Chapter 4
THE HIGH-SOCIETY SYNDROME
" 'Oh, Stanley,' I scolded. 'I know your parents are gone all the time, but that still doesn't mean you can come over here at just any hour of the day or night.' I glanced at my watch, and told him, 'It's after twelve!'
"Stanley's eyes studied the carpet between his feet, and from the pained expression on his face I could see that my brusqueness had knocked the wind out of his sails. This realization saddened me momentarily because Stanley was such a bubbly kid around me. Since my sister and her husband were hardly ever at home, I had more and more become a mother to Stanley, and frankly, it had been mostly my own doing that the boy now relied on me so heavily.
" 'Is it too late to come in now?' he asked.
"I was still disgruntled, but I did my best to be friendly. 'My God, darling, I was asleep.'
" 'I'm sorry, Aunt Francine,' Stanley answered, now squirming from foot to foot on my new hand-woven gamboge carpet. I know this was a new experience for him, for I never before failed to show real familial love-but then, he'd never come unannounced and uninvited at midnight, either.
"Finally, I relented. 'Oh, Christ, come on in and make yourself at home.'
"Stanley stepped forward into the main foyer. Now that my eyes were focusing a little better, I saw that my nephew seemed very different tonight: he seemed drained of his usual vitality and I thought I sensed a greater loneliness about him than usual. And that really got to me-the poor kid, or poor rich kid, rather, lived the most friendless, empty, oversupervised existence a person could imagine. Think of it, fifteen years old, and walking around with a heavy heart! I made up my mind.
" 'Stanley, what did you tell that scarecrow governess of yours?'
" 'I told her that you called me to come over. I guess I sort of lied.'
" 'I'd better call the old bitch right now and straighten things out.'
"I picked up the hall phone and dialed. Finally the butler answered and I asked him to get Helen, the governess.
" 'Hello?'
" 'Helen, this is Francine. I'll be keeping Stanley tonight.'
"Just as I suspected, the old prune started right in, asking me things like, 'Do you think it's wise?' I listened to a couple of more words and then hung up on her. Goddamned know-it-all servants. Thank
God my own were off that night.
" 'What was that all about?' Stanley asked.
" "That bitch always forgets that I'm part of the family.'
" 'You mean she questioned you? '
" "That's the way I heard it.'
"Stanley looked at me in a funny way. I knew he could sense how I felt, and he was probably inwardly happy to know that another governess was about to bite the dust. That's right-that bitch would be out on her ass as soon as Stanley's parents returned. I wanted this boy to have only the best, but on the other hand, I wouldn't ever tolerate being questioned by the help.
"Then Stanley said he had to go to the bathroom. Since he had me completely awake by this time, I told him to meet me in the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
"Over the coffeepot, I tried to put things in perspective. During the past year, I'd seemed to have Stanley with me more and more. It was really senseless for him to have a governess, for that's essentially what I had become. And I have to confess that I was finding it agreeable.
"He was a great kid, but so many things were missing from his life. That's probably why I had become so protective towards him. His mother had turned into a pureblood jet-setter and she and her husband spent all their time flitting from parties aboard yachts in the Mediterranean to lunches in the Bahamas-when they weren't on safari, that is. But I also knew the truth about that marriage and all its millions-and I just kept away from it. My sister had developed a whole new morality in the past few years and she was all the time telling me about these great parties where nobody kept track of who slept with whom. Beneath that well-bred exterior of hers, she had the morals of an alley cat, and her husband encouraged it. Well, I'm no prude, believe me, and I've slept around a bit myself since my husband died, but there's a limit to everything. I remember one time not more than a month ago when she and I were talking about her latest venture, and Stanley walked into the room to tell her something. She was in mid-sentence, telling me about the party, saw Stanley and acknowledged him with a nod, and then continued right on, saying, '-it was one of the best parties we've been to; two whole glorious weeks of continuous fucking, and I'll bet I went through every man there at least once, and a couple of them fucked me a dozen times. And then we had these pairs aboard who go for the troilism bit and I tried a few of them-' and she would have continued on with all the details of her troilistic fucking, too, but the phone rang. I remember looking up at Stanley to see how he had accepted all this, and I couldn't fathom him at all. For the most part, he pretended not to have heard anything, but when I glanced at his crotch, I saw that a good-sized bulge had appeared. This puzzled the hell out of me. Could Stanley have had a sexual thing for his own mother? I really had no way to assess that hard on of his, and had wondered about it many times since. To be perfectly frank, I had even dreamed about the damned thing once.
"And, just as I wondered about Stanley, I think that he wondered about me. I know for a certainty that he was attracted to me, but I didn't know just what kind of attraction it was. Usually it seemed to be a parental thing, at other times it was a deep friendship; always it was a questionable thing in my eyes because Stanley was becoming a little man and his eyes always seemed to undress me just like adult men's did. Jesus, if Stanley ever found out about that kid-that beautiful olive-skinned musician-that I picked up in Mexico City a few months ago! He had been the same age as Stanley, even looked a little like him, and I just succumbed. There's no other word for it. That kid learned more about fucking and sucking from me in a week than he probably could have learned in five years otherwise. Anyway, what I'm getting at is that I have wondered repeatedly if I screwed that boy for some obscure and sublimated reason floating around somewhere in my unconscious. I have wondered again and again if it was actually the image of Stanley that I was blowing and fucking for a week straight, or just a nice Latin boy and no more. I do know one thing for certain. That was the first kid I've ever laid, but not my last. I discovered that I dig young kids more than anything in the world.
"Just last week Stanley and I had gone up to the mountains for a Sunday picnic. It was a most innocent thing, but after we ate, I had stretched out with my head in his lap and fallen into a light sleep. But even in my sleep, I sensed that Stanley was greatly preoccupied with my body. I'm sure he had copped a feel or two of my legs, and when I awakened, he was stroking my hair and my forehead.
"I guess I should just admit to myself that Stanley and I have had a strong attraction and attachment for each other, and that it might not be so innocent after all.
"Anyway, the coffee was ready and Stanley had still not returned. One reason why this was so odd was that it had happened quite a few times lately. It seemed as if Stanley had developed the habit of taking a half hour in the bathroom each time he went. Out of curiosity, I decided to investigate.
"I went first to the main bath off the master bedroom. Empty. Then I checked the two guest room baths, and they were dark and also empty. Except for the servants' quarters, the only other bathroom was out near the garage, adjacent to the laundry. As I approached it, I could see the light was out. Something told me to slip off my shoes, which I did. Then I approached slowly, sensing that Stanley was nearby. Tiptoeing up to the bathroom door, I discovered it, too, was empty, but about the same time I heard Stanley's voice, very low, muttering some unintelligible thing to himself. He was close, wherever he was, so I went to the next room, the laundry, and peeked around the doorjamb. What I saw petrified me.
"The moonlight gave a slight relief to the darkness and I could see Stanley standing over one of the dirty-clothes baskets, from which he had taken a pair of my dirty panties, which he was holding to his nose. As a matter-of-fact he had them opened in such a way that the crotch was stretched fully over his nostrils just as if it were a chloroform mask. He was breathing in and out very deeply, and his tongue was also licking the fabric right where my cunt had soiled it the most. In his other hand lay his cock, and, Jesus, what a cock it was. Oh, I don't mean it was a monster or anything like that, but it was a nice fat six-to-seven-incher that lots of grown men would have been proud of. He wasn't really jacking off, it didn't look like; rather he was massaging it very slowly in long, full strokes. In the moonlight the head of it glistened as if it had been painted with acrylic lacquer. Obviously, droplets of come had been oozing out the head. I could tell by Stanley's motions and mutterings that he was attempting to hold off his come for as long as possible.
"My recent thoughts all poured back in upon me all at once. I remembered everything again, and it all fused together, and all of a sudden I knew perfectly well what it was I wanted.
"And then, I was galvanized into action.
"For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to barge in on him and seduce him on the spot. Hot as I was-and brother, that slick hot goo was gushing and slushing around in my cunt about this time-I still had presence of mind enough to know that I wanted to seduce Stanley in some way where he'd feel as if he had something to do with it. Maybe I wanted to help him preserve his budding manhood or some such thing, I don't know. All I know is what I did.
"Hurriedly, thinking all the time about him almost ready to come, and wanting desperately to prevent it because nothing turns me on so much as a good cuntful of the stuff, I rushed back up the corridor about twenty paces, turned around and began approaching him again. This time I was loud, and called his name. Just as I got back to the laundry room, Stanley was emerging from it. A good recovery, I thought-his pants were zipped, everything seemed in order, except for a telltale, leftover half-hard on, which I naturally noticed.
"Instead of asking him why he was in the laundry room, I thought it would be best to dismiss it. Instead I said, T was getting worried about you. Come on, the coffee's ready.'
" 'I was just washing my hands,' he offered lamely.
" 'Oh,' I answered, letting him know it didn't matter.
"In the kitchen, I decided to play it straight, but fast. I was so hot by now that I nearly just reached across the table and grabbed my poor nephew, but somehow I held back. I did do one thing, though, to make sure that Stanley wouldn't forget about sex. I still had on my pink peignoir with the little filmy satin panties, and while Stanley sat primly sipping coffee, I perched myself on the corner of the table, so that my darkly shadowed crotch was pointing right at him.
" 'Stanley,' I began, glancing down at his bulging prick again and realizing that I actually had gotten him out of there with that initial load still in his balls, 'do you remember that nice afternoon in the mountains, where I fell asleep in your lap?'
" 'Sure,' he answered.
" 'Did you enjoy it?'
" 'Yes, I did,' he answered, very seriously. " 'If I tell you something very confidentially, will you promise not to tell anyone?' " 'Of course.'
" 'Well, Stanley,' I confided, now aware that his eyes could barely stay off my ass, 'I had a dream while I was asleep. I dreamed that you were running your hands all over me and, well, I got very excited. You know what I mean, don't you?'
" 'I think so.'
" 'What? What do I mean?'
" 'Well, I think you mean you got ... hot.'
" 'Right! Exactly right. I'm surprised you know about such things, Stanley. I mean, you're only fifteen. I'm proud of you.'
" "Thanks, Aunt Francine, but ... is that all of it? Is that what you wanted to confide in me?'
" 'Well, isn't that enough? I mean, after all, I am your aunt and you are my nephew. Those aren't exactly everyday thoughts for someone like us.'
" 'Oh.'
" 'But, to tell the truth, there was one other thing I wanted to say about that day. I discovered that I enjoyed sleeping with you. Very, very much. It was such a comfort, especially now that I seem to get so lonesome all the time.'
" 'Hiked it too.'
" 'Well, that's what I was getting to. Since you're going to sleep here anyway, and since we enjoy snuggling together so good, I was thinking maybe we could do it again, only this time in a real bed. I know I'd love it, but you'll have to promise to be good.'
" 'I will, Aunt Francine; I certainly will. I'll do exactly as you say.'
"I felt like a satisfied Persian cat. I hadn't gotten to him yet, but I could almost hear his young prick throbbing in his pants. I saw him look quickly at my snatch and his face seemed to flush a bit. That was the tip-off; I knew I was getting sopping wet down there, and I suppose a little of it was seeping through the satin. Just to check, I sniffed deeply, and, yes, there was a beginning cunt-smell in the air. I lifted my ass languorously off the table (and it was a good ass-once, years past, an artistic lover I had known in New York said that in tight panties, I had a 'sculpturesque' ass) and I beckoned for Stanley to follow. He did, though with obvious trepidation.
"In the bedroom, I was nearly frantic to get things going, but I knew a proper seduction would give him a memory to savor all of his life. Hot as I was, I was prepared to force myself to do it right.
"Stanley stood near the bed, seemingly awaiting instructions. Poor kid. He was both terrified and beside himself with arousal.
" 'Well, get your things off, honey, and hop in.' " 'Okay,' he answered, a light quaver in his voice.
"I pulled the covers back and climbed in just as I was, peignoir and all. Stanley stripped to his shorts and climbed in, too. Just as might be expected, he turned his back to me and lay stiff as a board. I lay flat on my back and considered my next move. At length I said, 'Stanley?'
" 'Yes?'
" 'Stanley, there's one thing I must mention while I'm thinking of it. It has to do with our aunt-nephew relationship.'
" 'Yes. What?'
" 'Well, I'm going to have to ask you to make a promise. You're going to have to agree that you'll never tell a soul that we slept together.'
" 'Sure, I promise-I understood that anyway.'
" 'Yes, but do you really understand how important it is?'
" 'Why, I think so.'
" "That's not good enough.' As I said this, I reached over and touched his arm for emphasis, tugging just a bit to bring him to his back. Now talking, at least, would be easier. I leaned closer to him and added, 'Don't you realize what would happen if anyone found out? If the servants, for example, found out that we had slept together, they'd automatically assume that you had fucked me.'
" 'What?'
" 'You heard me. They'd think you were sticking your prick in me.'
"I could tell that got him a little. He was stock still. I added, 'And that's called incest. Boys are not supposed to fuck their aunts.'
"I rolled over toward him a little and whispered in his ear, 'So we'll just be sure and keep this our little secret, and then nobody'll be able to spread filthy stories about you sticking this...'-and at that point I ran my hand over the front of his shorts' ... prick of yours up in my cunt.'
"I'm sure he shivered. I relaxed back into my previous position on my back and pretended to be dozing off. I could sense that Stanley was wide awake, probably staring at the dark air, and that he undoubtedly would love to have my hand back on his cock. But I was by now bound and determined to make this a lasting experience. After a few moments, I sat up and said, 'Damn, this thing is uncomfortable.' " 'Huh?'
" 'Oh, I was just trying to get to feeling natural. Listen, Stanley, do you think it would be safe if I slept nude like I usually do?'
" 'Why sure, I guess so.'
" 'Are you sure?'
" 'Sure, I'm sure, Aunt Francine.'
" 'Well, okay,' I murmured, and sat up to slip off my things. Then, as if remembering something, I jumped up from the bed and went to the window and opened the drapes. The moonlight streamed in-the same moonlight that had outlined his gorgeous prick in the laundry room-and I made sure to slip out of my panties while still framed by that moonlight so that my whole body appeared to Stanley as a moving chiaroscuro. Then I hopped back into bed, making sure to get a little closer to the center, and then I asked him, 'Aren't you going to take your shorts off, honey?'
" 'Oh, well ... uh ... no, I guess not.'
" 'You should, you know.'
" 'I should? Why?'
" 'Because that hard on will feel better if you let it spring out.'
"I could hear him gulp. Poor Stanley. He was so hot the bed was trembling. But, I should talk ... my poor cunt was killing me by this time.
" 'Here, I'll help you out of them,' I offered, and leaned down and snapped a thumb under the elastic on each side of his waist. Before he could think about it, I slipped his jock shorts down and off his feet. Then I came back up and let my fingers graze over the length of that marvelous prick, finally applying a few light touches at the base of his balls. 'Now, doesn't that feel much better? It can stick up in the air all night long and it won't get that strapped-up feeling.'
"He groaned a little and my heart did a little flip. Finally, he had acknowledged what was happening. I got bolder.
" 'Did that feel good?' I asked.
" 'Oh, Jesus,' he moaned. 'Yesssss ... I never imagined....'
" 'Want me to do it some more?'
"Stanley gurgled out a weak 'yes,' and I felt a wave of new power sweep over me. Though I realized how mean I was being to extend this seduction like I was, I felt the strength of the universe flowing into my veins and I could not stop. I rolled over to my nephew to tease him some more. I actually grabbed his hot prick in my full hand this time and massaged it a little bit, talking to him again as I did so.
" 'Stanley, I just thought of another problem we might have.'
" 'What?' he answered, in a disinterested sigh.
" 'Well, I toss and turn in my sleep. If I accidentally toss the wrong way, I might wake up and find this nice hard prick of yours jabbing way up high in my pussy. There sure wouldn't be anything to hinder it.'
" 'What do you mean?'
" 'Here. Give your finger and I'll show you.' I grabbed his hand, rolled him to me a bit-using his prick as a handle, sort of-and put his single middle finger right into my steaming hole.
" 'Get the idea?'
" 'God, that's wet. And hot.'
" 'Sure it is, honey. That's what I mean. Your prick would just slide right in. Probably wouldn't even wake me up.'
" "That's hard to believe,' Stanley said.
" 'Well, it's the truth. And if you don't believe me, I'll prove it to you.'
"He didn't answer, so I took my cue. In a quick move I got up on my knees and straddled him. 'Now you just watch how easy this goes in.' I reached down below me and finally did the thing I had been burning to do for the last fifteen minutes-I laid the tip of his glistening prick right into the sopping hole between the folds of my hungry cunt, and then I simply sat down on it! I guess I can't really describe adequately what a supreme and delicious delight that was, and for purposes of telling the story it will have to be sufficient to say that my nephew's prick was full and strong and fat and that my seething cunt needed it desperately. In one uninterrupted in-stroke of unbelievable ease and warmth, the boy's long, fat prick slid directly in up to the hilt, and it felt to me as if it must be a yard long and imbedded to my lungs, at least. It wasn't the biggest prick I've ever accommodated, but it was plenty big enough, and about twice as much as a woman would expect from a fifteen-year-old.
"Settled down as far as I could get, I felt Stanley's balls snuggled against my ass-cheeks. They apparently were pulled up tightly against his cock-shaft like two fists, rather than hanging loosely. Those two balls, as well as my ass-cheeks, were heavily lubricated with the juices dripping out of my cunt, and even the mingling hairs of my cunt and his pubic regions were sopped and stringing together. Altogether, the whole area down there was as gooey and slippery as two old-time wrestlers swabbed down completely in warm axle-grease.
"And to make it all the more marvelous, I could feel the head of my nephew's cock twitch every once in a while, giving full proof of its life and energy.
"I sat absolutely still. That's all there had been, that one sitting-thrust. I wanted more than anything in the world to raise myself up and let my whole body fall into that hot prick again and again, but that would come in time. For now, I wanted to pursue my little game.
" 'See?' I said. 'It just went right in. It's all the way in right up to your balls. Now what's to prevent that from happening accidentally?'
"Stanley was trying to move his prick up and down a little inside of me. I sat down firmly to prevent any friction, and added, 'Stanley, didn't you hear me? You aren't answering.'
" 'Oh, God, Aunt Francine. It feels so good!'
" 'Sure it does-it feels just as good to me. But we can't actually do it with each other because ... well, because people just don't fuck their relatives.' i
" 'But we are doing it!'
" 'Oh no; this is just a demonstration to show you how dangerous it could be if we got careless. If we were really going to do it, I'd get on my back and let you sock your prick into me as hard as you wanted to, until you shot a big load of hot cum up inside me. That's the difference between actually fucking and just demonstrating, like this!' Even as I said this, my cunt made a large and surging involuntary gripping on his cock and almost betrayed me. For that matter, I was so hot I could feel an orgasm coming on, rising up to the skies, just while I was sitting there motionless! Somehow I held it back, because when it did come, I wanted the full thing, and I wanted it to be with Stanley.
" 'Jesus, Aunt Francine, I'm starting to feel....' " 'Yes, yes, I know, darling. You want to come, don't you?'
" 'Oh, God, more than anything!'
"I don't know how I was holding back any longer. Sweat was stringing my hair and my breathing was rapid and shallow, and I'm sure my flesh was flushed and chilled at once. Now I had to hold off just a bit more, just another little bit-if I could.
" 'Stanley, if I let you shoot your cum up in my cunt, are you absolutely certain you'll never tell a soul?'
" 'Oh, yes, Auntie, yes, yes, yes!!! '
" 'And will you promise to do everything I tell you to do when it comes to sex?'
" 'Anything-ANYTHING, just let me get on top of you!! '
" 'Absolute promise? Be sure, Stanley, before you say, because I might hold you to it the rest of your life.'
" 'I PROMISE FOREVER!!! '
" 'Alright, darling, but you don't have to get on top. Just close your eyes and let me do it.' And then finally, after having agonized myself almost to the point of insanity, I raised my body so that his turgid, raging prick was almost out of it, and I then I slammed to the hilt, feeling that good young cockhead jam up into my cervix. Stanley groaned mindlessly. Up again to the point of near-withdrawal and down with all the power I possessed-and Stanley began to tense. Up again--DOWN; up again-DOWN-DOWN; up high this time-AND DOWN LIKE A PILE DRIVER!!!
"And that's all it took, brother! About five or six strokes. That's how hot we both were. Stanley's body convulsed, and a half-stroke later, I felt my own insides tighten up like a clenched fist and then let go, as if the universe had exploded. Moist sounds then reached my ears, and at the same time I felt the hot spurt wash against my whole insides and come cascading down my vaginal walls to meet the new spurt and all the juices mixed together and the whole bed area under us was sopping and we were drenched in each other. My own orgasm matched Stanley's perfectly and we crested with each other and then collapsed together, my head nuzzled into the hollow of his neck."
In order for the reader to understand the true nature of this case history, we must call upon certain additional ideas concerning sexuality. Up to this point, we have been dealing with the basic concepts of pedophilia and incestuous consummation of half-blood relationships. Now, for the first time, we have an example of all the foregoing, augmented by the stress form known as sadomasochistic response in the dominant female. Here, in all the glory of its day-to-day occurrence in every stratum of our society, we are confronted with an aggressive woman employing all the wiles and whimsy of the pursuing female, hi a relationship where it is patently unnecessary.
Francine could have had Stanley on any terms she wished. She knew this. Nor did she have to invest weeks or months or years of playacting into this seduction; any indecision or torturing of self was a voluntary choice on her part (except in the final psychologic sense, where nothing is really voluntary). In truth, Francine had only to sort out a few items in her mind, at which point the die would be cast. Later, it will be seen that Stanley's scatologic performance in the laundry room did actually play a catalytic role in Francine's final decision to seduce the boy, but we believe that if it had not been that, it would have been something else, since the seeds of seduction had been present for quite some time.
According to the interview, knowledge by both parties of Stanley's mother's promiscuity could have contributed (as an indirect motivation) to the awareness of the incestuous possibility in the minds of both Stanley and Francine. However, in all fairness, it must be mentioned that observable suggestions of this nature rarely act as prime triggers. Not every boy who sees or knows of his mother's promiscuity is so directed-for that matter, such observations more often drive the sons into a new and restrictive moralism, where, for reasons not quickly explainable, they attempt to atone for the "family sin." In the diverse world of psychology, there is very little direct emulation, even of parents. Emotive and psychical responses are usually once-removed (at the least) from the focal point.
Allowing that pretty much the same motivational elements exist in this history as in those previous, we must mention two additional factors: the element of great wealth (Stanley's parents were coupon clippers and their stockbrokers had instructions to deal through management firms unless ten million or more was involved; Francine was on a similar level-having inherited the holdings of her husband's banking interests), and secondly, the element of Stanley's isolation from the world which resulted from all this wealth. Stanley could walk the three blocks from his parents' baronial mansion to Francine's rambling estate (there were no other houses in between) at will, since it had been established in both homes that Francine was essentially the final voice in Stanley's affairs. In effect, she was his mother. Given the earlier comments we have made regarding the mother-surrogate, it can be readily understood that the consummation depicted in the case history thus far did indeed have the symbolic value of maternal incest for the boy.
We are left with the new element, the sadomasochistic quality of the first consummation. Francine was playing a game, one which caused both Stanley and herself relative discomfort. True, this is the game many women play with men in a day-to-day framing; when they tease a little and then stop short, they accomplish two things: (1) a power gratification which translates into both recognition and achievement, thereby affording the woman a method of relieving anxieties stemming from self-doubt, and (2) a release from accruing tensions having to do with sadomasochism.
Sadomasochism is related most closely to what the eminent Harry Stack Sullivan has termed the malevolent transformation. In his book, The Interpersonal Theory of Psychiatry, he tells us: " ... one of the great social theories, you know, is that society is the only thing that prevents everybody from tearing everybody to bits; or that man is possessed of something wonderful called sadism...."
Expanding on the theme that natural outlets prevent our steam from accumulating to the bursting point, one might indeed think of sadism as a blessing rather than a curse, but before it can be decided whether this is sophisticated reasoning or specious, one must inquire what we would have if we had no sadism. Presumably everyone would be under control until sanity left.
In a less general sense, sadism is a stress-release function whereby an individual must now and again test his (suspected) powers in an act of dominance and superiority. To inflict pain is demonstrably equivalent to having one's own sense of worth reinforced. This is so because, for the moment, the sadist becomes ruling and omnipotent, from which perch immunity is guaranteed from criticism. We have read of a case where a sadist could not wield his whip hard enough to satisfy the masochist, and after receiving scathing criticism from the masochist, the sadist gave up and then simply sat down and cried.
A telling example of sadism at work in its most simplistic form can be shown by the child who tortures the wings off flies or paints the cat. Here the child is saying, "See? I am omnipotent. I can do to you what my parents can do to me." Sadism is usually an exploitative displacement of a fear of self-worth, regardless of the form it takes and, oddly, masochism is much the same. Only the additional element of guilt is present to activate the masochist into something more (and more complicated) than the sadist. These two aberrations are sides of the same coin.
The masochist, in the act of seeking and then accepting pain, is in effect saying, "I am not worth so much as those about me. This is because I am bad, and I am bad because I have done bad things and thought bad thoughts. My guilt is burdensome, and I can only wash it away if I am punished properly."
As it happens, both sadism and masochism (or sadomasochism, if one prefers) are cumulative in stress value. Just as carbon monoxide accumulates in the body until finally it takes only a little bit more to kill, the stresses of sadomasochism (the feelings of guilt, of inadequacy, the need for omnipotence) accumulate little by little until a lethal dose resides in the host. Then he or she must act (or face great psychic consequences). Thus it is that acts of sadism and masochism are born.
Sadomasochism exists, as does practically everything, in varying degrees. We have, for example, the "soft" sadisms and masochisms, as exemplified in our case history of Francine and Stanley.
Francine is satisfied in a simple hurt (withholding herself from the same person in whom she has induced great arousal), and with simple self-hurt (the same denial); however, her meanness is more evident in the staging and scene-setting than in the acts themselves. She had a need to be as teasingly provocative as possible, and to be devious in the bargain. All of these things are the same ball of wax, psychologically speaking, and only help to substantiate what we have already observed.
Further considerations become evident as we go on with the history. One eventually comes to wonder just what kind of a sibling relationship the sisters had when young. It becomes clear as we proceed, that certain highly advantaged people sometimes have difficulty in finding new ways to compete with one another. Finally, within the limits of the narrative, we shall attempt to deal somewhat with Stanley's scatological attraction and saliromania.
" 'If you want the truth, Stanley, I really got turned on when I saw you in there in the laundry-room, sniffing the crotch of my panties.'
" 'I've been doing that for a long time-over a year.'
" 'Now you won't have to anymore.' " 'How's that?'
" 'Well, wouldn't you rather get it from the source than secondhand?'
" 'Gee, I never thought of that, Auntie.'
"The sun was streaming in through the window, the servants were still gone, and I was laying next to the most wonderful nephew a woman could ever hope to have. My God, I thought, how could I have been passing up this kind of action? I should have introduced Stanley to the mysteries of life a year ago. And he was such a great sex student!
That second fuck last night, with Stanley on top and my legs wrapped up around his shoulder blades; that was just the end of the world! And young kids like him seem to have so damned much stamina! Just fuck, fuck, fuck. Every time I asked him to give it to me harder, he did! Now what grown man would think of being like that? Every big-time stud I've been introduced to seemed to be interested in himself, his own satisfaction-maybe that's why I've gotten so turned off on these playboys and princes and dukes and actors that my sister's been bringing home for me. Well, she can have them. I'll take kids; and especially, I'll take Stanley. Jesus, what a doll!
"I guess it would be wrong to say that we had a third fuck last night. And yet I'll bet Stanley came about five times and me about twice that number. The reason I say that we never had a third fuck is that he never took it out.'. '. ' And, if memory serves me properly, I don't think he even got soft until the end of it. My pussy was tingling so good, and so full of hot cum, that I'll never forget the feel of it. Stanley's last come frankly didn't amount to much, a couple of drops at most, and I thought I'd die laughing the way he sort of just rolled off me and collapsed. I'll bet he was asleep in three seconds. I was very proud of him-and myself-and I dropped off to sleep thinking of all the things Stanley and I could do. First, I would have to do something about the servants--that could be real danger. And then there was my sister to consider. And then there was nothing more to think about, so I rolled over and threw an arm over Stanley, grabbing his flaccid prick, now a little piece of worn meat not much larger than a Vienna sausage.
"And then the sun was streaming in. I was in the same position and so was Stanley, and I still had a firm hold of his cock, only it was no longer a Vienna sausage. Now it was more like a plump knackwurst. It filled my hand so that I could barely close my fingers around it.
"Slowly, very slowly, I began stroking it. Up to the top, down to the bottom where his nice tight balls didn't seem very small either. Touching those balls made me think of all the cum they had furnished for my hungry cunt, and the thought occurred to me that I should get up and douche before my cunt got real stinky and crusty.
"I was actually on the verge of getting up and bathing, and then I happened to remember that Stanley had gotten some kind of sexual satisfaction while sniffing my dirty panties. Well, if that's what he liked, far be it from me to deprive him. I got the satin panties I had been wearing the night before off of the floor where I had thrown them, and then I took the crotch part and wiped my cunt with them. But the outside was kind of dry and flaky. I drove some of the crotch up into the hole with a finger and wiped it around, but most of the cum was up further and I couldn't really get to it. I tested the panties and they had a fairly cunt-like, dank odor, but it simply wasn't enough for someone like Stanley.
"Then I had a thought. Obviously when Stanley had enjoyed my dirty panties the night before, those panties had had an accumulation of cunt odors in them, including, probably, a few drops of piss. I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, panties in hand. After pissing, I wiped myself with the crotch of the panties instead of toilet paper, and that was just the added touch that was needed. I tested them again and they had a rich, deep, brackish-herring kind of aroma. I was very pleased.
"Back at the bed, Stanley was supine, so I just laid the panties on his face, with the inside of the crotch area right over his nostrils. Then I waited.
"After a few moments, Stanley seemed to start breathing deeper, as if he was having a bit of difficulty getting air through the fabric. Much more important, though, was what was happening to him down at the other end. I saw the covers begin to rise a little bit in the area of his prick, so I uncovered him completely, and I was greeted by the most gorgeous piece of meat a girl could hope for, and it was sticking straight up in the air, blue veins throbbing and the pink circumcised head greased and slick from droplets of cum.
"Stanley's deep breathing continued. I decided to wake him up slowly and delightfully. First, I climbed down between his legs. His legs were together, so I had to spend valuable minutes getting them apart without waking him up. Then I crawled upward and started licking him under the balls and around the base of the cock. After a bit of that, I started making long stroking laps beginning underneath his balls and going all the way to the tip of his prick, just exactly the way a kid licks an ice-cream cone to keep the goodies from running off the cone itself. At length, I capped the top of it with my mouth and ran my tongue around the head, getting the whole thing good and wet. Then, as a final warm up, I took the whole thing in my mouth and went up and down on it a few times, just enough to coat it with saliva. Actually, I don't care much for sucking cock, and I've never done it any more than necessary to get a man good and ready. As far as letting a guy come in my mouth, no thanks! I know there are lots of women who love it-Stanley's mother is one of them-but it just doesn't turn me on.
"Anyway, when Stanley's prick was ready-that it, when it was dripping wet and rigid as a pole-I came up for air and crawled up so that I was straddling just like I had been the night before, only this time I was very careful about waking him. I got up over him in such a way that no part of my body was touching his. It was quite a feat and I had to contort myself to keep my legs far enough apart and my cunt high enough so that I could get up to his midsection without any skin contact. Finally, I made it. My cunt was hovering over the head of his prick like a praying mantis over a victim. I reached beneath me and took his rigid prick in-between two fingers as gingerly as I could, and then I laid the head against my now well-lubricated cunt.
"My nerves were on edge. I was trying so hard to do this right. I have no idea why it seemed so important for me not to wake him. It seemed at the time that I was drawn between two different feelings-first, I wanted to take advantage of him, and, second, I felt that this should be a-private ecstasy that I should share with no one. It would be almost like masturbating, but without any of the drawbacks, if I could pull it off.
"Very gently, with the touch of a brain surgeon, I lowered my body. A tenth of an inch at a time, no more. I felt contact, and froze immediately. I watched his face, with the panties still bathing his nose, but he gave no signs of waking. Again I touched, and this time I reached down to open my cunt. When his prickhead touched, there was someplace for it to go, and now I allowed myself to settle down maybe a half-inch or so before I stopped. My whole body ached from the strain of perched motionlessness, but I wanted to keep checking his face for a response. By this time, I had gotten awfully hot, and besides the muscular strain, there was another reason why I wanted to sit all the way down.
"Little by little I lowered myself. I had an almost irresistible urge to raise myself too, and make a stroking motion of it, but I suspected this kind of thing would wake Stanley. The way I was going at it, though, I was by now nearly crazy. I decided to get bolder; I lowered myself a whole inch, about, and it seemed for a worrisome second that Stanley had awakened. But he settled back to deep breathing. I lowered myself again, and by this time I must have had four or five inches of cock in me.
"I couldn't stop descending this last time. I just kept going until I felt my inner legs brush against his hips. He was still asleep. I settled all the way down and felt his nice fat cockhead jam up tightly against my cervix. I felt overfull, like someone with too much turkey in him, but it was absolutely wonderful. I settled completely into a relaxed position and then leaned forward, so that my tits were brushing Stanley's chest. I checked one last time-he was still deeply asleep.
"I went into my act. My husband-and others-had told me that I had the most educated pussy in the business. But those kinds of platitudes don't mean much when you know the guy is just trying to get you to lay down again. Just one more reason why I dig kids so much. They're artless, but they're sincere. Anyway, back to my act: I strained my stomach muscles, as if to pull in my gut to get into a new dress; then I let that contraction work lower, until the groin muscles were pulling together, much the same as when someone tries to pull their ass-cheeks together. Next I started a belly-dancer type of muscular roll between the lower intestine and the cunt. Little by little I could feel the normally unused muscles of my cunt limbering up, so that by now Stanley's prick was being gently jacked off by something that I had been told felt very much like a closing and opening fist. That's why my boyfriends called me a 'snapper.' I had, first of all, a natural talent for this sort of thing, and secondly, I had spent long hours of practice, developing those certain muscles as much as possible.
"I stepped up both the tempo and the grip. Soon I was constricting and relaxing very rapidly, and I'm sure that Stanley's prick was being gripped very strongly. It shouldn't be too long before I had some results, I thought; a few contractions more should do it. I worked my little ass off. I gave it all I had. Faster and faster.
"The first thing that happened was that my panties came flying off Stanley's nose. His hands were rubbing his eyes, and his very first waking motions coincided perfectly with a good hot spurt of cum, followed by a quick and even more copious second, and all of this was happening at the very instant he was regaining consciousness. That's got to be called 'coming' awake. By the time the third spurt of cream shot up in me, I had begun an honest-to-God physical up-and-down motion, and I furiously milked off the rest of his load.
" 'Oh, God, yes, yes, YES!' he was groaning, as soon as he got his voice. Just about the time he was fully awake and comprehending, however, his come was just ending. Poor boy. It took some time for him to really understand the whole thing, however, and I had climbed completely off of him before he sensed that this was a beautiful way to wake up and that he might want some more of it.
"Shortly after that, while I was lying there on my back with my eyes closed, savoring the wonderful warm feeling of a cuntful of young-boy cum, Stanley decided that he needed some answers to questions that were bugging him.
" 'Francine?'
" 'Yes, darling?'
" 'Do adults do that every morning?'
" 'Some do, most of them don't.'
" "That was great. Jesus, that was super.'
" 'Why, thank you, you beautiful boy. I'll tell you what, though, since you seem interested. If you were staying with me regularly, I'd wake you up that way every morning-every morning I woke up before you did, that is.'
" 'God, I can't imagine anything better than that.'
" 'Okay, it's a deal. But first, we have to get something settled about where you're going to live. It's going to require some thinking, believe me.'
"Stanley seemed to savor that information, and then he thought of something else. 'Francine,' he asked, 'when I first woke up, wasn't there something on my face-a handkerchief or something like that?'
" 'Yes, darling. A pair of my panties.'
" 'Oh? How did they get on my face?'
" 'I put them there.'
" 'You did? Why would you do a thing like that?'
"I turned to him and opened my eyes. 'I saw you in the laundry room last night....'
"And that's the story of how Stanley and I got into our conversation that first morning. As I've mentioned earlier, I then told Stanley that I thought he would enjoy getting his odors and tastes from the source, and now the time had come for me to explain to him how that worked. I wanted to be sure not to do or say anything that might spoil things....
"After thinking this out for a few minutes, I said, 'Stanley, tell me, have you ever sniffed anyone's panties other than mine?'
"He looked sheepish a minute and then answered softly, 'Yes.' " 'Whose?' " 'Mom's.'
"Somehow that shocked me a little bit, but after thinking about it another minute it didn't seem so awful after all. I asked him, 'Were hers as good as mine?'
"He seemed to flush. In a very low voice he answered, 'I don't know.'
" 'Well, were they different?' " 'Yeah, I guess so.' " 'How?'
" 'Well, you know Mom goes on lots of trips and things, and when she gets home she's always got dozens of pairs of dirty panties. It seems like hers always have a variety of smells-every pair is different.'
" 'Well, you know why, don't you?'
" 'No, I don't think I do.'
" 'Well, you know as well as I do that your mother gets a lot of strange fucking. I guess every man's come is different.'
" 'I ... never thought of that.'
" 'I could provide you with an assortment, just like she does.'
" 'No, oh no, Aunt Francine, don't do that.'
" 'Why? Don't you want me fucking other men?'
"'Hell no. Oh, my God, no! I want you for myself.
" 'Why, Stanley, that's about the nicest thing anyone ever said to me. You can't know how much I'm touched by it.'
" 'Well, that's how I feel.'
" 'Wonderful. And that's going to make this morning's lesson that much better.' " 'Lesson?'
" 'Sure. Remember, you already said you'd be interested in getting closer to the source.'
"And that's how I got Stanley started in the ancient and honorable art of cunt-eating. He took to it like a kitten to a saucer of milk. All I had to do was touch him and he sprang down between my legs, which I spread wide. Then I lay back languidly, shutting my eyes. There is absolutely nothing I like better than to have my cunt eaten. I've never said no to anyone who wanted to eat me, and I've even paid good sums of money to various people, mostly women, for a top-notch job on my cunt. So far as I'm concerned, an expert tongue-job is worth just about my sum of money.
"But this was going to be different. Already, without Stanley even having touched my cunt, I was as hot or hotter than I had ever been, and I knew that even if Stanley did it clumsily, I would enjoy it immensely-just because it was him doing it. It was the idea of being eaten by my nephew which appealed to me first; the prospect of the thing feeling great was definitely secondary.
"I instructed him, first of all, to take a good look at my cunt, to open it up and poke around inside, and then to examine all its parts with his fingers, too. Then I told him to lay his nose as far into the crack as possible and inhale real deeply. Then I asked him if that was as good as sniffing panties, but his reply was muffled, and I didn't repeat the question.
"Next, I taught him all the usual things-about licking up to the cunt gradually, about blowing into it, and how to lick the lips apart. He especially loved exposing the pink insides, and when he ran into the oozing leftover cum rolling out in little streams into the crack of my ass and around my ass-hole, he began licking it up without having to be told.
"We spent some time like that, because I didn't want to rush my lovely nephew. But nothing stands still, and I was anxious to get him star on the technique that tears me out of my skull.
" 'Stanley,' I murmured, like a contented cat. 'Are you ready for some more instructions?'
" 'Umm hmmmm,' he muttered.
" 'Alright, now start running your tongue from my ass-hole all the way up to my clitoris.'
"He did that.
" 'Now, Stanley, this time when you get to the clitoris, stay on it about ten or fifteen seconds, then back off and go back to the ass-hole and start over.'
"He did this, too, but he didn't linger long enough on my clit.
" 'We're going to have to do it in rhythm, Stanley. Now do it like I tell you. I'm going to start counting, slowly, like this: one ... two ... and so on. Now start flutter-tonguing my ass-hole and do that until I reach the count of two. All during the three count, make the long, slow lap up along my cunt lips, dipping inside the hole with the tip of your tongue when you pass it; and then try to time it so that you reach my clitoris on the count of four. Start waving your tongue at it as fast as you can, but just barely touching it, and hold it just like that until the count of ten. And then we'll start over. Have you got that?'
"He mumbled something else that sounded like a yes. Then before the start of this serious business, I propped my ass up on a pillow, so he'd have as fully exposed a cunt as possible. Then I threw my arms akimbo, shut my eyes, and told him to begin. I told him that I would count for him until he got the rhythm. He then rearranged himself so he'd be more comfortable and also so that he could cup a hand under each of my buttocks and sort of eat me like an open melon. Then, when he was ready, he let me know and I began counting.
" 'One'-he give me about six or seven flutters on the ass-hole-Two'-he began the open-tongued lapping upward, then dipped quickly into the hole-"Three'-still going upward, timing perfect, he passed the flanges of the paper-thin, little red inner lips and landed on my clitoris right on the count of-'Four'-and when his tongue did hit, he had it going like a hummingbird's wings, and he held it just like that, a little harder, a little softer, but all of it just perfect, and it lasted-'Seven'-so nice and long, and-'Eight'-then he quickened the already beautiful fluttering-'Nine' and then altered the touch some more, and I was-"Ten'-just about coming!!!
"He began again, and I knew I would make it this time. Jesus, I don't think anyone in the world had ever been as sizzling hot as I was just then. Again, he hit the ass-hole, and I began my count, then up to the slit:-
"-and he stopped.
"I opened my eyes to see what was happening.
"Stanley was up on his knees and cum was running down his chin. He was looking towards the door, and just as I turned my head to see what it was, I heard Stanley say, 'MOM!!! , WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?'
"I suppose that everyone faces things like this sometime or other in their lives. For me it was a funny moment, and my mind seemed to quickly rush over all the feelings I had for Clarice, Stanley's mother. We'd had good feelings for each other-and bad. She had some fine qualities, but, like all humans, she sometimes did some petty things. I guess I loved her in my way, but she had become something of a stranger these past few years. Her jet-setting had changed her drastically. I suppose that in the final analysis she was a good sister. I had no complaints.
"But I was momentarily scared to death, and deathly embarrassed. How often had something like this happened in the history of humans? How liberal a view had jet-setting given Clarice? Why was she back so soon? Underneath, I'm sure I was trembling.
"Stanley repeated, 'Mom, what are you doing here?' Then, ludicrously, he added, 'How long have you been there at the door?' as if it mattered, as if she hadn't seen enough just the way it was.
" 'Hello, Clarice,' I said, still in the same spread-eagled position.
"Hello, Francine,' Clarice answered, with neither a frown nor a smile.
"Then Stanley lowered his head and voice both and added his hello.
"There was yet another moment of pained silence, and then finally Clarice said, 'Looks like there's just as much going on around here as there is at those parties I've been going to.'
"I smiled at her, as if to say she was perfectly correct. Clarice went on, 'Well, that's all over anyway. I'm getting a divorce.'
"Stanley and I both studied her. It had been such an out-of-place thing to say. Clarice had not so much as acknowledged that her son was eating her sister when she barged in. However, we had not long to wait to find out her true reaction.
"Clarice stepped fully into the room, removed her coat, and came over to the bed where I still lay as open as ever, and where Stanley was trying vainly to hide his prick between his legs. She sat down beside him and reached down. She grappled with his clamped legs a minute or two, then finally extracted her hand with Stanley's still-rigid prick in it.
" 'I can't believe it,' she said to herself. "The last time I saw this thing, it was about an inch long. Now look at it. Why, it's absolutely lovely.'
" "That's how I felt about it,' I added.
"Clarice was stroking it a little now. She was sitting on the bottom of the bed where Stanley was and could see directly into my cunt just like" he could. Glancing at my cunt and then back at the bolt-hard prick in her hand, she asked me, 'Has he fucked you with this yet?'
" 'Yes, we fucked all last night, and then once this morning. I was just teaching him to eat me.'
" 'Stanley,' his mother said, 'I think you had better listen very carefully to everything Aunt Francine tells you. If you learn properly, you could be a great stud. Why don't you let me see what you've learned so far?'
"Stanley looked at her, and then at his prick still lodged in her hand, and then dipped low and once again began fluttering his tongue against my ass-hole. This time we did it without an audible count, but it was pretty much the same. When he lapped up the length of the slit this time, however, he had to stop long enough to swallow the cum, which had been sort of accumulating in drips right at the hole. When he got to the clitoris, he fluttered his tongue for about the same duration he had before, but when he tried to leave the area, Clarice bent down, pointed her finger, and said, 'Give it to her right there a little longer, sweetheart.'
" 'Yes, Mother,' Stanley mumbled.
"I noticed that Clarice was stroking Stanley's cock gently as he was eating me. I could see the head of it glistening. And so could she-her eyes were glued on it.
"Once again, twice again, Stanley performed the ritualistic cunt-lapping, and I began my come. It was building right from the start. He gained the ass-hole again and began his third ascent, and the top of my head was blowing off-'Oh my good Christ!' I screamed. 'Aaaaaaahhhhhh, ohhhhhh, oooo-' And then when he finished me off at the clitoris, the whole goddamned world came apart in shreds and I just sank into a warm ball of quivering, semi-human flesh. And then there was silence.
"A very mysterious silence. I looked up.
"It was such a tender scene. Stanley had laid back, and his mother, Clarice, was hunched down between his legs, and believe it or not, she had every inch of that beautiful cock imbedded deeply in her throat-so deeply that her lips were flush up to his pubic hairs. And the poor kid must have been hotter than ever. Even, as I watched, I saw Clarice's throat working, and I heard the faint sound of peristalsis, and I knew she was swallowing a goodly flow of liquid.
"Later, that evening, after a full day of swimming and chatting, we all shared a good dinner followed by vintage wines. In the course of the conversation, we made plans for an around-the-world voyage by steamer-a year-long affair, maybe. Plans for the three of us, I might add. And then, we mused, maybe another year in a hideaway, somewhere-just the three of us."
Unfortunately, we have had no opportunity to follow through the progress of this case history. Much of the data that would comprise valuable "fill-in" material is missing, and therefore any usable prognosis is not possible.
In the course of early therapy and even earlier interviews, a somewhat functional profile of Francine was charted, and from that point the therapist was able to expressly formulate a plan which would have served to lessen the anxiety of her incestuous guilt. She discontinued her therapy at a most inopportune time, however, apparently piqued that the therapist had even suggested such a thing as "guilt." It is something of a commentary on human nature that each of us sees ourself as essentially guiltless, while at the same time our unconscious mind knows better. While there is little evidence in either this narrative or in the other interview material, there is good cause to believe that Francine is developing guilts of so serious a nature that her life may become unmanageable at a later date.
The chief concern should be the teenage boy, but of him we know nothing beyond Francine's narrative. We know very little more of Clarice, the mother. Therefore, the most serious of the incest ties cannot be made a subject of serious comment.
And yet, within the admitted limits of recreating this most interesting history, we feel we have accomplished the fundamental purpose of writings such as these-to inform a readership whose curiosity is helping to expand the awareness of all Americans.