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Subject: {ASSM} My Story: Terrific Girl
Date: Sun, 27 Oct 2002 01:10:02 -0500
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By Terrific Girl as told to Carol

[I said not long ago that I would not "soon" be able to complete a  
planned survey of my friends' comments on my history of our life in Our  
Town. As it happens, the Terrific Girl came to visit me recently in the  
Capital City. The following is an informal account of what the Terrific  
Girl had to say during her surprise visit, after she had read my ten  
essays on sex and growing up in Our Town. Since my job here in the  
Capital City includes sitting in on a lot of meetings and writing  
reports and memcons I naturally took notes of what the Terrific Girl  
said, and here is the result. This is not a verbatim transcript, not  
written as spoken, but my own edited rendering of what the Terrific  
Girl had to say, in essay form. I have added URLs where appropriate. I  
shall follow this submission with a similar debriefing of Mom. -- Carol]

I got to know Carol when I was ten or eleven, and she moved in to Mom's  
Friend's place. Before that we'd met a couple of times when she and her  
Mom visited. I think she was living on a houseboat, and she had to  
leave there, and before that she lived at another commune in Our Town.  
My father was an old friend and lover of Mom's Friend. They had both  
been involved with the Children of God and later been deprogrammed or  
got fed up with the regimentation or disillusioned with all that stuff  
in the Mo Letters "for disciples only". The following Web sites provide  
some of the background: of the integration of sex into COG theology, of  
Moses David's use of Mo Letters to instruct the Family, and of the  
judgment of Lord Justice Ward in the major case concerning child abuse  
by the sect:
<> (Ward judgment)
Actually my father didn't get far enough into the sect to have to be  
deprogrammed; he just left when they told him how to run his sex life.  
Who wants to be told how to have sex? Well actually many religions do:  
they forbid sex before marriage, they prohibit masturbation, abortion,  
birth control, oral sex, sex during menstruation, and so on. At least  
the COG looked at sex in a positive way; it was not for nothing that  
David Berg became known as the "love prophet". But even so, in my  
opinion he was something of a creep, as the above Web sites show; and  
not only at the end of his life when there came be a consensus on that  
point. When the Israelis didn't accept him as the messiah or whatever  
he claimed to be, he went nuts.  
<> (hagiography)
<> ("Moses David: A False  
Prophet") Deborah Davis, Berg's daughter, wrote more about that in her  
biography, "The Children of God: The Inside Story By the Daughter of  
the Founder".

After that, Berg almost got arrested for child abuse in Spain, which  
ended his reputation once the German press got onto it. Never mind that  
the Germans have more than their share of perverts and creeps, but I  
guess they needed to blame a foreigner. Maybe Berg became so dissolute  
because of his impotence; perhaps he'd have been different if they'd  
had Viagra then. but remember: he started out a millenarian, expecting  
the end of the world in 1974; and only when that didn't happen did he  
change his cult's orientation to sex. So there was a touch of  
expediency in his creed.

Going back to Berg's early days, the idea of sex as religion (that's  
not what he said exactly, but he might just as well have said it)  
rather than religion as sexual oppressor isn't such a bad idea really.  
Every other religion I can think of oppresses women and dictates how  
and when sex may be performed. Berg had his prejudices and  
prohibitions, but he did promote sexual activity, masturbation, oral  
sex and personal pleasure. He wasn't the only one to reinvent the  
commune. In the 1960s, when the movement that gave rise to the COG and  
thus to our way of life was born, there were countless thousands of  
communes and each had different, but mostly liberal, practices. [See  
Timothy Miller, "The 60s Communes" -- Carol] Behind the movement was  
the sexual revolution. In many, the members were nude most of the time;  
in some there was totally liberated, free sex. Nothing in my life, or  
my sex life, would have surprised anyone with such a commune  
background. David Berg was far from being alone in scorning legal  
marriage or in promoting oral sex. He just did it on a bigger scale,  
and with far greater regimentation. It reminds me of something I read  
about the Deoband sect of Islam regulating the minutiae of ordinary  
life, the sect the Taliban followed. How retrograde! Of course Berg was  
less rigorous than the Deobands with respect to what women and girls  
should wear, and really the choice between a burka and no clothes at  
all is an easy one to make. Mom's Friend more or less threw out the  
rulebook and made reasonableness, fairness and reciprocity of pleasure  
the new rules. If she acted as dictator it was only to the degree that  
her own largesse gave her the right to do. What the Deobands and Berg  
seemed to have in common was the submission of girls to rules about  
sex, and pairing them off to have sex at puberty at the latest. Not  
necessarily a bad thing I suggest, except unlike in Mom's Friend's  
house the girl was not necessarily consulted in the matter by the  
Deobands and she had to go around covered up, the opposite of what  
Mom's Friend recommended. Which reminds me to underline what Carol  
said: the vignettes and anecdotes are selective, to make our point.  
Many things happened that are less exciting, or less relevant for the  
purposes of this essay. Most girls and boys, armed with the knowledge  
of their bodies and the potential for love and sex wanted to enjoy them  
fully. But there was no compulsion, just encouragement, and not all  
participated. Nobody had to stay, and, as I mention below, lots of  
families only remained at Mom's Friend's house just for a short while,  
until they could get their lives together and move on. Many of those  
just watched and learned. Some did neither.

Until I was eleven I was rather put off by sex. I didn't want some  
boy's penis in me and I didn't think I ever would, least of all in my  
MOUTH. I used to watch for afar, of course: it was like watching any  
strange and bizarre custom, in an anthropological sense. I'd look  
around corners at bigger girls, and wonder how they would WANT to kiss  
like that. As for touching a boy's penis, especially a big stiff one  
... GAWD! That I saw older adults and girls enjoying sex didn't stop me  
from being put off. A girl had told me I could masturbate, but that  
didn't sound very nice to me either. And that some girls made a display  
of sex, "a fountain of semen" they said, only made it grosser. (I shall  
explain later why I had this aversion whereas other girls I lived with  
did not and were, or claimed to be, eager to start puberty, start  
menstruating and to have their first sex.)

Then I had my first period. It was embarrassing and I wanted to hide.  
But Mom's Friend spent a lot of time with me, and so did a couple of  
the other girls. In the end I realized there was no going back. I think  
the day -- the night really -- that Carol took me and Older Girl to the  
boys' room to try out their experiment on the sleeping boy made me  
realize there was something harmless and curious and fun about sex.  
After all, the boy was asleep, at least for most of the event. Carol  
had asked us to disrobe, and we did it in a teasing sort of way. I  
figured if Older Girl could do it, so could I even though I didn't have  
much to show. I put on a pose. All the boys were asleep so I figured  
nobody would really see me. Even if they could, there was nothing new  
about seeing me nude except my new affectation of sexiness. There was  
only the moonlight to make a silhouette. It was sort of the ultimate  
tease: Carol putting a sleeping boy's penis in her mouth and making him  
come. And enjoying it! Enjoying the taste and feel of his semen, and  
enjoying the total control she was exercising over his body. It was  
actually a feminist moment. After it was over with the boy I looked  
over at Older Girl, Mom's Friend's daughter, such a nice person and  
such a reliable friend. Besides being kind and reliable she had such a  
lovely body and she knew how to use it. I decided I wanted to be like  
her. Older Girl's smile told me I had just seen the greatest show, the  
greatest event, on earth. I don't know if that boy actually saw me  
there; I suppose he didn't in the dark. And even if he had, I could  
hardly have turned him on. I didn't have breasts yet or anything, just  
the start of nipples really. Yet somehow I felt sexy. Or rather I had  
the knowledge that I COULD feel sexy, I could BE sexy. And it felt  
good, satisfying. I saw the boy get an erection, and a girl, a friend  
of mine, was doing it, causing it, and he had no say in the matter, and  
she moved her mouth up and down, and even though it was a scientific  
experiment it was sexy. And then he came, and she had captured his  
semen in her mouth and she obviously loved it. What an event! How  
touching it was; all of a sudden I envied her.

(In Mom's Friend's house, boys and girls had always slept in separate  
rooms, or at least were supposed to. I recall another commune near Our  
Town, now long closed and shuttered, where a one-time boyfriend of mine  
had grown up. There, boys and girls slept in mixed beds. Adults there  
seemed to think that kids would naturally find each other and introduce  
themselves to sex. It seems to have worked for that purpose, but my  
boyfriend complained that it caused lots of other family jealousies and  
frictions. That commune, like many of its day, promoted the random  
assignment of sleeping partners, a different one each night, and  
discouraged birth control. In an example of 60s sexual freedom gone mad  
it seems to have sought to maximize the number of instances of penis in  
vagina, at whatever age, and the resultant pregnancies. The colony  
eventually foundered over the inevitable scandal over teenage  
pregnancies, STDs and unknown and unknowable paternity in the days  
before DNA.)

After the incident with the sleeping boy I got to thinking: I could be  
a part of this. It could be fun. Then it was a couple of months later  
and I was developing fast, and Older Girl said she'd make a special  
party for me. I wouldn't have to do anything if I didn't want to, I  
could decide how far I wanted to go on the day. There was this boy I  
had been hanging around with and had a crush on, only he was shy, and  
they said I could "own" him. Carol in her essay said he was about 12,  
but in fact he was nearly 14. He was just shy, and he looked younger  
than he was. He had a nice size penis, but it was smooth, without a lot  
of hair. We had the swimming party and we did have fun, playing in the  
water nude, fixing a barbecue, drinking sangria. They gave me the  
sangria, which I guess was against the law but it was delicious and  
after that I didn't mind. And Older Girl had talked to the boy, and  
told him what he had to do. Now I know, of course, that you shouldn't  
let any boy near you unless you are in control. Well, after the sangria  
maybe I wasn't in control, and that could be dangerous. I've seen other  
girls taken terrible advantage of, even without sangria. But here were  
my friends, and they were looking out for me. And this time, I wasn't  
looking around corners at sex, it was happening right next to me. Carol  
was right there, and that boy -- I forget his name -- who had his penis  
straight out, and was putting it in her vagina on the table, and we  
could see it all. I could see close up the physiology and procedures of  
sex. Carol had this enigmatic smile on her face. You couldn't tell what  
she was thinking. And then she looked over at me, and I realized she  
was inviting me to do what she had done. And then, it was not happening  
next to me, it was happening WITH me.

It seemed, after all, that my boy loved me enough to kiss and kiss  
again my vaginal lips, to make me really excited and want sex, and want  
to please him. He would have done anything I asked him. Plus, he was  
cute. And I saw his penis -- up close it seemed really huge, or rather  
inflated; anyway fully grown; but silky smooth and so kissable. After  
he'd spent all that time kissing me down there, I was so full of  
liquid, my mucus and the boy's saliva, that his penis went in so  
easily. I hardly felt it until -- there it was. He was making love to  
me! People had said it might hurt. Well, it didn't hurt that much --  
and anyway I was busy thinking about other things, about what an orgasm  
would feel like. About what happens when he comes. I didn't want to  
miss any of the sexiness (well, objectively this wasn't really such a  
sexy atmosphere, was it, just kids around a pool, but it was nice just  
the same) or any of the pleasure. (Well, that's an acquired thing too,  
I think. Which is not to say I didn't feel good, or that I didn't enjoy  
making that boy so excited, so desperately excited.) I felt the semen  
after that -- it was the first time I'd touched it. There had been so  
much talk of "swallow or spit" at school that I tasted it. (I wondered  
about those girls at school: about which ones were actually having sex,  
and in particular oral sex, and which were making it up. Well, after my  
first time, I would sometimes know when they were lying because I would  
know the mechanics of it and those who hadn't actually done it,  
wouldn't. I would never say anything, though. I had nothing to gain by  
flaunting my lifestyle.) It didn't actually taste like anything, so I  
decided the next time I'd try oral sex, and would see for myself. I got  
plenty advice from my friends. The boy was so gentle with me. My first  
vaginal sex was good sex. I would hope that every girl could have such  
an experience.

My first oral sex would occur another day, at Mom's Friend's house. Of  
course after the first time with a boy it doesn't take much to get him  
ready for sex. We were watching TV, with our clothes on as usual  
upstairs. I waited until I knew there was a bunch of kids horsing  
around nude in the basement, and I knew they were expecting me, so I  
said "let's go down there", which we did. I had been talking to the  
girls about my intention, so everybody knew what was to happen. There  
were a couple of adults, some teens who lived with us and some friends  
of theirs and a few kids I didn't know. Maybe a dozen people. As Carol  
wrote, there were often kids over from families that Mom's Friend knew  
whose parents wanted their kids to mix and learn from us. Families that  
Mom's Friend could trust to be discreet and vice versa. Funny that  
despite what people think there so many parents who WANT their  
pubescent kids to have safe sex and not to be virgins. Especially their  
boys, but that's another story. It is a matter of pride, and of  
vicarious pleasure. I never heard any parent or adult actually comment  
about their kids' sex techniques, but I know they love to watch while  
perhaps pretending not to. I saw this time and time again; and I have  
to say I would do likewise. Parents may say that they would recoil at  
the thought of seeing their young son with a fine erection, his girl  
beside him; but I have so often seen them in real life, fascinated by  
their boy's coming of age, delighted that a young girl sees in their  
son the manliness they would hope for him to have, delighted that the  
girl would receive that stiff penis in her mouth, her vagina. And to  
see the exchange of semen confirms to a parent fecundity and the chance  
for posterity when the time comes. Parents do not stare rudely as kids  
do, but they do not look away either. They smile and watch from the  
corner of an eye. With our group, the parents of a daughter would feel  
and act likewise. I cannot speak for the general public on that point.  
Carol's description of the first sex of the Big Breasted Girl, of the  
"gorgeous" stiff penis just about to enter her, is so touching, the  
sight so beautiful and heartwarming. Her parents weren't there, nor  
his; but I could have envisaged their happily looking on. The event  
signifies the real start of a life, real maturity, real bliss. One  
wants to be in their position, to grab one's partner and follow them.

On that day it didn't take much once the two of us were naked and  
watching each other for signals for my boy's penis to start getting  
stiff. We weren't talking about sex or anything, but that's what was on  
our minds, and I was holding my body in a certain way, pushing out my  
smallish but growing breasts and spreading my legs enough for my pubic  
mound to show itself to best advantage. His penis stood straight out,  
pointing at me, its round head promising me, it seemed, a good time. In  
the past we would treat being nude there as going topless, like on a  
beach -- well, a French or a Mexican beach anyway -- for example, a  
little daring, but not too naughty. Even though for us it meant being  
topless-and-bottomless, and though it wasn't like what they say a  
nudist beach would be, where getting an erection is an embarrassment.  
At our house it was always a pleasure to see sexual interest, arousal.  
I don't know how to explain it to people who don't live that lifestyle,  
but it always seemed perfectly natural to us, whether or not we had sex  
in mind, to be unclothed. Getting aroused, or seeing others aroused,  
was a bonus. If a girl and boy got aroused and excited, that was just  
natural, to be expected and to be enjoyed. They didn't have to proceed  
to sex at all, and as often as not, they didn't. If they did, of  
course, it could start off a chain reaction, but so much the better.  
The only special barrier that Mom's Friend imposed on us kids was that  
it shouldn't impinge on our homework. There were other rules too,  
against coercion, harassment, ridicule, bullying, inter-generational  
sex, and so on. Of course in this Mom's Friend was teaching us  
compromise and respect, two things Moses Berg had little use for. She  
wanted us all to go to college. Ironically the only one among us who  
didn't was her own nephew, The 16-Year-Old Boy, but he was a special  
case. None of us could understand why Carol stayed with him as long as  
she did, but then who's to figure out what drives love?

Anyway, my boy and I sat talking in an atmosphere of contrived  
innocence but there was so much sexiness around and we couldn't long  
pretend we weren't turned on and ready to proceed. Nobody else was in  
the "throes of sex" or anything like that; still, there was that aura  
of sex about and some kids fondling each other. Still, the others,  
knowing what we were there for, were going to give us priority. They  
wanted to watch us; as I have noted above, it was especially the adults  
who got vicarious pleasure from a first sex experience of their  
charges. My boy and I were talking, and meanwhile his penis, half-hard  
was quivering with a suggestion that it would get even stiffer. It  
reminded me that I was its target. Inside I felt mounting passion. I  
started to shiver with excitement, with anticipation. Before, the boy  
had controlled his own pleasure. This time I would be doing it for him.  
Everybody had agreed that oral sex was the most fantastic experience  
any boy could ever have; all the girls I lived with argued that the  
girl, too, would have utmost pleasure: from the penis itself and from  
the semen it would produce.

There's a song that Mom's Friend used to hum in irony: "They tried to  
tell us we're too young, too young to really be in love" [The 1951 Nat  
King Cole hit, "Too Young"  
It became a kind of theme song for us, and we interpreted "falling in  
love" as "making love". Of course the song was written before easy  
divorce and abortion changed the face of America's families, before  
open opportunities for women ended absolute male control over our  
bodies, wealth and life. Before the age of majority fell to 18, TV and  
lately the Internet ended adults' (and more specifically the  
Establishment's) monopoly of knowledge and teaching, and before kids  
became empowered and asserted their right to libido. And of course like  
any science, sex is a lab course, better learned in the context of a  
support group than by solo home study. It's in the light of that, and  
in the environment of understanding and openness that Mom's Friend  
supported, that my boy and I were about to follow our urges.

He smiled expectantly at me, and I answered his smile by reaching over  
and gently touching his penis, caressing it as it pointed at me,  
horizontally, semi-hard. Why not? When you've been raised to know that  
what comes naturally is natural you don't hesitate. When sex is the  
most normal thing you don't give the process itself very much thought.  
After our sex at the pool, whatever barrier there was had already been  
crossed. And on reflection, since virginity held no value for any of  
us, it wasn't a philosophical or religious barrier but one of habit.  
Now I wasn't afraid of a penis, of holding it, or kissing it, or having  
it enter me. Having always loved play-acting I could add a new style to  
my repertory. I could touch and tease my boy while others watched, just  
the way I had seen older girls do. The whole process is so magnified  
when you are watched, and when you know you are likely to arouse others  
who will want to copy you. I felt grand: to have this boy beside me,  
his penis stiff and getting stiffer, and all because he wanted me and I  
wanted him. I felt even grander with "family" and friends watching us.  
Their waiting for one of us, either of us to take the initiative,  
waiting for that fine penis to be inside me, is an incredible thought.  
For them, it seems, it was like waiting for a favorite child to receive  
her diploma at graduation or to be awarded a medal at a competition or  
to accomplish any rite of passage. They would look at me, at my breasts  
and then over to him, at his penis. He looked proud, the center of  
attention, proud of his adult erection. And, as Carol says, if  
everybody loves young lovers we felt truly loved. But their patience  
started to wear thin, I think, when I took so long in teasing him. At a  
certain point some of them wanted to see us get down to doing whatever  
it was that we were going to do; their own itches were already driving  
their bodies. Already another couple was kissing, embracing, caressing,  
the boys fingers at his girl's vagina, her hand stroking his penis. My  
boy's was no longer the only erect penis in the room and I was not the  
only girl restless in my chair and my vagina, aroused and ready, not  
the only one that wanted penetration.

Sex is so exciting; I can't imagine it ever getting dull. Well, maybe  
it would if that's what you did for a living, but I don't mean that. I  
mean rather that "sex in context, or sex in its place, is exciting". I  
try to make every time resemble my first time. A boy loves it when I  
admire his penis, fondle it at arm's length; but it's a tease because  
I'm still keeping it from penetration. I can grasp a boy's penis, put  
my hand around it, stroke it lightly, make it jump; his mind will be on  
what happens next. The best moment is when I finally approach him or  
invite him approach me and I am on the verge of putting that into my  
mouth or into my vagina. At that moment the boy is senseless with  
desire, anticipation, pre-orgasmic delirium. And with the first stroke  
of my tongue or the first thrust into my vagina he belongs to me. I can  
stop him and tell him that before we continue he has to do more to  
excite me, he has to kiss and lick my vagina and clitoris, and of  
course he will do it. But once I've let him come it's too late for  
bargaining. Somebody once reminded me that gratitude is the fond  
expectation of more favors to come. It's different when you are in a  
stable relationship as I am today with my partner; then your man is  
sufficiently committed that he has to try to give you an orgasm if you  
want one. My counsel to girls in any other situation is to get yours  
first. Then, when you are at or close to orgasm there's the big choice  
of penis in vagina, which is nice, or penis in mouth, which is also  
lovely. You choose. Few or no girls manage an orgasm every time, but  
that's no reason not to try for one when the opportunity is there.

Months later, at that dance party Carol wrote about
<>, the one where my dancing  
partner and I were the last to have sex and where I wanted everybody to  
look us standing there first, after I sat down the boy was kissing me,  
first he was at my vulva, then his tongue was inside the outer labia,  
the slit; and then he was feeling the opening of my vagina with his  
tongue. I moved my legs further apart and he pushed his tongue inside  
my vagina as far as it would go, and it was heavenly. He started  
running his tongue all around, putting it especially at the places  
which I would point at. My clitoris got very sensitive and I had to  
have him stop touching it for a while; he was trying too hard. Once I  
got a little older I began to prefer boys who know already what they're  
supposed to do; but in those days I myself was still learning. I know  
that Carol for a time ran after boy virgins, but I never saw the point  
of doing that. Which is not to say that I didn't very much enjoy  
watching boys mature, keeping track of their entry into puberty, the  
growth of their penises. They were cute. It was fun to observe the  
moment, or series of moments, when a boy would realize his maturity,  
would start to think about sexual relations in a more mature manner,  
would have his first thoughts of making love with a girl, would look at  
my body in that different way. I would offer a subtle acknowledgment to  
the odd lustful glance that I'd get from such a pubescent boy. Older  
boys can be arrogant and self-important and they can ignore your needs.  
But if you pick your boy right, and if you aren't afraid to speak up,  
everything will be OK. The girl just has to plan ahead and stay aware  
of what is happening. To stay in control, as Older Girl always told us.  
For this, Carol performed a service since the boy who starts sex early  
can be trained to be respectful of a girl's body and a girl's needs and  
a girl's intellect, all while learning about the sexual process itself.  
This is one reason why children should be encouraged to interact early  
and to learn about and learn how to use their sexuality and their sex  

On this occasion, the first time I was going to take a boy's penis into  
my mouth, I didn't know any of those things yet. I was gently stroking  
his smooth penis, and it was reaching its maximum hardness and beauty.  
Seeing the audience restless, impatient, my partner got to work. His  
penis swayed as he moved, it seemed so graceful, its shiny head excited  
me so. After brief pro-forma kissing and cuddling he got on his knees  
and gently separated my legs, moved his head into place, looked around  
at those watching and took what must have been my whole crotch into his  
mouth. I had to slow him down, and then he was gentler, slower, softer.  
This wasn't his first time, after all. He went on forever kissing and  
sucking and licking me down there. His tongue traveled all over, going  
as deeply into my vagina as it could, softly stroking my clitoris  
repeatedly. Unlike that first time at the pool I didn't let him stop  
before I climaxed. In retrospect, I have to say that I was lucky both  
of those first times. I can't reach orgasm 100% of the time even with  
oral sex; mood and atmosphere and preparation -- foreplay in other  
words -- count for a lot. We could have had mission failure. But we  
didn't. I leaned back and relaxed. Soon I got this delirious feeling,  
and as it built up to an incredible peak, and then to release I cried  
out. There were smiles in the room. Now my boy knew it was his turn. We  
changed places and I took his penis in my hands and I caressed it all  
over. I thought how amazing an erection was, and how much bigger it was  
when erect. I put my mouth over its head and licked the tip. I could  
taste something there and I ran my tongue along its little slit. My boy  
groaned. I put it in my mouth and moved my head really slowly up and  
down, twisting my tongue around the head of his penis each time I  
reached the top and every minute or so taking his penis so I could look  
at it and that others could appreciate its beauty. I'd seen other girls  
do this in the past. Older Girl had told me that slower is better, and  
that if you change the speed you might have to start all over, and that  
you should take the penis out of your mouth every so often so it would  
stay really hard. After she had told me that, I had watched her at work  
with her boyfriend; I decided she was right. Even if it would make him  
take longer to ejaculate the trade-off in the eventual intensity of the  
boy's orgasm was worth it. I could see the logic of wanting his penis  
to stay very hard, so I had a metronome going in my head reminding me  
of all these things and controlling my timing. Then, sure enough, all  
of a sudden and just as Older Girl had promised and just when I had  
begun thinking it would never happen, he ejaculated. Quite a bit, and  
with great force. I think the teasing had helped his prostate generate  
a lot of fluid. I almost choked on it, which wasn't nice, but Older  
Girl had said that whatever happened I mustn't stop until nothing more  
was coming out of the opening in the tip of his penis, and so I didn't.  
But I didn't know how to swallow while still moving my head with his  
penis inside my mouth, and of course the stuff started to leak. And  
everybody thought it was cute, funny even. And very sexy, arousing. But  
having completed the exercise, now those around us who cared to do so  
were free to enjoy themselves, couple by couple. Some hadn't waited, I  
guess they couldn't restrain themselves any longer. We must have been a  
very sexy sight. What impressed me at the end was how this boy, and in  
fact all boys and men, are so calm after orgasm. It's a moment of  
weakness and love for them, but weakness of a quite different sort than  
when, in the beginning, their penis at the threshold of your mouth,  
they are so dependent upon you to start making them feel good. Minutes  
after they are done, of course, whatever personality weaknesses they  
may have come back to the surface. But to hold a boy's penis after you  
have taken all his semen in your mouth, and with that semen still in  
your mouth and your hand still encircling his shrinking and wrinkling  
penis and a few drops of semen still at its tip is one of the wondrous  
moments of sex. It reminds a girl how helpless her partner is at that  
moment and how much control she had over him and his emotions, however  
briefly, in minutes past.

To return to my story, now that my boy was finished I could concentrate  
on the purpose of the encounter, which was to see whether I really  
liked the taste of the semen, which had formed a pool on the floor of  
my mouth. I ran it over my tongue and swirled it through my mouth and  
decided finally that I did, and I swallowed it all, while my boy sat  
there, smiling and coming down to earth from a state of ecstasy and  
bliss. But I didn't know why I liked it, and I still don't, although I  
suppose there is a cultural element here and the fact that all the  
girls I knew loved it, or claimed to love it, had an impact. It doesn't  
really have much of a taste. I just think it's sensuous stuff. I guess  
it's knowing where it has come from, and what it means, and how you got  
it and what its potential is that makes it "sacred", as Carol put it.  
It may be superfluous, but I should add that Older Girl told us never  
to do anything we weren't comfortable with, and one of the things she  
mentioned was taking so much of a long penis into your mouth that you  
gagged. Sex should be fun, and while I mentioned there was some  
competitiveness in it among teens, my goalposts never included doing  
anything I didn't feel like doing. As time has told, I do enough to  
keep me and my partners happy. That, of course, is where our family  
diverged from Moses David: he made COG girls and women give sex,  
whether by FF-ing or within the Church, solely to please men, and  
without much consideration for their own pleasure: his Mo letters  
simply assumed they would enjoy it rather than providing serious  
counsel on how they could take charge and insure themselves sexual  
satisfaction all or much of the time. I believe in equal rights.

After those first times, when I was discovering puberty and its  
potential, I've loved to be next to a boy I love, a boy with a hard-on  
for me, who treats me tenderly and lovingly and who will still be there  
afterwards. I love to be like that with others watching us. And I love  
to tease him so he stays hard and gets harder. After I have aroused  
him, I like to bring him close to coming. And then stop and do  
something else. That way, when eventually we get to the point I get  
what you might call a big splash. I was really grateful to the boy from  
the pool party for the way he'd gone about our first sex, vaginal and  
oral, but we drifted apart anyway after that. He wanted to be someone  
special for me, but it just didn't click between us. It didn't take me  
long to discover that a relationship based solely on sex isn't going to  
go anywhere. You have to like doing other things with the boy, too, and  
talking with him about your past, your future, your hopes, your  
thoughts. For him to like my body, and I his, wasn't enough. He would  
have had to inspire me more. I had discovered my body; now I had to  
discover my mind. This happens at different times in growing up and the  
second depends upon the first, I think. That's the mistake that the sex  
police make when they criminalize sex exploration by teens. If kids  
were free to explore among themselves they would be unlikely to respond  
to those older predators seeking to exploit them, evil and maladjusted  
exploiters. If they didn't have to hide their liaisons they could be  
protected by parents and loved ones. And not only from dirty old men,  
but from serial abuse of all kinds

After I had my own experiences I became more sensitive to what was  
going on around me in matters of sex. I never felt, like Carol, that I  
ought necessarily to involve myself with others' first experiences. But  
I did start looking between the thighs of others with a more  
experienced eye. I began to enjoy watching boys of eleven or twelve or  
so as they entered puberty, as their penises started to grow and become  
more interesting. It is one of the nicest things of the nude life that  
you can see a child's physical development through its stages. To see  
it made me inwardly so happy, for the boy and for us all, more  
especially when, on occasion, I would see an erection. I would enjoy it  
when a boy, talking to me, would respond to me sexually even though  
nothing might come of it. A growing penis is so cute, irresistible,  
kissable. I would want to get close and feel it; but I rarely did. I  
would smile inwardly if his penis twitched and perhaps became aroused  
while his eyes wandered from mine down to my breasts. I would say  
nothing, but I would feel important. Only sometimes would I respond on  
such an occasion, usually at one of our parties. Something just might  
happen on the spur of the moment if a boy and his penis were  
particularly irresistible and I was not otherwise committed to any boy.  
To this day I think back to the sight of a young boy's penis in my own  
teen-age body, giving himself to me, giving me his semen to try. At  
such times a the boy is proud, playing with a "woman's" body, giving  
his partner pleasure and having manly pleasure in return, feeling,  
seeing his own semen spurting from his penis into her.

I got to like being able to pick and choose, and showing off my body,  
especially my breasts, and boys could look at me and hope that they  
could be my next choice. I had a lot of dates, but actually I didn't  
have nearly as much sex as Carol implies. It was a difficult age, early  
teens, not being able to drive and get to where our friends are. Mom's  
Friend would drive us when she could, and so would Older Girl; but they  
were the only drivers likely to be around when we most wanted to go  
somewhere. On a more superficial basis, we could flirt with boys from  
school; but our secret lifestyle was always a barrier. We could always  
give religion as an excuse, but it was kind of obvious that we weren't  
fundamentalists or anything like that. And I personally found theology  
kind of boring; Carol was more into that kind of thought, that and  

Then as now I could relate to others on many levels. I like being sexy  
and I like being around sex, but my standards are high. Just being nude  
among others, swimming or dancing for example, and teasing and maybe  
not having sex at all is fun too. My body can compete with anybody's,  
and I knew when I was at school and at college I would be looked at and  
remembered, and that I'd get calls later. While I liked the protocol in  
Mom's Friend's house, I also like the naturist protocol of look but  
don't touch. I like the way it makes boys nervous to be around me, to  
have my breasts really close to them, to be looking them in their eyes,  
but really I am watching their penises. When I see a boy looking at my  
breasts I always look directly at his penis, covered with clothes or  
not. That unnerves a lot of boys, and it's fun. Boys gets worried about  
what I might be thinking, about whether I know some secret about them,  
about whether I think there's something defective about them. Boys are  
all self-conscious about their penises. I like the fully clothed minuet  
too, where never mind that you are dressed, you are sensuous and people  
can envisage what you look like naked. Anyway clothes can come off. I  
remember a picnic we had years ago in somebody's private field. First  
it was supposed to be everybody clothed, in case any stranger could see  
us. Then it became topless. And finally the consensus was to get fully  
undressed, but no sex. In the end we wound up having sex, most of us,  
anyway. Once one couple got sexy, one boy got an erection that his girl  
couldn't resist touching, everybody started doing it. It was fun.

I was speaking recently to a girl who used to live at Mom's Friend's  
house. She had something to say on this. It had occurred to her (could  
it have been after leafing through a copy "Health and Efficiency"?)  
that our lifestyle didn't differ all that much from that of naturist  
families and communities, except the no-sex protocol was absent.
<> Leering was still out, loving  
sex was encouraged. We wondered whether naturists were in fact all that  
chaste, and whether in fact we were just more forthcoming, honest. I  
find it hard to believe that naturist teens, turned on by the sight of  
beautiful bodies, don't do what we did, but perhaps with greater  
discretion, in secret hideaways.

I didn't find college as easy as Carol did; and moreover I didn't have  
time to give a fair hearing to every boy who wanted a date. After my  
first year, during which it was one boy after another, something had to  
give. And having sex at that age meant getting involved, which I didn't  
want to do. I made a few exceptions, mostly to go out in a group, but  
when it became a choice of passing or failing, at a certain point I had  
to "just say no". I got serious about my studies just in time, and then  
it just happened that I met my present boyfriend, whom I didn't expect  
to go out with but who helped me study for some science exams I  
dreaded. Now he's an accountant and always one for priorities. As you  
can figure, he was good with priorities then, too, and he helped me  
succeed and graduate. Back in High School it had been different: then  
relationships were my priority.

My dad wasn't around all that much in my student years because of his  
work. He'd broken up with my mom when I was a baby, and had moved in  
with Mom's Friend, who'd already left the COG, reclaimed her trust  
fund, and bought a house for herself and little Older Girl and started  
taking in refugees from the COG. Almost right away my dad started  
traveling on business, so I was really raised by Mom's Friend and the  
other girls and women around. It wasn't exactly baby farming, but my  
early relationship with my dad was strained, and with my mom was almost  
non-existent. So I didn't have the advantage Carol and other girls had  
of seeing their moms as examples for love and for future sex. When my  
dad was in town, of course, he would be with me at Mom's Friend's house  
and I saw him and Mom's Friend doing what they did. But even so the  
bond between daughter and father is not the same as that between  
daughter and mother when it comes to intimate things. I never  
approached my dad when he was having sex. I saw him naked a lot just as  
he saw me, and I saw him with an erection, but as it happens I didn't  
much see what he did with it. Not that I didn't know: I could watch any  
of the teenagers at sex. Which was more interesting anyway because they  
were still experimenting and learning. And, I might add, more orally  
and more visually oriented. They did what they did in plain view and in  
daylight, and perhaps would put on a show if somebody was thought to be  
looking, so you could actually see a boy's penis and how it worked its  
way in and out of the girl's vagina, and if a girl was playing with her  
boy's penis you might see his semen spout into the air like a geyser.  
Older couples didn't do that, didn't show off. Only kids are  
competitive that way. (Actually they would do it mainly outdoors, after  
they found out that otherwise they'd have to clean up after  
themselves.) Maybe there's an inconsistency here between my staring at  
my peers to learn about sex, and my hesitation for want of early  
childhood experience to hold one in my hand, my mouth, my vagina. I  
have no explanation for that.

Mom's Friend kept her distance from outsiders, from people and families  
who hadn't had the same background she had. She wanted to avoid  
outsiders out of fear that our lifestyle might cause a ruckus. Maybe  
there were people who knew, but they never let on. As far as others  
knew, we were just another clique. Well, that's not entirely true. We  
had, as I think I said, visitors, parents who somehow had met one or  
another of the adults and admired the sexually liberal lifestyle, and  
maybe wanted their children to experience it, but who had to stay  
mainstream. Of course even though at school we had, as I said, our own  
crowd, there was pressure for dates and stuff from kids who had no idea  
-- as far as we knew -- of how we lived. Fortunately to see our living  
room they would never know, not usually; and I would never let any  
outside kid go further than that unless it was a kid who happened to  
share our lifestyle at home. (I don't mean the sort of kid who was  
having sex on the sly in the fire stairwell at school, or in a broom  
closet somewhere. Since we didn't have to hide our sex at home, we  
didn't need to have sex on the run at school or anywhere else.) Carol  
and I had different issues to face, not only because we were a year  
apart, but because she was so smart at school, and she could always  
give an excuse that she had to study, and they'd believe her.

I agree with Carol that virginity is a stupid concept. It equates with  
saying that ignorance and inexperience are best. What I realized after  
that night with Carol and Older Girl was that my breasts, however  
undeveloped, were, or would become, exciting to about half the human  
population. I always liked dancing, and all the time they were growing  
I never wore a bra, and I liked boys to stare and I liked to press  
against them and tease them, make them uncomfortable. I know a lot of  
boys are embarrassed by their erections when you dance with them, but  
if I felt confident with them I used to put them at ease by touching  
them, running my hand up and down their penis and smiling sweetly.  
Whether or not they were wearing clothes. Of course that pretty much  
committed me to more later; it meant sex, unless of course the boy did  
or said something stupid, but then isn't that what life's about? I  
think only once in all the years since I was 11 has a boy run off when  
I told him (well, more politely than I am putting it here) that he'd  
have to eat my pussy first. If the boy is young enough he won't have  
had misogynist ideas yet in his head, and he'll see the logic of equal  
opportunity for pleasure. He'll follow instructions, and he may come to  
see the vagina as a source of beauty as well as fun. Once a guy gets  
macho pretensions it's too late. Which is one reason why Carol may be  
right when she told me that intellectuals make the best lovers.

The dance party that Carol wrote about was really fun. We only had a  
few parties that big. They were hard to arrange. If you are going to  
have a party and most people are expected and expecting to have sex,  
then you have to know your guest list. And you have to have some girls  
on call just in case, even if you promise them that they won't have to  
do anything but dance with the boys you have for them. What girl wants  
to be on a list to be called to dance and maybe have sex after all,  
perhaps, indeed probably, with a stranger, as a second-string guest?  
And what happens if a couple breaks up the eve of the party -- that  
happened a couple of times. But that night worked out great. Usually  
once the first couple stops dancing and has sex that ends the  
music-and-dance part of the program and things get quiet. But that  
night somehow it went one-at-a-time: a couple would peel off the dance  
floor and go off to the side, and have fun. Was it rude to watch them  
become passionate, embrace, move from kisses to caresses to fondling to  
arousal to sex? Is it more engaging to imagine orgasm or to see it  
happen? Is a drip or a trail of semen sexy? Or are a sigh and a smile  
sufficient to reassure those about that this party, for that couple,  
has been a great success?

I do like to dance. I don't think it's any special talent. I forced  
myself to learn, the way I forced myself to learn math and chemistry,  
by pure rote. I even took up Scottish country dancing once. How many  
people can dance to "Mary's Wedding"? I could do it blindfolded and I  
think it's the most complicated Scottish dance ever choreographed. I  
love dancing because it makes you in demand, popular. Nude dancing is  
the best of all, at least if your body is in decent shape, because you  
get to see your partner in action, and because there is a basic honesty  
about naked people. Nakedness is a great equalizer. Forget  
one-upmanship of clothes, forget flaunted money. Naked we're all equal.  
Luckily my partner at the dance party was a really good dancer too, and  
we kept dancing forever. Of course when you yourself are dancing you  
hardly have the opportunity to look at the others; but then you can sit  
a dance out and admire them, and look at your partner's sexy parts, and  

At the dance party, just as Carol said I danced forever with my partner  
and then after everyone else had stopped dancing to rest and to embrace  
and to have sex we pulled apart to show off our bodies. My partner had  
this big erection the whole time and I thought it must be hurting, but  
I kept on teasing him, keeping him on the dance floor. Meanwhile I  
could see him staring at my breasts and getting more and more excited  
and he started losing his step in the dances. Finally I feared he might  
ejaculate right there on the dance floor without any help from me, so I  
stopped and sat down in the chair, and invited him to make me happy.  
The rest is history: we had oral sex and he came in huge amounts thanks  
to the teasing, and it was delicious.

Carol complains that she's here in the Capital City and that public  
display of her body and sex are impossible. I guess they are, at least  
if you insist on staying away from the weirdos and the crazies. One of  
the girls from Our Town went to a nude party with a boyfriend, and it  
turned out to be full of people with tattoos and people who wanted to  
exchange partners, and people who wanted to do things she had never  
done. She didn't even want to look. I don't live in Our Town anymore.  
My partner, The Accountant, has a good job and I'm getting an MBA and  
looking for work. So we're in a bigger city now. And we live in a big  
house with two other couples. It's not quite the same as at Mom's  
Friend's house, maybe because there are no kids around, yet. But nobody  
has to wear more clothes than she feels like wearing. We go topless if  
we feel like it, which is nice and sexy. And however far a couple wants  
to go beyond that, well who's to mind? Nobody ever seems to close their  
door anyway, or worry too much about discretion in corners of rooms.  
It's funny how sex is catching: like a yawn, if one person does it soon  
everybody around is doing it. I've always kind of enjoyed the fact that  
I can start something with a boy, and pretty soon everyone in the room  
is doing it, or something like it. What did Carol say, "sex passed up  
is sex lost"? Others may have had this thought too, but I think it's  
mostly men and boys:

Carol wrote that I'd had a lot of boyfriends, which as I said was true  
in high school and my freshman year in college. But it is one thing to  
fool around with young boys in a small crowd, a "closed circle" against  
infection, as Carol described it, and another thing to take risks in  
the wider world. Once kids are out on their own, when they're not kids  
anymore, you can't tell what they might pick up and you can't be as  
confident and free as you could when they were younger and just within  
your own controlled circle. This was one of the reasons, in addition to  
academics, that I took to being relatively chaste after the first year  
in college. We knew, at Mom's Friend's house, that our sex was safe  
sex. But one of the girls I knew at college had sex just once, she  
said, with an old flame and came back with gonorrhea and herpes. That  
was a wake-up call, for me anyway. I was seeing The Accountant by then,  
and we just stopped seeing anyone else, either of us. Nobody commits  
anymore, not even me, it's true and I'm not ready to get married or  
anything. But at least I'm safe, and we are compatible, and maybe  
something more long-term will develop between us. Time will tell.  
Meanwhile, I'm safe and healthy.

In Carol's last essay she writes about fathers wanting to introduce  
their sons to sex, and she wonders how common it is. As a matter of  
fact, and as she knows, I have a story about that too. My mom, who  
never had custody of me and whom I saw maybe a couple of times a year,  
called me once to say that a man she had met, a divorced guy, out of  
the blue invited her and me to spend a week in Mexico during spring  
vacation. His son was 13 and so was I. Apparently the invitation was  
only good if I went along; already that gives you a hint of what the  
guy had in mind. Well, I'd never been abroad, and it seemed like a good  
opportunity, so I went. It was one of those package tours to a Mexican  
beach resort. We got there in the late afternoon, walked about the town  
and saw some of the sights. After dinner we stayed in the hotel lobby  
for a while and had a drink, then went up to the room. I guess the  
father's intentions became clear enough when he set out the sleeping  
arrangements, although I have to say he couldn't have known much about  
our lifestyle so it was rather presumptuous. He got undressed and told  
his son to get undressed. Mom wasn't so used to this sort of thing --  
the kind of family nudity I was so used to -- and she had never been  
naked with a man in front of me. It wasn't that she had any particular  
principles against it; it just hadn't happened because she hadn't been  
there in our house all those years. So while I wasn't bothered at all,  
she just sat there, half-undressed, transfixed, bewildered. The father  
started undressing my mom the rest of the way and he was kissing her  
and playing with her breasts, and she sat there, not too responsive. I,  
of course, was in my element. The son seemed somewhat embarrassed so I  
thought I would help him out and I led him over to the bed. We lay down  
together and he started fondling me in a crude, embarrassed sort of  
way. I stroked his penis but after a while it became clear he was too  
nervous with his father watching to get an erection that way. So I bent  
over him and kissed his penis and I began to give him oral sex, and  
eventually that worked, and he ejaculated in my mouth. I swallowed it  
right away, which surprised him, and his dad, and perhaps my mom too.  
But it was second nature to me. I saw their surprise, however, so I  
made believe it was an accident. Whatever it was, the event aroused his  
father quite visibly. His penis was fiercely erect and he didn't try to  
hide it. He put on a condom and he had vaginal sex with my mom,  
although she was still too bewildered to do much besides lie there. I  
wondered how much fun it could have been for either of them.

The next morning I awoke and we were all still naked and I saw that my  
mom and he were having sex again, with a bit more excitement on the  
part of both this time. I saw that the son had a morning erection. I  
didn't want to waste the opportunity, so trying not to awaken him I got  
some KY and lubricated myself, and while the son was lying back asleep  
with his hard-on I managed to lower my vagina over it, and I lay down  
over him kissing him and, of course, waking him. [Ironic, but did you  
know that KY stands for [K]no[w] [Y]use? -- Carol
<>] Meanwhile  
his father had stopped what he was doing and just stared. I got the son  
to turn over so that he was on top and I was on bottom, and fortunately  
his erection was still there, and we just had sex that way. Not very  
remarkable sex for me at least, but his father was well pleased. I  
could see it in his face. I saw his father staring at a thin stream of  
semen that went from my vagina, across my leg and down to the sheet.  
After the father had finished up with my mom, and after we were all  
washed and dressed, he gave his son $200 and told him to see that I  
bought some nice things. I did get a really cute bikini and a top and  
some other stuff, but the money didn't go very far. We spent most of  
our time at a topless beach, so I only got to wear half the bikini most  
of the time. More to the point, the son didn't have any trouble with an  
erection after that, but neither was he very imaginative in bed nor  
much interested in learning. The last day, his father bought me and my  
mom very expensive gold necklaces; I still have mine. The vacation was  
great for its own sake, but of course what I most remember about it was  
the father's reason for inviting us, and his staring at us while we had  
sex. The sex itself was not, as Carol would put it "memorable". I got  
to wonder how different it would have been if it had been my dad there,  
maybe with Mom's Friend, having sex in the next bed. Today I would  
welcome them; back then, I don't know how I would have felt. Funny, I  
guess. It isn't that I wasn't freely nude in front of my dad but that  
he was away so much in the early years and it wasn't an everyday thing.  
  Also, it just worked out that I wasn't close by most of the time when  
he was having sex, I guess because Mom's Friend had her own room and  
even if she didn't close the door it wasn't near where any of us would  
be. It's just that I'd never seen them so close up. Later, when my dad  
began spending more time at home and he was there in the summer I would  
see him and Mom's Friend having fun oblivious to me in the back yard,  
but that was different somehow.

So, what would I advise other girls? What about the next generation?  
Well, things are harder now. The sex police, as Carol put it, are out  
to get you, and if you raise kids the way they should be raised so they  
can see life and love as they are really lived, you have to think ahead  
to the possibility of someone spiteful -- maybe an ex partner or a  
neighbor -- reporting you for child abuse. My own mom had such a  
beautiful body -- she'd been a model when the Children of God snared  
her -- that it was lovely to see her in movement. She must have  
followed Moses David's line on sex when she was there, so she can't  
have been na´ve in any way about sex. But I rarely saw her, and never  
that I can remember, until the time in Mexico, naked with a man. As I  
said, she wasn't a prude, and I can't say that she wouldn't consent to  
have sex in public if invited, if others were doing it, under other  
circumstances. However, she'd been badly affected by her time in the  
COG and couldn't stay in one place long, or relate to people well for  
any length of time. Carol said that her Mom would show her the sticky  
penis of her lover after they'd had sex, and let her touch it if she  
wanted. Without a custodial mom and with my dad away most of the time I  
didn't have that exposure. As it turns out, it made a difference.  
Without such early impressions of sex from a parent I had to get my  
impressions from others, from more distant adults and from my peers,  
and it's not the same. There isn't that bond of trust and confidence  
for a toddler as when it's her own mom doing it. So only in puberty did  
I focus on the issue of how lovely sex is, it and its aftermath. Other  
girls said they could hardly wait to grow up, to reach puberty, to take  
up their birthright. As I said, I didn't think, when I was little, that  
I'd EVER get to that stage. Yet almost right from the day of that pool  
party, or anyway from my first oral sex in the basement, I liked  
nothing better than to take a penis through the cycle of limp to  
semi-hard, to really stiff, to orgasm, all in my mouth. And then to  
spend time with the semen. Penis in vagina is nice, too. But like  
Carol, I have to know that my man is going to spend a lot of effort to  
make me satisfied and happy, and is going still to be there afterwards.  
I have a nice body, and if he's going to enjoy it I want to too.

For my children, well I would want them to see us often and close up  
having sex and loving it. I think that for kids it's just another life  
function; but they should know it's special, lovely, extremely  
pleasurable. Why should you keep it a secret from kids that you've had  
an argument, and you have sex, and suddenly you're not mad at each  
other anymore? What right does the state have to say that you can't  
expose your kids to the loveliest exchange, indeed loveliest  
intercourse, that nature has conceived? And I would like my kids to see  
other kids naked, and to see other kids going through puberty and  
having sex and to know that it's normal, nothing to be ashamed of; that  
it's a gift, one that you can and should use and enjoy. Again and  
again. And again. Look, I was 11 years old, and it didn't do me any  
harm. OK not everybody starts puberty at that age, but that's a  
separate issue. Kids should start when they're ready and when they want  
to. But they should be armed with the knowledge from the youngest age.  
That's the best defense against the pedophiles. And against frigidity  
too, among other ills. Carol's story about masturbating the boy and  
being surprised by his semen and not knowing quite what to do with it  
was cute. I suppose it could have happened to me, although it didn't. I  
wasn't brave enough at that stage. Now I sort of wish I had if only  
because it would have given me something to talk about. I have to say  
that by age 10 I used to dream of semen spurting from a boy's penis and  
wonder just how it came about, what made the semen spurt with such  
force. I'd seen it from a distance, never close up, until the pool  
party. I had never touched a penis, except maybe to change a baby's  
diaper. If I asked a girl about it she'd say the only way to know was  
to be there, to hold a penis and make it happen. Well, no boy of my age  
I knew had reached puberty, so I'd have to wait. However understanding  
older girls are, you know they don't want younger kids getting under  
foot during their lovemaking. Kids could look, but from out of reach. I  
don't mean to carry on about this, just to say that it's different when  
you saw it as a toddler, as most of the girls in Mom's Friend's house  
did, when your mom is having sex and she doesn't mind you being right  
there. So, instead of close-up, hands-on training, so to speak, I had,  
as they say in another context, "distance learning". Like Carol, I  
don't see how anybody, any authorities, can justify intervening when  
parents decide to educate their kids about sex through example. It  
doesn't hurt anybody except the sensibilities of some hypocritical  
prosecutor or politician. But the authorities DO intervene. So, to  
protect your family what do you do? Get a second passport of  
convenience? (Melchizedek anyone?
<>) Have lots of money and a plan  
to emigrate? COG colonies tended to have "flee bags" on hand, with cash  
and passports ready.
I think of that Swiss family that Carol mentioned.
<>. Let's remember that  
David Berg emigrated, too, to get away from the sex police. (Ah, how we  
live in the shadow of a man long dead, whose church our parents  
abandoned soon after our birth, a man who perhaps was no more holy than  
Rev. Jim Jones (of the People's Temple and Jonestown, Guyana), Jimmy  
Swaggart (the televangelist of the Family Worship Center), all those  
Catholic bishops including notably Anthony J. O'Connell
<>, a  
number of very Christian presidents and several long-dead popes. And to  
think that at the end Moses David was impotent; in the Ward judgment he  
was accused of oral sex on a 9-year-old without penetration.)

Carol put it rather cutely about what she'd like for her son and her  
daughter: she'd like nothing better than to see her daughter, in  
mid-puberty, budding breasts, fluffy vulva, admiring the stiff, growing  
penis of a pubescent partner, and then both of them, breathless after  
orgasm, relishing the boy's semen. And she'd be proud to see her son,  
his penis made stiff by his sexy young girlfriend, received into that  
girls mouth and vagina, and afterwards some of his semen leaking out  
from her as testimony to their joint pleasure. What lovely images; but  
she will readily admit that's all the are. They run counter to  
everything outside culture argues for: extreme privacy and contrived  
repulsion at others' public sex, pretense of purity of minors. Actually  
the way things are going with our respective selves, and after meeting  
a few of Carol's staid and mainstream friends here in the Capital City,  
I think those images could more likely to apply to me, rather than to  
Carol. But they can't, because there isn't, and never again will be in  
my lifetime, a viable pool of candidates, refugees from some other,  
harsher belief and practice. Still, Carol and I can dream, can't we? In  
real life, as Carol and I well know, contemporary external mores, laws  
and the administration of those laws make it unlikely. Mom's Friend's  
house was a last bastion of liberal sex as part and parcel of religion,  
and it was not even representative of the sect from which it derived  
because unlike that sect it respected individual rights and personal  
choice. There are other religions with curious sexual regimes:  
breakaway Mormons, such as the "Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ  
of Latter-day Saints", that promote celestial marriage for one. (Many  
of those fled to Mexico after the persecution of the Mormons in the  
19th Century: is that a lesson for us?) What Carol has written, and  
what I have said this weekend, is a historical account of the way we  
were, not of the way we could be, the way we are, or the way we will  
be. The 60s are gone, and we were dependent upon the 60s, upon our  
parents, children of the 60s, for our ethic, indeed our existence. But  
let me finish my story of myself, as if the above digression into  
reality hadn't occurred. I have projected an image, but one that could  
only come to pass in a self-sufficient colony or commune of our own or  
in a distant land.

People who haven't known us, and I guess who haven't seen me in love,  
sometimes say I'm fixated on oral sex. First, that's stupid since I'm  
scarcely a young girl who might have reason to pretend she's not having  
sex and who claims that "oral sex doesn't count", and so I have no  
reason to distinguish between types of sex. And second, since everybody  
(I assume) agrees that having a boy's penis in your mouth is fine for  
foreplay, why shouldn't it be fine for the main course? And who would  
say that oral sex is abnormal? Some dirty old man, a politician who's  
probably abusing his granddaughters at the same time as he's railing  
against sodomy and pederasty, but visiting Cambodia, Thailand and the  
Philippines on sex tours. One who'd make Onan proud. He wants to keep  
women barefoot and pregnant, to say the least. I still say that the  
grandest sight is the stiff penis attached to a boy I love, with maybe  
a drop or two of pre-cum at its tip, eager for my mouth. Because I love  
to put my tongue on it, to put it between my lips, to make love to it,  
as Carol puts it. How can I describe the feeling, the emotion, of being  
with a boy I love, his penis erect for me, touching it, caressing its  
smoothness. Holding its tip for a moment on the threshold of my mouth,  
just between my lips, moistening the tip with my tongue, promising it  
my love. Then I will kiss and massage and lick it all over and, after a  
while, satisfied it will give me its semen and I will love it; and then  
it will come out of my mouth sticky and wet, his stickiness mixed with  
my wetness. There is no more beautiful happening. Who wouldn't love to  
see it? Who wouldn't dream of it? There is no more beautiful happening.  
Who wouldn't love to see it? Who wouldn't dream of it? There is  
something so sensuous about that moment; it is the epitome of love.  
What is more the anticipation or the memory of the boy's mouth at her  
vagina contributes to making the girl's gift of her mouth to her lover  
so satisfying for her. Oral sex is far more than a "forbidden pleasure"  
of teens: it is the most sophisticated and pleasurable exercise of love.

I would be dancing nude with a boy, and his penis would climb up  
against me, and I'd look down, and I'd feel so important. If there were  
others about, and if perchance that penis found its way to my mouth,  
well, I was glad to put on a show. Provided only that the boy met my  
standards and was responsive to my own needs. What is that they say  
about pornography: "ejaculation must not only be done but, like  
justice, be seen to be done". From my standpoint it's all a matter of  
sex as art and as artistry. Not only do I want a good time to be had by  
all -- including most especially me -- but I want to put on a good  
show, even if there are only two of us in the room. It's always  
sensuous for my partner to be arousing me with his tongue, but the show  
of penis in mouth is the most glorious drama ever played. OK, we all  
know how it's going to end, but even so. Unlike my vagina, my mouth can  
take note of every curve and bump of my man's penis, I can run my  
tongue over its beautiful tip, I can respond the moment he starts to  
come with increased force or gentleness, I can take his semen and  
relish it. And he can see all of that in action. I see my partner's  
erection, desperate and longing just for me, and I can't wait to make  
it happy and make it respond to my caresses. If I have my say my kids  
will grow up as I did, seeing how much love is expressed between a man  
and a woman sharing his penis and his semen, and they will know forever  
that it's the most beautiful thing in the world, without having  
hang-ups, without having inhibitions, shame or embarrassment. They will  
start their sex lives before such inhibitions and complexes can develop.

Carol has hinted at, but not addressed, the change going on at Mom's  
Friend's house. Started as a refuge for single-parent leavers from the  
Children of God, it has now become virtually a retirement home. Only  
one person is still in regular employment, the mother of the  
nearly-12-year-old boy in the essay "On Puberty"
<>. Only those two children remain,  
and of course to protect them from attack by the "child welfare"  
authorities, their anonymity has to be maintained until they are past  
the age of consent.
<> My boyfriend and I, and  
our house-sharing co-tenants are doing what we can to preserve some  
small trace of the way of life I grew up in and have come to love. But  
we have to acknowledge that the 60s are gone, the communes are gone,  
and the Children of God (now "The Family") is virtually gone. Reporting  
laws mean that there is no longer doctor-patient or  
teacher-pupil-parent confidentiality. Can one live, in the 21st  
century, the life we enjoyed? Could and would our offspring benefit  
from liberality and freedom? I don't know; but probably not in the USA.  
Carol and I spent hours discussing that question during my visit. I  
have no doubt that there are "safe houses" where the life we led lives  
on, just as there are uncountable plural families out there in Utah and  
surrounding states, indeed some towns where every public official is  
secretly committed to celestial marriage. Maybe naturism is a common  
cover for sexual liberalism (I can't use the word libertinism, which  
sounds nice, because it implies dissoluteness and licentiousness). The  
price of overt liberalism is high: it's divorce from the economic  
mainstream and the good life. But discreet liberalism? As for our old  
home and the kind of life we led in it: there is but one young couple  
left, paired off in love and sex as they enter their teen years in a  
manner illicit in Western law. There will never again by small children  
in Mom's Friend's house. I'm convinced that last young couple's  
relationship is real and stable, teenage physical and spiritual and  
passionate love like that Romeo and Juliet and of Nat King Cole's song,  
but who's to judge? Is theirs to be the last such couple anywhere? To  
underline the hypocrisy of the sex police, sexual liaisons at any age  
are scarcely today dependent upon expectation of permanence. Marriage  
is impermanent. I can only say that knowing how hard it was to pair off  
adolescents during my stint as matchmaker at Mom's House I can only say  
that their case is one of unbelievable luck, commitment and fidelity.  
And troublesome in a sense, since having grown up together from  
infancy, isn't there a whiff of quasi-incest about their relationship?  
Or has Woody Allen's marriage to his wife's adopted daughter Soon-Yi  
Previn resolved that question? ("I now pronounce you father and wife"

On these subjects, and on my approach to sex and to love generally,  
there is, of course, much more to say than I have time for today. Let  
me close only with my views on love; they don't depend on any  
particular regime of sex or community or outrageous conduct. My love is  
conditional: the boy must arouse me, must appreciate my body, must  
promise to bring, or try to bring, me to orgasm too. He must make me  
feel beautiful, and wanted, and sexy. He must share with me, and make  
me look beautiful to others, show me a good time, put me on a pedestal.  
This is not, of course to forget that he must stimulate my mind too,  
and carry his weight financially, and so on. Sex may be the beginning  
and the end of this waltz, but there is much in between.

"Terrific Girl"

(Edited, with addition of links, by Carol)

[Note from Carol: I have appreciated comments and support, especially  
on the political aspect of these writings. There's no use, however,  
referring me to other ASSM postings as that is not a list of "girly"  
interest. While I'm grateful to the forum for the opportunity to try  
out my autobiographical style and get criticism and other feedback and  
correction of obvious factual errors, I'm not a subscriber. I hope this  
essay will be seen as support for my own manifesto. The trouble with my  
manifesto, of course, as Terrific Girl points out, is that it relates  
to the past, it argues for a freedom for which there is probably no  
real constituency. While admitting that even the person making the  
argument has rejected that freedom in exchange for the conventions of a  
great job and a nice urban life. What is a political manifesto doing in  
a purely historical memoir anyway? There is no use proselytizing for a  
communal movement that has had its day. Here in the Capital City,  
indeed even back in Our Town, there is little trace of the 60s except  
in ... the memories of a bunch of graying elders. It was good to have  
Terrific Girl in town to bring me back down to reality on these points.

[Think: Mom and Mom's Friend -- like Miriam Williams, author of  
"Heaven's Harlots" -- dropped out of college to join the Children of  
God. But what did these same women want most for their own children  
when the time came but the very best education and a return to the same  
professional middle class that they had abandoned for Moses David and  
his regimented "freedoms" (really, his "freedom from thought"). We want  
liberation, of life and of sex, for our kids. But not at the expense of  
everything else; and the secrecy and closeted life involved (and  
indeed, today, the threat from STDs and predators of various kinds, not  
to mention the law) means that, most probably, we will just wait for  
society's ethic to approach (lower itself to?) ours. So instead of  
enforcing nudity, do we just let the television and the Internet and  
the most forward of their friends educate our kids on sex? Will the  
kids wind up at the same place anyway after they learn oral sex on the  
school bus? I don't know. I intend to ask Mom her views next time I  
visit her, and you can watch this space.

[There have been a few typos and skipped words in virtually every essay  
I've posted. My apologies, but I rely on my word processor to catch  
them, and it doesn't always do its job. And I write this stuff in  
airports usually, waiting for my next flight. That's the only free time  
I have these days. For example, in my essay on nudity, for "Our Time",  
read "Our Town".]

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