Richard Long - Anal Secretaries

“Close the door and come here,” he told me.

“I did and he started loving me. We didn’t have to worry about anyone interrupting us. No one ever goes into an executive’s office without knocking first. We were almost naked when I got this brainstorm of mine. I guess seeing Jeff’s cock-he was rock hard this time-made me think of it, or maybe it was something else. Anyway, I suggested that we go into his john and do our fucking there. He thought it was a nice idea and, as soon as he was stripped, in we went! “He sat on the stool and let me sit over him. I started to do it facing him but then I turned around and backed down onto him, first putting my cunt over his cock to get it slippery enough and then getting off and moving forward just enough that his prod would dip right into my asshole. It wasn’t until I’d already made the switch that I realized what I’d done-I was get ting flicked in exactly the same way- that. Mom was getting it from Dad that time that I saw them in their bathroom! When I realized that, I just about shit all over myself, it was so sexy, and then I reached down to grab hold of my pussy and, man, it was just ‘Come City’ from then on. I just had myself a perfectly wonderful time with that big cock of my boss up my ass!”

One might assume, from reading the second portion of Judy’s case history, that she had come to view her relations with men in a slightly different light and that her relations with Jeff were more nearly normal than the earlier affairs into which her guilt had driven her. We must caution the reader against drawing an overly hasty conclusion. Judy’s behavior still shows strong evidence of her fundamental distaste for the acts to which she was driven. This distaste is quite apparent in her account of their love play inside Jeff’s bathroom. She mentioned that at first she started to sit on him with her face toward him but that she turned and presented her back to him. This change is highly significant, as we can see from Albert Ellis’s conclusion that “a man, who feels so guilty about having intercourse with any woman that he is afraid to look her in the eye while having it, and consequently always enters her vagina from the rear, is a distinct sex neurotic or deviate-even though he is engaging in a sex act that under most circumstances would not in the least be berated or perverted.” (Ellis, Art and Science of Love, p. 227.) While Dr. Ellis’s words applied to males and vaginal intercourse, we can easily see that the basic contention would also hold when we consider the case of a woman addicted to anal sexual acts. Despite the slight change in her verbal attitudes, Judy’s essential loathing for anal sex continues, as does her need to be symbolically punished and degraded for her imagined offenses of long ago.

“Got a date tonight?” Helen asked me as we walked out to the parking lot after another day in the secretarial pool.

“Yeah, I’m going bowling with Harry,” I told her.

“Harry? That creep? Jeez, what a washout he was when he took me out!”

“Oh, you’ve been out with him, huh? What was he like?”

“He’s all right, I guess, except that he’s not much good for anything except bowling and dancing,” Helen said. “When it comes to loving, he just can’t get up to the mark. Of course, with you he might be different, but that’s the way I found him.”

“What was the problem?” I asked.

“Helen’s one of my best friends and usually we just let it hang out all the way together; we don’t hold anything back. I’ve found that’s the best way to be when it’s just girls together, especially when the subject is guys. You can find out a lot that you need to know from other girls, and sometimes they can save you a lot of grief. Helen’s a big, busty blonde and she really gives all the guys a workout. I guess she’s’ dated just about every one of the, salesmen that work through our pool and some of the big shot executives too. She’s modern enough to know that they aren’t taking her out because of her fine mind or anything like that and I think she sort of enjoys getting a lot of attention from guys-especially the kind of attention that ends up with her getting in bed with them! “He’s just a shrimp,” she told me. “I mean, like hardly anything at all!”

“You mean between his legs?” I asked.

“Where else? Oh, he’s hip enough,” she said. “You know, about going down on a girl and all that, but he just doesn’t have the site I like in a guy.” ‘Hey, you know something?” I said, looking at her with surprise. “I never thought about that. It really makes a difference, doesn’t it? I mean, how big a guy is down there?” ‘Honey, it makes all the difference in the world,” she said, giving me that woman-to-woman look that told me she was really leveling with me. “A little guy, he’s all right, I guess, till you’ve had a real man in that little hole.

Then you really start to see what it’s all about!”

“Now you might think I’m putting you on, but when Helen and I had that little talk I really didn’t know it made that much 6f a difference. Of course, up until that time I hadn’t really had much experience with any guy that was very big down there. I was nineteen — then, fresh out of business school and I’ll admit that I had a lot to learn about things. I sure wasn’t any virgin. I’d let a guy stick it to me when I was sixteen, and since that time I’d gotten serious with seven or eight guys, I suppose. But it didn’t last long with any of them.

I knew now that they didn’t get really worked up about me because I didn’t know how to do it; and I never got much fun out of it.

“The evening with Harry turned out to be one of the most educational events of my entire life. Not because Harry showed me anything. He was just about the way. Helen said he was. But that was the first time that I ever really paid much attention to a guy, or to what I was doing with him. Later that night, after we’d left Harry’s place and he’d dropped me off at my efficiency, I started thinking about what all we’d done and I realized that Helen was right: he didn’t have much between his legs! I didn’t get out a tape and measure him or anything like that but when I was jacking him off, trying to get him bard enough for fucking, I took a good close look at what I bad in my band. I tiled to guess about how much of it was sticking out of my palm and later, when I was back at my’ place, I did a little measuring.

“The way I figured it, Harry had about five and a’ half or maybe six inches of prick. Now I knew damned well, from listening to girls at the office, that this wasn’t a whole lot. I didn’t know what was big, though, and I put it to Helen the first chance I got.

“How big is big?” I asked her. "I mean, when you’re talking about a guy’s cock?

How big do they get?”

“Ah, you noticed what I was talking about!” she said triumphantly, ‘a big smile on her face.

“Helen told me a lot about guys and how they can differ so much. Like, maybe one guy won’t be very long but he’ll have a real thick one and then another guy might be really long, maybe eight or nine inches, but he wouldn’t be any bigger around than Harry’s is.

“The real studs, though, are the ones that have it both long and thick,” she told me, and you could tell from the look in her eyes that she really liked that kind the best. “A guy like that, you can really tell it when ho starts putting the meat to you!”

“Doesn’t it hurt, having a guy that big?” I asked. “I mean, that would be almost twice as long as Harry’s prick and.a ‘lot bigger around. What would happen if he drew back and really shoved it all in you at once?”