Chapter 2
Mrs. Anne P-, 38 years old, married, blonde, 5'8", 125 lbs.
I never wanted to be a housewife, in the first place. I was going to be a ballerina and devote myself to Art and Culture. That was when I was a child, however, and before I'd started growing. By the time I was sixteen I was as tall as I am now and that's far too tall to fit into a ballet chorus. I suppose you could say that my hormones brought an end to my prospective career in the dance.
Those same hormones ensured that I would find another interest as soon as I gave up serious dancing. As long as I was serious about the ballet I gave no thought to boys, of course, but once that was over I discovered them and quickly decided that I'd been missing quite a bit.
"This is groovy!" I said to the boy I'd begun to date; we were sitting in his car and he was running his hands over the insides of my thighs. "I never knew I could feel like this!"
"There are better things waiting for you," he promised me, taking my hand and putting it over on his fly where his penis had risen up like a bar of iron and was threatening to tear out the front of his trousers. "Like this, for example!"
Naturally I knew that boys had something different in that part of their body; the dancing costumes were tight enough that all the girls could see those things hidden there. Some of the boys were very daring and didn't wear shorts or supporters or anything and you could see the outlines of their pricks perfectly well. Those were the boys who were playing up to Mr. Frederick, the teacher; he was a little gay and some of the boys were willing to play that game for a little extra attention.
"I've never felt one before," I murmured, which was true enough. "I like it! It's so warm, so firm and ... well, sexy!"
I might as well admit that I'd already determined to make up for what I'd lost by spending all those afternoons and evenings practicing my ballet steps. I knew enough to know roughly what to do, except that I hadn't figured on a boy like Teddy, the kid I was dating at the time. I mean, I'd heard enough to know that his penis was supposed to fit into my hole, the same one I'd fingered often enough to know that it could feel very good indeed. But what I didn't know was that Teddy was hooked on masturbation. It was a good thing, I suppose, because that way he never risked getting a girl pregnant, but I didn't know this at the time.
"Take it out," he told me. "Get it in your hand and do it to me. Then I'll do it yo you!"
"I'm trying," I told him, "but I'm not sure how this zipper works."
It ended up with him taking it out and giving it to me. I still didn't know what to do, exactly, but I loved the feel of that cock in my fingers so I just naturally started stroking him. At the same time he had his hand up higher under my dress and was poking his fingers in through the leg of my panties, getting them up into my slit.
"You're nice," he murmured, leaning back and giving me lots of room to work on his prick. "So wet and hot!"
I knew that; I'd spent enough time working on myself in the past to know just how hot and wet I could get when I was really worked up. And I was worked up then; just feeling of his prick was enough to make me giddy with lust. And the fact that we were parked only a block away from the high school, that made it all the better I really dug the idea of doing it there, so close to the place that represented repression and puritanism to me.
Well, the upshot of it was that Teddy came before I knew what was happening. You see, I didn't know that boys did things like that and when he started to come I didn't have the faintest idea what was happening, but I could tell that it was intensely exciting and pleasing to him.
"Oh, do it to me!" he groaned, twisting and turning as he shoved his cock up through my hands. "Grab it hard, Anne, work your fist! That's the way, baby, that's the way to make me shoot!"
And then, when it started swelling and pumping out that hot, sticky stuff, I really didn't know what to make of it. Fortunately for me I'd directed his prick away from me, or else I'd have been drenched with the stuff. I kept working my hands up and down his rod till it was over and then he revived a little and started doing it to me with his fingers. Oh, that was nice, sitting there in the gloom and feeling his fingers working through the leg of my panties! It didn't take long for him to strike gold and when I started coming it was lots better than it had ever been when I'd done it to myself.
"Ooohh! Dig in! Deeper! I love it!" I cried out, clamping my legs around his hand real hard and wiggling against him as the climax poured out of me. "Agghh! Oh, it's beautiful!"
But do you know something? I never got any more than a hand job from Teddy! Honest, I swear it! It was almost as though he had a fixation about sexual intercourse. There were times when I'd get to feeling very daring and I'd try to get him to put it in me, or maybe even just to let me rub the lips of my pussy across it, but he would never allow anything of the sort. No matter how much we might talk about doing it, when it came down to the actual situation he would never go through with it.
That experience with Teddy turned me off sex for a while. I mean, I still had this vague interest lurking in the back of my mind and to be sure I would occasionally use my fingers on myself when the urge hit me very strongly but I didn't go overboard, the way some girls do when they first begin to find out about sex and sexuality. I had three or four affairs between Teddy and the time I met Rex but they didn't amount to much, just a few rolls in bed and not much more than that. I realize now that I was not attracted to the type of boy who might have really made my body sing with sexual arousal most of those boys struck me as vulgar and pushy, not at all the sort of man that I wanted around me.
Probably this is why I was so attracted to Rex when I met him. It was in the spring of my sophomore year at college. He'd already finished his degree and he was working with the alumni office of the college. I felt very honored and thrilled that a relatively mature person like Rex would notice me, much less want to take me out dining and dancing. And he was such a refreshing change of pace, compared to the impetuous boys I'd previously encountered. I was a pushover for him and, as it happened, he was in a marrying mood, I suppose.
Rex was perfectly proper, as you'd expect from a man who managed to be slightly stuffy and pompous, even at the age of twenty-four! He didn't attempt to seduce me, which only heightened my interest in him, of course. I knew that he was excited about me; there were times when we kissed good night and I could feel his prick, hard and hot, rubbing against my belly. Naturally I didn't attempt anything brash with him. Rex simply isn't the kind of man that one makes advances toward!
The most vivid memory of our wedding night, and our first experience at making love together, was one of ... well, call it boredom. I do recall thinking, once he'd let go and shot his warm, lovely come all over my insides, that I liked that sensation and thinking that I could very easily get accustomed to it. I didn't get an orgasm, of course, but after he'd gone to sleep I crept into the bathroom and had myself a ball! I loved the feel of my pussy after he'd come in me, it was so wet and slippery, and as I bathed my fingers in that sticky stuff I began to get very excited. I had my orgasm in the bathroom, as I've since learned a large number of brides do on their wedding night. In fact, I was so turned on by it all that I went back to bed and started feeling him. His prick had slipped out the fly of his pajamas and after I'd pulled my nightie up around my waist I began fondling him.
"Huh?" he muttered, rolling over a little and halfway waking up. "Anne, is that you?"
"Mmmmm," I mumbled, pretending that I was nearly asleep too. "Darling, it was so good, you made me feel so wonderful!"
"Anne, what are you doing!" he said, getting more awake now. "You're handling me!"
I was, too! He was beside himself that night; I don't suppose any girl had ever reached out and gotten hold of his prick before. By the time he got fully awake, though, I'd gotten him hard again and I was next to him, kissing him and rubbing the head of his tool into my thighs and generally acting pretty sluttish.
"I can't help it!" I moaned, throwing one thigh over him and opening myself up completely to him. "I love it; I love you! Darling, you've got to fuck me again before I go to sleep!"
That's the way it was I had to rape him almost to get my second bout of sexual intercourse on our wedding night! I'm not sure even now but what he'd have started thinking about an anullment, except that I managed to make him believe that I was half asleep and didn't know what I was doing. He was really scandalized, even if he was turned on at the same time, and he couldn't help doing it to me again. This time I really let go and I didn't release the grip of my legs until I'd fucked myself into a nice, soothing climax. Rex was beside himself when I started coming; he just didn't know what to make of a woman who cried and moaned and carried on the way I do when I felt my womb clenching up into a tight, hard knot of passion and preparing to let go with a climax.
If this gives you the idea that my husband is something of an old maid about sex, then that's just the idea that slowly began to dawn on me. I suppose that he just doesn't have very much sex drive; there are men who are that way, I understand. Unfortunately I didn't know enough about myself or about sexuality at the time to head off what proved to be a very weak and listless marriage. And by the time I'd figured out what the real problem was the discrepancy between Rex's sex drive and mine, the difference between his prudish, restrained nature and my erotomania it was too late to do anything really constructive about it.
I used to play sex games with myself. You know, constructing really elaborate sex fantasies, going through the motions of doing all kinds of things with men, acting out some of my desires. I have a narrow bench that sits in front of my dressing table. Often I put a makeup mirror on that bench and straddle it; that gives me an excellent close-up view of my pussy. I can stand there for an hour at a time, fingering myself and playing with myself, working myself higher and higher, until finally I can stand it no longer and I ... well, I do it to myself. Usually when I'm doing this I carry on an extended monologue since the sound of my voice saying all those words is intensely exciting and helps me get more in the mood.
"Ah, you're not very big today," I'll say as I get over the bench and look down at the lips of my pussy. "But I know how to make you hard and hot and slippery! Yes, you're getting darker even now, just by my looking at you! Oh, I wish you were wrapped around a cock, a big, hard length of prick-meat that was rammed so far up my womb I'd be stuffed like a turkey!"
Gradually I start using my fingers, working the lips together and pulling them apart, and then I'd start running the tip of one finger over my clitoris too. It isn't long before I can feel the tensions building up inside. That's when I slack off a little I've always know that it's better if you don't do it right away; it's a lot more exciting if you put it off as long as possible and let your insides get knotted hard with lust. As soon as the pressure eases off a little, I'll go back to feeling of myself. Sometimes I'll work myself up to five or six peaks before I let go and really drive my fingers home.
"Just sit there and be patient," I might say to my pussy as I watch it get darker and darker, with the lips swelling out and getting slippery with that love-oil I generate when I'm aroused. "I'll give it to you soon enough but first I want to make sure that you're ready!"
When I'm finally so far gone that I can't hold it back any longer I'll use my ring and middle fingers, sliding them in as far as they'll go and using the other fingers to squeeze the lips together. I've read about women who can make it just fine by doing nothing more than stroking their clitoris, and then there are some who use hairbrush handles or candles or especially made items to do it to themselves, but I've always preferred to do it my own special way. Two fingers is just right; one isn't filling enough and more than two is uncomfortable.
Once I've driven those fingers home, I'll hold them in place with my other hand and then I'll work my hips forward and backward, just as if I were over a man and his prick were jutting up into the mouth of my womb. If I've done my preparations correctly and I always do, I make very sure of that! it usually doesn't take me more than a minute or two and I'm coming from head to foot. Occasionally I'll do it to myself twice in a row but usually one orgasm is enough to last me for a day or two.
I also get a lot of sensual enjoyment, though nothing approaching the pleasure of a climax, out of doing my ballet exercises. I still work out almost every day and it's a good thing, I suppose, because that's how I first became involved with Jim. Perhaps I should explain here that Jim was a Freshman at the college when we decided to rent out an extra space at the back of the house which we'd turned into a small efficiency apartment. He was a very nice kid, rather handsome and pretty quiet. Or so he seemed when we rented him the apartment. Rex thought it up himself; he liked the idea of a little extra income and also, since he was so frequently gone on fund raising trips he thought it would be better if I weren't entirely alone.
Anyway, to get to the point, I was doing my loosening up exercises one morning. Rex was out of town; it was about three weeks after Jim had taken the apartment. I looked up from a series of twists and Jim was looking in through the window. I smiled and he smiled back, then he made a motion as if he wanted to say something. I went around to the back door and let him in. Whatever it was that he wanted to tell me, it wasn't important. In fact he was simply using it as an excuse to get in so he could make advances to me.
Imagine, me thirty-two years old this was six years ago and him only seventeen, and he was actually making advances to me! I was so astounded by it all that at first I couldn't believe that he was sincere. I mean, I couldn't even believe that it was happening! But he persisted and, well, I began to feel flattered.
"I never knew that you had so good a figure," he told me. "That leotard really shows you off to perfection."
"It's just an old thing," I said, almost blushing like a schoolgirl. "It's even got holes in it."
It did, too; there was one that I hadn't remembered until I'd said that. It was right in the crotch and if he'd been standing in just the right position he could probably have stolen a glimpse of my pussy.
"I've always liked going out with girls who were athletic," he said. "When their bodies are supple and lithe, it makes it a lot more interesting."
By this time he'd raised a tremendous erection and he wasn't a bit bashful about showing it off, either. I could see it, outlined in the front of his jeans; it looked immense, far larger than Rex's.
"It looks as though you yourself could do a lot to make it interesting, I said, deliberately looking at the bulge of his prick.
Well, that did it. He came over to me and we kissed. It had been years since I'd been kissed so passionately. Rex was never much of a man for French kissing and for a moment I found it unusual, having a tongue playing around in my mouth. But then I felt my body begin tingling all over and I began responding. I pressed my breasts into him and wiggled my pussy against him, rubbing it over that tremendous bulge and letting him know that I was just as interested as he was.
We went into a guest bedroom and I took my leotard off. I felt a surge of erotic power running through me when he ran his eyes over my naked body; it felt as though he was raping me with his eyes! He undressed down to his shorts and I removed it, falling to my knees so I could pull them down around his feet. His prick sprang free and almost hit me in the face.
"Take it," he whispered, pulling the foreskin back and exposing the head. "Go down on me!"
Even though I'd never heard that phrase, "going down on a person", I could tell what he meant and I couldn't help putting my mouth over his prick. That was the first time I'd ever done that to a man, do you believe that? Rex would never have allowed me to do so daring a thing and the men I'd known before him had all been too eager to fuck me, so I'd missed out on that phase of sex play. My lips and tongue naturally went to that big ridge running around the edge of his prick's head and I began caressing it. Mmmmm, he felt good in my mouth! That satin-smooth head, so big and warm, that thick shaft, they made me want sex more that ever! The idea of taking him in my mouth, knowing that he had probably been in other women's cunts and he would soon be in mine, that really thrilled me too.
I didn't think, at first, about what would happen if he kept it in my mouth. But when I realized that if I didn't stop he would shoot his sperm into my throat, I had to make a decision. I'd never thought about letting a man do that to me but now I gave it some thought. The idea made me a little queasy, almost sick, but it also made me really hot and excited. I guess you could say that my attitude was ambivalent.
"Ugghh!" he groaned, holding my head between his hands and working his prick in and out, shoving the head almost down my throat. "Oh, it's good, you suck like an angel!"
I could never convince him that I hadn't sucked a man before, not after that first time. I kept working my mouth, squeezing his cock with my tongue and forcing it against the roof of my mouth, and it wasn't long until he gave that familiar shudder and shoved it in as far as he could go.
"Agghh!" he grunted. "Oohh, you've got it now!"
"Mmmmm! Glubb!" I answered, twisting my mouth furiously and working him with my hands in an effort to make him come even more strongly.
He let go with a flood of come. I'd gotten used to the way Rex orgasmed you know, a few twitches, a feeble spurt or two of semen and then a few dribbles, followed by an immediate loss of the erection. He'd actually gotten to the point where, if I didn't climax before him, he was so soft after that it wouldn't stay in me long enough for me to get one by working myself against him. Jim was entirely different, thank God. He came and came until I was sure he'd exhaust his balls. Over and over he pumped great, scalding wads of come into my throat. They were strong discharges too I mean, it really poured out of him!
That really affected me deeply, feeling it happen so violently to him. The strength and quantity of his climax' made me ten times more excited, so much so that I almost had a sympathetic orgasm of my own. I think that if I'd known what to expect I could have come myself, without even touching my pussy; just the feeling of his prick going off in my mouth and drenching my throat with that hot, thick, salty cream was fantastically exciting.
And, wonder of wonders, nothing happened to his cock after he'd come! I couldn't believe that it was still hard but it didn't seem to change one bit. The thing was still the same consistency as iron and he had a lot more ideas about using it too!
"You can't be serious," I said after I'd swallowed the last of his come. "You just did it!"
"Yeah, but there's lots more," he said, pushing me over onto my back and feeling between my legs. "This pussy of yours needs a treatment too! And I never stop at the first come; I like to do it two or three times at least!"
"Are ... are you going to fuck me?" I asked, unable to believe my good luck. "Right now? After coming the way you did?"
"Sure I am," he insisted. "You want it, don't you?"
"Oh, do I ever! I'm burning up, I want it so badly! Oh, give it to me, Jim; give it all to me!"
"Put it in for me, will you? I like for a girl to handle my cock!"
"I like to hear you say things like that," I whispered as I reached down between us and took his prick in my hands so I could rub it over every part of my pussy. "Words like cock, prick, cunt, pussy, come, fuck, all those sex words, they really make me want it more than ever!"
"Want what?" he asked, falling into my game.
"They make me want to get my pussy lips around this cock of yours and fuck until we're both coming like mad! There, I said, it, didn't I?"
"You sure did," he told me. "Now do it!"
I did it, fitting his prick into the mouth of my cunt and then wrapping him up in my arms and legs so I could press myself against him as much as possible. I started coming immediately, as soon as I felt his big prick open the mouth of my cunt and go inside me.
"Annngghh! Ooohh!" I groaned. "I'm coming already! Do it to me, Jim, fuck my hot prick-loving cunt! Aiiee! Owwweee!"
He started working that rod back and forth in me as fast as he could. Oh, I was so hot; the walls of my cunt had nearly grown together, I was so swelled up inside! And he just ripped his way into me! Over and over, driving it deeper every stroke and making me come like I'd never come before. I think I came twice, or maybe it was just one super-long climax, before he got his. Anyway, when I felt his cock begin pumping out another flood of hot man-juice I went wild! I completely lost control of myself and everything dissolved into a red blur of lust.
"Fuck! Fuck! Shoot! Come!" I cried out, holding onto him and driving my loins up against him, working my cunt up and down the length of his prick as he continued to squirt hot cream into me. "More! I want more of your dick! Agghh!"
"Ooohh! You're killing me; you're tearing my cock off!" he groaned, unable to move as I continued to fuck him. "Oh, baby, you're wonderful!"
That started it off and from then until the day he graduated I don't think we missed many opportunities to make love. Oh, it wasn't love we were making; we were just fucking each other like a pair of wild animals. He'd never had a girl who wanted it as much as I, he said, and I'd never had anyone who could make me want it so. He was the first who ever went down on me, you know, and once I found out that this was at least as good as having a prick in me, I became avid for more of it. Invariably we'd suck each other sometimes before the fuck, sometimes after it and I came to love the taste and feel of a prick after it had fucked me silly.
There have been three boys in the apartment after Jim and all of them have proved to be quite as enjoyable as he was. Some of them were more eager, some were less, but in every case they've fallen into an affair with me. I've learned that you cannot beat a nice, energetic college boy as a lover. They're so durable, they just never lose their erections, almost, and they're always so willing to learn more, if they don't know it all already! I especially enjoy sucking them they come so strongly, they ejaculate so furiously! I suppose that's the best part of it all, feeling them shoot out great clouds of hot sperm and taking it in my mouth. That and the delicious joy of introducing them to sex with a mature, erotic woman who loves every aspect of sexuality, those are the most exciting and satisfying parts of my experiences.
Anne's closing words are most instructive and give us one of the keys to her obsessive interest in younger men. The reader will recall that Anne and Rex had no children. We believe that she conceived of herself as a mother-figure to these young men and that she saw herself as an instructress in sexual arts, taking a special pleasure in introducing relatively naive lads to a fuller understanding of sexual pleasure. This barely-suppressed maternal longing, together with another facet of her relationship with her husband to be examined in a moment, help to explain Anne's strange fascination with younger males.
This facet has to do with the sexual relations between Anne and her husband. As she made quite clear, her sex drive far exceeded his and she often failed to derive anything like complete satisfaction from the infrequent acts of sexual intercourse they attempted. Furthermore, the failure of these acts to result in conception contributed to her problem. As Erik Erikson has pointed out, "the sex act, biologically speaking, is the procreative act, and there is an element of psychobiological dissatisfaction in any sexual situation not favorable in the long run to procreative consummation and care ... In the woman, no doubt, this dissatisfaction plays a much greater role, owing to her deeper engagement, physiologically and emotionally, in the sex act as the first step in a procreative commitment...." (Quoted in Garth Brandtson, Sex Between the Younger and the Older, Los Angeles, 1971, p. 125.) These two elements frustration and deprivation are sufficient to explain Anne's case.