ARNOLD: I told her to wait at least a few months before she told him about the way the family works, but you know how it is when you’re young. They were going at it like rabbits just about every night, and we all teased Faye about the circles under her eyes. It wasn’t six weeks before she let him in on what was happening.
PHYLLIS: She had the sense to do it intelligently. We had all met Ted several times by now, of course, and we liked him very much. As a matter of fact, we were all anxious for Faye to get things started so that we could have a turn with him. I was even a little jealous of my daughter—she had a man whom I really wanted! Finally Greg and the two of us went out for the evening and June stayed home, and Faye brought Ted over to the house. June was dressed as sexy as possible and she kept playing up to Ted and Faye knew he wanted her. So on a signal June left the room and Faye told him that poor June was horny. Then she told him he really ought to go in and give her some good screwing.
ARNOLD: I reckon you could have knocked that boy over with flyswatter.
PHYLLIS: It took her a few seconds to convince him that it was all serious. Once he knew she wasn’t kidding, Ted didn’t waste any time. He gave June a lot of loving, and then Faye went on in and joined the two of them, and they had themselves a session. Afterward she and June filled Ted in on the whole story. They sort of soft-pedaled the male homosexual angle because that generally takes some getting used to, but it turned out that Ted had been down that particular road in the past and it was all fine with him. Faye had expected he would be shook up by the whole thing, but hoped he would like the idea when he’d had chance to think it over. He didn’t have to think at all. When she and June were done talking, he just looked her straight in the eye and asked her to marry him. Just like that, straight out of the blue. When we got home later on they made their announcement.
ARNOLD: I said it surely called for celebration and I’d break out a bottle of champagne. And just as cool as you please Ted said he had better idea and that we should all take off our clothes and go to the master bedroom. And when he said that I knew he’d fit in just fine, and you wouldn’t believe the night we had.
• • •
Faye and Ted have their own house less than a mile from the Harrisons. They meet frequently with the family and also do some swinging on their own with other young couples. At the time of the interview, however, they were limiting Faye’s contacts with males other than her husband (and her sterile father) to extracoital copulation; Faye had stopped taking the pills and wanted to be sure she was impregnated by her husband. The couple plan to have at least four children and possibly more, and intend to raise their children in an atmosphere of complete sexual freedom just as Faye herself was raised.
Thus Arnold can look forward in a dozen years or so to having sex with his own grandsons and granddaughters.
As one might expect, both June and Gregory have every intention of making marriages for themselves very much like Faye’s. Should these plans be carried out, and should each couple have four children, and should these children follow in the footsteps of their parents—
This line of thought calls to mind the fact that the offspring of a single housefly, should all survive and reproduce for a year, would total some truly astronomical figure. If every seed produced by a single elm tree grew up into mature tree, the entire land surface of the earth would be one big forest. Or, as Dorothy Parker observed, if all the girls at the Yale Prom were laid end to end, I wouldn’t be at all surprised.
After interviewing the Harrisons—and especially now, after having listened again to my tapes of the interview and writing these lines—I feel as though nothing will ever surprise me again. When he reaches his mid-fifties, Arnold Harrison will be able to have sex with a dozen grandchildren. Should he survive into his seventies (and while I do not wish him ill, neither can I somehow bring myself to wish him well) he will be able to add forty-eight great-grandchildren to his sexual stable. If he lives to be hundred . . .
Further speculation seems pointless, and of interest only as a mathematical exercise. On the one hand, I am well aware of the fact that the Harrison family is in no sense representative of a significant portion of the American public. Even in the sexual underground itself, they are statistically insignificant.
And yet I cannot avoid wondering if the sexual revolution might not in the end follow in the footsteps of the Harrisons and others like them. While I am unable to discover any empirical evidence pointing in this direction, I can argue theoretically that the overthrowing of this most persistent sexual proscription might be a wholly logical progression in the liberalization of our sexual mores.
One of the more interesting facets of the hippie movement seems to point in this same direction. I refer to the several hippie tribes and families which have sprung up in recent months, most of them in wilderness areas of northern California. While biological incest does not play a part in these groups, at least to my knowledge, the groups are structured along the lines of clans or mega-families, with free-love relationships the rule throughout the group and with even the wisest child incapable of knowing his own father. One might take the position that relations between members of these mega-families constitute social if not biological incest.
This is all speculative, to be sure. But I doubt that the average reader can readily dismiss any number of disturbing speculations after thoughtful consideration of the Harrison family.
And if one detects within oneself (as I am forced to admit I do) not only shock and disgust but a certain pronounced strain of perverse excitement regarding this family, it would seem more disturbing than ever.
Six:
Culture, Culture,
Who’s Got The Culture?
“We always specify in our ads that we’re especially interested in oral sex. From the club bulletins I’ve seen lately, it looks as though that’s the way the world is going. Swingers like to eat and be eaten and that’s all there is to it. Like most people, we just insert the standard phrase, fond of French culture, but there are other ways of saying it. Frenchspeaking or Francophile or just linguist. Some people just describe themselves as cultured, because the word by itself generally means oral sex.
“Well, about a month ago we had this couple over. They had written that they had never swung before but were anxious to learn. Judy and I both get a kick out of making it with newcomers once in a while. Most of the time they aren’t very good at it, but technique isn’t everything and there’s a special thrill in introducing a couple to the joys of swinging. You could even say it’s like the thrill you get out of having sex with a virgin. You’re being the first.
“These were two very attractive kids. I shouldn’t call them kids, really. They were both twenty-three, and Judy’s twenty-nine and I’m thirty, which isn’t what I’d call a generation gap by any means. But they seemed like kids because of the way they acted. Not just that they were new to swinging, but they were from some hick town in one of those states you fly over. They had only been in L.A. for three months and they were pretty square. But at the time I didn’t realize just how square they were.
“But very attractive, as I said. The gal was a real blonde with soft silky hair. I think she must have washed it in pure rain water from the day she was born. She was a tiny thing, I don’t think she was five feet tall, and she had an innocent face with round blue eyes. A very young body. Not boyish but built like a high-school girl, all sweet and bouncy but not quite ripe yet.
“The guy was good-looking in sort of a simple farmer way, which I guess is what he would have stayed if he hadn’t come out here. Judy told me he was extremely well hung. I couldn’t swear to that, because while we generally swing all in the same room we had decided not to that night. First-timers usually like privacy, which isn’t hard to understand.
“To get to the point, we had a few drinks and went through the usual routine of dancing to break the ice. This worked in a physical way—Judy had the farmer boy hot and bothered in no time at all, and the gal
was pretty warm herself. She panted so much when I touched her breasts that I thought she was going to come in her pants.
“It’s best, though, when you can establish some real rapport besides just physical excitement. Otherwise it’s nothing more than a matter of disembodied twats and whangs and mouths, and that’s kicks by itself but after you’ve been swinging awhile you want more than that. If that’s all you’ve got going for you, one becomes the same as the next in memory and you never really feel anything for your partners.
“What you really need is love. Corny, maybe, but true. And especially true when it comes to frenching. If you’re going to go down on another person you have to feel something more than simple sexual desire. Eating a person is basically the most selfless sexual act I know of. The thrill in it comes from giving pleasure to your partner. Oh, it’s true that a lot of people are only interested in quid pro quo—I’ve been with women who get no joy out of sucking but do it only so they can be sucked in return. Judy’s had the same experience with men. People like that are a bore, let me tell you, and nine times out of ten they’re lousy at it, too.
“So you do need love. Maybe it would be better to call it the illusion of love, because it certainly isn’t anything like the deep-down permanent love that Judy and I have for each other. But it’s some form of love all the same, and it comes out of an interest in and feeling for the person you’re with.
“Anyway, this rapport never materialized with these kids. That wasn’t too surprising because it figured that they were nervous, and besides our backgrounds were so different that we had little to talk about. We didn’t want to discuss sex out of the blue unless they brought it up, and they didn’t, so there wasn’t really much conversation to speak of. Conversation to speak of—that’s a brilliant construction, isn’t it?
“To get back to that evening, I told the gal I would show her the rest of the house. She knew what I meant, and we went upstairs to the bedroom. She went tense the minute we hit the stairs and I thought I might have trouble with her, but kept up some asinine conversation until we were in the bedroom with the door closed. Then I gave her a kiss, and she came to life as if someone had thrown a switch on.
“Meanwhile, of course, Judy and the farmer were getting acquainted in the living room. Our couch is a convertible—Judy says she doesn’t care much for Castro’s politics, but the man must have had swingers in mind when he designed couches. She told me she took a long time petting with him, then unzipped him and pulled out the prize from the Crackerjack box. As I mentioned, she was impressed. They turned the couch into a bed and got undressed, and he started to get on top of her but she slowed him down a little. Then she put her head in his lap and kissed him a few times and got down to business.
“He went absolutely crazy, she said. He didn’t last long at all, but even so he was so wildly excited that Judy had an orgasm of her own. She can do that in fellatio without even touching herself. It’s an oral orgasm which she’ll have to describe to you. Then when the smoke had cleared she looked at Farmer Jones and he was in a state of shock. It was then that she found out he had never had oral sex before. On top of that, he didn’t even know it existed! French culture was no tip-off in the ad, they just thought it meant we liked books and paintings. Can you imagine that?
“But Judy at least was lucky. The guy was absolutely crazy about it and was the world’s most willing pupil. As for me, I had real lulu on my hands.
“After the preliminaries the gal and I were naked on the bed. She had a really delicious body and her pubic hair was as fine and soft and blonde as the hair on her head, and as it happens blonde fluff down there is a minor fetish of mine. I loved her up gradually, spent a lot of time kissing her breasts, and she became very passionate. I used my hands on her twat while I worked my mouth down over her belly to her thighs, then nibbled my way north again and had a taste of honey.
“I might have gotten the same effect by sticking an icicle up her. She threw her whole body aside and sat up and asked me what in the name of God I was doing.
“We had some little conversation then. I thought she was putting me on at first and made a joke she didn’t get, which helped not at all. I eventually explained everything to her. I didn’t tell her that she would have to do anything to me, just that would I perform cunnilingus on her and that she should relax and enjoy it. By the time she agreed, any passion that had been there for us was long gone. I’m sure she wanted nothing more than to go home, and while I was determined to turn her on to frenching I wouldn’t really have been heartbroken if she had put on her clothes and gotten the hell out of there. But we took it from the top, and although she froze up again when I started tonguing her she thawed pretty quickly. She came very nicely and was happy about the whole thing.
“Afterward she asked how I would get my own pleasure, and I explained fellatio to her but told her it wasn’t necessary for her to try it if she didn’t want to. She obviously found the whole idea offensive, but she wanted to be fair and said she would do it if I would promise not to ejaculate in her mouth. The fact that she found this disgusting automatically turned me off—a woman who doesn’t want that is saying essentially that she finds a man’s seed nauseating, and a man would have to be a sadist to want to have a woman do something that disgusted her.
“I told myself it was ignorance on her part, plus the usual inhibitions. So I assured her that I’d give her ample warning so that we could finish coitially. I also did my best to explain to her how to manage the act. She really tried, but it was hopeless. She had no understanding of it and did it very poorly. Besides, I was so aware of her repugnance for the act that I was completely turned off. The more she tried, the less excited I got.
“She started crying, apologizing for herself, and I felt really tender toward her. I explained that it was an acquired skill—I almost said taste—and that she shouldn’t blame herself. Then I kissed her and petted her. She said something funny when we kissed, that she had never known before what she tasted like. We went on petting and then had ordinary vaginal intercourse. After the farce we’d been through it wasn’t the greatest thing in the world, but at least we both made it.
“Later on we all sat around and had coffee. Nobody said anything at first, and I figured we would all have our coffee and then they would leave, but the girl showed more spunk than I would have guessed possible. Right out of the blue she told Judy that frenching was a brand-new sport for her and her husband, and that she must be some sort of moron because she couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. And she came out and asked Judy to give her a lesson so that she could please me, and so that she would be able to please her husband the same way later on.
“Judy likes nothing better than to have people watching when she sucks a man, and I love to watch her. The farmer said he didn’t think anything could excite him now after all the sex he’d had already that night, but my little wife showed him how wrong he was. You know, I think said earlier that I hadn’t seen him naked. I was thinking about the early part of the evening, because obviously I saw him now.
“So did his wife. Judy made a real lesson of it, doing something and then stopping to explain what she was doing and how. I think one thing that impressed the girl was that Judy very obviously derived pleasure from her role in the act. To make a long story short, she fellated me afterward with them watching, and while she still had a lot to learn she was good enough so that I forgot to warn her, and she didn’t pull away either.
“Afterward I suggested a return lesson in cunnilingus, but the little blonde girl said it would have to wait for another evening because she couldn’t wait to get home and show her husband what she’d learned in school. And away the two of them went, and from the look in their eyes as they scampered out the door I’d give odds they didn’t make it all the way home. I’ll bet they parked around the corner and had a quick gobble first.”
• • •
The speaker quoted above was Herbert Wheeler, a customer’s man for a large brokerage h
ouse in downtown Los Angeles. He and his wife Judy share with a very sizable segment of the sexual underground an interest in oral sex that amounts to a preoccupation. While it is not their sole interest, it is invariably a major part of any evening devoted to swinging; in many such evenings only oral acts are performed.
It has become commonplace to interpret a preference for oral and/or anal sexual relations as a result of latent homosexuality, the rationale being that such acts form a major component of homosexual lovemaking. As critics of this approach have pointed out, homosexuals also kiss, dance, shake hands, and bathe; in short, they do all the things that heterosexuals do except have coitus. In this light the attribution of all extracoital pursuits as signs of homosexuality does seem quite off the mark.
Psychoanalysis suggests that childhood sexual development includes three stages, oral and anal and genital, and that a variety of personality traits derive from the individual’s fixation upon any of these stages. Sexual preferences also reflect the influence of the oral or anal stage. This may not mean that the little girl who sucks her thumb will grow up with an enthusiasm for sucking her husband’s penis, or that the boy who delights in playing with his feces will have a similar interest in his wife’s anus, but it is probably that there is some sort of parallel operating.
Rather than attempt to generalize upon the underlying reasons for oralism (if we may employ this word to connote a distinct preference for this sort of sex as opposed to a casual interest therein), we might more profitably study the remarks and observations of the Wheelers themselves. During my first interview, from which the material quoted at the beginning of this chapter was taken, Judy Wheeler was not present. Herbert had learned of my research efforts and wrote directly to me, describing his general interests and suggesting an interview. He did not bring Judy with him, explaining that she wanted to wait until he had first assured himself I was a legitimate researcher before meeting with me.
The New Sexual Underground: Crossing the Last Boundaries (John Warren Wells on Sexual Behavior Book 10) Page 10
