Chapter 6

SISTERS UNDER THE BLANKET

It becomes easy, in a study such as this, to generalize, but in the case of lesbianism, it is irrefutably correct to state that few, in this vast land of ours, realize the prevalence of female homosexuality. This writer had a personal friend who is now serving a 20-to-life sentence in a state prison for the crime of killing the lesbian lover of his wife! I bring this up only to point to the fact that, in 99 out of every 100 cases of "crimes of passion," as the news media still call them, involving extramarital sex, are merely dismissed by most juries as "justifiable homicide." IF-that is, the offender in the marital bed happens to be a male!

Due to the very pattern of living in America, female homosexuality, which we call lesbianism, is easy to hide and extremely difficult to detect. This is because of the women's clubs, the incidence of "pals," kissing, embracing, etc. If two men meet and kiss, everyone instantly surmises (and usually rightly in America) that they are homosexuals. If two women meet, even casually, kiss, embrace, even feel buttocks or breasts-little is made of it, except to tab them as "good friends."

For these reasons, lesbianism is widely unrecognized, unless-as so many of the more militant lesbians today are going-a girl chooses to go openly the way her sexual nature dictates, and joins one of the many lesbian societies. It is interesting to note that there are three major male homosexual societies, but at least fifteen lesbian organizations.

Another factor is this: Lesbianism is much easier to practice than homosexuality, in our society. Two neighbors can, for example, visit in each other's homes for hours, and no breath of scandal touches them. Sisters, (of whom we are talking in this chapter) may spend days together, and nothing is thought of it.

One such incident of lesbianism is Jill's story:

I was 16 when my sister, Jo, married. I was a virgin. I swear to God that I had not had any lesbian leanings nor had ever had any male or female sex-outside of a few feels here and there, from boys, in the movies and at parties. Sex-wise, I was a dumbbell.

I never liked Cal, Jo's boyfriend-whom she married. Why? I'll tell you why. From about the second date that she had him at the house, he tried to feel me up, and was always patting my ass, feeling my breasts-trying to get into me, in short! That's why. Besides, it wasn't my place to say so, but he was a ass and a drunk. I think everyone in the neighborhood knew it, but Josephine. I found out a lot later, he'd tried to even screw my mother!

So, maybe I approached the whole thing with prejudice, but I had a lot of reasons. Anyhow, after Jo had been married about a year, I knew she wasn't happy. Don't ask me how I knew-sisters know those things. We were close, like a lot of sisters are, but not overly so. We didn't talk a lot about the things that really mattered-know what I mean? But we had a sense of what was right or wrong about the other one.

I used to stop over to Jo's place at least five times a week, and I went over this one Monday night. They had had a party on Saturday, booze and all that, and I hadn't been invited. Our parents are real religious-I mean, the whole route, so Jo thought it would save a lot of arguments for me if she didn't ask me over. So, I stopped this Monday, after school, a couple of hours before Cal was due home from work. Jo was home, all right. She was in a housecoat-a frilly, feminine thing that I'd always liked. But, she was nervous and she was having a hard time to hide her tears. I noticed it right away, and I tried to be sympathetic, without being nosy. I noticed how she kept crossing and recrossing her legs, as if something hurt her. Finally, I asked her what was wrong. She stood up and threw her housecoat wide open, showing me the ugly bruises-and what I thought were teeth-marks-on her thighs. High, inside, close to her genital area. I said something in a tone of sympathy, and then she took the lips of her cunt and opened them, sticking the hairy thing almost in my face.

"He bit me!" she moaned. "He chewed me all to hell! You can't see it, I suppose, but he chewed me all to pieces-here!" She put a hand down to cover her cunt, and I realized for the first time, what a beautiful body she had, down there. I'd seen her a hundred times, naked, but I'd never realized what a pretty crotch and breasts she had. But all I could see were the big, ugly purple and green bruises, right up to the lips of her cunt! And all I felt was compassion! She started to bawl, and all I could think of was to reach out, grab her legs and give whatever ease and comfort I could give. I know it sounds corny, but that's what I felt inside. I just wanted to caress and kiss away all those ugly bruises-make her happy, the way I knew her.

And, I did kiss her. First, the thighs, then closer to the lovely spread of hair. I could see those lovely lips sticking out at me, and I remembered how she said he had chewed her all up inside, and I wanted to get inside, to heal and help what that sonofabitch had done! I got on my knees, kissing her thighs, my hands around her ass cheeks, but gently. I just kissed and kissed her, until I found my tongue inside her lovely lips. She squatted, so I could really get to her from underneath, and I stuck my tongue in as far as I could, while I kneaded and caressed the ass cheeks, and put my little finger up in her ass-hole. I don't remember if I thought anything, except to try to stop her crying. I honestly don't. The only thing I knew was, we were close again-sisters, like we'd always been, before that no good bastard came along and got into my sister, whom I adored.

I remember yet, how she looked down at me, sticking my tongue into her cunt. I think, at first, she felt embarrassed, then a little sorry for me, but she didn't say anything. I reached up and touched her nipples-she had nice, round, pert little breasts, that I'd always admired, and hoped I could duplicate. She began to respond. She spread her legs, squatting a little more and at last, she put her hands around my head and pulled my mouth in tighter, moving my head up and down to help me with my licking and tonguing motion.

She pulled me away, and bent over and kissed me, like she had never kissed me before-like I'd never been kissed by anyone. She opened my lips and slid her sweet, warm tongue into my mouth, winding it around my own tongue, probing, darting, until I thought I'd go ape. "Let's go into the bedroom and do it right," was all Jo said.

I followed her into the bedroom, and she began to undress me. As she was doing it, she kept on kissing me, my neck, my mouth, my breasts. Then she laid me down on the bed and she crawled on top of me. She fitted her cunt to mine and began a rolling, rubbing motion while she played with my nipples, then began running her fingers up and down over my ass. All the while, she was kissing my ears, then sticking her tongue into my mouth until I began to grow wild with want. When she slid down and spread my legs, I wanted her tongue inside me more than I'd ever wanted anything! She slid her finger inside my wet, throbbing vagina, moving it about expertly, it seemed to me. Then she began tickling and licking my clitoris with her mouth, all the while moving her finger inside me. I propped myself up on my elbows, so I could see her and it added to my enjoyment of it.

Jo was a beautiful girl with a strong, dominant personality, and it seemed to me that, for the first time in my life, I had won her real attention. I'd sort of admired her from afar, and in a way, I had always feared her. Now, here she was, with her total efforts being given over to my pleasure! She was hungry for me, working her tongue in and out, her finger moving inside me, discovering erogenous areas I never knew I had, until I finally had a wild, bursting orgasm. She still stayed there, sucking and using her fingers, meanwhile, masturbating herself with her other hand, until I had a second, much quicker orgasm. But now, I wanted to do all this to her. I pushed her gently away, rolled her on her back and began kissing her mouth and neck, working downward on her lovely body. I used my tongue to wash and sooth the ugly bite marks, then nestled my nose and mouth in the sweet-smelling hair around her cunt. I began licking the outer lips of her box, darting my tongue inside it now and then to touch her clitoris. I ran my finger up inside her vagina, trying to remember the spots inside me that had responded so wildly. I knew I found them by her writhing motions. I settled down to sucking and licking her cunt, trying to bring her the same ecstasy she'd given me. When she came, she grabbed my hair and held my mouth to her cunt, saying over and over: "More, lover, more!"

I was in fo'r a big shock of another sort that day. I asked Jo about the bite marks, and she broke down and told me the whole story. I guess I must have been naive, but I had never suspected that Jo was a lesbian since she was in her early teens! I recalled the extremely close friendship between her and a school chum, and Jo told me that it was this girl who had introduced her to lesbianism. She was still having lesbian sex affairs when she married Cal, and it had led to serious arguments early in their marriage, because of Jo's need for oral sex, right to orgasm. Cal had wanted to lick and suck Jo's cunt as a part of foreplay, and when she continued to insist that he bring her to orgasm that way, he balked. She admitted that after she had an orgasm from his mouth and tongue, she found it difficult to submit to normal sex, with Cat's prick inside her. This was the reason, in fact, for his having bitten her so savagely the night before. They had had a big argument about Cal wanting to get right into Jo, without all the sucking and kissing of her cunt. When she had held out for it, he had begun to bite her-he had even bitten her clitoris, and the lips of her vagina! The argument had ended with Cal warning her that he was going to take her to a psychiatrist, to cure her of her liking for what he called "queer sex!"

It died down for a time, but the coldness between Cal and Jo caused a complete breakdown in their sex relations. Meanwhile, Jo and I continued to make love to each other, although she felt guilty about having introduced me to lesbianism. I told her she hadn't, that I had wanted to kiss her cunt that day, but it didn't help. She began to get nervous and irritable, and she and Cal fought constantly. Finally, he started drinking heavily and staying out nights-all night, sometimes. He told her bluntly that he was fucking any woman he could get, and would go on doing it unless she "straightened out and became a woman."

Admitting that she really did love Cal, Jo eventually went to a psychiatrist and then entered group therapy. I became like a lost, lonely lover that had been jilted. (My lovemaking became less intense, and finally, Jo told me it was all over. I screamed at her that she couldn't do that to me, but she pointed out that she had never made any advances, all those years she had been a lesbian.

I went to live with an aunt, in Oakland, California. I went to the University of California at Berkley for one semester. I had a lot of lesbian friends there. Then the hippie crowd started to take over-at least, the bunch that I ran with, and I couldn't go for the bi-sexual bit. I tried sucking a man's cock-I never could allow one to be stuck inside my cunt-but I couldn't make it that way, either. I hooked up with an advertising company, demonstrating appliances in stores across the western states, and I met Laura there. I guess we recognized each other as lesbians from the moment we met. We slept together that very first night and we've been together ever since. We are active in a lesbian society, and we no longer pretend. I never knew how wonderful love could be until I went out into the open with it. I can't help what I am, and wouldn't change it if I could. I doubt if Jo, my sister, has really licked her problem-and it's a problem because she makes it one. She's a bi-sexual, I am positive, and even though she and Cal are living together, I doubt if they are half as happy as Laura and I are. I know, you probably think that I am not qualified to make a judgment, because I've never actually had a man's prick inside me, but you're wrong. I know that sex with a man, even one you might love, can never equal the emotional impact that love from a woman gives. We have women in our society, Daughters of Bilitis, who've been married, and most of them have had men. They can't all be perverted or twisted, can they.

Lesbian love, most experts agree, does provide that extra emotional and even spiritual uplift that Jill refers to. By the very sexual nature of man, he cannot be as gentle, patient and spiritual in his lovemaking as can a woman-at least, not without cultivating the trait. Jill is one of those women who is now leading a productive life, and society can have no quarrel with her. Judged by our normal standards, she is an unfulfilled woman; from hers, she is completely happy. In each of us, there are feminine and masculine genes and factors. In a majority of cases, they remain in proper balance. In a few, such as Jill's case, they are so severely overbalanced that it is sensible to recognize that she very likely is living the best life for her. At least, she seems not to be laden with guilt and knows no frustration in her lesbian role. This, in the final analysis, is what life is all about-happiness, when not at the expense of other human beings.

Prostitution and lesbianism have been believed to be closely intertwined, for many decades. It is difficult to make accurate conclusions in this theory, simply because prostitutes do not talk to researchers, police or psychiatrists, as a rule. However, most prostitutes, whether truthfully or not, relate sad stories of their being driven into prostitution by the brutality of a man, or of several men. If this is true, then medical science knows with certainty that the same conditions and thinking which drive a woman to sell her body, can, and often do, influence her strongly toward lesbianism.

Many prostitutes hate men. This is an accepted fact in psychology. It is also known that human beings cannot live successfully without love. This is a world of checks and balances; actions and reactions. If hate for men exists in a woman, it is almost automatic that strong liking or love for women must eventually appear.

In the following case, we have an opportunity to judge just how much truth there is in many of the statements of lesbians as to the reasons they choose this unnatural way of love and sex. The older of the two sisters is still a working prostitute. She is known to this writer (as she is to many others who do not know her true story) as a photographer's model. She poses for supposed "camera bugs" in a studio in Los Angeles. Police watch these studios carefully, for any indications that one may be a front for prostitution. In them, males come and pay for photographing nude women, either in group activity, or in private rooms. That this is an innocent pastime is questionable, for very little film is sold; the man may bring his own camera or rent one. Since he can pose the model in any position he chooses, one wonders where an amateur would take such film to be developed unless he develops it himself. Be that as it may, Ella talks freely of her activities as a model, a prostitute and a lesbian.

I know it sounds like a sob story, but this is how it started. My mother died when I was 15. My sister was 13, and my older brother was 16 and he left, right after Ma died. My old man was a ass-he always was. From the time I was nine or 10, he was always feeling me up, trying to get me to let him screw me. I know he was doing the same to Julia. When Ma died, I knew damned well what was coming, and he didn't waste any time, either. And before I tell you about that, I might mention that my brother used to make his pitches, too. Always surprising me in the bathroom, feeling my tits and my box, wanting me to suck his cock or let him fuck me. Well, I was screwing, I'll admit, since I was 13, but not my brother or father!

Anyway, Pa took off right from the cemetery on a binge. He never even showed up that first night at all. Imagine, me and Julia, just kids, that first night. Julia cried so hard, I had to let her sleep in my bed with me. My brother wasn't any help-he went out with his gang and I guess he was drinking, too.

Pa came home that second night, and he was mean drunk-not the fall-down kind, like he usually became. Julia was asleep, finally. It was two in the morning, but I was awake. I was scared, I guess. I hadn't heard from my brother all day-we found out later he'd taken off, and I was afraid of what Pa would be like when he did show up.

He came into the bedroom and leaned over my bed. He saw I was awake. He grabbed my arm and dragged me out into the living room. I had on a thin, short nightgown. We are Polish, not that it's got much to do with it, except that my father never would learn to speak English without that heavy accent, even though he was born in this country. When he was drunk, he'd speak half in Polish, half in broken English. I didn't understand a word in Polish, and it used to infuriate him. My mother wasn't Polish, and he must have felt he was an outsider, at times, when nobody understood his language.

"I know you fuck," he started out. "I no dumbbell. I see what go on in car, some nights. Now, Dom need fuck!"

like I said, I knew what would be coming from the old bastard, but still, he shocked me with the .bluntness of it.

"You're a pig," I spat at him. Before the words were out of my mouth, he had backhanded me and it knocked me down, making my nose bleed. He picked me up, like I was a baby, and carried me into the bedroom and tossed me on the bed. He began undressing, all the time mumbling about ". . .you fuck strangers, and you call you old man pig. Well, then a pig should fuck another pig ... and you a pig!"

As I said, I'd been getting mine. Ma had been bedridden the last three years of her life, and I used to run around a lot. I always hated school, and I'd quit when I was 14 and worked as a flunky for a wealthy family across town. And, that would be another whole book for you-what people like that expect for a few lousy bucks a week, from the son to the father and even the chauffeur!

I knew it was useless to fight him. He'd only hit me again. I'd seen him beat my mother senseless, when she crossed him. When he got his tool exposed, it was soft. He look it in his hand, jerking it a little, leaning over the bed. "Dom no got hard on," he leered. "But Ella suck it good, like Dom see her suck boy's cock in car, huh?"

He straddled my chest, trying to shove his prick into my mouth, but I kept my teeth clenched and he got mad. He began to slap me, first one hand then the other, until I grabbed his hands and begged him to stop. I told him I'd do it, and he stopped hitting me.

When I took his fat, dirty prick in my mouth, I wanted to throw up or bite it in two, but I was scared. He got hard pretty soon, but he didn't want to come that way. He pulled it out, leaned over and stuck his tongue deep into my mouth, while he dug his nails into my breasts, working his fingers until I wanted to scream. Then he spread my legs, and put his big, calloused finger inside me. He kept mumbling all the time about, "you big woman, like Mary"-that was my mother-"you got nice cunt, good fuck-Dom know. Dom see fucker in car."

His cock was big and stiff, now, and in spite of how I hated the bastard, I found myself getting worked up and hot. I hadn't wanted it in my mouth, but now I began to wonder if a cock that big would be better than the ones I'd been used to. He didn't give me much chance to enjoy it. He was a big pig. He just rammed it into me, pumped away a few times, and shot his load into me! He was so heavy on me when he let down, I could hardly breathe. I managed to roll him off, but he grabbed me by the hair and one breast. "Now, you suck Dom hard again!" He shoved my head down to his slimy cock, all wet and covered with juices from both of us. He was pinching my breast so hard I wanted to scream, or just pass out, but I was too scared to. So I just took that soft, slimy thing into my mouth and sucked it as hard and as fast as I could. While I was doing it, he moved my body around so that my cunt was on top of his face, and he began sticking his tongue and finger into my box.

I'd been screwed, from front and back-not in the ass-hole-but I'd never had anyone lick my box or stick their tongue into it before. After his big cock, his tongue felt good. It was hard to describe-like it was soothing and different. It made me unconsciously work harder on his cock, and he got all excited when I began to move my hips. He put his hands around my ass, running a finger up my ass-hole, but gentle-and we came almost at the same time.

He was different, all of a sudden. He kissed my cunt gently, then ran his tongue all over my ass-hole. I had swallowed his load, and I wanted more of what he'd just done. So I kept on sucking him, and he went right back to cunt-sucking and licking, and this time, I had a wild, full orgasm. It seemed to please him, and he took his cock out of my mouth, turned around, laid me on my back and sucked me again-and another wild, fast come.

We had an unspoken agreement, after that. Twice a week, we would have a sex orgy. And he was the only man I was having, at that time. But I had a purpose. I was working toward the day I could blow that ugly joint. I knew what kind of loving I wanted, and it wasn't his. Sometimes, I'd con him into just sucking my cunt, which always was good, without me having to fuck him or suck him off. I was saving my money, and stealing from him, to get away. I was 16, almost 17, before the time came. Even then, he forced it.

I had been screwing the man where I worked, and his son, who was in college, for a twenty every once in awhile, and I was stashing it away, ready for my takeoff.

I came home this one Friday night. It was Dom's payday, and I knew he'd cash his check and get loaded. I had worried about Julia a lot, but was sure that I kept Dom satisfied sexually so that he would lay off her. I found out later that he'd been trying his damnedest to get her to fuck and suck, but she hadn't. She was too scared to tell me, even though I was more like a mother to her now, than an older sister. But, when I stepped into the door, all hell had broken loose! Julia had locked herself in the bathroom, and he was trying to break down the door. He was stark naked, and roaring drunk!

I couldn't think straight. Julia, who was then 16, was crying and pleading with him not to hurt her. Dom was so loaded he hadn't even heard me come in. I grabbed a frying pan from the kitchen stove-it was one of the old-fashioned, iron kind-and I hit him! He fell like a rock, blood streaming from his bald head. I made Julia open the door, and quieted her down enough to make some sense. I told her to pack what she could, and I would do the same. I got my money, and took a hundred and forty bucks out of Dom's pocket, and we left. I called the police from a pay phone, told them he had tried to attack my sister, and I'd hit him. Then we got a bus out of town.

I don't know nor care, to this day, what happened to my father. He was a pig. What I did, I did out of fear, even though at times, I did get some sex kicks from him. It was only when he sucked me, gentle and good, that I ever enjoyed it, and I'm not using that as an alibi, either. lived in a steel town in the Midwest, and Julia and I headed for California. We had more than five hundred dollars when we started out, and I knew I could go to work at something, right away, so we got a fairly nice furnished apartment and I went to work as a waitress, the first week. The second week, Julia got a job as a carhop in a drive-in restaurant, so we were all right, money-wise. I didn't realize just how much I had come to hate men, until I threw a cup of hot coffee into the face of a guy who was pinching my ass, and lost my job. As I was on my way out, Georgia, a sexy redhead that worked there, stopped me and gave me her address and phone number. "Don't worry, kid," she said, "I know how it is. Come on over and see me tonight, and we'll work something out." I'd told her a little about us, how me and Julia were hacking it, and all, and it made me feel good to have at least one adult friend I could talk to.

I called her that night, after checking the want ads for waitress jobs. Julia worked nights until midnight, so when she asked me to come over, I did. I'm not trying to kid myself, nor anyone else. I guess, in my heart, I knew Georgia went for women-and that she went for me, especially. But I knew one thing: I didn't want to go out and be pawed or screwed by any of the jerks in the restaurant who made passes all day long. I often tried to remember how I'd felt when my boyfriends were screwing me, but somehow, I couldn't. All I could remember were the times that Dom had sucked my cunt, gentle and good. If Georgia hadn't started it that night, I guess I might have. She was good-looking, but in a hard, mannish way. Customers at the restaurant didn't fool with her much, she was always blunt and fast-talking with the guys. But when I got to her apartment, she was different. She had her hair fluffed up, her makeup soft, and she was wearing the prettiest, frilliest, sheerest negligee I'd ever seen. I couldn't help but stare at her full, uptilted breasts, with the pink nipples showing so saucily through the filmy material. And she had the nicest thighs and ass-all woman, and beautiful. But the big shock was when I looked at her cunt. She had shaved it! All I could think of, at that moment, was how Julia's twat had looked, before she had pubic hair. I'd read or heard that, when a woman has full, protruding lips on her cunt, it means that she has masturbated a lot, or has had a hell of a lot of fucking, and I wondered, then and there, which had made Georgia's cunt lips stick out so much. She just stood there, smiling, watching my eyes take in her entire body. Then she walked over, put her hands on my cheeks and gave me an open-mouthed kiss.

It awakened all the desires in me. I was glad that she was telling me, with her tongue and her lips, that she was a lesbian! Now, I could have that same sexual thrill that Dom had given me, only it would be better-I just knew it would. Georgia didn't say a word, even when I began to rub my body against hers and feel her shaved pussy. She poured two drinks-martinis-and pointed to the bedroom. I took my drink and found she had laid out a beautiful, sexy negligee for me! I put it on and went back into the living room. She had put out the lights, and had lit two candles.

All I remember was that I thought "This is the way lovemaking should be. Not brutal, like Dom, and other men wanted it. Soft lights, quiet atmosphere, and the warm glow that the martini was imparting." She poured a second martini, and we just sat there, as if we'd planned and rehearsed this whole scene a hundred times. It just felt good. I was completely relaxed, yet, I was alive with anticipation. I studied her lips-full, firm, strong-looking, and I fidgeted, wanting to feel them on my body-and on my cunt.

I was the one that made the first move. I reached over and touched her nipple with my fingers, saying what beautiful breasts she had. I let my hand move down to her cunt. I opened her negligee and ran my fingers over the bare lips, then moved one finger inside and massaged her clitoris. It became hard and insistent, and she leaned over and we kissed again. We set the drinks down and just kissed, running our hands over each other's breasts and buttocks, gradually working off the gowns. When we were naked, we lay there, rubbing our cunts together in gentle rhythm, kissing deeply, massaging each other's nipples and the cheeks of the other's ass. When Georgia put her fingers inside me and worked my clitoris, I was ready to come. But she prolonged it, setting every bit of flesh she touched afire. At last, she spread my legs and began tickling the flesh all around my cunt, with her tongue. I couldn't stand it, and I grabbed her hair and forced her mouth down onto the lips of it. She came into me with her tongue like she was starved. She used her tongue and her fingers to bring me to an orgasm within a minute!

It was sheer joy-so much so that I couldn't wait to get my lips over her vagina, stick my own tongue and fingers up into her, beyond those luscious, naked cunt lips! I changed positions with her, and she guided my tongue with her own fingers. I got a special kick out of that, and licked and sucked her fingers too. I was happy that I could bring her the same thrill she had given me, and I didn't want to stop, even though I knew she'd had two orgasms. She made me stop, and we lay there, having more martinis, kissing, talking, telling each other what was coming in our hearts-love. It was a new thing for me, to love someone sexually, and she was as gentle as could be. I loved her. I wanted to give her happiness, every hour. For the first time in my life, I knew what love was-how it felt.

I stayed all night that night. Julia was frantic, but I called her in the morning and explained. Georgia wanted me to move into her place, but I explained about Julia, and we just agreed to be lovers. Besides, I had to get a job.

I began making the rounds that day, and by the end of the week, I was getting more disgusted and frustrated each moment. All any man seemed to want was some easy lay. Oh, there were plenty of jobs, but they all had that one condition-"some fucking on the side, baby." They didn't come out and say it, but they let you know.

I took one job. It lasted just one night. When the cook, who was part owner of the joint, nailed me in the kitchen after closing, I knew I'd had it. He was brutal. He grabbed my cunt and pinched, like I was supposed to enjoy it, while he held my neck with his other hand and tried some slobbery kisses.

"You're nuts, baby," he said as I was walking out. "You could make twenty times a day what those chintzy tips amount to, if you'd get smart." It bugged me, all the way home. After all, I had been screwed enough times to know that it wasn't half-bad, with the right person. True, it didn't do a tenth for me what Georgia's mouth and tongue did, but, I needed to make some money.

I called the cook next day, told him who I was, and asked him what he would pay to sleep with me. He surprised me when he blurted out, "Baby, fifty bucks a crack would be reasonable, with that body." I told him to come over, and bring his money. Inside a half-hour, he was there. But I wanted to find out some other things, so I played it as if we had a date. I maneuvered it so that he was dying to suck my cunt, long before we fucked. And, it was good-not as good as Georgia (any woman is always better, because she knows the spots to work on,) but he was as good as Dom. In fact, he loosened me up so that when he shoved it into me, it wasn't too bad. He wanted me to suck him off, but I wouldn't until he offered me double. I just did what I had to. I closed my eyes and sucked as fast and hard as I could, until he came. I spit it out, and when he wanted to kiss me again on the cunt, I let him.

That was my first commercial sex. I never did look for a job after that. My big problem was telling Georgia, and especially Julia, what I was doing, and what I'd determined I'd keep on doing.

Georgia was furious. I didn't have to tell Julia for a time, but Georgia came on like gangbusters. We had the wildest sex orgy ever, that first night I'd fucked a man for money. She stormed, cried, pleaded with me to abandon this crazy idea, and come and let her take care of me. I assured her that it was just for money, and that my real love was hers, and we finally settled on my going on as a prostitute, or call girl, or whatever you call it, but she would be my lover. She was possessive, from the start, and very jealous. But I didn't realize the lengths she would go to protect her love from me. She got half loaded one night and went down to the drive-in where Julia worked. She spilled the whole story to Julia. When Julia came home that night, she was pale and upset, not knowing how to bring up the subject. I knew something was bothering her, so I asked her point-blank.

"Are you a lesbian-and are you a call girl?" She came out bluntly. I just nodded, but I walked over and put my arms around her, telling her I could explain. She pushed me away.

"I know what you're going to say," she cried. "Tell me all about that pig of a father, and how he made you what you are. Well, I've got news for you! Every rotten thing he did to you, he did to me! The sucking, the screwing, the letting him suck my cunt! And you don't see me out fucking those others pigs for money. I'd rather push cokes and hamburgers till I drop, than let those filthy pigs fuck me!"

I don't know how to tell you what was racing through my mind. She was telling me that she'd been used by my filthy father, just as I had. But there was something else in her eyes, and in her voice. She was telling me, I knew instinctively, that she wanted and needed the same kind of love I had-the kind that Georgia had provided. Maybe she didn't even know it, but Julia also wanted lesbian love. She was crying and I was crying. We almost automatically moved into each other's arms, murmuring and blubbering apologies and endearments. Then, our mouths found each other's, and the moment I felt her tongue come into my mouth, I knew that actually, Julia and I were more than just sisters by blood, we were sisters under the skin-sisters in desire and need! Once our hearts were laid bare, it went as smoothly as it had with me and Georgia. She began to murmur, 'Oh, Ella, I've wanted you to love me for so long, but you never would. I wanted to reach out and just touch you, kiss you, beg you to love me-but I was always afraid. Love me now, Ella, love me all over, every way."

We stayed up all night that night, talking of our father, the pig. She told me that our brother had also fucked her, when she was only 10, and that he had often sucked her cunt, after that, and made her suck his cock. We let out all the stored up anger and need, that night. We kissed and caressed every part of the other's body. Georgia was forgotten, and later, I faced her with the truth-I was in love with Julia. Georgia agreed to take whatever love I could give, when I could give it, but it didn't last long. She hooked up with an older woman, and we eventually lost track of each other.

Julia and I were in seventh heaven. I found it easy to pick up three hundred dollars a week, and, over my arguments, Julia eventually became a prostitute also. Things were going fine for us, for over a year. We paid bellboys, taxi drivers, anyone-to steer suckers to us. We played it safe, though-only a phone number, until we made sure the guy was all right. Then, this guy suggested the modeling bit. It's as safe a way to contact customers as can be, and it's all legal.

I was flabbergasted and forlorn, when Julia took off. She just left a note. She had fallen in love with another prostitute we both knew, and went to New York City. I was at loose ends for a long time, so long that I got desperate enough to start hanging around The-, a lesbian bar in Hollywood. But they were too commercial, too blunt and brassy for me.

I'm still loose and still looking. When I find someone like Julia, I'll settle down again for some real loving. Meantime, I know a few good one-night-stands-a couple of the other girls who work at the same studio go the route, but there's nothing permanent. Meantime, I guess I'm lucky. I can always get a John to go down on my cunt. When I do, I just close my eyes and pretend it's a woman-maybe Julia."

That the brutal Dom, the father, was responsible for this, is unquestionably true, but he is not entirely to blame. Recall, if you will that Ella (and later Julia) was able to endure sex with a male, even though she did insist that the men perform cunnilingus on her as a prelude to regular male-female intercourse. This indicates strongly that, given the right circumstances, the right approach from the right man, both of these women could conceivably enjoy a good sex life-perhaps even a marriage. If the husband of either were understanding, and willing to perform cunnilingus to orgasm, a sound basis could emerge for a solid relationship.

But the basic hate that both feel for men, and the fact that they consider prostitution an "easy" living, precludes any such happening in each case. Again, each girl is fooling herself that she can attain full sexual satisfaction only from a woman. That either would seek professional help is improbable. They have deliberately slanted their lives toward lesbianism, and a great amount of self-pity is involved in this case. Neither woman has ever honestly given heterosexual love a chance. They base their opinion of heterosexual love on the irrational, brutal and unfeeling attitudes of a father who was at best, little more than a beast.

It is only conjecture, of course, on the part of those who know of these women, and their background, but most agree that "if'-and it is only that-either or both of them should ever discard the hard veneer of hate they wear, and look at an attractive, honest and understanding male, they might yet assume a normal man-woman relationship and abandon their lives of prostitution and lesbianism. The chances, however, are very slim.

Briefly, the story of Betty, whose aunt led her into lesbianism. When she was 16, Betty's parents died. She went to live with an aunt, whom we'll call Helen. Betty was an introvert, extremely religious and shy, and she was unhappy with her aunt, who was a widow, and a swinger.

After three months, Betty stated that she wanted to enter a convent and become a nun. Since the aunt was protestant (actually, she was much more an atheist) this horrified her. She would have no part of it. Instead, she insisted that her niece join her in "Living it up," as she put it.

Betty lackadaisically went along with the idea, but she did insist that she attend an all-girl Catholic school. Betty quickly made friends at the school, especially two close ones, with whom she often spent evenings, and whom she invited to stay at her house. Unfortunately, both these girls were lesbians, and in a way, were the leaders of campus rebellions at school, advocating sexual freedom, the abolishment of "stuffy, outdated uniforms" and freedom of speech and action, to the ultimate degree of license.

Aunt Helen welcomed these girls with glee. They seemed to want all the things that she desired and, surprisingly enough, for Catholic girls, they seemed very modern and progressive. In fact, they were so much so, that Aunt Helen invited the girls to make her home their headquarters, any time they chose.

Betty became uncomfortable in the presence of all three. She felt, as she puts it, "Like a complete square-a fuddy-duddy." But that was soon to change.

Although they were minors, and she was responsible, Helen often served cocktails to the girls. One weekend, when they were all out by the pool, both Celia and Corinne, the two friends of Betty, drank too many cocktails. Helen wasn't far behind, and, in the spirit of fun, one of the girls suggested that they go swimming in the nude. Helen, Corinne, and Celia promptly proceeded to strip and cavort in the water, but Betty, who had had a lesser amount of alcohol, retained her bathing suit.

As the alcohol flowed and the day wore on, Betty was stripped of her suit, and joined in the merrymaking. Toward sundown, all four females ended up in the bedrooms, sprawled out naked, sleeping off the effects of too much liquor. Betty was out like a light, because she had consumed far more than was normal for her to handle gracefully. In her own words:

I awoke to a pleasant sensation. I couldn't identify it, at first. I was a virgin, and although I had masturbated a little, I don't think I knew what an orgasm really felt like. I lay there, slowly realizing that someone was playing with my private parts. I was enjoying it, and I realized gradually that someone had their tongue inside me, and was grasping my fanny cheeks. I was astonished, then afraid to look to see which of the three it was. Finally, I started to buck and pitch, as whoever it was hit the right spot inside my vagina. I looked down and just as I exploded in my first real orgasm, I saw the smiling eyes of my aunt staring at me, her mouth working busily on my vagina. We had two double beds in my room, and I looked over and saw Corinne and Celia, upside down, so they could lick and suck the other's vagina.

I'm not a dummy. I quickly decided that I liked what was happening. I'd seen both the girls naked before, but never had seen Aunt Helen completely nude. I guess I was more surprised at her than at the others. Before I had time to really think, Aunt Helen had crawled around, and was straddling my face. I remember how I began to get all eager and hot, when I looked up and saw that large, wet vagina so near to my mouth. I also could see her ass-hole, and, oddly enough, it excited me, in a strange way. In fact, I propped myself up and began licking her ass-hole first, gradually working my way down to the wide-spread lips of her cunt. She was licking and sucking, and running a finger up inside my anus, or ass-hole, if that's clearer-and I wanted to get my mouth on the lips of her cunt. I wanted to get my tongue darting inside. She let herself settle slowly and gently on my face, and I went to work. She knew how to control her own cunt, while she brought me to orgasm, and we came together, writhing and wiggling in delight so that we actually rolled off the bed! We sat there, laughing, watching the other two come to a mutual orgasm. I guess I had a little hangover, (I've learned since that I'm exceptionally hot when I have a hangover) because, suddenly, I wanted to do it again-but with either Celia or Corinne.

I was astounded that night at the many ways a woman can satisfy another woman. I also learned that my aunt had been a lesbian since before my uncle died. She had dildos (imitation penises which can be strapped to the hips of a female and serve as a penetrating device), and she showed us how to masturbate using many common things, like candles, wieners, a banana, and Helen even used a cucumber!

We had a lot of lesbian orgies after that, but I began to wonder why all the gimmicks, when there were so many men around who were panting to get their dick into a woman. When I asked Aunt Helen, she laughed and said, "Go ahead, sweetie, try them."

It wasn't hard to take her up on it. The family that lived next door had two boys, both in their early 20's, who had been asking me for dates for months. I accepted one with the youngest, Ron, a blonde, good-looking animal. I'd seen him in swim trunks, and I knew that his tool would be big and hard-better than any of the devices Aunt Helen preferred.

My first screw was in his car. He began to fool around right off the bat, and by the time we pulled into his garage, I was as hot as I've ever been, from his fingers inside me and his kisses and fondling of my nipples. I don't know if I was trying to prove something or not, but when he took my panties off in the back seat, and I spread my legs wide, I know I wanted him-his cock, not his kissing of my cunt. He didn't disappoint me. He was gentle, as he slid the tip of it into my wet, eager box, but once he was certain it was going to be all right, he rammed that thing home so that every thrust made me almost come. When he finally made me come, at the same time he did, I knew that, good as lesbianism was, I still liked a man screwing me.

I've never changed my mind. I have a good job with a firm of lawyers, and I enjoy my sex where I find it. If you'd ask me to honestly tell you which I enjoy most, the loving of a woman or a man, I'd have to say: both equally. I will say this: without using any gimmicks like dildos, a man is able to give a woman many more times what a woman can-ifhe cares enough to take it easy, and not be just a ramrod. I mean, a man doing cunnilingus on a woman can be as satisfying and thrilling as a woman, under the right conditions. But, and this is straight-a dildo, cucumber, candle-none of them can compare to a good stiff prick, when it comes to the fucking part.

So, call me a bi-sexual. That's what I am. Once I kicked that religion bit, and started to enjoy life, the way we are made to, I began to live.

Aunt Helen? She died and left me quite a bit of money, and the house I was telling you about. Help? Who needs help? I don't owe the world a thing, and they don't owe me. I don't hurt anybody-maybe I don't give a hell of a lot, but I don't take, either. I'm happy as I am. What more can anyone ask? I have men-I like to have women, too. And I'll tell you this: There are a hell of a lot more people around like me-men and women-than you squares care to admit to!