was just another warm body for me to work on with my mouth. I'm a girl who has to have a cock in my mouth. Unless I can get my lips around a hard, hot prick I'm no good in bed for myself or anyone else. Unless I'm sucking the love juice from some big cock, I'm not worth a damn. I'm not a woman at all, I'm just a big open mouth. It's the only way I can express my love.
SUMMARY
I felt that Gwenn's case might well be one the resolution of which could provide important insights into other cases. As such, I was able to have my psychologist
friend interview Miss Henderson without accepting a fee. The meeting was arranged and he was able to speak at great length with her. During a series of interview and consultations with her, he was able not only to verify the validity of the actions which she had previously told me, but was presented with her diary as well. She indicated to him that she was willing to have me publish the diary in order to ease the minds of girls who may be suffering the same emotional problems as herself.
Although Gwenn's desire for the feeling of a male penis in her mouth may be somewhat stronger than usual, the act itself is not, of course, so unique. It is, after all, only a variation from the 'standard' position usually assumed by human beings during the act of love. And that position is far from universal.
According to Maxine Davis, in her book, The Sexual Responsibility of Women, other cultures have decidedly different ideas about what IS 'standard.'
She writes, 'The most usual position in this country and in England is the man above and the woman beneath… ' The author then adds that, 'Many people have the impression that any other is abnormal if not an actual perversion. Nobody is certain just where that idea came from but it has been widespread for centuries.' Contrasting this view with that of another culture, the author points out, 'Some primitive people in the Southwest Pacific islands even think (the 'standard' position) is comical and call it the 'missionary position.'
In a 1962 article in Sexology Magazine entitled 'What is 'Normal' Sex Behavior?' Albert Ellis writes, 'Normal sex behavior, from whatever point one views it, amounts, in the last analysis, to socially approved sex behavior. For any group to state, therefore, that certain sex acts are 'abnormal,' 'immature,' or 'immoral,' or 'biologically unsound,' is for this group to make this act what it has been declared to be for most of the individuals living within the group who (consciously or unconsciously) are influenced by its statements.'.
Unfortunately for Gwenn, her mother obviously regarded the act of fellatio with such an attitude. And this feeling resulted in Gwenn's unusually strong desire for the act.
On one level, of course, we may view Gwenn as simply an extremely promiscuous young woman. But to dismiss her problem that perfunctorily would be an injustice not only to her, but to the precepts of psychiatry as well. We should not be concerned so much with labeling a person's psychological malady as with investigating the relevant underlying causes of it, and, hopefully, with correcting or curing it. Unfortunately, it proved impossible to actually cure Gwenn, for she suffered from a self-perpetuating, traumatically induced erotic compulsion. She did not really desire to behave differently, in other words;
She was at least able to consciously understand the motivation behind her sexual excesses and this in itself was some comfort to her. Today she is as happy and
productive as possible, under the circumstances, and she lives a relatively normal life in spite of her depraved erotic acts.
Although she allowed herself to be involved in many different kinds of sexual relationships with many partners, sometimes even enjoying coitus to some extent, the ultimate experience of a better and grander orgasm dangled in front of her like a carrot on a string-always desired but never attainable.
Chapter III
Dear Diary,
The guy I have a date with is a swell looking guy who works in the loan department. His name is Larry and he's tall and dark, with the greatest eyes you've ever seen. When I told Lena and Sue about him they said he's nothing but a big wolf, but I think they're just jealous. I have to take some clothes to the cleaners. 'Bye for now.
Dear Diary,
It's Thursday night. I can't wait 'till Saturday. Larry is taking me to dinner at some expensive restaurant. I saw him for a few minutes today and he was real nice to me. He couldn't keep his eyes off my body, even at the office. Well, it's guys like him who are welcome to look.
Dear Diary,
It's Friday night. Larry just called to say there'd been a change in plans. What he has in mind now should be even more fun than the restaurant, though, so it's fine with me. He told me that he's a gourmet cook-isn't that exciting? — and that he wants to prepare dinner for us in his apartment.
He has the deepest, most masculine voice I've ever heard. And I've found out around the office that he's dated a lot of girls from there. It's really a compliment that he wants to date me after having so many other girls to choose from. I can't wait until tomorrow night rolls around. I don't know if he has any ideas about getting me in bed or not, but he's so good-looking that I just-might let him if he's nice. Maybe he'll be a guy with the kind of cock I like.
I started taking birth control pills a month ago so I won't have-to worry about that anymore. How I got through high school without getting myself pregnant is more than I know. For a long time I was so uninformed that I thought a girl couldn't have a baby unless she had a climax when she was fucking, but then I found out that was just a lot of bull crap.
But don't get me wrong, Diary. I'm not going to be easy for him, even if he does come on strong. If I like him I just might keep him interested with going all the way for a while. I think my body is exciting enough to do the trick.
And don't think I'm just a big braggart. I looked myself over carefully in the mirror last night after taking a bath and I know why all the guy's eyes follow me around the bank all the time. They just can't wait to watch me bend over so they can try to get a peek down into my blouse. Maybe I don't have the most beautiful face in the world but I more than make up for it my body. When I was looking at myself in the mirror I thought about how all the guys whose eyes are on me all day to see as much of me as I saw in the mirror. My tits are finer and firmer than they ever were, and my legs look better in stockings than any other girl's in the office.
Wish me luck. Tomorrow's the night.
Dear Diary,
It's Sunday morning but I've got to tell you about my date with Larry. I'm reading the Sunday funnies and sitting here in my bra and panties right now. Last night, though, I got down to less clothes than that at Larry's place. Let me tell you all the details and you'll know how hard it is to be a young girl in San Francisco… especially a young girl who happens to have measurements on the order of mine, 39-24-37.
When Larry picked me up I was in real good spirits. And the way he looked me over made me know he was well pleased with what I was wearing. He looked just as good to me as I'm sure I did to him, too. He was wearing a European cut jacket with a great looking white turtleneck sweater.
I had on a light blue knit mini-dress that molded itself perfectly to my figure. And it was a little shorter than the ones I wear to the bank. Larry could see about five inches above my knees-but remember, I am a pretty tall girl so it wasn't an indecent length like some of the girls wear. Of course, when I knelt down or raised my leg to take a high step up stairs or onto a curb I guess Larry could see a little more.
In the car, Diary, it was so funny. It seemed like he couldn't decide where he wanted to keep his eyes-on the road, on my legs, or on my chest. Well, I called it my 'chest' where he was looking, but I'm sure that he thought of two big tits instead of a chest. In addition to being shorter than usual, my dress was also pretty low cut. And in a knit dress that's low cut, you can see what a girl's hiding in her brassiere awfully well. My dress had a V-shaped collar that dipped down far enough to let plenty of cleavage show. It was more than just cleavage, really. The way
