Ward Fulton - The Forbidden Family Game

"Phil eased his hand from behind me and turned me gently, on to my back. I just flopped there, everything open. Ready. Waiting. And excited. Phil ran his tongue over one nipple, nibbled at it, very lightly, and then on the other, and then ran his tongue down my belly. I have a very nice, flat little tummy. From all the exercise-fencing, judo, dancing. On to my belly button-that really started things churning. And then down on my cunt, tonguing my little clitoris so that I was moaning and pushing up my pelvis to get his tongue in deeper.

"It slid in, so I could feel the wet roughness of it on my flesh-not as rough as a cat's tongue, but it did tease and set things on fire. I almost expected steam to rise from down there, I was so hot.

"This time I could see, sort of looking down my nose and peering between my breasts. That made things even better. Seeing Phil pressing his face into my cunt. None of the girls had ever mentioned that, Just the sheer intimacy of it was wonderful, a kiss on my cunt! Plus it was thrilling in itself.

"Phil straightened up and lay beside me, rolling again so his prick actually touched my cunt. And the neon went on again, sparking and colorful behind my eyes, even though they were open to watch. This time I meant to see everything.

"I did. I watched Phil get up on his knees and straddle my legs, first, pulling them together and letting his dong get caught in that soft vise. He held himself off me, on his elbows, and his hands played with my teats and nipples while his pecker rode up and down between my legs, teasing the hot, wet lips of my cunt, until I was ready to scream, even trying to open my legs so he'd stick that shaft and head into me.

"I humped to match his plunges, so I got more action of his prick against my cunt, even feeling it hit and tease my clitoris from time to time. I reached down and clawed at his rump, trying to pull him into me. Suddenly he released my legs and they fell open-wide-and he knelt between 'em, his pecker head drumming at my cunt.

"I humped just as he plunged, and his head and shaft shot up in me, almost searing me, it made things so hot. And so good! I squealed and clawed harder at his rump, pulling him up, so as not to miss the least bit of that shaft and head. Of course, he could have pulled away, I guess. I've got nice muscles, but I don't think I could have held him if he didn't want me to. Oh, he wanted me to hold him, all right-and he wanted that head flung as far up me as possible. And it went, driving up and up and up.

"I could feel every slightest move of it-each new movement stirring more excitement, more fire. Until his curly pubic hair-he didn't have much, but some-was right up against my bare little mound. And we were humping at each other. I must have sounded like a little animal, grunting and squealing. And Phil was cursing-soft but sort of continuous, as if he was talking to something inside him, trying to make it work harder-and better.

"Then he gave a sort of triumphant grunt and pulled back, hard against my hands, until his prick was nearly out of my cunt. He did something rotary with his rump and dropped back on me, ramming his dong way back up, and pressed against me, shuddering and shaking and saying, 'Oh, my God, oh my God!' but he wasn't praying.

"I felt the jolt of his shaft as it swelled in my cunt, felt the pound of it going up inside me, and the exquisite pleasure of it bursting way up me. And I burst, too. Into a million pieces, it seemed. But only inside. Everything just let go. In the most wonderful way possible. I heard booming music and saw wild, colorful lights and felt my body get so light I thought it would float, except for Phil's weight on me.

"I clung to him, crying now but not really crying, just a sort of whimper because it all felt so good.

"Phil started to deflate, all of him. His arms sort of caved in and he pressed down on me, his head beside mine, buried in the couch, still saying, 'Oh, my God! Oh, my God!' His dick trembled and began to go down, sliding out, in spite of all my little cunt could do to hold it a moment longer, for more of that wonderful explosion. Finally, as it popped out, Phil rolled off me and dropped down beside me, staring at nothing, still saying, 'Oh, my God!' but dwindling until it was just a murmur in his throat.

"My whimpers died down, until we just lay there, warm bodies touching, spent, exhausted. Happy just to breathe, it seemed. Finally Phil rolled over and slid an arm under me and we just cuddled, content. At least, I was content. Content? I was supremely happy. I had someone to love me, and demonstrate that love in the closest, sweetest way possible. And physically and emotionally, I was satisfied.

"We did it after that nearly every night, after my governess had 'properly' supervised my going to bed-seeing that I bathed and brushed my teeth and checked my braces. As if I were still a child. I wanted to shout at her, 'I'm a woman! I've been fucked!' but I never did, of course. Though maybe she knew-or guessed. Another woman can often tell.

"Later, after I'd learned more, I branched out Phil was nice, but he really wasn't a full-grown man. So I tried a couple of the chauffeurs, the cute ones, and the riding master, who tried to look European and came from Brooklyn. Later still, of course, I went into the business."

Fay Y- (or "Mavris") would seem to be the obverse of the Electra complex, the Electra story being that Electra was incestuously in love with her father and suffered incredibly because of it. Fay was certainly not, and apparently never had been, in the least enamored of her father. Quite the reverse. There is little to indicate that there was any "father image" involved in her incestuous relations with her brother.

Certainly, from early childhood she despised her father and his pretentious television show. She also despised her mother, for her completely artificial attitudes about her children.

It was rejection from which Fay suffered most. Surrounded by luxury, she was, nevertheless, a poverty-ridden child-the poverty being lack of love. Her delinquency was born of this simple, basic need of all children. There is no need to search in the dark corners of the mind for an Electra complex and its inversion, though many psychiatric workers would be happy to do so, at exorbitant fees, as Fay mentioned.

Fay had seen, from behind the scenes, the perversions of all that childhood held dear. She knew her father's show was a mockery, a deliberate piece of tomfoolery for the purpose of making lots of money. She saw the sleaziness of the structure he had built, using the best of childhood callously for financial gain. And not even honestly. At least in her opinion, and she was certainly close enough to it to judge.

She would probably not have had such violent reactions if her father had turned on some of that charm at home, if he had been, as he portrayed, the big, warm-hearted "daddy," Many children are deprived of a father's physical presence by the father's job or profession, but still retain a warm affection for him, often engendered and encouraged by the mother.

With Fay, she had lost both parents, all because of what she felt was a completely false situation. Her mother, in her eyes, was a silly, affected pretender, with less excuse than her father, riding, in feet, on the coattails of his success as "jolly big daddy."

She certainly did not lack any physical needs. These were amply taken care of by a succession of hirelings. But they did not add up to the one thing she needed; parental affection. In that department, Fay said privately, she "got the big brush-off." As she says of her sister, Alex, who went into social work among the blind, "It seemed kind of fitting- her own mother and father never could see her. Or didn't bother to." This may or may not have been Alex's motivation, but it seemed so to the child Fay, since she also suffered from this form of parental blindness.