A bright bluebird, its wings still and slanted, glided to a perfect landing on the low branch of a tree a few feet from where I sat. It was gorgeous in the brilliant sunshine, and I stopped eating my sandwich, afraid the rustling of the paper would scare it away. Ignoring me, it began to peck at something on the branch.
Mixed with my admiration for the bird's beauty I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. I wondered what it would be like to be a bird, beautiful and free, soaring above all the dirt and ugliness below. For a brief, ecstatic moment I was caught up in the fantasy of flight, seeing myself as a graceful, swooping bird… a confident, capable, glorious bird. Then, like a sword slashing into and fragmenting my little daydream, I heard high-pitched giggles coming towards me.
Three girls I knew, but whom I had never talked to, were sitting on a bench not more than fifteen feet behind me. I had no idea how long they'd been there, watching me, but my pale face flamed and I felt sick inside. I'd come to this part of the park three blocks from school every day for a month now, sure that at last I'd found a place where I could have lunch in peace. I was painfully shy, and I'd never been able to relate well with kids my age. I did fine with older people, but I was a big dud with my peers.
The girls were talking and giggling about me. I felt sure of it. True, there were times I imagined people were talking and laughing at me, but this time I knew it was more than my paranoia. Damning myself for the deep blush I knew was all over my face, I turned back to my sandwich and pretended not to notice the girls.
The food stuck, in my throat, and for a sickening moment I thought I would have to cough it up. Blindly I reached for my carton of milk and took a quick sip. But my hand was shaking, and I swallowed too fast. A thin trickle of milk ran from the corner of my mouth, down my chin and dribbled onto my blouse. I could have cried.
The giggles increased as I turned away to fix myself up. In a way, what had happened was a capsule performance of my entire life. That was me, the odd man out, the hopelessly strange one, the natural-born loser.
It was even obvious in my looks, in a strange sort of way. Oh, I'm not one of those homely girls who are shaped like a box and covered with pimples. In fact, I'm even sort of pretty in a way. And, safe in my room; naked, in front of a full mirror, I'm even beautiful. But when I'm around others, well… I just get all tight inside and everything goes all wrong. It's always been that way for me, even when I was a little girl. The only kids who would be my friend were the boxy, pimply ones, so I learned to enjoy being alone a long time ago.
At that moment if there was anything in the world I would have changed, it would have been to get rid of those girls. Instead they stayed where they were, giggling and talking, and I thought my face would turn to stone in my effort to ignore them. Then I realized one of the girls was coming towards me.
"Hi, Fran. Mind if I talk to you a minute!" The girl brushed at her skirt, sat down next to me and gave me a bright grin.
I hardly knew what to say. The girl at my side was Gerry, one of the most popular girls in school. I didn't even know she knew my name. I sort of shrugged.
Gerry looked over her shoulder at the other two, then turned her dark eyes on me. She hesitated while she openly looked me over as if I were a new coat she was considering taking home with her. "You could be groovy looking with a little makeup, Fran. And maybe if your clothing was a little more mod…"
I flashed on my mother sprinting me around getting new clothing, mod clothing… In a family where I was one of eight kids, and where a father and a paycheck only came by on rare occasions, I was glad to be wearing anything. But I didn't even consider throwing that at Gerry. I was still having trouble swallowing the rest of the sandwich.
The blonde girl seemed to lose interest in what I was wearing. She motioned for her friends to join her. Suddenly she was all business. "Look, Fran, I'm sort of in a jam. I promised to get a girl for the big pre-graduation party the boys are having. I think it's the new boy, Hank, who needs the date. The thing is, I promised to find a girl, but I already have a date and so does everyone else for the party. I was wondering if you could help us out. I'd really appreciate it. I'd just die if I had to let them down…"
I knew about the party. The football team and a few of the other popular boys had a sort of club, and they were throwing a party that night, a week before graduation. It was going to be at the old H. house, and only the handful of loser kids like myself would be missing it. But Gerry was telling me I didn't have to miss it…
I was having trouble understanding Gerry. Why was she offering to fix me up with a date? It might be true, about having a hard time finding a girl this close to the party, hut why me? Only I couldn't bring myself to ask. "You want me to go out with Hank? To the party?"
She tossed back her hair and laughed. "Oh, be a sport, Fran. Do it. I'll even lend you a groovy dress, okay? Please? Look, you're absolutely the only girl left I can ask. All the others who don't have dates already are duds like Betty and Rita."
Betty and Rita were girls I went around with when the loneliness got to me. And both of them were obviously unattractive. In spite of myself I felt a pang of pleasure at being lifted out of their class. I found myself nodding.
The three girls grinned at each other, then Gerry hurriedly told me I was to come to her house at eight, and then they were off, mumbling something about the next class.
I watched them go, then turned back to the bird. But it was gone. I realized my heart was racing. A date! Me!
It wasn't as if I'd never gone out with a boy before. I had. I went with Larry most of the year before, and I'd also dated three other boys at school. But they were all outsiders, too, and somehow they didn't really count. Not like this.
I didn't kid myself about why I'd been asked. I was sure every girl who was at all decent had been asked first. But maybe, by some miracle, by some fantastic stroke of luck, Hank would like me. Maybe something in me would come out, and this would be the whole new start of my existence.
The day went quickly. I bumped into Larry in the hallway, and turned down his suggestion that we go to a movie the next weekend. Larry was sweet. He was very sweet. Maybe that was part of what was wrong with him. I sneaked a peek at some of the boys in Gerry's bunch, the ones I'd be with that very night. They were so different, with their arrogant walks and the cool way they looked everyone over. I felt a terrific excitement shoot through me as I glanced over at Hank, the new boy, the one Gerry thought would be my date.
After school I hurried home and found the apartment almost empty. I managed to work the ancient lock on the bathroom door and I gratefully slipped into a tub of hot, soapy water. Relaxing, I thought about Hank again.
He looked very sure of himself. He'd transferred from a neighboring school. There had been some trouble with a girl, but I wasn't sure what it was all about. He was tall and good looking, with thick muscles and a strong face. Closing my eyes, I lost myself in a little fantasy. Hank would like me. He would think I was pretty. He would put his arms around me, and then he would kiss me. Finally, he would rub himself against me and push me back against the bed…
I loved sexy fantasies. It was a thing I had. I knew a lot about sex. Not from personal experience, really, but because as a kid I'd managed to watch my patents do it a lot. We lived in a two-room apartment then, and I would sleep on a cot in their room. I'd pretend I was asleep sometimes. Once my father came in drunk and mean, and my mother was already in bed asleep. In the dark I managed to see him wake her up by reaching around and squeezing her soft breasts.
She woke up angry, but that didn't stop the old man. He continued to force his big hands under her gown. She soon stopped being angry and held still. Then he rolled over on top of her, and began to move between her legs. There was something about the way she didn't resist him at that point, the way she held her plump body still while he plunged in and out of her, that frightened yet excited me even as a child. Oh, I knew why she didn't resist him. I'd also been awake a few of the nights when she'd tried to keep him from riding her. He'd be drunk and demanding, and she'd fight him silently, but always he would force her down, laugh low in his throat, and mount her just the same.
I was also awake and silent on the nights when she would be in an altogether different mood. Maybe they'd both have had too much to drink, or maybe, for once, he wasn't drunk. But then they'd get into bed like kids, and hug and kiss each other. On those nights I would strain my eyes to watch my mother slide down my father's body and suck his big, long dick into her hot mouth. He would moan and cry out with pleasure as she would suck on him. Then, afterwards, when he was plunging into her body in the same old way, Mother would be moaning and crying out right along with Father.
Long after they'd fallen asleep I'd toss and turn in the darkness, too excited to sleep.
In the tub I thought about all those things, even about the three times I'd gone to bed with Larry. It had happened the summer before once in his room and twice in his father's car.
I'd wanted to go to bed with someone since I was twelve or thirteen. But I was always too shy to talk to boys, much less go out with them. But eventually, I went out a few times, and once I started to see Larry regularly I figured it would be a matter of time before we would try it. Larry, believe it or not, was even shier than I was, and after dating all year, I finally forced the issue.
Larry had borrowed his father's car, and I just about had to lead him every inch of the way. While we were kissing, I pushed my breasts against his chest until he finally figured out he should play with them. I had td take down my own panties, because he was so nervous he couldn't manage, and it was me who grabbed his small, hard prong and guided it into my willing body.
I'd wanted to see what it was like, and I'd felt very disappointed after it was over. It had been a nowhere experience, and I felt somehow cheated. The same was true the other two times with him. I wanted something more, only I didn't know what that more was.
I got out of the bath finally, and quickly dried. I got into my nicest underthings, slipped into a pair of jeans and a shirt, and headed for Gerry's house. It was early, but I couldn't dare think too much ahead. I didn't want to stop for a minute, I didn't want to think. If I thought over what I was about to do, I was sure I'd back out on the whole thing. The Larrys of the world I could talk to, but not the Hanks and the Gerrys.
Even though I was very early, Gerry seemed delighted to see me. We spent a lot of time dressing and putting on makeup. Then we set off in Gerry's car for the H. house.
It was barely dark when we arrived, but already a dozen or more people were there. Gerry's boyfriend brought us some drinks and a minute later, Hank walked over and introduced himself. Gerry and Steve walked off and after a second Hank excused himself to make more punch.
The drink was a little strong for me, but I sipped at it. I could hardly believe I was here. A glance in a long mirror across the room assured me that I looked fine. Encouraged, I drank my drink and smiled at everyone.
Hank and a few of the other boys came by often in the next few hours. I felt too clumsy to dance, yet once I let myself be persuaded to try I did fine.
By the time Hank led me upstairs to a bedroom, I was on top of the world. Hank liked me! The other boys liked me! I would do anything for them!
The punch had made me a little drunk, but I knew what I was doing when I let Hank take me upstairs.
He was drunk, too. "Okay, Fran, let's see that cute little bod of yours." He began to pull at my dress.
I don't know exactly what hit me then. Maybe it was only that I'd wanted him to kiss me a little first. But I found myself moving back, out of his reach. "No," I said.
He got angry. "Don't give me any of that shit! I wanna fuck you, baby."
A terrific excitement filled me as I tried to move away from him. There was nothing shy and passive about Hank. He grabbed me and pulled me hard against his body. Then his mouth was on mine and his tongue was gliding over mine.
He was holding me too tightly, hurting me, but instead of pain I felt only pleasure. Something told me I could fight him, beg him to stop, and still he would continue. A furious excitement gripped me, and I felt my nipples grow hard and the juice between my legs begin to run. Although I'd have done anything just to please Hank and the others, to make them like me, I heard myself telling him to stop.
"You want it, too, Fran. Come on, honey…" His strong hands forced me to be still. Then he stripped the dress from my body.
Wearing only panties and a bra, I backed away from him. The crazy desire to fight him, to force him to force me was almost overwhelming.
He grabbed me and kissed me again, obviously all the more excited by my freaky protests. This time his tongue stabbed into my mouth, and his hands were hot and hard on my breasts. The bra came off in his hands.
"You have beautiful tits, Fran," he breathed, covering them with his big hands.
I jerked out of his grasp. He caught me, throwing me on the bed. I was quietly fighting him as he removed my panties, then he was on top of me, kissing me, unzipping his fly and aiming his big cock towards my juicing, naked slit.
He pressed into me with a low moan and I cried out with pain and pleasure as his huge organ inched up my cunt. He was much bigger than Larry.
I thought he would crush me as he lowered his big body on me. Finally, he was all the way in me. I was pinned down by his weight, helpless and his big prick was filling me like I never imagined I could be filled. It was wonderful.
Once inside me, Hank took over and began to ride me fast. He pulled some of his dick out of me, only to plunge it back in again a second later. He did that over and over, moaning and mumbling in my ear as he, fucked me. Finally, he began moving much faster, and then he was groaning loudly, almost splitting me in half with his fierce plunges. I felt him come in me.
Hank rested on me a moment, then got up. I was still terribly excited. There hadn't been enough time for me to come, and I didn't want it to be over. But before I could say anything, Hank was up and zipping his pants. He moved to the door, opened it, and started out. I distinctly heard him say, "She likes it on the rough side," before I became aware that someone else was entering the room.
At first I felt confused as I looked up to see John approaching the bed. He was a big football player who had never so much as glanced my way all the years we'd gone to school together. Now he was grinning down at me, his eyes moving all over my naked body.
"You like it rough, huh?" John began undoing his fly.
I looked up into his cold, blue eyes, and relaxed. I suspected that come I was missing wasn't very far away.
He pulled out his cock and held it over me as if it was a weapon. Then he climbed on top of me and shoved his dick hard into my body. I groaned, but it felt good. He began to pound into me like a madman. The inside of my cunt was beginning to feel as if it were on fire from all the action. But I lifted my legs up, encouraging him to get even more of his prick inside me. I was shaking all over, so close to my orgasm I could almost feel it. But there was something missing, something forgotten, a certain feeling or ingredient still lacking…
John continued spearing my cunt as I clung to him, and soon he was shooting into me. His cock was small by the time he got up. "Not bad, honey."
I still hadn't reached an orgasm, so when Frank, another football player, came in the room I just held out my arms to him, hoping that this time I would finally get what I needed so badly. By then I was well aware why I'd been invited to the party. Didn't every good party have a little gang-bang in the back room? A willing fuck from a chick who didn't matter all that much, someone who would be honored just to be invited!
For some reason knowing all this didn't depress me. Something in me accepted this role, even welcomed it. It was like I was living one of my sexual fantasies…
Frank acted nervous – he seemed to be in a big hurry. We didn't talk as he dropped his pants and climbed on me. I was almost numb down there, yet I still longed for the release that evaded me. Frank came almost immediately, and then there was another boy on top of me…
"I don't know if it was the booze, the sex, or just exhaustion, but things got very vague about then, and I was slipping into a dull, dreamless sleep. My last thought was regret that I hadn't come… and I couldn't help wondering what was wrong… what had been missing…"
Were one to construct a "sadomasochism severity gradient", ranging from -5 (extreme masochism) through 0 (normal) to +5 (extreme sadism), one would be hard pressed to identify the subject of the case on hand, Fran A., as a 1. Even when one becomes acquainted with the balance of her narrative, in which she relates her submission to Frank H.'s uncle, at whose home the "party" took place, the question of whether there is, in fact, a masochistic inclination in the subject or whether her submissiveness to sexual advances is nothing more than a natural, though perhaps somewhat over exuberant, desire to partake of the mysteries of sexual congress and to attain sexual gratification, is a question that needs be answered before the girl is diagnosed as a masochist.
Johann Gottfried von Herder, noted German philosopher and writer of the latter half of eighteenth century, strongly believed that among the basic needs of men, as elemental as that for food or procreation or communication, is the need to belong to a group. That Fran was consumed by such a need, suppressed though it appears to have been, is apparent from the tense expectancy with which she was seized and from the total willingness with which she submitted to Hank, John, Frank, and finally, as it shall be seen in the second half of her narrative, to Frank's uncle. Since Fran had been relatively inexperienced in sex – her three-time session with Larry, which had left her "disappointed", can hardly be construed as sexual proficiency – and admitted to not having ever attained orgasm, it is not surprising that, once she was caught up in the relatively flagrant sexual excesses of the "party", she surrendered to the sexual urge and the desires of the body that are exceptionally strong at that particular age of adolescence. It must be remembered that at no time did she appear to enjoy any pain that was meted out to her; she did not crave punishment; she did not wish to be abused. She simply wanted to experience gratifying sexual congress.
Two elements that emerge during her narrative that, phychologically speaking, appear to be of more interest than her "masochistic tendencies" are her remark about "loving sexy fantasies" and her apparent difficulty in attaining orgasm. Havelock Ellis, in his previously mentioned work, analyzing a case of true masochism, makes a statement that might explain Fran's relative sexual introversion prior to her experiences at the "party". Ellis states:
Day-dreaming [fantasy] has… throughout, been an important sedative influence in [the subject's] life (even allaying, she states, any tendency to worry or perturbation) and she is assured that, notwithstanding all that it has led up to, it has yet greatly contributed to the physical and mental well-being… She now plainly discerns that, unknown to herself, there was a purpose, that day-dreaming has a sex origin and is an automatic psychic attempt at sexual relief…
Fran's "sexy fantasies" were obviously a safety valve through which, subconsciously, she at, tempted to attain sexual relief. Whether her introversion – as manifested through her romanticistic nature, her shyness, and even her mild paranoia – was the result of her sex fantasies or whether her daydreams were the offshoot of her introversion is difficult to say. Her narrative would suggest the latter to be the case. At no time in her narrative does Fran mention any autoerotic experimentation or indulgement. This suggests both the reason why her introversion must have preceded her sex fantasies and why she had such difficulty attaining orgasm.
There is strong indication that Fran's problem was a combination of psychology and physiology. Psychologically, having engaged in intercourse with the boy, Larry, and having obtained no gratification from it, she not only felt "cheated", as she states, but concerned about her "inability" to enjoy sexual intercourse. It is possible that this "failure" made her consider herself as somewhat less of a woman and had actually inhibited her from attaining orgasm subsequently until a barrage of sexual activity heaped upon her, and culminating in the sexual taking of her by an adult man, tore through the barrier of her psychological inhibitions.
The possible, though under the circumstances not probable, psysiological answer to her inability to attain orgasm would be what is generally known as the presence of a "hooded" clitoris, a condition in which the clitoris is covered by an overhanging extension of the labia minora and which precludes it from receiving any direct stimulation that it is normally subjected to during sexual intercourse. The validity of such a problem in the case of Fran – although it cannot be ruled out – seems to be questionable, because such a condition cannot be remedied except through surgery, and although it is possible for a female with such an affliction to attain orgasm under certain highly stimulating circumstances, it is relatively rare that a series of copulatory acts will result in a sequence of orgasms, as was the case with Fran when she copulated with Frank's uncle, when none were attainable before. Consequently, as suggested above, Fran most probably did not suffer from such a physiological drawback.
Returning to the question of masochism, it must again be stated that the subject's willingness to engage in various forms of sexual activity with the older man – as narrated by her in the balance of her case – cannot in all honesty be construed as a manifestation of masochism. It was simply a manifestation of a normal desire to partake of something that had been late in coming for Fran; namely, sexual experimentation, sexual participation, and sexual gratification.
If one considers the subject's admission that she had "wanted to go to bed with someone since [she] was twelve or thirteen," and the fact that it was not until several years later that she had succeeded to "maneuver" the somewhat inept boy, Larry, into bed with her; if one considers the fact that her year-long dating period with the same boy ended in frustration for her, then the vigor and willingness with which she accepted the sudden string of males that "desired" her – for whatever ends – should be interpreted as nothing other than the exuberant awakening of the subject's long-dormant sexuality.
It is, indeed, fortunate that Fran did not become sexually "turned off" by the relatively brutish way in which the three boys, and later the grown man, performed sexual intercourse with her. Had she not accepted it for what it was, and had she not strived as she did to attain a climax, it is possible that Fran would have become even more introverted and would have withdrawn from any further attempts at enjoying her sexuality.
I awakened late the next afternoon. I blinked rapidly, knew I'd been asleep a long time, and sensed rather than saw the older man standing next to the bed. I sat up slowly.
"It's about time!"
I looked at the man and tried to come up with who he was. I knew I'd seen him before somewhere. Then I became aware of the fact that I was naked on the bed.
"I suppose you are one of my idiot nephew's friends. Quite a little party you had here." His steely eyes traveled over my body.
In spite of his anger I knew the man was aroused by my nakedness. He was old enough to be my father – but I felt myself growing excited as he continued looking at me. "You… you're Mr. H.," I said finally. It was then I remembered that the owner of the old house was in Europe, and Frank, his nephew, had arranged the party early so they could use the house. But his uncle had obviously returned early.
"He nodded. I chased the pack of little bastards out last night. Only I forgot to look in the bedrooms." His eyes watched me intently as I attempted to get out of bed. He saw me wince as I moved.
"In a little pain, eh? What were you, the party fuck?" He laughed.
I turned a deep red and glared at him. But as I tried to get out of the bed he suddenly reached over and pushed me back on the mattress. "Answer me, honey. I'm not used to being ignored."
His hand was hurting me. He was deliberately attempting to humiliate me. A strange flow of emotions shot through me. "That hurts," I protested softly.
He nodded, but didn't let go. "Well? Were you? Were you the party fuck?"
It was my turn to nod. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes." I felt his hand let up on my shoulder. A crazy excitement was increasing my wakefulness. I stared up at the graying man, meeting his hot eyes fully. "I liked it," I heard myself adding. "It felt good."
His hand slipped down to my breast. His fingers began to tease a nipple. "Did you? Did you really? Little whore. Beautiful little whore…" His voice was hypnotic as he leaned over me, seating himself on the edge of the bed. Then his mouth was closing over the other nipple.
"Ooh…" I arched my back, thrusting my tit further into his mouth. I looked down at his gray head, thought of my father and I was glad I told my mother I'd be at a friend's for the night. Immediately I forgot everything except being here with this man. I squirmed a little under him, and his teeth bit down lightly on my hardening bud.
He pulled away finally and stared at me. "Spread those legs. What's your name, by the way?"
"Fran." I parted my legs as he told me to. I couldn't explain the fascination I felt. The brown curls of my cunt were pried apart, revealing the soft, wet pink folds of my hidden flesh.
"Fran. Good. And you can call me Mr. H." He laughed and reached down. He found my clitoris easily, and as I gasped he squeezed the sensitive little knot of flesh hard. A thrill shot through me. Then he snaked a finger up my juicing hole. "Tight, especially for a little whore…" He moved the finger roughly.
I moaned and closed my legs around his probing hand. I felt as ripe as I had the night before, as primed by his finger as I had been from all those cocks. Mr. H. was a big man, physically as well as socially, and he was used to giving orders and having them obeyed. I felt like I had no choice but to obey him, and I was loving the sensation of being totally in his power.
"Little whore, little whore," he moaned as he drove his finger in and out of me.
I looked down at his pants. They were bulging at the crotch. I wanted to touch him, work him up as he was working me up.
His eyes followed mine to his crotch. "Take it out, Fran. Take my prick out nice, girl."
I unzipped him carefully as he continued to play with my pussy. My hand was shaking as I reached inside and gently pulled his long, fat cock out of his pants. It was hard, and it throbbed steadily as I held it.
"That's nice, honey." He began playing with one of my tits while his other hand eased further into my hole. "Now kiss it for me, baby."
No one had ever asked me to do that before, and the thought of it was faintly repulsive; I was on the verge of refusing when the hand on my breast tightened, as if he sensed my reluctance.
I pulled back a little and stared at the big rod in my fist. It was thickly veined and a deeper color than the rest of the man. Graying brown hairs as wiry as steel wool ringed the big tool, and a pair of massive balls swung loosely in their low sac. It seemed somehow dirty to consider kissing that length of throbbing flesh, like a degrading, humiliating act to perform for anyone, especially a stranger like this man. Yet, for some odd reason I didn't understand, just the thought of doing as he ordered made me tremble with desire, even while the act itself turned me off. So I didn't try to understand.
Fortunately, he didn't leave the decision to me. "I told you to kiss my cock, honey. Now!"
And when I didn't obey quickly enough, his strong fingers tightened on my tensed nipple. I groaned in pain, but again the pain wasn't without its partner, pleasure.
Mr. H. brought the head of his cock up close to my parted lips. Meekly I touched it in a soft kiss, which seemed to amuse the man.
"You kiss like a baby. A little whore ought to be able to do better than that." His exploring fingers moved out of my vagina and went lower, deftly moving into the cleft of my rounded ass. He hesitated over my tiny rectum, and I felt sure that if I didn't start kissing his dick the way he wanted it kissed, I'd end up with a finger cruelly rammed up my tender ass.
I pressed my mouth against his cock once more, only this time I kissed it as if I really wanted to. The heat of his dick was nice, though, and so was the way it pulsed against my lips.
"Take the head into your mouth, Fran. Suck it into that hot whore mouth of yours, baby. Or do you just suck little boy's cocks, like my nephew and his friends?"
His mocking voice was very sexy to me. It occurred to me that I'd heard something like it before, a long time ago. Maybe on one of those nights when my mother didn't want what my father was determined to give her.
"Start sucking, honey. Take that big prick into your mouth." He began feeding it to me, pressing the pointed head against my opening lips.
I could suddenly see myself on that bed, my mouth opening to take in Mr. H.'s big dick. I felt my face turn a deep red as the thick prick pushed past my lips and down my throat. I was actually doing it! I was actually sucking cock!
In place of the repulsion I was suddenly feeling still more pleasure. He was using my mouth as a cunt, as another wet, gaping hole to fill. He pushed into me until I was taking all of it, gagging, whimpering and feeling as if I might pass out on him. But I took all of it until I could actually feel his swollen balls against my chin.
While he rammed his dick down my throat, Mr. H. began to press into my small asshole. Instead of pain, though, the sensation was wonderful, and I arched my back, giving his finger free entry to my insides. He began to fingerfuck me hard there, and suddenly, between the torment in my mouth and the erotic finger in my ass, I began to come. It was like an unexpected flash flood, and I was caught up in the spasms almost before I realized what was happening. It was wonderful.
"You like it rough, don't you, honey? I've had girls like you before," he grunted, holding still while I finished my come. Then he pulled his hard dick from my mouth. "For the last ten years I've found it hard to get it up more than once in any session, even with a little doll like you, baby. So I've learned to make that one time damn good." With that he got up and began to undress.
I watched him as I rested on the bed after my lovely orgasm. I figured Mr. H. to be close to fifty, if not even older, yet his body was tight and strong. His hairy chest was broad, and salt-and-pepper furry. His dick had drooped a little now that it was out of my mouth, but it was still surprisingly thick.
At last he was naked. As if he had all the time in the world he wandered over to a big overstuffed chair across the room. He settled comfortably into it, then waved me over to him.
I got off the bed and came to him. His hot eyes watched me as I moved.
He stretched me over his lap so that my head was on one big arm of the chair, and my legs dangled over the other arm. Lazily he began to suck and nibble on each of my tits, going from one to the other. Then he began rubbing my belly and legs.
I was glowing all over in minutes. This was nothing like the night before when a series of cocks plunged blindly into my cunt. This was heaven. My titties burned from his mouth, and the rest of me was being stroked deliciously. Soon I was more than ready for a prick or two up my pussy.
But Mr. H. just kept playing with me. He seemed unaware that I was more than eager for him to take me. Finally, I had no choice but to let him know.
"Ooh, I'm so hot again!" I reached for his swollen prick. "I need that now. In me."
He smiled, but didn't move, and he wouldn't let me change position, either. He just kept on arousing me. Finally, I realized what he was up to. He meant to tease me until I was nearly out of my mind with desire.
"Please don't tease me any more. I really need it. Fuck me! Please fuck me!" Like the act of sucking his dick, begging to be fucked was both humiliating and exhilarating. I felt a slave to my own desires as well as to his tormenting games.
"Do you really want it?" he asked calmly, as if he didn't quite believe me. "You don't sound very desperate."
I gasped as his experienced fingers inched up my thighs only to retreat before they quite reached my cunt. "God, yes!" I raised my hips imploringly. "I need you to fuck me! Please, please. Fuck me, please…"
Instead, the man turned me over on his lap so that I was on my stomach, my cunt touching his stiff cock, but at an impossible angle while my rounded butt was exposed to his face and hands. He began to rub the firm cheeks gently. Then his touch became more demanding. Soon he was prying apart the cheeks to explore between them. Still once more an act that was degrading and humiliating was being forced on me, and again I was unsure how to respond to it. But my body accepted what was happening to it joyously. His finger traced the long crack, making me shiver in delight.
Just when I thought I couldn't stand it any longer, Mr. H. shoved his finger deeply inside me. First he probed my cunt, then he moved up my ass. I accepted the finger in both places with a deep delight, moaning and sighing as he fingered me. I got so hot I considered jumping off him and straddling his lap, impaling myself on his rigid tool. But at that moment he shoved me off him. I fell to the soft rug, and looked up at the man, confused.
"If you want my dick inside you, you'd better give it a good sucking first. Use that pretty tongue of yours." He wound his fingers through my hair, then tightened his grasp. Soon I could only hold my head at the angle he wanted it, but that was all right, too. I was being pulled toward his cock, and my lips were parting in expectation.
This time I knew what to do. There was a pearly, drop at the tip of his prick and I licked it off. Then I sucked his shaft into my hot mouth. I felt as if my mouth and cunt were working together – the wetter my mouth got the wetter my cunt became. It was like I had two cunts, and I was making the one fuck do for both of them. His hand was still grasping my hair painfully, and I was doing the best I could to suck him the way he wanted me to. I was aching so badly I finally dropped one hand to my cunt and began to play with myself. But he wouldn't stand for that. He made me use my hands on his balls and the base of his cock.
Finally, he was so hard that he sensed he would have to come right in my mouth. He withdrew his dick slowly, then used my silky hair to dry it.
"Fuck me now," I begged, getting to my feet at last. "Please…"
Grinning, Mr. H. said he would – his way. He led me to the bed, pushed me down on my stomach, then disappeared somewhere for a minute. When he returned he began to rub something oily and cold into my small asshole. Then he lowered himself over me. I tensed briefly as I felt the head of his dick begin to press into me, but before I could protest he was halfway in. I moaned with the pain, but as his huge shaft filled me. I began to feel a fullness in my pussy as well. His cock in my young ass hurt like hell, but in a strange way it also felt wonderful. He pushed in steadily until he was in as far as he could possibly go. I could even feel his balls up tight against my ass.
"Ooh, that feels good, Fran. Your little ass is so nice… You like it, don't you? You're like a little animal in heat. All hole…" He began to move in and out of me.
The first few strokes almost killed me. I even had to cry out with the pain. But it took only a minute to get used to the feeling. I held very still, letting him use my ass the way he'd used my mouth.
He knew how to hold back. I was on the verge of coming a dozen times as he smoothly fucked my ass. I could hardly stand it. But the older man had obviously been around one hell of a lot. When I almost came, he stopped. "Once you come you won't like the way this feels, Fran. Hold back. We'll come together later."
I tried, but then he began running a finger in and out of my cunt as he fucked my ass. I couldn't take that. Before I knew it, I was bucking up against his cock and moaning out my orgasm. He rode me hard while I came. But I soon found out he was right.
Once I'd finished, his cock felt like an arm up my asshole. Without the building pleasure I could feel only the pain. "Take it out! Please take it out now," I pleaded, attempting to escape his plunging cock. "It hurts too much! Please!"
Annoyed, Mr. H. couldn't resist riding me a little longer while I begged him to stop. Finally, he pulled his prick out of my aching hole. "I'll teach you to come only when I tell you to," he hissed furiously. Before I knew what he was going to do, he hauled off and slapped the ruddy cheeks of my ass hard. It was hardly a love pat.
I cried out, but I didn't move when he slapped me a few more times. I knew I deserved it for spoiling his pleasure, and, besides, the spanking really felt kind of good. Almost at once the tingling from the blows turned me on again, and I waited to see what was next on the agenda.
He turned me over after the spanking, and he opened my legs. "I think I've waited about as long as I'm going to wait," he remarked crisply, holding his big dick. "Now I'm going to fuck the shit out of you, little girl." He brought one of my legs up over his hip and quickly shoved into me. His cock had the look of stone by that time, as if it had been hard so long it could never soften again.
My pussy was very wet as he entered me. "I'm riding on the come of how many young boys, Fran?"
At first I didn't know what he had meant. Then I remembered the night before. "I don't know. Four. Maybe five. Maybe more. I kind of passed out, I think."
That seemed to excite him even more. "My sweet, little whore doesn't even know how many cocks have been in her in the past twenty-four hours! Were any as big as mine, or don't you remember that, either?"
I groaned as he filled me. The walls of my hungry cunt seemed to embrace him tightly on their own. The tip of his cock seemed to touch my womb. "No. You're the biggest. Your prick is the biggest ever! Oh, give it to me. Give it to me. Fuck me hard," I moaned.
There was no more holding back. The man started moving up and back inside me, rotating his hips to give the maximum pleasure to both of us. "I love shoving it up that pretty twat of yours. Your come-filled little whore's twat!"
I could only moan in reply. Both my legs inched up his legs and hips until I was tightly coiled around his waist, taking his dick as deeply into me as possible. This was all I'd ever dreamed about, all I'd ever wanted. I met his every thrust gladly. It was the culmination of all I'd gone through, the just reward for all the years of waiting and wanting.
"Now I'm going to fill your juicy hole with my come, baby. I'm going to drop my whole load into you. Into your little whore cunt…" He began to move faster and faster into me. His face was very red now, as if he'd pushed himself to the very limit.
I felt another orgasm starting up in my own belly, and I clung to him frantically, willing myself to hang on long enough to come with him this one time. "Tell me," I panted. "Tell me when…"
He could feel my strain, and it added to his own excitement. "Now," he cried out. "I'm going to come in you… now… now!" He drove his shaft into me furiously.
I relaxed enough to let it happen to me, too. This final orgasm was so intense that I remember only a flaring, white bomb exploding somewhere in my belly and brain, and I felt the first release of Mr. H.'s hot sperm as it shot up into my womb. Then I was dizzily spiraling into a black, soothing pit of nothingness…
When I awakened it was nearly evening, and I was ravenously hungry. Mr. H. was sleeping next to me. I eased out of bed, and padded naked through the darkening house until I found the kitchen. Quietly I made some sandwiches and a pot of coffee. A man of his age shouldn't go through all that exertion without some food under his belt. I was too hungry myself to wait, though, so I quickly gobbled some food while dialing a neighbor's number. We didn't have a phone at home, so I asked the neighbor to tell my mother that I was still at the friend's house and would stay for the weekend. I was sure I would stay for the weekend.
Then I carried the tray back to the bedroom. A little food, I reasoned, and the old bastard would be ready to go again.
"As I passed a hallway mirror, I caught sight of my reflection. I was smiling and relaxed. It made me realize that the lonely little duck, the oddball in any crowd, the strange one, had finally found herself. I knew where and what I was now. And, I suspected happily, I still had a great deal to learn."
The subject's case was brought to the attention of a psychoanalyst when it was discovered that Fran A. was pregnant. Having named the older man in the paternity suit, which was, naturally, combined with a statutory rape charge (subsequently dropped by her parents for fear of adverse effects such a court case might produce on their daughter), she revealed her story to the analyst. It was she herself who volunteered to the therapist her fear that there was something wrong with her because "everyone" seemed to think that she liked it "rough". It is doubtful that the analyst will have much difficulty in negating that fear in the subject and setting her on a normal keel in life.