Jack Benjamin

The Paths Of Incest

Chapter 1

THE INCESTUAL FATHER

Many experts state flatly that the most common form of incest is that which takes place between father and daughter. They point out that age has a great deal to do with this type of incest, for most father-daughter incest takes place at the point where the girl is approaching puberty and continues to be prevalent when girls are in their early teens. Once incest has been committed, the girl usually breaks off the relationship when she is exposed to the normal world of boy-girl relationships, or when she realizes that it is unnatural, or finds it personally or morally distasteful. However, a great many cases of mutually pleasing father-daughter incest are disrupted and terminated when the wife-mother discovers the situation. Seldom does the father involved, voluntarily end the relationship.

The other common form of incest is that between brother and sister; yet, this usually occurs when both or one of the partners are too young to understand the act and most experts state that the incest is merely in the form of experimentation or child sex play, and is discontinued when one or the other of the parties reaches the age of understanding or puberty, and begins to feel the normal attractions to the opposite sex.

The first case history involves an attractive woman who had fled into lesbianism and, finding it unfulfilling, sought psychiatric help.

Marie came to a psychiatrist who uses hypno-therapy on difficult cases. She had been married for four years; had two sons, and had felt no sexual attraction for her husband since dating in college. She had several affairs with different men in hopes of finding sexual gratification. Failing, she found herself involved in a torrid, but one-sided lesbian relationship with a neighbor. She eventually found this distasteful, because she found no sexual joy or fulfillment in it, and sought professional help. Here then, is Marie's story, condensed, but complete:

When I first dated Tom, I liked him. I wanted sex with him, but I wanted him to think I was a virgin. But most of all, I guess I didn't want him to know that I hadn't been a virgin since I was eleven years old, or that it was my father who had busted my cherry and first fucked me. (The notes of the psychiatrist state that as she admitted this, an unconscious look of pleasure came to Marie's face.)

It started when my mother was in the hospital. She was there for three weeks. I was taking a bath one night, and, finding no towel there, I called for my daddy to bring me one. When he came into the bathroom, and saw me standing there, he just stared hard at my little titties and my almost hairless box. I knew that I was beginning to have the shape of a woman. My breasts were beginning to take form and the nipples were already standing out, pink and pretty. I had a little pubic hair, but it was so light that it didn't cover the lips of my cunt. It was blonde, and only showed in the right light. I hadn't started to menstruate yet, but my mother told me to expect it soon, after I told her about a strange feeling I got around the same time each month. We had talked about sex in a vague way-about how babies come, and about not letting boys put their hands on my breasts or my "peeper" as I called it then.

I wasn't embarrassed at all, standing there naked, with my father looking at me. I was proud, in a way, that I was becoming a woman, and that he seemed so enthralled with my body. I suppose I even shoved out my pelvic area a little. I stood straight and breathed deep, so he could see how nice my breasts were getting. (NOTE: Many psychiatrists state that a female is at her most sexually aggressive stage between the ages of twelve and sixteen. Marie was, at that time, only three weeks away from her 12th birthday.) He handed me the towel and I could see the front of his pants start to bulge. I knew what was happening to him. I had a boy cousin who had played with my cunt, and then taken out his prick and I saw what a hard on looked like. He had made me take it in my hand and jerk it a little. I remembered how I had enjoyed it, in a way, but I'd been afraid to let him put it in my box.

I didn't take the towel. I asked my daddy to dry me all over. He had often dried my hair, but that was when I had on my pajamas. He was gentle, especially when he dried my breasts. Then he began to dry me between the legs and the cheeks of my ass, and he suddenly went wild… he began to kiss my breasts and my stomach, then he kissed my mouth and stuck his tongue deep into it. It was like a lightning bolt had hit me. I went all afire. I didn't really know what I wanted from him, but I knew I wanted a lot of something he was doing. At last, he put his finger inside my cunt. I must have been hot, because I think I had a sort of "come" right then. I put my hand on his, guiding his finger to the right spot and moving with his motion. All the while, he was kissing my mouth and my breasts, my neck and stomach.

He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom-my bedroom-and laid me on the bed. He took off his pants and I could see his prick, big and throbbing. I knew he wanted me to touch it and I wanted to. I didn't know what to do, so I just rubbed it. Then he put his hand behind my head and gradually pushed my head down. He never said a word, but I knew he wanted me to put it in my mouth. I wanted to, all of a sudden-more than anything. When I did, it seemed awfully big, but in a second, it seemed, it felt good. In a few strokes, he came in my mouth. I don't know what happened, but I think I came too, although he wasn't doing anything but rubbing my nipple.

He spread my legs and put his tongue in my-cunt. I don't know how many times I had an orgasm, and the next thing I knew, he was naked, and his thing was all hard again. I thought he wanted me to put it in my mouth, but instead, he put it inside me. It didn't hurt. After a minute, it began to feel good, like when he had used his finger and his mouth. I knew he came inside me, because he changed suddenly. After he did, he jumped up and began to give me wild instructions about getting to the bathroom and taking a douche. Then he began to cry. I didn't know what I had done. I knew later that he was guilt-laden and terrorized at the thought of what he'd done to me. But I didn't feel bad. I felt good. Later, lying in bed, I masturbated, thinking about all the wonderful feelings he had given me. I remember thinking how wonderful it would be from now on.

But it wasn't. (A look of pain came to her face.) He was too scared, I guess. I tried. Every time we were alone, I asked him if he didn't want to do it to me again, but he wouldn't. Once, I sat on his lap and unzipped his pants, while I stuck my tongue into his mouth. He slapped me across the cheek and dumped me off. Later, I peeked into his bedroom and saw him masturbating. I watched him and stood right there and masturbated myself. I opened the door and tried to get on the bed with him, but he screamed at me to get out, and to stop being a sneaky brat.

When I was thirteen, I coaxed a boy to do it to me, but he was all thumbs-he didn't know any of the things I wanted. When I asked him to use his tongue, he got panicky and left.

At fourteen, I began going with this fellow who was 20. He looked younger, and my parents thought he was about 17. I taught him all the things that I liked, and we got along fine. Then, I got pregnant. My mother was furious, but my father seemed to blame himself-maybe because he had refused to have sex with me all the times I had coaxed him. But, my father took care of everything, and after the abortion, we started having sex again-only this time, he always used a rubber when we really screwed.

For five years, I didn't even want another man. I dated, but they were just dates-lots of necking, but nobody got me going like daddy, so I always wound up going home to him. We fixed up a place in the garage, and he'd sneak out and meet me. Neither of us knew how much my mother suspected us. The night she caught us was the last time I had sex with my father. We went the whole route that night, never suspecting that my mother was watching the whole thing. I went down on him first, then he did the same for me. Then, we got each other ready again by masturbating and kissing. Just as my father put the rubber on, and I was stretched out with my legs spread, my mother came storming in. She'd been watching through the window. My daddy and I always liked a light on-I still do. She surprised both of us by what she did. She grabbed a piece of wood and began hitting my daddy on the genitals and stomach with it. She finally knocked him out. I remember I was frozen, at first. Then I saw him lying there, big welts and bruises on his stomach and legs. I went after my mother with feet, fists, teeth and nails, and drove her out of the garage.

She called the police. They arrested my father and she pressed charges. The law is funny about incest, because all he got was a forced session with psychiatrists. My mother got a divorce and sold the house. Six months after that, I met Tom. He was a nice, easygoing guy, and I let him have me after about four dates. But it just wasn't any good.

I asked him to take me away for a weekend to a motel, hoping he would loosen up-kiss me all over, want anal intercourse-let me kiss him until he came. All he wanted was the straight "on top" deal, and it bored me to tears. I didn't even have an orgasm.

He felt he had to propose, after that, I guess. I was at loose ends, working part time, so I decided to give it a try. It never did work. When I tried to kiss his cock, he got insulted and called me a "perverted cocksucker." Later, I asked him to put his tongue inside my cunt, to get me worked up, and he slapped me and called me a dirty slut. It took a long time for us to work it out. He never did give in. I had to. I just learned to accept the dull, old-fashioned way of sex-never more than twice a week. I used to masturbate a lot. I guess I got horny, because I let a lot of guys know that I was dying for some real sex. One day, a salesman must have seen it in my eyes, because he came at me like an animal. He really raped me. It made me throw up all over him. He begged me not to do anything, and I didn't.

I tried to pick up guys, picking the ones I thought would be gentle and thorough-the way daddy had been. None of them were. Funny, but when I masturbated, I didn't think of daddy anymore-I used to dream of Tom, my husband, doing all the wild things to me that I had come to like so much. We had moved to another town, and I hadn't seen my mother or father for years. In fact, they hadn't even seen the kids. Then one day, there was my daddy at the door. He looked old and tired. Maybe I didn't look so hot, either. I didn't feel much of anything, at first. He didn't either-except embarrassment. He asked me how it was going between Tom and I, and he knew I was lying when I told him "fine." I had a housecoat on-nothing underneath. I knew I was showing a lot-maybe I was deliberately trying to tease him. Anyhow, he came over after awhile and kissed me. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and put his hand on my breast, and I started to respond again. Then, Tommy junior started to cry, from the bedroom. My father got a funny look on his face, turned white and left. He never has seen either of the kids.

After that, I had a quickie affair with an older man about my daddy's age, that worked with Tom, but he was like a teen ager-he didn't know anything about pleasing a woman, and when Tom almost caught us one night, he never showed up again. I guess I was a little too hot for him. I could never get his prick hard the second time, even when I sucked it furiously. I used to assume all the erotic positions I could think of, to show him my wide-open, hungry cunt, and he would try, but he just wasn't any good for a second time, while I was just beginning to warm up after the first orgasm.

I used to masturbate in front of him, using a weiner or even a candle, but it didn't do anything for him. Besides, all he ever wanted was the same thing Tom did-me on the bottom, him on top, and not even using his finger to massage my ass-hole.

I had even tried to get Tom to put it in my ass, but he got so disgusted that he wouldn't speak to me for two weeks.

Then I met Adele, next door. She was having a problem with her "girl friend," (I found out later) and she made no bones about being a lesbian. She had waited until she was sure Tom and I weren't getting along. She came over one morning, right after Tom left for work. I was still in my housecoat, with nothing on under it. Adele was attractive, in a hard, mannish way, and she just walked in when I invited her, looked around, saw that the kids were still in bed, and she went after me. She put her arms around me and kissed me hard, sticking her tongue in my mouth, her hands caressing my ass cheeks. I admit, it shocked me but it excited me also. When she moved one hand around and began massaging my cunt, she brought me alive. I was so starved for some sex that I was desperate. She knew it, somehow, and she stripped off my robe, knelt in front of me and began putting her tongue inside my cunt. I liked it, and had a quick orgasm. Then we went into the living room and she got undressed and she went to work on me again. This time, she kissed my ass-hole, my thighs and breasts, and by the time she got around to sucking and licking my cunt, I must have come five times inside three minutes. Remember, I hadn't had that for a long, long time. I used to love my daddy to do that, and Tom had always refused.

I guess I'm not a real lesbian, though, because when it came my turn to go down on Adele, I couldn't do it. I could only masturbate her and managed to kiss her breasts; but I couldn't put my tongue inside her cunt. She didn't smell clean, for one thing, and I was always a nut on that-daddy had told me that nothing would drive a man away from cunnilingus like a bad-smelling body. I used to wash there at least three times each day, and I took a douche a couple of times each day. We kept trying, but it was frustrating for Adele. I could always come, several times each session, but I couldn't give her what she needed. I even threw up a couple of times, after I had managed to kiss the lips of Adele's cunt. Finally, she got disgusted and didn't come around, and eventually, she found herself a new friend who moved right in with her.

Meanwhile, she had worked me up so much with her cunnilingus that I was begging Tom, without shame or decency, to kiss my cunt. It only drove him further away, and I kept on trying to have affairs with men. When I did seduce them, it was the same old "Tom way"-straight, dull fucking. I finally began to wonder if my daddy was the only real, all-round fucker in the world, or if I was a real "weirdo" in the sex game. So I decided to get some help.

My problem, though, is not that I want to change. To be honest, what I want is to find a man like my daddy, who isn't afraid to do anything to please a woman and bring her to climax. I don't think I'm hung up on my father-just on the wonderful variety of sex that he practiced. I want a man to treat me like he did, sexually.

That's why I'm here. I want Tom to be a man, but he isn't. I don't want a divorce-I don't think I do, at least. But I've got to have sex-wild, complete, satisfying sex-or I'll go out of my mind.

In consultation with two other licensed psychiatrists, the therapist concluded that the answer lay in deep consultations with her husband, Tom. At her request, he was allowed to hear the tapes. He then underwent several consultations with the psychiatrists and agreed to try to ban the inhibitions he had about Marie's way of gaining sexual satisfaction.

It wasn't easy, and eventually, Tom underwent six months of hypnotherapy with one of the psychiatrists. He had been brought up in a Victorian-minded family, where sex was never discussed, and was generally thought of as sinful or dirty-more or less a necessary evil. Eventually, Tom was able to satisfy Marie's needs in part. At the last report, they were still married and the radiant smile on Marie's face was entirely different from the somber countenance which she wore when she first appeared at the psychiatrist's office. The prognosis for this couple is good, but only because Marie found the kind of man who loved her enough to try to change his sexual thinking and inhibitions. In the doing, he confided to the psychiatrist, he had entered into sexual delights that he had never dreamed possible. Edith was a completely different type of person, and came from an entirely different background from Marie's. Her mother was a waitress and both her parents indulged in a lot of extramarital sex from the time she could remember. The home was a hotbed of hatred. Why her parents stayed together, Edith could never figure out, unless it was from a sadistic thrill in tormenting one another.

Her mother made good tips and wages, while her father was a jack-of-all-trades who worked on a hit-and-miss basis and who spent his off hours in boozing. All the sex education Edith ever got was in the form of threats from both parents.

"You get yourself pregnant, you don't come running home to us," her mother liked to repeat. "Save it for the guy you hook," was a favorite saying of her father's.

When she was thirteen, Edith allowed a boy to have sexual intercourse. Green as they both were, it was a frightening experience for both, and an unsatisfactory one for Edith, as far as any pleasure or climax went. She spent weeks worrying whether or not she would become pregnant, envisioning herself as a suicide if she should rather than face the wrath of her parents.

On five occasions, Edith saw her mother in a parked car, almost in front of their shabby home, having intercourse with another man. She came to hate her mother with a venom. She viewed her mother as sanctimonious-warning her about "giving it away" while she was committing adultery almost under her father's nose. Not that she thought too highly of her drunken father; but, at least, to Edith's knowledge, he wasn't a sexual cheat.

She came to a hypno-therapist at age 18, after serving six months in a detention home for juveniles. She was sincere and seemingly wanted to be helped out of the sexual rut into which she had fallen. Her crime had been prostitution. A kindly judge had, upon her second arrest for prostitution, agreed to grant her probation on condition that she seek medical and psychiatric help, after he had heard part of her sordid story.

In her own words, transcribed from taped hypnotherapy sessions, is Edith's story.

I hated my mother. I guess I always hated her. I'd go to the homes of other girls and see how kind and sweet and understanding their mothers were, and I grew to hate my mother. Almost as if she weren't even my mother. I even asked my father one time, if I was adopted-I just couldn't see how I could have come from that person.

I thought I might as well play the same game. I started dating when I was fifteen. I don't know if I was what you'd call sexy, but I didn't try to stop any boy who tried to go all the way. It didn't do much for me, either way. I don't think I ever had an orgasm. I always made the guy use a rubber, so I didn't have that to worry about. I'm not a beauty, but I've got a nice body and I dance good.

I started drinking when I was 17. I liked it. All at once, I discovered what booze did for my father-it made the world fade into the background, or look halfway livable. I started going with older fellows-25 or so, and they always wanted to make out.

I got high this one night, and when the guy I was with tried to do it in the car, I got mad. I wanted to, all right, but I was sick and tired of running and hiding about it. My father was out and my mother was still working, so I took the guy inside. We got right down to cases on the front room couch.

We didn't hear anything, I guess, because the first thing we knew, the light snapped on and there was my mother, looking like she was going to have a heart attack. The guy jumped off me and ran-didn't even bother to put his pants back on.

It would have been funny, except for my mother. She grabbed the first thing that was handy-the belt of the guy who had just ran out-and began to beat the living hell out of me. I tried to cover up, but she cut my breasts and stomach; then when I rolled over and balled up, she laid my back and butt wide open. She was out of her mind-I think because she saw for the first time, what she was encouraging by her own slutty actions. Next thing I knew, my father came in. He stood there, looking at me, stark naked, welts and blood all over me-crying my heart out. It wasn't shame-it was plain, hellish pain.

He stepped up and snatched the belt from my mother. Then he hit her across the mouth and knocked her down. He kept on hitting her until she crawled out of the house. Then he did a funny thing. He was crying, and he came over to where I was lying on the couch, watching the battle-or beating, I guess you'd call it-and he began kissing the welts on my breasts, then on my stomach. Finally, he rolled me over and gently kissed every spot on my back and my butt, where my mother had hit me.

He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom. He began to apologize-not for her-but for himself. He kept calling me "my baby," and kissing my breasts and gradually working down over my stomach until he was kissing me between the legs, his tongue in my cunt.

Believe it or not, it was the first time a man had been gentle with me. I could feel myself getting hot. I wanted him to keep on kissing me, and I let him know it. I grabbed his head and held his mouth to my cunt, and I think that when I came that time, it was the first real orgasm I had ever had. By then, he wouldn't stop. He kept on, and meantime, he was kneading and clawing my breasts and my buttocks, driving me right back into that insane desire for an orgasm.

That night, I slept in his bed and we had sex all the way. It was the same with him-gentle but good. He was like a young man with a bride. He used his dick like an instrument of pleasure. . My mother came back only to pack her few clothes. She moved in with some dishwasher she'd been passing it out to, I guess. We never saw her again-ever.

For two months, I couldn't get enough sex with my pop, and he was the same. He taught me how to perform fellatio, and when he put his tongue in my cunt and inside my ass-hole, it only made me want more of him inside me. He missed a lot of work and I quit school. I never did good nor did I like school. Then, he had a heart attack.

I had to get help and then go to work. He was told to take it completely easy for six months. I went to work as a waitress. I didn't know anything else, since I'd been a flop in school. I didn't mind, on good days. But when I wouldn't make much, he seemed so forlorn-so sorry that he was a burden. I'd try to soothe him with sex-but he was more apologetic than ever, because he couldn't give me the wild finishes that he'd used to be able to.

He had a second attack and had to go to the hospital. He didn't have any medical insurance. All he had was what I made. When they gave me the bill after the first week, and called me into the office to ask about payment, I got desperate.

I worked for an old guy-not as old as my father, but not much younger. He'd played grabass and "feel day" with me at work, and I knew he was hot for me. I just came right out and told him-fifty bucks and he has me all night. He went for it. Then he propositions me about taking on a couple of his buddies. I did. That's when the cops got into the act. The one guy stays all night, then gives me ten and says he owes me the other forty. I raised hell. I guess I was pretty drunk, too. I chased him out into the street and somebody called the cops. When they got there, he claimed I had picked him up on the street and propositioned him. While I was serving six months, my old man died.

When I came out, I was stupid enough to go right back and ask my old boss for a job. He gave it to me-on condition that he slept with me at least twice a week-for free. I thought "to hell with that noise, Jack," and just went out on the street. That's when the judge sent me here.

The hatred she had formed for her mother also tended to throw Edith farther to the side of male attention and tenderness. In later hypnotic sessions, Edith grudgingly faced the fact that when she committed incest with her father, she was "getting even" and punishing her mother, for her own lack of affection toward her daughter.

Girls-and often, boys, who are deprived of real love and understanding in their formative years, seeing their parents come together for only one purpose-sexual gratification-almost automatically equate love with the sex act. This is what happened to Edith, for the greater part. As she matured, she realized that sex cannot be love, although it can be an important part of the fulfillment of love.

She straightened out, took a job as a sales clerk, went to night school and got her high school diploma, and eventually became a successful commercial artist with a large department store. At the last visit to the therapist, she announced happily that she was going to be married. Her vibrant words are worth thinking about, in connection with the wanton actions of this girl as a teenager, and in light of her arrests as a prostitute.

"And you know what?" she beamed, "I've been going with Al for over four months now, and I haven't slept with him yet! Can you imagine that-from a gal like me?"

Yes, it is understandable, for at long last, Edith had given sex its rightful place in her life; as an adjunct to what is basically a warm, outgoing personality. The psychologists are in agreement that, barring unforeseen setbacks, Edith will emerge as a totally competent, sexually healthy wife, and enjoy a happy marriage.

"After all, a pussy is still a pussy-even your own kid's-"

This has been the conclusion of many a father who has succumbed to the desire for sex with his own daughter. To make this study of incest more full, we would be remiss not to include the personal story of a male who desires sexual intercourse with his own daughter. like most cases of this type, Bill's ended tragically for all members involved. It is natural, psychologists tell us, for the ego to protect the individual. This is the job of the subconscious; thus, it tends to make us blame others when we slip up. However, a check of the facts in Bill's case showed them to be substantially true. In studying his taped sessions in therapy, there could be found little self-pity. He seemed able to face himself for what he was, a father who enjoyed incest with his lusty daughter. When he faced a morals charge for the third time, Bill was ordered to obtain immediate psychiatric treatment. Bill admitted that he was hooked on young girls after his incestuous relations with his own daughter, age ll. In the narration of his case history, many taped sessions have been condensed in order that the reader might better understand this man's feelings and his dilemma of sex. I was 24 when I shipped out for Korea. I'd had dates, and on most of them, I wound up in bed with the broad. Normally, I liked my fucking plain. Oh-maybe once in awhile, I'd get the girl to get on her hands and knees and let me stick it in her box from the back-but never in the ass. I had no desires that way, though a lot of guys seemed to think that was a real ball. I never did have a girl suck me off. A kid did once, when I was 10, but that's all. And I never fooled with little girls, after I was 10 or so-just kid stuff.

I was running around with Linda when I was in boot camp in California, but not steady. She dated a lot of other guys, I know. I'd been in Korea a couple of months when she told me she was pregnant. I sent her money and told her we'd be married when I got back. But when I got back, she was living in Seattle, shacked up with a sailor. I went up there and wanted to see the baby. (He had shown a picture of his daughter previously, and her features were a carbon copy of his own). All I had to do was take one look at Virginia, to know who her father was. She looked just like me and I fell in love with her at that moment.

It took some doing-Linda was drinking pretty good, too-but I finally convinced her that we should get married, for Ginny's sake. I guess I knew in my heart that the marriage didn't have a chance, but like I said, I was so crazy over Ginny-.

Things didn't get much better. We came back to California and I got a pretty fair job in an electronics plant. Linda was still hitting the bottle, and I suspected-sleeping around. But she seemed to take good care of Ginny, and it sort of made up for what I missed from the rest of my marriage. Our sex fell off to almost nothing. I went for one spell for over five months without having any sex from Linda. I was a pretty healthy, normal guy that way, and it bothered me. It got me mean, and I began to drink way too much. Linda would take off for bars almost every night. Half the time, I'd drink myself numb, see that Ginny was fed and put to bed, and then tumble into bed myself. I used to have nightmares and crying jags, and as Ginny got older, she began to be pretty hep to what was going on.

She was 10, then, and when I'd cry out in my sleep or drunken stupor, she would come and get into bed with me and put her arms around me and soothe me-almost like a grown woman. It got to be almost every night. Linda and I had some dillies of arguments over it, when she'd come home at three or four and find Ginny in bed with me-often, I'd be stark naked.

One night, I told her point blank that she was either going to begin giving me my regular "ass" or I was going to take Ginny and get out. We didn't know that Ginny was still awake and watching, but Linda, half drunk, stripped naked and showed me teeth marks on her breasts and stomach.

"You want second helpings, Sarge," she yelled. "You want what's left over after a real man got through?"

I hit her pretty good, and she left. I was sober, by then, and when I went back to bed, I heard Ginny crying. I went in to see what was the matter and she threw her arms around my neck and cried, over and over-"You can have my ass, daddy. You can have any of me."

I guess I began to notice for the first time that she wasn't a baby anymore. Her breasts were beginning to swell, and there was the faintest trace of hair beneath her arms and around her pussy. It was a cute little box, with nice full lips and it hardened my cock. I told her to go to sleep, that everything would be all right, but I tossed and turned all night, remembering the sight of her budding body and her child-like offer. She was awake also, and towards daylight, she came in and sat on the bed. With the openness of a kid, she asked right out, what I meant when I'd told Linda that I wanted my "ass." I tried to put her off, but she was pretty wise, like most kids are before you realize it. She told me she had heard about fucking, and other things, and wanted to know if that was what I meant. I couldn't answer her. I was shocked, I suppose. Then it dawned on me that maybe some boy had tried it with her, and I got sort of mad. I grabbed her and shook her, and asked her if any boy had ever put his hands between her legs, or had tried to put his thing inside her. She told me that no boy had, but that one of the men teachers at school had held her on his lap once, and had tried to put his finger inside her. She had been scared, but said it had felt "tickley."

I got so mad I cried, and that shook her up. She put her arms around me again and kissed my lips, telling me that she didn't mean to make me cry. Then, I began kissing her-first her neck and shoulders, then her breasts and her stomach. I was astounded at the way she responded to it, returning kiss for kiss, putting her tongue in my mouth, panting and rubbing her hands over my hard, throbbing prick. I was too scared to try to have intercourse, but I performed cunnilingus and masturbated her with my fingers. She masturbated me, in a rough sort of way and I remember how embarrassed I was when I had an ejaculation in her hand. When it was over, she laid there, smiling at me-glad that she had made me happy that we had shared something new, and to her, adventurous.

I felt guilty and hated myself and promised that I'd never touch her again. Linda stayed away for three weeks, that time, and every night, in spite of my fighting myself, Ginny and I slept together-never having real intercourse, but performing everything short of it for each other. I began to go crazy, wanting to enter her with my penis, and I knew I had to do something soon, before it ended in tragedy.

Linda came home, stayed for one night-long enough to fill Ginny with a bunch of crap that she didn't understand-then she took off for good, though I didn't know it then. But that night, I went all the way with Ginny. It's hard to talk about it, but I've got to. I started out as usual, performing cunnilingus and at the same time, masturbating myself. After a few minutes, I felt Ginny pulling me on top of her, withdrawing my mouth from her body. I guess maybe she had been wondering for a long time what it would be like-just as I had. I remember clearly that I put my finger inside her pussy, feeling all around, wondering if she was big enough for my cock. I didn't want to hurt her, but I wanted her so badly-worse than I'd ever wanted her mother, or any other woman, for that matter. That hot, wet pussy was driving me insane.

I had sense enough to get some vaseline from the bathroom and I coated my prick heavily with it and rubbed some in Ginny's vagina. It was easier that I thought it would be. Ginny winced a little, then urged me on in. It was like I'd never even had another woman. It was-skyrockets, cool water, heavenly skies-it was perfect! My own daughter was the most exciting fuck I'd ever had! Ginny seemed to enjoy it too, except for the last few thrusts as I was coming. I guess I got carried away and went in a little too far. Funny, but I never thought of pulling out, or about her getting pregnant-not that time.

I left it in her and asked her if anything had happened for her. She said "a little," but not as good as when I masturbated her or kissed her pussy lips and put my tongue inside her. But, she said it would be better next time, that she'd try harder to keep up with my movements.

When she said that, it woke me up to what I had actually done. Intercourse with my own daughter! Somehow, the other hadn't bothered me like this. Oh, I felt guilty, but I justified it because I really hadn't done any physical harm to her, and she had enjoyed it also.

Ginny bled a little, and that worried me, but she was all right the next morning-a little sore, she said, but happy that we had really gone all the way.

I was only working part time, and I was home one day when a girl friend of Ginny's came over. Ginny was still at school, and this kid asked if she could wait. I felt edgy-this girl was about 13, and had fully shaped breasts and rounded hips and good legs, like a woman. And she was a sexy thing, sitting there on the couch, letting me see her panties. I carried on some awkward conversation about her and Ginny's school work, then told her to turn the TV on, that I had to do up some dishes. She jumped up and said she'd do them for me, and I let her. I studied her, the way she kept looking at me, but I didn't touch her. When she had finished, she walked up to me and looked up at me like I've seen Korean prostitutes look, and she said: "Is there anything else you want, before I go?"

Those breasts jutting out, that mouth half open-I just grabbed her and began kissing her and feeling her up. She was as hot as a firecracker. I remember, when I was taking her panties off in the bedroom, asking her if she'd ever done this before, and she laughed and said "Lots of times." After I got into her, I knew she wasn't lying she was no expert, but it sure wasn't her first time with sex. I know she came when I did, and she wanted to go again, but I had begun to panic by then. This one, I kept thinking, is old enough to have a baby! She got dressed just before Ginny arrived, and I knew by the glances they exchanged that this girl friend was going to blab to my daughter just as quickly as she could, what had happened.

That night, I had Ginny again, and after we'd finished, she asked me if I had had her girl friend that afternoon. I couldn't lie to her for the life of me, but I apologized all over the place, just as if Ginny were my wife and I'd been unfaithful. Ginny just shrugged it off, but I couldn't. I was worried sick that the girl would become pregnant, and I avoided her for weeks when she came around.

Then, one night, in walked Linda with two detectives and a warrant for my arrest! She was clever. She caught Ginny and me in bed, stark naked-in fact, we had just finished intercourse and it was obvious to anyone with eyes. They took Ginny to juvenile hall and me to jail. When they questioned Ginny, she went all to pieces and blabbed the whole thing-including the episode with her girl friend. I never blamed her, poor little thing. What a hell of a world her mother and I had made for her.

Later, after his sentence had been served, Bill went out of town and got a job as a gas station attendant. Ginny had been put in a foster home after the court had refused to give custody to Linda.

Much later in his therapy, Bill confessed to deep, bothersome longings to have intercourse with girls-not mature girls or women-but girls between the age of his daughter and her girl friend. He tried prostitutes, but found that because of his sexual hang-up, he could not get an erection.

Then one night, in this small town where he had gone, Bill seduced a girl in the gas station, when she came in to get a bottle of pop from the vending machine. Fortunately, Bill snapped out of it before he had intercourse with the child, or had even molested her. He locked the station after the frightened girl had fled, not even taking his salary due, and fled in the clothes he was wearing. After a month of actual bumming, he returned to the Los Angeles area. He got a job, and his first pay period, began taking psychiatric treatments.

At this writing, the prognosis for Bill is clouded. He has admitted during therapy sessions that he has tried hanging around homosexual bars, desperately seeking the answer to his sexual hang-up. He has been as unsuccessful with homosexuals as he has been with mature women. Meantime, he has had himself sterilized, feeling that this might at least allay his fears of impregnating a young girl.

When he finally returned to the hypno-therapist, it was to learn to master self-hypnosis. He wants to implant the idea in his mind that he cannot ever again get an erection with any female but a fully matured woman.

Questioning a prominent hypno-therapist of long standing respect in the area, we were assured that this might be Bill's answer, if he goes about the self-help intelligently and seriously. The hypnotist explained that the subconscious (with which hypnosis deals) will not be fooled. That is, Bill will have to use logic and reason in his conscious thinking that will be adapted and acted on by his subconscious.

From all indications, he will do this. Bill has now joined a social club for older adults and is at the present time, at least removing himself from temptation. He lives in an apartment building which does not allow children, works steadily and seems to be on his way to a normal, adult sex life.

Bill cannot, by court ruling, see his daughter except while she is in the company of her foster parents, in their home. He has not as yet gained enough self-confidence to attempt even such a visit.

Seduction is a two-way street

The story of Al and his daughter, Marge, is much more typical than most persons might think, and, for this reason, it merits inclusion here.

Al is typical of many incestuous fathers in that he is a well-to-do, middle class, family man who seems to have been caught in the maelstrom of changing sexual mores. Perhaps thirty years ago, in the same economic and social structure, Al might never have been involved in incest, but that is at best, a supposition. Al was an engineer who made a fine salary, had a good home, cars, country club membership-the symbols of the affluent life of the middle-class American today. Al was also the victim of some rapidly changing sex patterns with which he was unable to cope. His wife, an attractive, shapely vibrant and intelligent woman, had begun to have casual affairs from the time she no longer had to work-particularly after their daughter, Melody, entered school. like many other women, Valerie found life boring. She tried to be content with the usual neighborhood functions, PTA meetings, and with her home life, but she couldn't make it. She began visiting the poker parlors in Gardena, a suburb of Los Angeles, and-she began to lose heavily. She also took up with a couple of the regulars at the place, and one of them, a part owner, began paying Valerie's losses, in return for which she became his part-time mistress.

It took a year for Al to realize that he was losing his wife and that his home was in jeopardy. He blamed himself because he had worked long hours most days, and felt that he had really not given enough effort to the social side of their married life. He cut his hours, launched a campaign of dinners, parties and dances, both at their lovely home and at other places. For a time, it worked. Then Valerie went off on another of her tangents. She joined a way-out sex group (without Al's knowledge) and began to spend afternoons in sex orgies. She still tried to maintain a semblance of interest in her marriage and in Melody, but she made no bones about telling Al that he bored her, always had, always would. They separated, quietly, with Al insisting that he keep Melody and hire a housekeeper, until and if they decided on a divorce. At the time, Al threatened to expose Val's sex peccadilloes if she tried to take custody of Melody, and Valerie was shrewd enough to know that she was holding a losing hand in the game, and she backed off.

Melody was then almost 13 years old. Al hired an older woman (which he discovered later, was a mistake) who had raised five children of her own, and who was out of touch with the teen-age mores and patterns of the day. She was devoutly religious, Puritanical and blunt in her criticism and high-handed ruling of the lively, curious girl.