Case History 3
Julie V. was a very pretty fourteen-year-old with the most magnificent pair of deep brown eyes. There was something about those eyes, however, which indicated that she trusted absolutely no-one.
She was brought in by her mother, a well-dressed, very aggressive woman in her early forties.
"Doctor," the mother said, "it's just unspeakable what I've found Julie doing. She'll have to really be straightened out, and the sooner the better."
"I'm not sure that I'm in the straightening-out business, Mrs. V., " I said.
"You're a clinical psychologist, aren't you. Isn't that what you are supposed to do? Fix up people so that they won't go and do shameful things any more?"
"I try and help people. Make them happier...."
"And people who do shameful things aren't happy, right? And that means that you have to fix them up."
Mrs. V. was one of those people who are so sealed off in their own little egotistical world that they make a decision as to what another person is going to be like, and then impose this impression on reality by carrying on both sides of the conversation, if necessary. Mrs. V. had decided that the doctor was going to fix her daughter up, and as far as she was concerned, that was all that there was to the matter.
I could, of course, have deflated Mrs. V.'s aggressiveness if I had wanted to, but I did not for two reasons. In the first place, scoring points like that is rather childish, and secondly, I could well imagine that the daughter of such a woman might have some very substantial psychological problems. If I antagonized Mrs. V. needlessly, she might well leave and go in search of some psychologist or psychiatrist who would agree with her that the only real problem was that of getting her daughter to follow accepted norms of behavior. If you shop around long enough, you can find almost anything. It was my hope that I might actually be able to do the child some good if the mother was willing to entrust her to my attentions.
"Well, Mrs. V., " I said, "I trust you understand that I can make no guarantees, and that the strictest confidentiality will have to be maintained."
Many parents rather bridle at that, despite the fact that without the patient being assured of the most complete confidentiality, no progress at all is possible. But Mrs. V. did not blanch. I suspected that she felt that whenever she wanted to find out what I had learned, she could simply use her overbearing personality to get me to reveal it. That is not, of course, how things turned out.
"Now, the reason I've brought her here is because of the perfectly filthy things that she does. Just the other day, I walked in on her, and she was ... having sexual relations with her pet dog!"
Mrs. V. stared at me with a look that suggested that she expected me to be every bit as overcome with disgust at the idea as she was. When my face showed no signs of shock or horror, I thought that I noticed a little flicker of satisfaction in the deep brown eyes of her daughter.
"The thing is, Mrs. V., that I will have to learn all the details from your daughter herself. That is how this sort of thing works."
"Oh, very well," Mrs. V. said petulantly. I explained to her that if she would go out for a walk or something, I could use the remainder of the hour to begin work with Julie. The mother's irritation at not being able to participate more was eased by the thought that the "fixing up" that she so urgently wanted for her daughter was going to begin right away.
I did not, of course, have any intention of conducting the therapy along those lines which Mrs. V. chose to dictate. My only concern was the welfare of the patient.
As soon as Mrs. V. left, her daughter looked at me with those big brown eyes and it look on her face could probably best be described as a malicious smile mixed with resignation and bitterness.
"In case you're wondering, Doctor, she's always like that," Julie said.
"And you don't approve?" "What do you think?"
"I think that I'd like to hear your side of the story," I said.
"Okay," Julie said, and began her account without the slightest trace of embarrassment. And always with that strange smile on her face....
I had a father once, of course, but he vanished about four years ago. According to mother's account, he was sort of a scoundrel and a no-account who married her for her money. I don't usually trust anything that she says, but in this particular case I'm rather inclined to take her word for it. Why else would anyone marry a woman like that if it wasn't for her money?
And there's quite a lot of money, too. That's good from mother's point of view, since it enables her to show off all the time. She tries to impress the people she can't bully. She's totally unable to impress me, and the bullying doesn't quite work. Almost, but not quite. That's why she dragged me in here. To have me remade more to her specifications. Somehow, I don't think you're going to play her game, though, which is why I'm willing to talk to you.
Anyway, she's always loved ordering me about and telling me what to do, and above all making sure that I keep up what she calls the "standards". Keeping up the standards means being a snob, as far as I can tell.
The business with the dogs started three months ago. I go to a private day school, as you can imagine, and the institution is still unisex, if you can believe it. All girls. And that just about drove me up the wall for a start, since for about the last two years, I've found myself getting more and more interested in boys. If I end up not having a good, normal sexual appetite, it'll be all the fault of you-know-who.
Well, in the park one day, I met this really cool boy. He's not a hippy or anything, just a high schooler who's really neat. I bet most mothers would be glad that their daughter was interested in someone like that, since he's basically pretty straight.
We fell into conversation about one thing and another, and he asked me if he could take me out some time.
I asked mother, since she watches me like a hawk, and I wouldn't be able to get away without her knowing it. When I did, she pretty much hit the ceiling.
"You allowed yourself to be picked up in the park like some common little tramp or high-school girl?" she said. It was interesting to see that as far as she was concerned, the two terms were pretty close to synonymous. Anyway, she told me in no uncertain terms that I couldn't go out with Frank, or see him again.
Mother covered the living room in about two strides to get to the phone first when it rang. When Frank (that's who it must have been) asked if he could speak to me, she said, "are you the rude boy who tries to pick up girls in the park? Don't you ever dare call here again!"
There went my blossoming sex life out the window.
That evening, I was sulking in my bedroom thinking about how neat it would have been to be going out with Frank instead of being all cooped up in the house. Suddenly, I heard a scratching at the door.
I knew who that was. It was Plantagenet, my big Irish setter. He and I are good friends, and I was glad to let him in.
"Hullo, boy," I said, scratching the big dog behind the ears. "Are you sure you're fit to associate with me? You only have a pedigree a foot long. Mother certainly can't be too careful in protecting me from riffraff, can she?"
He licked my hand, but then, to my surprise, he began to lick something else, namely my cunt! I was already in my nightie, and that meant that there weren't any panties or anything in the way of his tongue. You know how it is with dogs, doctor. How they're sometimes really pretty crazy about the smell of women's cunt. Plantagenet was like that, and for some reason he had just decided to slide his head under the nylon fabric of my nightie and get at my twat.
"You're supposed to be guarding me, not raping me," I said with a laugh. But laugh or not, there was no denying just how delightful that tongue felt on my cunt. I've beaten off, of course, and in fact I beat off all the time. But somehow, doing something to yourself isn't the same as having it done by a partner, even if the partner in question is only a dog.
Slosh! Slosh! Slosh! that tongue was really sliding everywhere, over my hips, my clit, everything. And my highly sensitive cunt area was getting more and more excited by the attentions that it was being given.
So I decided to just lie back and enjoy this little treat that I was getting.
"Here mother was so afraid that I'd be sexually molested or something by someone whose name was not in the Social Register, and instead I'm getting my twat licked by a quadruped!"
The thought of how I was defying mother was in some ways even more pleasant than the sensations that the tongue was causing on my cunt. Though these were certainly very nice.
I figured that since everything felt so good there below my waist, I might as well do the same for myself up top. So I pulled the nightie all the way up under my chin, and then started in on my tits with my hands, feeling and caressing the soft globes, and pinching and teasing the nipples into a state of almost painful hardness.
The dog's tongue was really going at it now, and I was wiggling my ass against the bed and I tried to keep myself from going crazy with the wonderful sex-sensations that were zinging up and down my spine. I had never guessed that anything could be this nice.
"Lick me boy! Lick me! Lick twat!" I gasped to Plantagenet as he continued to do that, and very vigorously.
My back was arching, my legs were quivering with the tension I was under, and still the dog continued to lick and lick and lick....
"Come! Make me come, boy! Gotta come!"
Then, all of a sudden, the tongue just happened to give a particularly long lick to my clit.
Zinggg! Zanggggg! it felt like lightening was hitting my fun-button. Then, all hell broke loose, as the whole pent-up force of my come burst loose in spasm after spasm of female frenzy.
Coming! I'm coming! I'm coming! I gasped as my hips shuddered and writhed with the force of my come.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
Just blasting! Just blasting!
It was so fucking, freaking fantastically fine!
And finally, it was over....
"Man, that was really something," I half whispered to myself as I collected my thoughts. I had just had the best come ever, and although it's true the only ones that I had to compare it to were ones that I had given myself, I suspected that it would be hard to have a come that was really all that much better than that one.
"You're a good boy, you know that?" I said to the dog as I patted him on the head. He was still licking at my tender cunt, and it took me an instant to realize why.
"Of course! He hasn't had his come yet," I said to myself. All the while that he had been giving me such a fine blast-off, he had been getting himself all the more excited, but without having any means of getting himself off. Well, after having a nice go like the one he had just given me, I certainly wasn't going to be an ungrateful bitch and leave him in the lurch.
I felt too fucked-out to want to take his cock inside me, and besides, even though on one hand the idea really kind of appealed to me, there was something about it that kind of put me off too. I mean, his prick, which was all out in the open, looked so strange. I hadn't ever seen a boy's prick, but I couldn't help hoping that it would be a bit more elegant than the tool that I saw there on the dog. Plantagenet's meat looked just like that, it was so red.
At the same time, it was prick, and that meant that it did excite me. I reached out and touched it, and just feeling the already stiff rod give an extra stiffening between my fingers caused me to feel a little shiver of excitement go zinging up my spine.
I decided that the best way to help him out of his current state of perfectly frantic horniness would be for me to feel him off. That didn't take long, either, he was so excited from having licked my twat. I pressed my fingers together and slid them the length of his cock. His tongue was hanging out, and he was panting heavily. I repeated the gesture, and then all of a sudden I felt the penis give a little quiver as it shuddered off into its come.
Spurt! Spurt! Spurt! the gray sperm came shooting out in little gushes-not so little really-all over my hand and all over the bedspread. I looked at the sight with total fascination. At Miss Hutchinson's Academy, the concentration camp where I get what Mother regards as an education, there isn't much more than the barest nod to the idea of sex education. I'd managed to dope a good deal of info out of books in the public library, but actually seeing a prick in action was something else.
In fact, it so turned me on that I really felt sorry that I had wasted the shot like that. I should have taken the prick in my mouth, or better yet, in my cunt.
Well, there'd always be another time. As it was, things weren't a total waste, since I had plenty of the dog's sperm all over my hand. I lifted my hand up to my face and sniffed at it. Then, gingerly at first, I started to lick it off.
The stuff was great! guess the taste itself was just sort of ordinary, a bit on the sally side, but the knowledge that it was sperm and that it had come from a dog really turned me on. And in addition to the sexual satisfaction was the knowledge that mother would go just about straight out of her mind if she knew that I had done something like this. For the first time that evening, I wasn't disappointed any more about the fact that I had not been allowed to go out with Frank. I had definitely found something a lot more accessible. Every time that mother decided to play the heavy-handed routine (which is about ninety per cent of the time) all I could have to do would be to go off into my room with my dog and get on my back.
I would have really liked to have done some stuff with Plantagenet, but now that he had had his come, he didn't seem to be particularly interested. In fact, he had gotten down from the bed and was scratching at the door to indicate he wanted out.
All the next day, as I sat through the tedium of classes, I thought about how much fun I would be having that evening with my dog. At Miss Hutchinson's a lot of emphasis is laid on deportment, and shit like that, and of course I found it perfectly exquisite to answer all questions with the nutty demure look that they encourage there while thinking all the while about how it wasn't all that long before I had a dog's hard dick up my cunt.
That was what I was counting on too. I figured that there wasn't any point going in for half measures. Sex is about penises in vaginas, basically, and though all the other stuff can be pretty nice, cock-in-cunt is what it's really all about. At fourteen, it was high time that I got myself fucked, and that was something that I definitely planned on taking care of that evening.
After dinner, with mother making various nasty remarks about some one else's daughter who had taken up "with the most inappropriate crowd" (all this by way of a parable, of course, since I had merely done exactly the same thing with Frank) I managed to excuse myself and go off to my room.
There was always the possibility that mother might walk in on my little fun and games, but somehow that didn't bother me. I knew that she'd probably get really hysterical and all, but at the same time the idea of letting her know just how totally she had failed in her efforts to bring me up like a lady was very appealing.
I had the dog with me, and I started out by undressing and then rolling around on the bed in foreplay. I reached down under his belly and took his prick-sheath in my hand. Needless to say, I only had to give it a very little bit of attention before it came sliding on out into the open, ready for action.
I squeezed the cock between my fingers, and felt my clit stiffen with excitement at the realization of how hard and male the dog was. Well, this was it. It was time for me to fish or cut bait, so to speak. The dog was all aroused, and I was too. The only question was whether or not I really wanted him inside me.
That wasn't all that easy for me to answer. The idea of the physical pleasure that I would doubtless receive from having his cock in my cunt was certainly very attractive, and the idea of getting back at mother this way was almost irresistible. The only trouble was that I wondered if I wasn't embarking on a road that I might later regret having taken. After all, what I'd originally wanted still seemed like the thing that I would like best: to have a nice boyfriend like Frank, someone whom I could really care for.
"Well," I decided suddenly, "mom has sure fucked that up." And without more ado, I decided to screw with Plantagenet.
I guess that I should have gotten on my hands and knees in the traditional dog position. That would have made it a bit easier for Planatagenet to understand what it was that I was interested in having him do. But I was so worked up and excited that I didn't think about that just then. I knew that people usually fucked with the woman lying flat on her back and the man on top, and I figured that that would be the best way for me and Planatagenet to try it.
I lay back and spread my legs, with his cock just about where my cunt was.
"G'wan, boy, fuck! Fuck!" I said to him, but he just bent his head down and started to lick at my cunt.
That was all very nice, but it wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I touched his prick, tried to get him to insert it, but still had no luck. I guess that all the mental associations that he had with my hand on his prick had to do with him standing still and me beating him off.
I felt so frustrated that I could have almost cried. But then, I figured out what it was that was wrong, namely the position. I had seen dogs fuck on the street once before, and it occurred to me what I should have known all along. That at least until he got more accustomed to the idea of fucking with a human, Plantagenet would have to have sex in something that was an approximation of the dog-style fuck.
I got up on my hands and knees with his face near my cunt. I was really nervous, afraid that even this wouldn't work, and that I'd have to give up entirely on the idea of having that prick of his inside my cunt. But fortunately, once he saw my twat presented to him in that fashion, he got the idea right away. I felt him put his paws on my back and then he started to poke away at me with his prick.
He was having a bit of difficulty finding the entrance to my twat, and that meant that I had to accept a number of rather uncomfortable jabs with his rod. Finally, I reached back and put my hand on his tool, and then guided the thing on into my pussy.
From then on, he was able to take care of things himself. Women are pretty different from bitches, I guess, and judging from the difficulty which Plantagenet had, the vagina must be placed quite differently. But I guess the feeling of a warm, tight cunt pressing against a prick is the same no matter who, or what, the cunt in question belongs to. Once his rod was inside me, Plantagenet began bucking away to beat the band.
At first, I was too fascinated by the sensation of having something inside me, moving back and forth, to even feel stimulated by it. But that phase didn't last long, and soon I noticed a very definite glow spreading up my spine from my cunt.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I've always known that Plantagenet was a very energetic dog, but I'd never realized just how energetic. As it was, he was really going at me like a jackhammer, and I loved every second of it. The curiosity was already replaced by good, strong physical desire as I felt that cock of his wind me up tighter, and tighter, and tighter.
"Give one for mother! Give one for mother!" I breathed in between strokes. But to tell the truth, the pure element of pleasure in. this fuck was so strong that I didn't even feel that distracted by my dislike of my mother. All I knew was that it was wonderful to be female, wonderful to have a hole in my body like this which a prick could ram up into! I wanted to come, but at the same time, I didn't want the fuck to ever stop. It was just too, too delightful.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I was really getting close to my come ... really getting close.. '. .
I pressed my right hand against my hanging tits and pinched at the nipples....
Almost there ... almost ... almost,. . .
Then ... I ... was ... coming!
The orgasm hit me suddenly, like a light being turned on. Then my pelvis rocked and heaved with the force of the orgasm that tore through me.
Splat! Splat! Splat! The dog cream erupted up into my heaving insides as Plantagenet unloaded into me.
"Ah! Ah! AHHHHHH!" I moaned as I felt my whole body light up like a Christmas tree with the come-energy that was racing through it. Man, oh man, oh man....
Of course, the big trouble with starting out with a fuck like that, instead of, say, having the dog lick my cunt to begin with, was that he was now all played out and not really very interested in sex any more. The exact opposite was true with me. Oh, I felt a bit tired from the wonderful come that I had had, but that didn't alter the fact that I could get cranked up again pretty fast.
"It's a pity that males weren't designed with same sort of multi-orgasmic quality that we females have," I said to myself. Well, there were other occasions that I would have in which to enjoy the big setter's prick.
I was really grooving on the idea of getting back at mom this way, but I felt that I wasn't really going far enough. It was true that I could just about imagine her hitting the ceiling if she knew what I was up to with my dog, but I wondered if bestiality really fell within the scope of her social pre-jucices. A dog isn't in the Social Register, obviously enough, but then he isn't even in the running. I would imagine that what so bothered mother about a guy like Frank was the fact that it was at least theoretically possible for me to get pregnant by him, or even run off and marry him. Not that I had much of a desire either to get pregnant or to get married, but I felt somehow that as far as paying mother back for being such a pain in the ass, I wasn't really doing it quite right.
And of course, there was the simple fact that I was very curious to find out just what a boy's prick would be like. I imagined that there would be something of the same kind of in-and-out motions of the prick that I had gotten from Plantagenet, but there must be all sorts of other things about fucking with a guy that would be completely different. What would he do with my tits, for example? Well, there was only one way to find out, namely to let myself get picked up like "some cheap little tramp or high school girl" as my mother so delicately put it.
After the business with Frank, she had forbidden me to go into the park anymore, but of course I didn't give a shit about that. If I wanted to go, I was going to go, and that was that.
I guess it's one of the ironies of life or something, but the truth of the matter is that although guys are supposed to be playing the aggressive role in sex all of the time, and girls the passive role, guys are in some way every bit as timid as girls, or even more so.
For three straight days, I spent my lunch hours strolling in the park, hoping that I would get a bit of attention from the boys there. But each time, nothing happened, and I had to head back to my afternoon classes at Miss Hutchinson's without having gotten a nibble, so to speak.
Then, on the fourth day, I had some luck.
"Hi there kid," I heard a voice say. I looked, and there was a guy of maybe seventeen or eighteen, wearing blue jeans and lounging up against a tree.
"Hi."
"Nice pair of legs you got there," he said, eyeing the silly white stockings that all the girls at Miss Hutchinson's had to wear.
"You like?"
"Yeah," he said.
"Want to see some more?"
I couldn't help smiling when I saw his mouth gape open. Boys all like to see themselves as such smooth operators, but when opportunity comes knocking, half of them at least are ready to turn tail and run. This guy, whose name was Jim, I later learned, had probably made that remark about my legs so that he could think of himself as a really hot-shit sort of guy. The last thing that he had been expecting was that I would somehow respond in kind.
"Yeah, I'd like to see some more." He only said that after some hesitation, but one thing that was in his favor was that he was willing to rise to the situation once it had made itself clear. He had just wanted to engage in some playful chaff and banter, but if there was really some cunt in the offing, then he was more than willing to accept it.
"The only trouble though," I said, "is that I have to be back in the concentration camp in forty minutes. You know any place nearby where we can get better acquainted?"
In fact, I felt pretty nervous about all this, since this was certainly the first time that I had ever behaved like this. The business with Frank had been much more innocent and asexual. But now that I had made up my mind, I certainly wasn't going to back out now.
"Yeah," he said, "my folks' place is right there off Dewey Street. It's about ten minutes walk from here. We can get there, get acquainted, and still get back in time for you to not be late for school."
"Sounds fine."
My heart was beating kind of rapidly as we walked up the staircase of the tenement where he lived. But part of that was excitement at the fact that I was finally going to be paying mother back in spades.
Jim was no fool, and he knew just exactly what it was that I wanted. As soon as we got in (his parents weren't home, by the way), he started to unbutton my blouse.
I reached down to his crotch and squeezed his cock between my fingers.
"Pretty nice," he said. "I guess that you know something about how to handle a guy's prick."
In fact, I was working on pure instinct, but it really pleased me to know that someone thought that I was experienced.
He had my blouse off by now, and it wasn't long after that that my bra and dress followed. Then down came my panties, and I was standing there in front of him, completely naked.
He pulled his clothes off without any kind of fuss or bother, and he had a really fine bod, too.
His cock must have been a good seven inches, and it looked about as hard as a tire iron. He was ready and raring to go, and so was I.
He pushed me down onto the sofa in the living room and got on top of me. I was so excited at the prospect of being about to be fucked that I could hardly breathe. But in with the excitement was another emotion, too. A bit of regret.
After all, all that I'd ever wanted was just to have a normal sort of sex life like any other teenage girl. But my dumb bitch of a mother had had to intervene and really mess everything up. Maybe with Frank, who was a genuinely nice guy, I could have gotten a really neat kind of relationship going. As for Jim, he was okay, I guess, but I knew that there was nothing about his personality that attracted me. He was just an instrument that I was using so as to be able to get back at that stupid cunt of a mother of mine.
Well, it was too late to turn back now, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to, anyway. He already had his rod pressing against the entrance to my cunt, and I had to admit that it felt mighty nice and hard.
He gave a quick shove, and I felt his dork fill up my insides as it slid on into me on the thick film of pussy-fluid that I was so busy secreting.
Then, he started to pump away. Nice, long, easy strokes. Plenty of pleasure for my clit and labia. Really nice.
At first, though, being fucked by him was a little bit like being fucked by Plantagenet. That's to say that the mere idea that I was having sex at last was so overwhelming that I hardly had a chance to pay much attention to the actual details of how much pleasure he was causing me.
But, as had been the case when I had let Plantagenet stick his rod inside me, it wasn't long before the pleasure of having that thing slipping back and forth inside me was enough to really make itself felt, so that I no longer lay there wondering at the fact that I was finally being fucked, but instead, reveled in the feeling of having some good hard dick inside me.
Back ... forth ... back ... forth....
I was giving little counter-thrusts now, moving my hips in time to his long, easy motions. He had his hands all over my tits, too, rubbing and caressing them, driving them wild with excitement.
"You like, baby?" he asked as he continued to work my twat with that rod of his.
"You'd better believe it," I said.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! He had the most amazing way of angling his thrusts so that the back of his prick actually rubbed against my clit. That, in conjunction with the feeling of my labia pulled repeatedly across the hard little button, was enough to really put my twat in seventh heaven.
It had only been a minute or two since he had started, but he was doing such a magnificent job that I was already right on the brink of my come, and it was obvious to me that it would only take a thrust or two to get me blasting.
He was taking his time, though, and I got the impression that he was intentionally keeping us both hanging fire so as to maximize the excitement that we felt.
Whenever I found myself getting so hot that I was sure I was going to be coming, he would sort of ease up on my twat a bit, and change the angle of thrust so that I wasn't really getting the full effect against my clit. That would allow me to calm down a bit. Then, when he figured that I could take it, he would step the pace up to its old tempo again.
"In! Out! In! Out!
Almost there ... almost ... almost---
Suddenly, I was coming, and coming hard, with my whole pussy exploding in a wild firework display. I felt my insides churn and boil as. every nerve in my body seemed to let fly at once. And he was matching my come perfectly as he sent his load shooting on up into me in fine, hard gushes.
He rested inside me for a moment before pulling out. Then, he said, looking at his watch, "I think it's time you were getting back to your school. Unless you feel like playing hooky."
I was very tempted to say that I was indeed going to play hooky, and wanted to spend the whole afternoon with him. But I knew that that wouldn't really be too smart a thing to do. I'd be counted missing at Miss Hutchinson's, Mother would be alerted, and of course, when I got home there's be a massive hoo-hah. Not that I couldn't survive that. In fact, I'd survived plenty of them in my time. But I knew that mother is such a suspicious type that she'd really put the screws on a lot tighter. I'd be ordered to spend my lunch hour at school, and heaven only knows what else. No, as far as getting back at mom was concerned, I'd be doing far better by pretending to play along, and then secretly fuck with my dog and with Jim. That way, although mom wouldn't know about the way in which I was getting even with her, I'd know, and get a really strong sort of private satisfaction out of it.
So, on went the prim little white knee-socks, and back I went to Miss Hutchinson's, where the afternoon classes were interrupted as they were every day by the ritual of tea-which was supposed to somehow transform us into cultivated ladies.
Normally all the fakery of sitting there all prim and proper nibbling on little sandwiches and drinking tea really bugged me. But this time was different. As I sat there, I knew that there was still some sperm in my cunt, and I also knew that that Very evening, I would be having sex with my dog.
"Did you have a nice time in school, Julie?" my mother asked me at the dinner table.
"Of course," I said. "After all, it's in school that one learns to be a lady."
At it's in walk-up flats during lunch hour that one learns to be a woman.
I have to admit that although playing cat and mouse with my mother like that was sort of fun, dinner was sort of hard to get through, I was so impatient to have some fun with Plantagenet. He was standing there in the dining room looking at me, and I could tell that he was thinking exactly the same thing I was. It was sort of a little conspiracy of silence against mom, if you know what I mean.
After I got to my room, I was in almost a panic to get my clothes off so that I could get down to business. I glanced at Plantagenet, and saw that his prick was already part way out of his sheath. He knew by now what it meant when I started to undress like that.
I had had him lick my cunt, and I had fucked with him. But I hadn't sucked his prick yet. Well that was a gap in my education that I meant to fell as soon as possible.
"Here, boy," I said to him as I knelt beside him. I sent my tongue darting against the taut pink skin of his prick. Of course, that made the thing get even harder. If ever a rod was ready for action, that one was.
I slipped my mouth over the penis, and started to suck. It was sort of strange having something like that in my mouth, but it was also very nice. I slipped my lips along the thing as far as they would go so that I could get at his prickroot, and also so that I could feel his prick-tip press up hard against the back of my mouth, almost at the entrance to my throat.
He gave a yelp, which may have been a yelp of pleasure, or maybe one of impatience. I couldn't be sure, but I figured that I had better get down to business, so I started sliding my mouth back and forth along the length of his hard shaft.
Having that male thing inside me like that was such a turn-on that I found my cunt dripping wet in no time. I moved my hand down between my legs and started to feel myself up. The pressure of my fingers on my cunt was really nice, and because I've been masturbating for about two years I had a pretty good idea of the sort of things that my pussy really enjoyed.
I worked my fingers into my cunt, and pressed them against the tender cunt-walls. Then I sort of flicked at my clit with my thumb, while my hip shuddered with pleasure.
Suck! Suck! Suck! I was drawing away on that penis of Plantagenet's like someone drawing on a cigar that isn't going right. The big Irish setter was standing very still, but I could tell from the way he was breathing just how tremendously excited he was.
Not that he was much more excited than I was. My cunt felt like it was going to catch fire if I gave it too much more attention. In fact, I figured that I had better ease up on my twat a little bit if I didn't want to find myself coming before the dog did.
Suddenly, I felt his rod sort of quiver in my mouth, and I could perfectly well guess what that meant. I pressed my thumb hard against my clit just at the moment that the first gob of dog cream splattered against the back of my mouth.
I felt my clit send a little bolt of electricity through my cunt, followed by another and another, as my cunt shuddered off into a wild come. I pressed my fingers against my female flesh as hard as I could while continuing to suck on the gushing dog-prick.
It seemed to take forever for either of us to quiet down, but finally, about the same time that my pussy finally finished unwinding, his penis gave a last little dribble that marked the end of its action. And that had been quite some action, while it lasted. My mouth was really full of the gray dog-spunk. I sort of basted the Irish setter's prick with it, using my tongue to slosh the dog's own juices all over his cock. Then, I pulled my lips off of the thing and drank the stuff down.
It might seem that I had really done just about everything to get back at dear old mother that I possibly could, but it happened that an opportunity was going to present itself for me to go one better on the things that I had already done.
I was in Jim's apartment, which was where I spent most lunch hours now, and he was getting ready to fuck me when a dog suddenly walked into the room. By this time, when I saw a dog, the first thing I did was glance at the belly of the animal to see if there was a cock there. Sure enough, there was. The dog was a big, healthy mongrel with a friendly look on his face and a wagging tail.
"That your dog?" I asked.
"Uh huh. Sort of. I mean, when he feels like it, he's my dog. Sometimes, when he doesn't feel like it, he just wanders off for a week or two. I guess he-likes his freedom."
It goes without saying that my heart went out to the creature at once.
"Would you like me to do something nice for him?" I asked.
"Sure. What do you have in mind?"
I was already naked, and all I had to do for an answer was to get onto my hands and knees so that my cunt was facing the dog.
I don't know whether the dog, whose name was Boomer, had ever licked twat before, but he sure didn't want to pass up this opportunity to do so. No sooner had I presented my cunt to him, than he moved his muzzle up to me and started to slurp away with his tongue.
Jim gave me the impression of being the sort of guy who'd been around quite a bit, but that didn't prevent him from being sort of astonished by the sight in front of him.
"Don't just stare," I said, "why don't you join in?"
"Join in?"
"Sure. Get on the floor near me, and I'll show you what I mean." As soon as Jim was there on the floor with me, of course, I took his prick in my mouth and started to suck on it.
Jim's meat is always pretty hard, but this time it seemed particularly so, and I couldn't help suspecting that the reason for that was that he was really excited by the idea of being engaged in a threesome involving a dog.
It was interesting to compare the feel of his prick in my mouth to that of Plantagenet. The dog's cock was so much thinner, and it had an almost triangular shape, too. But different though the two pricks were, they had something really in common too. They were very hard, very vibrant, very male.
It didn't take much sucking before I got a mouthful of Jim's sperm, and the same observation that I made about the feel of the pricks applies. Dog come tastes definitely saltier, and it's got a thinner consistency, too. But there's no mistaking the fact that it and human spunk belong in the same class.
The mongrel got my cunt off at just about the same time that I brought Jim to a come. It was interesting to notice that although all dogs presumably lap cunt on the basis of instinct more than anything else, there really is a certain individuality about the way in which each of them does it.
I guess things could have gone on pretty much the same way for quite some time. I enjoyed sex with dogs, and I liked what I got from Jim, too. Jim wasn't a bad guy, and although there certainly wasn't any deep emotional attachment between us or anything, we got on well enough together. As for really getting involved emotionally with some boy, mother had made that just about impossible. The only guys she would have allowed me to go out with were snots like the ones from St. Fenwick's who came over to Miss Hutchinson's for tea dances. What a load of drips! I guess that maybe one or two of them might have been okay, but it so turned me off to think how mother would rejoice at the fact that I was finally showing an interest in hanging out with the "right sort of people" that I wouldn't give any of them the time of day.
The trouble was that the more I fucked with
Plantagenet, the more careless I got. So one fine day, while he had his rod rammed up inside me, who should walk into my bedroom but dear old mother.
You can guess the scene. The near faint (doubtless for dramatic effect), the hysterical screams. All the effort to make me feel guilty, ("you know, Julie, I've spared no expense or effort to bring you up properly"). In short the whole bit. Mother has a friend, Mrs. P., who was a patient of yours once. The two of them are as thick as thieves, so it was to Mrs. P. that mother went for advice. That's where Mother got your name, and that's why I was dragged into this particular office.
There can be no human activity in the world more difficult to do properly than to be a parent. The reason is that children are so susceptible, that the slightest mistake on the part of a mother or father can have very profound repercussions. And in cases such as that of Mrs. V., where what was not involved was not just one mistake, but her whole approach to child-rearing and indeed to life, the effect can be devastating.
Julie V. said that originally her only desire was to have a nice relationship with some nice boy. And there is no doubt that she was telling the truth. The whole interview with me was marked by a tone of great sincerity. After having had to put up with her difficult mother over the years-a task of necessity involved all sorts of pretense and deceit-she was glad to at last have some one to whom she could talk honestly. All she asked for was to be judged on her merits.
Unfortunately for Julie, her desire for a normal life ran smack against her mother's neurotic social prejudices. I say neurotic because in this day and age, the only mothers who are-likely to prohibit their daughters from having anything to do with nice, straightforward middle-class boys like Frank are ones like Mrs. V. who are so personally insecure that they see their social position as the only thing they have.
Unreasonable behavior on the part of a parent often begets retaliation on the part of the child, and that was what had happened here. Sometimes the child prefers open rebellion, and does such things as steal cars and otherwise get in trouble with the police. Others, like Julie, prefer a more quiet, low-key revenge, but one which is just as full of personal satisfaction. When I first saw Julie, I noticed that enigmatic smile of hers. She was a very intelligent girl, and one given to fantasy. The smile symbolized her recognition of the fact that there are all sorts of different ways of getting back at some one, and that she was happy to have found just how many there were. Not that she was by nature a vicious girl, but her mother had driven her to distraction.
Of course, the private, inner revenge and the more open kind are just extremes. All sorts of graduations exist between them. Subconsciously, Julie in some sense wanted to be discovered by her mother. She would never wait until the latter had gone to bed, I discovered in a later interview.
What is interesting about Julie is the way in which she maintained such good contact with her basic feelings. When having sex with Jim, for instance, she thought about how she would have preferred a boy with whom she could have related more on an emotional level. And though her desire not to conform to her mothers wishes made her reject the boys at the tea dances, a certain sense of fairness compelled her to admit to me that not all of them were "drips."
It should be obvious just how badly she was in need of therapy, for she had fallen into the most dangerous of all psycho-roles: hurting oneself so as to hurt another person. Although on one hand she appreciated the fact that there were various different ways for her to get back at her mother, in a sense these were all the same way. They all involved degrading herself so as to go against her mother's excessively exacting standards of behavior.
For instance, there was nothing wrong per se in her getting involved with a boy like Jim. He seems to have a reasonable enough sort of fellow. But the way she picked him up, almost sollicking him like she was a streetwalker, indicates clearly how she wished to make herself as base as possible. (It should be pointed out that although Jim did make the first remark in the park, she herself correctly sized it up as having been made more for his own ego than for any other reason.)
Obviously, much more was at stake here than her mother's refusal to allow her to see Frank. That was just the straw that broke the camel's back. After all, she had met Frank in her lunch hour in the park, and there was nothing to prevent her eventually meeting some other boy she liked there without having to play the role she did. If she could have a sexual relationship with Jim during lunch hours, she could have had a sexual and emotional one with him or someone else if she wanted without degrading herself. Clearly, her desire for revenge on her mother was one of long standing.
The trouble with treating a child or adolescent is that they have little chance to get away from the home environment that caused the trouble in the first place. Still, it is sometimes possible to get a person in Julie's situation to adjust to it, and that is what I eventually succeeded in doing. I managed, over the course of about a year, to convince her that for her to hurt herself so as to get back at her mother wasn't really worth it. Instead, I managed to make her understand, she'd be much better off if she could bring herself to look on her mother as a tiresome aspect of her life that was best ignored. After all, she would have to be living with her for a few more years.
At the same time, I told the mother that the bestiality that she was so worried about could only be contained if her daughter was permitted to socialize with boys of her own choosing. This was a bitter pill for Mrs. V. to swallow, but faced with a choice between allowing her daughter to have a middle-class boyfriend or living in fear that she might be off romping with a dog somewhere, Mrs. V. finally chose the former.
Just having that much liberty gave Julie a chance to gain a certain emotional calm in regard to her mother. She eventually met a boy like Frank and had a teenage romance marked, for all the inevitable juvenile aspects, by genuine tenderness and affection on both sides. With this available, Julie found that she was no longer interested in having sex with dogs.