Chapter 2
My passion for the Spanish boy seemed to fade as quickly as it erupted. The next morning when he wheeled the coffee wagon into my office, there was nothing between us. It was as if those events had never happened or we had both pushed them so deep into our subconscious that they were no longer a factor in our relationship.
For the next few weeks I worked hard, preparing a report for the stockholder's meeting. When the report was finished I decided to take a few days off and go to a small cottage on the ocean which I rented from time to time.
Arriving there late at night, I went right to sleep, hoping to rise early for a long walk on the beach just as the sun was rising. I slept soundly and awakened just as the first rays of light filtered into the cottage.
Dressing quickly, I walked into the brilliant morning. My feet crunched into the sand and I let the sea water play around my toes as I walked. It was high tide and the surf crashed against the shore. All of my problems seemed to vanish. A few gulls swept by me, their raucous sounds a strange intrusion on the silent beach.
Then, about a hundred yards in front of me I spotted a figure. It was obviously a young boy and he was digging furiously just where the turf met the shore. When I was about three feet from him, I stopped, and he was so engrossed in his digging that he didn't even notice me.
"Good morning."
My words made him jump. He stood up quickly and looked at me as if I was some enemy which had attacked his private preserve in order to do him harm.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, his face twisted with suspicion. He was young, about sixteen, with golden blond hair which blew about as the wind raced across the beach. Wearing only a bathing suit, his torso had the gleam of youth. No fat or other ungainly deposits marred his body. His legs were long and brown and I could see his muscles tensing in the calves as if he was ready to take flight.
"I rent the cottage a few beaches from here, you know, the one with the blue roof."
He seemed to relax, squatting down once again to continue his digging.
"Are you looking for clams?"
"Yes," he said, in a manner that seemed to discourage any further conversation. "Any luck?"
He stood up and walked to a small rock which protruded from one of the breakers. Coming back, he held up a small canvas back. He opened the bag and extracted a clam.
"Look at this," he said proudly, "I got it last night, now I'm just digging for fun."
Thrusting the clam in my hand, he waited for my comments. When he saw that I was unfamiliar holding such a creature, he grasped it back and ripped open the shell with one powerful motion of his hand, and exposed the soft meat of the shell fish.
"Taste it."
But I did not answer, for the moment I saw that youth rip open the shell with his powerful but beautifully formed fingers, my whole body convulsed.
The same desire I had felt during those fateful moments in my office when the Spanish boy made one innocent gesture, now came back with an overwhelming force.
I wanted his hands to open me, I wanted those youthful hands to split apart my thighs just as they had split the shell of the clam. I wanted his fingers to pry open my legs and extract my cunt just as he was about to extract the soft meat of the clam. Suddenly, I became chilled. I wanted to leave the beach and return to the warmth of my cottage.
The boy was still standing there, a mocking smile on his lips.
"No," I said, finally, "you eat it."
He held the open shell to his lips. Then he sucked the meat off the shell. I watched his lips intently. Trembling, there was only one thing I wanted; to have his lips perch on my vagina and suck the life force from it as he sucked the meat from the clam.
I turned to walk away but then turned back, unable to leave the boy, unable to tear myself away while my body was so beset with lust.
"It is growing chilly," I said.
He looked at me, fairly glowing from his meal, still laboring under the youthful illusion that because he had caught his own meal he was somehow superior to the decadent world of the adult.
"Come to the cottage with me and we'll have some hot coffee, then you can continue your work."
"Sure," he answered smiling, completely innocent of the desire that was growing in my breast.
We walked toward the cottage, both of us silent, my thoughts always on the body striding so magnificently beside me. He swung his bag of clams in a cheerful manner as if there was nothing in the world which could harm him.
Once inside, I put the coffee on the fire. He sat in the small living room, off the kitchen, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
When the coffee was ready, I prepared two cups and brought it to him with some cookies. We sat there together, drinking the hot liquid, silently.
"Aren't you cold with just a bathing suit?" I asked him.
"No, you get used to the cold."
I watched his strong teeth bite into the brittle cookies. There was a precision, an arrogance about everything he did. His face was so open, as if there was nothing hidden, as if he had accumulated no scars from life which made him hesitate.
"I'll bet all the girls on the beach are crazy over you. You are a good looking boy."
It was such a stupid thing to say but it was all I could think of. He was not embarrassed; he accepted his good looks as a fact of life.
"Some are," he replied, "but I'm not really too interested in girls."
"Would you like some more coffee?"
"No," he replied.
Each moment he was in that room with me, my body grew more and more hysterical for a touch, for a caress, for some sign that I could have him.
My eyes moved to the slight bulge in his bathing suit which was caused by his cock. I closed my eyes for a moment, envisioning it resting there, quiet, latent, ready to be plucked.
I could not control myself any longer. Quickly, I moved down beside his knees. He looked at me, startled.
"Quiet," I whispered, "you have nothing to fear. My love will bring you great pleasure."
I touched his bare legs and let my fingers run up and down its sinews and muscles. Then my lips pressed against the flesh under his knee. Drinking in the sweat and saltwater flavor of his body I could scarcely keep from weeping with joy. There was a slight trembling in his legs which increased with each kiss, until those once powerful legs had dissolved into jelly-like acquiescence. I knew then he was mine. I knew then that he was ready to come with me on an erotic voyage which would bring me and him the joy which is beyond all description. "Wait here," I whispered.
Running swiftly to the dressing room, I removed my beach robe. When I returned I was naked. Across the room, he looked at me, his gaze burning flesh, his eyes boring into the center of my psyche.
Without hesitation I moved toward him.
"I am bringing you something. It is yours for as long as you want it. It is yours to do what you will, and it is dark and mysterious."
His eyes widened as he heard my words. Then I reached him. I pressed my naked cunt against his beautiful face, my hands grasping his neck and head and exerting all the strength my growing passion could muster.
"Bite me," I screamed.
His body froze. I could feel it tense under my hand. Then, a terrible pain shot through my body. His white teeth buried themselves into the juicy flesh of my vagina. They sunk into it with such force and with such hate and with such love that I could barely stand up under the onslaught.
"Yes, yes, bite deeper, remove every bit of hate in me, remove everything that is not love, remove all the days of suffering."
I kept babbling to him, a stream of words which had no meaning either to me or to him, a stream of words which were a function of the incredible love I bore for the boy.
He kept on biting. His muffled breathing seemed a dull echo in the cottage but those teeth, the teeth of youth ripped my cunt apart, torturing me and destroying me and bringing me the most treasured moments of ecstasy I have ever encountered. Now his hands went to my buttocks and as his teeth initiated my womanhood, his powerful fingers and nails brought blood from my white, quivering buttocks.
I could not stand anymore but I could not bear to leave those teeth. Finally, mustering all my courage, I broke away from him and stood a few feet away, my body alive and my eyes wild. I felt like some beast in the jungle who had experienced his first encounter with civilization, an encounter so sophisticated and so different that he would never be able to return to the native habitat.
The youth stood up and removed his bathing suit, standing in all his nakedness, the sun falling about him and the walls of the cottage seeming to bow to him.
I lay on the rug and held my arms up to him, calling for his cock, calling like a woman possessed for the most potent drug imaginable.
A second later he was on me. As he moved on me I caught a glimpse of that organ, swelling with passion, jutting from the silky, blond down of his thighs. His globes were like fuzzy peaches freshly fallen from some orchard.
I lifted my body to welcome the cock of youth and when it thrust deep inside my wet and bruised vagina, I sunk my teeth into his neck to thank him, to bless him for that almost divine penetration.
He began to move inside me, thrusting his organ deeper and deeper, sending my body into the most excruciating flights of passion. I could not get enough. My body rose and fell to meet each movement of his body.
I turned my buttocks against the rug to extract every inch of lust from his inexperienced cock. Then, suddenly, it grew to such proportion that I cried out. My own body turned into a kaleidoscope of shifting membranes.
We came together in one glorious moment, his seed, hot and sweet as life itself, pouring into me and joining with the juices of my orgasm.
Then it was over. A sudden chill descended over my body and soul. The boy got up and put his bathing suit on. He smiled at me: "Can I have another cup of coffee?"
His question disgusted me. Now, after the event was over, his childish looks repelled me. The only thing I wanted was for him to leave as quickly as possible.
"There is no more coffee," I replied.
The coldness in my voice shone through. He walked out the door without a word, the bag of clams swinging against his leg. I felt like running after him and cursing him and destroying his body.
Then, suddenly, I cared about nothing. Walking into the dressing room I placed a robe around me and fell on the bed. I could see the beach from the window and for a long time I lay there, watching the flight of the gulls and the waves.
I slept. It was late in the afternoon when I woke and though my body was bruised I felt like taking another walk. It was magnificent on the beach and I walked slowly looking for shells. Finding a few, I held them clasped in my hands. Then I heard a noise. I turned just in time to see a number of young boys running past me on the beach, their limbs flying, their faces gleaming with the health of the moment.
They took no notice of me but I experienced a fear which I cannot describe. It seemed to pervade every part of me. Right then, I knew I had to return to the city. I could not stay at the cottage another moment. Running back, I quickly packed my suitcase and left. Turning once as I closed the door, I spotted the two coffee cups still standing where we had used them. They were mute reminders of my situation. They were challenges to the bizarre compulsions which I felt I could never again control.
The most important item in this chapter, from a clinical point of view, is her desire to be bitten by the youth she seduced.
Her description of how she thrust her own vagina in the young man's face and commanded him: "Bite me"-is a most remarkable occurrence. On the face of it her command would seem to be only one aspect of the wish to dominate the children she seduces.
It is my contention, however, that we cannot look upon her statement-"Bite me"-as a command but a deeply felt plea to be hurt by the young man. In other words, she was begging the youth to inflict damage on her.
The importance of this is obvious. For the first time she has entered a relationship where she is willing to take a subservient role to the sexual partner. Her guilt over her actions is so great that she has to be punished, and by accepting punishment she is accepting her role as the one who is dominated rather than the one in control.
I would interpret this switch in roles to mean that she will be unable to repress her desires again. The reader will note that after the initial contact with the Spanish boy, she was able to act as if it had never happened. After this seduction of the beach boy, such actions will be impossible.
One proof that this is the case can be seen in how she flees from the cottage just because she has seen a number of young boys running on the beach. The barrier has been broken. She must either accept what she is and learn to cope with it, or be destroyed in the process. Her next encounter will be crucial in her ability to choose which direction her life and her passion will take.