Case History:
Teena
Teena! Her name is certainly apropos, since she is a teenager, and she is tiny. Her sylphish body and pixie-like face, coupled with a strange, feminine seductiveness that seems to permeate the room she is in, caused many a male's juices to start flowing. She was keenly aware of her potent power over the male of the species and used it with the personality of a Lorelei.
She was sixteen years old when I was first introduced to her. She had darkish blonde hair, was about five feet tall, and weighed a mere eighty-five pounds. Her facial features were small, with the exception of her large, bright eyes. Her upper teeth protruded slightly, giving her a cute, impish look.
Her breasts, being covered by nothing more than a tight-fitting jersey slipover, were quite easy to perceive. They were a symmetrically perfect cone shape, terminated with small pea-size nipples. Their solidness was just soft enough to allow them to bounce invitingly when she walked.
Her exceptionally well-formed legs were small but proportionate to her body, and she was not hesitant to exhibit as much of them as possible from under her microskirt.
I became acquainted with Teena through my son, Mark, who was sixteen years old at the time. He had met Teena at an ice-skating rink, and they hit it off so well together that they spent the day together, skating and eating hot dogs. Mark walked her home that afternoon, and they more or less went steady after that day.
One day Mark wanted me to take him over to her house, and since he wanted me to meet her, I drove him there.
Teena was playing ball in the street with her two sisters, one twelve and the other eleven, and a boy fourteen years old, when we drove up to her house. Mark got out of the car and when she saw him she ran over to the car, threw her arms around him, and kissed him. After releasing him she pulled herself up onto the hood of the car and sat there talking to Mark.
Her two little sisters, totally devoid of any shyness whatever, ran over to our car and started talking to me. The youngest was wearing only shorts and was unconcerned that her little developing breasts were completely exposed. In fact, several times, when reaching for a pen in my shirt pocket or in some other playful action, her little breasts rubbed against my bare arm. I actually began to suspect that she was doing it on purpose, since she would always look down and giggle each time.
The twelve-year-old, at least, was wearing a small, loose halter. She was on the right side of the car and was also trying to reach me, playfully. Quite often she would stand with her hands on top of the car, leaning in the window. When she did that, the inadequate halter would lift off of her plum-shaped, tiny-nippled breasts. I know full well that she was aware of what was happening.
Suddenly I realized I was actually seeing exhibitionism in its early, developmental stages! These girls were purposely putting on a show for my benefit, each trying to outdo the other! If her two little sisters are as precocious as this, what must fourteen-year-old Teena be like? I wondered!
Mark finally brought Teena over to me and introduced her. Before she slid off the hood of the car she reached down and nonchalantly printed something in the dust on the hood, with her finger.
After talking a short while, long enough for me to become more interested in Teena, we left. As I waved at the girls I noticed the young one was waving with one hand and rubbing her breasts with the other!
During the drive home I interrogated Mark about Teena. He had little information to offer, since he hadn't known her very long. He did tell me that her father was a construction worker and drank a lot and that her mother also worked. She baby-sat with her sisters until her parents came home. He also told me that she acted like she would be "easy to make."
On our arrival home I remembered the writing on the hood. Glancing down I saw, in large printed letters, the words, Fuck is fun.
I thought little more about the incident, until she called asking for Mark. He wasn't home, so she started talking with me.
She told me they didn't have a phone at home and that she was calling from a friend's house. I assumed it was a girl-friend, but she told me it was a man whom she does work for. I was curious, at this point, and asked her what sort of work she did for him. She was very hesitant to tell me, but I finally got the story from her-in very few words, I might add. "If you promise not to tell Mark, I'll tell you." I promised and then she said bluntly, "I give this guy blow jobs." The remainder of her conversation consisted of the men she "blew," and the boys she "fucked," continually making me promise I wouldn't tell Mark.
She called several time after that, telling me all the latest conquests she had made and some that she would like to make. She also stated that she enjoyed giving a "blow job" to men nineteen and older. During each call she would proposition me several times, either by implication or directly.
I was completely overwhelmed and fascinated by this young lady. Finally, during one of her calls I explained the type of work that I do and I asked her if she would mind if I interviewed her, for my research. She eagerly said yes, and then added, "I bet I know the real reason you want me to come see you." I just shook my head in amazement, as I hung up the phone. This could be a most interesting case, indeed.
Teena hit my office like the sun rising over a mountain. The whole room became bright and alive when she entered. I could sense her presence before I looked up from my work.
She sat down in the chair next to my desk, allowing her microskirt to remove itself from her legs. I am an experienced interviewer and have interviewed every type of personality; as a result I am accustomed to most of their overt actions. I am also human, and when an experienced seductress sits in a chair the way Teena did, I am forced to look down and enjoy the view. And what a view, her legs were exposed up to her crotch!
I am not ashamed to admit that I had to force myself to return to the business at hand. I pulled my eyes away from her limbs and said, "Teena, I want you to pull your dress down, as far as that little strip of cloth will go, and we will begin the interview."
"What's the matter, Julie, don't you like girls' legs, or don't you like girls?" she asked, as she tugged at her skirt.
"That's not the point, Teena. Showing me your endowments is not part of this research." I said it seriously and, I hoped, convincingly.
I guess, because of the leg show, I hadn't noticed the blouse she was wearing. Looking at her now I was a bit shocked. It was one of those sheer, tight-fitting affairs, and what you couldn't see visibly was presented in outline.
I cleared my throat and asked, "Why do you think you go with so many different males, Teena? Do you have any idea?"
"I don't know, Julie, I never thought about it. I just dig guys, I guess. I love to be with a man!"
"How long have you been aware of the sex differences between a male and female?" I asked.
"Hell, I don't know, ever since I can remember, I suppose."
"Well, tell me, do you remember your first sex experience?"
"Oh, I probably could if I thought about it. Why do we have to talk about things like that?" she asked, seeming to be a little bored.
"All right, what would you like to talk about?"
"You, Julie. How old are you?
"I'm thirty-six," I answered quickly.
"How tall are you?" she fired back.
"Six feet."
"Do you like sex?"
"Just a minute, Teena, let's stop this right now. I'm seriously trying to get answers to certain questions, information that will enable me to analyze the various sexual habits of females. You're not helping one bit, pulling a stunt like that."
"Crap," she said. She asked me the way to the ladies' room. I told her, and while she was gone I tried to figure out tactics that would enable me to get the information I wanted. I could see how futile it was to try to find out about her early experiences, at least during this session. I decided that I would just let her discuss any part of her life she felt like discussing, and let it go at that.
On her return, she very demurely sat down in the chair, her skirt halfway to her knees and her hands in her lap.
"I promise I'll be good now, Mr. De Armond," she said, looking up at me with those big round eyes.
"Well, Teena, I've decided to allow you to discuss anything in your life that you care to. At least I'll get some knowledge of you as a person," I told her in a fatherly voice.
"I'll tell you this much about me," she said seriously. "I like, and prefer, older men. The young guys are sometimes a lot of fun to be with, but when it gets right down to it they are too inexperienced. They don't know how to treat a girl."
While she was talking, she got up, came over to me, and sat in my lap!
"A girl-likes to be fondled and petted. A young guy is too crude, he just wants to get down to business. An older guy uses his hands so wonderfully, and the way he talks while he is caressing the girl is wild."
Suddenly she grabbed my hand and jammed it between her legs! I was totally hypnotized by her talk and this action took me by complete surprise.
I jumped up immediately. She just stood there, giggling, and looking at me.
I told her that I thought we had better consider the interview at an end.
"In that case..." she said, with a strange look in her eye.
Teena left shortly, and I wondered if I should continue my study of her. I decided that I would, and at some later date, I will.
Teena, an unusual case, indeed!