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From: Carol <cobillard@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} A Boy's Story
Date: Wed,  4 Jun 2003 21:10:04 -0400
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As I promised him when I solicited his essay, I am posting without change
(other than minor editorial correction "for the protection of the innocent")
or further comment a review of my essays written by an old friend from Mom's
Friend's House. A.B. Is not Tucker Max
http://www.tuckermax.com
http://www.nytimes.com/2003/06/02/national/02INTE.html
but his essay is nevertheless worth reading.

Love, 
Carol

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Carol asked me several times last year to provide a male perspective for her
series of essays on her early life, including the years I knew her when she
lived in Mom's Friend's House. I ignored her request, but now, having seen
her later, and probably last, essays I thought better of it. She admits that
her writing has been stylized and facts adjusted to make an interesting
story. I have no quarrel with that, not even with the impression that she
leaves many that we as kids were having sex incessantly, egged on by our
parents as early as age 11. As with most biographies as with most news
articles, there is a kernel of truth there, however embellished and
exaggerated.

It all starts, as she says, with the background of many of the parents in
the Children of God. Whether it was official COG doctrine or not, Mom's
Friend, who owned the house and made the rules and inspired the residents,
equated orgasm with holy communion. She thought therefore that when a child
reached puberty and became of age, it would soon be time for her first
communion. But she also believed in free will and personal autonomy: it was
for the child to come forward. There could be a celebration, as sometimes
happened and as Carol described in her later essays. Or a quiet embrace and
private sex.

Another point left unclear by Carol -- and understandably so -- is that
Mom's Friend's House was a matriarchy with numerous mothers but few fathers
or long-term male partners. More than that, even among the girls just a few
individuals dominated: Older Girl, Carol herself and Terrific Girl most
especially. They may not have coerced others to have sex, but they did
induce them to do so. I shall explain.

I was 12, and while I knew all about sex from watching others, I had neither
the self-confidence nor the physical maturity to chase after girls. Well,
today kids go out earlier, and indeed they seem to have oral sex at age 12,
whatever the size and maturity of the penis. But in those days, I don't know
how long it would have taken me to express myself on my own. In the months
since I had started puberty I avoided the basement and other places where I
would have to take off my clothes. Yet, one day, Carol forced the issue.
There was a girl staying with us, probably about 14. Considering that her
mother had left an abusive relationship it was, in retrospect, rather crude
what Carol and her friends were about to do. The Girl was not among the
brightest about, and yet she did try hard to fit in, to please the others,
to do what they did. And either Carol or Older Girl had convinced her that
she would better fit in if she started having sex the way they did. So there
the girl was in the basement, lying naked on the floor and no adults about
the house, but no eligible teenage boys to service her either.

I was the nerdy type and I was fooling around with an old and obsolete
computer, trying to get it to accomplish something it couldn't do, when
Carol came to fetch me and made me an offer I couldn't refuse. So now I was
in the basement and she was taking off my clothes, and the girls told us to
embrace, told us to explore each other's body. Then told her to lie back and
let me enter her. But I was too nervous to get a hard-on. Carol, the expert
in such things, told me to stand up and she kneeled in front of me. She
licked around my penis, put it in her mouth, and bingo! it was hard. She led
me back to the girl and positioned my penis where it should go, and told me
to push hard in one single stroke. I felt an amazing surge of grace. But as
I penetrated and deflowered her, the girl began to cry and I wondered if I
had done something wrong. The others told me to continue, then suddenly
Older Girl shouted for me to stop, that I had better wear a condom. They got
one, and put it on me, a loose fit. I resumed, but the condom came off and
got lost among the girl's folds of skin. Carol wiped me off with a towel,
searched around for the missing condom, put a second condom on my dried
penis, and I finished up. By then the girl's tears, too, had dried.

Older Girl then told us both that we should also try oral sex, but that I
would have to wait an hour or so. This, she said (quite correctly) is the
ultimate in sexual gratification and the ultimate in female sensuality. When
the girl looked at her blankly, Older girl rephrased it: "Every boy will
want you if you can give head properly."

I had seen how those girls -- the ruling clique of the teenage set -- took
charge of boys' penises. I knew how they got such satisfaction from
displaying an enormous rush of semen from a boy when they gave him a blow
job. I also know I couldn't compete with that. So I wasn't surprised when
within a half hour one of the older boys came home and was enlisted by Carol
to get the blow job instead of me.

Carol and Older Girl sat the boy in a chair, placed forward with his legs
wide apart so his penis and his balls drooped over the edge. And she placed
the girl seated or kneeling in front and told her to grasp the penis and
excite it with her lips and tongue and to take it in her mouth and stroke it
slowly and steadily until he came.

It was a matter of pride and power and saving face among those girls always
to swallow their boy's semen and if possible to show it off too. The girl
must have known that, but it was an impossible task for her. For one thing,
the boy's penis was very big and she had some trouble manipulating it. And
when he did come, she made something of a mess of it. The girls all laughed,
and that made her cry again. This was definitely not one of those beautiful
deflorations where a mother takes her daughter in hand and supports her and
everyone loves her, and the semen dripping out of her vagina and her mouth
makes everyone proud of her. To my mind, although they surely had the girl's
best interests at heart -- wanting her to join them and to have fun with
boys -- the girl clearly wasn't quite ready for it. She was physically
mature, yes, but not emotionally ready. You don't have to have great
intelligence or wit to have sex, even early sex, God knows, but Carol and
the others were trying to reason intellectually with this girl on matters of
sex, and she couldn't see it that way. By then the boy looked a bit
embarrassed, as if he all of a sudden had realized that he'd been used by
the girls for their own purposes and that his blow job hadn't been solely
the initiative of his partner of the moment.

At that point, Carol realized that she had promised me something that had
not been delivered, to wit: a blow job. Or maybe she just wanted to change
the subject, to avoid people thinking what that boy seemed to be thinking,
in a way that didn't reflect well on her. She stood there, nude of course,
her breasts sticking out and her nipples sort of threatening me, her puffy,
hairy vulva at my eye level. (It had been a mystery to me before that hour;
now all of a sudden it was my friend.) She had me sit in the chair where the
other boy had sat, and now she took charge, just the way she had so often
with other 11- or 12- or 13-year-old virgin boys. My penis was again in her
mouth. My penis, I knew, was less sexy, less formidable, less imposing to
look at than that other boy's because it was still not fully grown. And I
knew that especially since I had ejaculated only an hour ago, and without
all that much outcome (so to speak), she wouldn't have much to show off with
me. Still, if a boy was capable of having a hard-on, Carol knew how to give
him one. I concentrated on her breasts, watching them heaving while she took
my penis in her mouth and brought me first to excitement and then, after
what seemed a long, long time, to orgasm. Well, I didn't fill her mouth with
semen to the point of it dripping down her chin, but she expressed
satisfaction as I guess she always did with pubescent boys, since the point
was to wake them up to their own potential. When she finished, there was my
penis, still stiff and upright and still wet with her saliva. She stroked
it, showing it off to the other girls by running her circled finger and
thumb up and down its circumference, and she kissed me on the mouth as she
often did when she'd given a boy a blow job: forcing me to acknowledge her
view that (1) blow jobs are the ultimate expression of girl-control; and (2)
that semen is, giving the lie to the misogynist attitude, not repellant but
a life-giving fluid and a source of ecstasy to girl as well as to boy.

Disappointingly both at the time and in retrospect, whatever the pecking
order had been before, and however little my claim to girls' attention and
access to sex was before that day, remained unchanged. What did change was
that I now felt entitled to invite myself to the occasional dances and
parties -- at least four a year at our place -- and because I lived in Mom's
Friend's House I was automatically entitled to attend those. It was only
outsiders who had to provide their own dates, so my social backwardness, of
that's what it was, would affect me only when I wanted to go to nude dances
in other places, group homes, friends' places and the like.

At our place, because of the way the house was set up, the kids would go
downstairs right away, and if they were already in couples it was customary
for them to undress each other. Of course there wasn't much point in wearing
a lot of clothing, and many kids didn't bother with underwear. These were
precocious teens, carrying themselves sensuously and provocatively. They
felt a certain freedom that they could express themselves sexually even in
front of adults at our place, and even the occasional parents who accepted
an invitation to come in for coffee or a drink would scarcely be surprised
or scandalized by their kids' imminent nudity -- nor the immanent sex. [And
since the average reader of these lines won't bother to look it up, imminent
= soon; immanent = transcendent. -- Carol]

It was, again, the clique of girls politically connected to Mom's Friend who
ran the show, and arranged dates and so on. Obviously every kid who attended
was sexually active or intended to become sexually active on the spot. There
was little room for shyness or embarrassment; I think the fact that one was
being undressed by an expectantly eager partner warmed things up from the
start. It was easy enough to contrive to kneel in front of a partner to
remove shoes and pants, and then to kiss a penis or a vulva.

Carol or her group were, whatever Carol's claims, show-offs and they wanted
not only to see but to be seen, to be excited but to excite others. So, like
it or not there was a sort of competition. I learned that when, after an
hour or so of fast dances they started with the slow dances, I should watch
my girl's eyes and her response to my erection. Even at the first dance I
went to the protocol, the drill, was second nature to me. We were on the
floor and we embraced, we caressed, I felt and fondled my girl's breasts.
Soon I had my fingers between her labia and I leaned over to kiss them; my
tongue rubbed up and down against her clitoris and was inside her vagina.
Then I moved my legs over her head and, just as Carol had promised my penis
was right away taken by the girl into her mouth. That's how I started my
active sex life and it is the most romantic and sharing position I can
imagine. In that position it is up to the girl with her lips and tongue to
respond to the boy's hip movements in brining him to orgasm. The person on
the bottom is less able to signal her or his desires; but I knew from Carol
and the others what I had to do.

Unfortunately, as I learned after I moved away from Our Town, not every
woman and girl is immediately ready to be confronted with a penis over her
mouth. Those who came to Mom's Friend's house were, however, and it shaped
for life my appetite for and my pleasures from sex. Because my tongue in her
vagina so immediately led to my penis in her mouth and to the incredible
excitement and release that followed, I came to look at a girl's vaginal
area as the most beautiful and generous part of her body.

Maturity arrives immutably with time, and as promised I became more socially
desirable and involved. This was, with few exceptions, the home of
intellectuals, and my interest in computers and in classical and country
music was unlikely to be held against me. But still there was a shortage of
eligible girls. My having become more confident and eager to parade about
naked in the basement or the yard was not a substitute for demographics.
Still, most residents stayed only a few months, so there was variety. My Mom
and I stayed just under three years, until her finances recovered from her
bankruptcy and her we got a place of our own. By then the problem of
containment of STDs had forced Mom's Friend's and similar groups and
communes to disinvite outsiders. I didn't think I'd have an easy time with
girls outside the community, and so my social life remained inside the
ex-COG scene even though we ourselves hadn't been members of that cult.
Whatever my original intention -- because like others, perhaps including
readers of Carol's stories and essays, I thought that being 16 and being
involved with Carol and her friends would mean constant opportunity for sex,
romance, orgasm -- it turned out that eight or so dances and parties a year
was it, until I was almost 20. Like most of the group, I went to the
community college for two years because it was cheap, and then I went to the
state university and left Our Town, pretty much for good. In my case it was
perhaps just as well that I stayed at Mom's Friend's House until after I got
my driver's license. However accustomed my Mom may have become to the sight
and the thought of my having sex, I wonder how happy she would have been to
be driving her 14- or 15-year-old here and there with that in mind. As I
never ceased telling my Mom, it is legal in most places for two 16-year-olds
to have sex. Well, not oral sex everywhere, but who's to know.

Before passing judgment on Carol and her essays I want to emphasize that
having a clique of girls in control of things, and especially of sex, is not
all bad. It turns out that girls are more likely to have sex with you if
they know from the beginning they are 100% sure of getting an orgasm of
their own. Older Girl, supported by Mom's Friend, pretty much dictated that
a boy should perform cunnilingus first and foremost on any girl who wanted
it before putting his penis in her mouth or her vagina. There was the odd
girl who would lose interest in the boy after herself reaching climax, but
most girls took a longer-term view of things and didn't want that kind of
reputation. Even a pretty, nude girl can be a wallflower when there is
competition about, when other girls are going down on their dates and the
two of them are obviously enjoying themselves. That, I think, is why Carol
so much wanted her boy to ejaculate visibly, for semen to stream out of the
corner of her mouth while she smiled and looked romantically in her boy's
eyes.

But the "clique" only represented the views of Mom's Friend, and of Carol's
Mom, and Terrific Girl's Dad and others in a position to influence the
emotional environment of the house. As I said, a girl had freedom to choose
whether she wanted sex; and of those who passed through the house, quite a
few watched and learned but never had sex all the weeks or months they were
there. One or two had a defloration, even a fancy defloration, and yet
abstained from sex for months thereafter. It was like having a first
communion and then not going to church for years; although I suppose there's
a limit to that comparison since while one might never go to church again
one was unlikely never to have sex again. Still, although Mom's Friend's
House was, in part, a "safe house" for women and their children, by
self-selection only women who approved of early sex would ever come to stay.
And the environment was such that kids wanted to have sex, and that they
knew when they were physically and emotionally ready. Aside from my opening
story, I don't know any occasions where a girl wound up depressed on the
day. And even her mother seemed pleased enough when she heard the story
later. My own Mom, not really committed to the kind of thinking that Mom's
Friend had but wanting to be sympathetic and grateful to the woman who had
taken her in under difficult circumstances, just assumed that this was the
best for me and for her.

Indeed, I don't think Mom had seen my penis from the time I was, say, 5
years old until I was 12. She was, or pretended, not to be interested,
indeed to be embarrassed by the omnipresence of teen sex. After we'd been
there six months or so she had a boyfriend of her own, someone from within
Mom's Friend's circle, and she got used to be nude. Still, she was reluctant
to respond in public to sexual advances. I know the first time she saw me
with a hard-on she was taken aback and had to control herself. But secretly
she must have taken satisfaction from my rite of passage, even if she wasn't
prepared to discuss it. By the time we left there I understood how a young
boy and girl, grown up in that context, would be happy to have their first
sex, to be deflowered, with their Mom's helping out, even holding the boy's
penis if the occasion should demand. But that would have been impossible,
unthinkable on the day. Only later did I learn, and I think force my Mom to
accept, that the dance of life (as Carol herself might describe it) of penis
made stiff, then welcomed into a young girl's mouth and vagina, differs only
in degree from holding hands; that the outrage at public displays of
affection results from guilt borne of false prophets and false religion and
false psychology. I came to appreciate that, for example, at our dances if a
girl was undressing me and I could not produce a hard-on for her when she
lowered my pants, she might take that as an insult. If she kissed the tip of
my penis it meant that she loved it and that she acknowledged my lust for
her, mind and body. And that she would want and expect to see and feel and
know more of me and it later on. As of course I would of her. In due course
my Mom got used to my -- in effect -- taunting her with my erections and my
talking to her while I was receiving a blow job, even if that wasn't quite
fair to the girl in question. But, as I told her, it is good for parents and
kids to be together in the nude and to be visible when having sex: it
reminds the parents of how they once were, and it reminds the kids of how
they inevitably will be. If we have kids because we want grandchildren, we
want posterity, then it is that we want our kids to have sex and we should
be proud of that, not ashamed.

So, given all of that background, how do I judge Carol's year of telling
all? She is, first and foremost, a storyteller and she has had to make her
story readable and interesting. Clearly she didn't plan her entire series in
advance, because like any storyteller she would commit herself to a fact
that, while convenient at the time, would force her to stray from truth and
accuracy the more she went on. I don't think it matters whether she got
girls' and boys' ages exact; my impression is that she rounded down, so that
ages are given as about a year younger than they were in fact. At the end
she dwells, perhaps too heavily, on the involvement of parents. But this is
something that to outsiders is so unbelievable, even unacceptable, that I'm
not surprised. As I said, this was an element of their religious belief and
has to be accepted as that. Her story of Jeremiah takes that to extremes:
defloration as entry to God's presence and God's jurisprudence. Certainly
after two or three years at Mom's Friend's House I had long ceased to be
surprised by youngsters (or for that matter their parents) becoming
intimate, then remembering, half-clothed, that they should move outside or
downstairs. Or a girl, in mid sentence, responding to a boy's erection with
her mouth, then perhaps lying back for him to reciprocate or to penetrate. I
guess boys were more inclined than girls to stare at a penis during its
vaginal excursion, in and out. But public sex is sensual and arousing and,
indeed, catching. Those were sexy times.

I agree with Carol, however, that the guilty-until-proven-innocent in
matters of pedophilia mean that the kind of life we led then is impossible
today and in the future. Even if it's thoroughly natural. It is not so much
that the child is blamed for having sex (although that could be the case in
some states), but the parent for having led or allowed the child to do so,
or having allowed her/him to grow up in an environment open enough so that
she/he would want to. Well, the crime against nature is the modern antipathy
to kids doing what comes naturally, and contriving to be astonished at their
doing it. If we can admire a face, or breasts, in public: on the beach, in
the movies, at a topless party (of which I've been to many), then why can't
we take satisfaction in the inevitable result and recognition via a boy's
penis? The hypocrisy of naturism, as Carol suggests (however obliquely) is
clear: it's just more political correctness.

For me, today, and I think for Carol too while she's in the "Capital City",
the issue is how far we go in revealing our past to others. Most, perhaps
nearly all, the kids I knew at Mom's Friend's House and whom I met and had
fun with at the dances and parties live conventional lives now. In the 60s,
and perhaps even the 70s, Reaganism and its money-oriented values had not
consumed us. Our parents could not conceive of billionaires, could not
aspire to being an Enron executive thief, denuding others' pensions for
their own obscene profit. But the era of social welfare and social concern
is gone. Shortsightedly even public health and education are being
impoverished, as if the rich beneficiaries of the Bush tax holiday were not
equally susceptible to SARS, to crime in the streets, to the ugliness,
nastiness and greed of the laissez-faire, monopoly-friendly state.

A.B.

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