by Ward Fulton
"Phil humped, pushing his head right into my slit, so I could feel the lips spread and feel the hot-ness of his prick against the hotness of my cunt. He wasn't really in-just pushing my lips aside to get in. He reached one finger down and started playing with my slit, teasing that little knob, my clitoris, until I could see sparks behind my eyes. His other hand was playing with one teat, and his mouth was working on the other-and we were both moaning. I know I had my head thrown back as if I were baying at the moon. Phil slid his mouth off my teat and started kissing my throat-while both his hands went around me, sliding down my back until he had them on the cheeks of my behind.
"He started easing me toward him, hunching a little, driving a little, with his head pushing my cunt wider and wider. And I hunched back, scared and hurting some, but more excited than anything. I felt my cunt stretch and stretch and then seemingly snap back a little, closing on his prick itself, his shaft. And that's when the jukebox blew a fuse! Neon lights exploded inside me and the craziest music, like dozens of records at once, went rollicking through my stomach and chest.
"I reached both arms around his neck and pulled my teats tight against his chest, moving just a little to that crazy music to tease my nipples and squash my breasts against him, hunching up with my pelvis on to his shaft, feeling it go in, tiny bit by tiny bit. Sort of tentatively, as if he might yank it out at any time, which by now I didn't want. I wanted it all the way up, as far as it would go, even if it knocked the fillings out of my teeth and loosened my braces.
"I really humped at him, using his hands on my ass for leverage,-and felt him go in. I wiggled, almost climbing on him. I wrapped both legs around him and squeezed, driving his shaft in until his blondish pubic hair was touching my slit, and I knew he couldn't go any farther. Yet I kept trying.
"We did a sort of rock-'n'-roll sitting down, with some twitchings rock-'n'-roll addicts never thought of. My teats were smashed tight against his chest, I could feel his stomach heaving against mine, and his head way up in me, moving-not much, but, oh, so excitingly! And I'd wet my cunt with my own cream until his shaft was moving easy, but his head still felt tight, almost as if it had blown up a little.
"Phil was murmuring my name, over and over and tonguing my neck and clawing at my behind and pumping! I leaned back against his hands and let him bend down to kiss my teats. He could just reach their tops but his tongue could slurp down and tease a nipple. And it was like cherry bombs going off inside.
"By then I was wound up so tight I seemed to feel every rib pressing in on my lungs-which were hot. My stomach was hot and my cunt, all the way up, was bathed in liquid fire. My little snatch itself was working, I could feel it-like gnawing at his; shaft. And something had to give or I'd have blown all my gaskets, maybe just come apart at the seams.
"Something did. Phil pulled back, just a hair-and drove so hard against me I nearly slid off the bench. If my legs hadn't been wrapped around him, I probably would have. And I felt, in the further stretch of my cunt, the pulse of something shooting down his shaft, up into me, and exploding out of his head. Hot! Oh, God, my stomach seemed to find a new thermometer to measure the heat-and it melted everything inside me, in one big gush!
"I almost climbed right through Phil, trying to get closer, get more of whatever was happening. And feeling those pulses and explosions in me. I looked down my front, half-expecting to see it red from the heat inside.
"And it was all over. But how glorious! How wonderful! I can understand why Marie Antoinette is supposed to have said, on her wedding night, 'Do the common people-do this? It's much too good for the common people!'
"It's just much too good!
"I shivered and shook from the explosions that had happened inside me, suddenly exhausted. More than if I'd been fencing, or having a judo workout. Just depleted. Depleted, but happy. And still having minor thrills as Phil started pulling his pecker out of me. I would have hung on to it, but I was so exhausted my legs just fell away and I leaned against Phi, happy to be able to breathe again, and smelling the sharp, exciting smell of sex. Sex and sweat, intermingled.
"Phil's dong slid out, and between us we wet the bench and our bottoms, but who cared! Phil's pecker still shook and quivered a little, but it was much too limp and small to do anything but start up new shivers in me.
"Phil was shuddering and heaving, but he picked me up and carried me over to the big couch and laid down beside me, soothing me with words-I didn't really hear them-and the soft running of his hands over my body. And I clung to him. I'd never had anybody I' could really cling to for comfort. Mother was always too afraid I'd muss her hairdo or smear her makeup-and governesses?-well, they're not much to cling to.
"Phil was sweet to me, kissing me softly under the ear and running his hands gently all over me, stilling some of the shivers and stopping me from crying-I hadn't even known I was crying. 'You're a wonderful little girl, Fay. Wonderful. I never dreamed… I can't understand yet what happened… or how it happened. Darling, I certainly never meant to,… My God! My own kid sister. And only twelve! What a heel… '
"I was indignant. 'I'm thirteen. Or almost' And then giggled, burying my head against his shoulder. 'You didn't have anything to do with it? Who got the chiffon scarves? Who put on the Scheherazade suite? Who danced…?'
"Phil drew back and looked at me, puzzled. 'You mean-you planned to-to get-screwed?'
"I shook my head, my answer muffled against him, 'Not really-planned. Because I wasn't quite sure what could happen. I just wanted to start something-and see.'
"Phil drew a shuddering breath and then brought up what was almost a chuckle. 'Now that you know -would you do it again?'
"I looked up at him. 'You mean, put the scarves on and start at! over? Couldn't we just… I mean, here we are on a nice couch. And we're already naked… '
"Phil grinned at me, a little lopsided-he's rather cute when he does that. 'Wasn't exactly what I meant-but-' He reached down and pulled my rump up close, so my little cunt, which was still twitchy and sort of eager, was up against his leg. 'Boys aren't built like girls… as you seem to have noticed. And they don't function well in rapid succession. However… '
"I could see his dong was already beginning to swell a little. 'I don't mind waiting… ' And I didn't. I was still almost giddy from the first fuck, and my cunt ached some. It didn't hurt. Not to call it hurting, as I had heard the first time would. You get such mixed-up stories from the girls at school. Of course, I went to a very 'fashionable' school, where girls were from the 'best' families and weren't supposed to know about sex. Maybe they didn't know much, but they sure talked about it. I could have written a book of instructions on it, just from what I heard-most of it wrong. Or, anyhow, wrong, in my case. Maybe it works different for different girls. I never really bothered to check back.
"Phil just held me, sort of loose but close, and talked in my ear, those sweet and rather silly things people say after a good lay. And it was good. I guess I'd been hungry for someone to hold me and fondle me. I'd never had any of that sort of treatment. Mother and Father were both too busy and-well, governesses don't seem to run to cuddling. Just to being snippy. Father paid the bills, and they knew I never could get near enough to Father-or Mother-to complain. Anyway, for all I knew, that was the way governesses were supposed to act. So what was there to complain about? Just that I needed a little affection.
"Phil gave it to me. He petted me and caressed me, with, of course, ulterior motives. I know that. He wanted another good screw. But some of it was real. It was too tender to be anything but real. Gentle. He stroked my hair and along my cheek and down my back, not even really trying to get me excited. But, of course, it happened. Lying there beside him, both of us naked, it was bound to happen. But I wasn't making it happen this time. I mean, I wasn't working at it, as I had the first time, with the 'Dance of the Seven Veils.' So I could just relax and enjoy it. Every bit of it. The Chinese say that's the best way-relax and enjoy it.
"I could just lie
there and let his hands roam over me, and feel the warmth of his flesh against mine, enjoying each new tension as something tightened in me, almost as if I could catalog them, my breast seeming to get fuller and my nipples standing up, and the tightening of things down at my cunt. That was odd, really. Inside, I got tight, but outside, my cunt was opening, getting slack and moist.
"I could see Phil's pecker getting stiffer in little jerks and quivers, and growing, until I was amazed that it could ever have fitted into me. But I knew it had. And made wonderful sensations. Looking at his pecker now, so big and long, I knew I'd never have even let him throw it into me, if I hadn't been so excited, so built up for it.
"And I was getting built up again. But it was lots gentler, this time. The first was-well, just animal. I'd been a bitch in heat and he was a convenient prick. Now it was more thorough. Slower, in tempo. So slow, really I began to get impatient. And yet I was enjoying all the preliminaries, too.
"I liked the slow way Phil fondled and fingered my teats and slid on down to tease my belly button. His other hand was on my behind, moving, sort of rotary and going closer and closer to the back end of my cunt. He'd kiss one teat and fondle the other, or nuzzle my neck and just let his dick slide over my leg. Not pushing anything, just taking it easy.
"All the time I could see his prick, twitching and swelling, and feel the heat of it against my leg, just stroking the inner side of my thigh. Close to my cunt, but not touching. Yet maybe all the more exciting. I know my legs got weak and fell open. Not much, because I was partly on my side. But it wouldn't have taken much of a push to open me wide. My cunt was so wet I could feel the sides slither a little as my legs dropped open.
"Phil eased his hand from behind me and turned me gently, on to my back. I just flopped there, everything open. Ready. Waiting. And excited. Phil ran his tongue over one nipple, nibbled at it, very lightly, and then on the other, and then ran his tongue down my belly. I have a very nice, flat little tummy. From all the exercise-fencing, judo, dancing. On to my belly button-that really started things churning. And then down on my cunt, tonguing my little clitoris so that I was moaning and pushing up my pelvis to get his tongue in deeper.
"It slid in, so I could feel the wet roughness of it on my flesh-not as rough as a cat's tongue, but it did tease and set things on fire. I almost expected steam to rise from down there, I was so hot.
"This time I could see, sort of looking down my nose and peering between my breasts. That made things even better. Seeing Phil pressing his face into my cunt. None of the girls had ever mentioned that, Just the sheer intimacy of it was wonderful, a kiss on my cunt! Plus it was thrilling in itself.
"Phil straightened up and lay beside me, rolling again so his prick actually touched my cunt. And the neon went on again, sparking and colorful behind my eyes, even though they were open to watch. This time I meant to see everything.
"I did. I watched Phil get up on his knees and straddle my legs, first, pulling them together and letting his dong get caught in that soft vise. He held himself off me, on his elbows, and his hands played with my teats and nipples while his pecker rode up and down between my legs, teasing the hot, wet lips of my cunt, until I was ready to scream, even trying to open my legs so he'd stick that shaft and head into me.
"I humped to match his plunges, so I got more action of his prick against my cunt, even feeling it hit and tease my clitoris from time to time. I reached down and clawed at his rump, trying to pull him into me. Suddenly he released my legs and they fell open-wide-and he knelt between 'em, his pecker head drumming at my cunt.
"I humped just as he plunged, and his head and shaft shot up in me, almost searing me, it made things so hot. And so good! I squealed and clawed harder at his rump, pulling him up, so as not to miss the least bit of that shaft and head. Of course, he could have pulled away, I guess. I've got nice muscles, but I don't think I could have held him if he didn't want me to. Oh, he wanted me to hold him, all right-and he wanted that head flung as far up me as possible. And it went, driving up and up and up.
"I could feel every slightest move of it-each new movement stirring more excitement, more fire. Until his curly pubic hair-he didn't have much, but some-was right up against my bare little mound. And we were humping at each other. I must have sounded like a little animal, grunting and squealing. And Phil was cursing-soft but sort of continuous, as if he was talking to something inside him, trying to make it work harder-and better.
"Then he gave a sort of triumphant grunt and pulled back, hard against my hands, until his prick was nearly out of my cunt. He did something rotary with his rump and dropped back on me, ramming his dong way back up, and pressed against me, shuddering and shaking and saying, 'Oh, my God, oh my God!' but he wasn't praying.
"I felt the jolt of his shaft as it swelled in my cunt, felt the pound of it going up inside me, and the exquisite pleasure of it bursting way up me. And I burst, too. Into a million pieces, it seemed. But only inside. Everything just let go. In the most wonderful way possible. I heard booming music and saw wild, colorful lights and felt my body get so light I thought it would float, except for Phil's weight on me.
"I clung to him, crying now but not really crying, just a sort of whimper because it all felt so good.
"Phil started to deflate, all of him. His arms sort of caved in and he pressed down on me, his head beside mine, buried in the couch, still saying, 'Oh, my God! Oh, my God!' His dick trembled and began to go down, sliding out, in spite of all my little cunt could do to hold it a moment longer, for more of that wonderful explosion. Finally, as it popped out, Phil rolled off me and dropped down beside me, staring at nothing, still saying, 'Oh, my God!' but dwindling until it was just a murmur in his throat.
"My whimpers died down, until we just lay there, warm bodies touching, spent, exhausted. Happy just to breathe, it seemed. Finally Phil rolled over and slid an arm under me and we just cuddled, content. At least, I was content. Content? I was supremely happy. I had someone to love me, and demonstrate that love in the closest, sweetest way possible. And physically and emotionally, I was satisfied.
"We did it after that nearly every night, after my governess had 'properly' supervised my going to bed-seeing that I bathed and brushed my teeth and checked my braces. As if I were still a child. I wanted to shout at her, 'I'm a woman! I've been fucked!' but I never did, of course. Though maybe she knew-or guessed. Another woman can often tell.
"Later, after I'd learned more, I branched out Phil was nice, but he really wasn't a full-grown man. So I tried a couple of the chauffeurs, the cute ones, and the riding master, who tried to look European and came from Brooklyn. Later still, of course, I went into the business."
Fay Y- (or "Mavris") would seem to be the obverse of the Electra complex, the Electra story being that Electra was incestuously in love with her father and suffered incredibly because of it. Fay was certainly not, and apparently never had been, in the least enamored of her father. Quite the reverse. There is little to indicate that there was any "father image" involved in her incestuous relations with her brother.
Certainly, from early childhood she despised her father and his pretentious television show. She also despised her mother, for her completely artificial attitudes about her children.
It was rejection from which Fay suffered most. Surrounded by luxury, she was, nevertheless, a poverty-ridden child-the poverty being lack of love. Her delinquency was born of this simple, basic need of all children. There is no need to search in the dark corners of the mind for an Electra complex and its inversion, though many psychiatric workers would be happy to do so, at exorbitant fees, as Fay mentioned.
Fay had seen, from behind the scenes, the perversions of all that childhood held dear. She knew her father's show was a mockery, a deliberate piece of tomfoolery for the purpose of making lots of money. She saw the sleaziness of the structure he had built, using the best of childhood callously for financial gain. And not even honestly. At least in her opinion, and she was certainly clo
se enough to it to judge.
She would probably not have had such violent reactions if her father had turned on some of that charm at home, if he had been, as he portrayed, the big, warm-hearted "daddy," Many children are deprived of a father's physical presence by the father's job or profession, but still retain a warm affection for him, often engendered and encouraged by the mother.
With Fay, she had lost both parents, all because of what she felt was a completely false situation. Her mother, in her eyes, was a silly, affected pretender, with less excuse than her father, riding, in feet, on the coattails of his success as "jolly big daddy."
She certainly did not lack any physical needs. These were amply taken care of by a succession of hirelings. But they did not add up to the one thing she needed; parental affection. In that department, Fay said privately, she "got the big brush-off." As she says of her sister, Alex, who went into social work among the blind, "It seemed kind of fitting- her own mother and father never could see her. Or didn't bother to." This may or may not have been Alex's motivation, but it seemed so to the child Fay, since she also suffered from this form of parental blindness.
She also suffered from another facet of parental neglect. She had no one to inculcate into her what Miss Helen Coad of the California Youth Authority calls "the middle-class mores." Maxwell Douglas, in his work The Documented Story of Sub-Teen Sex quotes Miss Coad as saying: "In many, many cases we are not dealing with, youngsters who have been raised by the middle-class mores by which most of us live. Theirs is too often a completely different set of values in which honesty and integrity and even sex do not have the same value as ours."
Douglas further identifies these "middle-class mores" as "the finest values by which we live-honesty, personal integrity, virtue, courtesy, kindness -all the basic plus values of life in America."
The child certainly received no training in these "middle-class mores" from her parents, since she rarely saw them. She probably had perfectly adequate "training" in them from expert hired help-the various governesses and nurses. However, to offset whatever effectiveness such paid instruction may have given the child, the little girl herself saw her parents as not living by any of these "rules." She seems to have felt, with tremendous intensity, what she regarded as the falsity of their lives, in every respect except sex, of which the child up to the point of the seduction of Phil, was only faintly aware. So, it is likely, she would consider them false in their sex relations (if she thought about it).