Chapter 1
Through a Rear-View Mirror, Darkly
"Alice would have really dug on the black holes popping around this side of the mirror-ain't something that you get with your eyes, though. Goes right up the ass. And out the mouth again and around again. You've got to sort of live with it and learn to adjust.
"Steve turned me on to the rear-garde method of entry, and it didn't take me long to learn how to really groove on it. Every single time we get it on now, in fact, I've just got to have that big bone of his up my ass. It's gotten so that I dig it more than the straight way to ball ... not that I don't get behind that, too, when I'm in the right hands.
"He shoves it in nice and slow to start out, usually smearing a gob of vaseline on the tip of that fat choker of his-especially if we haven't sweated it up with some other preliminaries beforehand. It hurts just a little bit at first, but I've gotten used to it by now and can give him help wrapping my asshole around his cock. Once past the ring, he begins slowly driving his shaft up the old crapshooter, making my colon go through all kinds of bean spasms as it adjusts to make room for those hot eight inches of his.
"Once the burning of the first few moments is over, he grabs on to whatever parts are available-like for instance, if he's doing it dog style, he'll maybe press his belly against my back and wrap his hands around and play with my boobs a lot while we're getting down to it-and lets it fly. I start giving in to his steady driving and begin pivoting my hips back against his groin, digging on the slapping of his heavy balls against my ass cheeks. After that, it's just 'hello,' 'good-bye,' and pushing and crashing until he drops a load in me.
"Until him, there wasn't much. But now I'm used to living with the Devil's thumb goosing my ass all the time: you just have to learn to try and dig it. But as long as you can find a witness that might have felt some of that hot breath down his neck, too, then you've at least got a two-ring circus for-well, maybe a blip or so, whatever kind of time you're on.
"At least you might get to feel there's somebody else out there, if you know what I mean.
Like, I figure you end up alone anyway, but too much of that in the time in between wherever we came from and are going to, if even that's what's happening like they say, gets you thinking way too much. It's like you go too far inside and something's gonna explode-or maybe implode-ending up with too many terms and not enough action. If you are going to get inside something, it makes it nice to have somebody along-somebody else to get inside for a while anyway. At least you get to feel it and stop thinking for a while. Feeling crazy is OK, but thinking crazy is just too sideways for me.
"I figure it's like this-I'd been spending too much time on the edge, and pretty soon it gets to surround you. All in black and white. Coming from somebody fifteen that sounds a little ahead of the time, but everything is so speeded up now that we all need some vacation time. A little color. So I ended up getting at least some of the gray in when I started getting it on with Steve. At least he showed me how to paint it brown.
"Over there at the J-s, when I was babysitting for their kid, Bobby, me and Steve ripped away at each other like a weasel and a mongoose. Not that we killed each other exactly, but it was a different sort of love, if you insist on throwing a label on it. Up till then, I'd been pretty blinded by spending too much time alone in my room. That can really space your head-make you end up making up your own judge and jury. And you never come up with nothing but a guilty verdict.
"My folks and all their ideas of what being proper meant is what got me there.
"'Pam, we don't think So-and-So is the right sort of boy for you.' 'Do this, do that.' Shit! It was driving me insane.
"But Steve was a different thing. Took me out of their time warp and landed me right in the present. Steve took me away from all that. My long-haired, handsome man, who I'd met while I was stumbling through the broken 7-Up bottles at Devonshire Downs. It had been a poor excuse for a rock concert and I was in the dumps. But he picked them up but good.
"Made me forget about the generation gap crap-that's inside somebody's head. My parents got so down on him that we ended up having to meet on the sly over at the J-s' where I was baby-sitting with Bobby. He was, the kid that is, upstairs asleep while me and Steve got to it downstairs. Just like the older Deb dance clubs, as long as some 'hep' sponsor was there to make sure we weren't getting too shaggy. Scrubbed like the Beatles and Barbie Dolls they wanted us to be. Leonard Bernstein had given it the A-Okay sign, so they figured they'd try and be real 'groovers' and understand. Shit! That understanding crap is what brought on all that generation gap garble that pushed the lies out like there was something called an underground. The only underground I know about is filled with bone boxes, worms, and moles.
"The gap was inside the head ... and it was making mine get filled with more and more lateral space from listening to all the air they pumped in it. So I finally got fed up with all that crap they tried to jam down my throat. It was choking me alive. Sure, the straights they dated me off with were OK for a laugh or two down at the Teen Canteen, but it left me stranded. Like too much garbage that was sent to the cleaners and returned. Nobody can dig that for long. And it gets longer and longer when the garbage isn't even a little dirty. Too many ups and downs ... and you're really going nowhere.
"So I met Steve. It was at this flaked-out excuse for another 'Woodstock' they had out at some dirt pig field they rent out for anything from auctions to funerals. I'd gotten into some new things by then, picked up on a few friends that were tired of the way our folks were cramming fifties into sixties and calling us by the outdated terms of hacks trying to be with it. We'd gotten into a few scenes with drugs and shit like that-nothing heavy, just some weed-maybe a little hit of mescaline, but it wasn't really doing much for my head-the drugs, I mean. Like it was just a new thing to be into, being around somebody else who'd had the same kind of boredom. I was going into myself too much and it was getting like too tight a circle, as if I was acting as judge, jury, and the lynch mob. Very, very crazy. Begin again. It was time.
"Too much thinking ... and no action. So when I met Steve out there stumbling through broken 7-Up bottles at Devonshire Downs, tripped on my first good taste of mescaline, it was like something straight out of Lewis Carroll-a Mad Hatter's Convention. This girl friend of mine, Rona, and I got separated in all the bodies, but I figured she'd take care of herself. She's the kind of girl that makes phones ring wherever she goes, so I just tried to take the whole thing in. But I was still sort of bummed out by all the people-all the heat and whatever-so I started making it back toward the gate, figuring I could hitch a ride back home and cool out.
"But like there was this total freak standing back by the fence passing out free hits. ... I guess he'd been selling it and had been dipping into his own stash while he was hawking his goods, and by this time, he was out of time and everything else. He looked so zonked and happy that I decided to take a try. His face spoke well for his product, and if he still was on the money trip he could have cleaned up. But he was cleaning up his way, and I just had to give it a shot. For free.
"So I dropped a tab-some blue dots-and before I knew what was happening, everything began to change. Like the other shit I'd had before wasn't there-maybe laced with speed or something. At least, that's what the dude told me when I bummed-tripped it-some counterfeit sunshine or something. The other time it had been some brown powder that we snorted, but I only had a couple of hits and it just got me to the edge-made everything real intense.
"So now here I am-not knowing where, just that it was NOW. It came on slow-nothing flashy like with the first time I tripped. I was just like wandering around through this place that I'd always been, but I'd never quite felt that way. Like I could taste the music, see through sounds-like another dimension that I'd never been aware of. I got this uncomfortable knot in my stomach, like a passing thing and all my senses seemed to cross. It's hard to describe, but it's something outside the range of words-like a brief step past the limits of a human. It makes you realize the forces of energy that exist beyond you. It just is something you can't question.
"So somewhere in the middle of this I get this big flash and there's this guy standing there, like right in the middle of all these people and all of them just like a border around him. Just like there's this tremendously bright aura around him. A golden glow like I'd never seen before. I know it sounds corny, but he practically made my heart melt, made me feel like I was about a step or two soft of forever.
"He was selling antacids of some kind-I'm not sure if he was on an equal time for the ants, or out of Thorazine-you know, to bring people off bad acid trips, but whatever he was selling, it sure was a good flash for me. And I didn't have to drop any of his idea of a joke to get there.
"We both hit it off good from the start. He turned me on to things I'd never been aware of the first few times we went out. The only problem was that my folks and him, Steve was his name, didn't hit it off at all. They thought I'd really freaked out-weren't used to a guy who came on strong the way he did. He wasn't one of their handpicked and socially acceptable ideas of a 'nice boy,' what with his long flowing blond hair, his deep tan, his matter-of-fact attitude.
"In fact, we didn't get to see each other much once my parents met him. And after my mom took me to see her gyno-just to see if I was getting it on. I mean, really-that's what they did. But once they found out that it was the Twentieth Century-shit, no more Steve. That's why having the thing come up with the J-s, the deal with me baby-sitting and all worked out great. 'Cause after they found out that me and Steve had been getting it on, they'd restricted me to my room for a month and had forbidden me to even see him. Pretty frustrating thing, trying to jack yourself off after having a load of meat like Steve's inside you.
"At least when I baby-sat for Bobby, I could get out of the house, away from the boredom of my parents. But as it turned out, I was able to work out a deal where Steve'd come over and we'd ball while the J-s did the town and Bobby did his crib bit. But I'm jumping the gun.
"I can't really describe what went on with us, except that he showed me more about my own body than I ever knew about it-you almost had to be there. Except there's no almost: you either are or you aren't. It just WAS ... only then, when it was really happening, it was NOW. No time for the mind to go and play all kinds of dirty tricks on you. Your body's too busy having a good time to worry about the trivial shit. You just have to try and work for those times, they don't come easy.
"Concentrating on thinking is just a waste at times like that. But Steve showed me how to let my thoughts just fly away. Like on that day at the beach. We didn't know that it would be our last time for a while then, that my folks would come down heavy on us later, but it didn't really matter. About the only thing we had in the way of an obstruction then was that fucking helicopter that patrols the beach. But after it passed over a few times, it left us alone.
"We went ahead and invented our own prize that day-didn't want to let something like that get in our way.
"We found this deserted place on the beach ... something pretty hard to do these days. Actually, it was a section of private beach belonging to some friend of a friend of his. He knew that it was okay to use it at certain times during the week, so the only thing we had to worry about were the occasional passes made by the police helicopters, the ones always patrolling the beach. The way the rock formations around the cove were situated, we had complete privacy from anyone's straying eyes.
"The first time we went down there was at night. I remember I fell partway down this little cliff above the cove and scraped my knees up, but Steve's attention to my wounds made them feel better pretty fast. After we downed a few beers, we stripped down and went skinny-dipping in the cove, but our timing wasn't the best-at least mine wasn't. The beer had made me sorta dizzy, and the tide was coming in. I'm not such a hot swimmer, and it wasn't long before the waves were pounding me up against the rocks, adding more scrapes to my already damaged bod. Shit, this was getting to be more like a course in first aid than one in anatomy appreciation.
"But just like on my accident ashore, Steve was soon there to rescue me from my aquatic misadventure, pulling me to the safety of the beach where he soon took my mind off the battering my body had undergone.
"It didn't take long for me to find out what was really going on. And it wasn't the kind of thing you could do looking over your shoulder. The helicopter had already made its rounds, so we would be able to proceed with the ministration of my first aid.
"After a quick kiss-away of my hurts, not to be in any way confused with a kiss off, Steve got down to more serious business. It was easy to spot the transition.
"'Let's get down to more serious business,' he had told me, and I could tell he meant it from the way his body was suiting the words to action.
"And before I knew what was happening, he was slamming his meat in and out of my box, not too subtle of a transition, but he was too horny to waste any time. I wrapped my hips up around his and got to it, the blanket not doing much in the way of keeping the sand out. But the combination of the evening's bruises, his roughness in taking me, plus the bite of the sand, seemed to add up to a sort of pleasure-pain. The sexual thrills I was getting from it took away the sharpness of my accidental hurts and sort of blended everything into a warm ache-but a good form of hurt, if you can dig it.
"I didn't have much to do with that ball from an active point of view. I just got to lay back and enjoy it. I mean, everything was happening so fast--he'd stuck that rod of his in me faster than I could think about it. It was all I could do to hang on and try and keep pace with his steady fucking. But somehow I managed to come through the whole thing.
"I just grabbed onto whatever I could and hung on for a good ride. Our mouths kept getting lost in the process, breaking away from frenching when we had to gasp for breath, then getting buried in each other's shoulders as we thumped away with our hips. Pretty soon I could feel my guts start clamping up and getting spasms, so I knew I wouldn't be riding this one long. I just grabbed on with my hands and rode it out there under the moon, my man shoving his cock into me faster and faster, sensing I was about to get my cookies.
"Then I felt him shooting his jism up inside me, washing those pussy walls of mine out real good. The jerking of his body under the pressure of his mighty release, along with the shock of his hot spurts splashing inside me, got me off. I just latched on as best as I could with my legs and arms, drifting way off past never-never land.
"But the time I remember best, as far as our beach hideout is concerned, was the first time he gave it to me up the ass. I can remember it especially well because of the fact that it was the last time we got it on together before my parents caught on to our act and restricted me. It wouldn't be until almost another month, when we set up the behind-their-backs action while I was baby-sitting for the J-kid, that I'd get to see him. Of course, that day on the beach with Steve, I had no way of telling that the whole thing was about to fall in on us. We were too busy having a good time to even worry about the possibility.
"That day after we'd stripped down in the relative privacy of our little cove, he dived down on me and started giving me head. I had the rag on, so in some mental way it made me feel all the better-like he really cared a lot for me by doing the rosy rag. But he didn't really fuck around with my tampon, just got the string out of the way and began doing my clit with his mouth. Actually, that's the main thing in giving head anyway, doing the clit. More guys should be hipped to that.
"So he gets me all hot with that tongue of his: rolling it around, clamping down gently with his teeth, sucking it between his puckered lips. Me, I'm going ape shit from the head I'm getting, squirming my ass down into the hot sand and pulling at his long hair with my fingers.
"And just about the time I'm about to go off, he starts blowing big hot gushes of air on it. Oeeee-I really came big that time! He just nosed right down there and lapped up whatever juices could get past my rag.
"I almost had to laugh when I looked up and caught the postreality of the BJ I'd just gotten. Steve was kneeling over me, his face all covered with sand. Or better-mud. Well, the cunt juice, his sweat and all-it didn't really mix that well, but the tiny pebbles looked like mud. I watched for a while, watching it drip off his chin. But I wasn't watching his face anymore. I was looking at his cock.
"But this ain't about a hero sandwich, we didn't have any lettuce, bread or even mayonnaise. Just meat. And that meat made him look like a hero to me.
"It didn't take me long to get back into what was going on. It was then I realized I had the rag on-or to put it more where it fits, in. I started to reach down and unplug myself, but Steve's hand blocked the way, his face registering a negative. 'Turn over,' he told me. Just like that. I turned over.
"It took us awhile, what with the sand and everything, but it wasn't too long before I was bent over on my hands and knees, my poontang waving up at the sky. The wind didn't get much chance to get at the old cooze though-Steve had his cock standing up to it in no time flat. Except he didn't put it to the hole I'd had in mind. No, he was rubbing it up against my asshole, something I'd only heard about up until then. No wonder he'd left my main drain plugged up.
"Not being too advanced in the various forms of balling, I was scared shitless, and I don't mean it as a pun, of him putting it to my asshole. From what observations I'd made on my own, I did know enough that my asshole was much smaller than my box. And the thought of that big pecker of his being crammed up there made me quiver all over. Not to mention the head of his cock right up there against the ring.
"He pushed hard against it, causing a sharp pain to shoot up my tailbone. 'Easy, baby,' he said, trying to reassure me that everything would work out fine. But I wasn't so sure, telling him how it hurt. If it wouldn't have been for his taking time then to explain the scene to me right then and there ... well, I don't know-but I doubt if I'd have stood for it. Up till then I'd never questioned anything he'd done to me. Like I was so flipped over him, plus the fact that he'd been so good with me in between the sheets, it never flashed on me for any questions to come up. But the old bone-up-the-ass routine, or attempt so far, was a jolt to me. Like I had to come up on him about it since it hurt. But he changed all that.
"He gently explained to me that he really dug giving it to a girl in the ass, tried to get me to see his point of view. But that wasn't the part that got to me. He told me that many girls were surprised at just how much pleasure they could get out of taking it up the poop chute. He cautioned me that I would feel some pain at first, but that it would be more than worth it once we got on with it. To put the frosting on the cake, he reassured me that if I found the scene unpleasant, he wouldn't make me do it again.
"Well, I wasn't really that sold on it-but what the fuck, I was his girl. Didn't want to blow the whole scene with him over one thing. Besides, his voice had help in winning the argument: his hands and lips were all over my body, gently persuading my flesh to take over my mind. So I decided to let him have a go at it.
"He wasn't quite so abrupt about it this time. He ran the head of his cock down into my pussy groove to get some lubricant, covering it with a nice gob of my juices I'd oozed out during his head-giving. Then he knelt down behind me again, using one hand to guide his shaft up to my sphincter, while he balanced his weight on my hip with the other. The lube helped some, but I was keeping a pretty tight asshole, so it took some patience and a lot of manpower on his part before he could push past the ring and shove it in.
"Shiiiiit! Smart? Whew, I'd never felt anything like it before. I mean I'd felt pain, but not in the middle of a sex scene. Needless to say, I winced some as he pushed his fat meat up that small hole. Once he was in, the initial sting passed though, and he began moving gently in, an inch or so at a time. It still burned, but I was surprised at how quickly my ass began to adjust to the whole thing. It really gave way fast-not as fast as my pussy, but somehow the rectal tissues seemed to mold to the shape of his cock better, fitting around it almost like a glove.
"The funny thing was the way the pain passed. Like there must've been some lapse of time there, but I don't really remember it too well. But before I knew it, Steve was moving that big cock of his full length in and out of my ass, and I was thrusting my butt up around it to match his timing. Somehow the pain had given way to a pleasurable sensation like I'd never felt before. Whatever it was, it was sure having an effect on the front hole-my pussy juices were flowing fast, threatening to dislodge my tampon.
"Then, just to add to the great rush of groovy feelings, he reached down with the hand he'd guided his cock in with and began to diddle my clit. Whew, when he did that, I practically felt like a sand castle about to be washed out to sea. Shit, this cornholing was all right with me!
"Well, this being my first time and all, it wasn't long before I was coming all over the beach. That cock of his made me feel all tight and good inside, almost the same as a regular fuck. And when that finger struck home on my clit, bouncing it all around like crazy-well, I couldn't hold back long. I came before him, in such a gusher that I had to reach back and unplug the dam, my blood and come running right down my leg to the sand.
"Steve sensed this and plowed away faster, making me fart as my tissues tried to keep pace with that pounding cock. Somehow, I'd triggered his own orgasm and when I felt that hot load of his squirting up inside my rectum, I had another nice bunch of come being dumped out myself. It was so strong that I felt my elbows giving way, my face nosing down into the sand for a perfect three-point landing.
"What had started out as an experiment had proved to be at least as interesting as a regular ball, and that's something I was always voting pro on. But it wasn't until I started seeing him over at the J-s', where I started sitting for their kid, Bobby, that I found out just how much there was to having your ass fucked. Steve and I actually preferred it that way, and after that did it every chance we could."
Pam's discovery of anal sex may seem a bit premature, especially to those who have lived two or three times her duration and have themselves never engaged in such activity. As we stated in the general introduction, however, many young people have come to find a great deal of satisfaction from anal sexual play, an activity usually used (by women) as a means of birth control during past generations. What with so many forms of contraception being utilized today, along with the accompanying wave of sexual permissiveness we find among the young and the more libertine segments of our population, we now find many forms of sexual experimentation, analism being one of the chief modes of such libidinal exercise, taking place for the sake of that Victorian unmentionable: pleasure.
The high incidence of such practices taking place in the baby-sitting environment and, in particular, the high amount of analism shown in this area has much interested the researchers. As it was stressed in the introduction, much sexual experimentation being practiced today is a result of the rebellion against standard mores. While their adventures into the various byways and subcultures have made certain proclivities more noticeable to the surface stratum of society (largely through the expanded power of the electronic media), it is important to note that, by and large, their explorations had tended to be on a more casual and spontaneous level than that of their elder advocates, whose ventures in attempting a more libertine approach to various beliefs is inclined to be of a more formal and rigid nature. Fortunately, many individuals, both young and old, are coming to find that the rationale behind any given action is merely a stepping-stone toward the shedding of guilt and associated feelings that lead to frustration. Finding the rationale is only a step in throwing off inhibitions that prevent enjoyment, not an entity in itself to become merely an all-encompassing attempt to put all your obsessions in one basket, so to speak, so often practiced by pretenders of liberal ideals who have yet to understand that it takes feeling to be liberated.
But whatever pros and cons we might encounter, we do find a definite trend toward a new form of spontaneity developing among the peoples of the Western world, particularly in areas pertaining to their sexuality. That is to say, there is a marked attempt on the part of many individuals to give something-whatever the activity that may be involved-a try before deciding upon whether or not it suits them, a trend contrary to the days of Victorian holdover when so many activities were prejudged and labeled by people never having experienced such things.
However freely a person may express himself in any given form of sexual behavior, there have been numerous rationales proposed by leading psychologists and other researchers concerning how someone may have come to chose any one particular mode of "acting out." In the case of analism, one often finds a form of alternate fantasy fulfillment, often to the point of bordering upon fetishism. From a purely biological standpoint, the anus is proximal to the chief erogenous zone-the genitals-in both the male and female. While in the male, as cited in cases of male homosexual anal intercourse, the prostate gland is directly stimulated by copulatory actions, it has been recently pointed out, in laboratory conditions such as those conducted by Masters and Johnson, that the female, too, can achieve enough stimulus from anal penetration to achieve orgasm.
Yet, in the majority of cases, there is generally a mental byplay involved in anal intercourse that helps exact sexual completion. While this condition does not always imply sexual fetishism, it most usually involves, at the very least, a form of partialism. While much discussion has been aired upon the subject, no exact degree of fantasy involvement has been agreed upon as to finding a cutoff line between the realms of deviation and so-called normalcy. Most authorities, however, tend to believe that any mutually agreeable act between consenting adults that culminates with some form of tactile, reciprocal orgasm (as opposed to, for instance, the clothing fetishist such as a clothesline thief who may masturbate into the object without need of a sexual partner) is generally considered to be an acceptable form of behavior.
While the earlier works of such authorities as Stekel and Krafft-Ebing are often documented with instances of analism-related deviations beyond the norm, Havelock Ellis, in his classic work, Psychology of Sex, came to recognize the important functionings such behavior may have in the normal sexual occurrences between an aggressive male and passive female. He states:
... Freud believes that retention of the contents of the bowels for the sake of pleasurable sexual sensations may occur in childhood; and it is certain that even later in life the contents of the bladder are sometimes retained for the same reason. Children not unusually believe that the sexual acts of their elders have some connection with urination and defecation, and the mystery with which the excretory acts are surrounded helps support this theory....Occasionally it persists in the adult sexual impulse; more commonly perhaps, there is a more or less forced repression of the infantile scatologic interests which may then play the part attributed to them by Freud.
While the more severe forms of such sexual repression revolving around the anal period of development may involve coprophilia, that is, the unnatural interest in the products of the anus, it has generally been assumed that such diversions as anal intercourse, when not actually precluding genital-genital contacts entirely, may be a normal part of the sexual intimacies shared by open-minded adults, and in fact may be, providing the subject is of mutual interest, a great enhancement to the total act.
In a case such as Pam's, there can be no doubt that the repression on the part of her parents had something to do with her being adaptable to having anal intercourse performed upon her. But it must be remembered that she, at an age of dawning sexual awareness, was at the point of openness to any particular form of sexual play, and that her boyfriend helped her foster this need.
"Like I was saying, it wasn't too long after the first time Steve gave it to me up the ass that my parents came down on me hard about him. My gyno snitched on me. I'd picked up a 'social disease,' and my folks were suddenly hipped to just how fast I'd grown up. So it was no more Steve, restriction-that sort of shit. So I just had to figure a way out of the mess. That's when I got lucky and hit on the baby-sitting deal. The J-s, some friends of my folks, had lost their regular baby-sitter, and offered me the job. Since they went out a lot, especially on weekends, they wanted someone they could trust to look after their three-year-old son, Bobby. It had been a few weeks since I'd had that heavy scene dropped on me, so by this time my folks, while still down on my case pretty hard, had relented a little. They figured to go along with the deal, saying that it would be a way for me to 'prove' that I could be trusted. Fuck, I don't have to prove shit for nobody. But I just bit my lip and went along with it. I mean, the idea didn't really make me cream my jeans-especially since most of my sitting would be on Friday and Saturday nights ... but what the fuck? I was restricted anyway. It beat fingering it off in my room. The folks even tried to stress the money thing to me ... saving it for college. Shit, that went out with fucking gas stamps, for chrissake.
"But I dutifully went along with it, figuring the more time I could get in away from home the better. I was getting pretty sick of their faces all the time. And horny. You see, after the first idea was laid on me about the baby-sitting trip, I had time to figure out the positive side. I would have dug that first, but what with the ban on Steve and restrictions that'd been laid on me, I was seeing things in a pretty negative light at first. But when the wheels got spinning again, I could see I was on the right track, heading for something good.
"I was thinking that it would be a good idea just to have Steve come over. It'd be no sweat to pack Bobby off to bed real quick like, and then we could get it on. I tested them out without trying Steve's role out the first time. And it looked like a winner. The J-s' idea of a good time was going out and playing bridge, and they went at it pretty late-like they did such a nightowl routine that they even fixed up a spare bedroom for me so I could sleep over on the nights I sat for them. So the time factor was cool. And my main worry turned out to be no sweat-little Bobby, that is. I was afraid he'd be one of those squalling brats that had to have a drink of water every ten minutes, but he turned out to be a charm: right to sleep, and not a murmur all night. And his folks? Shit, they were so dense that they never caught on to what was going on. Of course, my folks had never said anything about the deal with the gyn or anything. Like they were more interested in me presenting a good public image than in me for what I was. But the J-s' were easy to snow. They thought my head was back in the fifties where theirs was. They thought I was a 'nice well-behaved little lady,' that could do no wrong. So why the fuck spoil a good thing, I always say?
"So the second night they went out, I set it up for Steve to come over. Shit, I almost came the minute he walked in-it'd been a long time.
"I'd already tucked Bobby in and the J-s were going to be out late, so we were all set to let it rock. We didn't fuck around with the social amenities-didn't want to waste any potential balling time with that crap. We just got right down to it, just about tearing our clothes off each other in our rush to get at the skin game.
"The only thing in our way was our clothing. But they weren't there anymore. There we were ... just us. Nothing in the way. So here goes.
Right down to assholes and elbows. ... Some guy in the Navy told me about that one. Only there was a hold on the elbows. And just one asshole-at least one that was intended for the action to come. It was mine. I could hardly wait. But I had to wait for Steve to get hard.
"That item wasn't long in the making. Oh, his cock is long-almost nine inches when it's ready for duty. But it didn't take long for him to get a big hard-on. I mean, who wouldn't get all crazy looking at a bod like mine? Maybe even a fag would be turned on by me. But that's beside the point. And I can't even remember the point.
"Oh yeah, fucking. That's the point. And it helps for the guy to have a stiff cock. What my image in his eyes had already begun to accomplish was finished off by the touch of that body against his. Oh, Christ, it felt good to be in his arms again. It sure as fuck had been a long time.
"As I reached for him, I noticed my reflection in the big mirror above the couch and made a mental note to get out in the sun more. Compared to Steve, who was still a deep golden brown from spending everyday at the beach, I had faded to gray. Well, you could still tell I had a tan from the lines at my hips and boobs where my bikini went, but the long month of restriction had sure sucked up my reserve supply of Vitamin D. Oh well, just as long as my Vitamin E reserve was up. And the long period of forced absence from Steve had pretty well assured me of a surplus in that category. I was horny!
"But the frustration I'd been feeling was instantly a thing of the past as I reached out and touched Steve's large hand. Taking my eyes from the mirror, I quickly copped a look at his solid gold bod, his swelling cock demanding most of the attention, before he moved his mouth up to mine and took my eyes away. Which means I closed my eyes.
"My third eye was taking over.
"I got that itchy-twitchy nervous feeling all over ... running up and down my spine, making me all lumpy-throated, causing big goose bumps to break out on my arms and legs. His tongue raced into my parted mouth and we began a gentle tongue fight, curling our tongue tips as they met, then played hide-and-seek with each other, trying to hide in such places as teeth, gums, or the roofs of our mouths.
"Shit, I didn't know if I'd be able to hold on for the whole act what with the way Steve was ripping off my senses. I was going fucking ape: running my claws deep into his back, pumping my pussy up against his wang, doing all kinds of panting and moaning. Like it'd been long time no ball.
"Steve was getting a pretty fast turn on himself, probably following my lead. But we didn't have time for the usual preliminaries, we just sort of walked our way over to the couch, in sort of a clumsy fox-trot fuck-step, and fell down on it. No time out for tittie play, ass grab-none of that good shit. We were already ready for the real good shit. Or at least second best since we'd gotten used to the ass routine. Well, to be honest, at that time I really hadn't developed my preference for the rear-entry thing-I was so horny that a hot shower would've been enough to get me off.
"So anyway, this was to be a quickie ball. And quickies can be fun when you're both real hot for one. I don't mean the kind where a guy fucks you before you've even noticed he had it in you, then rolls off real quick. But like Steve and I were really hot to get after it after such a long layoff, so we both were ready for it. Like our bodies probably couldn't have stood a real long prelude or anything, we were so horny. Would've spilt all the milk on the sheets. Well, there weren't any sheets on the couch, but who cares? Really. I did, when I come to think of it.
Yeah, that's right. See, the J-s had one of those long Naugahyde-you know, the phony leather things-sort of couch and it was my first time on one in the altogether. Like you sort of stick to it, but it feels sort of groovy. Kind of adds to the balling.
"So anyhoo, Steve is on top of me and stuffing his pecker down my cunt. No time to even fool around trying to pry my asshole open-we were both too close to coming, what with the excitement of getting it on with each other again. We were saving the best part for dessert. That's what we sometimes call cornholing.
"I know that's an out-of-date term, but even at fifteen I'm an out-of-date chick. I'm really an old-fashioned girl at heart-I mean, what are kids coming to these days. I wouldn't be surprised if Bobby wasn't getting his rocks secretly watching us-training wheel sex. But I'm only kidding, old kidder me that I am. And that's the truth (I'm a liar).
"So Steve settles down right on top of me and gets after the old cooze with his pecker. Outstanding! He was ready to ride and it didn't take long to find the saddle. I almost shit when I felt that long slim slider of his slip into my berth, but decided to try and save those kind of trips for later. I wrapped my legs around his sides, my knees squeezing his kidneys, and hunkered my ass down around that cock-let 'er rip.
"And he did let fly-about ripped me a new asshole. Except he was in my cunt. About ripped me a new one of those. He did, he did. But like Steve always says, there's really no such thing as almost-you either do or you don't, so I still have the same cunt in good used condition. And what he did in that first time over there at little Bobby's was a big part of the conditioning. It was quick, but fun. Like our feelings were so intense that we packed a lot into that couple of minutes. I had a sore cunt the next day to vouch for it.
"As soon as I adjusted to the fast tempo, I curled up on my back, placing my head over his shoulder, and clawed up his back with my fingernails. It added to the rocking motions, but shortened my hip-pivoting potential. Didn't matter since we did it so fast, but even so, the small of my back got an ache in it from doing it that way. But the ache didn't last long-the swells of pleasure his swinging meat was giving me soon dissolved any other feelings and washed them ashore. It all was just adding up to one big tremendous rush of good feelings. We got sweated up real fast, too, and beneath the deep roar of our unstable breathing excercises I could hear the ripping sounds our bodies were making on that Leatherette couch. As I rocked back and forth, I could feel it, too, my skin sticking to it sometimes, making this stinking burn whenever I lifted off it. Once or twice, Steve's knees lost their positioning and made a fart-like sound as he moved them back up to rub into a new spot. But he never missed a beat, keeping all his cock prodding away at my pussy with each sure stroke. I had a good cunthold on him-my pussy was practically fluttering around his stiff bone, gasping to hold back the certain flood I was close to letting go of.
"From past experience, I was able to tell that Steve was about ready to blast loose himself. He slowed his pace a little, his body shuddering involuntarily like he does before he comes. Up till then you would've needed a slow-motion camera to capture our moves in regular motion, if you follow what I mean. But now, he changed the pace a little. He lifted his head and gave me a look that almost said 'I'm sorry,' his eyes all glazed and unfocused. But he caught my look and saw that I was going just as fast as he was, so he didn't feel so bad. Nothing wrong with coming early as long as baby gets to make it, too.
"So he went at it again, slamming that dick of his into me hard and heavy, using slightly shorter strokes than before. I just wrapped my arms and legs around him and shouted as much encouragement as I could-'Oh, fuck me, Steve!' and so forth-but they got lost in between my pants and moans as I gulped to keep breathing. And then I felt him letting go of his load, the hot splashes going way up inside my tummy. I got the hot flashes from those splashes and my mind went all gummy, giving way to my own nervous output.
"He slowed down again, pumping in his full cock till his balls flapped against my ass, holding it for several cockspurts, then pulling about three-fourths of the way out again before slamming it to me full shaft. I just about flooded him out though, my come washing against his spermspurts to mix and run back out on his outstrokes. My cunt was making a nice warm whoosh-whooshing sound as he mowed my grass, the sticky fluids running out with the vapors inside me, down my matted pussy to dribble in a tickling fashion across my butt to the surface of the Leatherette couch beneath me.
"That was about it for then. We just let it slide, kissing and talking small talk while we waited for his prick to get hard again. Like Steve can sometimes just keep a hard on forever, going through his nut a couple, maybe three times without losing it. Not all guys can do that. I've since found that out much to my displeasure. Usually, though, that happens the second time around, once he'd retained a bladder full of piss and got that old favorite-the piss hard-on.
"I'm not quite sure about the passage of time involved, but in a little while, maybe fifteen minutes or so, Steve leaned down and started revving the action up-tempo. I like that. Especially when he began hinting around about the time on the beach-that time right before my restriction when I'd had the rag on. And, most important of all, I found out that I had an asshole-or better, that it was for more than just shitting purposes. Back then.
"So he started hauling it to me, giving me one of the biggest charges I'd had in a long time. For at least fifteen minutes at any rate. So we fooled around a little more, which means that we fooled around. The details are sorta fuzzy in my mind now.
"The first thing I remember is when he started inching that big fuck-stick of his into my asshole. That was a feeling that's hard to describe, but I'll do my best. Like, I was looking forward to it, ever since that time on the beach. Well, this was bound to be a classic.
"He'd had me bend over the edge of the couch, my body from the waist up lying down on the cushions, the bottom half sticking right up in the air and ready for gang busters. Good as any way to get your ass shafted. And to stop my thinking, his subtle way of preparing me for that first sharp jolt when the cock rides through the ring, he began rubbing my back and leaning down to blow kisses on my hair. Made it real-well, romantic. To me, there's no more poetic and beautiful moment than the prelude to having a big hairy cock rammed up my ass. Just crammed full of all sorts of lyric possibilities.
"So there he is filling my head with sweet talk as he takes his job in hand and gets it ready for the match game. My fever was roused up and rising-no danger of me breaking down from some sorta terminal mediocrity, or anything like that. It was going to be some kinda earth-rumbling, I could feel it in my butt, and that's where my home is. And if my main home-you know, the old ticker-gave out during the house-quake ... well, it'd just be an accident. Nothing for me to worry about anyway. I mean, what a drag that'd be. Sitting back and letting somebody else have all the talking done for you, like all those people who say that 'this ain't good for you and that ain't good for you.' So afraid that having too much of a good time'll give you a heart attack or something. And then, if the ulcers don't slow their worrying down, they probably kick off from a coronary themselves. Like at least I've learned that we're all gonna come to that time anyway, so you might as well get your kicks for yourself and have a good time on the way. When you're dead, you'll be that way a long time.
"So after he's primed my mind with all the nice nothings, he gets set to pump the hose up my ass with everything. As I feel him guide that head of cock up to my spread asscheeks, I get an itchy-twitchy feeling, my asshole sputtering in a slight involuntary nerve remembrance, even if my mind is shutting out the possibility of pain.
"So he drove his bone up my ass. And it felt great-no pain. He had to push it a little, but somehow it just went in soooooo nice and EEEEEEZZZeeeeeee ... mmmmmmmm-mmmmmmmm good. Just maybe it was that my mind was focusing on the good possibilities, that I wasn't as scared as the first time. Something made it much smoother. Man, what can I tell you? It flat out put my cheeks in a chunk and my cheese in a cast.
"This time I hardly felt any pain at all. I'd had a bit of pain from my piles ... you dig, hemorrhoids? Runs in the family-the assholes! But anyhow, I'd gotten used to feeling a little bit of burning in the old cobhole just walking around doing my everyday things. So that weighed in. And Steve had all that good old gluey slime all over his peterhead from our first fuck-that helped the quick slip-into my lower berth. And really important-Steve had gotten a hard on again. That helped a whole bunch. An asshole will chew up and spit out a limp dick almost before you can get it in. All this, coupled with the fact that I'd learn how to loosen up, like unclench the old tight-ass, and maybe some more reasons I don't even know about-this got his cock up my ass and ready to ride.
"It's hard to think of all the reasons. Those are the kinds of things you do when you're all by your lonesome and have nothing better than to dine on the past and dream on the future. When it was actually happening, I didn't have much time to be doing all that thinking. I just had to accept the reality of it. I mean, when it's right there in you, and you're having a good time, what's to question? It just IS.
"Tack up that meat, sweets, and we'll be heading right out of here,' shouted Steve over my shoulder, and I could feel the smile of satisfaction shooting up from my tailbone. Shit, nothing had to be said. The main thing is that we were both feeling it, sharing it. We were gonna ride this one out to the station. And just hope to work it all out: a ball-buster for him; a big old poopshute-packing old ass-screwing for little old me. Soon, my ass walls wrapped round it and began to get accustomed to having that cock in me and began rocking back to deepen his thrusts. Me sticking my ass back with each of his forward thrusts; him doing vice versa. It ain't exactly balling the jack but it beats the bum's rush.
"Pretty soon, he was moving faster, driving that meat nearly full-shaft up my ass. He did some other things to make our little diversion go farther off the trolley tracks, like running his hand around and working over my tits, and leaning down every once in a while to plant a kiss on the back of my neck, or maybe pull my hair gently with his teeth.
"Neat stuff like that.
"I tried to reach back and grab at his balls with my hand, maybe to mash them real nice when he stuck that prickshaft fully in me, but I couldn't quite cut it. I really went for that ball-mashing, but it was a little out of my range considering my position and all. But at least I tried.
"As it was, we were pretty busy with the main point of action. Even though my clit was receiving only what friction it could get rubbing on the couch, which wasn't much to speak of, so I won't say much about it, I could feel my guts knotting up and feeling like I was going to come. Almost like I get fucking up front-only different. And even better. I know that crap about a man getting his prostate massaged through anal intercourse, but I'm not sure what part of me gets it since I don't have one of those. Somebody told me once that it was due to the proximity of the sexual parts anyway. Whatever they meant by that. Another person told me it was all in my head. I punched her in the mouth. It wasn't so much what she said, as it was that big dildo she was wearing over her cheerleader's skirt. I left the game in a hurry.
"Whatever it was, it felt really good! You can fuck up a lot of wet dreams by trying to heap them with meaning anyhow. It just felt right, so I used that as the rule of thumb. I could tell I'd be asking for lots of assaults from the rear in the future. But even that didn't happen until afterwards. Right then I didn't have my mind on the future. It may have been a step or two past perfect, but getting it in the ass was definitely becoming my thing. And you can't argue with logic like that. Nothink. It's a great state to be in.
"But even such states as that can't last forever. In fact, those states especially. But it got better before it got worse. All this time, my in-sides were churning and twisting, just building up my cunt juices. Me, I was letting cunt farts besides the regular variety, just trying to hold on as long as I could. Old Steve was getting close to dreamland himself from the way he was beginning to moan up there.
"Pretty soon, I felt him shoving real hard and fast, and I pumped my slippery hips back to bang his balls as hard as I could, about ready to get my nuts myself. Drawing me up to the edge, the very brink of ecstasy. Closer and closer. And then ... the firecrackers, the explosion-the whole ball of wax. My asshole started spurting and trembling, and then he hit me with a hot load that sent me farther out. He'd come, too. Not exactly in a clean style but it was our special way of fun.
"I even gave him head afterwards, just sure that this was my favorite road to have plowed. The nutty smell of his blood, sweat, and come-drenched box lunch added to the thrill of it all. And I swallowed it all down.
"It went on like that for a long time, but not long enough as far as we were concerned. My luck turned again when the J-s came home and caught us in the act. Folks just blew the whole thing again. Sent me to a headshrinker and the whole mess. I sure did miss Steve for a long time after that-got real tired of trying to beat the hot dogs to the slicer."
Pam's sexual discoveries may be premature and, to some, a bit off the standard script, but with psychiatric care she received she was able to piece together some of the blocks. As a part of her therapy, she had several sessions involving her parents, and while the case worker kept some of her more intimate confessions from her deeply moral parents, the basic rifts that divided the family were at least eased. At the present, she is still undergoing the final stages of her period of psychoanalysis, involved in a group of her peers which has helped the once isolated girl realize that her problems are not so unique, that there are others like her who have had difficulty coping with what seemed to be an alien world.
As far as her analistic preferences are concerned, she soon was able to find that her difficulties were not so much a symptom of a time warp into infantilism, but rather a matter of circumstance. Her meeting with a young man of such a partialistic nature at a time in her life when she had known practically nothing of the opposite sex had made her easy prey for nearly any form of warmth. Her prognosis, according to the group director, is highly favorable, as attested by her improved grades in school along with a newfound popularity among her classmates.