Chapter 13
In spite of the many forms my perversion took, it was always toward the more exotic forms of oralism which I gravitated.
There was, for me, no pleasure to equal the joy of opening my thighs to let a young mouth explore, or tasting the freshest and most delightful piece of flesh a young man possesses. These were my finest moments.
It was my desire to achieve these exquisite forms of oralism which led me to one of the saddest and most wicked episodes of my life; an episode of which I shall be eternally ashamed and which points out the fact that my body is now paramount to my conscience.
I had been invited to an office party. There were to be hundreds present and it was to be held at the estate of the Chairman of the Board who had retired only a few months ago. At first I decided not to go since the size and place of the party made it exceptionally unappetizing to me. But when the night arrived, I reluctantly dragged out my party dress and did my hair. I realized that it would be suicidal to my business career if I was absent and I was not yet ready to give up that high paying job because I couldn't stand a few hours of social discomfort.
The affair was even bigger than I imagined. When I walked through the front door and was immediately greeted by a butler, I could make out at least three different dance bands, just from the music alone. There was a great deal of noise and excitement. People were rushing back and forth, holding their drinks precariously in their hands. I spotted a number of people from the office and many people from our out-of-town affiliates. It was the type of party where it is impossible not to drink. Waiters circled the room with trays of champagne glasses and every two or three steps was a portable bar manned by an intelligent and unobtrusive bartender. Gradually, I too, became caught up in the whirl and began to drink heavily.
A man approached me. He placed his arm around me. His fingers squeezed my breasts. I pushed him away. He laughed and staggered to another woman. This was how the minutes and hours slipped away.
Finally, I had to escape from what had become a drunken sexual brawl, where men and women pulled each other under the garden bushes and we could all hear their moans and grapplings. It was a night I shall never forget.
A servant pulled me by the arm: "This way, miss, just up those stairs."
His strong arms seemed to propel me in the direction he said and with great difficulty I began to climb the stairs. Arriving at the top of the landing, I began opening the doors to the rooms, but that servant must have directed many weary party-goers up the stairs for they were all full.
I continued to walk back into the house and then I saw a small landing under a window. I thought that it would take me to the attic where I could sleep, but instead, after a few moments of walking, I was surprised to find myself in the main part of the house which contained the master bed room and the rooms for the children.
I opened one door and spotted a boy of about twelve, sound asleep, his touseled hair dramatically contrasting with the whiteness of the pillow.
I closed the door behind me and lay down on the exquisitely soft rug in order to stop my head from going round and round under the influence of the alcohol.
The sound of the child's breathing wafted through the room and soon, in spite of my condition, I began to feel the jabs of lust. It began as it has always began, with a slight tremor of the leg, just above the knee. Why there I shall never know but that slight twitch in the muscle was the best indicator I had that my perversion was beginning to reach the conscious level. Then my forehead would break out in a sweat and my whole body would tense as if it was yearning to be penetrated but it must always guard against such a penetration.
"Who are you?"
I was jolted out of my reverie by these words which came from the edge of the bed. The child was awake.
"I am a guest at the party," I replied, trying as always to treat the young boy on an equal level.
"But that doesn't explain who you are," the child complained. He was quite young, far younger than the boys I was used to, but there was a certain quality in his voice, a certain petulance, which excited me even more.
"My name is Roger," he said, anxious to continue the conversation.
"May I come closer?" I asked him, aware that I stunk of liquor.
"Oh yes, I am very lonesome here, especially when parties are given and I am not invited."
"Why weren't you invited?"
"Do you really want to know?" He asked. I nodded my head and he leaned toward me and whispered in a very secret voice: "The servant tells me it is because my cock is too small."
He giggled.
"Where did you learn such words and thoughts as those?" I asked in a shocked manner.
"The servant," he giggled and he dived under the covers.
I had always prided myself on being expert in the areas of psychology and motivation of young boys, but I had never met a child with such a strange conglamoration of truths and falsehoods weaved together.
"Your cock is as big as any man in the room, and besides, it is how a man uses his cock, not the size, that makes it an organ to be admired or scorned."
After uttering these words I felt very silly. The idea of lecturing a child about morals was not to my liking.
"Do you really want to go to the party?"
He leaped out from underneath the covers and replied: "Yes, more than anything. More than anything on earth."
"Very well. If you follow a few simple instructions, you will be able to attend."
His eyes shone with anticipation. "Show me your cock."
The child was too shy at first to comply with my request.
"Remember, just follow a few simple instructions and you will be able to go to the party."
His shyness faded away. He opened the string of his pajamas and pulled them off.
"Look," he said, ashamed, "look how small it is."
I let my eyes roam over that small piece of flesh. The child was right. It was quite small, even for his age. My lips became dry as I watched it and then that dryness slowly turned into a wet heat. I was being swept up once again in the terrible lust and the consuming passion which was my fate. The boy's face was turned up toward me as if he considered me his personal savior. His white thighs were like twin cannon guarding the most precious store of metal.
It was such a stupid situation to be in and the child was so removed from reality. For a moment I wanted to leave that room as quickly as possible. I actually left him to walk a few feet to the door. But then I looked back and saw that small, supple body, just waiting for me, just waiting for some woman to initiate it into certain glories.
I undressed him. Under my expert hands the child was naked in a few moments.
First my fingers explored every area of his body, feeling the soft flesh that would become muscle and sinew.
A few moments after I bent over to kiss his young nipple, this child understood. Somehow, he knew that there was something wrong with me, that I was a pervert.
He began to struggle but I clasped one hand over his mouth and held him down with the other. He fought furiously but, soon, realizing it was no use, he relaxed his body as much as possible under the circumstances. My lips bent over him, grazing for just a while on the delicate down of his stomach and then moving toward the cock, toward the oral rape which would be my shame.
I felt the coolness of his globes. The skin of his sac was waiting for me and I grasped it with my lips. The child struggled as my lips pinched against the skin, sending the two globes into a furious pendulum movement. The child's thighs began to beat against me like a wounded butterfly.
But pain or hurt meant nothing to me once I had tasted his flesh. I licked his young globes until every part of them was drenched with my lustful saliva.
My eyes were on that cylinder of flesh which rested so quietly above the globes, which was the spearhead for the seed which is stored in those round balls. I moved my lips away, letting my hands cradle the globes as if they were twins, and slowly raised his cock for my mouth to feast on.
For the next ten minutes my lips and tongue raped the child. He wept. I could not tell whether it was from joy or misery but his body sobbed as my mouth brought his cock to manhood.
It was so smooth and so strong. I licked each vein and muscle along its glorious length. I let my tongue nibble as its gentle tip and then sucked the skin until it was a blood red. All the time I thrilled as I felt it grow and stiffen, until it was no longer the organ of a child, but a powerful cock which tore away the gates of my mouth and turned from the object which is raped to the rapist.
I opened my mouth wide to receive its thrust, and the child pumped his cock into my velvet throat.
Then the seed poured and I sucked up that incredibly sweet mixture, swallowing it as greedily as I would swallow the most delicate and treasured wine.
We fell asleep. It was many hours before both of us woke. The house was quiet. Taking him by the hand, we walked through the house in search of the party. Drunks were everywhere, passed out on the floor. The rooms were filled with broken glasses and platters of uneaten food. I could hear those who had eaten and drank too much moaning from behind closed doors. We were like two wanderers in hell. Finally, the child asked to go back to his room. He knew now that the party was no place for him.
In the room, we lay down together I kissed his beautiful face and then took off my clothes. I pulled his head down so that he could taste the nectar of my nipples.
The child groaned.
"Let me go," he pleaded.
"You must stay," I said desperately.
"I want to go," he persisted and tried to fight me, but I could not be fought, I was willing to go to all ends to reach my goal.
I took his head and pushed it between my legs. I knew that his first confrontation with such an exotic organ would drive him into a frenzy. I knew that my cunt against his face, the closeness of that heat and moisture and passionate womanhood, would be too much for him and the child would react in a violent and brutal manner.
He opened his boyish mouth and clamped his white, beautiful teeth on the lips of my vagina. I almost screamed with pain. But then all that violence went away.
A second later I felt the coolness of his tongue as it left those lips and sank itself into my quivering, waiting, cunt.
"Yes, it is for you, all for you," I said to the boy as I opened my legs wider and wider, until it seemed his virgin head would sink into the deepest recesses of my body.
"I have saved it all for you. I have saved every inch for you. Taste it, drain it, suck up the flowery juices which are there for your enjoyment."
My words drove the child to a greater fury. Soon I was reduced to a moaning slab of flesh, my flower pierced by his glorious tongue, a grown woman's body totally at the mercy of his mouth.
I stayed in that room for twenty-four hours and when I emerged I knew that a watershed had been reached.
Something had changed for me in that room. I had raped a child, but I had also moved closer towards normalcy. This I know is true. Perhaps the readers of these memoirs will not understand how I knew that my perversion was being transformed. Even I do not understand. But I know that during those twenty-four hours of oral delights, when his cock was perched in my tender mouth and when his tongue was travelling to its destination in the heat of my cunt-during that time, something happened to me.
At first glance the clinical psychologist must dismiss such claims as "something happened to me" to be sheer nonsense. The asylums of this country are filled with patients who are always claiming that a change has occurred in their lives.
But in this case there may be some truth in her claim. For one, the oral rape of a young boy is not her usual "modus operandi." Usually, she is much more sophisticated in her approach.
What then happened to her, on a subconscious level? We don't know. But we do know that whatever happened, happened before she met the boy, and that it was the oral rape which she used to bring it out. In other words, this "change" she speaks of was already there and she used the boy only to make the change palatable, to justify it.
Such devious and contradictory behavior and language is difficult for the average person to accept. Yet, it is quite common in people and situations such as are described in this book.
It is my prediction that the exact nature of the change will come to our attention in the next few pages. If not, then once again she has performed a monumental repression and there is little hope that any type of therapy would help her.