Introduction
"... when Uncle Kent took me for a walk down his eyes, it was no tombstone path. Primrose lane, maybe; though I doubt if that's what he was seeing. He made me see what I wanted to see. That's why he was in control.
"It was jabbed up my ass to make me see it, but he did it in such a nice way there was no energy left to waste on arguments from my point-of-view.
"He sharpened up my focus on the strangest planes, but it was such a good spell he put me under, I probably would have thought we were fucking in a bed of roses when maybe he'd be giving it to me in a shithouse. Not that he ever had me do that, you understand. The only shit-house involved was my ass, and at least I didn't have to look at it. I just felt it, and tried not to think about it much.
"My favorite times were when they came up at the moment-like spontaneous, right? One day, one of his days off, we went out for a picnic. Well, as it turned out, my mother and father were along, so they ended up looking out for the kids while we took a walk before supper. Of course, the folks had no idea what was coming off, just thought we were taking a walk down nature's trail or some shit like that. So did I for that matter. Never thought Uncle Kent'd try and get one off that close to home. So we were just walking.
"We came to this little cluster of rocks after we'd been walking for a while and Uncle Kent and I decided to sit and catch our breath, just digging on the sun and trees and all that shit. So there I was, just sitting on this rock watching a crow bounce around some branches when I feel this hand sneaking up between my legs. I jumped about an inch or two, my mind being so preoccupied with the beautiful scene around me that I'd practically forgotten he was with me.
"'Gotcha, Miss Tuffett,' he smiled at me as I turned to him, reassured that no spider had jumped in my pudding. Then I realized that he was really as much a part of the setting as the sun and trees.
"His hand did all the rest of the talking for him, moving up to fondle my crotch and shut my mouth. Pretty soon, we're stretched out on the ground and going at it like high-school kids, feeling each other up by rubbing zippers. So he starts undoing the clothing, getting it down to the real facts, still rubbing his crotch against mine in a dry fuck.
"His hands are there and gone so fast that I can't tell just what's happening, but soon I feel my skin breaking out in goose pimples as the cold breeze touches it behind his deft unpeeling of my body. He pauses to twiddle at my nipples, making my tits jut up towards his chest real hard. Then he puts his tongue to them, rolling them around in circles, bobbing the buds in and out of their pillows, and nipping crisply at the very tips with his teeth.
"His mouth then trails down my stomach and I feel him breathing hot over my navel. In an automatic response, I lift my hips for his pulling hands that rip my shorts and panties down past my ankles. I unwind them from my feet, kicking them to the wind, as he follows his tongue down to my pubes.
"Screwing himself into the ground, he begins lapping gently at my cuntflesh, spreading the lips with his thumbs as he sinks his nose down onto my pubic bone and lets his mouth sink softly into my wet lips. I start pawing at the dirt around me with my hands and feet, trying to bury myself and escape from the head he's giving me. It was too good for me to be alive. But somehow I escaped the graveyard, even though my mind may have taken me there and back.
"I reach up and grab his head with one hand, rooting my fingers into his hairstrands to keep from sinking all the way into the earth, all the time squirming my box around and around, my ass cheeks working in a grinding fashion and imprinting themselves into this monument we'd leave behind for others to ponder. All this time he's keeping up with my every move, breathing hot swells of air through my pube patch like twin tornadoes as his mouth and tongue dip deeper into my cunt.
"And then he pulls his tongue out of my cunt and sucks my clit in between his lips. I get so crazy that I let out a bunch of farts, shouting and yelling for him to do it good. And he does. Real good.
"When he sucks down and clamps it real tight, twiddling at it ... man, he's flat sending me to the moon. I'm all hot and hollering, beating a tattoo into the dirt bed, while he keeps nose-diving down on my muff, slurping up all that good flesh I had to give. And then I'm getting all clenched up in the guts and tight and hot ... and I'm coming and coming and coming....
"He sucks up every last drop.
"So while I'm stargazing there in the middle of the afternoon, I hear a POP and a ZIIIIIIP and bring it back home again. My man is leaning over me, his hot nozzle all ready for the fire, the drill on my clit having given him the call. But just as I start licking my lips, all ready to reach up and swallow that sword of his, he gives me a quick pat on the hip, telling me that it's time to look at the dirt for a turn.
"I flip over, the 180 some-odd degrees whirling past in a paintbrush of colors. Brown and green in fulfillment of some rape's love dance. And I steady myself, elbows and knees to terra firma, the world's whirl taking a split second to catch up with my motion. And just as fast as my horizontal focuses into control, a jab from behind sets my vertical rolling.
"But soon it, too, is turned in as uncle's hands steady my waist and pull me back to his waiting rod. My ass spreads wide to accommodate his large flange-shaped head as it tests its pliant surface against the tight ring of my asshole. I feel a hand pull away from my side momentarily, hear him spit, then feel its return as it lubricates his cock head. With one finger, he neatly primes away at my sphincter, reaching down in my grotto for a fresh supply of my cunt-goop for further lubrication.
"I steel myself for the sharp pain, then feel his finger stretch the flap open ... then flaffff it snaps down around the large head of his cock like a thick rubber band. I lunge at the pain, but it is a backward push and only drives his shaft further home. The itchy-twitchy burning soon passes, though, as I begin letting my ass juices flow down around the invaded parts.
"It feels all sticky at first, his cock slicing through the tacky surfaces in slow in-and-out movements, but as soon as some of my shit lining comes down to smooth the path, we are able to move in a more harmonious fashion. I push with my hands down to the ground for better traction, my hair swinging into the periphery of my sight, as I grind my asshole high into his lunging prickstaff. His balls slap heavily against my buns as I open it all up to his full length, letting out little sighs of pleasure as he does me in.
"No matter how hard I tried, Uncle Kent just wouldn't let me get away. He kept jabbing that cock of his in me hard and fast, making me dip my head farther and farther down towards the ground in submission. With one hand, Uncle Kent reached around me and began rubbing my clit off with his finger. All the while, my face getting closer and closer to the ground framed by my arms and hair.
"Then I started quaking inside, his powerful thrusts too much for my delicate rectal tissues. At the same time, my knees and elbows began trembling, and I scraped them roughly through the dirt in a vain effort to match his strokes. But they became too unstable to control, my nerve fibers at the very end of their ability to endure, and I found my face being smashed into the dirt as his hot seed spilled into my guts.
"Of course, we had to clean up real good afterwards, walking back into our campsite as if nothing had happened. It was sort of hard to look across the checkerboard picnic table at Kent while I downed my beans and franks without making myself a dead-on giveaway.
"Of all the times we got it on, the most memorable was the time he told me that he was actually my father. I mean, he didn't come on in the middle of a fuck and yell, 'Hey, by the way, I'm really your father,' or anything like that. That would've fractured my buns for" good. No, it was over supper one night. He'd been feeling sort of moody-oh, I'll spare you the lurid details. Anyway, I was able to garner the facts from him, as to why he was feeling so down in the dumps and all. So I get him to spill out the real reason and I just about shit.
"Starts laying on about way back when ... and then ... and about my old lady and him getting it on while the old man's away. My old man hadn't been getting it on with her then-that's how they knew. The old man being such a wimp, he ends up thinking I'm his kid through some miraculous brain-twisting known only to an asshole like him. Course, no matter what he might have suspected, he never figured his brother.
"Anyhow, the whole thing sort of knocks me down for a while. I mean, shit-how many days do you get like that? But after the initial shock hits me, he starts soothing me-or more like we sort of cooled each other's nerves about it. From his reaction, I could tell that it must've been just as big a burden, him carrying the knowledge all that time and keeping it a secret, as much as it was a heavy thing the way it hit me.
"Somehow, we got beyond the consolation and mutual back-patting, and progressed along our usual ventures. Kids tucked safely in bed, we began to undress each other as we dressed our nerves, settling into the wonderful escape of going into each other. The way that heals....
"His fingers seemed more sensitive to my flesh this time, as they glided nearly tiptoe over the surface, often just brushing the tips of the hair to implant an eerie kiss of ice. Following his lead, I responded in kind, brushing my lips against his more tenderly than usual, my tongue dripping like honey into his mouth, our tongues blending into one.
"And the feeling grew as our hands sped over each other's skins, our lips and tongues following their paths to erase the shock of our new knowledge. And yet, perhaps due to my finding out about it, the making up for it seemed to provide more excitation than ever before. And too, there was this really heavy thought that thumped from the back of my head-knowing that Uncle Kent was really Daddy! I mean, if I'd have known it to start out, back before we'd gotten into the fucking scene, I might have called it off. But since we'd already found out what compatible lays we were, I was prepared for it. And somehow it was making the whole thing even more exciting. Like we were doing the ultimate sin or something like that.
"After we'd felt up and sucked up just about everything from elbow to appetite, we got on with the more serious business, our bodies already pounding from the goodness we were sharing. I found myself being positioned over the end of the couch as Uncleer-Kent-Daddy? Well, whatever-I still call him Uncle Kent just to keep the whole thing covered-he was having me kneel over the end of the couch so that he could mount me from the rear. And that, as you already know, is our favorite way of getting down to brass tacks.
"He eases down behind me and presses his cockhead up to my rear door. He guides it in with his hand, thrusting hard to get past my ring, making a sharp pain knife through my guts. But then it gets feeling pretty good as he settles down over me and begins humping me hard.
"I feel his sweaty belly slapping against my back as he hunkers down over me and runs a hand around me to play with my right tit. Then it spreads out like a fan and mashes both of my tits within its grip and rolls them round and round while he slaps the old meat to me.
"I move my hips back up to meet his, pivoting them as much as possible in this position, but the limitations of the movement can only go so far. He had to do most of the driving from this angle, so I did my best at just circling my ass around a bit while he pumped it to me.
"He was watching me sink down, but I guess I'd asked for it this way, so I just tried to hang on as best as I could to my falling senses with some sort of blind faith. Luckily, he pulled me through. Our fucking became more frantic then, an unmentioned telepath triggering the fires of our communion. Somehow the words of his disclosure earlier in the evening had become implanted in our flesh, pushing us on to greater emotions than either of us had experienced in our relationship before.
"And then he sent a shower of hot rocks spewing up my ass, making me yield to his violent demands. I crumpled under the assault, the combined emotion of committing such a taboo act along with the degradation I experienced as a result of it, breaking me apart into one of the greatest orgasms I'd ever let go. Jeeeeesusssss, how good it felt!
"'Jeeeeeeeeeeesssusssss!' I yelled.
"And before my flesh crumpled down against the sweat-spotted pad on the couch, my senses must have orbited the galaxy, or at least a sun or two.
"I wake up from my delirium and am confronted with a wide wedge of red and brown. Then I realize that I've been flipped over on my back and Daddy Kent is sitting on my chest, his big spade-shaped cockhead poised over my lips. Without thinking the whys and how comes, I open my lips, running my tongue tip over them in anticipation, then gape wide to take his shit-flecked cockhead into my mouth.
"Once past the preliminaries, I twirled my tongue around the tiny hole of his opening, a string of glue trickling down under my lapping tongue. Then he began to fuck my face, ramming the blue-veined glider of his down my throat, nearly causing me to choke. But I checked my gag reflex and took all he had, making my mouth into an up-front cunt complete with teeth. Teeth that raked and nipped at his flying dick to add to the pain of the occasion. A pain that had to feel good.
"He really had a big load left for me to gargle down-enough to keep me swallowing as fast as I could to keep breathing. His balls were covered with the saliva-come mixture that flowed from my mouth representing the overflow that I just couldn't swallow. All in all. it added up to the best evening we'd ever had, and the nights that followed were all the better. Our secret, made even closer by the fact that I knew we were father and daughter, only made it better."
There is an interesting, although seemingly farfetched, correlation between anal eroticism and the environment presented by baby-sitting, the term popularly given to the modern-day practice of having someone act as a surrogate parent for a child while the parents are away. The person left in charge of the given child may be a blood relative such as an older sister, or less-closely related individual such as an aunt, grandparent, etc. Or he or she may be someone from outside the conjugal unit such as a neighborhood friend, or even the more impersonal professional service offered by the individual or the agency specializing in catered childcare. Whatever the circumstances of this surrogate parenthood may be, one thing is obvious: the child, whatever age he or she may be, is left in the care of a more mature individual because the parent feels that the child has not reached a stage where it can care for itself. Beyond the most glaring general parallel between anal eroticism and baby-sitting, that being the connotative suggestion of diaper changing, we know that the anal personality (that is the individual with a definite preference for anal eroticism) has often been presented by many advocates of Sigmund Freud as an immature individual, one who has not adjusted to a total sharing of his or her feelings and become emotionally mature in these respects. We must make a differentiation: the so-called libertine who practices many sexual experimentations in his lovemaking, such as analism, must not be confused with what the old Viennese school of psychology called the anal personality, taking the term from their leader's (Freud) classification of stages to sexual maturity. Briefly, those stages involved a progression from anal, to oral, to phallic during the growing years of a child's sexual maturation. When an adult displays a chronic pattern of regression to the anal or oral stages, he is showing a neurotic tendency in his personality, i.e., a failure to have progressed along the normal lines of sexual maturation to the phallic stage of pleasure reception, the marked preference in the anal or oral states stunting his ability to act in a totally reciprocal relationship with others. Therefore, unlike the sexual libertine who has seen his way through the crunch of 19th-century rationalizations being so successfully marketed today, who has realized that he and everyone around him could be labeled neurotically normal and decided to share his experiences with others, the compulsively anal person is somewhat selfish in nature, carefully guarding himself from the adult sexual world, and defensively retreating to the safety of the less-threatening and more onanistic shelter of emotional childhood.
However weak the attempt to parallel the environmental factors presented by baby-sitting with those of anal eroticism, we did find an interesting enough topic to warrant further investigation. While the attempt to make a strict equation between these distinct phenomena would quite obviously be ludicrous, further research into the subject offered some criteria for collecting the data found into a volume. The manuscript resulting from these efforts in no way intends to suggest that all, or even a significant minority for that matter, of those involved in baby-sitting situations are of a nature akin to that of the anal personality.
What we did find, however, once we started investigating the field of sexuality found in the baby-sitting environment, was enough instances of the anal phenomenon to warrant a book upon the subject.
This is a time of change, a time where we find many of the standards regarding our sexuality, as well as many other related fields, being radically changed. The rationale presented by the older schools of psychoanalytical thought and their more current offshoots is merely paving the way toward a better understanding of our sensual heritage, allowing us to absorb the knowledge and hence to change our attitudes. While we may find it impossible to change our behavior per se, we find that knowledge of ourselves offers the insight that may allow us to accept our makeups, therefore allowing us to better choose what particular things suit us. For certain, the vast majority of young people in this country and other western countries alike, have rapidly absorbed the McLunacy, the great heap of images thrust upon them by the media, and have come to learn about sexual response at a much earlier age than their ancestors. At least, it seems, they have learned that there is a point one reaches when one must put learning to practical application. In an age where sex is no longer necessary for procreation, the great thrust of the changing attitudes toward sexuality is being heavily felt. While it may leave a great deal of their elders with a guilty conscience, which after all is the only thing that can really be taken or given, the youth will soon be running things, and it seems that a new form of romanticism has evolved. It is obvious that many teenagers and young adults have learned not to worry so much about the various labels that may be heaped upon them from textbook or neighbor alike, but have adjusted to the applied art of practicing pleasure in whatever form best suits them. Therefore, many of the old schools' rationalizations in the psychosexual field, while being applicable as an explanation for such behavior, do not really trouble the young. In fact, there seems to be evidenced a marked turn toward sexual exploration on their part as a sort of panacea for the many other ills that may worry them: overpopulation, nuclear war, pollution-just to name a few. The key seems to be found in their overall ability to feel the emotions more intensely than their elders, instead of simply knowing about them.
As the baby-sitting environment is often frequented by young people, it is hardly surprising that we find some new twists being added to the nursery. With the young more inclined to experiment in many different areas of sexuality, including anal eroticism, we have found a high incidence of sexual play going on in these surroundings.
In this volume, we will present case histories, factual first-person accounts taken recently from the files of various psychologists around the country who have become concerned with the incidence of anal eroticism being practiced by persons left in charge of youngsters. To get a fair cross-section, we have tried to present impartially detailed histories of subjects so involved, whether they be the girl from down the street, an older brother or sister, or the professional agency. We will find several types herein also: ranging from the more free-spirited youthful type, who may evidence a predilection for anal eroticism as a part of a more-or-less well-rounded sexual appetite, to the more rigidly defined, structured pattern of the person neurotically obsessed, perhaps fetishistically, with analism.
It is felt that such a work will help to show not only the loose parallel we are drawing between anal eroticism and the baby-sitting environment, but more importantly reach out to the greater generality, tracing some of the common factors found in all humans caught up in the rising tide of sexual change now being experienced around the world. By witnessing the actions of this subculture, then, we can somewhat mirror our own actions, relate them to our own idiosyncrasies, and, hopefully, complete the circle by relating our own experiences to the sometimes confusing state of rapid change we as Homo sapiens are presently undergoing.
Before launching into our case histories, it is important for us to understand something more about the nature of the subjects involved. Rather than spend much time with the practice of baby-sitting, something that we can find out about through our own everyday experiences, we will spend the bulk of our discussion with the development of the anal personality. If one wishes to gaze through history there are many references to the idea of child care and the relationship of the conjugal family available. Sociologically, we find many forms of surrogate, or temporary, parents being evidenced in our civilized history. It is interesting to note that among today's youth subculture there are to be found some groups that are reaching back to experiment with such practices as communal child rearing, a practice found by anthropologists to be among the earliest attempts by some of our ancestors at utilizing surrogate parents. That is, the child is put in the care of perhaps several woman during the day, along with other children of the community, while the child's mother goes off to perform some other tribal function.
Whatever forms of providing a surrogate parent to act in the stead of an absentee parent have been practiced throughout civilized history, we find that the roots of sexual instincts go back just as far in our biological evolvement. And even among the primates, we have witnessed sexual alternatives, such as analism, being carried out. Desmond Morris in The Naked Ape observed that we have come from a more sure basis than we neurotics may realize. Man's so-called deviations from what we call norm were around long before Freud came along to label them.
Morris found that among the more advanced primates there was often a predisposition toward anal play, and also, among certain monkeys, a tendency to play with the by-products of the anus. He noted that the baboon, for instance, mounts from the rear, spending much of the love-play concentrating upon the buttocks; perhaps it was the way man first performed intercourse.
Since Freud, we have come to understand the significance such acts as toilet training may have on the more complex human mind. A person who receives some great trauma during the anal period of his upbringing, may neurotically regress to the time of this trauma. Some later psychologists, such as Wilhelm Stekel, described such traumas as those that may lead, in more severe cases, to later fetishistic behavior. In true fetishism, however, the object replaces the sexual organs as a target for sex. In most cases of anal eroticism, even among those witnessing a strong preference for that form of love-making, we are more likely to find something more akin to partialism, which is, simply stated, an interest in anything that acts as a strong stimulus to sex, but which does not in fact replace totally the genitalia of the love partner as the love object.
Whatever theories there may be that may explain the reasoning behind a person's preference for such a phenomenon as anality, we do find a larger proportion of the population enjoying a wider variety of sexuality than ever before. Unlike the person who may indeed have suffered a near-crippling trauma, many individuals involved in anal sexual play today have fairly good insight into their own developments. Rather than spend their lives assuaged by guilt, they choose to play out their preferences rather than talk about them. Unlike their ancestors, who may not have been particularly aroused by the prospect of anal lovemaking, but rather used it as a form of contraception, the person who practices anal eroticism on a heterosexual basis today is more likely to be doing it for the sake of gratification.
So then, we have a rough equation between the environmental factors presented by baby-sitting, and the practice of analism, however loosely structured it may be.
The following case histories should document the phenomenon more clearly, and it is hoped will help put the subject into a brighter light as its similarities are tied in with the greater arena of total human sexual response. While we present only case histories involving contact between baby-sitter and visitors, this does not imply that such contacts between the sitter and sittee, as it were, do not exist. Herein, we were more interested in presenting the environment, as a possible element conducive to anal byplay. We hope that the data provided from these in-depth discussions will help provide the reader with a greater insight into his own psychosexual makeup and its relationship to the great period of change we all are going through.