Introduction
My name is John Thomas Smith. I was given the nickname Tank in high school. Not
because I had a thing for armored military vehicles but because some said, I was built
like a tank. My build served me well on the football field but it is an unlikely moniker
for someone in my profession. I’m a clinical psychiatrist.
A few months ago, a colleague suggested I write a paper on promiscuity. He knew it
was a subject that I had done some research on and one in which I held more than a casual
interest. I told him I would consider it. The trouble with a scholarly paper is it is easy
to make it so scholarly that even the scholars can’t understand it. I had four and maybe
even five subjects that I was either treating or whom I knew would make excellent
candidates to be interviewed.
There were a couple of approaches to getting the data. I could be sneaky and not
tell the subjects I was actually conducting an interview instead of treating them. Easy
enough to do and they wouldn’t be likely to read my paper, but I favored the straight
forward approach of telling them what I was doing and why.
To attempt to make things as clear as possible in the murky world of the human
psyche let me try to establish what promiscuousness is. This is made even more difficult
because the ‘experts’ can’t seem to agree on the definition. One definite included the
phrase ‘miscellaneous mingling’ another uses the term ‘indiscriminate’.
For our purposes, a promiscuous woman is a woman who engages in casual sex. I’ll
lay aside the legal and religious definitions. One word comes to my mind and it’s been
around since the mid fourteen hundreds and it’s the word I’ll use. Slut is a perfectly
good word to use in this report.
I have always found it strange that a man who engages in casual sex is called a
womanizer while a woman who does the same thing is called a slut. Maybe there should be a
word such as ‘manizer’.
It is not my purpose to define abnormal female sexual behavior. Nor do I intend to
categorize promiscuity as abnormal behavior. To most of us abnormal behavior is simply
something we don’t do or agree to or think anyone else should do. Some things considered
by society as abnormal are also criminal and that’s a line you don’t want to cross, but
with the exception of prostitution I won’t get into it.
In less enlightened times a woman with a high libido was considered a nymphomaniac.
If a woman couldn’t or wouldn’t control her sex drive she was classed as a slut, floozy,
or a whore.
I’ve never thought it was my purpose as a therapist to “cure” someone of a high
libido. I try to help them come to terms with their condition and to accept it. I also try
to get my patients to be extremely careful and to exercise some discrimination in the
choice of their sexual partners.
The libido scale is one of my inventions. It’s a simple concept. The scale is from
one to ten with five being “normal” or average. All of my subjects are in the seven or
higher range.
SHELLY B
My first interview was with Shelly B a twenty-nine year old professional designer.
Shelly readily agreed for me to use her story in my paper. Her story begins…
I think the credit, or perhaps the blame, depending on your point of view, should
go to my Aunt Karen. I don’t mean to imply that she caused me to become promiscuous. Hell,
I did that on my own. She just guided me.
Aunt Karen came to live with us after my mother died. I was about fourteen at the
time and Aunt Karen wasn’t all that much older than me. She didn’t try to be my mother,
just a friend and a confidant. She was there when I wanted to talk and she left me alone
when I wanted to be left alone.
My brother was older than I was and mother’s death didn’t seem to affect him as it
did me. Of course he grieved, but he rallied much quicker than me.
My father mourned, but of course, he had Aunt Karen to comfort him. My brother and
I were not supposed to know that within a month of arriving, Aunt Karen was sleeping in
Dad’s bed. Not just sleeping if you know what I mean.
I was old enough to know that it was good that Dad had someone to turn to, but
young enough to resent it. For a time Aunt Karen and I maintained an uneasy truce, but
after a few months she won me over and we became friends.
Her friendship and especially her council came in handy after I discovered boys. I
mean, of course, I discovered I liked boys. That’s a tough time for a teenager, but
especially a girl.
One day, right out of the blue, I decided I wanted to know more about boys and what
they could do for me. Until then I had been content to just engage in heavy petting and
maybe if I liked him enough, to let him play with my breasts. Suddenly that just wasn’t
enough any longer. I wanted more. I needed more.
Because everyone knows that no one under the age of eighteen ever has sex, we will
have to consider that this occurred just after my eighteenth birthday. You are free to
think anything you like on that subject.
“Karen,” I said to my aunt one day. “I’m going to have sex.”
“Really?” she said stopping what she was doing to give me her undivided attention.
“Have you decided what kind of sex you will have?”
“I didn’t know there was but one kind,” I said.
She proceeded to tell me about lesbian sex, oral sex, anal sex, and of course old
fashion man and woman sex. She also mentioned some of the sex games people played, things
like bondage and spanking. More importantly she explained solo sex.
“Honey, masturbation is good, it’s healthy, and it’s essential,” Karen said. “I’m
not talking about what you have surely already explored. There is more to life than your
finger.” She took me to her bedroom and demonstrated solo sex.
Karen had a vast array of fake penises. Long ones, short ones, fat ones, and
battery powered ones. She had white ones, black ones and a few that were pink. When it
came my turn to try them, I discovered I really liked the vibrating ones.
Aunt Karen cautioned me to not insert any of them too deeply and the next day she
took me to her doctor and her doctor took care of my hymen. It took a couple days for me
to get over that procedure and then I was able to use the dildos like they were intended
to be used. Deep and hard and often.
While I became a huge fan of solo sex, it didn’t satisfy me for long. I still
wanted the boy thing, but there was something else – some kind of dark desire lurking not
very far beneath the surface of my interest. Again, I went to my mentor for guidance.
“Okay, Shelly,” she said. “The thing to keep in mind is don’t devalue your pussy by
giving it away to any old boy that wants it. In fact, they all will want it. Your first
time should be special. It should be a memory-making event. Most eighteen year old boys
don’t know how to screw correctly so it should be with someone who knows what they are
about.” I interrupted her to ask if I should take notes. She laughed. “No, you’ll remember
it, I’m sure. You should take your time and select a man who knows what he’s doing; a man
that will give you wonderful memories, a man who will do what you want, or need, him to
do.”
“Who was your first?” I asked her. “Did you choose someone who knew?”
“I did, because my mother told me what I’m telling you,” she answered. “I carefully
selected a man several years older than I was. I flirted with him enough so that he would
know I was interested. He asked me out and of course, I accepted. It was a magical night,
Shelly. One I shall never forget. He took me out to eat, to a movie and then back to his
apartment where he fucked me for hours.” She saw the shocked expression on my face. “Yes,
Shelly, he fucked me. He not only fucked me, Shelly, he introduced me to adult games that
I had never dreamed of. After we’d fucked for maybe half an hour, he introduced me to some
bedroom bondage. God I was hot from having his dick in me, but when he tied my wrists to
the headboard and then spread my legs wide and tied them to the sides of the bed, I felt
so horny and hot I couldn’t stop myself. That was the first time, and by no means the
last, that I soaked the sheets. I want to make it clear, he fucked me, that night, really
fucked me until both of us were utterly sated and totally exhausted. He did not make love
to me. He tied me up, he even spanked me a bit, and he put his dick in me and we fucked.
Making love is entirely different, but you’ll figure that out in time.”
“I thought it was the same thing,” I murmured. Karen hugged me and laughed.
“Well, it’s not. Both are great and I’d be hard pressed to say which is better. Now
here’s the best bit of information I can give you. You can’t wear it out. It doesn’t make
any difference if it’s fucking or making love, you just cannot wear your pussy out. You
can get it so sore you can’t touch it, but it will be right back to normal in a short
while. Also, if you get spanked, your bottom will do the same. It will glow red with the
heat of the spanking and it will sting and, best of all is I discovered, it will add a
whole new dimension to your arousal. If you pick the right person to spank you, not only
will you enjoy the experience, but your bottom will go back to normal in just a few
hours.”
Aunt Karen, whop was flushed in the face from relating her memories, continued to
explain how differently men and women are. How it takes a man some time to get an erection
and to eject his come again, but a woman can just keep on keeping on. She told me how I
could use my hands and mouth to hurry the process of getting a man hard if hurrying was
necessary.
We spent many interesting hours discussing sex and so I went out armed with this
knowledge in search of my first man. I found him in an unlikely place - the basement at my
high school gymnasium. He was the janitor at school and he was old and he was black as
midnight.
I had gone to the gym basement one afternoon, long after classes were over. I
wasn’t looking for my man at all. I was looking for someone to unclog the shower drain in
the girl’s locker room. Since I was the last one in the shower it fell on me to get
something done about the problem.
I had never been in that part of the gym before. It was not only the basement, but
it was actually a sub-basement. I meandered around for a while looking for Mister Jinks,
the custodian. I found him in his tiny office beating his meat while looking at a
pornographic magazine.
I stood in the doorway watching him stroke his big black dick for several moments
until he noticed me.
“What’ch doin’ down here, girl?’ he demanded casually stuffing his blacksnake back
in his overalls.
“The shower drain is stopped up,” I stammered. By that time, I wasn’t a complete
stranger to a man’s penis. I had given blow-jobs and hand-jobs to my dates on several
occasions, but I had never seen anything like that thing Mister Jinks had. Nothing even
close to the color or the size.
“I’ll fix it,” he said apparently unconcerned that I had caught him jacking-off.
“Be up there in a minute or two.”
I ran back up the stairs to the locker room to finish dressing. The shower would
have to wait. I was finishing up when Mister Jinks came in.
“You girls and your long hair is what keeps getting the drain stopped up,” he
grumbled heading into the shower room. “I’ll have it right in a few minutes and you can
finish takin’ your shower.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that I was finished, but for some reason I didn’t say
anything. After a few minutes, he announced that the water was draining so I could take a
shower.
“Go on ahead, girl,” he said. “Take your clothes off and get in there. I’ll just
wait a while to make sure it drains okay.” I don’t know why something so unreasonable
sounded so reasonable to me, but it did.
Without thinking about what I was doing, I stripped while the old man watched and
went into the shower. He followed me in and leaned against a wall while I got the water
just right. He watched me closely while I lathered myself and washed my body.
“Damn, girl,” he said with a silent whistle. “You got the body of a grown woman.
Nice big titties, too.”
“Thank you, Mister Jinks,” I said, soaping my breasts again for his gaze. “Did you
get all dirty unclogging the drain? Shouldn’t you take a shower?”
He stared at me a moment, grinned, and took his overalls and shirt off. He kicked
his boots off and stood naked to allow me to see him. He had a slight pouch for a stomach,
but he was in good shape otherwise. My eyes went to his big pecker.
“You like what you see, Miss?” he asked me. I nodded because I did like what I saw.
He came over and got under my shower with me. He smelled like pipe tobacco and there was
the slight odor of whiskey.
I came while he soaped my boobs and I came again when he washed my pussy. Then he
soaped all round my ass cheeks, patting them playfully, but not painfully. That feeling of
having my bottom also made me cum, especially as his fingers were edging inside my pussy.
I knew what I wanted from Mister Kinks and I didn’t have to wait long. I really came when
he put that beautiful black dick in me and started fucking me. We were on a bench in the
dressing room when the fucking started. He fucked me good and hard and I remembered what
Aunt Karen had told me of her early experiences.
“Tie me to the bench. Tie my hands up above my head so I’m vulnerable,” I muttered
into his ear as he leaned over me with his cock thrust deep into my sopping wet pussy.
Mister Jinks looked momentarily shell-shocked at my request but he looked around us
and found my stockings. He used them to tie my wrists together and I was only too willing
to have my arms raised over my head so he could tie the free end to the metal rail under
the bench.
Being bound that way with my back on the bench and my legs hanging off either side
made me feel wonderfully submissive. Mister Jinks put his big black snake back inside me
and pounded me until I lost consciousness from the number of orgasms he gave me. When I
came too, he was sitting on another bench, fully dressed and smoking his pipe. He’d untied
my wrists.
“You need another shower, Miss,” he said, and this time you need to wash out your
pussy, but first I think you should be punished for leading me into what could be a whole
heap of trouble and also for clogging up the showers.”
I, if course, realized that relations between staff and pupils were not allowed,
but I was shocked he considered the dangerous liaison had been my fault and the showers
getting clogged up were not my fault. But he had a twinkle in his eye and I had a desire
to feel that big black cock pushing into me again.
“Come on girl, I have work to do. Get over here and over my lap. I’ll teach you to
lead me on and also give you a lesson on not clogging up the showers.” His voice was
amiable and I knew I was not going to be able to wriggle my way out of the situation. So,
I slid off the bench, naked and feeling afraid and took the two strides over to where he
was sitting. Without a word I went over his lap until I could feel his manhood pushing
against my stomach. Without removing the pipe from his mouth, I felt his big, black hand
on my pert, firm buttocks and then he spanked me. At first it just stung my bottom. He
wasn’t messing around as his big black palm smacked hard into my little bottom cheeks time
and again. After about a dozen strokes I was asking him to ease up as it was hurting. By
the time he got to twenty I was crying out loud and my ass felt like it was on fire. But
he just kept on going until he figured my tender bottom couldn’t take any more. By then I
was sore, really sore, but also incredibly hot between my legs again. I could feel that
big black cock pushing hard into my stomach and I knew Mister Jinks was as aroused as I
was.
“Right,” he said, “let that be a lesson to you, young lady. No more hair clogging
and no more seducing the staff, or next time I will have to report it.”
“Yes, sir,” I blubbed between my very genuine sobs.
“You can get showered now,” he added, standing up.
“Yes, sir,” I stuttered. “Before I go to the showers, will you take me from behind.
Your spanking has really heated me up and I need something to take the heat away,” I
sobbed, amazed at what I had just said. From nowhere I was suddenly asking this janitor to
give me his cock from behind.”
“You want me to go up your ass hole? I don’t think that would be wise. I am too big
for that,” said Mister Jinks.
“No, I want you to fuck me from behind, and take the heat out of my pussy you have
just put into it.”
Sure enough I was soon kneeling on the bench with my legs open. Mister Jinks stood
behind me and pumped his black phallus in and out of my pussy until he came again, by
which time I’d had several orgasms.
“Now, you need to get showered, and make sure you wash out your pussy,” he said
breathlessly as he pulled out of my hot, sore pussy.
Of course I had no frame of reference at the time, but I compared that fucking to
others I got even years later. That old man sent me into outer space and brought me back
again. I had over a dozen orgasms in the hour or so we were in the shower room together.
That wasn’t the only time Mister Jinks and I got together. After that day in the
gym I went to his office in the basement several times and finally I went to his
apartment. There he introduced me to proper bondage – ropes, cuffs, ball gags and
blindfolds. On one occasion he completely shaved my pussy and made it tingle with some
special cream he applied to my freshly shaved mons. Then he showed me how he was a master
with the riding crop. I will never forget the exquisite pain of having my pussy lips
cropped by Mister Jinks while the cream he’d applied made me hotter than ever. I think
that day I experienced the most intense orgasms I ever did in my young life.
Aunt Karen had been right about my first time. It should have been memory making
and it was - the first time with Mister Jinks and every time after that time. That took
place nearly ten years ago and I still remember it like it happened yesterday. I’ll tell
you how Mister Jinks got me hooked on group sex next time.
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