• • •
JWW: Edith and I discussed several of her cases, the various experiences she had had, the various techniques, both mental and physical, she found particularly useful. All of what she said was useful and interesting, but what I wanted most was a sense of the day-to-day progress of a two-week session. She suggested with a smile that the best way to acquire such an understanding would be for me to go through the program myself, and that I could surely write off the fee as a business expense. While the notion was by no means unattractive, I told her I would have to pass.
“Actually,” she said, “I’d have trouble fitting you in.” At first I interpreted her remarks physiologically and was somewhat puzzled, but she went on to explain that she had a full load of cases booked for the rest of the month. Then she suggested that she might take one of her patients and make notes each day on the course his treatment had taken. I told her this would be ideal, and she agreed to get in touch with me when her notes were ready.
She did so in due course, apologizing that the notes themselves were in rather rough form. “I just jotted things down each day right after he left,” she said. “But you’ll probably be able to work them up into something elaborate.”
I have no doubt that I could work Edith’s notes up into something more or less elaborate, but I’ve decided not to do so. In any interviewing situation, the interviewer inevitably functions to a greater or lesser degree as a filter, altering reality by virtue of his own perceptions. Thus whenever possible I try to minimize my own role in these processes, reproducing letters more or less verbatim, rendering material insofar as possible in a subject’s words. Here, then, but for the deletion of a very small amount of totally extraneous matter, are Edith’s notes as I received them.
• • •
EDITH:
Day One.
He called me this morning to confirm his appointment, arrived precisely at 11 a.m. Always exciting to answer the door and see what he’s like. I know something about him from Henry. He’s 28, tax lawyer, divorced. Marriage fell apart a year ago. Sex contributed to the breakup. Since then he’s had a few affairs, nothing serious because of his sex problems. Which are: periodic impotence, periodic premature ejaculation, infrequent but occasional inability to reach climax in prolonged intercourse. Diagnosis: general sexual insecurity. Has told Henry he can’t count on it, can’t be sure he’ll be able to perform well. Which is what he wants.
He’s good looking, medium height, about ten or fifteen pounds overweight. Jewish. We sit on the couch, drink coffee. Neck a little. He has soft hands, a nice touch. Very breast-oriented. Very tentative about touching my cunt. Not fear. Nervous about proceeding too fast? Maybe.
We get undressed, sit around naked then go to bed and play with each other. He gets an erection almost immediately. Doesn’t try to do anything with it—that’s not the program yet—and it goes away almost immediately. He says this happens a lot, he’ll get excited, then lose the erection early, and be unable to get it back. I tell him we’ll cure this and not to worry.
We play with each other for a long time. He eats me a little, not too expert though. I ask him to masturbate me. We lie on sides, facing each other, eyes close together, under instructions to maintain eye contact. I take his finger and finger myself with it, getting the rhythm for him, then let him finger me while I lie there digging it. Nice little come, no need to fake it, and I tell him how good it was. I play with him and get him hard. Then squeeze him and it softens. Then get him hard again, squeeze again, soft again, then hard again. “See how easy? Each time it goes away and each time it comes back.” He begs to fuck me but I say not on the agenda for today. I play with him and he has a nice firm hard-on, no danger of coming prematurely. I say “Now we’ll come, touch me so we can come together.” We’re side by side facing each other and playing with each other and just as he’s about to come I fake one as I pull him off. He moans beautifully as he shoots on my stomach. We lie there saying how good we feel and I get a gob of his come on my finger and gobble it up, making yummy sounds and saying how much fun we’re going to have together.
Day Two.
More of the same. He’s a little surer of himself this time. His penis is half erect when we get undressed and hardens the instant I touch it. I let him keep the erection for a while, then squeeze it away.
He eats me a little. I teach him, not by saying anything but by letting him learn my response, moaning and panting when he does it right, cooling off when he doesn’t. I perform fellatio, turning him off each time with the squeeze when he gets close to a climax.
At the end I mount him. His erection softens when it’s inside me. I use my muscles and it comes back again. Then I have him lie very still while I fuck him: I slow down each time he starts to get excited. Eventually I sense he’s about to come so I fake a fit of passion and pretend to come when he does. He wasn’t able to hold it back, but thinks he held out since I came when he did. Afterward I suck him a little, enough to get him hard, then squeeze him soft and send him on his merry way.
Day Three.
Oral time. Devoted almost the whole session to an endless sixty-nine. Each time he was about to come I squeezed him. He regained his erection automatically. I barely had to take him in my mouth, and toward the end he seemed to have no trouble holding out indefinitely. Then I told him this time he was going to come in my mouth. Just as he was about to, I gave him the squeeze again, really putting the pressure on, and at the same instant going into a delicious come that I didn’t have to fake an inch of. I told him I had gotten greedy and wanted him to fuck me. Which he did, me on top, and lasted a long time.
Day Four.
He no longer has any trouble getting hard. Today we practiced him holding it back himself. I jerked him, sucked him, then fucked him with me on top, and each time he held it back. The urination exercises are paying off. He lost his erection a couple of times when he held it back, but the other times he maintained it, then took a breath and went right back to work. He had a nice orgasm when I told him it was time. Then we played around and he got hard again and we did it with him on top. I told him this time to see how fast he could come. It took him ten minutes!
Day Five.
Maybe I should make notes on another case instead. He’s too easy. We spent almost two full hours fucking. He had an orgasm early on but it didn’t faze him and he got hard again and we got it on again. He’s going to be a wonderful lover. I knew from the beginning he would be good because he has such a divine sense of touch. By now he’s learned to really groove on my body. I gather he was never really at ease with female bodies before. He appreciated them but didn’t understand them. He said today that he had never understood a cunt before. I thought at first he meant he had never understood a woman, but found out he meant the sex organ per se. He did not know what a cunt was all about.
He’s certainly learning.
Well, therapy is halfway over. Reading through these notes, I’m dissatisfied, wondering why they don’t seem to have the sense of progress which was present in actuality. Perhaps I’m just better at fucking than writing.
Tomorrow and Sunday he’s on his own. As he is single and lives in Manhattan he could see me seven days straight, unlike commuters and family men who can’t get away, but a girl needs her rest. Also now he is supposed to try to make it on his own. Tomorrow night he will be seeing a girl he fucked once before, and Sunday he will try to pick someone up. And Monday he will come back here and fuck his brains out some more.
Day Six.
He was quite pleased with himself. He had a date Saturday night with the girl he’d told me about. Didn’t try to fuck her, though. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. He had a good time with her and is seeing her again tomorrow night. Sunday he went to a singles bar and scored. Says he was never good at bar pickups in the past, but made out this time, perhaps because of increased self-confidence. Or perhaps because he was so determined, as it was like a homework assignment for him to go out and get l
aid on his own.
Either way, I guess it went well enough. He picked up a young girl, took her back to her apartment and screwed her. According to him, he was Superman. Said she kept telling him he was fantastic.
He was certainly not bad today. I taught him a couple of new positions. He also suggested we try doggie-style, which we did. I pretended to enjoy it more than I did. Now is the time for him to make the suggestions so that he gets into the idea of directing things.
Day Seven.
More of the same. He’s really becoming very good.
He expressed a desire to fuck me in the ass. I told him I was afraid he was too big. I fully intend to have him that way before the week is over but I’d rather make him wait a little.
He’s seeing Claire tonight, the former fuck whom he took out Saturday night. I hope he didn’t leave the whole thing in the gym, as he got off twice this afternoon. Actually, that makes no difference. If you’re really together, you can fuck no matter how much you’ve done a few hours ago. Within reason, anyway.
Day Eight.
He spent the night with Claire, fucked her twice last night and once this morning, and I gather he was in top form. He had had a brief affair with her previously and his performance then was so-so, impotence a couple of times, nothing terrific. Claire told him this a.m. she had never realized what a wonderful lover he was. He saw no reason to tell her that his talent was a recent development.
We made it, and then I suggested that we eat each other. He said something about didn’t I want to wash up first, and I told him come wasn’t dirty. He was a little hesitant at the idea of eating his semen out of me but also a little turned on by the idea.
I like to blow minds. I really do. That is undoubtedly one of the satisfactions of this. Henry was a little uncertain when I first started introducing things like this. He felt there was a difference between developing sexual adequacy and expanding sexual horizons. I agree that there’s a difference. But believe the two go together. It’s all a part of being sexually liberated.
At any rate, the two of us ate each other with considerable enthusiasm.
Tomorrow’s bondage time!
Day Nine.
Last night the pupil turned teacher. He and Claire screwed, then he suggested they eat each other. According to him, she was really disgusted at the idea, but went along with it. And enjoyed herself before it was over.
Today I told him we would play a game. I was going to tie him up and try to make him come, and he should try to go the entire hour without coming or losing his erection. He asked what his reward would be if he lasted the entire hour, and I told him he could then tie me up for the second hour.
It was nice and freaky. I don’t do this with many of my patients. I have to be able to trust them enormously, because it is very scary being unable to move and having someone coming on sexually with you. If I have any hesitation whatsoever I never bring the subject up. But he’s a pussycat, I knew he’d be all right.
I don’t know if he could have held out if I gave it everything I had, but naturally the object is to let him win. Even if he’d lost I’d have let him tie me up for the second hour, but I did a few things to keep him from losing. Like when it seemed as though he might not be able to hold out I varied the rhythm of what I was doing to give him a chance to get hold of himself.
Then he tied me up and drove me nicely crazy. It’s fantastic that I get paid for this sort of thing.
On the way out I told him it might not be a bright idea to rush Claire into a bondage situation. He agreed that it would wait until the two of them knew each other a whole lot better. Right now he’s considering having Claire live with him, but he wants to wait on that until he’s had some experience with other girls. I told him I thought that was a good idea.
Fortunately he doesn’t seem to be falling in love with me. Men in his situation, recently divorced, aren’t as likely to as some of the others. Especially the married ones. This can be something of a problem. They have a wonderful time balling me, and then they go home and ball their wives, and they perform brilliantly with their wives, and they still don’t really enjoy it very much, because when all is said and done their wives still bore the piss out of them. So they figure that I’m the significant variable and they’re in love with me. This often happens if they’re not used to cheating. I’m always able to handle it, and also I report it to Henry, who reinforces the idea in their minds that this is a business relationship and that I’m not about to get personally involved and they’re only getting involved because of a head trip they’re on.
The funny thing is I hate it when they think they’re in love with me, and when a guy like this one obviously isn’t in love with me, then I find myself getting faintly jealous. Fortunately I have enough sense to laugh at myself when this happens.
I think he’ll ultimately marry Claire, but I just hope he’ll have the brains not to rush into it.
Day Ten.
The last day, and it’s as always, both a relief and sort of sad. Because on the one hand we’ve done just about everything you can do, and the discovery part is over, and after a much longer relationship the fact that we have no emotional thing for each other would begin to be a drag. Also once a case is concluded it becomes part of the past, it’s a personal success I can lock up as a memory, and there’s a feeling of great satisfaction in that.
Still, it’s sad when anything comes to an end.
He buggered me today. I suggested it and he said he thought he was too large for me, and I said I thought I could handle it. I said he might want to do it to good ol’ Claire, and he ought to know what he was doing first.
He’s not really particularly large. About average. Ninety-five cocks out of a hundred are more or less the same size. Of course I always make a big fuss over a man’s cock. I learned this years ago. Every man has a hang-up about his penis. Even if he’s hung like a horse he worries it’s too small, too short or too narrow or too ugly or what-the-hell. If the first thing that happened to a man every morning was for a beautiful girl to whisper in his ear, “You have the most beautiful cock in the world,” I’m convinced he would sail through life without a care in the world.
He had a little trouble getting into me, but not too much, and then he came after three or four strokes. He was a little disappointed, but I acted as if it was taken for granted that would happen. Told him it was good he was getting some practice at it, and when he did it a second time he was in control. I didn’t care for it much—I generally don’t, unless I’m in an extremely passionate mood—but it wasn’t too bad.
When the two hours was up I did something I invented. He was dressed, and we had had a graduation drink together and said our good-byes, and when he had one foot out the door I stopped him and groped him a little.
I said, “I’m not really supposed to do this, but are you feeling strong? Because I’d dig it if we could make it one last time?”
Henry has told me not to do this if there is any danger of the guy fancying himself in love with me. There wasn’t in this case, so I did it. The way I see it, it’s an excellent way to convince a man that his fucking is genuinely desirable and enjoyable. Which in this case it was.
That’s ten days of it and I really don’t know what else to put down. I don’t know if it’s right to say that he was typical or not. Nobody is typical, they are all different people with different heads. I learned a lot about him, about what was on his mind, about his background, all of that. I haven’t put any of that down here. Professional ethics??? Maybe, or just that it’s been difficult enough just making a few brief notes on what happened.
My final impressions: he’s a nice decent guy who never got himself together sexually, and his wife may or may not have been a bitch, it’s hard to say, but the marriage was never good sexually and he had a lot of hang-ups to get over and a lot of things to learn, and I think he’s in good shape now, and I had something to do with it, and I’m glad.
• • •
JWW: I l
et Henry have a look at Edith’s notes, after first determining that she had no objection to his doing so. He offered the following comments:
HENRY: She’s become very good at this and doesn’t need much direction. She has an excellent sense of character. During the first week she always stays fairly close to formula, but in the second week she uses her imagination and suits the program to the individual. I favor this, since one of the purposes of the second week is to encourage the patient to take charge of situations.
I’m sure that some of the things Edith does are for her own benefit. Her techniques of mind-blowing, or expanding sexual horizons, come under this heading. At first I was a little reluctant to endorse this wholeheartedly. Now, in addition to seeing some real advantages to the patient, I also feel that there is the distinct advantage of Edith’s enjoyment; in other words, the fact that she’s getting genuine pleasure out of this can’t help but work to the client’s benefit.
Another advantage lies in the fact that the experimentation of the second week takes the whole course of treatment out of the specifically therapeutic area and adds a dimension of pleasure-for-its-own-sake to it. I think this has value, also.
Of course not every girl functioning as a sexual therapist would be capable of what Edith describes here, any more than every prostitute would be capable of functioning as a sexual therapist. That should go without saying.
As far as Edith is concerned, I think all of this has been of enormous benefit to her. My own bias can’t be completely dismissed; naturally it would please me to think so. Nevertheless, I’ve observed her all along, and she’s much better-adjusted and has a far happier and more positive outlook as time goes by. I suspect that it will not be long before she finds herself to have evolved out of the role of sexual therapist, just as she earlier evolved out of the role of prostitute. From a selfish standpoint I’ll be sorry to see this happen. She’s good, and in that sense I’ll hate to lose her as a therapist. But I think as time passes she’ll find herself capable of a deeper and more permanent relationship with a man, and as this comes to pass she’ll find her financial goals and her desire for personal independence less commanding in importance.
The Sex Therapists: What They Can Do and How They Do It (John Warren Wells on Sexual Behavior Book 15) Page 3
