Chapter 5
Rover and Quiff
"To be perfectly honest, I have to admit that I'm slightly embarrassed to confess that I was thirty-eight before I lost my virginity. With all the sexual promiscuity going on nowadays you'll probably think that a middle-aged woman who waits until her wedding night for her first real taste of sex is some sort of relic.
"Well, maybe I am a bit freakish, and maybe I did wait too long and hunger too many lonely nights for something, anything, to ease the sexual longing in my loins. I can't begin to describe the guilt I felt every time I was forced to yield to my needs and masturbate. And when you're a middle-aged virgin-an old maid, they call you-and you begin batting your eyelashes and behaving childishly to entice men to make sexual advances, that isn't the best for your guilt pangs either.
"But it was all worth it-the long nights of abstinence and praying and hoping for the male of my dreams who would love me and take me to the sexual heights. Yes, I'll be happy to tell you about it-proud to-and I won't spare any of the emotion I felt or descriptive details. Theodore -'Teddy' I call him-proved to be a lover of consummate skill. He took me to sexual heaven and introduced me to physical acts I'd always thought would be repugnant to me. But nothing he did-no animal, beautiful way he touched me or tasted me-offended me. He rendered me helpless and I was his slave, doing everything he asked of me in bed.
"Because this is strictly confidential, I'll tell you everything. It is absolutely privileged information? Good. Then it's agreed . . . I'll tell you exactly how it was with Teddy and me. I just hope I don't get carried away, you know, and wax poetic. It was so beautiful the way I became putty in Teddy's hands that wedding night.
"First, however, I must say that I truly understand the meaning of total sexual release. Before my wedding night I didn't. Oh, I thought I did. But I really didn't. I'd read countless intimate accounts of men and women fornicating, and so I just assumed I knew all there was to know. What a naive, innocent child I was before that night! Somehow I assumed that the meaningless encounters between men and women meeting in bars and the like, then stumbling to some motel for their sexual intercourse, was the most I might eventually look forward to. But now I know better. Oh, do I!
"Now I have tasted the very essence of sexual fulfillment and I know what a male and female lying naked in bed together can create! Small wonder there's a desperate searching and, finally, a wild and frantic frenzy as male and female strive for the ultimate pleasure, the exquisite ecstasy of sexual completion.
"It was worth waiting for. There I was, lying unashamed on my back, my legs spread wide while my loving husband took what was rightfully his and gave me more pleasure than any woman could hope for. I recall the sounds arising from my throat, little hysterical murmurs mewing to a roar, a sort of slow crescendo to a cymbal crash. There I lay, making little staccato-like breath-whines and thrusting like a happy female animal in heat until I could feel it beginning, rising crazily all through my body. 'Ahhhhh,' I called out to Teddy. 'Ummm, the very best there is!' Orgasm-delicious orgasm-was at last mine, and I loved the man who gave it to me more than I can possibly express in words.
"Even that night as we hurtled on, whimpering, commanding, pleading in tones that hinted of finality, there was a primal knowing, deep down, that the sex act between us would have to be repeated and repeated and repeated again that same night.
"Yes, it was then that I understood the entire male, female thing. Just as naturally as rivers and clouds form, then dissipate and form once again, so too must lovers part, then reunite. I guess I sought a permanency-a temporary one at least -that's not a part of nature's way. And so we, as all lovers must, discovered that we were simultaneously cursed and blessed to thirst and drink from the well of sexual delight again and again.
"There would be no other days for other lovers -nature's whims. No, I'd committed myself to Teddy, and soon there came another flirtatious smile, the fluttering of my lashes, his bold male response, and we were hurtling once again in anxious lust toward the end.
"But why do I refer to our orgasms as the end ? Is there an end to hunger, desire, need, loneliness, despair, fear, anger, frustration? Of course not. At any rate, all was soothed and sated in the ultimate NOW moments we shared-lost in each tumultuous thrusting that had begun when we'd first met with a word, a gesture, a hint, a sigh, then grew to gentle touching, fond caressing, gentle stroking.
"Courtship's pleasant games were something else! We held hands in G-rated movies, and often kissed in the park near my cottage. I guess a park's as good a place as any to plan a marriage between a widower and an old maid. Teddy was so thoughtful. He was afraid of shocking me, and so he proceeded cautiously and gently. Yes, we spoke of our wedding night and plotted the sexual act that lovers always think will soothe the simmering in their loins. But now we know the love act is something that cries out to be repeated. It outlives all the satiations along the way.
"Isn't it the damnedest thing a species ever saw, the way the urge keeps coming back? Sometimes that first night, while in the throes of surging passion, we'd vow to love again, without pause, only to lie all spent in panting bliss, perspiring and wondering how the thought was ever born. Then there the urge would come again-like some nagging tune-and we'd begin the rhythm of the Race once more. "I love you!" we'd scream at each other, locked tightly together, and off we'd go again!
"We did it on the floor, the little, partly-enclosed terrace of the hotel room, the bed. Everyplace seemed the right place for lovers entwined and on an erotic voyage. After all, who's to say a bed is best? Love fever dictates the where and when, correct? The main thing was, we were two warm bodies pressing together, seeking fulfillment, consummation, completion. Oh, the luxury of the marriage bed-no guilt, and the pillows, sheets, blankets in disarray! Yes, I'm convinced the marriage bed's the best place for lovers the world over to consummate their act. The cool sheets grew warm, our hearts pounded. It was a perfect clasping place!
"I learned to say fuck-actually yell it out loud and clear-and I learned to kiss and lick my husband's organ. As each final moment approached, there was a total suspension of time. Tingle-throbs and floating sensations took over my body. Tension, release. Tension, release. Fucking, fucking. The very rhythm of life itself!
"I felt my husband's breath in my ear, heard the hunger in his voice as he held me close, closer, tighter. 'I hear you, lover,' I'd call out to him. 'Fuck me!' And then he'd tell me other things to say to please him. Oh, we were together and he covered my body with kisses-kisses everywhere. My breasts, between my legs, everywhere a female longs to be kissed since the dawn of her being. Teddy kissed my titties and tongued the nerve center between my legs. 'Please let it last!' I cried out to him. 'Make it last! Make it last forever! There is no time but NOW. Just NOW. Oh, hold me tight and make it last forever, Teddy. Make it last all night. Forever! Forever!'
"Well, of course it couldn't last forever. We all know that. But I wanted it to. Oh, the mating moment-the target for lovers everywhere . . . I wanted it to last forever. Each of our passion storms created a gale to dwarf even The Great Flood. I lay limp, fondling him to still another erection after each loving.
"In between times we had things sent up to our room-silly things like hot fudge sundaes and sweet liqueurs. But sometimes we were practical, and there was steak, or caviar, or lobster. And during these periods of rest we played all the lovers' games-giggling, sparring, teasing, feigning anger, pouting, pleading. I remember thinking once while eating shrimp that all the classic struggles for power and wealth seemed puny beside the power of love and sex. Ummm, the most serene reward-his stout organ that he called a 'hard on' and my female harbor for his hard on that he called my 'pussy.'
"We kept on that way, touching and sighing and delighting in all the preliminaries. They are important. Isn't it beautiful that the joy of orgasm-'coming' Teddy calls it-takes into account the wonder of anticipation? Yes, in a way, the anxious waiting and the thunderous climax are all one. They're part of a cycle, the goal-getting and the goal-seeking inextricably bound together. Yes, a storm wouldn't belittle the first gentle rustle of wind in the leaves. Never. And neither could Orgasm, big and marvelous as it is, sneer at the fondling of testicles and breasts . . . the preliminaries.
"But there I go again, trying to be a teacher of English literature instead of staying with my story. Please forgive me? I guess it's a lingering trace of the Old Maid in me!
"Still, it is true, isn't it? I mean, that beautiful instant, Orgasm, seems to be on intimate terms with all its necessary stages. It's like a symphony with an introduction, a finale, and all the waiting, anxious intricate movements in between. The 'carnal blast off wouldn't be the fulfilling thing it is without the harmony of the tease, the whispered 'please.' That beautiful, final instant is part of a one-thing that includes all that precedes its final chord. The delicious, final 'Ahhhh' then is only an extension of all the earlier male and female fumbling. It's the disappointment, the hoping, the hearts pounding like drums within the secrecy of the chest, the will-he or won't he? -the postponed rendezvous, all of it. Oh, that beautiful thing, Orgasm, may not give lovers all they think they want, but it gives them all they need-all their nerve ends can stand! The trick, I found, is to let old man Orgasm have his way and yield totally, without reserve, to his all-knowing ecstatic thrill. 'Ummmmm. . . . " Do you know what I mean? Of course you do. I'm the one who is the newcomer to this sex business. I seem to keep forgetting that.
"But of course we didn't analyze the why or how we'd reached each feverish point in time-Teddy and I-when every fiber of our bodies strained to seize every precious drop of pleasure from the ultimate instant. How could we? And why retrace a lust-filled labyrinth or tamper with a recipe devised by gods? Besides, we'd been alone enough and now we were together!
"It was as though we'd been drugged by some -some potion too awesome to ponder, the way we'd hurtle on in our lovemaking to our own crazy rhythm. It was a tempo of our own invention. Rubato or strict, it was anything we wanted it to be. No, we needed no aphrodisiac. We were the Tijuana Brass without a trumpet . . . Mozart to a rock beat. Our cries of love filled the room and you could hear The Hallelujah Chorus resounding from the walls. 'Fuck me, Teddy!' I'd call out to him, and he'd plunge himself deeper and deeper inside of me.
"And no two fucks were alike. Each sex culmination was distinctly different. Comparing them would be as futile as comparing the luster of one jewel with another. Each had its highlights, its subtle nuances, its special grunts and groans. It could never be duplicated again. I thrashed my torso to his command, engulfing his 'hard on' within my 'pussy,' and my head kept tossing from side to side as I begged him to make it last; make it last forever. And, you know, sometimes he almost did! All that stored lust and desire in our bodies, damned up for so long, just kept pouring forth. Yes, Orgasm is the most beautiful of nature's hungers. It's-it's mindless passion, the ultimate communication, the perfect understanding between two craving human beings.
"I'm sorry. I know I'm getting on the pseudo-poetic side, a bit too precious, but I'll finish in a moment and-and give you a-a more clinical description of all that took place that wedding night. I promise. But what I'm trying to say is, that beautiful instant, Orgasm, is no fad affliction, no puzzling virus with the symptoms of a fit. And anybody who would dare diagnose its wonderous thunder with-with some scientific gadget is-is a madman. I know about those experiments they've conducted on people copulating, but the Ultimate Instant is-is a timeless span of ecstasy. It's flesh and blood delirium.
"No, Teddy and I weren't strangers in paradise. We were strangers in paradox! The real irony was, we realized on that wedding night that we'd never been strangers at all. Nor could we have been more worshipful and childlike at the surging in our loins. We felt a beautiful reverence for that all-familiar feeling that somehow stays forever new. 'Coming,' I mean. There it was, so many times, just a heartbeat away-a sigh, a thrust, and finally completion.
"Well, enough of that schoolroom kind of talk. Now that I'm a happily married woman I should at least be able to communicate like an ordinary woman, right? Right. You see, I get carried away with my thoughts sometimes because I spent so many lonely nights in my cottage with my books. Now all that's behind me. Let me see, what really, objectively happened on our wedding night.
"Yes, first off we drank champagne. Oodles of it. And then everybody threw rice at us as we climbed into Teddy's black Lincoln Continental. Teddy's very successful, you see. He's in real estate and deals in commercial properties. Still, while he's a business man through and through, he's extremely sensitive and a most adept lover, as I've tried to get across. His first wife-she died of cancer-must have been a veritable whore in bed because she obviously permitted everything. I suppose I should be grateful for that, even though I do feel a trifle jealous of her, because I suppose he wouldn't have been so bold and animalistic in bed if it hadn't been for her.
Yes, that's why Teddy was perfect for me. He'd had a tigress, sexually, for a first wife, and then after all those years of being a widower he developed a deep sexual hunger which he fortunately saved for me.
"Oh, my . . . I'm so out of breath . . . I've been talking a mile a minute, haven't I? I must pause. Do you suppose I could have a drink of water? Thank you. There . . . that's better. Now, let me see. I do so want to get to the heart of all this, so that you'll truly comprehend the real Teddy and me.
"As you can see, I'm still most attractive. It's an oddity that a woman of my beauty would not have fallen prey to a male many years ago. Sexually, I mean. But you see, I've always been such a tweedy, proper little thing. My parents made me that way. 'Be proper,' they'd caution, 'and you must be cautious of boys. Letting them touch you in your female places can result in disease and pregnancy, Genevieve.'
" 'Yes, mother . . . Yes, papa,' I'd promise. But I wasn't all that proper. No, not for an instant. Even as a young girl I indulged in sex play, marveling at the erections of New England boys. The male organ is truly a fascinating thing, swelling up and protruding the way it does, and I relished fondling the firm, hot pokers with my eager hands. For years I've masturbated males, frequently to completion, so that their sticky love fluid spewed forth and there I was left trying to devise ways to remove semen from my porous, tweedy outfits. And if you don't think that's a problem!
"Well, needless to say, I survived puberty and adolescence without detection from my puritanical parents, pregnancy, disease, loss of virginity et cetera, et cetera. Neither, with the exception of those masturbatory experiences, did I have much fun! Unless, of course, you consider scouring sperm-soaked tweed with cleaning fluid erotic. Oh, yes-once a boy did put his mouth on my vagina, but I was so guilt-ridden I could not fully relax and enjoy the feeling of his darting, wet tongue there. I was just terribly tense and fearful that he would then wish to probe my vagina with his penis.
"On and on it went that way throughout the years. I, fending off eager males from inserting their organs in my vagina, they, never asking me out on dates again. There was one lesbian who became very friendly with me, but somehow girls are just not my cup of tea. I already have a vagina and a set of breasts, don't I ? What would I want with another vagina or another pair of breasts. After all, I can fondle my own, can't I? She was a charming girl, though, really. It's a pity.
"Well, so you can see that university life for me was really rather drab. I stayed with my books, earning scholastic honor after scholastic honor-retaining my own honor, too, damn it!
"But I assure you I was not frigid. It was at this time that I became a connoiseur of the male organ. Without their detection, I could steal a glimpse of a limp male organ hanging down a pant leg quick as you please! The size didn't matter, and they never suspected that I was appraising their genitals. Professors at school, janitors, football players, any and all of them-they were no match for my sharp eye. Yes, I knew who had what size wise, and then at night I would lie in my bed after studying and fantasize. I loved to imagine their male organs swollen and erect and ejaculating. There, with my secret thoughts, I would lie warm and snuggling the pillow beneath the covers as I manipulated my breasts and lubricating vagina. I was not a chronic masturbator, you understand, but I did indulge myself two or three times each week. For some reason I have never tried a vibrator. Women inform me it is truly a marvelous instrument for masturbation, but it somehow seems too mechanical. Besides, I suppose I was fearful of becoming addicted to it.
"Teddy . . . Teddy . . . my Teddy. Yes, he's all I need now, and definitely worth waiting for. Soo, you can see that my early life was quite uneventful, sexually. And then, finally, there came that day-that landmark of a day-at The F-
School. F-is one of those truly posh schools for daughters of wealthy parents who have not distinguished themselves scholastically. That's putting it mildly. Many of F-'s female students are downright dull! F-, home of New
England's dullest!
"Well, F-had become an anachronism. Fewer students had been enrolling for some time and so it was decided to sell its spacious campus. Upon hearing of this decision I went into a veritable coma of depression. The rolling landscape, the thousands of birch trees, everything that represented F-had become as much a part of me as my own seldom touched vagina. Upon first hearing of the decision to close down F-I reacted in a most unusual manner. I began masturbating three and four times a day-between classes in the ladies' room, in the privacy of quarters, sometimes in one of the more secluded areas of the campus on one of the wood benches. I was beside myself, frustrated, insecure. Where was I to go? I was a most competent professor, attractive if unmarried, but now everything seemed to be going absolutely to hell.
"And then, just in the nick of time, came Teddy! Teddy was introduced to me in Larksbury Hall by our administrator, Miss D--.
" 'Genevieve,' Miss D-'s high-pitched voice squeaked, 'this is Mister Theodore K-' Mister
K-is in real estate. He is showing the F campus to prospective buyers. You'll be seeing him from time to time.'
"Even before Theodore winked at me-actually winked as he took my extended hand in both of his own strong mitts-I had stolen a glimpse of his male organ trailing down his leg. It was a splendid ample penis, I judged. And then I, Genevieve S-, did something I had not done in thirty-eight years! I can only explain my bold action by my near-hysterical state of mind as a result of F-being up for sale. Smiling, muttering the usual banalities of introduction, I firmly implanted my middle finger in Mister K-'s palm and wiggled it back and forth in the universal signal of sexual invitation.
"Teddy's jaw went slack in amazed response, but he managed to mutter that he was pleased to meet me. Strange, but I felt absolutely relieved of all the tension that had been plaguing me for so long. Suddenly the catastrophe of F being sold, the anxiety regarding my future employment, everything, left me. My bold maneuver had caught both of us by surprise and I was miraculously a free woman! I expected nothing to come from the mere wiggle of a finger in a man's palm-for all I knew Theodore K-was a married man-but my defiance of conventions was just what the doctor had called for, as they say. Expecting nothing as a result of tickling Teddy's palm-I wouldn't have cared if anything outrageous had resulted-I departed, nearly skipping with joy as I made my way past W-Hall to the library. . . . "
Genevieve Kof this case is a classic example of the "prim and proper" spinster librarian -except that the subject of this case is a professor of literature-who, having suppressed her normal sexual impulses to engage in intercourse, rechannels them toward intellectual pursuits without, however, as is usually the case, abandoning the idea of sexuality altogether. As a matter-of-fact, as the subject's narrative indicates, the prim and proper intellectuality of Genevieve
K-, prior to the time of her marriage to
Theodore, was little more than veneer coating a life of extremely active sexual imagination and surreptitious activity that included practically everything in the foreplay stage of such activity and terminated only just short of coitus.
That there was an almost continuous inner conflict and a state of anxiety in the subject is apparent from the intensity of her narrative tone. Of course, the anxiety that is present at the time of the narration is of a different nature from her premarital anxieties. Whereas, prior to her marriage, her anxieties revolved around the conflict between what she had been taught to believe within the context of Judeo-Christian ethics and what she felt in the way of almost overpowering sexual urges, as the balance of her narrative will show, her present anxieties revolve around the fact that her husband Theodore appears to "no longer want her."
What is presented here is, in fact, a classic example of the dangers of sublimation or repression of natural sexual instincts. On the subject of repression, Benjamin B. Wolman, in his Call No Man Normal, writes:
The main defense mechanism is repression. Repression is an unconscious exclusion from the consciousness of objectionable impulses, memories, and ideas. The ego, as it were, pushes the objectionable material down into the unconscious and acts as if the objectionable material were nonexistent.
The ego uses its energy to maintain the repressed material forever (anticathexes). Whenever a repressed wish or idea comes close to the surface and attempts to re-enter consciousness, the ego's main defense mechanism is applied in order to push the undesirable wish back into the unconscious. Thus by applying powerful anticathexes and by keeping close surveillance over the repressed material the ego prevents the unconscious from becoming conscious. This preventive action, called resistance, is merely a continuation of repression.
What happens when the ego is either suddenly unable to suppress the objectionable material into the unconscious? Unless there is a gradual transition from total suppression to a full and conscious acceptance of objectionable material as no longer being objectionable, then the end result could be compared to a rapid and almost unstoppable boil-over, and in the case where the object of suppression was some desired form of sexual activity, the boil-over is traumatically emotional and sexual. Suppressed sexuality becomes hypersexuality and often threatens to approach the condition of nymphomania, with or without resultant frigidity.
As Genevieve K-draws her narrative to a close, her narration begins to suggest a tone of psychotic disturbance. There is almost a multiple schizoid personality emerging: the professor, the child, the woman, and the deprived wife panicked at her deprivation.
The question of "normal" frequency of intercourse that is raised by the subject is one that deserves comment. Eustace Chesser, in his earlier cited work Strange Loves, has this to say on the subject:
Frequency of intercourse has been the subject of a number of surveys. Interviews with 526 married couples by Dickinson showed that in the United States the most common frequency was two to three times per week. . . . Kinsey found that four acts per week were common up to the age of twenty; at thirty the rate fell to three, and at forty to twice a week. Men of sixty had an average of less than once per week.
That the frequency of intercourse desired by the subject of this case far exceeded the highest frequency on record, and since obviously her husband's abilities to keep up with her were unsuccessful, the trauma, the anxiety, that seized the subject when one considers the extent of her previous repression are psychologically clear. And what, of course, further complicates the nature of her emotional instability and adds to the schizoid tendencies that she is manifesting, is the age at which the events of her life are befalling her. One could almost be assured that the reason she brings up "male menopause" is because she is into her own. Here, again, it is the subject's awareness, or apparent unawareness, of what menopause is-as Harold T. Hyman, in his Complete Home Medical Encyclopedia, says: It is nothing more than a normal termination of reproductive capacities-that adds another specter to the several such shadows of anxiety that suddenly invade her mind.
There is still another potential reason for Genevieve's almost hysterical reaction to her husband's abandoning her. It might be simply identified as an unfulfilled maternal instinct.
"It was a little after seven that evening, right after supper, that Theodore K-telephoned me for a date the following evening. He made no reference to my unusual behavior of that afternoon and conducted himself in a most gentlemanly manner. So I accented. We would dine in the village, he said, and possibly attend the summer stock production of As You Like It. I accepted, delighted at the casualness of his invitation. I am not particularly fond of As You Like It (I've seen it possibly twenty times!) and his vagueness regarding our date delighted me. Who could predict the outcome? I reasoned. Possibly we would even end up in his magnificent black Lincoln Continental, parked in some secluded spot among the birches and kissing and hugging! Perhaps even his splendid penis that I had observed beneath that gabardine pant leg would rise as he breathed obscenities in my ear and I would flip it out and stroke its strength and length and width between my hands.
"I resolved not to wear tweed just in case this occurred. There would be no more semen on tweed for me! Yes, I know I was over-reacting and anticipating, but honestly I would have permitted
Theodore Kto take me 'all the way' in the back seat of his Lincoln that night if he had insisted. This was one virgin who was ready to play the role of hussy for a change.
"Of course, Teddy did not whip out his penis, nor did he even suggest such a thing. Men never did behave that way when I'd resolved to let them. Instead, he made the most scintillating conversation over supper and impressed me thoroughly with his knowledge of the world of commerce. I was delighted to learn that he was a widower and he was satisfied that my finger against his palm was a gesture of genuine sexual need, even though I was a lady and not promiscuous. We did, it turned out, park in his Lincoln Continental and I did masturbate his firm, strong penis while he brought me to completion with his skilled and considerate fingers against my clitoris.
"That's as far as it was to go, however, until our perfect wedding night to which I've already alluded. Teddy insisted that my virginity remain intact until that night and, frankly, that is precisely what I yearned to hear from his own lips. Of course, Teddy did not propose marriage that first night. No, that came later. There were to be many sessions of mutual masturbation together before I consented to take the name of Mrs. Theodore K--.
"Yes, there were sessions of exquisite breast and vagina stroking, along with manipulation of his stout member, to rival the most torrid of bacchanalian episodes in Roman and Greek history. And not a drop of sperm tarnished my tweeds. I wore less conservative attire on our dates and always carried a hanky to catch his drippings. There were sexual encounters, as I said, in his automobile, and later there came delicious orgasms in Teddy's rambling country home. Also, a time or two, when chances of detection were slim, we sneaked into my own cottage to ease the pressure of our loins.
"It was after several months of meeting on the sly, as it were, that Teddy asked me to become his wife. I told Teddy I would give the matter serious consideration and, in fact, telephoned him some two hours later from my cottage. 'Yes, Teddy,' I told him, 'yes, I will proudly bear the name of K--. ' And it was decided immediately that, whether F campus was sold or not, Teddy and I would be married at the close of that semester. I would terminate my career as a teacher and live with Teddy in his splendid house, devoting my time exclusively to Teddy's needs and whatever cultural matters I might care to indulge in my daily living.
"Well, I needn't tell you that the anticipation became nearly unbearable nor that our lovemaking sessions-always short of actual intercourse -became savage and lustful things. Yes, I shall never forget those next few months. I cannot tell you how many times I beseeched Teddy to break his vow that I would remain chaste until after the wedding ceremony. But Teddy held fast to his promise and masturbation it was!
"But I did tell you that I would become more clinical in my description of our wedding night, didn't I ? Yes, forgive my digression, but I wanted you to appreciate and understand our rather unconventional courtship. Well, finally the night arrived. I had bade farewell to F-forever and, as I told you, following the small but perfect ceremony, those attending showered us with rice as we raced for Teddy's Lincoln Continental. After what seemed an eternity we arrived at the hotel. It had been our plan to spend that first night in the hotel in Boston before fleeing to Teddy's house for two weeks of recluse-like honeymooning, and so we kept to the plan.
"We did not leave the hotel, however, for four days. In fact, we rarely left the bed. It is now that I will become less general in describing the physical part of our relationship. After all, I understand that you research people are not interested in some abstract and poetic lot of gibberish from an old maid regarding her wedding night. Therefore, in the interest of your research, I shall abandon my inclination to remain tight-lipped and-how do they put it?-yes, 'tell it like it is.' I'm certain that, by comparison to the reports you people get from younger lovers and the like, that my little story will be hopelessly bland.
"To begin with-right off-Teddy and I attacked each other with abandon. Teddy insisted that I adopt the manner and language of a wife with a healthy sexual appetite rather than that of some timid old maid. I assured him that I would drop all pretense and begged him to do the same. 'Fuck!' my knightly husband of real estate commanded, and fuck we did! Oh, how we did fuck.
"Teddy's member rose as it had throughout our courtship and my cavern gushed in torrents. We were scarcely out of our wedding clothes and fondling as we had these past months, when Teddy had me spread-eagle on the huge bed, easing the throbbing head of his manhood into my waiting cavern. But Teddy was not a man to rush things-I knew of course that he would prove neither brutish nor swift from our many masturbatory sessions-and he whispered tender words of endearment as he drew my nipples into his mouth and eased his 'prick' into my 'pussy.'
" 'I do love you, Genevieve,' he panted. 'I've waited for this for so long. My God, can it be true that at last I'm sticking myself into your adorable pussy?'
" 'Yes, yes . . . Oh, Teddy, yes . . . don't make me wait. Do plunge it in to my very core!'
"Well, we went on that way until his 'prick' was at last in the vagina that I'd grown certain would never be filled by human flesh. And it was at this time that the entire tone of our relationship changed. Teddy uttered, 'Yes, love, my Rover is at last inside your quim. Baby, let us fuck-really fuck. We'll maintain the facade of respectability and propriety for the world, but together we shall be animals! We have waited too long to hold back-especially you, my love-and from now on we'll fuck and suck and it will be tits and ass and prick and pussy without any of the frills.'
" 'Yes, Teddy!' I responded. 'Fuck my ass off! Stick me everywhere. In private I'm your whore.
No act is beyond us. Shove it, sugar! Drive that rod into my-my cunt!'
"The word cunt drove Teddy absolutely mad. I'd used it only twice before, at his insistence, and his reaction had been beastlike. Now was no exception and he drove his prick with a fury I'd never dreamed imaginable.
"Rover, he had nicknamed his organ, and now he referred to it by name. Almost poetically, he panted now: 'Rover will never roam again. Rover is inside his home-the home named Quiff-and Rover will never rove again.'
" 'Quiff you call it and Quiff it is,' I said. 'Oh, Teddy, do drive Rover harder and harder into Quiff. Quiff welcomes Rover as no cunt ever welcomed a prick before. Oh, Rover, Rover, Rover! Stick Quiff hard!! ' I threw, literally threw, my ass hard up from the bed as Teddy instructed. 'Fuck my cunt!' I yelled at Teddy's command. Teddy was very concerned that I use the correct words and, being a skilled student of the language, I used the words of his choice impeccably. Soon I had the proper stress and slur of every phrase he desired.
" 'Like getting your ass fucked off, huh ? ' he kept asking.
" 'Yes, I love getting fucked in my cunt until I beg for mercy,' I replied. 'Give it to mama, baby. Slam that big slick beauty right in the slot! Yeah, yeah . . . more, more. Baby, can you ever fuck! Rover digs drippy, oozing poontang. Ugh! Argh! And poontang needs that prick-dick-cock-hard-on, prong, wanger, pecker! Stab mama, sugar! Grab her ass hard and make her come with that rock-hard meat hunk of yours, baby!'
"Teddy had many synonyms for his penis and I eventually discovered that it was not necessary for me to try to use them all in a row, as it were. Nor was it necessary to try and inject cunt, pussy, poontang, slit, slot, crack, hole, muff, quim, butt-hole, piece of ass etc. all into one sentence. Like any new student, I tended to overindulge in my newfound knowledge. I got better as we went along, however.
"Oh, it was heavenly. I had guessed that Teddy would prove to be a mighty lover, but such a feasting glutton was too good to be true. Quiff and Rover, the names of our organs that were to remain as permanent and personal nicknames, had the time of their lives!
"We must have done it-fucked-three times in a rather short span of time that way with me on my back and my legs wrapped about Teddy's buttocks to spur him on. Then followed 'doggie style' and 'takin'-it-in-the-ass.' My virgin vagina had held up splendidly throughout its indoctrination by Rover, but 'takin'-it-in-the-ass' proved to be a chore I found, at first, somewhat painful. Nevertheless I was determined to be a first-rate wife in all departments and soon even 'takin'-it-in-the-ass' became a pleasure. Teddy was patient and skilled at 'takin'-it-in-the-ass' and he tickled my clit simultaneously so that I was able to experience the most extraordinary and intense orgasms imaginable in this fashion. (Later, I was just as eager to play 'takin'-it-in-the-ass' as Teddy became eager for me to read him James Joyce and other poets he had never heard of. This was months later, however, and I don't want to get ahead of myself.)
"Of all the variations Teddy was to inject into the sexual theme, I suppose 'cocksucking' was my favorite next to actual 'fucking.' Teddy informed me that I had a truly natural aptitude for 'cock-sucking,' and in all honesty I knew he was correct in this evaluation. In school, for instance, I had taken to Chaucer and other poets of the middle ages with far more ease than, say, poets of the eighteenth century. And so it was with 'cock-sucking.' This game I approached with gusto.
"My salivary glands actually gurgled at the mere suggestion of this act. There proved to be something about taking my husband's organ deep into my mouth and laving it with my tongue, while manipulating his testicles, that touched off something primitive deep within my being. I loved to examine Rover closely in the full light. I relished inserting my darting tongue into the little crease in Rover's bulbous head. I became entranced while 'jacking' Rover and tonguing the purplish-brown head and every fold of delicious flesh. Soon, too, without much prompting, I developed a taste for the bland taste of each pearly drop that appeared on Rover. In fact, later that same night, I was to-ingest-yes, swallow deep down-the entire contents of Rover's ejaculations. 'Loads,' Teddy called them.
"And loads they were! I was astonished at the ability of human testicles to produce such a vast quantity of sperm over and over again. 'Here comes my load!' Teddy would shriek, and there the 'load' would come until my mouth was overflowing full. Each time Teddy would command, 'Swallow that load, baby!' or 'That's it, baby. Swallow it all, honey!' And I did as he implored without the slightest hesitation, for you see there was no deception or play-acting whatsoever involved. I was a splendid cocksucker, just as Teddy had informed me, and it was quite natural for me to enjoy drinking the contents of his 'balls' each time he gave me his 'load.'
"Teddy's licking my vagina was heavenly also. 'Cunt-lappin', ' he insisted was a specialty of his, and I would not argue the point for one instant. I experienced many delightful orgasms in this manner. It was quite natural, also, that I would therefore be predisposed to enjoy 'sixty-ninin', ' since this is a most heavenly act in which both genitals experience mouth to genital contact at the same time! But of course you know that already, don't you ? I-I am sorry. I keep forgetting that it is I who am the neophyte telling the world of age-old pleasures. Yes, the 'sixty-ninin' was one of my favorites. Teddy clutched my bottom hard and clenched his mouth over my entire genital area so that Quiff was totally immersed. At the same time, I dined on Rover and, to my delight, Teddy managed to maintain constant contact (or nearly so) with my clitoris. Simultaneous orgasms-'comin together or 'goin' off at the same time' were the order of the day.
"Naturally, I was not quite so naive as I have perhaps given the impression. I mean, I had indulged in a few conversations regarding sex with other females, and that lesbian I mentioned earlier had implied quite a bit in her efforts to lure me into her clutches. Then, too, I have read a number of magazine articles which were quite explicit. Still, despite my many masturbatory sessions with Teddy and other males, there was a great deal that was new to me. Teddy, unquestionably, had saved the bulk of what was to comprise our married sex life together to this night of nights-or perhaps I should refer to it as our week of weeks.
"In any event, it was a ravenous and beautiful thing, as I've told you from the beginning, and it was to extend on into months. You see, fortunately for both of us, Teddy's work in real estate is not a full-time thing. He has been able to spend a great deal of time with me. More so, of course, in those first few months than of late, but that's a matter I would rather not get into at the moment. No-I-I am puzzled about some aspects of married life, but-I . . . Do you suppose I could have another glass of water? Ah, that's better. Thank you so much. Not shocking you, am I? No, of course not. Please don't laugh at me. It's just as I told you from the beginning . . . I guess I spent so much of my life alone with my books instead of truly living that I've lost a bit of my-uh-perspective. I imagine myself a bit of a veteran when-when I'm the rankest of amateurs, eh? Yes, I can tell by the looks on your faces this is true. I do have some questions I want to save for last, though. Agreed? Fine. Then I'll continue. I do want to come to the part that really brought me to you-the questions, I mean. But for now I'll go on . . . yes. . . .
"Well, as I said, Teddy doesn't really have to spend a great deal of time at his work. He's extremely well off and thus we were able to spend the time following our honeymoon in precisely the same manner as during our honeymoon. What female could dream of a more blissful existence?
"Finally, too, there came the time I had longed for. Teddy had given me the physical satisfaction-the ecstasy I had so long yearned for-and now I could share with him that part of my life that he had been denied. Yes, now I could educate him, indoctrinate him to the world of literature, just as he had educated me to the world of sex. It was time, I sensed, to begin the many readings of the truly literary greats. Teddy proved a willing and able student, too. He swore that he enjoyed Chaucer and-and I could tell he did. His face would light up as I read The Miller's Tale and those really sexy, bawdy parts of literature from my favorite period.
"On and on we proceeded. I revealed to him as I had never unfolded or admitted to any other student the depth of my love and understanding of the' classics. Shakespeare seemed to bore him just a trifle, so I stayed mainly to the favorites -Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, Julius Caesar, Othello-you know. And then, at times when he seemed bored, I skipped forward to the contemporaries. I tried to impart my love of James Joyce to him. and I'm absolutely positive he understood. I know many people think Joyce was just writing endless sentences with crazy punctuation, but Teddy really seemed to be getting what Mr. Joyce was about. I desperately hoped Teddy would comprehend the nuances, the mastery of language, the word play combined with such consummate skill the world is still to unearth all that exists in Finnegan's Wake or Ulysses. Joyce was a ribald devil, you know. Yes, there's a veritable treasure hoard of sex there.
"Well, to be certain I wasn't overloading my new husband with literature. I let him indulge himself with the athletic events on TV. Yes, and those silly series with detectives and the like. Of course, none of it compares with what is contained in the classics, but I did indulge myself with him.
"Most important, however, I didn't lose my taste for sex. I became, if anything, a more starving, craving addict to the whims of Rover than ever before. I can't tell you how many times, in the very middle of a televised athletic contest;football and the like-that I knelt at Teddy's feet and took Rover into my mouth and nursed him until he 'came,' shooting out his pearly contents into my mouth. Nor can I possibly count for you the times I ceased my readings to Teddy in order that we might play 'take-it-in-the-ass.' You could not ask-no man could ask-for a more affectionate wife. I gave my body to him whenever I even sensed that he wanted it, and I hungered for his attentions to Quiff as well. Rover and
Quiff, Quiff and Rover. No matter what intervened or what occurred Rover and Quiff were an inseparable twosome hell-bent on pleasure!
Often, after we lay in Teddy's expansive house stark naked after one of our sex sessions, and I began once again reading from the classics to him, I would detect his cock-prick-hard on-dick stir. At these times, I would at once drop whatever book it was I was reading and we would 'fuck' once again or play 'cocksucking' or 'take-it-in-the-ass.' Not once did I let my husband, Teddy, down in this respect. Never. Quiff was Rover's inseparable companion for the asking, indeed, for the mere hinting!
"Oh, and did I marvel at Teddy's progress! His patience as I loaded his brain, his soul, with the best literature that brilliant minds have written throughout the centuries, was something to behold. I poured out my-there is no other word for it-guts to the man of my dreams. My very intestines spewed forth the sensitivity and knowledge of the poets I possess. At last I had another human being with which to share my innermost feelings, my life, my intimate knowledge of literature. Between 'takin'-it-in-the-ass' and 'cock-suckin" and every sexual act humans can conceive, I educated Teddy! Despite the interference of ball games and silly wastes of time such as those evening television series, I taught him! And at the same time we were able to enjoy the delight of each other's bodies!
"Isn't that a remarkable thing? Don't you agree? Good. Well, now I come to-to the questions I wanted to ask. I-I know that all honeymoons come to an end. By that I mean, I am quite aware that there is a leveling out, so to speak. One certainly couldn't maintain the frequency and intensity of sexual delight forever, could one? The human body simply isn't equipped to handle such-such exquisite ecstasy forever.
"Gentlemen, I wish to ask you-you as married men yourselves-just about at what level of frequency you maintain sexual relations with your wives. Ummm, would you say twice a week is normal? Do you frequently abstain for weeks at a time? And-I know this is personal-but I have revealed a great deal to you, haven't I ? I hope you will be candid with me. Do you find it difficult for-for long periods of time to-to achieve an erection ?
"You see, Teddy doesn't want me to read him the classics anymore. Not at all. I can understand a brief hiatus. Even colleges have resting periods between semesters, don't they? Well, fine, I can understand that part. But the-sexual-periods -of-of abstinence p-puzzle me. You have them, too? I don't mean to inject an element of-of pathos into this interview, but after such a paradise of sexual activity and literary splendor II don't quite know how to take Teddy's almost total lack of interest in anything between us anymore. This is a phase, isn't it?
"And other females? A man of Teddy's age-the male menopause I believe they call it-he does seek the companionship of other females without deserting his wife? You see, there is so much more for him to learn about literature. It will require years . . . years. And there he is, people tell me, roaming about the village with a-a perpetual erection for other females and he can't even get Rover erect for me at all anymore. Sorry, gentlemen, I didn't mean to cry, but Quiff is still waiting for Rover-waiting just as eagerly as ever for Rover to imbed himself in Quiff. But Rover is never around anymore, and I am with my books all alone once more. Just me-Quiff and her masturbation and her books. There is so much more for Teddy to learn, and Quiff is so desperately lonely. It is just a phase, isn't it? Teddy couldn't mean it about selling the house and living separately, could he?"
The problem of schizophrenia in the subject-combined with and/or caused by her emotional conflicts-will undoubtedly indicate immediate psychotherapy. It is impossible to say whether such treatment will be successful or not-the subject's intellectual development tends to throw a ray of optimism on the success of such treatment; however, her apparent regression into what manifests signs of childhood hysteria may create complications in the psychoanalyst's and psychotherapist's abilities to reach her.