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From: cobillard@hotmail.com (Carol)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 9 Sep 2002 18:47:56 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} On virginity
Date: Mon,  9 Sep 2002 16:10:02 -0400
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"American girls are preoccupied with having the perfect skin, are
involved with body projects (such as body piercing) and this modern
age is also marked with the disappearance of virginity. Adolescent
girls in the Victorian era, were sexually repressed, wore corsets,
recognizing that virginity as the highest value in womanhood."

-- Janice Young, reviewing "The Body Project: An Intimate History of
American Girls", by Joan Jacobs Brumberg on Amazon.com


Virginity is a relative quality. There are those who say it can be
recaptured after its loss.
<http://www.nytimes.com/2002/08/04/fashion/04VIRG.html> 
Purists and many physicians -- but emphatically not many philosophers
or theologians would say it is measured by the presence of an unbroken
hymen. But that could be lost in infancy, for any number of innocent
reasons. Modern woman, myself included, would argue that the whole
argument is irrelevant and that virginity is best disposed of without
sentiment, so that a girl can get on with her life. Progressive
religious movements are not inconsistent with this; it is the desire
for certainty of ancient writ that drives some to look for concrete
measures and then to impose those measures on an unwilling population
by way of control. Shame becomes a tool of control. Of course, as we
all know, such measures are hypocritical claptrap and those who wield
the control feel free to engage in whatever fornication and
pornography suits them, in the fond expectation they will not be found
out. Occasionally they are, and they become contrite.

Much of Islam (excepting only the moderated Islam of Africa and part
of Southeast Asia and Europe and America) enslaves its women this way:
at worst with female genital mutilation; sometimes with the public
bloodletting of the Night of Defloration.
<http://www.renebooks.com/TragedyOfIslamicWomenExcerpt.htm>

Mom and I lived in two different homes run along lines that were a
philosophical amalgam of the commands set out in those thousands of
"Mo Letters" that Moses David (David Berg) had used to rule his
Children of God ("The Family"), and the practices of the rule-free 60s
hippie communes that were, in fact, precursors of Berg's church, and
to which some disaffected members returned when they left the COG.
(Others inevitably returned to mainstream America and the middle class
that they had left.) After years of flirty fishing, Mom and her
friends became committed to using sex for their pleasure and not for
the profit of any organization. They thought -- like some of those
early communes and in fact like Moses David at various times -- that
marriage was obsolete and that public expression of affection, indeed
sex performed in public within the commune, was the highest expression
and demonstration of love, and a source of pleasure for oneself and of
comparison and instruction for others, including children. As for
Berg, he was irrelevant to us. Anyway, his philosophies were wildly
inconsistent over time, especially his philosophies of sex (he fled
Tenerife in March 1977 under a cloud after accusations of pedophilia
were levied against him in Germany and elsewhere) and of diplomacy (he
was virulently anti-Zionist after being kicked out of Israel, and that
despite the fact that his sect had attracted significant numbers of
Jews).

With us, there were no inhibitions and there was no embarrassment
regarding the physical need and emotional desire for sex. The only
constraint was voluntariness and, with respect to minors, equality of
age. Neither incest nor coercion was tolerated. That said, Mom would
proudly and with a smile display to us the penis fresh from
ejaculating in her mouth or in her vagina, delighted to prove how much
it had been a source of pleasure for her and for her partner. By the
time I was 12 I had tried out what I had seen adults and teens doing
for years; I got rid of my virginity without hesitation and without
drama, almost as an afterthought and in the accident of a tumble. The
boy tripped and we both fell, he on top of me; he looked me in the
eyes, I smiled, and before I knew it his penis was in my vagina and I
was glad.

More dramatic was the defloration of the Big Breasted Girl at our
dance party. She had watched The 16-Year-Old Boy and I in our 69
gymnastics and knew it was time for her and for her partner. His
gorgeous penis was insider her in a beautiful expression of mutual
adolescent love. He spent many minutes preparing her vagina for the
event, kissing and licking her vulva, inner labia, clitoris and
vaginal opening. By the time she told him she was ready her vagina was
dilated and very moist. Her hymen proved scarcely an obstacle.

The regret and the emotional turmoil that some complain of in the wake
of their first sex is almost always due to ignorance, surprise and
pressure from the boy. Knowledge on the part of the girl equates to
power and control. I have always thought that the girl should reject
the convention of waiting for, indeed of allowing, the boy to take the
lead. If sex is her currency, she should use it wisely, expediently,
purposefully. Virginity is just a minor impediment in the way of her
asserting herself; she needs to know how to dispose of it painlessly
and expeditiously so that she can get on with her life, and her loves.
Virginity was scarcely a word we knew at home, except in the
mechanical sense. It carried no physical, spiritual or emotional value
whatsoever. Not all girls were oriented, as I was and am, towards oral
sex; "virginity" is particularly irrelevant in that sense.

But of course that's my view with respect to my own virginity. But for
other girls it may be different. It is human nature to want to look at
the nude bodies of others and to be interested in their beauty and
their beautiful activities. Like the magnificence of puberty, the
magnificence of first sex experience captures and captivates our
imagination. While my rite of passage was incidental and almost
accidental, that of other girls, like that of the Big Breasted Girl,
may be the result of deliberate decision and exquisite plan. Then, it
is lovely to behold, and this is why in my memoir I described that
pulsating penis ready to enter her as "gorgeous". She had been brought
to desire by watching The 16-Year-Old Boy and me and had seen the
beauty of his vibrant penis ejaculating into my mouth and the way I
had taken his semen as a liquid of love. Her boy had made her ready
with is mouth at her vagina, tenderly and solicitously. Because her
first sex was so good, her sex life would have a positive foundation.

Even in our environment some couples may, by reason of fear of failure
or inadequacy have preferred privacy; but more usually if there were
no witnesses to sex in our crowded house it would be purely by
happenstance that nobody was there when arousal and affection
coincided with a young couple's realization that they were ready.
Girls and boys in our community talked openly of sex and had infinite
opportunity to observe, even to touch and to feel. Even the youngest
girl was unlikely to be surprised by the qualities of orgasm,
ejaculation and flowing semen. She would have learned early of these
as bodily functions, body products and common love. As a small child I
had loved to see my Mom smiling and ecstatic, and I knew that this was
something I too would be able to share with another. She had always
told me that I would know when my time had come, and so I did.

It happens that I did not witness a great number of deflorations,
although it is possible that some occurred in my presence but were not
advertised as such. In part this was because over the past few years a
number of the children living in Mom's Friend's house moved away, and
new families did not replace them. While Mom's Friend had many
short-term visitors, mostly friends of hers from years before, they
usually stayed only a few weeks at most. Virtually all shared our
lifestyle; only a few, though also former Children of God members, had
a more reticent approach to sex. Men would typically be happy to join
in if there happened to be a willing and unattached girl. For girls
the demand for romance and passion generally meant that an affair
would be preceded by some considerable period of flirtation. On the
other hand, in good weather a number of us would likely be sunning
ourselves nude in our secluded backyard: without the usual
nudist-colony "look but don't touch" protocol, fun could happen. The
16-Year-Old Boy and I liked to tease and arouse a prospective couple
the way we had the Big Breasted Girl and her partner at the nude
dancing party. Often this would have the same results. We really had
an elegant protocol for mutual oral sex, and I can be quite
provocative with my boy's penis in my mouth and his tongue in my
vagina. I have a lovely figure and a lovely vagina, and while he is
making me happy I will be performing a dance with my tongue and lips
on the end of his penis. When he ejaculates, his semen will flow
freely through my mouth. If I'm on top, just enough will stream down
his penis and his scrotum and the sparkle in my eye, and my smile,
will testify to my love and my pleasure. Few can resist the invitation
to do likewise to their partner. I have seen otherwise hesitant girls
and boys determine have their first oral sex after watching me and
seeing how good it can be, and how it can improve the vaginal sex
experience too. Particularly for the girl, the chance for orgasm is
infinitely improved.

Most memorable of the first-time sex experiences that I saw and had
reason to appreciate -- because I so loved the girl -- was that of the
Terrific Girl on the chaise longue at the swimming pool party. It was
because I so loved her and wanted only the best for her that the Older
Girl and I arranged things so that she would be at ease, and her boy
primed to be solicitous and respectful as well as loving. I always
pressed boys to prepare a girl with his mouth and his tongue, to bring
her close to climax so that his penis in her vagina would be just the
final act, the crescendo of a magnificent event. By the time the girl
would be ready for him, he would be in a state of high excitement. But
regardless of that boy's prior sexual experience, if I had got to
speak to him he would know that this day belonged to his girl and that
she deserved utmost consideration. A girl does not like brutal sex,
whether relating to penis in vagina or mouth on vagina. There is no
shortage of Internet guidance on this.
<http://www.sexuality.org/l/sex/cunnfaq.html>

The issue often arises as to an appropriate minimum age for fist sex.
It is impossible to answer that question. In our environment, most
girls and boys wanted to start their sex lives at puberty. In
mainstream life it is wildly improbable that any significant number
would be ready at that age, or that an appropriate partner would be at
hand. I strongly support the policy of the houses I grew up in that
there should be approximate equality of age of young persons having
sex, to minimize chance of coercion or taking undue advantage; and
because it is just more appropriate that kids of the same maturity
should be so intimately connected. It happens that nobody living in
our community was gay, but that likely is a matter of self-selection,
isn't it. Mom's Friend certainly had gay friends, and they were never
embarrassed in our presence; but they were just visitors.

As in ordinary mixed society, just as in schools and on the school
bus, there was an occasional unwanted approach by a boy to a girl.
Yet, perhaps surprisingly since we were often together nude, crude
solicitation and pressure by boys was rare. The very openness of our
extended family, and the exposure to sex in action, brought with them
responsibility, and even chivalry. I have written that I loved --
indeed I still love -- to attract and arouse boys and men; indeed I
don't mind seeing a boy's penis respond to my presence. Until I was
about 15, I enjoyed casual sex with pubescent boys; since then, and
after my year and a half going with The 16-Year-Old Boy and having as
much oral sex as we could want over that time, I am far more
discriminating. I am happy for a man to see me nude, but he will not
get his penis very close to me, and far less is he likely to get it
inside of me, unless he has qualities of personality and character and
intellect that justify the occasion. If I am going to savor his DNA I
want those genes I am consuming to be of high quality. I am not
writing here about boys' first sex: I have written of the most
memorable occasions in which I was the cause of that: the two
eleven-year olds, one while watching television with his dad, the
other in the bathroom after I opened the door and found him in
half-erection. In those days to be the first girl to have her mouth on
his penis, to have his semen stream into me and to swallow it and to
show a boy how happy it made me to initiate him into the world of
girls and sex, was a glorious mission. Today, sex has taken its place
as just one of many important features of being alive. Just as The
16-Year-Old Boy, when I met him not long ago aged 24 and now an air
conditioning salesman, proved to be a bore, there is always a risk of
incompatibility over time. That's why couples break up, and it's all
part of the dance of life (or, as Anthony Powell called it, A Dance to
the Music of Time).

There were, however, a few special occasions. Of course I never
discussed my family background and protocol of life all the years I
was in school. Like any kid, I knew instinctively what was private and
secret and what was to be our public face. People may have known or
suspected that our quasi-hippie culture was alien to theirs, but as we
weren't into drugs and all the kids were healthy and active,
officialdom was kept at bay. One in college I was exposed to a wider
group, and among my friends some knew. One of my friends, a happy
girl, 17 and never kissed, came over to visit and so of course I had
to tell her there was nudity about. She didn't seem to mind. From our
conversations I had convinced her, without trying, and indeed while
consciously trying not to influence her, that virginity was a pest and
not a friend. Older Girl arranged a little party. And she had a good
suggestion, which suited both Happy Girl and me: we'd have a nude
party, but no sex, at least on the first date. Actually that was easy
to contrive; we saw to it that there were little kids around, and so
the party wound up a naturist party with the naturist "don't touch"
protocol. I could see that our boys, without the naturist experience,
were having trouble avoiding arousal; there penises were in constant
movement and they would hide them behind a chair or a table at an
embarrassing moment. But my smile should have told them that they
should not be embarrassed on my account; indeed at the prospect of an
erection attached to my favored boy I would throw back my shoulders,
raising my breasts to attention, and perhaps stroke my vulva
absent-mindedly. We had a nice evening, and must have excited our boys
enough so that they asked us out together. We went to a film and we,
in turn, liked them enough to bring them back to my place. Happy Girl
had a week to decide for herself that this was the time for her to
lose her virginity. At 17 she certainly was plenty old enough. And
there we were, having had a nice dinner and a film, in our back garden
on a warm autumn evening. Nude.

Happy Girl looked so pretty sitting back in her chaise longue, a glass
of wine in hand. Her boy must have known that a good time was likely.
But my boy moved first, perhaps because, sitting next to him, I
absent-mindedly stroked his back, and smiled positively as his hand
touched my breast as if by chance, and then caressed them more
purposefully. We kissed. The caressing continued and became foreplay.
His hands were at my labia and my clitoris. But I was not going to
allow him to penetrate with his penis until he had first prepared me
fully. I wanted him to kiss and lick me, to excite me, to make me
ready. Was he going to do that in the presence of the others? He would
have to, and it is a matter of my body language telling him that fact.
If the boy is not sensitive to my nonvocal speech he is not going to
get far with me. My boy deciphered the signals. He kissed my vagina
passionately; he ran his tongue around inside. I stroked his scalp and
sighed. I was feeling good and would not let him stop until I was
ready for him to proceed. I led him over to the grass, and he
continued; but now I moved around and grasped his penis and caressed
it, and then I began to kiss and suck it. We were side by side, his
head to my vulva and my mouth on his penis. It was a bit uncomfortable
and strained, but now I was ready for his penis to enter my vagina.

Meanwhile, Happy Girl was watching, and as she watched, her boy kissed
her and she stroked his penis, stiff and erect as it could be. Then
she would cradle his testicles with her hand, caress his inner thighs,
and return to his penis. He looked at her quizzically and her glance
was positive. They arose and hand in hand walked over near where we
were and lay on the grass. She attended to his penis, looked at it
closely, gave it a quick kiss. As I had suggested to her, she guided
his head to her crotch. But now my boy and I were ready for our
d�nouement. I smiled at him, and allowed him to mount me. I grasped
his penis to guide it and he lowered it and entered me. I felt
heavenly, part of a unit, complete. He moved at a varying pace: that
would prolong the pleasure. From the corner of my eye I could see
Happy Girl still had her boy's penis in her mouth. And then she cried
out as he ejaculated and the spurting semen surprised her. Indeed, as
I well know, unless a girl is attuned to subtle signals from the boy
she may bring him to orgasm suddenly and before she's ready to receive
his semen. Of course not every girl likes, as I do, to hold her boy's
semen in her mouth, swirl it with her tongue and then swallow it. I
enjoy that because I learned at so young an age how much pleasure it
brings to us both and after all I was only 11 when I developed my love
for the penis as object, as art, and as functional organ. To fondle my
lover's penis and to make it respond to me is such a great pleasure,
and to watch or to fell it ejaculate at my command is my love.

My boy stopped momentarily as we looked over. Happy Girl seemed to
have swallowed some of her boy's semen. The rest of the semen was
pouring out of her mouth, down her boy's penis and onto the grass. She
coughed; some semen must have gone down her windpipe. But it appears
that her plans had gone slightly awry: she would have to wait a few
minutes for her boy's penis to return to erection and to enter her
vagina. My boy and I resumed. The rhythm of his penis in and out felt
so good; the brief event between Happy Girl and her boy scarcely
distracted us from our passion. I reached down and stroked my boy's
scrotum, then put my hands on his buttocks to follow and encourage his
movement. I looked him in the eyes, moved my lips to his and we
kissed; and he ejaculated streams of semen into me. I did not have an
orgasm but I felt super. I wanted to talk to Happy Girl and see to it,
if I could, that her evening did not disappoint her.

She had regained her composure and I smiled and told her she had done
well. I whispered in her ear that she should have her boy kiss and
suck her vagina as she had his penis. It was her prerogative, her
right, after the pleasure she had afforded him. Happy Girl spread her
legs and by putting her hand on her boy's neck signaled what she
wanted. He was willing. Indeed, after a few minutes I saw that as he
licked her pink parts his penis had once more become fully erect and
vibrant. It glowed from its coating of semen. He continued with his
face between her legs; her sighs increased in volume; she let out a
shriek. I never make loud noise when I climax but some girls do, and
Happy Girl did. Her boy sensed that he might now have another orgasm,
and he mounted her. It would be her first time; did he know that?
Perhaps not, but I had told her how to signal him to slow him down if
she felt apprehensive. However, she was very, very wet and very
excited. His penis penetrated her, stopped imperceptibly at the
barrier and continued until it was fully inside. She cried out weakly,
a little differently this time; she said later that she'd felt some
pain, but that her happiness from before was so great that it didn't
matter. Her boy continued until he'd had enough. It was not obvious
whether he ejaculated once more or not, and it didn't matter. Happy
Girl was satisfied, and this was her day. The issue of her "lost"
virginity was irrelevant. Perhaps it means more at 17 than at 11 or
12, but in today's society it does not mean much either way. The point
is to get started on life. Happy Girl was doing that, at a time that
she felt was right for her. If it was right for her, all is surely
right with the world as far as she is concerned. One should try to
have a minimum of regret, and lost opportunity is ancient history, so
forget it.

I have written that there has been a partial convergence of the sexual
protocol and morality of the environment in which I grew up and the
outside world. As the opening quotation suggests, this is true of our
view of virginity. To the extent that we are ahead of society in
general, it is in the irrelevance we attach to it rather than the
relativity we assign it. One may thus query at which point Happy Girl
"ceased to be a virgin". Was it when she took her boy's penis in her
mouth? When his tongue entered her vagina? When his penis penetrated?
When her hymen gave way? In typically discriminatory fashion, the
language does not allow for the relevance of her having or not having
an orgasm. Another area in which societal mores are catching up to
ours is in the abandonment of inhibitions. At the same time that the
law is concerning itself with how children are exposed to sex --
something it could never have done in the true Victorian age because
of family overcrowding -- the 60s are making themselves felt in the
willingness of adolescents and the young to show off their affection,
their passion, their bodies and their sexual relations and
relationships. I am feeling the effects of this social transformation
and the confluence ("approximation", in International English) of 60s
commune and modern-day mainstream ethos as I start my new life in the
Capital City. My life is still partitioned, but I am finding that,
like me, everybody else here as a secret past and a secret life. It is
the substance and not the existence of that past and that life that is
secret.

On the relativity of virginity, it interesting that the otherwise
positive emphasis on oral sex is accompanied by a consensus that oral
sex does not, in fact, deflower: only penis in vagina ends a girl's
virginity. With that belief so widely shared and with oral sex an
accepted activity among a large proportion of young adolescents, my
world has indeed encompassed the mainstream. Even my lack of
picture-book nuclear family is mirrored in the commonality, banality
even, of single parenthood and the abandonment in law and in language
of the concept of illegitimacy.


Love,
Carol


[ERRATUM: I have been chastised by a reader for mis-attributing the
opening quotation in my memoir of September 2, "On Puberty". It was
Harry McAfee, the father of Kim, a Conrad Birdie fan, who remarked "I
didn't know what puberty was till I was almost past it", and not
Albert Peterson, Birdie's agent.]
<http://bms.westport.k12.ct.us/mccormick/cast%20of%20characters.htm>

A PERSONAL NOTE: For those following my personal journey, there is a
scholarly article that discusses at some length the move to sexual
extremism to the extent of abuse that caused Mom, Mom's Friend, and
many others to leave the COG: Robert McFarland, "The Children of God,
Journal of Psychohistory 21 (4) Spring 1994,
<http://www.vote.org/ramsey/cults.htm>
The dissidents refused to countenance abuse, bullying,
intergenerational sex, incest or nonconsensual sex. Those principles
and the unwaivable rights they represent, remain part of my credo.
Young people are entitled to explore and to experiment and to
experience sexual joy, but only on their own terms and at their own
initiative. This series of memoirs is testimony to that credo.

Since writing these memoirs, I have read Miriam Williams's
autobiographical memoir of her 15 years in the COG, "Heaven's Harlots"
(Eagle Brook 1999). Her observations of the COG are largely consistent
with mine, although far more authoritative since I experienced only
the aftermath of COG membership, and all of what I learned was from
disaffected former members. Miriam's perspective of allowing children
to observe adult sex, and to play their own sex games, is highly
negative (p. 221) and the risk of her children being exposed to
exhibitionists and pedophiles within the COG leadership caused her to
quit the cult (pp. 232-235). Her remarks on oral sex are consistent
with mine, as is her hostility to other, kinkier, kinds (p. 110). She
writes extensively of wife sharing (beginning on p. 77) and nakedness
(p. 145). I commend her book to you.

Miriam's experiences were far different from mine, but they are
reasonably consistent with what I have heard from Mom, Mom's Friend
and other ex-COG members. Her book is very unsettling, and in the
light of it (and in the view of increasing job and social pressures
here in the Capital City) this is probably the last memoir I shall
write.

God bless you all.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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