Jack Benjamin - The Paths Of Incest

By the time I was 16, and allowed to go out on dates Roy was married. The sonofabitch never let up on me. He'd even have me babysit, then, when he took me home, the dirty bastard would jump me. If I didn't give in, he'd beat the hell out of me-only now, he'd hit me in the stomach or the cunt, so it wouldn't show. He knew damned well that I wouldn't tell.

I'd got fed up with this religious jazz, by that I time. "Thou shalt not do this and that"-horseshit. You did whatever you could get away with.

I decided, at 16, I was going to get mine-Roy's way. But it didn't work. I knew too many nice guys, from the. church crowd. Even guys from school wanted to take it slow and easy. By that time, I was too used to force. I needed that crutch in my mind-to feel that, even if I'd enjoyed a good screw, I'd been made to do it. So, none of these guys made it to bed with me, nor in the car, either.

When I was 16 I met Jim. He had been married before and thought he knew his way around women. Frankly, he bored me, with his gentle, sneaky pussy kissing and all. But he was going to another town on a new job, so I married him, and went away. For a month or so, it was good-just being away from Roy. Then I began to get bored. Jim couldn't satisfy me any way. He was too gentle-too much in love. I had a session with a guy who came to the door selling sewing machines. I guess I led him on, and when I got a little scared, and started to back off, he just belted me and raped me. You know-I enjoyed it more than any fuck I'd had since Roy?

I left Jim. Just walked out, like that, with thirty bucks. I went to Chicago and got a job as a "21 Girl." Know what that is? It's a high-class whore's job, suckering guys into blowing their dough. I got tired of seeing those dumb Johns throw their dough away on a dice game, and decided to get some for me. Then Shelly, the owner of the joint, started after me. I played it cool for a while, until one night he ended up in my apartment-guess what? Kissing pussy. No real man. A beggar, like my husband. But he had what it takes-scratch-and I let him buy me a divorce, and we got married.

To my dismay and surprise, privately, Shelly is a hell of a nice guy. No screwing around with other dames-no nothing. Only the quiet, dull approach-kissing my breasts, feeling my ass-sneaking his cock quietly and subserviently into my cunt. What in hell kind of a man is that?

I took a thousand dollars from him and headed for San Francisco. Same old story. One night, I went down on the waterfront-not the tourist traps-the real thing. I wanted a man. I didn't put it into words, but I wanted a man like Roy! I found one all right, and ended up in the hospital! While there, I was raped by an intern, and I decided that he was for me. We got married, after I got a Reno divorce, and I discovered that this, kiddo was a weirdo. He was on LSD, and he was a bi-sexual. He even brought some buddies home, and begged me to let them experiment on curing themselves of queerness-using my body!

I cut out fast. I ended here, in Los Angeles. Wouldn't you know that the first guy I'd hook up with was a queer? He was a good joe, though, and treated me right-but he couldn't get a hard on for a woman. He had some dough. He was a producer in TV, and he wanted me for a front-you know, to make his little "boy scenes" look good.

So, I head back east. I met Millie, and she was making lots of loot as a call girl-but a special kind. She was a "whipper" and a "burner." She'd cater to these weirdoes (I should be calling anybody else a weirdo?) But, she introduced me to some brand-new "Roys"-guys who really got their hard ons by belting the hell out of a woman, and I knew what I was for the first time-believe it or not.

We opened up this joint, and we took in a nice five grand a week. Would you believe there were that many men who would pay to get a beating? And little old me-? I enjoyed it. We had a couple of steady customers who wanted to do the beating, and it worked out just fine, because that was the man for me. I wouldn't touch a masochist sexually. I'd beat the hell out of some jerk, then I'd masturbate, or call up one of the roughnecks that could make me get a "hard on" for them by beating or burning me first.

She still needs a strong, sadistic hand before she can fully enjoy the sex act. She has been in the hospital numerous times; she has consulted many psychologists and psychiatrists. Whether the hypno-therapy will work for her is problematical and she has been so informed. She is still trying to understand the deep-seated undercurrents that motivate her. Many psychiatrists are of the opinion that the only sensible (though not happy) solution to such a problem, is for the masochist (Georgia) to seek out a sadistic partner, such as her brother. Other psychiatrists are equally positive that she will only find happiness with a gently, tender and loving man, after she herself has faced her problem squarely, and admitted that her route has been the wrong and harmful one.

Georgia herself doesn't know which road to take. She alternately dates a hulking, brutish truck driver, with obvious sadistic tendencies, and a high school teacher who is gentle, serious, affectionate and a solid rock upon which to build a marriage. When, and if, Georgia decides, she will become a statistic-an interesting study in masochism versus true love and kindness. She is still an attractive, personable woman, in spite of the hard exterior she has built. Few experts care to predict her future. She may end as a happy housewife, stronger and more mature for her earlier unhappy experiences. But-Georgia may also end up in an alley, beaten to death by some idiot-and still, to the moment of her death-sexually unsatisfied-because of a sadistic brother, named Roy.

Brother-sister incest which begins when both are in their early teens, frequently has a more lasting effect. An interesting study is that of Lester A. Les is a happily married, well-adjusted man of 38, today, and was quite enthusiastic about the use of his case history, in the hope that others might read of his recovery and take the proper steps to bring about an adjustment in their own sex lives. One unusual feature of Lester's case is that he accomplished this solely on his own. He enrolled in a course in self-hypnosis; ostensibly (he told the class and instructor) to stop smoking and nail-biting. His real reason was, as he will relate to us, to overcome the tremendous sexual attraction his sister had held for him, since he was 13 years old, and she 15. My mother and father were divorced when I was four years old. For some strange reason, my mother was given custody of my sister, Gail, while I lived with my father. Both remarried, and I saw my sister usually only once a year, in the summer. We were strangers in a real sense. I did come to know, after Gail had begun to bud into young womanhood, at about age 12, that she detested her stepfather. He was constantly after her, she told me, feeling her, trying to get her to let him have intercourse with her. He had managed to kiss her breasts and get her panties off a couple of times, but she always managed to scare him off by threatening to tell her mother.

When I was 12, my father and stepmother were killed in an auto accident and the court appointed my mother and stepfather as my legal guardians, because of the heavy insurance money and property which my parents owned. My father had so stipulated in his will, and the courts approved.

So, just as I was entering puberty and Gail was fully launched into teenhood, we were thrown together. I know now that I actually did not see her as a sister, but as a somewhat pretty, very sexy and shapely girl, who was only a year older than myself. By this time, I was almost a stranger to my mother and, because I never had liked my mother's second husband, I was withdrawn at first; almost a complete introvert. But Gail and I hit it off very quickly; almost automatically, because she too hated and feared her stepfather. She told me he'd still been trying to get into her panties, and now, he looked upon me as an added barrier to his schemes.