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From: Carol <cobillard@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} What I did on my vacation
Date: Thu,  3 Apr 2003 05:10:04 -0500
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With ticket prices to Europe so cheap ($200 round trip) I thought I would
take a week's vacation in Europe where, by reputation at least, people are
tolerant and young people are encouraged to be romantic and sexy. Together
with My Friend I booked a week in Spain ($300) with Club 18-30, a British
travel company. This is not a commercial for them; it just happens that they
advertise a sexy ambiance and a youthful clientele, and were cheap.
http://www.club18-30.co.uk
We went to the Costa Blanca
http://www.costablanca.org/eng/index.asp
http://www.costablanca-news.com

Things were not to turn out as expected, and the story is kind of fun so I
thought I would post it, along with some reminiscences from my past. Those
who are here only for the sex can fast forward over the next paragraphs,
although I warn you that titillation is not the intent of these essays:
rather it's a sociological and autobiographical study. I had not intended to
write another memoir in addition to the ten or so I drafted last year based
on my childhood diaries, and the two I edited based on the testimony of
others (a religious commune and an abusive Latin American orphanage,
respectively). Now that I am an adult, re-reading the Spanish experience
that follows turns out to be little different from what you can find in any
woman's magazine, or even a travel magazine. But, for what it is worth, and
to prove my early life didn't wreck my psyche or destroy my capacity for
relationships, here's what happened to me on my recent vacation.

The tour I signed up for was one of those offered by a budget UK tour
operator that specializes in package tours for young Brits, with a
sexually-liberated theme. I did expect some culture clash, but there was
more than I bargained for. I couldn't have understood the British class
system beforehand: what do I know except what I read in novels. I didn't
expect to talk about baseball or American football, but neither did I expect
to encounter obsession with English football (footie) to the point of
violence: soccer hooliganism. As I was to discover, 18-30 attracts the
working class (because it's cheap), and the working class supports Fulham or
Manchester United or one of a limited number of other teams, but not Chelsea
or Arsenal, which are supported by higher-class fans. Arsenal is the team
that the Jews of North London support (and never mind that so many of its
players are French and none are Jewish). Manchester United is supported by
Arabs, and I mean the Arabs of Arabia, not just the Muslims of England (who
mostly come from India, Pakistan and Bangladesh). It is, in fact, the
favorite team of Iraqis. Even now. Fulham (the football team, not the London
borough) is owned by Mohammed al-Fayed, who also owns Harrod's department
store and the Ritz Hotel in Paris (which Diana Spencer left, in company with
Fayed's son Dodi, on her fateful last car ride). Fayed has a sexy(?) Finnish
wife with whom he has four kids ("from the second bed", as the Europeans
say). 
http://www.guardianlies.com/Section%206/page25.html
All of this I learned in Benidorm and confirmed on-line later at home. I
also learned that Fayed is leaving England for Switzerland. I guess he
intends to be a tax exile, like Marc Rich but only legally, and he probably
won't be making high jinx with Ali G anymore.

The Iraqis don't support al-Fayed's team, they support Manchester United
(and not Manchester City, another team, and I don't know who supports them).
Which leads me to say that my personal concern in this war is the fate of
all those nice American, British and Australian soldiers in Iraq. In the
Battle of the Somme, in 1916, before the USA entered that war, there were
600,000 British and French deaths; 600,000 women who would never, or never
again, have sex; millions of babies who would never be born and never have
babies of their own. Repeated in World War II, the ensuing labor shortage
would lead to immigration and, inevitably, to pluralism in Europe -- things
which have their own interesting implications for sex. But that's another
story. Colonialist inclusion was OK as long as the proteges -- not citizens
-- stayed at home. I did a college paper once on the implications of
"intimate relations", marriage and pseudo-marriage, between European
settlers and administrators and African natives in colonial times. I was
also interested in how Europe adapted to polygamy in the colonies (and
America had that to contend with too in Mindanao, Philippines). There were
two interesting law cases I remember: Cousin de Lavaliere (France, 1933) and
Bethell (England, 1888) in which the courts of the mother country denied
inheritance rights to the offspring of mixed marriages that had been
celebrated according to local custom and that Europeans deemed "scandalous"
and the offspring "illegitimate". Only one of those two marriages (I forget
which) was polygamous, the European having married a pair of African
sisters. I concluded that it wasn't so much that the Europeans thought that
the whites' sex with natives was disgusting (although of course there was a
myth that natives did things that Europeans wouldn't and that the natives
had bigger and better sex parts) but that the whites' relatives were making
a property grab. Hey, in Spain everybody insists that property (i.e., oil)
is the reason for the US's venture in Iraq too, but what do I know. Until
this trip, my understanding of culture shock was based on having watched the
movie "Canadian Bacon". The sort of guerilla warfare we are destined to
fight in Iraq leads to moral and tactical confusion. And possibly, but one
hopes not, huge losses of life among our military. Some of it by "friendly"
fire.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/Iraq/Story/0,2763,926237,00.html
Think Somalia. And hey, wasn't the top warlord of Somalia, Hussein Aideed
(son of the late Mohamed Farah Aideed) formerly an American GI (yes he was,
and the crazy US Army assigned him to be a translator for the US
peacekeeping force in Somalia ... until they found out who he was). I happen
to like the US military; I just don't think very much of those who run it.
Catch 22 is too real for some friends of mine.

My Mom's experience with politicians (she was, readers may recall, assigned
by the Children of God's Moses David to engage in flirty fishing among the
Washington elite, and that was how I was conceived) leads me to accept very
little of what politicians say as either truthful or in the public interest.
This is even more so with respect to their ministerial and sub-ministerial
appointments. I am especially cynical about the new oligarchy (or is it
aristocracy) growing in America: super-rich CEOs earning hundreds of
millions of dollars with the connivance of those who run our pension systems
and our mutual funds, and, of course, the politicians and ex-politicians who
(with their wives) get to share in the bounty. And never mind whether they
actually made any money for their companies or whether they cooked the
accounts and their company went bankrupt.

The British public is more realistic about the facts of the present war than
the US public, which, it seems, has been largely misled by slogan and
jargon. OK, that happens in all wars, but I'm not sure Washington is
leveling with us; and I think the taxpayers are going to be paying for this
war for decades. Well, if they are cutting taxes, then it may not be the
taxpayers directly, but those on fixed incomes as the currency depreciates.
(Econ 101: prices rise; and currency depreciates proportionately to
increased money supply, unless interest rates skyrocket -- which they
probably will.) And as for democracy in Iraq, well when Algeria had a free
vote, the FIS (Islamic extremists) won, or would have won except that the
Army moved in. Iran is a democratic theocracy. And even if he hadn't
cheated, Hitler would probably have won a free vote in Weimar Germany. An
American-Jordanian girl I knew was all but stoned for the views of courtship
and sex that she brought with her from America when she visited Amman. So
I'm not exactly sure that those who make these decisions know what they are
talking about when they anticipate bringing democracy to Iraq they way they
did to Japan and Germany. But enough said about politics.

Now for the main part of my vacation story. I thought that Club 18-30 would
put us in a group of eager and fun-loving, uninhibited people like
ourselves, plunked down on a beach in Spain. The truth was somewhat less
than that. The British notion of vacation nightlife is, indeed, to get stone
drunk on beer or cheap wine, and then to engage in indiscriminate sex. There
was a long-runing play, "No Sex Please, We're British" that is put to the
lie by British antics in Spain. But do they have style? I am reminded of the
(I think it was) feminist New York writer who went out West to seek out
cowboys to have sex with, only to be disappointed that after she had given
them blow jobs they uniformly refused to go down on her, supposing that
cunnilingus was only for gays and lesbians. Well statistics and logic are
against them. If cunnilingus is more common than fellatio (as the experts
say) it is by my reckoning because it's the best way to arouse and satisfy a
woman who -- like more than half of all women -- does not easily reach
climax though vaginal sex. That's a physiological thing, and no reflection
on anybody. Of course, having reached climax the woman is eager for her
partner's penis to ejaculate inside her and, perhaps, impregnate her. If she
has any substantial relationship with that partner. That circumstance skews
the statistics even more.

To get back to my theme: there was the Nude Beach and the Prude Beach. The
nude beach is not to be confused with a nudist beach: rather it is a
libertine beach where open sexuality is encouraged (it brings the tourists),
and the occasional visible sex act tolerated. Especially after dark.
http://archive.salon.com/health/sex/urge//world/2000/05/01/spain

And in America I was told by some authorities outside my immediate household
and circle of friends, that away from home(!) physical display of affection
is inappropriate. Well, I never believed that anyway. I never minded if
people thought they could detect I was having sex with a particular
boyfriend, just from the way we comported ourselves. Not sluttily, but
simply affectionately. Here in Spain most of the women and girls, at least
those from somewhere else, were topless, and many were bottomless as well.
Anyone who didn't like that could stay on the family beaches; in fact there
were families (Germans?, Danes?) here too, as naked as they cared to be.
What I thought was interesting was that there seemed to be more "bottomless"
boys than girls sauntering about. Sort of challenging the girls, really, and
I imagined I could tell which girls were comfortable with the situation and
which were not. Indeed I thought I detected a bit of hidden embarrassment
among many of the boys, something that I never saw in our own environment
back in Our Town, where boys and girls had grown up naked together, looking,
touching, feeling, enjoying. A feminist once wrote that it was always the
most inadequate men who got undressed first. That's not true, and she was
just being mean. Although in fact a lot of those who propose nude dancing
are somewhat deficient in one way or another, it's not so much their sex
parts as their personality that's inadequate. Nudity should be spontaneous
and not forced; maybe not even vocally and specifically proposed. OK, when
kids came to our nude dances, they knew they would be taking off their
clothes eventually, but it wasn't by announcement. A couple would just get
that way, and others would follow. The vision of a couple in the nude,
dancing closely, aroused, inevitably destined to reach the stage where
neither could resist sex, is electrifying and sensuous.

I remember that Big-Breasted Girl, and how she came with her date to our
dance.
http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2002/38098
I never found out where she was from; she and her date must have been
somebody's guest and for all I know it was on a dare. But the two of them
never had sex before; perhaps they never had seen each other naked. They
were about 13 and committed to each other and to making love that night.
Yet, the nude dancing about them convinced them that they were right for
each other and, having watched others around them in deep lovemaking they
set about to be deflowered. They had stood next to me and the 16-Year-Old
Boy as I lay on top of him, my vagina at his mouth, his penis in my mouth as
we delighted in each other's, and our own, frenzy of orgasm. I remember
still that other, 13-year-old, boy's lovely young penis so stiff and eager,
and the girl with her legs spread wide, her vagina ready, very wet from her
boy's kissing and licking, and how the boy's penis hovered over her, and I
had to help a little, and it descended and filled her vagina, and how they
complemented and satisfied each other. It was as if her vagina had sucked in
his penis and held it tight. The event was like a marriage really, their
friends witnessing to their love, the boy's semen streaming out at the end
in testimony. It's so normal, something hundreds of millions of couples old
and young are doing every day. In Iran they have temporary marriage, and
anyone physically able can contract one; it's a lovely notion. On that day,
the Big-Breasted Girl seemed so radiant and happy afterwards. By the time
their lovemaking was complete, other girls were tense and eager, other boys
had erections. The boys could not keep their hands at rest, they would touch
their penis, stroke their balls, caress their girl's breasts, signal their
eagerness to make love. The watching made couples want to be as close as
possible to each other's sex parts, and that meant for most oral sex.
Couples, some for the second time, moved into positions where they could
touch, caress, lick and love their partner's genitals. Now, readers will be
aware of my conviction that virginity is an artificial, suppressive societal
invention to control and demean girls' and women. I do believe that girls
have a right to enjoy their first sex, without pain and with orgasm. And I
think the presence of family and friends is a delight. I had my first sex
almost by accident, in a playful and non-sexual bout with a boy when we just
fell together, his penis against my vulva, and somehow it entered me and we
made love. But when I thought about it, I wanted my first oral sex to be
more, and I wanted friends about me, and I wanted to make a statement, and
that's how it was, except that (unfortunately) I'd also tasted semen
following my first penis in vagina. But who was to know for sure, except
maybe the boy? Anyway, for the event in the basement Mom was around, and she
could take satisfaction in that. Still, my first sex does not comport the
image of what I would want for my own daughter. I would like her to have
time to reflect, to take a purposeful approach, to have her friends and me
about her. I would like her to explore the penis of the boy she has chosen,
for him to delight her vagina with his mouth, and then for her to give her
body to her lover, legs and arms spread out symbolically, her boy's penis
and then his semen rushing into her to make her complete. The Big-Breasted
Girl, eager to start her sex life, her vagina excited and ready, and her
lover excited and loving her, his gorgeous young smooth penis as stiff as
any I have ever seen, hovering over her vagina and ready to make love, is
the image I carry as the ideal. When I see that sight in my mind's eye, I
realize too why I love the circumcised penis so much, and why most other
women favor them too. It's a delicious irony that I because the boy missed
the target and caused her some pain at first, I had to help direct his penis
into her vagina. At the time I thought nothing of it, but now it makes me
smile; and of course I got to hold his penis and to see it along its
journey. 

The Big-Breasted Girl, as she accepted that penis for the first time, sighed
ever so lightly; like me she experienced virtually no pain. For a girl whose
hymen ruptures less easily and more painfully, having friends and family is
reassuring, comforting, enabling. I was not living there at the time, but
Older Girl said that this was her experience, and Mom's Friend, her mother,
was actually there to comfort and encourage and kiss. I know that boys and
girls are often brought together by their parents for sex, encouraged to end
(I won't say "lose", because I see no value in it) their virginity in an
approved, safe setting. This is one of the discreet subcultures of American,
and I suppose European, societies, and it is in fact lovely. I have never
had anything to do with official naturism, but I suspect that many of those
who enjoy it have another agenda too, at home, and that is wonderful,
assuming of course that it is free of incest, coercion and abuse. Boys and
girls will have seen each other grow through puberty and they can enjoy each
other's body not vicariously but really, physically and emotionally, with
parental guidance and protection. It really is lovely. The problem, such as
it is, will be in finding suitable partners. After all, kids arbitrarily
brought together are not necessarily compatible and there's little point in
encouraging sexual exploration between kids who won't get along well
otherwise. Such encounters are, of course, just blind dates like any other,
and a boy and girl can just as easily sit there embarrassed and with nothing
to say or do, as hit it off and admire each other's body and want romance
and sex. Worse still, the boy can be crude and the girl put off from sex for
some considerable time. This is one reason why it's better sometimes that
one of the kids not be a virgin, although it's touching when they are. It's
perhaps best that the boy should have references when he comes calling, that
he should be caring, loving, sensitive with his hands and with his lips and
with his penis. Sometimes a girl would say that she didn't mind too much if
she didn't come to know and like the boy in advance; after all,
statistically speaking they won't be together long anyway. If it was OK with
her, then they could just meet on the day and take off their clothes and
join the party. When they felt ready to for the event we would all know it.
The difference is that the girl would probably have been surrounded and
supported by a crowd of other girls instead of spending the pre-coital time
with her boy. Boys, after all, are ready all the time; when the girl was
ready her friends would bring the two together and make a fuss over them and
watch his penis get hard and sort of cheer her on, even tell her what to do,
if it was decided that they would try oral sex first. I have said many times
that girls are fascinated by erections and by the mechanics of the penis; it
is the coldness and hardness of pornography they do not like. What they want
to see and feel is the romance of arousal, and it is that romance that is a
turn-on. The physical acts and the demeanor of the couple are just evidence
of the invisible emotional process of love. A mother having sex in front of
her children is showing them the love and pleasure that accompanies it, and
certainly not trying to arouse that child in any sexual way or to exploit
him or her. A child having sex in front of her mother is reciprocating,
showing that she or he has accepted that loving lesson of years before, and
that she or he has total confidence in her counsel and her love. Either way,
a girl should see the fine, erect penis of her lover, perhaps with a drop of
liquid at its tip, as the ultimate in compliment; but she should also take
control of it. The sight can be overwhelming on a girl's first, preplanned,
sexual encounter, and often she will close her eyes although I have told her
not to. Sex is such a visual thing, not just tactile. She needs to be able
to anticipate that exact moment when the penis find its home; this is not
like a feared injection, but rather a lovely, pre-ordained and holy event.

Mom's Friend was, of course, the owner and guiding light of the place we
lived at after we left the houseboat. She had studied philosophy after
leaving the Children of God (or The Family, as it may already have been
called). She had a trust fund that was frozen during her years with the
Church. And she had her little girl, Older Girl. With her independence she
felt able to bring her up as she liked, and to rent space to other single
parents who had left the Church and who were like-minded. More so than under
Moses David and the other Church leaders, who were control freaks and
hypocrites, using women for their own selfish ends, Mom's Friend wanted
freedom of expression and freedom of exploration for "her" children, and
that's what we had. We could see her at sex, and we could see older children
at sex, and if we wanted, and could find a partner of our own age, we could
have sex in a nurturing environment. But the initiative had to come from us
to join in, to follow the example of those a few months or a year older than
we. This is more freedom than most parents would adopt; and it worked for us
only because we were a community of single parents and unrelated children,
so incest could not be a problem. I know of families where parents and older
children have sex without walls, and where, as in Mom's Friend's House, sex
is a family event. The sight of breasts performing their roles of promise
and arousal, the excitement of a penis growing hard in response, and the
anticipation of orgasm as the girl invites and receives the penis; then
finally general delight to see semen dripping and a sticky, wet beautiful
penis in relaxation is something we grew up with. All right, it was a
nuisance for a girl to be drippy, to have semen coming out of her vagina in
the daytime. But that is just another burden that all women have to bear.

My Mom had never hidden or closed the door when she made love; it would have
been claustrophobic for her. I could have watched, or I could have ignored
her. Afterwards I could have felt her lover's penis or her own wet vagina if
I had wanted. I knew it was normal and delightful and that my doing the same
thing depended only upon my growing up. I suspect all the mothers were
delighted to be seen at sex, and some probably waited until their and
others' children were around. After all, that was the philosophy of the
place: total openness about positive things. I know that afterwards couples
would walk about nude, the man's penis still sticky and wet, the woman
perhaps dripping a bit, the two of them smiling and showing off, perhaps
going to the kitchen for a drink and passing children on the way. This was
true even if the couple passed through parts of Mom's Friend's House where
residents and visitors were normally clothed. It had been about the same at
the first house Mom and I lived in after she left the COG although there was
generally more nudity in that place, and for a while I thought everybody
lived in that open and loving fashion. It was, we saw, a function of life
and a source of pleasure and love.

Mom's Friend built relationships with others, mostly also refugees from
religious communes with free sexual practices that had flourished in the
1960s. As a result we had partners to choose from beyond those who lived
with us and those who came to stay for short periods, including some women
with children escaping abusive relationships. I think that for boys
particularly the opportunity to see how girls and women function sexually
was an important contribution to healthy relationships later. The "cloaca
syndrome" of vagina as repellant could not exist at Mom's Friend's House,
where even the youngest boy knew what the inside of girls' labia looked and
felt like and knew where his penis was destined to go. Lots of times I
showed myself to curious boys, proud of my own femininity in doing that. The
demonstration was educational and non-sexual, and it would have been
received as such although, once I was 12 or so, it might be that an older
boy would take advantage of the opportunity to make an approach. Perhaps he
would succeed; I could be coquettish. Eventually, however, I was glad to
have the 16-Year-Old Boy around; we had a steady relationship for the brief
time he was there. We loved to be naked together in the garden or in the
basement, and there were times when we had sex twice a day. The reader may
remember how we showed off how we did it to those two little kids, and how
they asked us to do it again, and wanted to see what came out. Those kids,
of course, are now adolescents, and I mention them later on.

Dancing is a mating tease, and sex its inevitable culmination, which is why
nude dancing is so lovely to watch and to experience. But always there must
be mutual happiness and ecstasy. Or so we were taught. Of course, except for
those few of us who might have the freedom to replicate the atmosphere of
Mom's Friend's House, our future lives would be more discreet. (Will I be
able to raise sons and daughters so aware of their sexual potential?) But we
should have learned from the experience of our youth to love and be loved,
physically and romantically. I saw just a trace of this kind of thinking on
my vacation in Europe. Not communal sex, but public acknowledgement of
sexuality. Those two things are worlds apart. When sex was public it was
spontaneous and irrepressible, and that two is both delightful and
inspiring, not to exclude arousing.

Exposure to that kind of love and pleasure, and my continued awareness of
its potential are what have made me to want to be as close as I can be to my
boy's penis and to take it in my mouth and make him so happy. If I have
chosen right, he will want the same for me. The seconds before orgasm, when
both of you know that the most intense pleasure in the world is about to
happen, is the most sensitive, loving and delightful sharing of joy. Oral
sex allows one to concentrate on that moment, and for the girl to anticipate
the rush of semen, which is lovely because you can imagine the intensity of
the pleasure that delivers it to you.

In those days it gave me delight to look into the eyes of an innocent boy
sitting unclothed next to me, to slide my hand along his leg, towards his
thighs, to touch his pubescent penis, however big or small, and to make it
hard and to want me to do more. I could get away with this because --
illogically I think -- while most of the deflorations of our girls were
pre-planned events, boys just tended to take the opportunity as it came. I
could approach a boy who interested me, perhaps a visitor, or a guest at one
of the many backyard nude parties we had, and explore his genitals. I always
assumed that either the boy was from a likeminded family or that he had been
brought there -- as is so often the case -- by his parents in the fond hope
that he would have sex, if not on that occasion, then soon. Once his penis
was hard, I could run my fingers over its tip, or cup his balls with the
palm of my hand, and see his intense longing for me to continue. Even today
I have no hesitation in making the first move, in provoking desire, arousal,
erection and the desperate urge that makes a boy want to see me, all of me,
to feel me and then to have me, although now that I'm living in the Capital
City my standards are much, much stricter. Still, once a boy is my target I
may imagine things as they were then, pretend that I am making advance on an
adolescent, that I am barely into my teens myself. More than once, in those
years when a penis was a great curiosity to me, I would while seated near
one of the boys living or visiting with us, take his penis as if by
inspiration and bring him to ejaculation. I was always able to sense when a
boy desired me but that because he was inexperienced he would not express
himself. Fortunately at Mom's Friend's House there was always some pretext
to go outside, or downstairs, some reason for me to take off my top, and we
would throw ourselves together and make love. Or I might be inspired to act
out the role of the naughty seductress. There was the boy I saw in the
bathroom fondling himself and whose penis I kissed and loved and whom I
taught how to lie on top while we kissed and sucked each others genitals.
There was the boy I brought on the boat; I pulled down his pants and sucked
his penis to orgasm. And there was the boy watching television, his father
looking on from the corner of an eye, while I kissed and loved his son's
penis and semen dripped down onto his balls.
http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2002/37597
http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2002/38098

Those boys learned from me, earlier than they otherwise would have, the
potential of girl-love and girl-body. Other girls neither needed nor wanted
that role, but it amused me to do it and it hurt nobody. For the boys I
touched, breasts would take new meaning, as I saw almost immediately. And I
would be watched and loved. At such times, third parties could watch me or
not, I didn't care. Adults seemed satisfied that I was not being taken
advantage of, their only worry. They remembered their own youth, almost
certainly restrained and constricted. Seeing a stream of semen reminded
them, perhaps, of their own secret lives, secret gardens, magical sexual
learning. I have always supposed that a mother and a father's fondest desire
would be to watch their son at first romantic erection, their child at first
love and sex. If the essay by Jeremiah is accurate, then while the
artificiality and contrivance of a defloration ceremony is bizarre, the
appreciation of community for a girl or boy's first sexual communion at
least is understandable.
http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2002/40026

I don't know if I would have liked a Pops to inspect and appraise me, to
publicly undress me, to moisten my vagina with his tongue and have me
moisten his old and stiff penis with my mouth, and then cause a whole
congregation, in an act of prayer, to view that penis deflower me. This
violates at least two premises of Mom's Friend's doctrine: that there should
be no coercion and that there should be no inter-generational sex. It also
potentially violated the incest ban. But that adults and children are
present and they watch voluntarily is not an issue for me. But then Pops's
religious dogma was based on prayer as random sex within the congregation,
and a denial of family relationships. These notions I cannot envisage as
valid for the human condition. Anyway, as I said when I posted the essay, I
could be confident that such sects exist and that such events happen, but
Jeremiah never provided evidence to prove the specific truth of his story.

I wrote about the circumstances under which I first decided that
penis-in-mouth was such a lovely thing, and that I wanted to experience an
ejaculation that way, and I did it virtually by invitation in front of my
friends. The penis, to me, was at rest a sleeping, delightfully rounded
sculpture that I could bring it to life; in receiving pleasure it rewarded
me. Almost always I had an orgasm -- even more often than now that I am
grown and live alone, for now my sex is more formal, not with boys I have
grown up with and who have been trained to be solicitous. Sex and the power
of sex are much abused, mostly by men. Falsely taught, girls associate sex
with a fairyland of make believe, and lifelong sexual happiness becomes a
matter of luck. The girl who finds a kind and thoughtful boy should be, and
is, free to express herself with him, in public or in private. Aware of her
rights, assertive, she should have satisfaction within her grasp forever. In
short: the penis is a lovely and loving curiosity, and if girls are to be
free of lifelong hang-ups they should be able to act out their sex games
co-educationally. The rest of life will take its course. Arousal and orgasm
are tandem, magical elements of human existence.

If all of this is foreign to the upbringing of mainstream children (and from
correspondence I have had, it is not unique) I can only say it is a
reflection of serious child-raising philosophy as developed by Mom's Friend
and others who lived and loved among the Children of God. When I was growing
up as a teen it was Mom's Friend, who was trying to integrate what she
thought was right about Moses David's philosophy of introducing children to
each others' bodies early, in allowing children to be sensuous as soon as
they were physically ready and able. Others have accused Berg of ordering
that because he was a dirty old man and a pedophile.
http://www.excult.org/vital.html
Mom's Friend and Mom thought rather that the more outrageous claims against
him, if they were true, reflected later mental deterioration.

Mom's Friend regulated things and protected her charges by banning,
essentially, hypocrisy along with compulsion, and sexual activity beyond
one's own cohort. If a boy grew up knowing how to deal with the inevitable
frustration of being aroused in the presence of a naked girl, or a naked
couple making love, there would be less conflict. I knew from the youngest
age that boys masturbated because they had no reason for embarrassment to do
it in front of us. I wrote about the time I finally got curious enough to
take over from a boy, and to bring him to ejaculation. It was a strangely
casual event.
http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2002/37616
I wrote that the boy -- he must have been about 12 -- "had invited me and
asked for help". It was a wordless invitation. Who knows how long -- for how
many months -- he had been responding to his sexuality by masturbation, but
wasn't it nice that he could do so publicly and without embarrassment. In
Mom's Friend's House there were boys who masturbated regularly from 10 or
11; a few might have been younger. All were doing it by the time their
penises were half-grown. This had made me, in a way, jealous but not with
penis envy and not because girl's couldn't masturbate. Of course girls
could, but mostly they didn't. They didn't want to or they didn't feel the
need. Knowing how to do it wouldn't change that. Even having breasts and
hips and pubic hair doesn't automatically make a girl eager or ready for
sex, although their absence makes her sexual expression quite different, far
more subtle and less certainly less invasive. No girl to my knowledge had
oral or vaginal sex before she reached puberty; it just didn't happen and I
guess it would have been discouraged. Mom's Friend would have excluded from
her home any boy or man who interfered with compulsion with a pre-pubescent
girl. Much has been written about the moment of sexual awakening of girls,
and to a lesser extent of boys, because it's such a wonderful thing. In real
life it isn't necessarily a single moment of awakening, but a dawn of
physical and emotional feeling in a new dimension. If girls are more
romantic than boys, it is right that their sexual awaking should be hand in
hand with their romantic awakening.

Then there is semen, that great mystery of life about which Mom's Friend
left us to our own devices, and which boys used as a source of power, since
they knew we didn't know. Maybe that's why oral sex was so acceptable, even
urgent, to most of the girls I knew: it demystified the penis and its
product. Meanwhile it was left to girls a couple of years older than us --
such as Older Girl herself -- to help us to assert our own ideals and our
own rights, our right, first of all, to an orgasm and for our vagina to be
more than a cloaca. I wrote at length about oral sex.
http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2002/38760
I wrote "I expected a boy to be equally solicitous of my vagina and to be
happy to bring me to climax with his tongue and his lips". I know that I
knew this, that I would demand this, years before I was actually ready to
engage in sex. Perhaps Older Girl had led me to that; I know I had for years
seen boys and men engaged in oral sex upon girls of ages puberty through
adulthood. I can't remember who explained it to me or why I knew it wasn't
some frightening or frightful thing, but that it made a girl very happy. I
think I was surprised, later, to find that while normal and common, oral sex
is not universal. And that some lovers are reluctant participants. And, even
later, that mutual oral sex -- soixante-neuf of French lore -- is something
of an art of timing and too much of a bother for many. Yet the joy of sex is
sharing, and while sex is ill described as a competitive sport one wants, or
should want, to do the best for each other. And of course I know, and have
always known, that for a boy the best possible orgasm is a slow journey to
extended ejaculation and that to take his penis in my mouth, with my eyes
wide open, should be a source of delight not just for him, but for me. And
that for the one who goes first, the anticipation of what is to come is
electrifying. When I ingest a boy's semen, it is because its production is
making him ecstatic, and I taste and feel his delight. If he had not just,
or would not right away afterwards, make me whole -- give his tongue to me
in my most intimate places -- I would feel cheapened, unless it was a matter
of my own choice, to please him unilaterally. But as my mouth feels a boy's
penis, I am imagining that penis inside me, or his tongue inside me -- this
is a source of my arousal.

Now, in the wide world, where there are vultures and other predators, I find
that I need all the training and experience I can muster. The period between
leaving home and getting married is a period of physical and emotional
vulnerability. I write of easy fun and ready sensuality, but I should also
mention we kept our wits about us, and we were selective. In casual Benidorm
as everywhere there are unwritten rules to the social minuet that are
ignored at one's peril, at least the peril of cheapening oneself and losing
self-esteem. A boy attracts the obligation to bring me to orgasm because I
have come to know him intellectually, and we have built a relationship, if
only temporarily. This is why one-night stands are inadequate most of the
time. And why the boy who would consider a girl's fellating him, and taking
his semen, as a conquest and not as part and parcel of a sharing, is beyond
the pale.

I've written several times that the attractiveness of a nude boy is when one
can match a warm and friendly personality to a self-confident and attractive
body. Posers are time wasters. A man who thinks that the sight of his penis
alone can excite has no understanding whatsoever of sex and sexuality. Here,
in Spain, I wondered whether some of the naked boys didn't suppose that they
were being inspected and judged by the girls; and whether most of them
wouldn't have been better off being judged first on their intellect and then
on their secondary sex characteristics. Neither way poses a real problem for
me because of my upbringing, but for these kids for the first time out of
Birmingham or Manchester (and I don't mean Alabama and New Hampshire), maybe
it does, or it should. I could see a naked boy and know instinctively
whether he'd ever been nude in public before or whether (as in the Club
18-30 web site picture) he felt he had to be naked to compete for the girls,
whether they were nude or not. By the way, if I often used to wonder why a
boy doesn't get an erection when inspected and handled by the doctor, I
assumed that nakedness on the beach had the same answer: a sort of
nervousness that is fatal to an erection anyway. I'd seen that even
one-to-one, and as a girl learned to cope, reassure and arouse. As for me,
I'm happy to be looked at in the nude; but that's solely part of the social
and mating dance. Men must not take that as an invitation to intrude in my
private space.

Well, if sex is an evening sport, even in daytime the authorities are likely
to take a relaxed view of public sex in Spain these days.
http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_378462.html?menu=news.quirkies
It's not like the Franco years. (And would you believe that Virginia
Polytechnic has a course on sex and the post-Franco years?)
http://www.fll.vt.edu/Folkart/4324postfranco/index2.html
Nor is it like that nude beach in France I read about on the Internet where
one poor guy got arrested because he fell asleep and while he was asleep he
got an erection. For any of you who can read French, I got a Canadian girl
in my office to find a report of the incident:
http://snurl.com/12fz
She had helped me translate it when I wrote about it last time:
http://snurl.com/12gz
Most Americans probably would not bring children to the nude beach or within
sight of it, although readers will know that I personally think it not at
all a bad idea. Many Europeans do.
http://www.sagazette.com/jenn_sexonthebeach.html
I saw even quite young girls, of 11 or 12, undress at the beach totally
unselfconsciously, happy for boys to see their young breastlets, in an
environment that was quite safe. Only boys their own age would be seen to
pay attention to them. I don't think they, boys and girls in mid-pubescence
-- dared to consider proposing a sensuous touch, although to me, watching, I
felt they ought, even at that age, to be touching, feeling, experimenting,
having orgasms together. But even if they did not share sex yet (and how
would I know?) it reminded me of my own adolescence and made me feel quite
European to have a history of being naked with boys at age 11. When I had
gone around nude, adults might have seen, might have looked; but only kids
my own age would intervene, play, touch. Only a boy of my own age would have
held out his penis to me to touch, to feel, to rub, to bring to life, and to
spurt semen onto me in surprise.

To see, on a Spanish public beach, a naked boy with his penis half-grown
cavorting with a couple of girls his own age (more innocently than we did at
my age, I supposed) was as refreshing as it was impossible in the USA. I did
not see any sexual electricity, but if they had wanted to try something, why
not? As long as there is no duress, no compulsion and as long as kids are of
equal age and power, whatever they do on their own initiative is normal and
natural. Why should one be left to masturbate alone when that is to miss the
essence of sex in its sharing and looking not just at shapes but at
movement, at action, at response. Did those girls already know, as I did at
their age, how ecstatic their mouths and vaginas could make those cute
penises? Did they know how precious were those bits of DNA that those
penises could give them? I wondered. I heard one group of kids speak; it was
not Spanish but northern European. Danish? Swedish? Dutch? Czech even? That
made a difference, I supposed. It is with good reason that those countries
have lower rates of teenage pregnancy and STDs than America. They are not
burdened with shame and ignorance as we are.

Those who have read some of my own stories telling of my childhood as the
daughter of a former member of the Children of God and growing up with open
sexuality and with freedom to experiment will understand that it is not
because of my own suppressed instincts that I say this. Rather it is with
acknowledgment of social responsibilities in a world that does not accept my
experience as valid. One has to compromise at a public level if one is to be
left alone by the social engineers in one's private life.

This discourse will be a series of anecdotes.

I met two girls on the nude beach. They were petite, and looked identical.
They spoke with Islington-Cockney north London accents (think of Mayor Ken
Livingstone, I was told).
http://www.poptel.org.uk/ken-livingstone
The two of them had hard-packed pointy breasts (well, one girl more so than
the other), the kind that (as a recent male friend of mine would say) could
poke your eye out. They went around topless, but pushed off any boy who
dared to speak to them with the information that one of them was engaged to
be married in a couple of weeks. So why, might one ask, were they signed on
to a sexy holiday? There were other girls who were more accommodating. But
mostly they were saving their bodies for the beloved they would meet in the
bars at night, not spreading their legs on the beach.

Yet not all abstained, certainly not on the nude beach where, even at
breakfast time a few couples were coupling, even copulating. But sex is not
something one can pursue unceasingly all day long. Once or twice a day
seemed more than enough for most, enough for some. It seemed apparent that
the daytime couplers were already known to each other and were on show;
evening liaisons were more eclectic, random and serendipitous.

My Friend had, as it turned out, had never tried oral sex. Perhaps it had
never occurred to her, or more likely the occasion had never arisen when she
had to make a decision either way. But it was obvious from her stares when
she saw the incident, casually unfolding on a beach blanket nearby, that
this was new to her. A thirtysomething woman was seated on a blanket,
reading a magazine, beside a man lying on his back with his eyes closed.
Both were naked. Something she saw in the distance, or perhaps something he
said or that she was reading, distracted her attention from her magazine and
directed it to his relaxed penis. In one smooth and continuous series of
motions, she got to her knees, grasped his scrotum with the palm of her
hand, her thumb encircling his limp penis, and put his penis in her mouth.
She began a steady rhythm of up-and-down movement of her lips on his penis,
stopping every so often to allow his penis to become more rigid. The man
stroked her hair with one hand; she continued her work until he ejaculated
in her mouth, his semen running down his penis, over his balls, glistening
in the sun. At that point the woman wiped her mouth with a towel, put some
more suntan lotion on her arms, legs and chest, and lay back to sun herself.
The man's semen was left to dry and harden on his body. I wondered if she
did this often, and what she got in return. I had done this sort of thing,
gratuitous gratification, to pubescent boys when I was a kid. But once I got
older, I sort of wanted an assurance of something in return. Sooner or
later.

I saw no reason to explain too much about my childhood to My Friend. I am
happy for people to see that I'm comfortable with sex, and I no longer feel
any need, or mission, to proselytize or to explain; at least not unless
somebody asks. It's not that I'm particularly embarrassed by my past; I
think I've succeeded in life thus far reasonably well. But I'm well aware
that most people are victims of the neo-Victorian suppressed sexuality that
pervades government and education and pretends to be shocked by American
culture at the same time that these same people do exactly what I do, and
with less enjoyment no doubt. I had mentioned the Children of God to My
Friend, and she knew my Mom had raised me alone, and she was aware that I am
self-confident among boys. I had had occasion to mention that I had lost my
virginity soon after puberty, and that I had felt both at the time and now
that I had been well rid of it. Beyond that, I sought only to encourage her
towards her own empowerment. To that I only added, the little playlet on the
beach at its end, that it seemed to me that oral sex could be a form of that
empowerment for women. I said this to My Friend, and she seemed to be taking
my comment under advisement. I had sensed a certain curiosity on her part.
In any case she would respond to the atmosphere of that vacation spot, and
my lead and confidence, in her lovemaking, perhaps without realizing it. I
didn't want to go into detail with My Friend, but my readers will know my
views that a penis (or any body) is only as attractive as the personality of
its owner and that arrogance, chauvinism, belligerence, selfishness are the
antithesis of romance and affectionate lovemaking. Our beach neighbor was
being romantic. Unlike men, women do not need to see the details of
lovemaking to appreciate it; indeed often the less seen, the more romantic
and suggestive is the scene.

On another point: personally, it bothers me that European men aren't
circumcised, because I particularly like the easy and free access to the
most sensitive areas of a circumcised penis. But one has to widen one's
horizons, doesn't one, and in Europe it's only the Jews and the Muslims who
are circumcised in any numbers. And neither in Europe nor in America have I
met many of either or related to either in any close way. (I recall that
Moses David had his own problems in that regard, but perhaps that related to
his vision of himself as the new messiah.)

In Spain, the evening meal starts 2 or 3 hours later than in England: at 9
or 10 p.m. Night life starts after that, and goes on until morning. My
Friend and I visited lots of the clubs and bars. We were American
curiosities and were chatted up everywhere. It was hard to take seriously
boys whose preoccupations were getting drunk and English football. I
decided, after a while, that the best defense was to change the subject to
cricket, a somewhat higher-class sport in England if not the Commonwealth,
and one which I knew nothing about and so my interlocutor would have to
explain to me in simple terms. See, for example:
http://snurl.com/12co

On the other hand, we could dance to loud music and not have to talk much,
and when we got tired we could just go back to our room. After three days of
meeting nobody I wanted to share too many ideas with, much less my body, we
wound up talking to two men at the bar who although they didn't play cricket
themselves knew all about it and actually described it in intellectual
terms. It turned out they weren't vicarious footballers but real amateur
rugby players. Rugby is considered a higher class sport than soccer, and
it's also much less racially integrated than soccer is. That's a matter of
class, not segregation or discrimination. After all, unlike in America a
sexy racially mixed couple in Europe does not attract stares, or even fail a
"blink test". 

These two were school teachers, "on holiday" with a different tour company
than mine; they were from Cheltenham. Cheltenham is famous for a lot of
things: The National Hunt Festival (a horse race) is held there in April.
Mary Archer, wife of the felon (and would-be mayor of London, the job
actually filled by Ken Livingstone with the funny Islington accent, if he
hadn't been convicted and imprisoned for perjury) Jeffrey Archer, went to
school there. (Jeffrey Archer falsified his testimony and his diary and
suborned perjury by his secretary in denying having cavorted with a
prostitute.) The judge, now deceased, took Archer's side, remarked to the
jury that how could anyone not just love the "fragrant" Mary (well, fragrant
Mary never takes her clothes off, and pompous Lord Archer just has to
ejaculate into something or some body, so that explains it, doesn't it).
James Bamford wrote about the GCHQ installation in Cheltenham, which listens
to secrets in the air, on land and at sea.
http://snurl.com/12h3

The two teachers were kind of cute and had something to talk about besides
football. We spent the evening dancing with them, talking to them about
English history, English politics and existentialist notions of human body
parts. We also consumed prodigious amounts of Spanish Rioja wine.
http://www.valvanera.com/Vino/vino.html
Eventually they walked us back to our room, and wound up spending the night.

My Friend and Boy #1 had already been kissing for hours before, during and
after dances and touching in all sorts of ways, and it was scarcely
remarkable that Boy #1 had her top off again and was kissing her breasts
within a minute of the door being closed behind us. My Boy #2 was
considerably less steady on his feet by this time, and I would have to help
him undress both of us. I brought him to the bathroom and sort of helped him
do what he had to do, and by the time we came back Boy #1 had his penis
inside My Friend's vagina and they were having conventional fun. I could see
that proper precautions had been taken. I had taken Boy #2's clothes off in
the bathroom and he looked cuter than ever, drunk or not.

I didn't think Boy #2 was up to great exertion. I recalled that night when I
wanted to find out if I could give a sleeping boy an orgasm without his
waking.
http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2002/37631
I decided that I would go ahead and see whether Boy #2 was inhibited by all
that wine, or not. I finished undressing him and myself, and once back in
the main room I started giving him oral sex. This was not as easy as it
would have been if he had not had so much to drink; he had trouble
concentrating and his penis wasn't very stiff. The whole point of my
experiment with that sleeping boy at Mom's Friend's House had been to figure
out whether, nocturnal emissions aside, a boy could be made to ejaculate
without concentrating on the rising orgasmic sensation from kissing and
sucking his penis. After all, a lot of the time a boy or girl needs to
concentrate to have an orgasm; there's mental effort and not just physical
stimulation. I remember that boy's big-little circumcised penis lying there
on its bed of hair after I had pulled down the covers and undone his pajama
bottoms, Older Girl and Terrific Girl looking on in the moonlight, nude. I
remember then envying Older Girl her lovely big breasts, and seeing Terrific
Girl in just the start of puberty with points of breasts and wisps of pubic
hair, imagining her at sex -- as indeed she would be not so many months
later at the sangria pool party. But my concentration was on the sleeping
boy's penis. His penis needed me, and I needed it; it was so lovely and cute
and right for my mouth. I could easily fit it all inside, run my tongue all
over, even as it inevitably stiffened. I did make it hard, and he did
ejaculate into my mouth as much as he was able to produce at his stage of
development. Finished, his penis snapped back to his body once released from
my mouth, and it began to shrivel. But the boy had half-woken before I could
finish and cover him up. We had hoped to leave and return to the girls' room
undetected. I don't remember now why it was so important for me to have
signaled to Older Girl and to Terrific Girl to disrobe, but it was and
remains a beautiful picture in my mind that they stood there naked,
supportive, witnessing my experiment.

Here too, whatever the medical truth, in due course Boy #2 came, sort of,
and I felt vindicated. We went to sleep. In the morning, and it was barely
morning -- it must have been 11:00 am when we awoke -- Boy #2 did not
remember very much. But he could see we were naked in bed together, and
immediately wanted sex. I am never hesitant to assert myself, and while I
was happy for him to fondle me all over, I made it clear that I expected him
to eat my pussy before he put his penis anywhere inside of me. I don't know
whether this is a normal demand by a Cheltenham girl. Nor could I tell
whether he'd ever done it before. (I pride myself on being able to know
whether a boy is doing something for the first time or not, but some boys
successfully hide their inexperience.) I guided his head where I wanted it
to be, and he did with his tongue what he needed to do to make my clitoris
engorged and delighted. After I climaxed I took the initiative to put a
condom on him and directed his penis into my vagina. That he had to work to
get access to it must have increased his pleasure by way of anticipation
because the startled look in his eyes when he came to orgasm was a measure
of his joy and made me feel good. After he was done I played with his penis,
wanting to make him feel good and to make him know I was glad he was there.

The boys rented a car and we drove around the "Costa del Crime" looking at
the mansions of absconded British swindlers and tax evaders that afternoon,
much the way tourists look at the houses of the stars when they visit
Hollywood. And yes, I know that the BBC has said the new extradition treaty
means the British Mob isn't safe in Spain anymore.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/1670820.stm
But when have the British courts ever convicted anybody of criminal
importance for any financial fraud? Think Guiness.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/34910.stm
And why did Robert Maxwell get away with his crimes -- foreshadowing the
Enron crooks' theft of employees' and pensioners' assets -- right up until
the time of his suicide and burial on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem? (He
wasn't religious, it's that if he'd been buried in England people would be
digging up his grave to spit on it, and worse.) As I was told during our
tour, English defense lawyers just get the jury totally confused with
accounting detail, and the judge dismisses the case before it even gets to
the jury. Well, maybe that will happen with the Enron, WorldCom, Tyco and
Global Crossing crooks, and the other friends of the White House, too. (Hey,
the Halliburton guys who stole their employees' pensions aren't even being
called "crooks": they got the prize of the Iraq contract, and they'll be
paid with the proceeds of the Iraqi oil that the US Forces are "holding in
trust for the Iraqi people".)

Well, the next day the boys would be returning to England; My Friend and I
would have another two days to explore this corner of Spain and its male
visitors. We spent another night together; Boy #1 and I encouraged My Friend
to give him a blow job, and she did. She wasn't asked to do it -- Boy #1
wasn't crude like that. He was an English Teacher. (Remember: that's what
Rose Grant (Chita Rivera) had wanted Albert Peterson (Dick Van Dyke) to be
in Bye Bye Birdie: "An English teacher is really someone...")
http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/byebyebirdie/anenglishteacher.htm
(With all due respect for that kindred-spirited reader who had the grace to
chide me, ever so gently, for mis-attributing the words of Harry MacAfee
(Paul Lyndee) in a previous essay.)
http://www.theatrehistory.com/american/musical006.html
Boy #1 would stroke My Friend's breasts and somehow her eyes would drift to
his pants to see what was happening; and she herself would feel his need.
Our Boys had the kind of personality that makes a girl want to take charge
and make them happy. And I'm sure that having watched that woman on the
beach doing, and apparently enjoying, oral sex, had influenced her. But it
was also a matter of all those calamares and all that Rioja wine. I don't
usually pay close attention to others having oral sex; after all it's far
less interesting and less fun than doing it myself and having it done to me.
But I couldn't help glancing at her from time to time to see her progress. I
felt, in a sense, the way I had when I was 13 or 14 and had a mission to
introduce pubescent boys to the Joy of Sex, perhaps before their time but to
their everlasting appreciation.

It was a little bit strange, two boys seated next to each other at the edge
of one of the beds. Since coming to the Capital City I hadn't had sex in
view of others even one time; nor I had a fetish or urge to be seen during
sex since my adolescence. Then, perhaps, I was unsure of myself, presuming
that bigger girls, with better breasts and clearer skin and fairer hair and
nicer vaginas could do it more skillfully, could make a boy happier and thus
more loving. But now, almost as if by prearranged plan, My Friend and I got
on our knees in front of our boys. We had, all four of us, been sitting on
the bed talking, and somehow My Friend and I had the same idea at the same
time, and we drifted to the floor and sat there a few minutes, still in
conversation. We were already topless and the boys were staring down at our
breasts as boys will do. Well, in other situations they may pretend not to,
they may squint, or wear sunglasses, or look in another direction, but I
know. Anyway, we were in the privacy of our boudoir, and there was no reason
for denial, Nixonian plausible denial nor not. (Did Nixon cheat on his wife
like all those other presidents? Was he physically able? Will we ever know?)

Then, as if by common signal we both got to our knees and each of us just
pulled down the shorts of the boy we'd been with, playfully really, sort of
in retaliation for the rude stares; but they lifted themselves off the bed
enough to make the task easy; they knew what was next. They had been wearing
bathing trunks so once their shorts were at their ankles their penises were
completely exposed. They were at the edge of the bed, their testicles
drooping down, their penises soft on top, within our grasp. As we observed
them, the boys became self-conscious and thought of sex, and their penises
began to rise up, one after the other. I wanted to touch the one in front of
me, to make my boy as excited as he could be. I wanted his semen. This was a
holiday game for us; innocent fun. And for those who say one should take
precautions for oral sex, well I've looked at the statistics too. One should
take precautions appropriate to the occasion and the part of the body at
risk. One should not have oral sex if one has a dental condition, but if you
think I'm going to use a dental dam, the Nurse Practitioner who wrote to me
should think again. Half the teachers in Africa may have AIDS, for
sociological reasons I won't explore here, but that's not the case in
England where the number of Ethnic British teachers with AIDS is probably
less than .0001% and the likelihood of oral transmission from one of them
effectively zero.

We two just went to work more or less oblivious of the other. I remember the
first time I had a penis in my mouth, and I remember that there was never
any doubt what to do. Question, perhaps, over which spots were the most
sensitive, which licks felt the best. But sex is something that comes so
naturally I am bewildered how so many books could have been written about
it. Our boys, too, ignored each other, thought only of us. The conversation
had ended abruptly. I had my boy's penis in my mouth and I was experimenting
with it, trying to tickle it to maximum erection. I felt a drop of liquid; I
was making progress. I had the impression that My Friend was following my
lead, that we were bobbing our heads almost in unison. Occasionally one of
the boys would sigh or gasp out of unexpectedly intense pleasure. I held my
boy's penis in two fingers, cuddled his balls with my other hand, responded
to his sighs with firm pressure from my lips. He came and continued my mouth
strokes as I swallowed. I swallowed because I wanted to, because for those
moments I loved Boy #2 even though I knew we would surely never meet again.
My Friend wasn't really prepared for Boy #1 to ejaculate in her mouth; when
it came to making a choice of swallowing or spitting, she did neither and it
made a bit of a mess. She seemed embarrassed. Our oral sex had been a free
gift; we didn't need sex in return just then, just companionship. Sometimes
it's like that; especially when you feel, you know, that if you asked the
boy would be only too glad to make you happy, to satisfy you. We would have
sex, the missionary way, once more with them, later.

We went out to a topless bar -- a bar where the patrons were topless -- and
danced for a long time with them and with other British tourists. And drank
some more wine. It didn't take much imagination to figure that couples who
were slipping away from the bar or the dance floor, and then returning after
awhile with sheepish grins were going out to have sex. I wondered whether
they were doing it on the beach and whether the sand wasn't causing them
grief if they were. Anyway, whatever inhibitions they might have in England
were clearly abandoned here in Spain, and why not? I thought of Willy
Russell's great play and movie "Shirley Valentine" and wondered whether
there was a sexy Spanish restauranteur who looked like Tom Conti and who
owned a boat and who would like to take us around, and we could be topless
on the boat and have fun. And I could maybe stay forever.

Boys #1 and #2, who were to leave together the next day for Cheltenham,
aside, in Benidorm it was like looking for the needle in a haystack to find
boys worth more than a few minutes of our attention, more than a single
dance. We could eliminate right away boys who were reading the Star or the
Sun, because they would be staring at the naked breasts of the girl on Page
Three and not at ours.
http://www.page3.com
Financial Times readers were a waste of time because they tend to be more
interested in making money than in spending it on me. I have to read the FT
at work in the Capital City, so I know. Times and Guardian readers were
about right, but few and far between. Once we did get chatted up, what we
could not avoid was a political awakening. The USA, under current management
so smug, self-satisfied and unilateralist, has such a different outlook on
life -- and outside the cultural centers of New York and California on sex
-- than Europe. I read recently that traditional American myths are going
down the drain
http://www.nytimes.com/2003/03/30/opinion/30FALU.html
and how sad that is since nations are built on myths -- just as is, for that
matter, sex. 
http://snurl.com/12g3
As for communication between America and Europe, it's no wonder that there
is a dialog of the deaf going on. Here were hundreds of young men and women
unemployed at home, many of whom had never had an unsubsidized paying job,
who got the dole ("jobseeker's allowance"), free health care, and had enough
money from that and from parents and off-the-books work to afford an
occasional vacation abroad. I ran into a Danish guy who said that his
government felt that because the unemployed had so much time on their hands,
they needed more, not less, money. Something perverse about that claim, and
it's probably not true anyway. Then there was the Dutch guy who explained
that the state provides sex workers to minister to the handicapped. I
remembered the French mothers who were led to masturbate their handicapped
adolescents sons, incapable of masturbating themselves, when their sexual
tension made it impossible for them to sit still, to study, to exist.

"Libido does not discriminate. 'When frustration asserts itself, it can make
a cerebral palsy victim more aggressive,' says M. Lachal[, himself
wheelchair-bound and incapable of normal sex or self-gratification].
'Sometimes it's terrible. When you are a mother, and your adolescent son is
tormented by physical needs that render him uncontrollable, that disrupt his
studies, what do you do? Well, certain mothers are led to relieve their
child, to masturbate him.'"

The article (Le Monde, Oct. 22, 2002, which I have cited before, and which
my Canadian friend helped me translate) went on to say that the social
services in other European countries provide home visits for the handicapped
by sex workers, just as the Dutch boy had said.

I wondered: what happens in America? Do we admit that the handicapped have a
right to sex? Boy #2 had mentioned an English radio program aimed at the
disabled and called "Does He Take Sugar?", reflecting the tendency of people
to suppose that the physically handicapped are also mentally handicapped,
and to address their question to the person pushing the wheel chair and not
to its occupant. That was only one of the issues that struck me as
representative of the ways in which Continental Europeans are more honest in
regards to matters of sex than Anglo-Saxons, and particularly Americans.

My Friend and I went on to explore some more. We had really come to see
Spain, not little England. And sex as an academic subject was not the
purpose of our visit; it was rather to be part and parcel of our cultural
exploration, and part of the fun. Eventually we found a literary bar, or
what passed as one as far as we were concerned. There, people spoke Spanish,
and if they spoke English it was because they had studied it in school, not
because they were English. Well, I had two years of Spanish, and I can read
menus and shop signs, and newspaper headlines. My Friend's Spanish was
equally bad, or good, depending upon your point of view. Not enough to
debate, but enough to introduce ourselves and with luck get a point across.
Once we'd got started we began remembering all the vocabulary that we'd
forgotten. The wine helped, too, and made us less self-conscious of our bad
grammar. We didn't know any of the sex-related words; the boys seemed
hesitant to tell us, or perhaps did not understand the questions. Pechos? I
saw that on the cover of a women's magazine, and it meant breasts. "El pene"
(penis) I looked up in a dictionary in a local bookshop. I should have
remembered that from the kids' abuse testimony that Liana translated for me.
http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2002/40250

This corner of Spain was a place where you imagined everyone you saw as if
naked, even if he was not. In this corner of the corner, one could unclothe
each person's mind as well. In the English bars, by contrast, the common aim
was to abandon all mental effort for the duration, to surrender perhaps to
animal instincts but never to reason. (Is there a political parallel there?)
There was always the excuse that it was hot, and that there wasn't any air
conditioning. But if it were just the heat, then why would I want to stand
behind a boy, my bare chest against his back, my fingers languidly, as if by
accident, caressing the front of his shorts and exciting him, making him
want to turn around and be yet closer to me? Why would I welcome his fingers
touching my nipples, then discreetly sliding inside my shorts, my panties,
caressing the inside of my labia, making me feel warm. And where was such a
boy?

I met a graduate student who had worked for a while to earn money for
college in a hotel in Tenerife. I asked him if he had ever heard of David
Berg or the Children of God (I have written about their hasty departure from
there because of German press revelations about Berg's pedophile
tendencies), but he hadn't. There's some stuff on Berg's time in Tenerife at
http://snurl.com/12cp
My Friend is interested in film, and knows everything about every actor and
actress and director, and so she became the life of the conversation, and it
didn't seem anymore to matter what mistakes any of us made in the others'
language. Besides, the more wine we drank, the better our linguistic
facility. It was just nice not to have to talk about football, British
politics, and the Iraq war. Then the graduate student collared another
student, a friend of his, who happened in and My Friend had a partner too,
one whose English was quite passable and who had a fabulous smile.

Inevitably we went back to our literary friend's place. I have said that I
no longer have sex on the first date (and isn't it ironic that now I'm older
I'm harder to get), but this rule is unenforceable on vacation, especially
in a Latin country. If I happen to link up with a dreamy sort of boy. then I
want to see this dreamy intellectual naked, and I want him to see me. If I
like him, no less than when I was growing up, I want to see his penis go
from limp to stiff because he wants me. I assumed that Europeans had the
same feelings, and performed at sex the same way as Americans. Don't they?
My literary friend turned out to be very good with foreplay. He spent an
hour touching and caressing before he moistened my vaginal opening,
positioned himself above me, and thrust his penis inside me in one long
stroke. He used a condom without my having to prompt him; I wondered how
long condoms had been legal in Catholic Spain. Anyway, by his age, our age,
boys aren't tentative any more; I wasn't surprised by his sexual
assertiveness and anyway he was looking me in the eyes and not, as a young
and less confident boy would do, his own penis at work. When he had come, he
caressed my clitoris until he knew I'd climaxed, and he kissed me and got me
a drink of Ovaltine and we went to sleep. I didn't pay attention to where My
Friend went and what she did. I think she had a good time. Girls usually
exchange details of their liaisons, sometimes quite in detail. This time,
somehow, we forgot.

I found it amazing that in the two days I spent with him my Spanish fluency
improved. Words long buried in my memory seemed to come to the surface. Sex
was fun, but now we had a local to show us around and we got to see things
that had local and world significance, not just significance to English
people. Sex in Europe is the same, yet it's different.

So: what did I accomplish on my vacation, beyond having a good time? I'd
made the trip because it was incredibly cheap and I could have a European
holiday for the price of a local one back home. I'd wanted to see whether it
was true that Europeans on their own turf are more open in matters of
flirting and sex, especially among the young. The answer is that some are,
and some aren't; that there is less traditionalist (i.e., Catholic, Greek
Orthodox and, yes, I saw My Big Fat Greek Wedding) reticence in the north of
Europe, but on the other hand the Mediterranean has its own culture of fun
and everybody, even adolescents who might elsewhere be embarrassed to reveal
their partial maturity, are happy to undress on the beach. (And there isn't
the self-stifling that goes on in a naturist environment in the USA.)

I learned about football
http://www.uefa.com
and the Eurovision Song Contest
http://www.eurovision.tv/en/index.php
neither of which anybody in the USA knows, or wants to know, anything about.
I had wanted to know more about the European Union, and was there a common
European culture (and a common openness on sex in culture and sex in life).
But every time I asked a Brit about the EU, I got a raspberry (Cockney
rhyming slang: raspberry tart = fart) in return. If there is a "European
citizenship", is there, I wanted to know, a European notion of treason?
Nobody knew, and Google doesn't have the answer, so I guess not. But the
European Union does, it seems, have a view on existentialism and on body
parts: think "autonomy, dignity, integrity and vulnerability"
http://www.bu.edu/wcp/Papers/Bioe/BioeRend.htm
But, as Basil Fawlty said, "Don't mention the war".
http://www.fawltysite.net/episode06.htm
because while almost all EU citizens oppose the war (the Brits oppose the
war but support the troops, which makes some sense if only they will
continue to support those troops after the war ends) the British and Spanish
governments support the war. Now, Tony Blair can do that only with the
support of the opposition Tories, and since he's a populist "New Labour"
politician who has projected the image of a man with a conscience, one is
left thinking that George W. Bush has told him a deep dark secret that he
hasn't told us. But that's pure speculation on my part. I keep thinking of
all those crosses in all those war cemeteries in France and Belgium, and all
those girls who grew old and died without ever finding a husband and having
sex and children, or even the other way around. I think less of the "enemy"
dead, if only because I have the feeling the enemy don't like me very much,
and certainly don't like my lifestyle. Well, isn't there a reciprocal of
this: the missing female babies of East and South Asia who've been aborted,
and there will be all those men growing old without wives. Sharia, I know,
forbids a Muslim woman from marrying a non-Muslim man; so I guess there's no
rational or feasible solution of transferring the oversupply of one sex from
one part of Asia to the other. But there we are: a religious diktat that
reminds me, again, of Moses David and his proclamations on sex and
procreation.

Readers of the accounts of my childhood will realize that I've become quite
mainstream, even conventional. Nothing that happened on my vacation, except
I suppose the acts of sex themselves, would be censured today on evening TV.
And the beach sex and tandem oral sex scenes would probably go unremarked on
cable TV. So, as I predicted, what I now have to say about my life is no
longer really relevant to this forum, which tends towards the outrageous and
the marginal fictitious accounts of romps with and by children below the age
of consent. I suppose that once I went to work in business attire in the
Capital City that was inevitable. I have my private history; and I go West
to see Mom, who has been unwell, and Mom's Friend when I can -- but even
there it is now time for reminiscences of late middle age, the frontier of
the Third Age (as the Europeans call retirement age). The last two kids in
Mom's Friend's House, the one's I wrote about showing off to Mom and me
their gymnastic sex, with mutual oral sex followed by penis in vagina, are
growing up fast and few could be shocked by anything they do together
anymore. Who, after all, can complain about two loving teens with mature
genitals making love safely? I was there recently, and saw them again, this
time making love with their mothers about. I had the feeling they had
contrived to undress in front of me, just to show off how they had grown,
how now they were mature, lovelier than ever, a perfect picture in the nude
but teasing each other and the girl delighting to see his penis erect and
wanting her, his testicles in slow motion below. Another time, doing
homework together, the boy was distracted and he kept distracting her by
touching her breasts through her shirt. Finally, assuming woman's burden,
she had him stand up, and she took down his pants and briefs. His grand
penis was already stiff and standing straight out, its skin taut, its round
tip pointing at her. It was lovely; she took it into her mouth with
resignation but tenderly, her tongue running first along its slit, where she
knew there might be a drop of welcoming seminal fluid. (Since I do that
myself, I always notice when other girls do it.) When he had ejaculated, she
gulped, then pulled up his pants again. He fastened them, they kissed, and
they went back to work, smiling. Well, woman's position is a compromise; her
needs are different. The way she did it there was nothing to clean up, and
they could get back to their homework. As with my experience with Boy #2,
sometimes it is best to recognize that and get on with it.

I remember last year being so touched during my visit at seeing the boy's
still-growing penis, wet from his girl's vagina, as he stood next to Mom and
me as we were on our chaise longues in the garden, seeking and getting our
love and approval. The boy's penis was still pulsating, just a few drips of
semen left at its tip. I wrote in an essay then that I wanted so much to
close my hand around the young boy's cute, delightful penis that had given
such pleasure to his girl and such vicarious delight to me in just seeing it
work, and I wanted to squeeze it tenderly, to stroke its glowing tip, to cup
his cute testicles, to see him smile as I did it. Mom, next to me, could not
have been more pleased. I think she sees continuity there, as she does in me
and my career and hoped-for future family. Those kids continue to hang about
with each other, attached at the hip so to speak. That constancy is the
biggest surprise when every other relationship in Mom's Friend's House was
both casual and temporary. But they are such lovely, cute and normal kids.
It really is nice that they can share intimacy and intimate pleasure in that
way, with their family. Those were, after all, the same kids who when they
were small had watched the 16-Year-Old Boy and me at sex, and had asked us
questions, and touched us, and wanted to be like us, wanting to know all
about the semen they saw dripping. Now they were grown. Their mothers had
lived with Mom's Friend almost all those kids' lives, they shared Mom's
Friend's views on child-rearing, and delighted in their learning and their
joy. As I have said, mothers dearly love to see their son's penises growing
and grown, and they love to see them in erection and in ejaculation, to see
their first sex. But for nearly all other mothers, it's an impossible -- and
never articulated -- dream. Seeing the boy in the nude last time, I
understood. I had seen him and his penis grow up from infancy; this was an
emotional event. I knew that I would want to be there for a son of mine too,
to see his penis, grown from babyhood, at full erection, satisfying a girl,
ejaculating, sticky and wet with his, and my, DNA. Those kids' mothers, I
was told, had brought them together in the first place, encouraging and
watching. How much better that is for adolescents than hidden, secret,
embarrassed and quick sex, usually particularly unsatisfactory for the girl.
The picture of the mothers are sunning themselves nude in the garden and the
kids are playing at sex on the grass is a wholesome sight. A point I want to
make is that no boy should ever be embarrassed by an erection; but he should
not be permitted to use it for intimidation, something impossible with
respect to the girls growing up in Mom's Friend's House, who would have
laughed at the notion. That girl probably would have seen her boy with an
erection often enough before she was ready to take his penis inside her; I
would guess that he masturbated in front of her at least once because I
heard that one of the mothers finally said that if the two of them were
going to play with themselves they might just as well play with each other.
And then they did. 

Mom's Friend's basic philosophy was to raise kids who were so comfortable
with themselves and with their sexuality, and so close to their parents that
they would want a parent to be there for this rite of passage, assuming (as
it usually was, but just not in my case) a planned event. Indeed, Mom's
Friend had told her daughter from infancy, and probably other children too,
that it could and should be planned; spontaneity had its place but a first
time for either or both kids ought to be nicely arranged, even if one only
had an hour or a few minutes to do it. Because there was no embarrassment or
pressure on this, I never knew a case of impotence on the day, not for more
than a few moments. Part of the planning would be for the boy and girl to
know how to deal with that. I guess one should have been worried about the
potential for spontaneous ejaculation spoiling the defloration, but that
never happened either, probably because the boys were already very aware
sexually and the anticipation would not, alone, have been enough to give
them an orgasm. It's funny how people rise to meet their responsibilities in
that way, most of the time. OK, I've seen kids so confused that the girl
doesn't position herself right, or the boy misses the target; but that's
what the others are there to help with.

I remember one time when I was more or less in charge of arrangements, that
the boy who was brought over, and whom the girl scarcely knew but had sort
of a crush on, was less experienced and aware than those who lived in more
open environments like ours. He lived with his parents and a sister, and
they were occasional nudists but the kids themselves hadn't seen much, or
perhaps any, sex. They had just been talked to about it, since infancy, and
encouraged to find out for themselves. So I had to explain everything, and I
sat on a chair and spread my own legs and showed the boy where he should
kiss and lick, but he was hesitant. I had to tell him it would be lovely. My
own boy of the day came over and to show the other boy what I had meant, he
ran his tongue over and into all my sex parts, and then when I was ready I
lay down and spread my legs extra wide and he put his penis inside me and we
had sex. Then I told the other boy to do the same thing to his virginal
girl. 

It was less polished a performance than it might have been, but the girl
didn't complain and neither would he. His younger sister was there, and she
had to keep stifling her giggles; and then she just stared at his wet penis
when he was done and at the flowing semen he had left behind; and for the
first time he got embarrassed. The deflowered girl just lay there for a
while in contemplation, her legs wide apart, her knees bent, her labia, even
her vagina, open for us to see. She touched herself to check what we were
looking at, feeling the wetness all over and her matted pubic hair; then she
got up. I think things would have been better if the boy's father or mother
had been in the room, but they hadn't come in. In fact, when he walked over
to them afterwards naked and still with an erection and somewhat sheepish
but wanting to show off, it was now the turn of the parents to get
embarrassed. Their sexual openness apparently only went so far but at least
they weren't shocked or dismissive or scolding because that could have been
damaging. Anyway, it obviously was their initiative to include their son in
the pool of children available for family sex parties. They were fully
dressed then; later we went into the garden and the mother at least had to
take off her top. 

During the defloration I'm not even sure they had known their daughter was
in the room with their son. She had followed the other girls' lead in
undressing herself and she had cute breasts. She was somewhat self-conscious
perhaps, but her curiosity is what took control. Presumably she had seen her
brother naked often enough, but probably never in arousal or ejaculation.
Her own defloration was not long after that and I would guess it was her own
idea, not her parents. Parents, after all, sometimes set different standards
for their girls than they want for their boys, however unreasonable that is.
By then we'd known enough to insist she come and stay with us for more than
a week beforehand, to see how we lived and what we did, and there were no
problems on the day. In fact, by then she'd been invited to touch and feel
and play with another boy's penis, not really in a sexual way at all, so it
would be no surprise at all. I was only worried that she would in fact get
aroused and give in and have sex then instead of at the party; but it didn't
happen. She just watched him masturbate, and she saw the stream of semen
that he let spurt into the air, and she laughed.

I wonder if she would have volunteered for defloration at our place if she
hadn't been there for her brother's event. It's certainly reassuring to see
a loved one so happy and it puts to shame the so-called social norms
forbidding it. Our rule was only that brothers, sisters and other family
shouldn't have sex with each other, not that they shouldn't be present or
have sex at the same time with their own partners, which is lovely. Part of
my preparation for the girl's event was to make her brother less protective
and more supportive, especially since he didn't know the girl's partner for
the day. Anyway, we arranged it for one of the nude dances, so actually her
defloration could be lost in the crowd if the couple had wanted it that way.
Parents weren't usually there at such dances: what's the point of a
chaperone when sex is the main idea of the event, and anyway parents
wouldn't have liked our kind of music. The nice thing about that family, in
the end, was that the brother and sister, having been there for each other's
most intimate and most precious moment, could without hesitation socialize
and have sex in each other's presence forever afterwards. As was often the
case for someone special, or perhaps at the first couple peeling off the
dance floor for sex, or one of the last, when kids are tired of dancing and
just sitting around, several kids, including the girl's brother, sat on the
floor on each side of the couple. The couple obviously appreciated having
the others there, and they kissed and fondled and played with each others
sex parts, then licked them and, finally, the girl lay back with legs spread
apart, the boy felt inside her and guided his penis home, tentatively at
first and then with more confidence as she made no complaint. Every couple
is different, and yet they are alike. The penis rises and falls, the
testicles sway; perhaps the girl moves with the rhythm. I always tell kids
to remember to keep their eyes open and show each other romance and love.
And I tell the boy he must kiss the girl when he has ejaculated; often boys
forget. And I say that they should not separate for a few minutes, to let
the penis and the clitoris have their last bits of pleasure. And if the girl
hasn't had an orgasm yet, he must tend to her with fingers or with tongue
until she tells him she has had enough -- that she's too sensitive now, or
doesn't want to go on. In that case I insist he come back to her later for
cunnilingus. A lot of boys don't want to lick a girl's vagina when it is
filled with their semen and I ridicule them for it. It's important that a
girl has an orgasm the first day of her sex life, if at all possible. The
boy will always then get to put his penis insider her again, so it's in his
interest too, to be solicitous in that way. Another thing is that when the
new couple is finished, the two of them will be seeing others all around
them now aroused and copying them. That's reassuring. Typically the boy will
get another erection soon after. We strongly felt that a couple should stay
together for the whole day and evening and not be changing partners. Sexual
tension and self-control are, after all, things a boy (and a girl too from
time to time) is going to have to live with for the rest of his life. Since
others won't be about all the time in the future to guide them it's just as
well that kids learn the ground rules from us on their first day.

Our nude dances, or even a spontaneous party, were always the best venue
because of the supportive friends and family about. A couple, like the
Big-Breasted Girl and her friend, would be under no pressure to be the first
to disrobe, to fondle each other, to stage the penetration. It was, in a
sense, ironic that it would prove to be Mom's Friend's own daughter who
would have the most physical difficulty, her hymen needing to be forced and
its tearing causing her pain. The boy, as I was told, felt confused and
awful and it was only because Mom's Friend was there that the event turned
out well for both of them despite the blood and the pain. I imagine the
support was very much like that of a midwife attending to a birth; anyway
Mom's Friend got her daughter a pillow to put underneath her rear, and she
placed or focused the boy's penis just right, and told Older Girl to stay
relaxed and her boy to push hard. Mom's Friend and all the women and girls
made a big fuss afterwards, to show Older Girl how they loved her and were
proud of her. I think it would have been terrible for the girl to have been
alone on that day, even with a boy she loved. Older Girl said that everybody
being there had made all the difference, and the boy afterwards really felt
bad for her. As it happens, Older Girl is one of those females who seem to
have a climax each and every time, so her entry into an early active sex
life was the best thing that could have happened to her. On the other hand,
often such girls don't see a need for oral sex, which is too bad. Older Girl
isn't that way, but then it's something she always saw around her.

When it was up to Older Girl herself to arrange a defloration, as on behalf
of Terrific Girl, she made sure there would be support, although in fact the
boy's penis went in smoothly and I guess painlessly even though Terrific
Girl was still quite young and still developing. Terrific Girl, as it
happens, didn't have her mother around; it was her father, a lover of Mom's
Friend, who had custody of her. The sangria party where Terrific Girl had
her first sex was really for us kids, but her father and Mom's Friend
happened to be there looking on from a distance, and they were holding hands
romantically, which was nice. I assume that her father had made some special
arrangement to be there, because in those days he seemed always to be
traveling on business. I guess for those of us who believe that satisfactory
and early first sex is so important to every element of later life and
relationships, a child's coming of age deserves special recognition.
Certainly there was never any reason for embarrassment to love and be loved
in front of a parent; in retrospect I've regretted that Mom didn't get to
see me do it, except that as it turned out it was a non-event. Of course the
protocol is that parents don't intervene, unless as in Older Girl's case
there is reason to. But for any of the adults we knew, mostly refugees from
the COG, the vision of the first time for their child of penis to be sliding
into vagina, for a rush of semen and, hopefully, a consuming orgasm, was a
family event of the greatest magnitude, a source of intense pride and
satisfaction. I think of how, in so many societies that we think primitive,
defloration is a family or a community celebration, and I am embarrassed at
our own society's hypocrisy and scandalous destruction of its children's
lifelong well-being. Even if I can't be there, I would be sorry not to know
the minute my son or daughter enjoyed first sex.

I always gave young girls and boys the same advice Older Girl had given then
Terrific Girl then: that it is best if the boy spends considerable time
kissing and licking his girl's vagina until it is really dilated and moist.
If the girl reaches an orgasm that way first, so much the better. She may
still be in a state of ecstasy when he inserts his penis and she will be
oblivious to any slight pain. Or so it seems to me. Anyway, Terrific Girl's
experience was positive, and it is something she has always been happy to
reminisce about, including her curiosity about the semen dripping out of or
down his penis and from her vagina afterwards. Apparently, and I would say
bizarrely since it was always a focus of interest of every other girl, she
hadn't given much thought to the bodily fluids of sex. Perhaps that was part
of her innocence; anyway later she was more eager than anybody when, in a
group of mixed teen couples thoughts were drawn to sex. She wanted to be
topless even when her breasts hadn't fully developed; she wanted boys to
admire her and she wanted to see her boy with an erection. Like me, she had
a firm opinion on circumcision because she liked to work her tongue all
around her boy's penis, only then stroking its tip and consuming any drops
of seminal fluid that she found. She had a way of extending oral sex so it
lasted forever; bringing the boy up close to ejaculation, then letting him
cool off, playing with him like a puppet on a string until finally he came.
The risk, I suppose, was that he'd be too tired to give her an orgasm,
although in real life that never happened: she knew her rights.

Of course not everything at Mom's Friend's House, nor in our growing up, was
without challenge. Open sex and sexuality do bring jealousies; even if sex
is supposed to be non-competitive and non-adversarial, there will be
grievances. One got sick; as in married life and relationships one did not
want sex all the time, or had cystitis or an infection, or feared pregnancy
although that never happened because our contraceptive regimen was enforced.
The biggest problem, I suppose, was -- as in society and relationships
generally -- boys' unrestrained libido and girls' concern primarily with
romance, and secondarily with hair and appearance rather than pure sex. The
girls were more prone to conspiracies and seduction and surprise. For a
disappointed boy, there was masturbation, and Mom's Friend encouraged -- not
directed or instructed but encouraged -- that from whatever age she first
saw a particular boy sexually aroused. While I did not touch a boy's penis
in any sexual way until I was 11, I know some other girls, even younger,
delighted in fondling a boy of their own age, in experimenting with what
made him hard and what gave him pleasure. That's because they had seen other
boys playing with themselves without restraint; and adolescents at
masturbation and oral and vaginal sex. And why not? I know that children
wondered where the penis went while older people were making love; almost
every kid needed an explanation, basic sex instruction, at some time during
toddlerhood. 

I really don't know why I became sexually active at the particular age I
did; I guess it was just opportunity and realization that the capacity had
been there a while and I had been ignoring it. We often discussed sex in the
evenings in the girls' room, but it was sex in the abstract, encouragement
from Older Girl and some of the others who, I guess, were eager to see us
having fun. The nude dances were pretty much restricted to sexually active
kids, because you had to bring your own date. Once rid of that barrier of
virginity, however, a girl could always be matched with a boy from one of
the communes or houses we had relationships with, and at that point a
teenager's sexual activity would accelerate. The point was to keep sex in
perspective; while I have written these essays centered on sexual activity
it should be obvious that sex was kept in its place. This was more so at
Mom's Friend's House than at the first house, but it was true at both. Girls
generally set the pace because we were taught to say no, or more exactly,
"later". Some boys thought they could retaliate by masturbating on the spot;
I simply found that amusing and I would not allow myself to be insulted,
intimidated or aroused by that kind of showing off. If it brought a boy
tranquility, and me peace, so much the better.

I have tried in these essays to explore the influence the Children of God
and Moses David had on our thinking. Because Mom's and Mom's Friend's
departures from the Church had been years earlier, it's difficult to say.
Mom's Friend had formulated her own philosophy. I know that the Children of
God had substantial activity in Europe, and I know that family-supported
sexual liberty is widespread there, and this must have affected Berg since
it was while he was there that he liberalized the Church's doctrine on sex.
Examining this was not something relevant to my vacation, however, and my
friend wouldn't have been interested. If I get back to Europe, more likely
to northern or eastern Europe, it's something I will look into and perhaps
report on. But not soon. There is, in any event, considerable material on
the Web in this regard, much of it presented as family nudity. In a brief
review of sites, I found that the best argued case accords with my own
impression: that where family nudity, and "sex in front of the children" has
failed or been damaging was because the adults already harbored feelings of
guilt and shame which they subconsciously transmitted. Of course small
children are mystified by the process of puberty -- after all puberty is one
of life's lovely mysteries. That should not give rises to feelings of
inadequacy born of immaturity. It is true that children mature at different
ages. If I was fully developed at 12, there were girls and boys who were not
developed even at 14. In my "missionary period" when I delighted in
introducing boys to sex, there were a couple of boys of 12 or even 13 with
still-undeveloped or only partially-grown penises. If the boy wanted to do
it, to have oral or vaginal sex, that was fine with me. I would say
something nice if he produced enough semen for me to taste and to swallow.
It certainly increased his self esteem to have sex once or twice, even if
that basically turned him to masturbating until he was confident enough to
take the initiative in relating to girls sexually. The point is that, their
stage of physical development aside, the rule was and should be that the
kids must be of approximately the same age and at the same level of mental
and emotional development. Of course I latched on to the 16-Year-Old Boy
because he was older, and his penis was "grand", as I like to describe them.
But a boy who can reach orgasm and thus appreciate what orgasm is for the
girl should not be discouraged from experimenting and asserting himself and
his body to a willing female partner. Being physically immature is not a
handicap or a disability when it is not expected to last forever. And, as I
wrote earlier, Mom's Friend never tolerated one child ridiculing another on
account of physical attributes. Who was it who first wrote that there are 3
billion females in the world, but only 8 super models? I was terribly
interested in how boys' arousal and sexual needs, so much more urgent than
girls' operates. I remember watching little boys who suddenly had awoken to
the concept of what sex means to them, physically and personally, and who
would be studying couples in the throes of sex, or more likely boys just a
little bit older than themselves masturbating, and, I supposed, deciding to
try masturbation themselves. What I enjoyed seeing on those few occasions
was the overwhelming surprise of a little boy in the throes of his first
orgasm. We become complacent later, taking orgasm for granted. But I never
can help feeling bad when I see a spine-damaged person who, I know, can
never, or never again, know that joy. To see a little boy with his eyes
widened in astonished ecstasy is heartwarming. Of course one sees that again
in a boy's first sex, especially his first oral sex; but some of that
surprise, the surprise over the physical intensity, is a one-time event. I
know that orgasm improves with the actual transmission of semen, and that
our pre-pubescent boys would not have that extension of their joy. But the
principle I have set forth remains valid: one can only be totally
overwhelmed by the novelty of the sex act a single time. Our Great White
(House) Leader notwithstanding, the answer to this is not total abstention
before marriage.

I don't envisage having anything more to say about all this soon. But, who
knows, I may one day get the inspiration to "revise and extend" (as they say
in the Congressional Record) my remarks for publication.
http://www.c-span.org/guide/congress/glossary/revise.htm
I may get back to Europe, as I said. And I may encounter some experience
that sheds new light on my past, for myself and for you, if you happen to be
interested. But maybe not. I had intended just to recount here what happened
on my vacation, and I seem to have been carried away by reflection on
earlier times; but that's how life works, isn't it? Note that I have tried
to be consistent in my essays, but for one thing I have been relying on
childhood diaries with lots of gaps, and it's been more important for me to
get the principles of Mom and her friends correctly than the details of how
they were put into practice, many of which I might have forgotten anyway.
I've revived my Hotmail address for a few days, in case anybody takes issue
with something I said; but I can't reply to correspondence.

Love and bye,

Carol

 

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