Mike Phillips - The many tongues of love

Carey observed his parents having intercourse. This is an almost universal occurrence – if a child doesn't actually see his parents engaged in intercourse, he will fantasize the situation (which is termed the "primal scene"). The primal scene evokes envy of the father for his role with the mother, in the case of the male child, and sexual excitation as well. Carey became sexually excited at this viewing, but was also disgusted in the extreme, interpreting the union as a sadistic encounter. No doubt this was because his mother was assaulting his father, again underscoring his father's passivity. This interpretation of sex by Carey is rather unique, but emphasizes his understanding of the relationship between his mother and father.

Since Carey is incapable of real love – hating his mother and father as he does – and considers the sexual act to be disgusting and sadistic, he naturally has a negative opinion of people. All these characteristics considered, we would expect Carey to be a paranoid individual. And he certainly is.

When Carey's mother saw him swimming in the nude, she was sexually excited, or so Carey said. In reality, since Carey has already been classified as a paranoid type, this sexual excitation was most probably his own, "projected" onto his mother.

Carey's sexual life has thus developed into an identification with his aggressive-sadistic mother whom he imitates when he indulges in sex. His mother was in his eyes, a castrater, hence Carey, who is fixated at the cannibalistic oral level of sexual development, seeks to "castrate" his partners as well. He chooses to engage in sex with women because, firstly, it represents revenge against his mother, whom he can delude himself into thinking he is castrating, and secondly, it provides an opportunity to overcome his intense fear that his mother will castrate him. In this way he is maintaining a semblance of heterosexuality, fixated at the oral level.

In the development of Carey's character, we see a sadistic youth, incapable of manifesting love. Without a father to identify with in a social sense, we can easily anticipate that Carey will become a social pervert, unable to get along in the world…

High school ended and it was time to think about going to college. My first impulse was to go to a school as far away as China, just to get away from my mother. But as I thought about it, the prospect seemed more and more ridiculous – I mean going to college, not China. I had never been the brightest kid in school, which means. I had to work for my grades, and when faced with never having to sit in a classroom again or to begin another four-year stretch, it was an easy choice.

Although every single person I knew was going on to college, I didn't. My parents were ashamed, or so they said. Hell, it was exactly the opposite – Dad had someone to get into the business with him, and Mother had her darling little boy at her side.

I worked for Dad – the job was almost too easy – and spent a lot of time doing photography, which has always been my hobby. It was right after high school graduation that I started taking girlie shots of the chicks I met.

I also work on the chicks, of course, and they work on me. I have a little studio set up in our garage, which is very private. I like outdoor shots, however, and when my parents are gone, I take photos out by the pool. I have, a friend, Jerry, who has a big cock and a great bod, and often we photograph each other with various chicks we pick up on the Strip.

We like to take good close-ups of sucking, where you can see the come dripping down the girl's chin or the wetness all over the guy's face from the cunt juice. That really turns me on, and I know it turns on the people I show the photos to. I try specialty photos, like a whole reel of the chick undressing, masturbating, and then bathing. Or a reel of one of us and a girl, doing nothing but sixty-nine. Or, for instance, a "Golden Shower" reel where the guy and girl do nothing but urinate on each other in various ways.

But in the middle of this, about two months ago, in walked this chick named Rhoda. She was standing on the corner of La Peer and Santa Monica, hitching a ride. I pulled over – transfixed by the sight of her great legs under the hot pants. She got in, looked into my eyes, and it was all over! We were gone on each other and we made a date for the next evening.

I was expecting to get a good few hours of sex in, but it didn't happen. We were falling in love, I think, although we didn't know it. Suddenly, getting to know each other was the most important thing, and although we were hot for each other, it would have to wait. I went home that first night and beat off four damn times, just thinking what it would be like to eat her!

Finally, after we felt at ease with each other, I invited her to the house, knowing my parents were going out. I picked her up and we drove to Taco Bell for something to eat, and then went up to the house. Dad's car was in the drive, and I shuddered. "Damn!"

"What is it?" she asked.

"They're still home."

"Oh, your mother…"

I had told her about Mother. "Well, Rhoda, let's face the firing squad. After all, they have to meet you sometime!"

We got out of my car and entered the house. My mother decided to change wigs, thus the delay. Dad was furious, and I don't know if he even realized I had introduced him to Rhoda. He grumbled and walked outside to wait in the car.

Mother came down the steps and stopped halfway down; glaring at the girl who was holding my hand. "Carey, darling, who is this?" she asked, sounding a little like Bette Davis.

"Rhoda, Mother," I said, as she came down to our level. She didn't offer her hand, didn't even smile. She just looked her over and said, "Charmed."

Then she left, pointing out that they would be home early and reminding me I had to be at work at six in the morning, for inventory or some such silly thing. Dad was blowing the car horn and it was just killing her that she had to leave me alone in the house with Rhoda, whom she thought to be a tramp from the first glance. She thought all the girls I knew were tramps – no one was good enough for her precious son.

Rhoda and I took a swim – she used one of the suits we kept handy for guests – and thoughts of that first afternoon with Madeline came rushing into my head. I wanted to see Rhoda naked, wanted to touch her and kiss her and run my tongue all over her body, but I still held back, waiting till she let me know she wanted it.

After the swim, we walked around the house and yard, and I showed everything to her. Then we got to the darkroom, and she wanted to see it. I told her it was locked and no one ever went in there.

"Why's it so secret?" she asked. "It's only a hobby."

"Well, you see, I do a lot of skin shots and I don't think you'd like to see that."

"You're kidding!"

"Not at all."

She paused for a moment and then surprised me. "I'd really love to see it! I've never known a skin photographer before in my life!"

She was really excited, almost proud of the fact. As I opened the lock, she told me her brother always kept girlie pictures and magazines around the house and she'd find them in their hiding places and look at them and get excited. Women get turned on too, you know, even by photos!

Burt Reynolds, in Cosmopolitan, flashed through my mind…

I opened the door and turned on the bright overhead light. The room carne into view – stacks of prints, developing chemicals, enlargers, all the shit one needed to be a girlie photog, Rhoda looked around, grabbing picture after picture, staring at them as if they were really blowing her mind – and maybe they were.

She asked me about many things – Who is this? Who is he? What are they doing? – and finally stopped dead when she pulled a picture from the bottom of the stack near the fixer. I didn't know what it was, and she wouldn't show me. Her face was red…