Chapter 6

Sauna Sex and Black Rape

An infantile hang-up can turn one to the habit of cocksucking. So can isolation, like the loneliness of soldiers on far-off battle fields. Curiosity, a desire for thrills, is also a contributing factor. And there are those, like prostitutes, who are drawn into it.

Many prostitutes have long been known for their addiction to oral intercourse. They refuse to have regular sex, wishing to save it for their lovers. When in bed with a customer, there is a remarkable vigor and violence in a prostitute's manipulations and sucking, and delights in drinking the semen and draining the cup of bliss. Most prostitutes love cunnilingus.

One Juarez 'puta' exclaimed that she preferred oral intercourse with strange males. There are brothels all over Mexico where only oral coitus is practiced. This is also true in seaport cities from Morocco to Egypt.

Many Mexican males prefer their sex by some perverse method. Being Catholic, regular sex means babies, and there are too many babies. They become analists and oralists to enjoy pleasure and yet cut down the birth rate.

There is an old belief that sexual connection with a Negress is a sure cure for temporary impotence. This may be attributed to the fact that many Negro women are famous for fellatio, which is perhaps the most effective means for provoking an erection. They often employ mouth coitus for the purpose of arousing or rearousing their bedmates.

It is said that the black woman feels no disgust at semen. She will continue to suck the penis until the process of orgasm and ejaculation is ended. She either swallows the semen or secretly spits it out on a towel. When nearing a climax, the usual impulse is for the man to hold the woman's head to make certain she does not withdraw and thus break the acute current of sensation.

Oral coitus, which has been extremely common and customary in the East, is growing also in the West.

The scene is a windowless torture chamber. Naked figures leap and writhe amid clouds of scalding steam Flames crackle. White-hot rocks hiss like a nest of angry serpents. It is a sauna bath.

Nude men and women are sprawled on tiers of smoking benches. Some lay as limp as poppy-puffers in an opium den. Sweating couples on the top benches are locked in passionate wrestling holds behind veils of liquid smoke.

Other naked people run around the blistering floor and are lashed with stinging switches by two husky men. Screams of agony, moans of ecstasy, hysterical laughter and other strange ' sounds echo in the searing, suffocating gloom.

These people are indulging in Society's newest and most weird kick Sauna Sex!

The sauna, a Finnish bathing custom a thousand years old, is replacing the swimming pool as an American status symbol. It has at least one major advantage over swimming pools complete privacy.

No one knows what goes on inside a windowless, soundproof, air-tight sauna bath except those who are there. And, in the clouds of swirling steam, even they can't always be sure.

The sauna is a high-voltage sweatbox where superheated steam is produced by pouring water over hot rocks. The rocks are preheated by cordwood or coal stoves. When the temperatures inside the room are high enough to sear the flesh and boil the blood, the bath is ready. The usual Sauna temperatures range from 200 to 250 degrees Fahrenheit.

Water and blood boil at 212 degrees, but the dryness of sauna steam keeps bathers from being scalded.

When the bather has soaked up all the heat he can stand, he is supposed to dash outdoors and jump into the nearest body of cold water, the colder the better. Americans usually leap into their swimming pools, or take a cold shower. After that, they are ready for more activity, but of a different sort.

Many sauna baths are the scenes of sexual orgies that would make Nero blush. Not only do saunas encourage men and women to mingle without any clothing, but they also melt inhibitions, along with excess pounds. The higher the temperature, the lower the resistance, and in mixed company, passion rises along with the clouds of steam. The wall-to-wall benches in any sauna provide a perfect excuse to lie down and do what comes naturally, especially when in heat.

Furthermore, the secluded sauna gives bathers the chance to try forbidden pleasures without fear of reprimand or arrest.

In Finland, the whipping is quite painful, but Americans have adapted the wooden whips to stimulate nothing more than sexual appetites.

In Suburbia, bored married couples have a new version of the wife-swapping game. It is called Sauna Swapping. Any number can play.

And it goes something like this: Under the pretense of massaging, a man will embrace and draw toward himself the thighs of the woman he is handling. He touches her groin and belly, slowly feeling his way around to the central portion of her body.

Then he finds her clitoris and teases it.

He may work on her some time before she does anything to him. Finally, she finds his stiffened cock and takes it in her hands. She teases him for getting into such a state, but keeps squeezing his cock and rubbing it to keep it in an erect condition. It he does not tell her to suck on it, she begins oral congress anyway. If, however, he orders her to suck him, she becomes coy and consents only at last after long begging.

Now, she holds his prick in her hand and places it between her lips. She moves her mouth up and down and around and around in a churning manner. After a time, she withdraws it, and forming her fingers into a bud, with them collected or joined together, she cups the head and presses her lips to its sides. She kisses it again, then puts it into her mouth, and presses it with her lips, then takes it out. Again, she puts half of it in her mouth and sucks it. Lastly, she presses it all in, as if she would swallow it up. She devours the penis until he ejaculates.

Even dressed, these women from the sauna bath are alluring. Clothing was first worn to allure. It wasn't a feeling of shame at first that provoked clothing, but in time, it was.

Clothing was a form of sex attraction. Fashion bears witness to this and hints of intimate sexual relationships brought about by provocative attire. A sexily-clothed body is more exciting than nudity. Fashion always starts from the ranks of courtesans.

Fashion has introduced a sensual element in dress in two ways. Either it renders certain parts of the body conspicuous and exaggerates then-size by the shape of the garment, its drapery and trimmings, or it leaves parts uncovered to catch the eye. Both maneuvers aim at the production of a sensual effect.

The stretching of the skirt over the buttocks and legs in such a way that the outlines of the hips and thighs obtrude themselves upon the eye was surely invented by a Parisian demi-mondaine to serve sensuality. The corset aims to render conspicuous and prominent the female bosom. It tries to effect an exciting contrast between the form of the bosom and the slimness of the waist, increased by tight lacing. At the same time, fashion dictates for a great number of occasions an ample nudity of this most alluring female organ.

The bosom of the woman is the organ by which she is able to express herself most ingeniously. Its undulations were always her most expressive and skillful rhetoric. The bosom represents the woman's language and her poetry, her history and music, her purity and her longing, her policy and her religion, her worship and her art, her secret and her convention, her character and her pride, her consciousness, her magic mirror, and her mystery.

Since World War II, people's interest in the bosom seems to have grown. Perhaps, in this day of unisex, it is the one way to emphasize the difference between the sexes.

It is a paying project. Registration figures from the American Guild of Variety Artists shows that there are more than three thousand and five hundred strippers currently paying dues. The bosom has come into its own.

Today, busts are booming.

And there seems to be no doubt that the trend will continue without let-up into the far distant future.

Delia R., a big-bosomed stripper in a French Quarter nightclub in New Orleans says, "I know both sides of this color line because I pass for white. Even my fellow strippers think I'm white, and they've seen everything."

Delia went on to explain that she didn't try to hide the fact that she was part Negro, "half coffee and half crea."

"But people won't believe me, because I look a hundred per cent white."

Even the few people who knew she was a mulatto didn't care. It was like one of her white boy friends told her, "When a girl's got boobies like you've got, her color doesn't make any difference!"

And he was right. A beautiful, full-breasted woman is looked at as a woman, and a few skin tones one way or the other don't stop the boys from whistling.

Delia's ex-husband was a successful Negro business man. They didn't get divorced for racial reasons. "Personal differences split us up," Delia said.

But, perhaps, she was only partly right. She went on to say that she had always lived comfortably on both sides of the color line. "I consider myself free, mulatto, and twenty-one, which happens to be my age," she joked. She sighed deeply and added, "But I would never marry a Negro man again."

Asked why, she said, "Negro men are too primitive. In spite of what people say about Negroes as lovers, I think white men are sexier. First of all, they're more aggressive and confident with a woman. This is probably because they've been around more, have better jobs, and are just more worldly than Negroes. And because of their worldliness, they've usually had more experience with women, and this always makes a man a better lover."

Asked about her sex life with her ex-husband, she shrugged and said, "The morning after our wedding night, I set him out a bowl of lettuce for breakfast. He looked surprised and asked, 'What's this?' "

" 'You fuck like a rabbit, so I thought maybe you'd want to eat like a rabbit!' I told him."

She said he would hardly give her time to get ready. "He'd crawl onto me and start pumping, and there wasn't much in it for me. His huge cock would slip in and out of me right on target, and I'd feel as if I'd burst. He'd push its big head in and out of me, and he'd bite my breasts like some hungry animal. And then he'd come. But he'd keep his hard, throbbing tool buried in me.

"Once, I forced him out of me. I grabbed his cock by its head and started licking it like it was ice cream, almost out of my mind with pleasure. He twisted and moaned and pulled away from me, saying my sucking was too intense.

"He stuck his cock into me again and just sort of twisted it around inside my cunt. Then he started bouncing up and down on me, working harder. It hurt. Pretty soon, the whole big shaft of his cock was coming in and out, then ramming hard and deep into my cunt until I thought he'd tear me to pieces. On every downward slam, I'd cry out. He grunted and drove even more violently until he came again. He was obviously a savage now, biting, hurting me. He grabbed my ass and pinched until it was black and blue."

"You're something of a mouth-girl, is that it?" she was asked.

"Yes, I guess so," Delia admitted rather reluctantly. "You see, it's like having food, having love, having everything a girl wants. The sex act has always made my mouth water, and I guess there's a pretty sensitive erotic zone in my mouth." She ran her tongue around her lips.

Delia had an older brother. Once, when she was quite small, only five or six, he tried to have intercourse with her. But she was too small to take his hard, blood-filled shaft. He was made so different from a girl, and she was excited. When he coaxed, she let him persuade her to take it into her mouth. It tasted sweet and made her feel very close to him. She moaned and made wet sounds over it, letting him sink it deep into her throat. She closed her eyes and felt content. It was the happiest moment she could remember, and it was because of her brother's hard, sensitive flesh in her mouth. She was ashamed afterward, she admitted, but she couldn't help herself.

"I love sucking," she said. "To feel a big, hard cock in my mouth is a psychotic need, I guess, a need I cannot ignore. I sucked my brother many times after that."

"And when you married?"

"My ex-husband didn't go for that kind of stuff. Again, that's one of the reasons I like white men better. They're more sophisticated. They'll do and let you do more things."

"Like submitting to a blow job?"

"I've never dated a white man who wouldn't. And I love to have their spurt of come splash deep into my throat. I accept it willingly. It is my reward, my proof, that I have pleased them I keep my mouth on a man during his frantic plunging when he's in sweet agony, and I milk him after he's quieted. I suck his softening cock as he relaxes and sighs in contentment.

"I never get mad if, occasionally, someone uses a derogatory term about my habits. I don't think such language necessarily means they're prejudiced, rather that they are exposing an inner urge and are trying to hide it.

"But, if they keep on making slurs, I get mad. Because what I do is my own business!"

For a moment, her eyes showed anger. Her face tightened into a frown.'"As I said, though," she continued, "mostly I have no opposition. And especially from white men. They like me and my habits.

"You see, I'm really coffee that they put then-cream in. And coffee, with a bit of cream, makes a tasty drink, don't you think?"

Sabra B. was a victim of one of those race riots which have beset our major cities in the last several years. She was not a racist. She had nothing at all against the black race. She learned from her sad experience that actions committed under one set of circumstances are not necessarily actions that would have been committed under another set of circumstances. She learned that the hardened ghetto gang leader, Spike, could be tender in given moments, when he felt tenderness was being returned. Sabra, perhaps, was the first and only person in the world who ever convinced Spike that there were true feelings in the world.

Her story starts one evening when she became angry with her mother and left the house for a walk. She walked to the end of the block and aimlessly turned toward the park. The night was warm, but she didn't notice. She had too many things to think about.

She hadn't realized how far she'd gone until a car drew up at the curb and a coarse voice asked, "Ride, baby?"

Sabra jerked around to stare into the shadowed face of a Negro, speaking to her from the opened car window.

"You look lonely, baby, all by yourself," the man said in a low tone.

It was then Sabra noticed with sudden panic that she'd walked far beyond the park, into a rather run-down section of the city. She also noticed that there were other people in the car.

"I think she's a stuck-up little bitch," the first boy said to the others.

"But look at her cute little ass, Spike! How'd you like to get your hands on that?" another boy asked.

"Honey, we'll give ya two dollars."

There were chuckles and loud laughter from the car. "It's just one fuck a piece, if you come with us nice-like, baby," Spike said. "But if you don't, we just might take all we want."

Sabra could stand the horrible insults no longer. Suddenly, from sheer panic, she broke and ran. The Negro boys piled out of the car and came after her. She was in a lonely district. There were no houses close.

"Goddamn, she's a fast little bitch! Look at her go!"

But a hand grabbed her hair, and she screamed, "Help me! Somebody help me!"

There was no one around. The boys dragged her back to the car. They took her to an old, abandoned house at the outskirts of the city. There, Spike had the other boys hold her down on a dirty cot. She sobbed helplessly as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his large, hot, black penis. "Oh, God," she prayed, "don't let him."

She felt her legs being spread wide. Spike's breath was coming heavier as he pressed his body tightly against her soft flesh. She moaned her protest into the hand over her mouth as she felt Spike's knee inserting itself between her legs and prying them relentlessly and cruelly apart.

She fought, but there was no stopping him.

"Man, I just can't hold back," Spike said. "I gotta fuck her now, or my balls gonna explode!"

"Go on," one of the other boys encouraged. "Fuck 'er now!"

Sabra squirmed hard against the Negro's binding hands, but the slow, seductive movements of her buttocks crushing back into the hardness of his loins only served to sharpen his desire for her. She sobbed into the hand covering her mouth, and broke away from it with a jerk of her head.

"Oh, God, please don't! Don't do it to me!"

Her piteous supplications were cut short again by the rough hand clamping down over her mouth. Spike reached down and jerked her dress up around her neck. With trembling hands, he caressed the lust-inciting nakedness of her inner thighs. He pinched her ass, delighting in her groans. He pulled her nylon panties down.

Sabra was wild with fear now. She was going to be raped! Raped by a vicious gang of Negroes who thought and acted like animals and had no compassion or feeling toward her, or any other human being. Her buttocks quivered convulsively from the terrifying thought of what fate would surely be hers in a few minutes. There was nothing in the world that could save her now.

"Man, just look at that cute little cunt!" Spike was saying, his face contorted crazily as he spoke almost in a trance.

Sabra groaned as she felt a hardness from Spike's crotch pushing into her cheek. She felt a small, wet circle of seminal fluid seeping through his pants, sticky against her cheek. His hands began working at his zipper.

Now, he was playing with her breasts, teasing her nipples until they sprang into defensive hardness, their tiny, bud-like tips throbbing.

"Hold 'er back, damn it!" Spike commanded.

Sabra trembled in abject terror. And then she felt his hardened cock pressing against the tender backsides of her thighs. She felt its stickiness where the wet, hot seminal fluid seeped from its large, inflated head. She wiggled her ass in desperation, attempting with all her strength to evade the thrusting of his big cock into her unprotected vagina.

But he had found the wet, smooth opening. He rammed forward with a hard, cruel thrust that burst into her with the hot, fiery pain of a thousand Roman candles.

"Oh, God," she screamed wildly, as she felt him skewering into her like a red-hot poker. He broke through the tight ring of her virginity and on into the warm, wet cavern beyond.

He ground his thick, fat cock around and around without mercy deep inside her painfully expanding channel, while Sabra twisted and groaned in anguish before the depraved attack on her defenseless body. She felt as though her vaginal passage was ablaze and burning as she sensed through the dim consciousness of her brain and slight giving and tearing of her flesh. Her body went limp from the sudden shock and pain.

Finally, it was over.

She knew when Spike's huge cock slipped with a wet, sucking noise from between the fleshy folds of her cunt. Now, one of the other black boys was upon her.

"No! No!" she screamed.

Spike pulled him off of her.

"I gotta right to some of it, too!" the boy yelled.

"You ain't gettin' none of that, you hear? If you lay another hand on her, I'll kill you!" Spike threatened.

The boy cringed back before Spike's verbal attack. He glared at Spike, but he obeyed.

Spike turned his gaze back down to Sabra's hammered body. "Now, you're gonna give it to me another way," he said between clenched teeth.

"No, no, please, please, don't," she pleaded through her tears of shame and humiliation. She felt his hands begin kneading and stretching the open and unprotected twin mounds of her buttocks. Her body jerked up as she felt his thumbs on either side, spreading them wider apart.

"Oh, God, no!" she screamed.

Spike's middle finger thrust between her thighs and into the soft, protective folds of flesh around her vagina. She cringed as he found and touched her clitoris. She squirmed and moaned as his finger wormed around her sensitive organ.

"I'll slip it in nice and easy this time," he promised.

Sabra whimpered as she felt his cock part her cunt lips and its slow, agonizing pressure beginning. She groaned incoherently.

"Ooooooh, noooo!"

The huge, blood-filled head of his prick slipped wetly inside with a rush that left Sabra gasping for breath. She struggled wildly, squirming and trying to escape the cruel and painful impalement of her cunt.

"God, what a pussy!" Spike gasped. His cock spread into her without mercy, battering and slashing. Sabra's muffled moans of pain and humiliation went unheeded and unheard as his thick, hard cock sank to its fullest depth into her quivering, white belly, and she felt its hard head pressed tight against her cervix.

There was no stopping him, and there was nothing she could do but accept the vile, obscene rape of her body without resistance.

"Christ!" Spike muttered as he watched his long, black, glistening cock, moist from her cunt's secretions, pistoning into her white flesh. He thrust forward into her with the powerful in-and-out rhythm he had begun. He pumped into her like she was a bitch in heat. His fingers dug cruelly into her tiny, puckered anus, and then jerked forward again, pulling her back over his cock while he continued to ram into her with growing abandon. She felt his heated cock grow thicker and thicker in her belly. She ached and burned inside as he continued to skewer into her with long, hard strokes.

Sabra's whimpers stretched into a long, low, continuous whine. Through the dim haze of her tortured mind, she felt him growing deep inside her as this horrible, unknown Negro filled her helpless belly and womb with his hot, sticky lust.

Oh, God, she thought, what if she got pregnant! She tried to clench her buttocks as a senseless gesture of defense.

As her warm, wet muscles clasped tight around his hard-driving cock, Spike threw back his head with a wild scream, and his lewd, hot sperm shot in to Sabra's cuntal passage. She groaned in helpless submission before him as he emptied himself with spurt after spurt of his driving lust juices deep inside her, filling her womb and belly to the bursting point.

She screamed as she felt his cock moving around in the warm, wet pool in her vagina, a hot, fiery reminder of her total subjugation to his cruel, inhuman fucking. He pitched forward in total exhaustion along the length of her flattened body and lay there, breathing fast, unable to move.

Sabra lay sobbing out her humiliation and fear beneath him, the sudden, horrible thought coming to her that it wasn't over. The other fellows would want to fuck her, too!

"Get off her, Spike," one of them said. "Let me at her now."

Spike lifted, and Sabra felt his deflated penis slip wetly from her forever expanded passage.

"You heard me you bastard!" Spike swore. "You touch her, and I'll kill you!"

The others groaned, but they didn't pursue the matter. Spike's pronouncement indicated he was the boss and in no mood for an argument.

To Sabra's surprise, he became protective and kind. Her hand tightened around his arm, and in spite of his brutal assault, she found herself clinging to him for protection against the others. In spite of her still smoldering dread of his touch, he seemed to be the only barrier that stood between her and total rape by all the others. She tightened her grip on his arm.

That seemed to please him. He became gentle and kind, and Sabra remembered he hadn't screwed her in the ass, as he'd started to do. Did Spike, the hater of all white people, have some goodness in him?

At least, he was trying to comfort her now as she sobbed because of her pain and humiliation. Little by little, some of the pain went away. Spike ordered one of the boys to bring a pan of warm water and a cloth, and when he did, Spike bathed Sabra's hot and hurting genitals.

Later, when he wanted to fuck her again, she begged him not to. "You tore me up and I hurt too bad," she sobbed to him. "And I might get pregnant-"

"All right, I won't," he said, "if you'll suck it for me."

Sabra had never sucked cocks in her life.

Spike's big, black prick, pushing against her, was getting pretty hard. She looked at it, and an odd sensation began to grow in her mouth. She knew that by taking it into her mouth, she couldn't get pregnant. And she could save her cunt for some future white lover. As Spike's hard cock throbbed against her, she became curious about the taste of it, and her mouth began to water.

But she hesitated.

She looked at the other black boys. They were repulsive to her, but Spike wasn't. He had a good build, and his skin was smooth and a light chocolate color. At least, he looked good, and she feared him less than the rest of them. It had become a matter of what one had to choose from, and not what one wanted to choose. The weakest had to choose the strongest of the group for mere survival, provided, of course, the strongest wanted her. And Spike wanted her now. She had no choice if she were to escape the others. And physically, he had already taken her.

He was there, and she knew she would have to be his by virtue of his leadership over the others. His hold on her was the strength and protection he offered.

She would have to obey him.

"Get on it," he said.

He pressed his great, thick cock against her lips. She opened her mouth, and it slid in. It stretched her mouth, and she could only take a few inches of it.

Spike reached out, got a pillow, and slipped it under her head. She looked up at his big, powerful body over her, and his cock was huge, hanging from between his legs like a big, black club. It filled her mouth with only its head and a small portion of its thick shaft. It was gigantic. No wonder it hurt so bad when he stuck it into her pussy. It was at least ten inches long.

He was on his knees and elbows over her now. "Lie still," he said. "I'm going to fuck your mouth now."

Sabra couldn't speak. She didn't want to. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she put her hands on his powerful, black, naked thighs. She slid her hands up to his buttocks and dug a finger into his ass.

That seemed to please him. She gagged as he pressed his prick against the back of her throat. Her head was pressed back into the pillow. His giant cock retreated, surged forward, filled her mouth.

And then he pulled it out again. Suddenly, his mouth covered her pussy, and his tongue started licking her. He switched around so that his cock was at her mouth, and she became a mindless thing, a body that gave and took, a mouth that was filled and battered by Spike's massive cock, a clitoris that pulsed with exquisite sensations from a fluttering, knowing tongue.

Then Spike's cock-thrusts became powerful, violent, almost splitting her mouth. He grunted, and then thick spurts of his juice flooded Sabra's mouth. Her throat worked to swallow. There was no more room for all the semen he was pumping into her. It overflowed her mouth and ran down her lips and chin.

Sabra was dazed. She kept urging him on and on with her hands on his dark, rippling buttocks.

Eventually, there was no more come in him. He pulled his softening cock from her mouth, but he was still going down on her. She worked her pussy against his hot mouth as her hands clawed his head. She whimpered and convulsed.

When it was over, she lay there like a dead woman.

Someone began washing her face and neck. She opened her eyes, and it was Spike. She smiled up at him. He smiled back.

She was content.

It was the first real sex satisfaction she'd had in her life. She decided right then there were a lot of advantages in doing it the oral way.

Satisfied, Spike would have let her go after that. But she didn't want to go. She knew Spike looked on her without hate or malice now.

But the others didn't. When Spike told her she could go of her own free will, the other Negro men protested.

"Man, you crazy?" they responded incredulously. "She'll have the fuzz down our necks before we get two miles!"

"No, I won't," Sabra said. But only Spike believed her.

To prove she meant it, she kissed Spike's full mouth, his chest, his belly, his cock. His cock began to grow again, and she closed her eyes and slid her wet lips over its velvet head, down the now hard column, and greedily worked her mouth and tongue to build up pleasure; to, once more, draw out those satisfying spurts of semen.

It took longer that second time, but she enjoyed every second of it. She clung to him with hands and mouth and throat, and in that dark, dreamy world behind her closed eyelids, she sucked like an infant at its mother's breast. And she sucked love from him by giving pleasure.

He cried out as he came, and she helped with her tongue and mouth. She knew she was earning a place in his life, knew that she was needed.

And, strangely enough, she felt closer to him than she had ever felt toward any other man.