could see a most definite change, both in 
her attitude and appearance. 

(Analyst: I would guess that something has happened since I saw you last 
time. You look very contented. Am I right?) 

Yes, doctor, you are. I was lying to you again? 

(Analyst: About what?) 

The reason I gave you for not being able to come here. It wasn't school 
work, at all. 

(Analyst: What was it?) 

Sex. I have had sex with someone else. 

(Analyst: Tell me about it.) 

The more I have talked to you, the more I have been trying to find the 
reasons for the way I feel. About sex. About my father. 

You see, I found out my father was going to bed with another woman. 

(Analyst: How did you discover this?) 

Almost the same way I found out about Bella. But, this time it was on 
purpose. Something seemed to have changed between my father and me. Our sex 
was still the same, but I think the excitement of it had started to die 
away. For both of us, probably, but I knew he wasn't enjoying it as much as 
he had before I thought of my own reactions. 

About the same time, I made a couple of discoveries in our house. In his 
room, particularly. One afternoon when I came home from school, I could 
smell a perfume I had never used, and which I did not recognize. It was 
heavy; the kind an older woman might use. 

Then, I found some hairpins on his dresser. I never use them, although I 
don't think it has occurred to him one way or the other. The last thing was 
a fancy lace handkerchief that had gotten into the laundry, along with the 
sheets from his bed. It wasn't mine, so I knew some other woman had been in 
the house. 

The only time this could happen was when I was in school, and since my 
father's business has him moving around in the car, there wouldn't be any 
great problem about him coming home during the day. 

So, I played hooky from school, one day. I left for school, but came back 
about an hour later, and went up to my room. After a couple of hours, I 
thought I had just wasted my time, when I heard his car drive up. 

I peeked out of my window, and sure enough, there he was with a woman I had 
never seen before. At first, I was just going to walk downstairs and be 
there when they came in to let them make any kind of crazy excuse they could 
think of But, another idea occurred to me. I guess I took a chance, then, 
but now it doesn't make any difference. 

I ran across the hall into his room, got inside the big closet there, and 
left one of the two sliding doors open about two inches. The closet is quite 
deep and full of clothes, so even if he should open it, I could duck back to 
the other side and probably escape being found. Standing close to the 
opening, I could see most of the room quite clearly. 

They didn't waste any time downstairs, at all, but came right to his room, 
and started to undress. I could tell from their nonchalant attitude that 
this was far from the first time they had been together. 

When my father was taking off his watch, he said, "I don't have a hell of a 
lot of time, today, Jean. There's an appointment I have to make at one- 
thirty." 

"All right, Gerry," she answered, "how about a French special?" 

"Great," he said. "You know I don't care how we do it, as long as it's you 
and me." 

I almost stepped out of the closet at that remark. If he had run a knife 
into me, it couldn't have hurt any more than his words. But, curiosity 
overcame my anger. I had no idea what a "French special" was, and if it was 
something he had taught me, too. 

For a while, they lay on the bed in a deep embrace, occasionally running 
their hands over each other. Then, my father sat up, swung himself 
completely around, and lay down again, so that the two of them were lying in 
opposite directions. 

She immediately began to play with his penis and testicles, very much as I 
had on so many occasions, stroking and fondling, rubbing the loose skin up 
and down, and tickling the heavy sac below. 

I could see his erection growing, and the desire to have it in my hand, and 
in my vagina was almost overwhelming. 

While she was stimulating him, he had started to fondle her pubic area and 
the opening hidden there. Little by little I saw his fingers working deeper 
into her. Each was concentrating solely on making the other become more 
aroused. And, then, as if at some silent command, they both began to do 
something I had never seen before; something my father had neglected to 
teach me. 

She took my father's rigid sex into her mouth, and he pressed his face 
between her legs to kiss her in a new way. I had to put my hand over my 
mouth to keep from crying out to them. I was completely startled, maybe even 
a little bit horrified. But, the strongest feeling was one of being left 
out. My father had not given me all the sex he was capable of; he had not 
let me explore all the methods of bringing him happiness. 

I stood there helpless watching them eat at each other, only sensing the 
pleasure they were exchanging, and unable to do anything but wait until it 
was over, and they had gone. 

The tempo of this mutual sucking increased very much as it would with 
regular intercourse. In a sense, her mouth had become a vagina for him, and 
his tongue a penis for her. When they started to come, their moans of 
pleasure were muffled, as they continued the passionate action, harder and 
harder, writhing and sweating, actually rolling all the way over to their 
other sides; until they had drained the last ounce of juices and sensation 
from each other. 

In my hiding place, I felt as alone and deserted as if I had been dropped on 
an island thousands of miles from civilization. I turned away, going to the 
far back corner of the closet, and sat there shutting out even their voices, 
until they had dressed and left the house. 

This was a couple of weeks ago, Doctor. And, during that time, I tried to 
work up the nerve to tell him about it. But, I couldn't figure out how. When 
we were in bed, I tried to make our sex so good he would forget about anyone 
else. One time, I was playing with his penis, and thought, all I have to do 
is put it in my mouth, and he will know that I can do the same things she 
can. 

But, I didn't. I thought maybe I wouldn't do it right. Maybe there was a 
reason why he hadn't taught me to do that. 

Then, this other thing occurred. 

(Analyst: The reason why you cancelled the two sessions?) 

You know the boy, Frank; the one I made those accusations about? Well, last 
week in school one day, he came up to me in the hall, and asked if he could 
talk to me. After what I had said about him, I didn't expect he would ever 
talk to me again, and I told him so. 

I met him at lunch time, and we sat outside till it was time for the first 
afternoon class. He told me that he had seen you several times, and he knew 
I was having sessions with you. He wanted me to listen to what you had to 
say, because he was sure you wanted to help me solve whatever my problem 
was. 

When I said, "Of course, I know the Doctor wants to help me," he said, "I'm 
not sure you would listen to him." 

"Why not, Frank?" I asked. 

"Well," he answered, "I got the idea you didn't like men too much. Partly 
because of what you said about me, and partly because you ignored most of us 
all the time." 

That kind of shook me, Doctor. But the more we talked about it, the more I 
realized it seemed true. Of course, I had ignored the boys at school. I was 
having real grown-up sex which satisfied me completely, and there didn't 
seem to be any reason to let any of the high school fellows fool around with 
me. Certainly not just to please them! 

I thanked Frank for the advice, and said I would think about it. Of course, 
I couldn't tell him the truth. 

"When you change your mind about us guys," he said, "let me be the first to 
know. I'd like to go out with you before the line forms!" 

I did think about it. Very hard and long. My first chance to do something 
about it was last Friday. He and I had talked again at lunchtime, and I told 
him I would love to spend some time with him. 

"All right," he said, "How about right after school today? We'll take a 
little ride in my car." 

I started to say no, because I was supposed to come here to your office 
after school. But this seemed more important. That's why I called you. 

We met after the final class, and drove across town to get some pizza and 
coke. Then, he drove me back to my house. As you probably know, Frank is a 
very mature type of boy, and talking with him and being with him is not just 
a high school date sort of situation. I was getting to like him more every 
minute. 

So, I asked him to come on in the house for a while. We turned on the radio 
in the living room, and danced a couple of numbers. I told him I had better 
music on records upstairs, so we went to my room. 

I put the record player on, but we never got through the first piece of 
music before he kissed me. We were standing in the middle of the room, with 
our arms around each other, and I could tell he hadn't decided whether to 
try to go any further than that. So I opened my mouth and put my tongue out. 
There was no hesitation on his part His tongue came back immediately, and 
his arms went around me tight. I pulled him toward me, too, and in a minute 
or two I could feel that he was getting a hard on. 

When we finally broke apart for a second, I said, "Let's lie down on the 
bed, Frank. It will be more comfortable." 

"Okay," he answered, and we were side by side, our mouths crushing into each 
other, our bodies pushing tight together. 

I knew what to do to arouse him, of course, but I was still afraid of what 
he might think of me. There wasn't really any alternative. If he didn't like 
me for it, then he might as well know now. 

I ran one hand up and down his back for a minute, then down onto his 
buttocks and his thigh. His muscles jumped under my touch. When I let the 
hand stay on the side of his leg, he moved away from me just enough so that 
there would be room in between us for a hand to go. 

There was no hesitation on my part. I put my hand directly on the front of 
his pants, feeling the swollen shape of him inside. 

His hand moved just as quickly and resolutely, up under my skirt, along the 
inside of my leg, and right past the panties to finger the whole area of my 
vagina and the hair around the opening. A moment later he had two or three 
fingers into it, moving in and out smoothly and excitingly. He knew what he 
was doing, and he had me fully aroused. 

I struggled a bit to get his trousers and fly opened, but I made it without 
any assistance from him. His penis and testicles were still hidden from my 
hand by a pair of brief undershorts. I simply slid my hand down inside, past 
the elastic waistband, and took hold of him with a sense of real triumph. 

We continued to play with each other without breaking the kiss, matching the 
tantalizing movements of our hands, with wonderful twistings and turnings of 
our tongues. 

Then, abruptly, he changed the pace of the encounter. He took his fingers 
out of my vagina, pushed my skirt up as far as he could, shoved his 
undershorts down, and took my hand away from his penis. 

"Can I put it in you for a while?" he asked. 

"You can put it in me all the way," I answered. 

"I don't have any protection with me," he said. 

"You don't need it, Frank," I told him. "I take the pills." 

"You do?" I could see both surprise and doubt in his look. 

"My father insisted on it," I said. "Just in case." 

"Wonderful," he said, and a moment later I felt his organ slip up past the 
pushed-aside panties into my waiting vagina. He moved into me slowly. His 
penis was thicker than my father's, but I had no trouble adjusting to it. It 
was his method of actual fucking which completely set me off. 

Frank began to move back and forth with rather short, steady strokes, always 
keeping at least half of the length of that heavy column of flesh in contact 
with the sensitive lining of my vagina. The effect is quite wonderful. More 
of the nerves inside are constantly being stimulated, and it produced much 
more sensation for me with almost no effort on my part. 

He finally brought his hands up onto my breasts, but made no attempt to get 
inside my clothes to fondle them. His hands are large enough to cover each 
of them completely, pressing against the nipples and massaging them. 

Except for whispering my name between kisses, the only thing he said during 
the whole time was, "I want to make you come." 

"You will," I answered, and let my body and my desire respond to what he was 
doing. 

My orgasm was totally unexpected; not the wild release I had always gotten 
from my father, nor sudden outpouring at the end of masturbation. It started 
unannounced, like the changing of a tide, flowing outward and taking all my 
tensions and problems with it; making me conscious only of the regular, 
dependable, unhurried movement of his penis. 

Then, Frank came. I could feel the spurting inside me. He moved closer, 
inserting the full length of it so that every throbbing movement of it was 
transmitted to me completely. 

For the time we lay there, I heard only a quiet voice inside my head telling 
me I had found something new and very wonderful. 

We talked for a while, and then Frank went home. 

Things have changed for me, Doctor. And, I think for the better. 

(Analyst: You saw Frank again?) 

Yes. Monday afternoon. When I cancelled the last appointment. 

(Analyst: Did you have sex again?) 

In a way. No intercourse. We got completely undressed, and lay touching each 
other for an hour or so, and then made each other come by hand. He liked the 
way I jerked him off, and his hands are as wonderful in my vagina as any 
penis. 

(Analyst: Whose idea was it not to have intercourse?) 

Both of ours, I'd say. We know we can do it whenever we want, but we think 
we can get to know each other better in other ways, too. 

(Analyst: And what about with your father, Mary?) 

I haven't been to bed with him since the first time with Frank. I don't know 
whether I will. He hasn't said anything about it. For all I know, he is 
relieved. And, I am sure he is still seeing that other woman. 

(Analyst: Then, I take it you are much happier with things the way they are 
now?) 

Very much, Doctor. I only hope I can stay that way. 

* * * 

SUMMARY: Mary ended her sessions with me when the school year came to a 
close, understanding that I am available to see her whenever she might feel 
she must come back. 

She had a job for the summer, and Frank and she have been going quite steady 
since their encounter. She feels he may well replace her father for every 
one of her needs, and I have no reason to doubt that this will be so. 

CASE FOUR - JAMIE 

Jamie A. is 22 years old, the younger of two boys by six years. He has been 
a member of the United States Marine Corps since 19, und at the time this 
interview was made, had been back from Vietnam less than a month. 

Jamie was referred to me by a friend of his family who knew me. He came not 
as a patient, but to seek advice. The section reproduced here was that 
portion of the two conversations which dealt only with his descriptions of 
an observed incestuous relationship. 

I swear to God, Doctor, I am so mixed up, I don't know if I'm the one who is 
crazy, or if it's the rest of my family. I got shot up over in Nam, and I 
thought maybe it had shook up my brains so that I was having hallucinations. 

But, what I saw happen once, I saw a second time, and I don't think you can 
have the same kind of crazy vision twice. I know a lot of weird things have 
happened here in the States since I've been away, but there have got to be 
some limits. 

I just wanted to find out who is right and who is wrong. 

(Analyst: Your friend, Mr. R., tells me you are a very level-headed guy. 
There is no reason I know of why I should not accept your word as fact. Just 
go ahead and tell me the story.) 

Okay. Well, as you know, I came from the Pacific a couple of weeks ago. 
There is just me and my brother Sam, and my mother. My father is still alive 
somewhere, I think. He walked off from the family about four years ago. 

I'm beginning to think I know a little bit of why he walked off. But, that's 
not why I'm here. 

While I was overseas, my mother and my brother moved into a new apartment, 
further uptown in a better section. My brother seems to be doing well in his 
business, and my mother went back to work when my father left, so they can 
well afford the new place. 

The one thing that surprised me about this apartment was that it had only 
two bedrooms. Our old flat had three, which meant that Sam and I each had a 
room to ourselves. It made me feel that they didn't expect me to come back 
there to live with them after I got out of service. 

Or, maybe they just didn't expect me to come back from Vietnam. 

Well, the hell with that. I did come back, and as far as they acted, they 
were glad to see me. They had a party for me that was really a wing- ding. 
The only thing wrong as a result of the party is that I got one hundred 
percent loaded. I don't remember anyone leaving, although supposedly I 
kissed each and everyone goodnight and thank you. I didn't get sick, but I 
did pass out solid, absolute zero cold. 

Because of this, or at least so I was told, instead of putting me on one of 
the studio couches in my brother's room, they decided to give me the privacy 
of the double bed in my mother's room. 

That's why, when I did wake up, I had a very dim idea of where I was. I 
really should not have been awake at all. A clock with a night glow face, on 
the table next to the bed, told me it was not even three o'clock in the 
morning. I sat up in the bed, and spent five minutes or more trying to 
orient myself in the world. 

When I realized which room I was in, I had to try to remember which way the 
bathroom or kitchen was if I got up enough energy to go for a drink. I was 
really dehydrated from the alcohol, but so tired, too, that it would have 
been easier for me to fall back on the bed, and go to sleep again. 

Finally, I got up, a bit shakily, wondering who had undressed me and put me 
in bed. Sam is more than twenty pounds lighter than I am. I supposed it had 
to be both him and Mom. Whatever thoughts were chasing through my foggy mind 
were about to be wiped out entirely. 

I went across to the door, guided by a gleam of light which indicated that 
the door was slightly ajar. This fact, plus my being barefoot, combined to 
make my entrance into the hallway absolutely silent. So silent, in fact, 
that I was able to hear voices through the closed door of the other bedroom. 

I almost opened that door and walked in, except for the quality of one of 
the voices, and the words, though partly muffled, which came through to me. 
The voice was feminine, but shrill in a way I had never heard before. And, 
certainly not using language like that. 

"Don't be such a stick, Sam. I like to suck your cock! I don't have to come 
every time." 

At first, I thought I was much drunker than even I was conscious of, but I 
put my ear close to the edge of the door and continued to listen. 

"All right, have it your way." It was surely Sam's voice. "If that's how you 
prefer to get me off, then go ahead and do it. But, I do have to get up 
tomorrow and go to work." 

A harsh laugh sounded like my mother, but was transformed in some way. 

"I'll do it fast then. I wouldn't want you to lose too much sleep." 

The drunken quality in her talk was clear, but being high and talking in 
this manner didn't go together in my mind. Something was totally out of 
kilter. If I couldn't believe my ears, then the only thing to do was check 
it with my eyes. I would have to see it. 

Very, very carefully, I grasped the handle of the door to Sam's room. It 
turned noiselessly, and I felt it release the catch. There was some more 
conversation from inside, but it was so softly spoken that I couldn't hear 
it. I was sure that it served to cover any possible sound the door catch 
might have made. 

Then, the door could be pushed inward. Holding the handle, I made it move 
just as slowly as I could manage in my combined state of confusion and 
hangover. I didn't have to push it very far to get an unobstructed view of 
what I wanted to see. 

And seeing it was almost beyond believing. 

My brother Sam was lying back on one of the studio couches which had been 
opened into a bed. He was completely nude. Sitting between his spread legs 
was my mother. Or, should I say, our mother, dressed in an attractive blue 
nightgown. She was leaning forward toward Sam, almost like someone having a 
conversation. 

But one of her hands was cupped under Sam's balls, her finger playing gently 
with them. The other was very delicately holding his cock near the base of 
it, with just two fingertips. 

It was the first time I had ever seen Sam with a hard-on, I remember 
thinking, and I was a bit surprised at how well hung he was. That seems like 
an odd reaction to have in view of the fact that at the moment, the head of 
his cock was completely hidden from view inside my mother's mouth. She was 
obviously doing something she had done many times before, and, judging by 
the expression on Sam's face, something at which she had a great deal of 
talent. 

Sam is not normally very demonstrative or expressive, but he was positively 
glowing with ecstasy, his hips riding a bit from side to side, and up and 
down in response to the stimulation he was getting. 

"Wonderful, wonderful," he kept saying, sounding as though he were about to 
pop his load any second. But, of course, I don't know him very well. 
Certainly not as well as my mother seemed to, and after a few minutes, she 
shifted her attack, as it were, by starting to lick the length and breadth 
of his cock with such intensity that I found myself starting to get a 
hard-on. 

She worked her way right down onto his balls, sucking on each of them, and 
seeming to be about to drive Sam right up the wall. 

"Oh, come on, honey," he said suddenly. "That's too good not to share. Get 
out of the nightgown." 

She smiled at him. "All right, you changed my mind," she said, and stood up 
to take the blue chiffon thing off over her head. 

I have to say, Doc, that I got a different kind of jolt from seeing her 
bare. The old girl is in her late forties, at least, but out of her clothes 
I suddenly realized she is still quite stacked. 

I could see that Sam realized it too. He was up, and all over her with his 
mouth, kissing her breasts and stomach, her face, her neck, and back down 
again right to her crotch. He didn't waste any amount of time at this, 
though, because she was already on the couch, legs open and ready to receive 
him. 

If it's possible to be shocked and have hot pants at the same time, then I 
am nowhere as crazy as I thought I was standing there peeking through the 
narrow opening of the door. I had put my hand on my own dick, and was even 
considering jerking off while they were at it, when I thought, no, that's 
not very nice. Where did I get this particular attitude? From the two people 
who were racking up one of the most thorough pieces of ass I have ever seen. 

My mother had warned me against masturbation in terms that would only make 
sense to someone who was a thorough practitioner. My brother Sam had 
actually walked into the bathroom one day, maybe ten years ago, when I was 
whacking it off in the privacy of my own fantasies; and gave me a lecture 
which sounded as though it had come straight from the Boy Scout manual. 

There is some expression like, "Don't do as I do, do as I say," or something 
like that, and I have the feeling it applies here. 

Anyway, Doctor, I stood there watching Sam fuck her, and decided against 
"self-punishment" as they used to call it, not on any moral grounds, but 
simply because I was convinced that I was not seeing anything more than the 
sick distortions of a mind ruined by years of secret pleasures. 

(The sharp sound of a hand banging hard against a piece of furniture.) 

Why am I doing that, Doctor? 

(Analyst: What do you mean, Jamie?) 

Why am I sitting here trying to make a joke out of this situation, as though 
I were so experienced and blase that it means nothing to me? 

(Analyst: By reducing this to the ridiculous, you are making it unreal 
enough to take the threat out of it. Like a little child who conjures up 
terrible creatures in the dark which he knows he invented, so that the 
things which actually frighten him seem so much less terrifying by 
comparison. Don't hesitate to be afraid. It is by far the better part of 
valor.) 

Then you think it is real? You believe that I saw my older brother and my 
mother go through a total sex act? 

(Analyst: Yes, I believe it. You believe it, too, whether you want to or 
not. You said that this was one of two different occurrences. Tell me about 
the other time.) 

How can you take it so calmly? I mean, I know these are not your relatives 
I'm talking about, but don't you ever get shocked at anything? 

(Analyst: Being shocked is just a temporary state of reaction, Jamie. If you 
mean shocked in the sense of making a moral judgement, then my answer is no. 
Your gallows humor in telling me about this was to protect your sense of 
shock, not mine. In fact, the act of telling about this helps to relieve 
your own sense of outrage. Go on, please.) 

I think I understand what you are saying. Anyway, I'll keep talking. It's 
better than talking to myself. 

I went back to my mother's room, and I suppose the only reason I fell asleep 
was that now I was both emotionally and physically exhausted. I slept way 
past noon the next day, and when I did come to, no one was in the apartment. 
They both work, you know. 

Mother had left a note about food, and seeing me at dinner time, but all I 
wanted was to get the hell away from there. I left a note saying I wouldn't 
be home till late, called up some old friends and went visiting and 
drinking. 

When I came home, the night light in Sam's room showed me I was to sleep on 
the other studio couch. 

Again, the next day and the next, I got up long after they had gone, and 
came home late enough to be sure they had gone to sleep. 

Then came Saturday. I had already invited Mother to go out to dinner and a 
show with me, and Sam was off on a date. During that afternoon, I reached 
the point where I was about to announce to them what I had seen, but the 
more we sat around giving each other the same kind of small talk and family 
bullshit we had for years, I was just as sure that it had to all be 
hallucination, or a vivid nightmare, or some kind of mental short circuit. 

Mother and I had a great evening. She loves to dress up and be seen, she 
likes good drinks and good food, and the movie we went to turned out to be 
hilarious. We even stopped for a rich dessert somewhere in the Times Square 
area before heading home. 

W bade each other very proper good nights, and went to our respective rooms, 
However, one little action started my suspicions off again. I had left the 
door of Sam's room open, with just the night light on so that he would be 
able to find his way to bed without waking me by turning on lights. 

About half an hour after we were in bed, I was just dozing off when I heard 
Mother pass down the hall to the kitchen. She must have gotten a drink of 
something. I am sure she thought I was asleep. On the way back toward her 
room, she stopped, and very quietly closed the door to the room I was in. 

This jolted me awake. It could only mean one thing, and I had to stay 
conscious and alert to hear what happened when Sam came home. 

I was right, Doctor. He arrived about half an hour later, and I heard her 
soft call to him, a quiet answer, and then, nothing at all. 

I didn't wait very long to get out of the bed, turn off the night light, and 
go to the bedroom door. I opened it in the same way I had on that other 
night. The hallway was dark, but when I stuck my head out, I could see light 
coming from Mother's room. 

There was little hesitation on my part. I padded down the hall, and came up 
across from the partly open doorway, and stopped. This time there was not a 
sound coming from either of them, because they were in the midst of a 
sixty-nine. 

Why they had to leave even a little lamp on, I don't know, but I could see 
their total absorption in the stimulation of each other's sex. It was a 
picture, that in other circumstances, would signify complete and open love: 
a woman sucking on a man's penis with unswerving purpose. A man searching 
out the depths of a woman's desire with his mouth and tongue. 

I watched until I saw them in the shuddering release of mutual orgasm, then 
almost ran back to Sam's room, the strange studio couch, and all the 
terrible thoughts I have been carrying around with me. 

Now, I am trapped by the situation because I have not said anything to them 
stating how I feel. If this is all real, then there must be something I can 
do to separate myself from it. 

* * * 

SUMMARY: In that last sentence from Jamie's transcribed words lies the 
answer to his problem. To separate himself from it. Briefly, we discussed 
the possibilities of Oedipal jealousy, with his brother being substituted 
for the more normal role of the father. But, on a practical level, he has to 
do no more than remove himself from the premises, and inform his mother and 
brother by letter that he knows of their relationship, and wants nothing to 
do with it or them. 

He understood that the effect this might have on them is not really his 
concern, as is the effect their conduct has had or might have on him. 

He accepted this motto: Different people, different needs, different 
solutions. 

CASE FIVE - MARIAN AND BILL 

Marian and Bill F. came to me as part of a therapy group involving only 
married couples, and continued with the others for a period of some four 
months. 

During one of the sessions, based on certain information each of them had 
given at different times, one of the other group members accused them of not 
being married really, and being in the group on false pretenses. 

Bill became very angry, and walked out of the session. Marian came to see me 
privately a day or so later to explain their true situation. In response to 
her request, and my urging, they began to see me individually. But, their 
case is presented as a single one because of its unique psychological 
character. 

Both of them are attractive, intelligent, and outspoken. Marian is 28, Bill 
26. They operate a business together in the field of public relations. 

* * * 

MARIAN: I suppose Bill has always been the more sensitive one about our 
situation. He is so afraid someone is going to find out. I've told him that 
the more he worries about it, the more likely it will be that he will reveal 
himself to the wrong people. 

I think the reason that man in the group was so convinced we were not a 
married couple was from facts that Bill had let slip without realizing it. 

Almost from the time our relationship began, he was on the verge of giving 
the secret away. When people ask me where our families live, I tell them we 
are both virtually orphans, with no close relatives. Bill blushes and gets 
all shook up, and ends up saying that they live at the other end of the 
country. 

(Analyst: Is either story true?) 

No. They are all in Chicago, and quite alive and well, and they think it's 
wonderful that two cousins have formed a business together and get along so 
well at the same time. 

(Analyst: What happens when they visit here? How do you keep them from 
knowing you live together?) 

That's easy. Our office is in a renovated brown- stone, and part of it is 
actually an apartment. That becomes Bill's place when occasion makes it 
necessary. Our regular apartment is my address. Since so much of our work 
keeps us together, no one in the family would question the fact that 
clothing and personal accessories of his are in my place, or that I keep 
hair spray and cosmetics and changes of clothing at his office. 

The only real precaution we have to take is to keep our friends who know us 
as married strictly away from any contact with our family. Especially the 
one or two couples we occasionally swing with. 

(Analyst: Are you using the word "swing" in a sexual sense, Marian?) 

Yes, Doctor. Switching partners and group intercourse are getting almost as 
commonplace as... people in therapy. But, they have strict codes and rules, 
one of which is "No Singles Allowed." Only married couples are considered 
eligible to partake in these cooperative arrangements. So we are married as 
far as they are concerned. I, for one, would hate to miss out on these 
sexual opportunities. 

(Analyst: Before we get into that area of your lives, I'd like to hear how 
you first came to be attracted to each other.) 

I was the family babysitter. I'm referring to my mother's family; two 
sisters and three brothers, all living in Chicago, all married, all with 
children. I was the oldest, and being a girl, the number one choice to take 
care of my cousins when there was an occasion for one or more of the parents 
to go out. 

Bill was the second oldest, the son of my mother's brother George. But, 
because he was a boy, he was never considered for the babysitter chores. As 
he got older, however, he usually was included as a kind of guard, keeper of 
the order, and stalwart assistant to me. 

The result of all this was that Bill and I spent a great deal of time 
together; more than cousins normally would. And it also placed us in a 
special .psychological situation. At least, all of the group therapy wasn't 
wasted on me. I now see that a boy and girl, both just past puberty, being 
left in charge of two or more younger children begin to take on the roles of 
a mother and father. 

It was that kind of game, a childish "playing house," which started us... 
playing house for real. I'm not making a joke of it. I honestly think he and 
I were meant for each other, and just happened to find it out early. 

I was just fifteen and Bill was halfway to four teen and it was New Year's 
Eve. The family was getting together to celebrate at one of the homes, and 
Bill and three younger cousins were dumped over at my parents' place. I 
remember being damned mad about it. At fifteen, I expected to be going out, 
at least to the late movie in the neighborhood with the other kids I knew. 
But, in my family, children had absolutely no say, as long as the parents 
were bigger. 

Bill, on the other hand, was delighted. It meant that he would sleep over, 
and he reminded me in whispers as soon as he got there that we could stay up 
as long as we wanted since the grownups would probably not show up till 
daylight, and the younger kids would be ready for sleep long before ten in 
the evening. 

"We'll have our own New Year's Eve party," he grinned. "Just you and me, 
Marian. It'll be great!" 

And, it was. Of course, my folks had prepared some special treats for us to 
eat after they had gone, and paper hats, noisemakers, and balloons to blow 
up and bust. With the TV set blaring out, and the little kids working 
themselves into a junior-sized frenzy, we made up in volume for what we 
lacked in numbers. 

We put the little ones in bed long before ten, and they all fell asleep 
fast. Bill and I went back to the living room, threw some paper streamers at 
each other, then settled down to wait for Guy Lombardo. 

There was candy, cake, and soda to while away the commercials, till I got a 
better idea. I knew where there was a bottle of wine, and Bill and I started 
toasting with it. As the time approached midnight, the alcohol was beginning 
to have its effect on both of us. Laughing jags, silly dancing around, and 
then fits of saying, "Shhh, you'll wake the children. You have to be a quiet 
Mommy," or "Don't giggle so loud, Daddy." 

When the witching hour actually arrived, I don't think either of us knew 
exactly what we were supposed to do. We had done all the yelling and jumping 
up and down we could stand for the evening. There had to be some other way 
to signify the brand new year. We stood in front of the television set, 
looking at each other, and the solution came simultaneously. We threw our 
arms around each other and started kissing. 

At first, it was just part of the game. We broke the kiss, stood clasped 
together, and laughed. Then, we kissed again. I felt Bill take in a sudden 
deep breath, and something clicked in me. 

We parted again, but this time with no laughing. 

"Let's do it like on television," Bill said. 

I didn't ask what he meant, but put my mouth to his once more, and felt his 
lips open, and the tip of his tongue run along mine. My heart started to 
pound, I knew I shouldn't keep on with this, but that little licking contact 
made me want much more. 

I stuck out my tongue against his. There was a brief pushing battle between 
them, almost as if it were going to turn into a game again, but his arms got 
tighter around me, and the almost-joke became an arousing soul kiss. 

We must have stood there in the living room, right in front of Guy Lombardo 
and the crowd in the Loop for close to fifteen or twenty minutes exploring 
the variety of sensations and reactions which are possible between two 
mouths. I know that neither of us wanted to stop, and it is likely that Bill 
wasn't quite sure what we were supposed to go on to after the kissing. 

Certainly not back to eating candy, drinking soda, and blowing on a cheap 
horn. But, whatever his knowledge or lack of it might have been, his courage 
and resolve were not lacking. 

"Let's play Mom and Dad," he said to me, after a long sustained kiss. And 
when I didn't answer, he added, "You know, Marian. In bed." 

"I don't know, Bill." I was scared, Doctor. It was like one of those dreams 
where you find yourself sitting at the controls of a big jet airliner, and 
no one but you knows you haven't the foggiest idea of how to fly it. 

"We don't have to do anything," he said. "Just get into bed together." And, 
then, as if to clarify everything, "With no clothes on." 

So we left the television set on, and went into the respective rooms where 
we were supposed to sleep to get undressed. Out of habit, I guess, I closed 
the door, and when I had gotten out of my dress and underthings, put on my 
flannel nightgown. 

Then, Bill knocked on the door, and I said, "Come in," and when he opened 
the door, he was standing there completely naked, except for a pair of 
slippers. 

"Where's your pajamas?" I said to him in a shouted whisper. 

"In the other room." 

"Get them!" 

"But, we're going to do it--" 

"Bill, bring your pajamas in here! In case someone comes home!" 

"Oh, I see," he said, ran back to the other room, and was back in a minute. 

I will say one thing for Bill; even as a kid, he had no false sense of shame 
about his body. He has a healthy pride in it, and all its parts. And he is 
just exhibitionist enough to know that at a swinger group he can strip down 
while others are a little undecided, and get the rest of them turned on. 

Anyhow, here he was in my room, with everything showing, including an 
expectant expression on his face, and a very blunt question. "Why are you 
wearing that?" 

"I don't know," I said, and I took it off. 

He looked at me again, very completely, and my heart was pounding again. 

"Let's sit on the bed," he said. 

I sat on the edge of it, but he got in the middle, sitting cross-legged, 
like a Boy Scout at a campfire. 

He was simply staring at my body, and it made me feel uncomfortable. I felt 
like some kind of exhibit in a museum rather than a person, and this isn't 
what had crossed my mind when he had suggested playing "Mom and Dad." 

Finally, I said, "Let's kiss some more, Bill. I liked that." 

He agreed, and we lay down side by side, one arm around each other, and 
started the exploration of those sensations again. 

Bill was the first one to start moving a hand around, first on my back, then 
along my side, and at last, very slowly, onto my breast. He was simply 
holding it, slightly pressing against it, but even that little bit of 
contact was making me respond. The wonderful sensation in my breast was new 
to me then, and I was a bit surprised when Bill pulled away from my mouth to 
say, "Look, Marian." 

He indicated the nipple under his hand. It had become extended, and when he 
took it between his thumb and forefinger, I realized how sensitive it was. 

I must have made a little sound, because he looked at me questioningly. 

"It's all right, Bill. It feels good," I told him. 

He continued to touch and test the nipple and the breast; and then both of 
them, using two hands. The feelings were increasing, and a sense of real 
delight was building up inside. I was watching his hands just as 
fascinatedly as he was seeing what he was doing, and I got another surprise 
when I looked past them, down along his slim body, and saw the straight 
shaft of his erection. 

I reached out and took hold of it, and Bill suddenly cried out, "Oh, no!" 
His body stiffened from head to foot, and he came, the semen shooting out 
partly on my legs, and on the bed, too. There wasn't a lot of it; just two 
or three spurts, but his reaction was as complete as the longest orgasm I 
have ever seen in any man. 

I think that is the biggest difference between us. I enjoy sex probably more 
than most women do. But Bill flips over it. That night, and some of the 
other first times, were strictly exploratory. Once he knew just what sex was 
all about, and where he wanted to go with it, he would turn on to high 
volume right from the very beginning, digging every touch as much as 
full-fledged intercourse. It's almost as though it were a wild drug for him. 
He can literally wear out a room full of people, and still be ready for more 
with a big smile on his face. 

(Analyst: You almost sound as if you resent that quality in him, Marian.) 

That's a very interesting observation, Doctor. You may be right. 

* * * 

BILL: I've always known we were doing something wrong, Doctor, and I still 
do. But, the arrangement is so easy and convenient for both of us, there 
seems to be no real reason to end it. Not right now, at least. 

(Analyst: Do you think it will end some time?) 

It almost has to. After all, by the time we reach thirty, people in our 
families will begin to wonder why we haven't gotten married. And, somewhere 
along the line, I think both Marian and I will want to have children. 

Of course, she had already got a solution to that problem. Tell our friends 
we can't have ones of our own, and adopt them. But, that can't be explained 
to our families. And I think the adoption agencies might start to check for 
something as simple as a marriage license before they agree to anything. 

(Analyst: Does Marian know how you feel about these matters?) 

She should. I've talked to her about them enough. But she always says 
something like, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," and acts as if 
we were going to live together for the rest of our lives just as happily as 
any married couple could. 

Another favorite expression of hers is, "Love conquers all." And when she 
says it, she means it both as a joke, and for real. She does love me. I know 
it all the time; not only when we're making it together. And, I suppose I 
love her as much as I am able to love anyone. 

I should. She has been better to me than any ten other people in the world. 
She understands me perfectly. And, she is the most marvelous sex partner 
imaginable. I realized that the night we first had sex with another couple. 

This was shortly after we had come to New York, and at that time, we were 
working for two different public relations firms. Marian and I were living 
in a hotel in two adjoining rooms, registered separately, but sleeping 
together, of course. 

At our jobs, our co-workers knew each of us were married, but we never 
invited any of them to visit us. However, one of the guys I worked with had 
Marian and I over several evenings with him and his wife, and friends of 
theirs; and we began to go out with them for meals, movies, and that sort of 
thing. 

That first summer, they had taken a little beach house out on Long Island, 
and asked us to come spend a weekend with them. It was all very relaxed and 
friendly. I liked Ward and Fran, and they are still among our special 
people. There had been the usual kind of kidding back and forth about, "Gee, 
I'd like to try your wife out," and "Okay, but you'll have to lend me 
yours." But, till that weekend, it was no more than kidding. 

One of the things the beach people seem to do a lot of is drink, and by ten 
o'clock on that first Friday night we were all fried. Nobody particularly 
noisy or sick, because we were eating all kinds of nonsense with the 
cocktails, but I was in a real who-gives-a-shit mood, and suggested we all 
go for a bareass swim to clear our heads for more drinking. 

Marian says that I'm an exhibitionist, and will use any excuse to show off 
my body. Maybe she's right, but I like being nude, and it doesn't have 
anything particular to do with sex. At least, not most of the time. 

Ward said, fine, he would do it; and Marian was agreeable, but Fran thought 
we shouldn't. Nobody paid any attention to her. I went into the little room 
they had given us, stripped down, and wrapped a towel around me. When Marian 
saw I was undressed, she went in and got her clothes off. Ward undressed to 
his shorts right in the living room while still trying to convince his wife 
to join us, and came right along with Marian and me, leaving Fran behind. 

Marian was wearing a shorty robe, which she took off and hung on the railing 
at the bottom of the steps from their house. It was mostly dark on the 
beach, with about a three-quarter moon, so she didn't feel she was parading 
around openly. 

The three of us went into the water, laughing and splashing around like 
kids. There is a great sense of freedom swimming in the raw, and I felt like 
I wanted to stay there forever. 

Marian and Ward went out of the water after fifteen minutes or so, but I 
stayed there floating and letting myself get rolled around by the breakers 
until she called me to come out. 

She had on the robe again, and Ward was wearing his undershorts and had 
taken my towel to dry himself off, knotting it around his shoulders like a 
cape. 

"We're going to walk down the beach a ways," Marian said. "Come on with us. 
You shouldn't be swimming at night by yourself." 

A breeze hit my wet body, and I felt chilled. 

"Let me dry myself off first," I said. "Give me my towel, Ward." 

"It's kind of wet," he said. "Get a dry one up in the house. We'll walk slow 
so you can catch up to us." 

I bounded up the stairs, through the screen door, and into the living room 
to see Fran coming out of their bedroom completely naked. It seems funny for 
one nude person to be startled at the sight of another one, but that was my 
reaction. 

She saw my surprise. 

"I changed my mind," she said. "I'm just coming down to join you all." 

"We're out of the water now," I said. "We're going for a walk on the beach. 
I've come to get another towel." 

She hesitated a moment, and I realized she was looking at me, all of me, as 
though she had never seen me before. 

"I'll get you one," she said, disappearing into the bedroom again, and 
coming out almost immediately with a big heavy towel. She walked across to 
hand it to me, and stood there watching as I began to dry myself. 

I must have shivered a bit, either from the wet or as a nervous reaction. 

"Here," she said. "You look cold. Let me get your back for you." 

She took the towel from my hands and stood behind me, draping the absorbent 
cloth across my shoulders, spreading it out like a cloak and patting me 
through it. Her hands pressed warmly against my shoulder blades, along my 
sides, and around my hips and backside. The feeling was a very secure, 
protected one, with the least hint of sensuality in the near contact. 

She took the towel away from my body, and said, "Turn around, Bill." 

I pivoted to face her, and our eyes were fixed on each other as she rubbed 
the heavy material on my chest and down onto my stomach. I could feel her 
hesitate now, and I did not want her to stop. 

That feels very good, Fran," I said softly. 

She looked down, and a moment later she was shaping the folds of the towel 
to my sex organs, enclosing them with both hands, gently, affectionately. 
She held there just long enough for me to start to get hard, then, kneeling 
before me, went on drying my legs. 

Now, I was exposed to her, the partial erection just inches away from her 
face, throbbing indecisively. She was looking directly at it, and I saw her 
drop the big towel on the floor. She put the backs of her hands against the 
insides of my calves, and moved them slowly upward, brushing gently against 
the sensitive skin of my thighs. 

My cock thrust out at her as her hands neared it, and had swollen to nearly 
its full size by the time her fingers were riding along my balls and the 
tender areas of my groin. Her palms came against the shaft top and bottom, 
and she stood up again to face me, still trapping it between her hands. 

There were no words I could say to her to express the excitement I was 
feeling, so I reached out and took one of her breasts in each of my hands. 
They were smaller than Marian's, but tipped up more, and the nipples were 
larger and darker. I massaged the rosy tips until they rose up, then bent 
forward to suck on them alternately. 

"Shall we go into the bedroom?" Fran asked. 

"No," I answered. "If we are going to have sex, we'll have it here. I don't 
want to make it seem I am hiding it either from Marian or Ward." 

"Here, then," she said. "But, soon, Bill. I need it very soon." 

I put one hand down between her legs, and felt the lips of her cunt already 
swollen and moist. I used my fingers to stimulate them into greater 
receptivity, and felt her passion lurking there like an animal in a secret 
cave. Her legs moved apart in a wide, flat-footed stance. 

id this time, she was still holding my cock like some gift she did not know 
where to put away. I put my hands on the smooth curves of her buttocks, 
pulled her a bit toward me, and squatted into a bent-knee position to bring 
the head of my sex close to her crotch. 

"Guide it in," I said. 

She pushed down on the rigid shape, bringing the head of it between the open 
lips, and moved half a step closer to me to get above the shafted tool. I 
came up a little, and felt the first contact. It sent a jolt through me like 
hot lightning, and I rode all the way up into her smoothly. 

I saw her eyes close, and a soft, happy expression light her face. We fit 
together so well that the vibrant energy of her vagina was pouring into 
every nerve ending in my organ. 

"Oh, yes!" she breathed out at me, and I began to fuck, feeling the pleasure 
running down from her like something tangible to make the muscles of my legs 
into a continuous extension of my cock. Each stroke increased the marvelous 
feeling, making me want to accelerate my speed to match the urgency of her 
desire. 

The flaming inner walls of her sex seemed to tighten on me, drawing me back 
into her each time, faster and faster. Then, suddenly she was saying, "Yes! 
Yes! Yes!" over and over, and the unbelievable writhing began, making the 
sensations mount to an unbearable pitch. 

When I thought I could no longer stand the searing heat and pressure, I 
began to come; a pounding series of delirious jolts emptying what seemed to 
be an endless reservoir of lust. 

When I began to return to the here and now, I realized we were holding onto 
each other with all our strengths, keeping each other from falling. I 
withdrew from her, to stand up and hold her protectively, but with the 
passion fading fast. Her face was against my chest, and for a while I 
thought she might have fallen asleep she felt so completely relaxed. 

When she did move, she looked up at me, smiling. 

"Let's go for a swim now," she said. 

We were still in the water, fifteen or twenty minutes later, when Marian and 
Ward came back up the beach. They stripped again, and joined us for another 
round of playful cavorting, and then we all went up to the house again, and 
into our own bedrooms after an exchange of good nights and sleep wells. 

"I have something to tell you," I said to Marian, just as soon as our door 
was closed. "I had sex with Fran while you and Ward were out on the beach." 

She looked at me with an arch expression. 

"Was it good?" she asked. 

"Yes," I said. "Better than I could have suspected." 

"Why are you telling me, Bill?" she wanted to know. 

"Because I don't ever want anything hidden between us," I answered. "And, 
because I think it might happen again." 

"I hope so," Marian said. 

It took a moment for her remark to register on me. 

"You do? Why?" 

"Because I had sex with Ward down on the beach, and I think this might be a 
very good arrangement every once in a while." 

"I take it that you liked it, too," I said, and was conscious of the fact 
that this information made me jealous. I lay back on the bed, my hands 
behind my head, trying to sort my feelings. 

"Are you angry, Bill?" she asked, sitting down beside me. 

"I don't know," I said. "I shouldn't be, unless I expect you to be angry at 
me, too. I really don't know what I am thinking about it." 

Marian lay across the bed, putting her head on my chest. 

"It was bound to happen sometime," she said, "either because of an 
opportunity like this, or out of curiosity. I think we should both be glad 
we can be so open about it." 

"That's not the point," I said. "I wonder what it is going to do to us. How 
will it change our feelings for each other?" 

She didn't answer me, but started running her hand back and forth over my 
stomach. She knew every spot on my body, and how to stimulate them 
sensually. I didn't move, just allowed myself to respond to her 
ministrations. 

Moving her head, Marian let her mouth follow her hand, making sweet, sucking 
kisses where her fingers had touched. She has the ability to make me relax, 
and become aroused at the same time, and she is well aware of it. By the 
time she had put her hand onto my dick, it was stiffly erect again. 

She changed her position so that we were lying head to foot, fondling my sex 
in that very special loving way she has. 

"I love you, Bill," she said, and then started to run her tongue up and down 
the length of my cock, turning it to get at all sides. 

I felt the stirrings of response deep inside me, and I suppose I was glad 
for two reasons. The first that I enjoy sex so much, and I knew that this 
was going to be a good session. And the second, that Marian could so quickly 
and thoroughly set me off, even though I had had a satisfying encounter less 
than half an hour before. 

As she put my penis in her mouth and began to suck it in earnest, I sought 
out her vagina with my mouth, and was additionally fired up by tasting again 
her very special sweetness. My tongue is at home in her cunt. I knew. No 
matter who else we might let our passions loose on, we would have to return 
to each other for the ultimate in sensation and happiness. 

We had special signals even in a sixty-nine, to let each other know when the 
moment of release was approaching. And they worked better than ever that 
night, so that when her pulsing flow began, my jolting spurts of semen 
followed immediately, and we drank deep and blissfully till all of our needs 
had been filled, and fell into a dreamless sleep. 

* * * 

MARIAN: We've had trouble, Doctor. I suppose it was bound to come some time, 
but now that it has, I don't know how to handle it, or even react to it. 

I think Bill is in love with another woman. 

(Analyst: Has he said so?) 

No, but I read him so well, he really doesn't have to say it. I even think I 
know who it is. Fran Johnson. Her husband, Ward, used to work at the same 
agency Bill did when we first came to New York. 

(Analyst: Yes, he has mentioned them to me some time ago.) 

Did he also tell you they were the first couple we changed partners with? 
Well, he's more open in his sessions than I thought. 

The Johnsons were the ones who introduced us to most of the swingers we 
know. And, they are the one couple we have had sex with oftenest. It seemed 
to be convenient, and the more you make it with someone, the more you find 
out what they really like. 

Besides, I feel very safe and protected with Ward. He's a big, gruff kind of 
man, a few years older than I am, but amazingly gentle in bed. 

I'm getting away from the point, though. Last Friday, we all went out to 
dinner together, and then couldn't settle on a movie we all wanted to see. 
Finally, Ward and I chose one show, and Fran and Bill another. Since our 
movie was to start a bit later, and run nearly an hour longer, Bill and Fran 
were to meet us at a favorite bar, which was only a few blocks from the 
Johnson's East Side apartment. 

Well, neither of them were at the bar when we got there, and the place was 
ungodly crowded. So Ward suggested that he and I go to his place, since that 
is where the other two most likely had gone. 

Why we didn't telephone first, I don't know, but it was only a few minutes 
walk. Needless to say, they were not there, and Ward's suggestion was that 
we should wait, since, again, this was the most likely place they would come 
to or call. He thought perhaps when they had gotten to their movie house, 
there might have been a long line, and if so, they would miss the show they 
had planned to see, and would be delayed maybe another hour or so. 

He mixed a couple of drinks, and got himself comfortable, which is to say, 
he undressed except for his undershorts. I found that after a few minutes I 
was very nervous and upset, but by what, I couldn't identify. Ward called 
the bar and asked them to page Bill, which they seemed to do, but there was 
no response. 

While Ward was in the bathroom at one point, I dialed the numbers at our 
apartment and our office. Again, no response. 

We had run out of conversation, and were sitting on the sofa watching late 
television, when Ward said to me, "Marian, would you be in the mood?" I 
looked at him, seeing the bulge of his erection in the shorts. In spite of 
myself, I was turned on, but I had to be honest with him. 

"Not for fucking, Ward," I said. 

"Do you have any other suggestions?" he asked. 

"Would you like me to suck you off?" 

"I'd love it. You know that," he answered, and slipped the shorts off. 

I know Ward likes to be blown, almost as much as Bill does, and from what 
Bill tells me, Fran is not very good at it. I thought, what the hell, why am 
I being coy after all the times we've had each other, but I really had to 
force myself to go at it with the usual amount of fervor. In the back of my 
mind, I kept thinking, where the hell are Bill and Fran? No matter what they 
might be doing, they could give us a call. 

I sat on the floor in front of Ward, leaning back against one of his legs. 
He was all the way forward on the couch so that his testicles were hanging 
loose beyond the edge of the cushions. I took hold of them with one hand, 
and wrapped the other firmly around the shaft of his penis, squeezing it as 
he enjoyed, to make it extra hard. 

As always, that action made him respond with a sigh of pleasure, and a 
comment like, "You really know how to make a guy happy." 

Riding my hand loosely up and down the length of his cock, I leaned closer 
and started to tickle his balls with my tongue, feeling the answering throbs 
on the pulsing of his sex. Then, I took each of them into my mouth, applying 
a sucking pressure that I knew would really turn him loose. 

"Are you sure you don't want to fuck?" he asked again, when I had released 
his testicles. 

"No, not tonight, Ward." 

"Do you want me to eat you?" he pursued. "I'd love to, you know that, 
Marian." 

"If I was in the mood, I would have said yes even before you asked me," I 
told him. "Just relax and enjoy it, please." 

"I'm already enjoying it," he said, "and you've got me going too far to 
relax. I'll stop talking." 

I smiled at his manner, but then went back to the pleasurable work at 
hand... and at mouth. In some ways, I enjoy blowing Ward more than I do 
Bill. Maybe it's no more than familiarity with Bill's organ, and his 
reactions. More likely, it's because this is a comparatively new form of 
stimulation for Ward, and his response to it is a combination of extreme 
pleasure and gratitude. 

I pulled his swollen cock to me, and took as much of it into my mouth as I 
could, keeping my tongue moving over it with quick, stimulating strokes. My 
hand was tickling his balls, and I could feel part of his reaction in the 
tightening of the muscles of the leg I was sitting against. 

Suddenly, I wanted the sex to be over. It had nothing to do with Ward at 
all, but I had to know what had happened to Bill. My own excitement at what 
I was doing was completely negated by a picture which had come into my mind. 
It was a duplicate of the scene in which I was involved. A man sitting back, 
legs spread, on a sofa with a girl on the floor between them sucking on his 
penis. 

Only the man was Bill, and the girl was Fran, and a flood of jealousy 
overtook me. The emotion must have leant purpose to what I was doing. I 
began riding the length of Ward's prick with a new vigor and purpose, 
bestowing on it all the passion which had risen in me. 

I got up on my knees in order to be able to manipulate it more thoroughly, 
grasping his testicles more fervently, and running my other hand over his 
stomach and the curly hair around his sex. 

I heard him take in that sharp, warning breath, filling his big chest with 
air, as he always did just before he came. I went all the way down on him, 
and the semen started to pulse out, while he kept saying, over and over 
again, "Gee, that's great! Gee, that's terrific, Marian! Boy, that's out of 
this world!" 

I moved away from him, much before I normally would have, but he was still 
in an ecstasy of relief. 

"You're really the greatest, Marian," he said, "but I guess you know I think 
that. I'm so glad I know you." 

I stood up, smiling at him; but I'm afraid it was a bit forced. 

"Are you sure I can't get you off some way?" he asked once more. "I'll do 
anything to make you feel good." 

"I'm sure, Ward," I said. "I also think maybe I should take a cab and get 
home. Whatever happened to Fran and Bill, there's no sense of my waiting 
here. I'm kind of tired, anyway." 

He put on his shorts again. 

"Maybe we ought to go back to the bar," he started to suggest, and just then 
the door to the apartment opened , and Bill and Fran came in. 

"Where have you been?" I asked, "I was starting to get worried about you." 

"I was just about to ask you two the same question," Bill said, looking at 
Ward in his underwear, "but I guess I can see the answer." 

"Why weren't you where you said you would be?" I insisted. 

"We were," Bill said. "We have been there, for nearly two hours." 

"We couldn't find you." I said. 

"That's right," Ward said. "We got there about an hour and a half ago, and 
looked all around the place. It was so jammed, we thought you might have 
come up here instead." 

"We were at the bar," Bill insisted, "having a drink and talking. We must 
have missed each other. But, at least you two weren't wasting time," he 
added with a smile. 

"I want you to fuck me, Bill," I said abruptly, and they all stared at me. 

"What?" Bill looked shocked. 

"I said, I want you to fuck me." 

"Well, I'll be damned," Bill said. "You really are something, even in this 
crowd." 

"Are you going to do it?" I wanted to know. 

He shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, I will. Just as soon as we get home." 

"No," I insisted, "I want you to do it right now. Here." I pulled my dress 
up. I never wear panties when we go out. "With Ward and Fran watching." He 
suddenly realized what I was saying, and why. His smile faded. 

"We're among friends," I goaded. 

Bill removed his jacket, and tossed it on the sofa, unzipped his fly and 
brought his cock and balls out. Without taking his eyes from me, he came 
across the room, pushed me back against the arm of a chair, and said, "All 
right Marian. Make it hard for me, and I'll fuck you standing right here." 

"I don't usually have to make it hard for you," I said. "I thought just the 
sight of my cunt would be enough to excite you." I still was holding the 
dress up, exposing myself. 

He half turned away. 

"Fran," he said in a conversational tone, "would you help me get a hard-on, 
please." 

She glanced at her husband, then answered, "Yes, Bill." She came over to 
him, and started fondling his organ, concentrating on the sensitive head of 
it. Within a minute or so it was rigidly erect. 

Bill faced me again. 

"Do you want to guide it in?" he asked, "or should I?" 

I took hold of it, braced myself against the upholstered chair arm, and drew 
him toward me. Could he have had sex in the last hour, I wondered, and still 
manage such a thoroughly stiff hard-on? Or, was it his response to Fran's 
touch? 

As I felt the smooth head of it move between the lips of my vagina. I knew 
that I was not excited enough yet, to be fully lubricated for him. This was 
the first time I had ever attempted to have intercourse with out the loving 
preparation which would start the juices flowing inside of me. But, I dared 
not say that I had changed my mind. The look in my cousin's eyes assured me 
that I was going to get fucked. 

He drove the whole thing into me with a single thrust of his hips and legs. 
I had to clamp my mouth tight shut not to cry out. 

He grabbed the arm of the chair on either side of my legs, and said. "Let's 
make it, baby!" A second later, he had started, riding that shaft in and out 
of me in a way I could not have pictured if I were not living it. 

It was pure lust, but without the sensuality; a rape based not on physical 
need, but on anger. Up till that night, I thought I knew everything there 
was to know about Bill, but this was beyond even the most extreme boundaries 
of the man. 

Each stroke of that piston was a combination of pain and excitement. His 
cock had become an enormous bullet searing the walls of the rifle barrel 
through which it was being propelled endlessly. The tempo at which he began 
was already that of imminent ejaculation, and it was increasing moment by 
moment. 

And, no matter how I tried to adjust to this attack I had demanded, I could 
not force the walls of my vagina to produce any of the normal protective 
flow of lubrication. 

It must have been hurting him, too, I thought, like running his cock against 
sandpaper. But he did not stop. 

I don't even know when Fran and Ward went into their bedroom. The 
combination heaven and hell I was living through was totally encompassing, 
blotting out everything except that fantastic sex machine of Bill's drilling 
in and out of me. 

And then my orgasm struck, as though everything inside my body was trying to 
push his penis out. There was no pleasure in it, or release; but just a 
tremendous draining of my will. 

Bill seemed to take no notice of it, although on most occasions my release 
would trigger his. I wanted to push him away from me, but even if I had 
dared, I would not have had the strength to do it. 

His fucking was becoming a blur of motion; an insane runaway desire which 
seemed to have no end. In a moment, I would faint, or maybe die, and he 
would still be going at it without mercy or surcease. 

He came! A wordless cry came from him. Several more explosive shells of sex 
crashed within me. More! And still more! His face was contorted into a 
stranger's mask. 

Even before he had fully spent himself, he pulled himself out of me almost 
viciously, shoving the wet, still-rigid organ back into his pants, As he 
closed the fly, he looked down at my exposed sex. 

"Pull your dress down, Marian," he said, "and let's go home." 

As I said, Doctor, that was last Friday. There hasn't been one word said 
about it since. But, he doesn't have to say anything. I know. 

(Analyst: Have you two had sex since then?) 

Yes, but it is just sex, without the excitement or the affection. 

(Analyst: Do you think he's had sex with Fran again since that night?) 

No. We haven't been apart from each other long enough for him to have done 
it. I don't care if he fucks Fran. Or, any of the others we swing with. I 
just don't want him to be in love with any of them. Without him I have no 
one. 

* * * 

BILL: I've fallen in love, Doctor. All these years with Marian, I thought I 
knew what love really was. But I was wrong. 

It's not that I feel any different about Marian, but she is no longer the 
most important person in my life. It's Fran Johnson. I've told you all about 
Fran and Ward? 

(Analyst: Yes, Bill, and Marian has told me her version of what happened 
Friday night.) 

Oh, good. That will simplify things. Well, Fran and I went to the movie, one 
of those sex films from Sweden, and it was pretty horny. About halfway 
through it there was a scene which turned us both on, and Fran slipped her 
hand down onto my lap, and was fondling my cock through my pants. 

Suddenly, it seemed a better idea to be doing what was on the screen rather 
than watching it, so I suggested we leave. We grabbed a cab to my 
office-apartment, and without any preliminaries we stripped out of our 
clothes. 

One thing about the sex between Fran and me that is different than when I 
make it with Marian is that Fran always lets me decide what the action will 
be and what variations or positions we will try. She feels that is a man's 
prerogative. 

We were sitting on the couch, kissing, feeling each other up, and getting 
each other thoroughly aroused. She responds terrifically to having her 
clitoris stimulated, either by hand or mouth, and within minutes she was 
wildly excited, moaning and writhing, and asking me to put my dick into her. 

I got her to stand up, with her back to me, and slid forward on the couch 
till my ass was right at the edge of it, between her spread legs, with my 
cock pointing right up at her. Then with my hands on her hips, I lowered her 
to me, and her cunt slid right down onto me. 

This position has several wonderful advantages. First, you can get further 
into a vagina this way than in almost any other way I've ever tried. 
Secondly, with my hands around her, I can continue to massage her clitoris 
while we're fucking, as well as play with her nipples. And, thirdly, she can 
get at my balls, which helps make a better time for me, too. 

And, it lets her contribute different kinds of motions which can set both of 
us right off into orbit. 

It worked beautifully Friday night. We'd get the fucking going at a fast 
tempo for a while, then ease off, and let the muscles inside her vagina take 
over; or sit motionless while I rubbed that responsive button at the top of 
her cunt till she was begging for sweet mercy. 

Fran had one orgasm so intense she almost lifted up away from me. But, I 
pulled her ass down against my stomach again and kept right on plunging in 
and out of her until I felt her second one starting, and then let my load go 
off like a whole year's worth of skyrockets. 

As always, we stayed with my cock in her till the glow had faded away, but 
then she did something she had never done before. When she got up from me, 
she sat down on the couch again, and started kissing me. This time it was 
not in passion at all, but all affection. 

After a while, she stopped, and looked at me. 

"I loved the sex," she said. "You make things happen to me that way that are 
different from anything or anyone else, Bill. But, it has something wrong to 
it." 

"What?" I asked. 

"It means I can't kiss you while we're doing it," she said, "and I think I 
would rather kiss you that do anything else with you. I probably shouldn't 
say this, but I'm in love with you, Bill." 

I was thunderstruck. Not by her words, but by the answering emotions in me. 
We kissed again, and continued to kiss for a long, long time. 

Then we started to talk, and that's when I knew how I felt, and what I 
wanted to do about it; because she suddenly said to me, "Oh, God, I wish you 
weren't married. Then, I could be your wife." 

"You mean," I asked, "that you would divorce Ward to marry me? " 

"I don't have to divorce Ward," she answered. "He and I are not married." 

"You have just been living together?" 

She nodded. "Yes. Ever since our parents died in an airplane crash." 

"You mean your parents and his were traveling together when it happened?" 

"No. I said our parents," Fran answered. "Ward and I are brother and sister, 
Bill. I had to tell you. I want you to know everything about me before this 
relationship goes any further." 

Can you imagine that, Doctor? Here Marian and I have been living together, 
first cousins, all this time, and it never occurred to me that there might 
be other couples who were closely related. To my way of thinking, this makes 
the whole situation perfect. There is nothing to stop me from marrying Fran. 
Except Marian. 

I love her, of course. I always have, and always will. But not in the way I 
love Fran. And, I have never been really comfortable about our agreement. 
But, how do I tell her? How can I straighten out my life without ruining 
hers? 

* * * 

SUMMARY: The solution for Bill was, of course, also the solution for Marian, 
too. The only difference between them was that Bill had understood his 
change in feelings, and Marian had not. She, too, had fallen "out of love" 
with Bill, but felt she had to continue with him to protect his feelings. 
And, the answer for her was right at hand, too. Once Bill and Fran had 
announced their intentions to Marian and Ward, it was Ward who asked Marian 
to consider marrying him. The first marriage has already taken place. The 
second one is now in the planning stages, and the closeness between the pair 
of cousins and the brother and sister should resolve itself into a lifetime 
of love and understanding for all four of them. 

CASE SIX - JOANNA 

Joanna C. is the kind of woman even the most well-adjusted and experienced 
psychologist must call fantastic. She is breathtakingly beautiful, 
exceptionally cultured, world-traveled, and as thoroughly experienced with 
people at 37 than most human beings could accomplish in several lifetimes. 

Part of her background is a mystery to me. Although I know she was born in 
California, the oldest child of a professional Army man, I have elicited no 
details of her life between her birth and her eighteenth year, when she left 
home, or at least separated herself from her family. 

Her siblings include two sisters and two brothers; Albert aged 34, Terry 30, 
Wayne 26 and Diane 22. The two oldest ones are married; Wayne is single, and 
all three of these live in different cities in the United States. Diane 
still lives with her parents just outside of Washington, D.C. The reason for 
giving these facts will become evident as you read Joanna's story. 

I would like to add one comment to this background. Although every patient 
is in some way a challenge to the doctor's knowledge and understanding, 
every once in a while, one comes along that seems to defy not only the 
doctor's efforts at therapy, but even some of the basic rules of human 
psychological cause and effect. Joanna seems to be the idea of the totally 
amoral person; one who can interact with all kinds of individuals and 
situations, but comes out of them apparently unaffected. 

You might keep this strange possibility in mind as you read what she had to 
tell me. 

The idea came out of a conversation we were having at the end of a nightlong 
party in Paris. I think there were seven who had stayed to enjoy themselves 
as only people can when they are truly sexually emancipated. 

What we had done only concerns you as an example of the sort of life I have 
led since I went out on my own at eighteen. As I recall, there were four men 
and three women, ranging in age from one very mature Italian teenaged boy to 
a married couple who are well in their sixties. 

All of them, like so many people I have known, are quite uninhibited. They 
know that the greatest pleasure one can have is to give the greatest 
pleasure to others. There is no part of the human body, male or female, 
which cannot serve this purpose, and certainly no area to which contact 
should not be made with one's fingers or mouth. 

Orgasm, of course, is neither an aim nor an ending. During one period of the 
evening, the Italian boy, who was naturally a comparative newcomer to this 
type of open promiscuity was in me for somewhere near an hour. I am not 
avoiding the word, Doctor. He was not fucking me all that time, although he 
did part of it. He was in my vagina, and motionless as he could be 
considering the fact that he brought the third girl through three climaxes 
by sucking her cunt, and had his testicles and anus thoroughly tongued as 
part of a chain of sex. 

When he did start fucking me, he came twice in about ten minutes, and twice 
again in the next half hour by having his cock sucked. 

But, I am getting away from the important thing. We were all relaxed, happy 
and talking about the world of sexual experience; comparing notes in a way. 
One of the men was talking about being seduced by an older sister, and I had 
asked him what his feelings had been in this particular instance. 

"You have brothers, don't you, Joanna?" he asked. 

"Yes, two of them," I answered, "though I haven't seen them since I was 
eighteen." 

"Then, you never had sex with either of them?" he wanted to know. 

"No," I said. "All of the sex I had before I left home was with men 
stationed on the Army base where we lived. I suppose the youngest was 
eighteen, and I really have no idea how old some of the officers were. 
Albert was only fifteen the last time I saw him, and I don't think I was 
interested enough to find out how he might have responded to a sexual 
advance." 

"I thought you would have had the greatest variety of experience," the older 
man said. "My husband and I have commented on your sexual freedom ever since 
we met you. We were sure there were absolutely no gaps in your catalogue. 
You really must do something about it." 

"Yes, Joanna," her husband said. "You are our ideal, our goddess of sex. 
Don't let us down. Make plans to erase this imperfection." 

We laughed about it, of course, and went on to other subjects. But, I 
remember thinking later that morning, while sucking the Italian boy's cock 
again, how would it have been to do this to Albert Was my brother as 
passionate and as responsive as this? Would he tell me after spurting his 
semen into me that this was the most wonderful night of his life, and I was 
the most beautiful person he ever expected to know? 

I continued thinking about it for days, and found that the subject was 
becoming a cloud on the happiness of my life. I found myself rereading the 
letters I had received from all the members of my family over the past few 
years. Out of sight was not out of mind with them, or with me. Although my 
life was as diverse and distant from theirs as a wandering comet is from all 
the planets of the solar system, we had never lost touch. 

To a large extent, I knew their individual hopes and accomplishments, their 
interests and their day-to-day activities. But, between the lines of their 
letters, I found something else. People can reveal so much they don't intend 
when they write openly. Weaknesses, fears, hidden desires. 

Because I was so far away from them, both in distance and in way of life, I 
realized that they saw me not so much as a member of the family, but as a 
sort of figurehead; a voice of worldly wisdom. That fact, Doctor, led me to 
devise my plan. 

Neither money nor time are limitations on me any more. I can buy anything I 
want in material things, and I am beholden to no one, except those I choose 
to be with. I think you would be most interested, Doctor, in the purely 
psychological side of my planning. But, that part we can discuss after you 
know the facts. Let me say, merely, that I had to be sure that the order in 
which I made these contacts was of prime importance. 

I had to be positive that after each encounter, the particular brother or 
sister with whom I had slept would not tell any other member of the family 
what had happened. And, since there were some details of character I was not 
sure of, in several cases, I was going to depend on another of the four to 
give me the facts I needed to proceed. 

Of course, I had an advantage over each of them which could really be 
classified as unfair. Sex, in my mind, is totally divorced from such 
emotions as love and affection. I could be as purposeful about attaining my 
goals with each of my brothers and sisters as I could in a casual, one-time 
alliance, and be quite untouched by the experience after it was over. 

(Analyst': Then, Joanna, may I ask why you are here talking this out with a 
psychologist? I assumed there had been some problem connected with these 
events.) 

I will tell you that reason after I have completed my story. 

The first one was to be Diane. She was just out of college, had come through 
an unhappy love affair, and was thoroughly bored by living at home and 
seeing the same faces again and again in Washington. I invited her to come 
to New York to meet me when I arrived from Paris, and spend a few days as my 
guest in the big city. 

Diane probably looks a lot like me when I was her age, but more on the 
outdoors type. Like most of the youngsters today, she indulges in a lot of 
sports which keeps her body in excellent condition. The modern clothes are 
designed for figures like hers. 

We went shopping, and I bought some things she liked. Dining and the theater 
were not new to her, but she enjoyed them with the vigor of youth. By the 
fourth night, I knew she was beginning to wish she had some male 
companionship. A couple of nice looking fellows got talking to us during the 
intermission of the play we were seeing, and I watched the expressions on 
her face when they made no move to ask if she would be free after the show, 
or the next day. 

By the time we got back to the hotel, she was quite silent. Not brooding, 
you understand, but deep in a reverie. I waited until we were in our 
nightgowns before I questioned it. 

"Is something wrong, Diane?" I asked. "You've been so quiet." 

"I was thinking about someone," she said. 

"That boy at college? What was his name?" 

"Harvey," she answered. "Yes, that's who it was. I had forgotten I wrote to 
you about him." 

"You've never heard from him since graduation?" 

"No, Joanna." She sighed. "If I was smart, I would write to him, or even 
call him long distance, and tell him he can have me on any terms he wants." 

"I don't understand exactly what you mean?" I said to her. She was about to 
clear up a bit of information I had only guessed at. 

"I suppose once you go to bed with a man, you have to keep doing it whenever 
he wants." 

"Not necessarily," I said. "Is that why Harvey stopped seeing you? You 
refused to sleep with him?" 

"No, I refused to have sex with him and another girl together," she burst it 
out, and I could see she was on the verge of tears. I held my tongue, 
because I felt she would say much more in a moment when she had gathered her 
emotions. She sighed deeply, and went on, "I have to tell you, Joanna. 
Harvey feels I'm too romantic about sex, and too inexperienced. He likes to 
do more than just have normal intercourse, and he says that a man and two 
women can turn on ten times as much as just two people together." 

"He was telling you the truth," I said. 

"I didn't doubt him," she said. "It's just that I didn't want to share him 
with anyone. And, I trapped myself with a silly lie trying to show him that 
I was as experienced as he was. I told him I had tried it a couple of times, 
and that I didn't care for it." 

"Why did you say that, Diane?" I asked. "Because I had never had sex with 
another girl, and I was afraid I wouldn't know what to do. It would spoil 
everything between us. But, it's no better this way, either. I've lost him 
both ways." She started to cry softly, and I went over to where she was 
sitting on her bed, put a protective arm around her and drew her head down 
on my shoulder. Letting her cry herself out, I began to rub her arm with the 
tips of my fingers, knowing it would both comfort her and begin to arouse 
her once the tears had stopped. 

I put my other hand protectively on her thigh, just letting the warmth and 
pressure of it make itself known to her. After she had been quiet for a few 
minutes, I felt her press herself a bit closer to me, and without saying 
anything, I drew both of us back till we were lying side by side on the bed. 

She was looking up at the ceiling, avoiding seeing me, but I could see the 
heightened upthrust of her nipples through the gauzy material of the 
nightgown. I kissed her once on the cheek, then pressed my mouth against the 
side of her neck. I could feel the rapid pulse there, and ran my tongue on 
the tender area. Diane shivered. 

"See how easy it can be," I whispered. 

She turned facing me, and our mouths came together in a flood of passion, 
twisting against each other, tonguing deep. 

When we broke apart, she said, gaspingly, "Show me how, Joanna. Make me do 
everything." 

"Take off your nightgown," I said, and as she did, I got out of mine. Then, 
when she was nude, I took her lovely young breasts in my hands, kneaded them 
firmly and brought the pink nipples up straight and hard. 

"Oh, Joanna," she moaned. I put my lips over one of the nipples, sucking it 
and flicking my tongue rapidly over its extended surfaces. I felt her whole 
body responding to this contact, and quickly ran one hand down across her 
stomach and crotch to seek out the tiny swelling bud of her clitoris. I 
pressed hard, then took it between my thumb and forefinger, rubbing it till 
I heard her gasp. 

I turned to lie next to her in the sixty-nine position, and without any 
delay, pressed my mouth against the lips of her vagina. She stifled a little 
scream of pleasure, and at last reached out to return the stimulating 
contact to me. 

Her hand began to massage my pubic area at an ever-increasing tempo, and 
then, as my tongue sought entrance between the lips of her sex, she thrust a 
finger into mine. A thrill of delight moved through me, not only because of 
the sexual manipulation, but through the sense of conquest this encounter 
was affording me. I can't really explain to you how wonderful I felt knowing 
that I was sucking my sister's cunt. 

My reaction was to make my tongue plunge faster and deeper into that 
receptive opening, pausing only to catch the rigid knob of the clitoris 
between my lips. 

The, Diane was down on me, imitating my motions, following my instructions 
with the sublime intensity of a passionate novice. Although sex can be an 
art, it is also a natural talent, and it was no surprise to me that my baby 
sister had this talent with as much promise of its development as I had 
made. 

Once she had started the complete sixty-nine, I let my sexual responses 
unleash, and both our hungers were translated into a fantastic chain of 
surging, mounting feeling which gathered momentum to a magnificent plateau 
of pure sensation. 

It was too good to last, but it continued even through the multiple orgasms 
which followed. It was like riding that part of a roller-coaster where one 
hill follows another, and each sudden descent leads on to another fast rise; 
then again, and again, till all knowledge of the real world is blotted out, 
and the breathtaking journey seems as if it will go on forever. 

I remember coming back to my conscious self, my arms wrapped around her, and 
hearing her say, "Thank you, Joanna. Thank you so much." 

* * * 

My younger brother, Wayne, lives in Baltimore, and works for a big aircraft 
plant there. He had responded to my letters with an invitation to stay at 
his apartment, saying it would be no trouble, and the temptation was to 
accept. But, I decided against it because it would be too limiting for me. 

Although I was planning on having sex with him, this did not mean that I 
would be passing up any other opportunities which might present themselves. 
So I booked a suite at one of the downtown hotels, and called him the 
evening I arrived. He was waiting to hear from me, and came to meet me 
immediately. 

Technically, this handsome twenty-six-year-old man was a complete stranger 
when he walked in the door of my hotel living room. But, he was the kind of 
stranger I am used to meeting all over the world, and getting to know easily 
and intimately. 

There was a touch of militarily-correct carriage and manners about him. My 
father's influence, no doubt. Wayne had a good engineering education, and 
has that neat, clean-cut look which makes you think of drawing boards, 
precise plans and brightly lighted rooms. 

He is tall and slim, and the smile that greeted me is the kind that can 
knock someone down at twenty paces. 

He gave me a very brotherly kiss, then looked me over with frank interest. 

"You mean," he said, "I've always had a sister who looks like this and 
didn't know it?" 

"Thank you, Wayne," I said, "that's even more of a compliment coming from a 
handsome man. If I had known what you looked like, I would have made a visit 
back to the States much before this." 

"I just hope none of the girls I go with see us out together while you're 
here, Joanna," he said. "They'd be so jealous, they would probably never go 
out with me again." 

"All you have to do is tell them I'm your sister," I suggested. 

"So what?" He smiled a very knowing smile. "They know me well enough to know 
that wouldn't really make any difference. A beautiful woman is a beautiful 
woman, no matter what the birth certificates might say." 

I must have looked surprised. It was only that I didn't know whether he was 
kidding, or if he was taking the lead in this planned seduction. He 
misunderstood my reaction. 

"I'm sorry, Joanna," he said, contritely. "I didn't mean to be insulting." 

"That wasn't an insult, Wayne," I told him. "I would only be insulted if you 
meant it merely to flatter me, and would have no intention of following 
through." 

The air in the room became vibrant with tension. 

I had thrown a challenge at him, and it was a situation he was not used to 
with women. I knew this from his letters and I had read his personality 
perfectly. 

He came over close to me. 

"Let's start all over again," he said. "I've just come through the door." 

He gathered me in his arms, and the kiss he gave me was an unabashed 
invitation to sexuality. He has a wonderfully strong mouth, and I could 
sense the total virility in him through the demanding entry he made between 
my lips. 

The power of the excitement he started there was so strong that I was not 
aware he had unzipped the back of my dress until I felt his hands pulling it 
off my shoulders. He was working even faster than I suspected, because my 
brassiere had been unhooked at the same time, and in a moment I was standing 
there nude except for the brief panties I wore. 

I put my hands under his jacket and pulled myself close up against him. The 
kiss continued while his hands explored my back. 

He broke apart from me abruptly. 

"If you ever tell any of the family about this," he said, "I'll kill you." 

The intensity of the look on that handsome face left no doubt in my mind he 
meant every word of it. He could not know how reassuring that statement was; 
the one thing I had been counting on. 

"Are you going to fuck me?" was the only answer I gave him, and his smile 
returned. 

He got out of his clothes quickly, and with the same careful neatness which 
was such a part of him, folding each garment and placing them precisely on 
one of the chairs. While I watched him, I picked up my dress and bra, lay 
them over the couch, and slipped off the rest of what I was wearing. 

Surprisingly, he had almost no erection. It occurred to me later that, like 
myself, Wayne only becomes aroused through actual physical contact. He led 
the way into the bedroom, and viewed the turned down bedcovers with a raised 
eyebrow. 

"Were you expecting someone?" he asked. 

"You," I answered with a smile. 

He made a motion toward the bed, and I obeyed it by lying down stretched out 
full length. 

He knelt beside me, and our mouths met again, but only briefly this time. 
Making tiny sucking kisses, he began to move down my entire body, searching 
out nerve endings and patches of sensation wherever he could find them. He 
stayed at no one place very long, just until he felt a quivering reaction 
from me, or a small sound I could not hold back. He was really quite 
brilliant at this technique, making my breasts feel larger, my skin 
smoother, my legs longer than ever before. And when he kissed his way up the 
insides of my thighs, it was as if my vagina was reaching out to meet his 
mouth. 

He kissed those lips just as expertly as any other part of my body, but just 
as briefly. For as soon as he was aware of the readiness waiting there for 
him, he got up on the bed, and opened my legs to receive him. 

Now, I could see his erection; a long, very straight shaft, aiming directly 
at me. He lifted my hips, and his cock was in me all the way. He lowered 
himself so that our bodies were in full contact, and sought out my mouth 
again, for another long kiss. 

His lips started their exciting motion, and he introduced me to another 
inventive technique. No two strokes were of the same length, or at the same 
rate of motion. It was as if his fucking was controlled by a series of 
responses to a computer programmed never to deliver the same pattern twice. 
Every reaction inside me was as unplanned and spontaneous as he could 
devise. I did not know how far his cock would penetrate, or when. I found my 
excitement rising at a rate which would bring me to a first orgasm much more 
quickly than was my usual experience. 

Apparently, Wayne could sense the gathering of my forces, because he said to 
me, "Tell me when you want me to come, Joanna." 

I had no intention of ending this fantastic experience with a single orgasm, 
but I found my plans abruptly changed. Wayne suddenly rolled us both over, 
raising his knees at the same time, so that I was kneeling on top of him. 
The reversed position made it possible for him to push that saber of a cock 
further into me, and to give greater variety to the total motion by moving 
my hips from side to side, and forward and back. 

Like a great silent screaming, my orgasm came upon me, and before I knew 
what my total reaction was, I was shouting hoarsely, "Come, Wayne! Come in 
me now!" 

He arched up from the bed, and it seemed as if his cock had gotten bigger 
inside of me. I could feel the rapid jetting of his semen even through the 
volcanic fire of my own release. His body lowered like a steel spring, slow 
and strong, and we fell asleep without moving again. 

When I awoke, Wayne was gone. There was a note on the dresser. It read 
simply. "Let's not spoil a good thing. Give my regards to the rest of the 
family-" The next stage of my trip seemed to start out as a total disaster. 
I was to go to Chicago to meet my sister, Terry. But, she phoned me in 
Baltimore, and asked me to make it in Kansas City instead, where Albert 
lived. 

This could throw a monkey wrench into the rest of my plans, and I felt like 
telling them not to try to make things easier for me, by making them more 
difficult. But Terry is a very strong-willed person. Once she had made up 
her mind, there was nothing for me to do, but to go to Kansas City, and pray 
for the best, It turned out that I didn't have to rely on prayer at all. 

Terry had arranged for adjoining rooms at the hotel with a connecting bath. 
It was not the kind of privacy accommodations I prefer, and I began to feel 
as though I had become trapped by my own cleverness. Somehow, I must have 
misread their characters through the letters they had written me. I had seen 
Albert as a sensual man tied to a rather cold wife; and Terry as a dominant 
woman who would be quite open to sexual overtures from another female. 

The first evening turned out to be most uncomfortable for everyone. We had 
dinner at Albert's home, and it was a noisy, middle-class hodge-podge. 
Albert's wife was exactly as I pictured her, righteous, proper, and with a 
smile frozen on her face. 

I couldn't imagine how this good-looking man had picked her out, and the 
fact that they had only one child made me believe that he had fucked her 
once, and then given it up as a bad deal. 

His wife was not only obvious in her distaste for me, and my fancy European 
ways, but quite clearly disliked her sister-in-law, Terry, too. The only 
real warmth I could see was between Terry and Albert. 

By the time Albert was driving us back to our hotel, I was convinced my 
mission had failed. It wasn't even ten o'clock, but Albert said he had to 
get up quite early the next morning, and Terry was pleading a headache from 
her flight down and all the excitement of the meeting. 

So, my sister and I said goodnight as soon as we reached our floor, and went 
into our separate bedrooms. I decided there was nothing better to do than go 
to sleep, too, and I was in bed in fifteen minutes. 

But, being in bed alone, for me, is not conducive to sleep. I was still 
lying there half an hour later, thinking maybe I should get dressed again, 
go downstairs and maybe run into some interesting company for the evening. 

I got up from the bed, and went to the bathroom which adjoined my room and 
Terry's. I was trying to find the light switch, when I heard voices coming 
from Terry's room. At first, I thought she might be talking on the phone, 
but even in that muffled state, one of the voices was male. 

I moved close to the door to her room, and listened carefully. The talk was 
soft, almost murmuring. The words were not distinguishable, but there is a 
certain quality one can catch in the way words are spoken which tell a lot 
about what is being said. Even listening to foreign languages, you can pick 
out emotions and situations although none of the words has any meaning to 
you. 

The sounds I was hearing were that of people involved in sex. I knew it 
immediately and surely, and I was almost shocked. My sister, Terry, I 
thought, has found herself a bed partner, while I had gone to bed alone. 

Of course, I had to find out what he looked like, and resorted to the oldest 
bit of spying. I looked through the keyhole of the door to her room. It was 
one of those old-fashioned kind, but it told me almost nothing, except that 
there were naked bodies on her bed. The area I could see showed mostly the 
side of the bed, with just a bit of a view at the edge of the mattress. I 
had no idea what they were doing. I only saw intermittent bits of bare 
flesh, and heard soft sounds that spoke of sexual passion. 

You know, Doctor, sometimes the most obvious things are those that we never 
see, or think about. And in the next couple of minutes in that Kansas City 
hotel, I came upon facts and information which I should have known long 
before I left Paris on my mission. 

It was another kind of obvious fact which finally revealed to me the 
information I was trying to elicit by peeking through the keyhole. When I 
realized I would not be able to see anything identifiable, I stood up, and 
tried the door handle. 

It was unlocked! 

I no longer had any desire to be secretive or coy, and I simply pulled the 
door wide open. This is the picture I saw. 

Terry was lying on the bed, her head propped up on several pillows. Kneeling 
astride her shoulders was the man I had heard talking. Neither of them had 
on a stitch of clothes. My sister was in the process of giving his an expert 
blow job, sucking in and out on his massive penis. He, in turn, was 
massaging her breasts with an intensity which spoke of long familiarity. 
They were both so thoroughly engrossed in what they were doing, that neither 
of them noticed me until I spoke. 

"If this is a family affair," I said, "you'll have to let me join in." 

The man was, of course, my brother Albert. 

The action on the bed stopped, and they both looked at me, their shock 
already tempered by what I had said. 

"I forgot to lock the bathroom door," Terry said. 

"No, you didn't forget," Albert told her. "You locked it, but I opened it." 

"Why?" I asked. 

He got up from the bed and came over to me, his organ pointing up at me. 

"I had a very strong feeling that you might be interested in joining in. 
I've seen a lot of women in my life, Joanna, but you are one of the most 
clearly sensual people I have ever met." He put a hand on one of my breasts. 
"I have been wanting to do that ever since I was about twelve or thirteen 
years old. I remember you very well, and you were just as sexy as a teenager 
as you are now." 

I looked over toward Terry. 

"When did this affair start?" I asked. 

She smiled. "Only about a year or so after you left home. I guess no one 
stays a virgin very long around Army posts." 

"Not in our family, anyway," I said. 

Albert reached down and lifted my gown up over my head. 

"Let's start finding out about each other in bed," he said. "I can only stay 
a couple of hours, tonight, but you'll both be here in Kansas City for a 
long stay, I hope." 

I went over to the bed, and they stretched me out full length and told me to 
relax. 

"Let us show you how the Midwesterners do it," Albert said, "and then you 
can demonstrate some of your foreign techniques." 

He immediately began to fondle my breasts, rubbing the nipples into hard 
shafts, and taking them into his mouth from time to time. 

Terry, in the meantime, stretched out beside me, head to foot, and began to 
play with my cunt, making my clitoris feel as though it was several times 
its normal size. 

Albert continued to stimulate my nipples, and put his mouth onto mine, 
reaching deep inside with his tongue to cause a marvelous tingling from one 
end of my body to the other. I reached out to take hold of his penis, 
sliding my hand over its smooth, hard surface, helping him to become even 
more excited, and feeling his passion returned to me through his hands and 
his mouth. 

By this time, Terry had gone down on me, sucking hard at the opening of my 
vagina, rubbing her lips over it, and tonguing into it as far as she could. 

I saw the lips of her sex open and moist beside me, and I twisted away from 
Albert's kiss, to put my mouth on my sister's cunt. There is a kind of 
electricity in any sixty-nine which strips away all abandon, and for a few 
minutes, Terry and I sucked at each other's cores with an unbelievable depth 
of passion. 

I was aware that Albert was trying to pay equal attention to all four of the 
breasts now available to him. Then he got up and moved around to the other 
side of the bed, pushed my mouth away from Terry, and kneeling beside me, 
went to work on her in my place. I could see his tongue flicking into her, 
probing much deeper than I could do, making her start to writhe in greater 
pleasure. 

His enormous cock was right there for me, and getting up on one elbow, I 
maneuvered the head of it into my mouth. 

I have gone down on a lot of men in my life, Doctor, but this was the first 
time I had ever had the opportunity to do it to a member of my own family, 
and somehow the knowledge that this was my brother made the contact all the 
more exciting. 

The size of it was a challenge to me, too, and it was one I was more than 
willing to take. I worked on it slowly, drawing more and more of it into my 
mouth, adjusting myself to it with loving intensity. I fondled his heavy 
testicles and felt his response through the throbbing of his organ. 

"I want to get into you, Joanna," I heard him say. "I want to give you my 
first load." 

We all separated, and changed positions again. I was on my back with my legs 
spread and knees up. Terry was kneeling over me, her crotch directly above 
my face. And, Albert was between my legs, already maneuvering his cock down 
to my vulva. 

He put it into me slowly, being careful, I could tell, to make sure I could 
adjust to the size of it. As he rode it in, I could see the smile on his 
face when he realized I would have no problem in taking it. 

Each of them took hold of one of my breasts, and the different methods they 
were using made a variety of new sensations spin through me. I saw their 
mouths come together in a passionate kiss, and a new circuit of arousal had 
been completed as I put my mouth to her vagina again. In this position, it 
was even more open, and I was making a deeper penetration with my tongue. 

Albert started the diving movement, very slowly at first, letting his cock 
find every reactive place along my inner passage. A kind of brilliant 
tingling began to come over me, and I remember wondering what it might be 
like to have the opportunity to extend this chain of delight to include 
Diane and Wayne. There was really no reason why all five of us could not 
look forward to enjoying each other as a group, as well as by two's and 
three's. 

When Albert shifted into a faster movement, I knew it would not be long 
before my own churning need would reach its first release. I worked more 
intently on my sister, sucking and biting at the rich, trembling flesh of 
her cunt to bring her closer to my level of response. 

The two hands on my breasts were plucking and twisting my nipples more 
vigorously now, adding to the internal flames. As I felt my own moment 
coming nearer, I reached up to grasp one of Terry's full breasts, and the 
pressure I exerted on it seemed to act as the final key to our 
interconnected passions. 

She began to pour out her flood of nectar for me at almost the same moment 
that I could feel liquid thrusts of Albert's ejaculation. Then, I let the 
dam of my own emotions overflow, and the three of us were a twisting, 
turning mass of unsheathed ecstasy, not daring to let go of each other's 
flesh, and not being able to bear one more second of the mixture of agony 
and beauty. 

How long this triple climax continued can only be a guess, but we did not 
leave one ounce of sensation go untouched till we collapsed upon one another 
in a triumphant, sated group on the bed. 

This is, of course, almost the end of my story, Doctor. Needless to say, I 
stayed in Kansas City for more than a week, till the three of us had 
explored each other's capacities and techniques for sex to the very limit. 

I returned to Chicago with Terry, and had the pleasure not only of a few 
private sessions with her, but also the company of several men she has known 
for several years. 

I came back here to New York to see some of the sights and meet some of the 
people, before going back to Paris. Your name was given to me by one of my 
recent sex partners, and that brings us almost up to date. 

(Analyst: Yes, it does, Joanna, but it still leaves one very large 
unanswered question in my mind. I don't see why you felt you had to talk to 
a therapist about this. Are you feeling some kind of guilt about your plans 
and the way they turned out?) 

No, none at all. In fact, in one way this has opened up new experiences for 
me, and has helped to give me fresh insights into my sexual proclivities. As 
long as people can give pleasure and contentment to each other, I can't see 
why there should be any restrictions or prohibitions on their being 
together. 

(Analyst: Then why are you here?) 

For several reasons. First, let me ask you a few questions. It is true, I 
believe, that you are one of several doctors doing research in incestuous 
relationships. 

(Analyst: That's quite true. That's why I asked your permission to have the 
tape recorder running during our sessions.) 

And, there is the possibility that this material will be published sometime 
in the future? 

(Analyst: Yes. Once the cases have been selected and edited.) 

Then, there is a good chance that my experience will be put into a book; 
that others will be able to read about what I have done, and how I feel 
about it. 

(Analyst: That's true.) 

Then, this is one of the purposes of my talking to you. I feel that people 
will never be truly free until they are completely emancipated about their 
sex. This is the way I have lived, and to some extent, I think it is the way 
any number of them could live. People make themselves very unhappy over 
sexual problems, and my life has been based on using sex as a means to 
contentment. 

(Analyst: I can't argue with that. My entire professional life is based on 
achieving the very same ends. And, I can say I am almost positive your story 
will be included in the planned book.) 

Then, there is just one more thing, Doctor. Have you found any of my story 
to be sexually arousing? 

(Analyst: Of course I have. After all I am a man, and a human being. 
Reacting to these experiences has nothing to do with my ability to 
understand the psychology of the people involved in them.) 

The man who gave me your name also said that it would be impossible for me 
to arouse you to the point where you would have sex with me. I told him that 
if I could arrange to have sex with my brothers and sisters, I could 
certainly get you. 

After all, although I am paying you for the time of these sessions, I am not 
looking for help or advice. I am not going to become a patient of yours. So, 
there is no reason why we can't be friends. 

And, if I am not mistaken, you still have a hard-on from the last story I 
told you. Am I right? (The tape ends abruptly at this point.) 

* * * 

SUMMARY: No comment. The case speaks for itself. 


THE END
