ABOVE THE MOON: PART 1 THE EARLY YEARS

By Robert William Hult

Dutch by design from his father, American citizen by way of his mother, Jacob Weiner became a teacher, an undercover agent for Homeland Security,

and a male prostitute. The characters in this book may seem outrageous. Many of the situations may seem extreme, but neither the characters, nor the situations are any more outrageous or extreme

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Mulberry Books
• Release date: Aug 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781952405518

Robert William Hult

Robert William Hult has lived a long life filled with many different kinds of adventures. He has been a scholar, an explorer, a marine animal and bird trainer, an accomplished novelist, a retailer, and a submariner. Many of his exploits are the subjects of his novels. Robert believes not only in faith, but in total preparation, and if not for both, and an intervention here and there, some of his adventures surely would have ended in death. In fact, he has already survived a dozen near death experiences.

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Above the Moon: The Early Years

Copyright © 2020 by Robert William Hult.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher and author, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

This publication contains the opinions and ideas of its author. It is intended to provide helpful and informative material on the subjects addressed in the publication. The author and publisher specifically disclaim all responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, which is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly, of the use and application of any of the contents of this book.

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Foreward

Don’t discount human sexuality; it is the motivation and a driver of a fair amount of behavior, both normal and aberrant.

This is the story of Jacob Weiner—sex teacher, psychologist, federal undercover agent, and male prostitute. It is a study of human sexuality in its many diverse forms. Because of its explicit sexual language and the nature of its content, this story is intended for a mature adult audience.

Much of the body of this work derives from Jacob’s experiences while living in the United States and Canada, and visiting Brazil, China, France, India, and Italy. As such, much of the text is written in first person. Related sexual situations are those told to Jacob by his associates, friends, relatives, and students.

Jacob succeeded academically as well as sexually. He holds a Master’s degree in Psychology. He draws upon what he learned in his psychology courses, which often adds depth and clarity to the way he views life and liberty.

This writing encompasses the time between Jacob’s birth and age twenty-six. He is now highly respected in the many overlapping circles in which he travels. He has become a national, as well as an international phenomenon. He loves to travel and explore new avenues of sexuality. Jacob feels this book was created to be psychologically insightful, as well as to allow readers to penetrate the boundaries between normal and abnormal sexual conduct.

Robert William Hult

Author, 2020

Contents

Foreward

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter One

There are some things that happen to a child at birth that are unexplainable. Such was the case for me. My name is Jacob Weiner. My father was Dutch. Jabob and Weiner are common Dutch names. The last time I checked, there were many Weiners named Jacob. It is an unfortunate name for me because I was born with a birth defect, a mutation that everyone would come to associate with my last name. I was born with a bone in my penis. It is called a bacula bone. It is the kind of thing that naturally occurs for many kinds of male mammals—seals, dolphins, dogs, cats, walruses and so on, but not for a human male. Animal baculas are long, thin, and fragile. If a male animal uses his penis the wrong way, the bone can break and leave the animal incapacitated. Not so my bacula; it was long, round, and strong. It kept growing as I matured.

Male mammals that have a bacula operate their penis like a switchblade knife. The bacula inside their sheath is buried inside their genital vent. When a male seal or dolphin becomes excited by a female of its species in heat, his penis quickly disengages and is ready for use.

A normal human male’s penis operates differently. When a male person is excited, his organ engorges itself with blood from surrounding tissue. It is both a voluntary and involuntary act. A male can somewhat sublimate the process if he feels he needs to. Depending upon its chemistry, a drug can either encourage or discourage coitus. During intercourse, mental or physical stimulation of many kinds help or hinder a male’s process of copulation.

All during my life, I have believed my bacula was God’s little joke. But why on me? As a result, events in my life were very different than those experienced by normally endowed males. I suppose I should start at the beginning so you get a feel for what I was up against. In time, I became a legend, but it sure didn’t start out that way. What I found myself upon was a curious quest of discovery of both animal and human sexuality.

I was born on a wintery November morning around 2 A.M. to a fine looking woman named Maryiln. The doctor who delivered me knew I was different the first time he saw me. There was no question that I was a boy, and a very different kind of boy at that. Normal boys are born with a flexible one-inch long or longer penis. That wasn’t my case. My penis was five-inches-long and harder than if I had taken Viagra. It stuck out perpendicular from my body. The doctor said to my mother that she would need to train the muscles of my penis so it would lay flat against my left leg.

A religious person, the doctor immediately thought I was some sort of genetic throwback from a previous period, or, perhaps something devilish. But rather than tell my mother that I was an extreme case, an odd case to be sure, he didn’t tell her anything or record anything in his medical records. I found out the same thing is true when a human is born with a tail, which is rare genetic throwback to our early primate heritage. The tails are sawed off, but not generally recorded.

When my mother took me to a priest to have me circumsized, the priest saw that my penis was already longer than the width of his large fist. He only shook his head and quietly went about the procedure, offering no advice to my mother. When I was twelve, the same priest saw me again.

My father was a military man, away on what is called a WestPac trip in Asia when I was born. For nearly six months, he didn’t get wind of the situation at home as my mother dealt with my boner. A first-time mother, raised on a farm, pregnant at seventeen, she didn’t know what had happened to me. Was it her fault or my father’s? It had to be someone’s fault, didn’t it?

The first time she unwrapped the blanket around me, my penis sprang out like a toy. As she gave me my first sink bath, she says, it kept getting in the way of the washcloth. Such a sight was almost too much for a woman who hadn’t had sex for months, and yet felt the passionate urges of a very young woman, not even out of her teens.

For nearly everyone, I’ve learned over the years, it is hard to beat biology. As hormones get stronger, they expect certain things to happen. This was particlarly true for my mother. She couldn’t help fondling my penis as she washed me. For years after that, as she trained my penis muscles to lay flat against my left leg, she handled my penis as if it was her personal dildo. As time went on and she had more experience with men, she realized my penis was completely abnormal, although it was pleasurable for her to use.

Of course, I didn’t know or have the capacity to understand molestation. To my young mother, whatever she did to me seemed natural. When I began to pee in her mouth, she soon understood that a child’s penis is for one important thing. The fondling, however, continued, and became more intense over the years. There is pleasure in sex and nerves tingle no matter how old one is. I had no cause for complaint.

When my father came home, he admitted that he’d had Asian affairs, and that he was in love with a Japanese woman. Also, seeing me and knowing I was aberrant, my parents soon divorced. My mother received custody and part of his continued military income as alimony. Incest continued all through my childhood and no doubt changed my life from what it might have been.

As I grew a bit older, my mother and I became closer. I saw her in relation to numerous other women that she befriended. She was more beautiful than most of the others. Shiny, long black hair, a light Scandinavian complexion, thick sensuous lips, full feminine breasts, and a wasp-like waist added to her physicality. All through those times when I was in kindergarten, from all walks of life, men came to visit her. Prior to this time, I just thought these people were being friendly.

I wondered how she kept her body so nicely in trim. She told me that after I was born, she spent a lot of time in L.A. Fitness gyms, exercising and getting rid of what she called her belly fat. After that, intense sexual activity alone, she had said, kept her body, if not her mind, in shape.

For years, I did not know my mother was earning most of our living by servicing both women and men. The small money she got as alimony was insufficient for the lifestyle she most admired and wished to pursue. As I look back on those times, I realize she was so good at fellatio possibly because of all her practice on me. That is probably also why she didn’t need the services of a pimp to keep her supplied with customers.

When other women came over to the house, mother would proudly show me off. For long periods, I would stand totally nude in front of her and a female visitor. At that time, I did not know about bisexuality. In actuality, mother seemed equally at home with the sexual company of both sexes. Looking back as a teenager, I realized that added to our income, and to our freedom to travel. Whenever mother felt she was becoming too entangled in one community, we would leave for another part of the country. All through elementary and junior high school, this played havoc with my schooling.

During most of her early home-away sexual encounters, my mother left me with a babysitter. They were exclusively teenager girls. I soon realized another source of sexual curiousity. Almost to a girl, they would insist on me taking a bath. Then nude, the babysitter would wash me down, repeatedly around my balls and straight-forward-poking penis. Over my elementary school years, some babysitters in some places became regulars. On several occasions, they became bathmates. I saw more and more different kinds of young female bodies. I came to realize that girls were not of the same mold. They came in many different forms, down to the structures of their different breasts and vaginas.

When reading became my obsession, I became acquainted with the Internet. We always had a laptop computer whenever mother and I went. However, she used a little black book to keep her many appointments. She used the computer to keep in contact with customers. When I used the computer, I was completely unsupervised. Parents don’t appreciate how easy it is to find out about any kind of sex, normal or perverted, through Internet research. Through curiousity, I learned about nearly all the different forms of sexuality, animal and human. I didn’t yet know about beastiality.

I didn’t realize until I was in my early teens that mother wanted me to learn all about sex, especially on the Internet where one can view most any kind of sex up close and in living color. She had a reason for it, but for a long time she didn’t tell me what it was. But even then, without her being involved, things were starting to make sense to me. Sexuality was a function, normally of reproduction, but not necessarily so, engaged in on many different levels for different purposes by all kinds of creatures, not just human beings.

As my penis grew longer and thicker, elementary school and junior high school for me became unfortunate affairs. To hide my affliction, I would tape my penis to my left leg. Velcrow became my friend. Because of all the sexuality, my balls became bigger than normal. Women who my mother showed me off to frequently exclaimed, He has such big balls! My mother would nod approvingly. Then they would begin fondling me. It always felt good. I still had no reason to complain.

My most difficult period in lower education was gym class when I had to wear shorts like the other boys. Two things would eventually happen. As my penis abnormally grew, it would sometimes show below my shorts. This raised objections from my gym teachers who complained to the principals of the schools. During periods in the shower, my penis would stick out abnormally. The other boys incessantly teased me. For the first time, I saw that other boys’ organs were not at all like mine.

After such periods, I was excused from all gym classes. Study halls became my saving grace and reading even more important. Studying history and various aspects of science, especially biology, became my hobbies. Because I knew now how human sexuality functioned, I wanted to know about other creatures’ sexuality. I realized that animals with a vagina or a penis are evolutionarily rare. These particular reproductive organs apply mostly to mammals. Other animals have a cloaca, which seemed to be another kind of anus and is attached to the same alimentary system (the digestive tract) as an anus. This is particularly evident in all kinds of birds and insects. Some insects have lock and key sexual organs so they can only breed with the same species. All these facts intrigued me. Later on at a university, these studies were to lead to greater possibilities and even better grades.

And then there was the talk. In schools, boys talked to boys about me; boys talked to their girlfriends about me; girlfriends talked to girlfriends. Before long, a reputation followed me.

During that period of schooling, I learned that girls are just as curious as boys. After school, one girl or another generally sought my company. I became something of a novelty and girls, especially, seem to like a novelty, particularly when it pertained to boys.

Sometimes when her parents were away, I was invited to some girl’s house, and ultimately to her bedroom. Because of all my prior experience with my mother, I was no sexual prude. If a girl wanted to show me her vagina, and she wanted to see my penis, I saw no reason why it shouldn’t happen. Her fondling of my nakedness turned into my fondling of her. I learned about all aspects of cunnilingus. Some young girls found the experience so pleasurable, their desire heightened. After school, we would meet in secret places. My mother was generally engaged with some female or male friend of her own. If I didn’t stay away from home too long, she wasn’t bothered. If I did remain too long somewhere, I would make up the excuse that I had been studying and forgot about the time.

There are some things in life that seem utterly incongruent. My mother, for example, was not only a prostitute, she was very religious. One might think these two things are mutually exclusive, but it’s not necessarily so. Mother would say, God created sex, but he didn’t do it just so we could have kids. The wages of sin can be birth, but if a woman is cautious, she can avoid insemination leading to pregnancy altogether.

I understood the logic behind those kind of statements. Being twelve, I saw no counter argument.

For most people, religion is a social experience about faith and ethics. Not so for me. I studied to become an altar boy in the Roman Catholic church. I grew to love Latin. It made sense to me. The words flowed nicely. One day during the week, the priest who baptised me invited me back to church, I thought to study more of our Latin Bible. I was quicker at learning it than the other boys. None of them were present. He had me slowly undress in front of him. He lifted me up and carried me to the altar where he laid me down. After a little Latin prayer, he placed my stout member in his mouth. His sucking was powerful. Soon I was cumming. It didn’t particularly bother me because my mother pretty much did the same thing with or without her female friends around.

One might think that it is incongruent for a priest to perform fellatio on one of his altar boys. But most people don’t realize that homosexuality is sometimes why a man becomes a priest. It is a safe haven for at least one kind of homosexual. As long as they aren’t molesting children, not many people, including other priests, seem to care. That was my first experience with what my mother called a fag or a queer. When I told her about my experience, she ran right over to the church and slapped the priest across the face. She took me out of the church, away from becoming an altar boy. But I still loved Latin, so I took my Latin Bible with me. The same night, she and a woman friend talked about what had happened to me. They apparently were turned on by the sex act because both of them sucked my dick.

When I was thirteen, I was invited to a girls’ club. I had no idea what that meant. A pretty teenage red-haired girl with dark eyes and an interesting dragonfly tattoo named Karen, about four years older than me said, There’s a party at a place I know. You and I could have a lot of fun there today.

It was the weekend and I knew my mother would be busy. I said, Sure, I’ve got nothing better to do, I’ll go with you."

She paid the fare for the city bus that took us to a place I had never heard of. It was kind of out of the way in a big building that didn’t have any noticeable renters. Since I had never experienced such a place, I wasn’t afraid of it.

We climbed a series of stairs. Karen kocked on the door and gave what I thought was some sort of secret password. I didn’t yet know it, but Karen was part of teenage all-girl city gang. Some members used drugs, some didn’t, but all felt protected from aggressive men where they congregated. I was to learn that the dragonfly tattoo she wore was emblematic of her particular gang.

We entered a large living room with only a few couches in it. Half a dozen girls ranging in age from seventeen to eighteen came out of different rooms. They were the members of what Karen began to call her Pink Club.

After my introduction, seven girls surrounded me. Little by little, a bit rough, they completely undresssed me. My big, straight penis, and the rest of my young naked body, was there for all to see. Their furious fondling of me didn’t bother me. I had experienced rougher from my mother and a few of her female friends.

These girls were out of their doll phase. They were more into something like a boy toy. Together, they knew a lot more about sex than I did. One after another, each girl took off her shirt or sweater; her bra; her skirt, pedal pushers, or trousers; and lastly her panties. My eyes were full of nude teenage girls. Some had more pubic hair than others. Breasts came in all shapes and sizes. Some of the girls’ breasts didn’t quite match each other. Some of their nipples weren’t extended as I had seen them on my mother and her woman friends. A few more girls came in after that. They undressed. Every girl had a dragonfly tattoo somewhere on her body.

I had not yet learned anything about what underage meant. Nor did I yet know what a rape or a reverse gangbang meant. For hours on end, my penis, balls, butt, and pecks became objects of intense scrutiny. Girls bent my body one way and then another. Sometimes I was on my back, sometimes bent forward or backward with my legs splayed out. Sometimes I was on all fours. Every inch of me was explored in detail. A few times, several girls held me upside down with my legs spread apart and bounced me up and down to see what my penis would do. When they laid me flat again, almost every girl put my organ in her mouth. It was as if none of the girls had ever seen or tasted a dick. I wondered if any of them had a brother. Or, were they playing a game with me like follow-the-leader?

One thing led to something else. Before long, not one girl was too bashful to participate in some sort of sex act or sexual position. I didn’t need to do anything. But many of those things, from what I knew, were out of the ordinary. My endurance amazed everyone, including me. During the long ordeal, I barely made a sound, even though after several hours the foreskin of my penis began to hurt. Looking back, I can appreciate how a gangbanged female must feel, how rubbed raw.

For the first time, I saw nude girls masturbating themselves. Apparently, teenage boys were not the only ones to do it.

Looking back, I understand that my mother did do one correct thing for me. She instructed me over and over again how NOT to get a girl pregnant, and how important that was to my future. It was all new to me. She taught me what girls learn—the use of a condom, a diaphragm, an IUD, and the rhythm method of birth control. She showed me her birth control bills. Then swallowed one. She explained what happened to a girl and a woman during her menstrual cycles.

Throughout my elementary and junior high school experiences in many different schools with many different girls, this instruction proved to be completely beneficial. Not once, as my reputation grew, did some girl become an unwed mother. However, as word inevitably got around, someone would complain to someone else, sometimes another principal. This was yet another reason that my mother and I would need to travel to a new location.

The only time I ever brought a teenage girl home, my mother caught us in her bedroom. Then I had my own, but her bed was bigger and more comfortable. She did something that must have frightened Tania, a cute little brunette. Mother undressed in front of both of us and came into the bed. She spread the girl’s legs wide and held them that way with her hands. Then she performed a slow, deliberate cunnilingus right underneath the girl’s furry brown beaver. Tania came to a most impressive trembling climax. A little while later, mother forcefully turned the girl over and pulled her butt high into the air.

Keep your head down, my mother said to Tania. Now you do it, my mother said to me. I saw no reason not to while my mother turned belly up, put a pillow beneath her head, and positioned herself under my penis to perform a slow fellatio. I could feel her deep sucking motions as she pulled and pushed on my waist with her hands while I moved my tongue repeatedly over and around the Tania’s anus and vagina. Her dense brown bush ticked my nose. It was the first time mother and me performed the same act, but in different positions and in different ways. Tania came again, more violently. My mother swallowed my present. Your cum is getting thicker and more interesting, she said. I wondered what the girl thought about that.

Tania never spoke to me again. I think my mother must have shocked the hell out of her. After the episode of discovery by my mother, I made it a practice not to bring home junior high school female friends. I never did have any male friends, so that wasn’t a problem for me or for them. But who knows what might have happened if I was bisexual like my mother.

I know now that most people would call my mother, Degenerate! But she did teach me a lot I wouldn’t have learned on my own. Some of what she taught, a person can’t learn except from reading dirty books,which I didn’t do. Or from life experience with someone else who isn’t so cautious. I know she was cautious with men because she said she would always place a condom in her mouth when she was performing fallatio. She wouldn’t swallow any man’s cum but mine. She said I was so young, mine was pure. In later years, her reasoning fell short.

High school was an even more severe developmental period for me. I learned to satisfy my own poweful urges through various techniques of masturbation. Sometimes I would watch my mother, nude, play with herself. She still had a superbly beautiful body. Sometimes she would entice me into her bed to perform cunnilingus on her. I would use my tongue to excite her clitoris and vagina. Her vulva would open up, sometimes in anticipation. Sometimes she would be so excited she would not let my head leave until she came to a climax.

The high school I attended offered a Latin class. I was thrilled. On the first day, the teacher, a lovely brunette with a shapely body, explained why Latin had been and continued to be an important language.

"In the empires of the Romans and Greeks, Latin was a living language. Over decades, it developed its complexity. These days, it has survived mainly because Latin words are the basis of other words that are deeply engrained in medicine, science, and law. Modus operandi—someone’s working habits—is a law fundamental. E pluribus unum—one from many—is on our money. Homo is the Latin word for man as in Homo erectus, Homo sapiens, and so on. So you see, even today, Latin has practicality. Until the 1960s, the Catholic Church still used Latin in its masses."

Mother had once told me that homo in her world was short for homosexuality and a homo was just a man having sex with another man. Since I had already had such an experience, what the teacher said in front of the class rang true in my ears. I must have been a living example of Homo erectus.

I had heard that certain things were about to change. The Catholic Church would soon be delivering masses in English, as other religions did. What I didn’t know was high schools everywhere would soon no longer be offering Latin courses. I’m glad I didn’t know that in high school. All year, I enjoyed both the teacher and the course. At times, I wondered what it would be like in bed with her.

Several times during that year, mother brought home another woman and they had different kinds of sex. She wanted me to watch, to enjoy the experience of being sensual. Sometimes things got so involved, I masturbated in front of them. And then she brought home my Latin teacher. I got to experience what it was like to be in bed with her. She made my heart sing. I got an A in her course.

Some of mother’s admonitions almost scared me to death. During one’s life, a person might have had an experience with some venereal disease, what she called an STD. Syphilis, gonorrhea, and chlamydia are all spread through sexual encounters, although men having sex with men generally aspired to higher rates of STDs. I can state unequivocally that my mother never did have a sexually transmitted disease. She was a professional, always guarding against them. Even if she thought she had acquired one, she sought out a specialized doctor.

On another occasion, she warned me about Hepatitis B, a virus that might be found in vaginal secretions, saliva, or semen. Engaging in either oral or anal sex could also transmit the virus. Another virus, Hepatitis C, could only be transmitted blood-to-blood. That usually only happened while what mother called a sex-crazed female was having intercourse during her menstruation.

Crabs (a common name for minute lice that look a little bit like crabs) that can infect one’s pubic hair were another STD that mother warned me about. Caution about every one of these sexual diseases was her watchword.

Although she told me that she was well paid for her services, she would occasionally do it for free with someone she liked especially well. She brought home a guitarist one night. They spent the evening fucking so loudly in the room next to mine that I was having a hard time getting to sleep. I went into the bathroom and showered while masturbating with the handle of a bath brush up my ass. I had witnessed my mother doing something similar with an oddly shaped dildo. On another occasion, it had been with a long, dark green English cucumber. Over the years, I had also seen her use a banana, a yellow squash, a zucchini, a peeled turnip, a carrot, an apple, an eggplant, and even an orange. I learned that vegetables and fruits weren’t just to eat, they actually had sexual uses.

One of my female high school dates had been particularly attracted to mother. In front of her, I called the girl Virginia because I was studying the Civil War and Dorothy said she was a virgin. Virginia... virgin. The names had six letters in common. Also, I had heard the slogan, Virginia is for lovers. Who knows what might happen with a name like Virginia. I hid her real name, which was Dorothy, not so poetic. It didn’t roll off the tongue like Virginia. The girl told me she was curious about what a woman’s tongue would feel like on her vagina. I wondered if she was thinking about becoming a lesbian. Dorothy, a teenage blonde, had a wonderfully sweet personality that had attracted me.

I didn’t personally know a lesbian yet. But I figured that if a female was a bisexual like mother, she was maybe also a lesbian. I told mother about Virginia and Marilyn told me to bring her over after school. She would educate Virginia for me so we would have a better relationship. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Even if I couldn’t participate, I made it a condition that I could watch. That was fine, as it always had been with my mother, and it seemed to turn Dorothy on. She wanted to meet my mother as soon as possible. I would like to have known what Dorothy was thinking all day long during high school classes. I’m sure it wasn’t about me.

Dorothy walked hand-in-hand with me to mother’s apartment. The girl was wearing a furry white sweater and a red and orange plaid dress that extended nearly to her knees. Her orange socks rose all the way up to her knees. Her black shoes were a bit scuffed from playing outdoors.

At the time, we lived on the second story of an apartment complex. It had front stairs and back stairs. We went up the back ones. With my key, I opened the door. Mother was sitting on the couch watching a soap opera. When she saw me and Dorothy come in, she greeted us. She turned off the TV.

Hello, Virginia, Jacob has been telling me a few things about you. You’re a pianist. I’m impressed. I know that takes a lot of practice to be good, more practice to be great. Is that what you want to be your occupation?

Mother really knew how to break the ice. She and Virginia hit it off right away.

What I’d like to do is be part of a symphony orchestra.

Someone I know is a conductor, Marilyn said. Maybe there’s some way I can hook you up. She took it back. I mean, introduce you to.

I’m ready for that. I really do think I’m good enough to audition.

Confidence. Good. I like that in a woman. How old are you today?

About seventeen and a half, Virginia said. You’re a bit underage, young lady. Are you sure you want me to fool around with you?

I want to know what it’s supposed to feel like being a woman. And I don’t want to get pregnant yet. That’s one reason why I like Jacob. He’ll let me play with him. But he won’t let me sit on him.

I see, said Marilyn. And you think working out with a lesbian will make you cum like a woman?

If I can’t have a man yet... yes, that’s what I think.

I wish I’d thought that way when I was your age. I wouldn’t have gotten into so much trouble. All right. Come into my bedroom. We’ll see what we can do together. You’ll need to let me know when to stop. I’m here to educate you, not to rape you or cause you pain. You need to see it that way.

Dorothy followed Marilyn into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and talked more with mother.

I really want to know what sex is all about. I read, the teenager said. I hear things from the older girls at school. They talk about Jacob in wild ways. I can’t wait until I’m eighteen. It’s months away.

I can tell you have a strong libido, Virginia. Mother motioned me to sit in her dressing chair by the full length oval mirror. It was surrounded by with an oak frame, part of which swiveled so you could angle the mirror any way you wanted.

Is Jacob still allowed to watch? It’s your choice.

Dorothy looked straight at me and smiled. Then she nodded several times.

We’ll start.

The edge of the bed Dorothy next sat on looked straight at the mirror. She was looking a bit oblique at me. Mother came over and stood Dorothy a few feet away from the mirror and the bed and got in back of the girl. Marilyn started by raising her student’s long brown hair away from her neck. Mother began kissing her lightly. She worked her hands down Dorothy’s sweater and lifted it up. She unfastened the girl’s bra and tossed it to me.

Hold this, Jacob. Keep it clean.

I nodded.

From beneath the sweater, Marilyn massaged Dorothy’s breasts. They had been easily seen beneath the sweater, but now, without the bra on, both of them stuck out straight like my dick was trying to do. Mother watched me watching. Dorothy had her eyes wide open, looking at what was happening in the mirror. When mother unfastened her skirt, it fell to the floor. The girl’s eyes got bigger as she watched mother’s right hand travel inside the pink panties to her crotch.

Jacob, she doesn’t have much pubic hair. It’s so fine, it feels like fur. Would you like to see it?

I’ve seen and felt it. But I’d love to see and feel it again.

What do you say, Virginia?

Virginia gulped as mother’s right hand explored what I knew was a small pussy. She had a crack line for an entrance but fully rounded vulva. She kept massaging the girl’s left breast with her left hand.

In a small voice, Dorothy said, O...kay.

Mother dropped the girl’s drawers around her ankles. Mother looked into the mirror over the girl’s shoulder. You have fine equipment, darling. Firm, straight boobs and a delightfully pretty pussy. You are going to make some man a wonderful wife. Mother continued massaging. She motioned her head for me to come out of the chair and stroke the girl.

The sweater was still on so I couldn’t see the mentee’s boobs, but I had already played with them. I knew how they felt. They were soft and pliable, and they had a great matched look. There was a panty line around her hips. I could tell she wore a bikini when she went to the nearby beach.

I could barely control my hard on, which was so intense it was trying to release itself from the velcrow strap. I sat down on the floor and watched the massage. When mother took her fingers out of the girl’s pussy, she put them first in her mouth. She put her fingers back in the pussy, rolled them around, and then put the jellied fingers in the girl’s mouth. She ran them softly back and forth like they were a dick.

You also have a very fine taste. Has Jacob tasted you yet?

Um. I don’t know.

Let’s see what he thinks about you. He has the best tongue.

She walked the girl backward by her waist. Dorothy stepped out of her panties. When mother fell backward onto the bed, the girl did, too, in front of her. Marilyn wound both of her legs around the teenager’s and spread her out so all her pussy showed. Now she was a bit higher off the floor. Mother raised the girl’s groin a little higher so her feet were even further off the floor.

I came over and started a gentle massage with my tongue into her slit. She squirmed a bit at first but then mellowed into it. I opened her vulva with my fingers and exposed her clit. Then I began tonguing her like a mad thing. She started moaning.

Tell him to stop whenever you want him to, Virginia. Marilyn held the girl by her thin waist with one hand, was licking her neck, and massaging one or the other breast with her other hand.

When I looked up I could see mother’s way bigger pussy on the bottom, Dorothy’s small pussy on top. They were quite a contrast.

Dorothy’s boobs were sticking straight up and a little sidewise. Mother’s were being crushed, but she didn’t seem to care.

Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Dorothy shouted.

But I did stop.

Why did you stop? asked the red-faced girl lifting her head as high as possible, looking back down toward me.

Mother explained, He didn’t want you to climax yet. You said you wanted a lesbian experience. Jacob has watched me with some of my lesbian friends, haven’t you, Jacob?

I nodded and added, A great lesbian doesn’t want to come right away. She loves the play, she wants it to last as long as possible. She wants her orgasm to last as long as possible. That means a lot of foreplay. Turn her prostrate, mother.

A woman’s vulva is often more than twice as large from the rear as from the front. Dorothy’s was bigger than that. Spread her again, mother.

Mother took the girl’s hands in her own and clasped their fingers together, started kissing her in the mouth, and wrapped her legs around the inside of the girl’s thighs. Out went Dorothy’s legs. Her bisquit got even more pronounced. She stopped kissing.

He’s not going to enter you, dear, just tongue you a little harder. Is that okay.

Dorothy said, Okay, with more gusto, like she really meant it.

The breasts of both females were squishing together. I wondered if it hurt, but I was too busy to ask. I was thinking of my next moves. I spread Dorothy’s cheeks even wider and began furiously reaching every possible crevice with my long tongue.

In a few minutes I heard, Now that you’re deeper, what does she taste like, Jacob?

I stopped deep licking. Sugar. I’d never tasted a girl like sugar, but that’s what she tasted like.

Sugar? She shouldn’t taste like sugar. Her moo moo should be alkaline, Marilyn said.

Dorothy lifted her head. Um... when I was talking to another girl, she said I should put sugar inside me. It was supposed to make me come better.

That’s an old wives tale, honey. No, keep away from the sugar. It will eventually hurt the lining of your uterus. You could get a pussy ulcer in your lady garden. That would be terrible. Technique is what counts to have a good orgasm. Jacob does it better than most of the women I run with.

Do you want to continue, SUGAR? I said.

Mother laughed.

Don’t stop, Jacob. I’m loving what you’re doing. My pussy is so wet. If you stop now, I’ll never forgive you.

I went back to deep tongue fucking Dorothy. When she looked like she was cooling down for some reason, I put the index finger of my left hand in her pussy. I put two fingers in my mother’s cunt. I drove those fingers like pistons until both females climaxed together. Drops of perspiration lined Dorothy’s forehead and red cheeks when she rolled off my mother. It had been a great late afternoon.

One of the reasons I like Latin is because of the way certain words roll off the tongue. Lots of words end in an i, an a, um, or us. Veni. Vidi. Vici. (I came. I saw. I conquered.) But then I love English for the same reason and words end differently. Virgin. Vagina. Pussy. Those words are soft-skinned like the girls and women they represent. I’ve never liked the word twat as a synoymn for vagina. Twat sounds like something one would defecate. To me, cunt is fine and I use it with affection. It’s an acceptable synonym for pussy, although cunt isn’t a pretty word and some people use it in anger.

I once caught Joe, my only male best friend, loudly saying to a date, YOU CUNT! Later on he said, This is over. You’re a cunt! We never discussed what that was all about but it didn’t sound good. And I never again saw Joe with that particular girl.

In later years, I heard men divorcing their wives say, She was a cunt. That’s all. Phrases like that have never impressed me. You never know what was the original problem causing the separation. Was it sex or something else so deeply disturbing that it was impossible for the couple to reconcile?

As I say, when I say or write cunt, I use it simply as a synonym. I envision fatty tissue, soft and moist, willing and able to accommodate to my best efforts.

Men have soft words and harsh words for their organ as well. Penis... nice and soft. Dick, rod, and cock... hard. Women prefer a hard dick over a soft penis, probably because the first works better than the second. Women sometimes say in anger, You dickhead! To me, that’s actually funny. It has a mouth. Put eyes on it and it’s a classic puppet. Again... funny. A woman in anger might also say, You Fucker! Well, that’s exactly what is man is trying to do... fuck her.

Schlong, that’s another funny word. Females must envison a long dick when they say that. I don’t really like people’s names that some persons apply to penis, although I occasionally use them. They become too specific—Old Johnson, Billy, Willie, Charlie... I know guys with those actual names and their dicks aren’t necessarily something to be proud of. Snake. That’s a wild word for a dick. Mine and nobody else I know has a dick that operates like a snake. To me, a snake is a plunger you use in a toilet to break up shit. And besides that, females are afraid of snakes. I’ve never wanted a woman to be afraid of my organ, although because it is abnormal, some females have been. Most, women, however, have been accepting of its dimensions.

Now, You bastard! That doesn’t seem to have much to do with the penis, but rather with reproduction in general. But it still doesn’t sound as harsh as, You cunt!

I like the words affair, tris, one night stand... They feel as soft as their purpose. Prostitution has a strange ring to it. And so many syllables. It’s a word as complicated as the profession. In Eurasia, a person who works in prostitution is simply referred to as a sex worker and there are hundreds of millions of us.

Lust, like love, is a four letter word. I don’t think that’s an accident. Most marriages fall apart when love (insert lust instead of love) no longer carries its weight. Why would prostitution exist otherwise? When a man sees a women he is attracted to for the first time, it isn’t love, it’s lust. A man wants to screw that woman so much he would do anything, including marrying her. I’m pretty sure that goes for a woman seeking another woman or a man seeking another man, instead of his wife. If the wife won’t suck his dick and she has a hard time with deep penetration, too, she’s in for trouble. She’s got to be able to do one or the other. And that goes for a man, also. Suck, fuck, or its over.

I once heard a grandmother blatantly tell her teenage grandaughter, Keep his belly full and his bag empty and you’ll keep him for life. Good advice? From a man’s point of view, perhaps the best advice. The two most important things to a man are sex and food. Mostly in that order. At least, that’s my opinion. "When people are sexed-up, they are generally uninterested in food, unless its a special occasion where food is likely to be involved. We’ll get to that later.

I once heard a grandfather say to his grandson, Keep her barefoot and pregnant. She’ll remain with you forever. That might have worked some time ago although I’m not so sure now with all the great opportunities women have that they didn’t have previously.

Another word I especially like is libido. Doesn’t it have a nice ring to it? Lib-e-do... It defines the instinctual biological urge for sexual pleasure, self-gratification, and self-preservation. I have always had a healthy, and I might even say, a super libido. I’m sure it’s because of my huge dick. The hormones that control it must be disproportionally attentuated to feed it. Therefore, as my underlying biology is complex, so is my libido. Some of the women I’ve met must have also had a big libido, but perhaps for completely different reasons. I’m still learning about that. It might be a lifelong study.

I once heard one of my mother’s prostitute friends named Charisse say about me, Why ... he’s a walking dildo. At that moment, I knew I had to show somebody besides my mother that I had brains, too. Dildo. It’s peculiar word really for an object that a woman will stick into her mouth, her pussy, or her ass. Men use them, too, but only in their mouth or their butt. Dildos come in an astonishing array of designs, colors, and sizes. Some even glow in the dark so you can easily find them if one happens to suddenly pop out of somewhere at night.

What about beaver? Where did that come from? Her beaver is softer than silk. Of course, it’s a euphemism for a woman’s pubic hair. Some woman don’t have any, some have so little it’s barely mentionable, and some women have so much of it, it could be woven into a rug. The same goes for a man. In lesbian circles, pubic hair is mostly shaved clean so that it doesn’t tickle one’s nose during cunnilingus. It usually bothers me, too. I shave most of mine off occasionally for the same reason. I’ve had women say it tickles their nose when they come all the way down on me.

Now a beaver is a furry animal about the size of a medium-size dog. Dense fur covers its torso and it has a flat, scaly tail three-quarters the size of the rest of its body. But the fur of a beaver can be extremely senuous, just like the beaver of a woman. The beaver of a woman evolved so it can hold the smells of estrous, which in other mammals simply rest on the surface of the vagina. The pubic hair of a man does pretty much the same thing. It captures the musk smell men emit.

Normally, real beaver fur is thick and prickly, but put it in water and that pricklyness turns into softness so fine that if you use the fur as a bathmat, it will become a completely senuous experience. I know that because I bought a tanned beaver skin from an old trapper and used it as a bathmat for years. Each time I stepped into the shower on it, I thought it would deliver my feet to heaven. That’s how sensitive are the nerves in one’s feet. That’s also why rubbing your feet slowly on a woman’s beaver can be so highly erotic. So, I guess the term beaver does have some significance to love making.

There are English words, also, that are the natural functions of men and women that some people consider vulgar. Consider for instance, motherfucker and cocksucker. Both are common activities of adults and precocious teenagers. A father naturally progresses from a fucker to a motherfucker. A woman who desires to get her husband or significant other sexually aroused is a cocksucker. Of course, certain homosexual and transgender men do it, also.

And then there is the word cockhold whose current definition refers to a relationship where one of the partners doesn’t mind sharing that partner with someone outside the partnership. A married man, for instance, might share his wife with a complete stranger, male or female. The married man himself, might get self-gratification by simply watching or by filming the event. Another definition of cockhold is when a wife humiliates her husband under her control, usually making the husband wear a chastity belt while she has sex with another man. Or: one partner of a lesbian couple, for the sheer novelty of it, might share herself with a man to the chagrin of the other partner. During my life, I admit that I’ve participated in all these situations for one good reason or another.

Chapter Two

Prior to my first day of college, I entered my dorm. It was one of two co-ed dorms on campus. My room was on the top floor. It was a small room, not over twenty feet long by fifteen feet or so wide. It had a high ceiling. A floor-to-ceiling clothes closet was near the only door and a long desk was on its west side where I parked my lap-top. A large window overlooking a grassy part of the campus was on the south side of the room; it had a nice view of the campus. A twin-size bed was built into the east side of the room.

As I was unpacking