“'Oh Rosalind,' Freddy moaned.
“I felt his penis pulse in me and hot fluid spurt. He began to pant with ecstasy.
“'I… I'm shooting off,' he moaned. 'Ohhhhh, Rosalind.'
“My rectum was really lubricated now, slippery and slimy with his semen, and suddenly he released my hips so that I slid down, and his penis just shot up my rear all the way, all nine inches. It just sent a shock right through me. I'd never felt anything so overwhelming. I felt stuffed, crammed, and packed back there, as if I was on the toilet with this monstrous turd which had a life of its own. I just loved it. Wow!
“'Ooooh, Freddy, it feels so good!' I sighed. I didn't want him to pump. I just wanted him to let me sit on his lap with his thing way up my fanny. It would be so lovely to just drift off to sleep with it in me and to wake up that way. I sighed and relaxed against him. I smoothed my dress in front so that it covered my upper thighs. If anyone looked in and saw us, they'd only see a girl sitting on a boy's lap and wouldn't know that the entire length of his penis was up my rectum. There was no pain at all now, only the fullness, the intense pressure. It wasn't exactly ecstatic, just nice. What could be wrong with it? I thought. Who did it hurt? I couldn't possibly get pregnant that way, and it certainly didn't hurt him or me or anybody else.
“'Do you like it?' he asked me in a whisper. “'Oh yes, Freddy, I do. It feels so good. I love it.'
“It was a lovely, comfortable feeling, so very good. Maybe I was a queer, but so what.
“Suddenly, without warning, Freddy started to pump himself in and out. I felt him withdraw until he was almost out and then plunge on up in, full length. It just sent chills up me when he shoved it in. It felt so peculiar, moving up and down in me without me having any control over it. It was exciting. I tried pressing back as it plunged in, and the sensation was tremendous. I held my thighs tightly together and it was just overpowering. It was so intense that I had to close my eyes. A sweet flooding pain welled up in me. I wanted to strip naked, spread my legs wide, and bend until my head was down to my ankles. I wanted his penis to be five feet long and as thick as a firehose. I loved his penis pounding in me, in and out, back until almost the very tip was out and then surging way up high until the entire length was buried in my rectum.
“'Ohhhhhhhh,' I moaned. 'Ohhhhhhhh, it feels so good.' I reached my climax just at the moment when he began spurting semen up me a second time. We were both trembling. Then, gradually, we relaxed and, as I rose up, his shriveled thing slid out. I pulled up my panty hose and smoothed down my mini.
“'Ohhh, Freddy,' I moaned, 'that was wonderful.'
“Freddy and I did it quite a few times after that. We love each other. I guess we're pretty lucky to like the same thing so much. It would be awful if only one of us liked it. Now we're planning to get married and I think the only intercourse we'll have is anal intercourse because that's the kind we both love.”
Rosalind and Freddy are both anal erotic. Most analists are lonely folk, timid and ashamed, unable to completely relate to another person. In view of the fact that anal eroticism is not common, it is very fortunate that Rosalind and Freddy happened to find each other. In the eyes of conventional people they are, of course, perverts. But is any sexual practice perverse if it makes for a close pair bond? In their case, it is doubtful that they can be classified as deviates. In any case, theirs is an innocent and wholly moral form of sexuality, St. Paul's harsh and judgmental letter to the Romans to the contrary.
CHAPTER TWO
PATRICIA
“To begin with, it was Mom's problem. I understand that now. Something twisted in her childhood, and although she was pretty and popular when she was young she was frigid. She met this man, my father, at the university. He was one of those hard and conventional guys, on the make, and she fell for his line, let him get her into trouble, and found herself pregnant, with me. She let him do the so-called 'right thing' and marry her, which was the Wrong thing. Anyhow, Harry- that's his name and I can never think of him as Dad or Father-made a good thing out of his building business, but the marriage didn't take. Things, went from bad to worse, and it all ended up in the divorce court. Neither the judge nor Harry thought that Millicent, that's my mother, was much good for me, but since the courts always give the kids to the mother unless she's a prostitute or something, I went off to live with my mother. It happened when I was about seven.
“Harry was pretty well off, and Mom didn't have to work or anything. She was pretty attractive too, at thirty, and although she dated from time to time she was so soured on marriage that she just couldn't get over the way she hated men. She just hated them. She was very intelligent and had a lot of hobbies, used to take courses and stuff and Harry had been very contemptuous of all that, just as he hated what he called her 'egghead friends.' All that stuff made their divorce inevitable. Afterwards, Mom and I lived on the coast.
“Mom used to fuss over me a lot. She really adored me. And by the time I was around twelve, I guess I was pretty spoiled. I was just the center of her whole world. I was pretty quiet, never ran around with kids much, used to read a lot, and had pretty high marks. I liked school pretty well and got on with the kids, but mostly I just liked staying home with Mom.
“Then, when I was fifteen, Mom did something to me. She gave me this absolutely fantastic enema. It wasn't the first time, though, and I guess I better mention the first time before I tell about the time that really was so wild. It happened when I was thirteen.
“Mom used to come for me at school and drive me home even though we lived only three blocks away. She was always that way. Mom was always fussing over me, helping me dress and all that in the morning, go with me to kid movies, and buy me stuff. She used to get cross at me and nag a lot, too.
“This particular time she scolded me for getting a spot on my new yellow dress, which made me mad so I sat there in the car and pouted. Then she wanted to know if I'd been to the toilet that morning, which also made me kind of mad because she was always fussing over me about that stuff. Usually I told her I had even when I hadn't because I hate laxatives.
“Then she started in on me.
“'Well dear, that doesn't sound good at all; you must tell me when you don't go because you don't want that poison in your system.'
“'I feel fine,' I said.
“'Well,' she said, 'I think I'd better give you a good cleaning out.'
“I thought she meant a laxative and told her I didn't want to take any of that old stuff, but what she had in mind was much worse.
“'No,' she said, 'as soon as we get home I'm going to give you a good enema.'
“'Oh, no, Mother,' I cried. I just about died. 'Please don't give me an enema. I hate enemas.'
“'How do you know if you've never had one?'
“'I just know it,' I said, so mad I was starting to cry. 'I don't want anybody sticking anything up my rear end.'
“I just felt sick I was so mad and scared. And I think the worst part of it was the idea of having to get undressed in front of Mom because even though she used to help me get dressed and stuff this seemed different. It was awfully indecent.
“But I couldn't talk her out of it, so we just drove along and she started asking me what I'd done in school and all that crap. I was sitting there with my legs crossed, like I usually do, and my dress rode up on my thighs.
“Mom said, 'Pull your dress down, dear,' which I thought was really dumb, and I wondered why it was unladylike to expose a little of my legs when in a few minutes she was going to be staring at my bare bottom and shoving a rubber hose up me. The whole thing was really stupid.