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.)
