Jack Benjamin - The Paths Of Incest

They put me in a detention home for six months, and that was worse than being on the streets-except that the food was better. But the girls in there were wild. They had mostly women attendants who were sort of honor-roll inmates, and they were perverts from the word go. It was on a farm-like place, and there were about ten men who worked the place and did repairs, that sort of stuff. Nights, these women would let these guys in for screwing and sucking, and they would beat the hell out of any girl who didn't go along with it. Some of them were lesbians-that was my first contact with the female cunt suckers, and I found that it didn't make much difference, one way or another. I came just as good whether it was with a man or a woman's tongue in my snatch. One big bitch used a dildo on me, and although it wasn't quite as good as a real prick, I found that I could come all right with it.

Believe it or not, I was making out like crazy in that joint. When I got out, the judge had found a foster home for me, and I stayed there for almost five months. It was a preacher and his wife, and they treated me good, but there were plenty of other wolves that knew what kind of girls lived at his place, and they were always after me and the other four girls.

I was 13, then, but I looked 17 or 18, and I knew every trick in the book about sex. We had a lot of freedom, but I wasn't happy. I didn't do good in school, except for art and sewing-things like that.

This one man teacher-he was white-kept making me stay after school to teach me better reading ways. He was about 40,I guess, and he was extra nice to me. Then, one afternoon, he locked the door to the classroom and made his big pitch: I knew it was coming, because he was always brushing his hands against my ass and cunt, or feeling my breasts in a sneaky way. I'd never had a white man, and I guess I wondered what it would be like. I played right up to him, and he laid me right on the floor. He was crude, like all the rest, grinning like crazy and saying how he'd never had a "chocolate" baby. He surprised me when he went right to work, eating my snatch. I'd been without any sex for a long time, and I enjoyed it. I liked it even better when he worked around to a sixty-nine position, so I could blow his dick while he was sucking my cunt.

He used a rubber when he fucked me, and before I went home, he had arranged to have a sex session a couple of times a week. He was a bachelor, and we never did it in school after that. We used his car, or his apartment. Funny, but nobody ever caught on, and in a few weeks, they let me go home to my family. Things were even worse for them, without Hal's few bucks, and I quit school and got a work permit and went to work in a garment factory.

I was only there a week, when I already had three guys who were paying me five dollars a throw for fucking and sucking. Finally, I just quit the job, got a room, and went straight prostitute. I made out good from the beginning. I never made less than a hundred a week and I used to sneak at least thirty-five of that to my family.

I know now that all this jazz about "reforming" a girl or a boy that has gone bad, often through no fault of their own, like in my case-it's a lot of horseshit. From the first, everybody knew what I was. Nobody ever treated me as if I could ever change-but worse, nobody ever even thought that I might want something else in life besides fucking and sucking.

When I was 18, I married this fellow. He was white-and in a week, he was selling me all over town, beating the hell out of me, and grabbing all the dough for himself. I cut out. I never did get a divorce, but it doesn't matter: I'd never marry anyone again, white or black. I do all right on my own. I'm a whore, that's all. I take the "busts" from the cops, pay my fines, do my time, and move around.

I've stopped kidding myself. That's all I'll ever be. I'm not going to wind up in some gutter, though, or have to suck some guy's cock for food money, when I'm older. I put money away every week-at least fifty, and one of these days, I'll just cut out for some town where nobody ever heard of me, and I'll open a little shop of some kind. Then I'll tell the whole, lousy world to take a flying fuck for themselves!

Lucy, of her own accord, sees a vague "retirement" to a little shop of some kind. She fails to realize that she is not equipped to engage in any business, because of her lack of education. Chances are that if she does make her "dream" come true, some person will con her out of every nickel she has; then, Lucy will automatically resort to her former trade.

Although somewhat typical of prostitutes from minority and poverty groups, Lucy is highly different from the average prostitute in that she was forced into this way of life. Most prostitutes and calls girls become what they are by choice, in spite of the many sob stories which some still use on the sucker trade.

Lucy has had herself rendered incapable of having children; thus, she eliminates a major chance to find a measure of happiness through possible marriage and motherhood. It would be nice to be able to end this account happily, by saying that Lucy is on her way to attaining her wished for goal; but statistics are too heavily against this girl. The patterns are too ingrained; the cards stacked too much against her. Lucy will probably always be what she is: a cheap, hopelessly entangled whore, whose roots were founded in incest.

In cases of multiple family incest, many quickly jump to conclusions as to the relative morality of certain minority groups. Some of the most scholarly comparisons, however, have been made in recent years by those who engage in the study of the various cultures of mankind. Overcrowding, poverty, lack of educational and recreational opportunities surely do contribute to the incidence of incest; however, psychiatric and medical records show, more and more, that incestuous relations spring from much deeper causes that are buried within the structure of the human being.

Freud, although he has many detractors and refuters, must have been close to the truths, in his Oedipus and other parent-related complexes. As one proof, we offer the story of 14-year-old Janet and her brother, Reg. They are from a wealthy family; the father is head of a large manufacturing corporation, with an income of more than one hundred thousand dollars a year. They want for nothing. In fact, according to their own testimony, they had a surfeit of material things, and ultimately became victims of a constantly-rising disease in today's America: boredom.

I knew Mom and Dad were in this swinging, wife-swapping, sex-orgy bunch, almost from the beginning. Reg, my brother, knew it too. I'd had sex a couple of times, and I know Reg was having his regular ass from the girls he ran with. Why not? He has his own car, plenty of money, he's good at sports and-neither of our parents laid down any rules about anything-so long as we stayed out of trouble with the law.

So, I barged in on this swinging affair this night at our house. I was supposed to be at the movies, then stay at a girl friend's house all night. I had my own key and came in the back way. It was like a dirty book: men sucking other men's pricks; women going down on each other; daisy chains-like, way-out. Maybe it should have made me sick to my stomach, but instead, I thought what the hell, I might as well have some fun too. I went to my room, stripped to the skin and went downstairs.

The first one to spot me was this guy who was my dad's right-hand man. He's married, got five kids and a real sharp wife, but he'd let me know a couple of times that he'd like to get into me. The only thing that stopped him was fear of my father. But he saw me, and he got up off a fat, homely old dame who was giving him a blow job, and he grabbed me. He was a little drunk, but not too. He just flopped me on the floor and spread my legs, kneeling down between them. Then he shouted out: "Anyone who would stick a cock into this would be prosecuted for breaking the pure food act!"