Chapter 8
(Name: Bonnie A. Age: Twenty-nine. Place of Residence: New York City. Occupation: Actress.)
Nothing turns out the way you want it to-or even a pale copy of childhood ambition. I yearned to become an actress and I became one. But what kind of actress am I? I make all my money acting in stupid little commercials-talking about deodorants and aspirin and automobiles. Sure, the money is very good but there isn't any artistry. Once in a while I get a part in some small off-Broadway show which lasts about five weeks.
I'm like a million other women; my whole life is lived around a fantasy. But in my case-the fantasy is sexual-and it puts me outside the fence-beyond the normal.
I used to hide it and be ashamed of it and go to shrinks and other doctors. But they couldn't cure me-and I know now that I'll never be cured.
It started when I was fifteen. Nothing complicated about it. I discovered the movies. I became obsessed with movies. I cut school day after day and snuck into all the movies in my neighborhood, sitting there for hours as the fantastic pictures of what Hollywood considered reality flashed by me. It was my religion and my life.
One afternoon-a Friday-there was a Western playing with Gary Cooper. I remember sitting way down front, my hands dipping into the butter soaked popcorn. My feet were, as usual, stretched on the seat in front of me. Halfway through the movie I heard somebody in the aisle beside me. It was the usher-a tall, young man.
"Take your feet off the seat," he said, menacingly, shining his flashlight into my face. I took my feet down but he didn't go away-instead-he sat down beside me. I didn't know what to do but then I began to watch the picture again and the closeness of him no longer mattered.
Suddenly, his fingers were on my knee. Tensing, I clutched the arms of the seat. His hands slid between my knees and pushed them apart. I was a virgin and I didn't know anything about sex.
He rubbed my silk panties until I felt myself become hot and wet.
"Go away," I begged, my eyes still on the screen in front of me.
His answer was the whole hand slipping into my panties, and then I felt a man's fingers graze at my vaginal lips, pinching me and stroking me until I began to squirm on the seat. I wanted to scream, to yell, to stand on my seat and shout it out to the people who sat with me in darkness.
Then the wet cunt lips spread and his finger slipped into the warm maw. I closed my eyes, blotting out the scream, and moaned.
It was going all the way in and I felt his nail scrape at the warm juices. There was something stopping him-something suddenly looming there-and then-a shiver of pain and his finger pierced my hymen. I was plucked-and I felt a tiny trickle of blood stain the silk undergarment. He slid his finger out and put his tongue into my ear.
My eyes were no longer accepting the images on the screen. I felt the breath of air in my ear and I twisted my face away from him. It had been so sudden. It had happened so fast and so expertly that I could still feel the finger-I could still sense the nail scraping.
Then his hand was around my neck. I tensed but felt my face being pulled down-and down-no matter how hard I struggled. It was dark, pitch dark, and my eyes were still half-blinded by the brilliant screen.
I felt something hard and alive against my cheek. I shivered. He pulled me down further and my lips touched it. I knew, deep inside me I knew. I felt my heart skip a beat and then his hands went away from my neck.
It was no use. Something inside of me was opening my lips. The tongue crept out and began to dance around the shaft. And then it touched-my tongue spread the saliva over the erect, quivering cock. I thrust my hands forward and dug into the darkness until I found his globes. They fell into my palms and I stroked them gently with my tongue, moving upwards, always upwards, until there was only the pulsing maleness-the cock of darkness-and I licked every violent inch.
I opened my mouth wide and let it sink into my virgin mouth. Gently, I closed my teeth over the shaft and I heard the stranger moan.
I had to suck ... without thinking ... a compulsion from inside of me. I sucked until he was pressed against his seat and it was a massive torch in my wet, willing mouth.
I could feel his blood pounding in his cock-I could feel every inch of it-alive-real. He rammed it deep into my mouth and lifted himself off the seat. I was choking but I held on.
Then the seed-warm, delicious, vital, and I threw my head back and laughed as the liquid caressed my throat. An instant later he was gone and the screen came back in all its splendor.
That was when I was fifteen years old. As a result of that incident-I didn't step into a movie house until I was twenty-five. Yes, almost ten years of abstinence from the screen. I remember the precise day I returned because it was also the day I began my strange trysts; the day that my needs became so strong and so perverse that I could no longer bottle them in.
By the age of twenty-five, only four years ago, I was already making money as an actress on a wide series of commercials. I was still desperate to get into the theatre and my mornings were spent auditioning for all kinds of roles. And each audition was more and more depressing.
On that fateful day, I had been auditioning for a role in an off-Broadway production of Hamlet. They needed an Ophelia and it had always been my lifelong ambition to act the role. There were literally hundreds of young actresses in the auditorium and the producers gave each of us a number as if it was a supermarket.
When my number was called, I walked to the stage and was handed a mimeographed script where certain parts were pencilled under. I began to read and about five minutes later I heard a voice in front of me call out:
"Thank you very much. We have your name and number and we'll let you know."
I realized there was no chance at all. Walking out in the street, my stomach felt sick and I was almost overwhelmed by depression. There seemed no end to those auditions, to those disappointments.
I started to walk uptown, feeling totally destroyed, feeling that I would be stuck forever in the ludicrous and demeaning world of TV commercials. Slowly, as my limbs stretched, I began to feel better. I began to feel the blood circulate and my legs and arms recover their spring. There would be other auditions, I realized, and there was no reason for despair.
Suddenly, I was in front of a movie that was playing two old Humphrey Bogart pictures. It was one of those arty movie houses, catering to film buffs. I stopped and felt myself shaking with the need to enter that dark womb-like structure again. It had been so long; ten years. I felt myself drawn to the small glass cage where the tickets were being sold, but I also felt a sense of doom-as if by going in I was returning to a portion of my life that was horrible.
Finally, I made my decision and walked inside. The darkness was overwhelming and I stood at the foot of the aisle waiting for my eyes to become used to the dark.
Gradually, I could make out the seats and the few people scattered in the aisles. I walked down and seated myself in the front, just as I used to do when I was a child. The movie began to seep into my consciousness, to dance in front of my eyes until I was lost in the magic of the screen.
Then, suddenly, I heard movement. I saw an usher walk down the aisle, flashlight in hand. The memory of that event ten years ago was overwhelming. I was a fifteen year old child again and the usher was a mature, thrusting male. Sweat stood out on my forehead. He came closer and closer and finally passed me by.
I started to laugh. He was just a boy, a young boy, and then I realized how stupid my fears were. I was twenty-five years old. I was the adult and he was the child. I relaxed in my seat and began to enjoy the movie.
But it was not that simple. A thousand conflicting memories and feelings were splintering me. I kept squirming on my seat, desperately trying to watch the movie, but also trying to control the strange states of mind and body that were becoming apparent to me.
The usher passed again-wearing those ludicrous long capes. I strained in the darkness to see his face; he was so young. And I remembered that usher only ten years ago-but he, too, had been young.
"Wait," I suddenly called out in the darkness and then bit my lip until it bled because I had wanted to remain silent.
The usher ambled over and stood by my seat. He had the smell of starched wool and used clothing and a musty sort of male odor. In the dark, smells are everything.
"What's the matter?" he asked, flashing the light on the floor in front of me.
"Nothing."
"Didn't you call out?"
"Yes."
He stood there, not knowing how to react. I closed my eyes and wished he could leave. But he just stood there and something inside of me was acting.
"Sit down for a moment," I whispered.
"I'm working."
"Just a moment-please."
He flicked off the light switch and eased himself into the chair next to me. On the screen, Bogart was speaking to his woman, that upper lip curled in erotic contempt. The boy was nervous and I could tell he was sorry he had sat down. The years seemed to fade away and I remembered that usher's finger and then the taste of his shaft as it had pounded in my mouth.
"I have to go," he said.
"No, wait."
My voice was desperate. The boy couldn't go. I had to hold him there, to keep him by my side. There was something about his nearness which I needed to expunge all those other memories.
Bogart spoke again and I shivered. My hands moved down into my lap, almost without thinking. As the actor spoke his lines, I felt my fingers crawling under my dress and then slipping the silk undergarment off my legs until it fluttered to the floor. I was aghast at what I had done but I couldn't retract the act. My warm ass slid back and forth over the leather seat. The boy knew something had happened but he wasn't sure. "Don't go," I whispered.
I took his hand and he fought me-but I brought it into my naked lap and I felt him shiver as he felt the jungle of my crotch.
"It's yours, it's yours," I whispered, suddenly and totally desperate for love-more desperate than I had ever been in my life. I needed that child-with his ludicrous cape and his flashlight.
He pulled his hand away and threw his eyes to the screen where Bogart was running through some alley, pursued by the villains.
"My alley, here is my alley," I whispered.
I was tense in my seat-grinding my buttocks against the leather seat-my whole body caught up in a frenzy of desire that I had never experienced before.
Suddenly, I remembered that incident ten years ago and the hands around the back of my neck-pulling me to the shaft. I reached over and slipped my hands around his neck. I could feel the boy tense his muscles.
Whispering to him with all the passion I could muster, I pulled his head slowly toward my wet, quivering crotch. He resisted but it was too late. He had caught the scent of my womanhood and he had touched the silken jungle.
The face kept coming-and coming-an inch at a time-an inch at a time toward the center of my being. I began to weep as he approached and the tears blinded Bogart from my sight.
Suddenly, the boy's face was buried in my crotch-his whole face-nose and eyes and ears and mouth caught up in the swirl of crotch hairs-the jungle of love which began to choke him and cover him with glory.
I lifted my buttocks off the seat-ever so slightly-and then I felt his mouth against my cunt lips-searching for the treasured opening.
I suppressed a moan and spread my thighs. He kissed my cunt and I felt myself losing consciousness. I fought to remain calm, to enjoy each waking moment.
He was burrowing like a young animal, grating my crotch with his desperate face. I closed my legs around the side of his head and a second later he slid his tongue into the open maw. I opened my mouth in shock. The walls of my cunt shuddered and forced the tongue to go deeper.
In the darkness, pierced only by the blazing screen, I felt the tipped fury drive deep. It was a virgin tongue and it was swollen with the shock of entry. He was driving deep-lancing the cunt walls-reveling and turning into the sudden beauty of the open maw.
I could feel his whole body shuddering. I could feel his face pushing into the crotch so that his tongue could go deeper and deeper. And then the thrusts stopped and the tongue began to twist and turn slowly until I was crying and moaning with joy. I was growing close to the end-my vaginal lips were palpitating and the juices were moving down.
A single thrust more and the tongue pierced home. I felt the orgasm flow over me in terrible but beautiful waves and then my naked ass slumped against the seat.
That evening I spent in carefully and honestly trying to understand what I had done. Of course, in the past I had engaged in mutual oral sex with men, but never had it been so beautiful and so compelling. But that fact paled before the fact of the child; it was a child I had seduced. It was a child who I had debauched. I remembered the thrill of his young tongue sliding in-always deeper, and even at night, hours after the act, I felt myself shivering with lust.
Keep away from the movies. Yes, that was the lesson I tried to teach myself. I had stayed away for ten years and then one weakening had hurt me-one weakening had opened up a strange and frightening spectacle concerning my sexuality.
Days, weeks, months passed and I kept my vow. Once again I threw myself into looking for a good acting assignment; at the same time doing better and better at the commercials. I was really making a lot of money for the first time in my life.
At acting class, one afternoon, I met a young actor who had come in from the coast. We went out for some drinks together and an hour later I was in his apartment. I wanted to be there-I wanted somehow to nip my growing pervision in the bud-to destroy the child syndrome and the movie syndrome with one injection of cock.
The actor didn't waste much time. I was sitting on the couch and sipping a drink when he slid beside me and began to unbutton the blouse. He laughed, dipped his tongue in the whiskey, and then kissed my naked nipples.
I placed the glass down and gave myself to him in a desperation borne of fear. I wanted to be purged. I thrust my whole breast into his mouth and squirmed as he bit. I pulled it out and my tongue followed his own tongue until they were dancing together in his mouth. On the sofa-stretched out-my whole body yearning to be penetrated.
He was thorough and experienced. He kissed me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head-licking and nibbling me everywhere until I was a trembling mass of willing flesh.
Then he straddled me and gave me his globes to lick. I desperately covered them with kisses, nibbling at the scrotum until he moaned. I had to be cured. I had to forget everything; to show myself that there was a bedrock of normalcy about me.
He pushed my mouth away. I could see the giant cock, shivering, every inch pulsing with blood, every muscle and artery dancing along the length.
He entered me brutally and furiously and I arched my body to receive the thrust. Silence for a moment as it slowly slid past the wet cunt gates and then it exploded in fury.
I was being driven into the fabric until I could feel the steel springs. I was being driven-scorched by the burning cock tip which was going for my womb. It happened too fast and too brutally and all I could do was hang on and lift my buttocks in his rhythm. He was muttering and cursing as he plucked my body and the cock swelled inside me until I felt myself bursting. Then he changed the rhythm and drove slow but deep-savoring each moment-fucking me as if I was the last body he would ever have. I was weeping and crying with joy as he continued and my body was opening like a flower; covering his shaft with my most intimate juices.
Then-a moment of pause-a moment where cock and cunt engaged in frictionless love-where I felt the silken walls of my nest wrap themselves trembling around the intruder.
A sudden violent thrust and the cock exploded-pouring the semen into me. He withdrew it and let the seed bubble from his tip onto my mouth and I sucked the fluid in; straining to absorb every drop.
"Well?" he asked, laughing.
"Well what?" I retorted, sharply.
"You didn't make it?"
"No, you came too soon."
He laughed again and then spread my legs and kissed my cunt into orgasm, sitting back and watching me as I went over the top.
"Feel better?" he asked.
"Much better."
"Now we can talk about acting."
So we spent the next few hours talking about our careers and our disappointments. He had gotten a lot of work in Hollywood but he found it sterile and wanted to get back to the legitimate stage.
"It isn't easy," I counseled him, remembering the hundred futile auditions.
"I'm good," he said, softly.
"And I, too," I retorted sharply.
We made love again and afterwards I went home. Two days later he called. He wanted to see me again. I had thought that just the sound of his voice would be enough to make me scurry over. But, I found myself saying no.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing."
"Didn't you like it?"
"Yes, I did."
"Then why?"
I couldn't answer his question. There was something which had made me stop-something in my subconscious that was making me avoid him.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" he shouted at me over the phone.
"Don't yell at me," I pleaded. I was very close to tears and I was truly afraid of the strange turn my psyche had taken.
"Do you know what you are? You're a cock-teaser. A real old-fashioned cock-teaser."
He hung up the phone with a brutal thud. I was trembling all over as if I had made the most important journey of my life. Why had I refused him? Why had I refrained from rushing over? He had been a great lover and I had thought I wanted more-but when the moment came for me to accept-I had crept into my shell.
For a long time I sat by the phone, trying to muster the courage to call him again. But each time my hand went to the phone and picked it up, it felt like it was on fire. Finally, I crawled into bed and tried to sleep. But it was no use-even with three sleeping pills. My body was alive with a million vibrations and thoughts. Desperate for some peace of mind, I dressed and went down for a walk. It was not the hour to go walking alone-the streets were dark and deserted. But, strangely enough, I felt no fear-none at all. I needed the wildness, the danger, anything that would make things clear to me.
Once again, I found myself in front of a movie marquee-it was one of those movies with midnight shows. I huddled in one corner, trying desperately to stem the tide of desire that was flowing through me.
Why did it affect me like that? Why did just standing in front of a cinema make my body tremble and dance? I kept saying to myself, in desperate whispers that I would not go in-that I would withstand the blandishments.
How futile it was! How utterly and totally futile! I was a prisoner of my own desires, a slave to my physical and psychological needs. Never did I know in such certain terms that a human being cannot control the desires which have surfaced.
With trembling hands I paid the admission price and hesitated for just a moment as the doorman ripped my ticket in half and gave me my mutilated stub. In front of me was darkness and the flickering screen, and behind me, the lights of the city-the normal way. It was too late. I walked slowly into the cavernous darkness.
There was a war movie playing and the sounds of rifles and screams rent my eardrums. I stumbled into a rear seat and folded my arms about my body-suddenly chilled beyond belief. I closed my eyes to avoid the blood on the screen. I couldn't relax. I couldn't be comfortable in the seat.
Then I saw the boy. He was walking up and down the aisle, peering and probing with his flashlight to make sure that the assorted derelicts were not using the admission price to secure for themselves a cheap hotel-a place to sleep all night.
A second later the light flashed on me and held there until I turned my eyes away.
"Sorry," he said.
He started to walk away and I cried out desperately, "Water."
He turned back.
"Are you sick?"
"Yes, just a little water, will you please?"
He came back five minutes later and held the flashlight steady as I drained the cup.
"Are you better now?"
"My head, I have a splitting pain."
"Maybe you better go home. The manager will give you your money back."
"Home?" I sighed, and laughed.
He stood there-not knowing what to do-and the longer he stood the more excited I became. I could smell his maleness, his young joy, and closing my eyes, I could sense that weapon which lay quiet but crouching between his legs. A terrible noise of cannon firing came from the screen.
"Just stay for a moment," I begged.
How could I withstand him? How could I keep myself from assaulting him. The darkness of the movie was like a thousand joyous cocks-slithering through my body.
"I feel as if I'm going to die," I whispered.
It was so strange. Immediately I had been caught up in the same pattern. There had been no thinking or planning. I had just begun to ask his help-to exhibit my need. He couldn't resist me-that I could tell.
"You won't die, lady," he said.
"How do you know? What do you know about me? Please, sit by me. Hold my hand. I beg you."
He was torn by his innocent need to help and the knowledge that he could lose his job if he was caught sitting down.
"I can't, lady, please."
"For a moment-for only a moment."
My voice was pained and seductive. I heard him sigh once and I knew I had won.
"O.K.-but only for a minute-you'll be all right, you're just a little hysterical."
"Yes, hysterical," I muttered, parroting his words.
His nearness made my skin crawl. I closed my eyes and then opened them. On the screen were rifles; rifles pointed, rifles shooting. I wanted the rifle between his legs. A shudder spread through my body as I knew what I was about to do. My hand rested on his knee.
"Look, lady," he laughed nervously.
"Be quiet, I beg you, be quiet," I whispered, from the depths of my need.
He must have recognized something. He must have recognized some element in my voice that told him he should be still. Even a child knows the danger signals.
Quickly, before he could protest, I slipped down between his legs and nestled my body between his knees. He looked around with a mixture of fear and astonishment.
The pants opened and I reached in and pulled his flesh out with my trembling fingers-all his flesh-the limpid cock and the succulent young globes which pulsed in his scrotum. I licked him under the scrotum, tasting his sweat. His whole body trembled and I took both of his globes into my mouth and sucked. I couldn't get enough. I wanted to rip them from his body and chew them. I covered them with saliva and love and then let them slip out. The cock was beginning to pulse. He was moaning softly and squirming in his seat. I shaped my mouth round and slowly slid my lips over the tip. It travelled inside-not quickly-savoring each kiss-savoring each subtle manipulation of my mouth. I wanted every inch of that young cock. I wanted all he could give me. When it was all the way in-so far that it was grazing the beginning of my throat-I began to slide my lips back and forth over it-feeling the delicate play of the muscles-feeling the pounding flesh. Behind me, the screen exploded in a raging battle but I kept the gentleness of my love intact.
I began to nibble at the tip-to tweak the tight flesh-and his hands tightened around my neck. He was being shattered. His young manhood had never felt anything like the love I was giving him. My mouth was velvet and fire-soothing and exciting-letting the tongue drive him almost berserk with lust.
And then I let it slide out-slowly, so I could remember the exquisite taste of every inch.
"No more," he whispered, his voice trembling.
I laughed and buried my face under the cock, in the warm sweet scrotum, with the succulent globes bouncing against my face.
My fingers were ripping at my clothes, like a crouching animal trying to get out of a trap. My crotch was bare and I kicked the undergarments away.
Holding the cock with both hands, I crawled between his knees, half-standing and half-crouching-and then drove the living shaft into my cunt-deep and true. The darkness seemed to reel about me and the screen was exploding its images in my ear. I drove it all the way in and then let go. We were impaled together. I could see the fear in his eyes as my cunt sucked his maleness up and the walls began to lap at his shaft.
I began to grind on his shaft-to twist my body so that every inch of his splendor would be driven home. I was like a wildwoman-gyrating on his cock until he slipped down on the seat and slipped his hand under my ass-grabbing my naked buttocks and squeezing them as he was fucked. I couldn't stop-I was a demon on a burning brand-I was a velvet cunt being burned dry by the fire-tipped cock.
Faster and faster, his fingers spreading my buttocks as I whirled-and then-falling all the way so that I was in his lap and his cock was all the way in me, straight-up, to the womb.
I bent forward and kissed him softly on the lips and then I made one more try-lifting myself up and falling heavily to his cock-guarded lap. Deep and true the spear went and the seed exploded inside me. A second later I went over the top and I slipped off his lap onto the floor. All was darkness again and only the sound from the movie reached me. I heard him fumbling with his pants and then he was gone.
Moments later I was outside-running toward home-running toward safety. I fell onto the bed and cried for an hour. Then I dried my eyes and a hardness came over me. I had accepted my fate.
Dr. Peggy Ayer, one of the foremost scholars in the field of psycho-sexual disturbances among women, has stated in her brilliant monograph THE AETIOLOGY OF THE YOUNG BOY AS OBJECT CHOICE (Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Mass. 1957) that:
"Those women who intersperse their normal sexuality with the object-choice of an immature male ... are, almost always, the product of homes where one or both parents have been unable to achieve orgasm through normal genital means. Furthermore, in the now famous study conducted by the Michigan Social Service Center in 1951, it was found that such parents usually allowed the child to, at one time or another, witness the coital scene." (P-74)
We are unable to corroborate her finding using this case because we have no information about the subject's parents. Yet, Dr. Ayer's latter thought about witnessing the coital scene is an important peg in our analysis.
Bonnie's total commitment to darkness as the scene of her erotic acts, must have its source in her witnessing of the coital scene.
At one time in her life, in early childhood, she must have seen sexual acts between her parents. It disturbed her so deeply that the only way for her to have erotic pleasure in the future was in total darkness-hence her" obsession with the movies.
Her appetite for young boys who work in those movies is a direct result of having seen what Freud called "the primal scene."
It was impossible for her to have gratifying relationships with mature men for that would bring back the memory of her father copulating with her mother. Since the unresolved Oedipal complex-her own desire to sleep with her father-is the most powerful force in her life-the young boy, in the darkness, remains the surest and the most guilt free possibility for her.
As to the choice of the movies as the seat of erotic fancy-this is quite obscure-since there are many other areas which would ensure a comparable darkness. We cannot understand this unless we have further information as to her past.