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She tells me she’s heard something terrible about me – something I did with Buzz Jones in back of Dodge’s barn yesterday afternoon.

.

“Now, Vern,” she says, “I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget. I want you to show me exactly what you did yesterday behind that barn.”

I protest, but she threatens to tell the principal. It’s too embarrassing, I plead. She answers that it will be harder for her than for me; I might find it embarrassing, but she’ll find it utterly revolting. So, red as a beet, I reluctantly take out my prick. It’s limp.

“That isn’t all you did,” Penny says. “Continue, please.” I drop my pants and shorts. “Go on,” she says. “Do exactly what you did yesterday.”

I implore, but she’s adamant, so I start pulling my cock.

Pretty soon I get real hot and I’m enjoying it – the more so now because Penny is watching. She stares at my rod. It’s hard as iron. The veins are standing out. The head is purple and swollen so it looks like its gonna burst.

“Imagine! Thirteen years old!” Penny murmurs.

I’m getting hotter by the minute. I can feel the flush in my face. I start to breathe hard. I can feel the pulsing and throbbing in my stiff cock and suddenly the thick white juice spurts out – shooting in an arc toward Penny. One gob lands right on her dainty shoe.

“Oh!” she cries, startled. “Very well, you may go now –

dirty little masturbator!” Penny says sternly.

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So I scram as fast as I can – but when I get a little way, I remember I left my cap and books. I hang around a while to give Penny time to leave, then I go back. She’s not in the classroom, and the door of the anteroom is ajar, so I slip quietly in.

Penny’s lying on the bed. Her eyes are closed. Her shoes are off. Her gorgeous satiny white legs are spread wide, wide apart and, the knees are drawn up. For the first time in my life I see that most wonderful of sights – that feminine flower nestled in her crotch, the moist, soft, pink lips of it, framed in fragile curly hair, and the dark red of its depths. It’s Penny’s lovely cunt and she’s masturbating it with her long, slender fingers for all she’s worth. I watch fascinated. Suddenly she opens her eyes. “Oh!” She’s startled, but her fingers linger on her cunt. “Lock that door and come here,” she says. I lock the door and approach her. “This is what you and all the boys want to see, isn’t it?” she asks. I nod. “Then take a good look at it.

She spreads her legs more. I devour her cunt. with famished eyes. I could look at it forever. It draws me as though it were the center of my being. She plays with it a little to show me the inner and the outer lips and the way they open up, and the clit and the little pee hole.

“It’s just – beautiful, Miss Pennwell,” I say. “I – I’d like to

– can I kiss it?”

She whispers yes. I kneel on the bed and put my mouth right between her legs, right on that lovely pink twat that’s the center of her femininity. It’s soft, yielding, wet, and it has a musky odor. I press my mouth in gently. I hear something between a sigh and a moan. I take my mouth away.

“O, don’t stop, don’t stop!” she begs.

So I put my mouth back. Then she starts telling me how to eat her – how to flick my tongue gently around the lips and the clit, now slowly, now quickly; how to move it slowly from the bottom to the top. As I do it she makes sweet little excited sounds; she starts pumping up and down, fucking my mouth; my face is wet with her cunt juice.

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“Can you fuck me? Can you get your prick up again?” she asks breathlessly. I tell her it’s up already. “Wonderful thirteen! Perpetual hard-on!” she says. “Shove it in, then! Oh, God, fill me up with that male meat!” I slip off my pants and shorts.

She guides it in. I feel my rigid cock slide slowly right up to the hilt in the soft, warm, wet depths of her.

“Oh, jeez. It’s heaven! It’s paradise!” she whispers. “I can’t wait – I’m coming – “

She’s moving her hips in a circular motion, breathing hard.

Her eyes get glassy. She shakes convulsively, uncontrollably, making little cries. I keep on pushing my prick in and out with long strokes and she keeps coming and coming. I speed up a little; I’m near the top. She’s crying, tearing at me, dig-ging her fingers into my back, biting me. She’s shaking from head to foot. I feel the deep surge in ms prick and with a long, pulsing discharge I flood the soft, wet, dripping honey mouth of my teacher’s cunt.

That was a lesson I’ll never forget.

BEN

I am at an elegant, formal dinner party in a large expensive home. It is outside the city and has gardens, a swimming pool in the back and a large curved drive leading up to the mansion. It is summer, and early evening as several guests begin to arrive in big cars. The men are all dressed in white dinner jackets with dark blue or black pants, and the women are wearing cocktail dresses. There are many beautiful young women there with low-cut, plunging necklines. There is all kinds of food and drinks and the people are just walking around in groups, sampling the food and talking to each other. I have found me a luscious companion and she is enjoying a drink and my conversation near the pool. She is wearing a high-necked dress, but the cloth is cut in front so that her bosom is almost totally exposed. The firm high Men In Love

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mounds of her breasts are pushed up by her bra and I can almost see the beginnings of her pink nipples peeking out.

She is close to me, talking low and stroking my chest and trying to press her body against mine. My heart is pounding, as she suddenly reaches down and finds the zipper on my pants and starts to unzip my fly. I have a partial erection, and I can feel it grow as her cool fingertips push aside my shorts and close on my swelling cock.

She smiles at me and licks her full red lips as she uses both hands to take out my stiff cock, squeezing the throbbing shaft and sliding her hand down under my balls. I just stand there, without a word as she rubs my “manhood.” I have walked both of us into a poolside cabana, and I sit down in a canvas chair. The woman kneels between my legs and undoes my belt and opens my pants and begins to go to work on me. She starts by licking the head and then moves down the shaft; then she is kissing my erection and gently biting me all over, until her coral lips open and she slides down my hard cock, taking all of me into her mouth. I can feel the back of her throat as she plunges down on me, and as she pulls back, I feel the suction and the swirl of her hot tongue. My head is pounding as this beautiful woman skillfully brings me close to orgasm, but she slows her pace as I sense the sperm welling up inside me. My hands have found the zipper of her gown, as she “works” on me and I have drawn it down, folded back the cloth to expose her black lace bra. The back strap is unhooked and I soon have my hands cupping the firm, pink-nippled heavy breasts of this sexpot. She is moving me in and out faster now, and she is teasing my buttocks with her fingers and as she pushes her middle finger slowly up me – I explode in her mouth. Waves of pleasure throb in my loins as she drains me. I lay back dazed and exhausted –

her face thrust between my legs. I open my eyes as I hear applause and talking and laughter. The whole side of the cabana is open and several people have been watching us in the dark as we “performed.”

14

Sharing the Woman

with Another Man

Two sailors ashore decided to share a whore. They find her, fuck her, and go back to the ship and forget her, their friendship and feelings of masculinity somehow reinforced at the woman’s expense.

Drugstore psychiatrists wink at stories like these. What these two men “really” wanted, they derisively explain, is not so much contact with the woman, as feeling of greater closeness between themselves: the prostitute was used merely as a conduit to communicate emotions to one another that they’d become violent to hear named aloud.

That may be true, but it is only part of a large truth. The two sailors may never have had an overtly homosexual encounter in their lives, or a conscious homosexual desire. Does that mean nothing? What is gained by hastily tagging them

“latent queers” or some other ugly and imprecise label that does nothing but express the anxious superiority of the name caller?

Here begins one of the most highly charged (and misunderstood) themes in male sexuality: homoerotic emotions. In the fantasies in this chapter and the four chapters that follow, homosexual desires are sometimes openly acknowledged, sometimes not. I myself do not call any man gay unless that is the name he gives himself.

What I feel is more important than mere pigeonholing is the evidence, in my contributors’ own words, of a new awareness among men that traditional masculine attitudes of isolation from the competition with all other men leads to an impoverishment of the possibilities of life; the strained, exaggerated effort to forestall even the merest suspicion that one might harbor emotional interest in another man is an artificial stance too burdensome to maintain.

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What I find really significant in these fantasies is not whether the men “really” want sex with one another, but how important – right in the heart of these homoerotic reveries – is the presence of a female figure. It is under her aegis that the male rapprochement takes place. Only in the avowedly homosexual fantasies does she not appear, though there are exceptions to this, too, even in the gayest of fantasies I’ve collected.

Coming out of a lifetime of predominantly heterosexual feelings and actions, many men are bewildered, puzzled and dismayed to find themselves heated by notions of including another male in their eroticism. To such a man, the inclusion of a woman in the scene is a sovereign anxiety alleviator. She allows him to feel things his conscious mind may ignore but his anxiety unerringly recognizes. Like a clever playwright who brings the star on stage in disguise, the fantasist may seem to indicate that the greatest intensity of emotion is being played out between the two men; the woman in these reveries may appear in the role of a second-class citizen. But she represents the wisdom of the unconscious.

In her omniscience and smiling compassion, she takes up arms on his side against his guilty conscience. She affirms life in all its bedevilling complexity. “Sure,” she says, “I know you have these feelings about your best friend. I know you miss the easy horsing around you used to do with the other guys when you were a kid, and sex came without the strings that women attach to it. I know somewhere in you you’re guilty about having done it then, and you’re even trying to pretend now that it never happened. I know that while you are excited by having this other man in the scene, it doesn’t necessarily mean you want to have sex with him.

Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t. In neither case does it mean you have to hate yourself. These emotions are playful, trying to see how this would feel, how that would feel. I understand these ideas, and there is nothing wrong with them. I’m here.

I’m enjoying them as much as you. Everything is okay.” Nancy Friday

326

VANCE

My wife and I are both college graduates. We are in our thirties and live in most ways in the mainstream of America. I commute to work on Wall Street, and she has always been involved with teaching school on a full-time basis or church work and community volunteer work on a part-time basis.

Our two children are in elementary school.

For thirteen years our marriage has been a rich, dynamic and joyful experience. Each of us has had rich fantasy lives, and we frequently discuss our mutual fantasies. Once out in the open, we often examine them to try to understand what meaning they might have. Sometimes one of us has wanted to live out our fantasies; sometimes we have wanted to keep them in the fantasy world.

This began when I once told my wife of a fantasy about another couple our age. It led to a frank discussion of our sexual attraction to others. In this way, I was able to lead my wife into a more and more open marriage. My wife is very attractive, vivacious and sensual.

Recently Jack came to visit us during a business trip. He is an extremely successful businessman who lived near us for a year. We had planned a big evening – cocktails, going out to dinner, and good conversation. We started with the cocktails and soon we were all getting relaxed and very comfortable.

We exchanged warm sentiments about our mutual friendship toward each other and could have gone on for hours, but we decided we’d better start thinking about dinner. Since Jack had been traveling that day, we offered to wait for him to shower before going out.

We have a large shower which we call our family shower, and we both suggested he use that. Suddenly my wife and I looked at each other with a knowing glance and we realized we were both thinking of the possibility of joining Jack in the shower. Just high enough to make it seem very feasible, I half suggested and half promised that we’d join him. Jack is very Men In Love

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uninhibited himself and it didn’t surprise us when he laughed lustfully and said, “Great!” ... We did.

When my lovely wife walked into the shower, he immediately got an erection. Soon we were all laughing and sudsing each other. I began kissing my wife’s neck and massaging her breasts, and soon her pussy. Gently but hungrily, Jack joined in. It was extremely erotic to see her pressed up against him.

As she writhed under the growing excitement in our hands she reached for both our cocks simultaneously, masturbating us for a few crazy seconds.

As if she had gotten the last word, she coyly got out of the shower and started to dry off, leaving Jack and me standing with our hard-ons, partly to end the shower scene but partly also to suggest that if we wanted to get any “heavier” we should meet her on drier ground. We also got out then and started towelling her off, taking turns kissing her mouth and neck. I dropped to my knees, saying I would dry her legs, and started eating her. She went wild as Jack kissed her neck and I kissed her pussy. Then I said, “Jack, why don’t you dry the other leg?” Instantly he was kneeling between her legs and eating her while I kissed her neck. Her hips were instinctively grinding in and out. Jack and I exchanged places one more time and soon, squirming and moaning, she exploded in a trembling climax.

BOOK: FOREWORD
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