The Past Is Prologue Ch. 02
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Ginny’s still dealing with hang-ups about her incestuous teenage deflowering…through hypnotic therapy. Strangely, she’s making a porno film about it. Read “Ginny’s Witnesses, Chs. 4-6,” for background, and please cast your votes!
“Is that beautiful young Asian girl your daughter’s nanny?” Dr. Erica asked, after her first cup of coffee late Saturday morning. She did not look like my sex therapist, casually dressed as she was in a light green culotte skirt and pale green sleeveless top that strained at its seams to contain her full, 36-C breasts. Her long, thick, black hair was clipped at one side of her graceful neck, and her buttery, tan, East Indian skin looked radiant in the brightly colored outfit.
“Oh! Luala?” I responded, wrestling in my mind for a way to tell her. “She’s…uhh…yeah. As I told you, we brought her back from our vacation on Pohnpei. She’s in the Architecture Program at the university.” I excused myself to go to the kitchen to grind more coffee beans. As the grinder did its thing, I didn’t notice that she’d walked into the kitchen behind me.
“Is there something I should know about Luala?” she asked. Gawd, she was perceptive!
After a day of strenuous fucking on the set of a porno movie we were making, I’d just spent an exhaustive night with my father-in-law, JJ, and Luala, who was a gorgeous, 18-year-old bisexual girl. The recreational sex we’d practiced during our vacation on Pohnpei had evolved into a full-blown threesome relationship now that we were home, with JJ wanting me to be the more dominant of we two females while he encouraged our lesbian activities. Though I still received some of his sexual attention, it was becoming clear that he was smitten by the island girl of Japanese and Pohnpeian descent, rutting openly with her while I watched. In my eyes, his actions since we’d been home threatened me, and I felt as if I were being treated like an old shoe.
I leaned back against the kitchen counter, my fingers gripping its edge, and Erica’s eyes bore into me, waiting for an answer. For a few moments I was silent. Then I just started weeping – something I never do – with huge, crocodile tears running down my cheeks. “Ooohhh…Gawd, Erica…I’m so unhappy!” I blubbered, as she stepped toward me and we hugged. It was a friendly, comfortable hug, and because she’s four inches taller, with large breasts, she made me feel a bit like a child being reassured by an elder sister. I melted into her arms, sobbing into her shoulder, “I’m so afraid he’ll leave me for her…or somebody else really young!”
“Shhh, little darling. Shhh,” she cooed, stroking the back of my head. “I will do everything I can to prevent that from happening,” she said in her stilted English, comforting me in her professional psychiatrist’s way. Then she squeezed me and pulled back to look into my eyes. “Do you understand?”
“Oh, yesss,” I exhaled, letting the tension roll from me into her comforting body. “Thank you,” I mumbled, looking into her eyes, at which I felt her gradually stiffen in my arms. She then pulled away and turned her back to me, bringing her hands to her face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, touching her velvety shoulder.
“I cannot lose my objectivity,” she murmured, then turned to face me.
“Why? We’re friends…buddies almost, what with all that’s happening, and…”.
“I’m feeling closer to you than I should,” she interrupted. “When you touch or embrace me, something in me recoils. It seems so unnatural. At the same time it’s…it’s…exciting,” she whispered.
“I know what you’re saying, kind of,” I said, gripping her upper arms. Then I just poured everything out to her. “For the longest time I was afraid of getting close to women. My Mom had a lesbian relationship after Daddy died and I was so ashamed of her. Then I had a one-night stand when I was skating on tour, which made me feel terribly guilty. After that I had an ongoing fling – with JJ and my old friend, Carol, who was pregnant – which was kind of okay since I knew she needed a man ‘cuz her husband was neglecting her. I was still reluctant and felt ashamed, but I did it mainly to keep JJ interested.”
She nodded her head and said, “And that’s how you justified your becoming bisexual…in your mind,” she said, “…because you assumed it would excite Jay and he would love you more.”
“You seem to really understand,” I said.
“Oh, I understand. Regardless of that, when you and I become physically close…as we are now…I feel something that I cannot explain, rationally.” She looked down at me, her black eyes pools of repressed knowledge that I felt she was afraid to impart.
I’d seen that look on other women. I also detected a single nervous tick in her full upper lip, betraying substantial tension. My grip on her arms relaxed a bit and it only required one step to pull her to me and hug her again. I nuzzled my face into the side of her soft neck and she smelled a little like jasmine. I opened my lips and licked her slightly, causing her to moan and shiver. Encouraged, ataşehir escort I tilted up my head and kissed her fully on the mouth. Her lips were stiff at first, reluctant to loosen, yet, in a moment she’d parted them and allowed me to lick between them, sweet with their orange gloss. I started to shift my position for a deeper kiss, and she suddenly froze, whirling away from me with her breasts heaving as she gasped excitedly for air.
“No…a thousand apologies. It is all my fault,” she said, palming her chest with one hand, then cupping her breasts upward from their sides. I knew that I’d turned her on, and that she truly wanted to stroke her nipples which – even through her bra and top – poked petulantly out at me. “I am a professional. We must discuss this at length…apart from Jay.”
Since JJ was gone for the day – making up for lost time in the office – and my daughter, Andi, and Luala had just left for the nearby park to play, I wanted to talk about it now! I realized that there was more than merely my life to deal with here, but she was my therapist! Correction! Erica preferred good friend. Nevertheless, she was becoming part of the whole, screwed-up soap opera.
“Okay,” I said, “…what do you suggest?” emptying the ground coffee into the maker.
“Uhh, Ginny,” Erica said, haltingly, “I can arrange my appointment schedule…to be on the movie set…if you like.” Erica had become very interested in the porno movie that my father-in-law and I were making about my sexual past.
“Would you?” I asked. “In the meantime, show me how I can hang onto JJ without becoming a raging lesbian. Luala’s architectural degree’s gonna take five years. That’s a long time to have a hot bisexual woman under my roof!”
“I suggest we start with hypnosis…to help free you from your fears of losing Jay if you don’t comply with his sexual directives,” she said. “You will make better decisions if we can keep you from being manic about that. Perhaps we could start with memories of your father…how he treated you as a teen…and how you’ve linked those early experiences with receiving love and attention from men.”
“You mean, tell you about how Daddy took my virginity?” I asked.
“Yes. Have you ever been hypnotized before?” she asked.
“No, but – Gawd knows – I’m very susceptible to the powers of suggestion, and I’m told that half the battle is wanting to be hypnotized…by a person one trusts.”
“That does make it easier,” she admitted. “Is there a place we can go right now and not be interrupted?”
“Yeah, c’mon down to the TV room. There’s a chaise down there I can relax on and you can walk me through it.”
When we were settled, Erica took a tape recorder from her bag and asked, “Do you mind?”
“It’s okay by me,” I mumbled. At her request, I’d already begun a deep breathing exercise to relax and clear my mind.
“Please close your eyes and think of nothing, except perhaps your favorite color, maybe mixing it with fog or smoke…nothing sharp or distinguishable. Clench your fist and place it on your stomach. I will continue to speak with you in a soft voice. When my voice lulls you into a state of complete relaxation your fist should relax and open. At that point you can open your mind and tell me about your memories. Trust me…trust me…trust me…trust me,” she intoned, then lapsed into soft Hindi chants – for minutes it seemed – until my body felt light, airy and in complete repose.
“Are you trusting me, Ginny?” I heard in my reverie.
“Ohh…yesss,” I said to Erica’s voice.
“Gooood. Nowww…tell me about your father on that pivotal daayyyy…”.
The memories were crystal clear, as I began to recount my story to Erica. I felt as if I were a teenage skating geek again, full of naïve assumptions about life. I’d been purposely sheltered by my “old country” father – had been forbidden to date boys – and was shy and embarrassed at having to wear my hair in braids, while my few girlfriends all looked like stylish teenage hotties. The only thing that saved me – since my breasts were still small – were my athletic hips and legs.
“I…I walked in the house…burst in the front door after skating practice in my parochial school uniform…you know…the typical plaid skirt and white blouse, loaded down with books, which I dumped on the couch.”
“‘Mom!’ I called, ‘You still here?’ Mom – looking ten years older than her age of 35 – was applying makeup to camouflage her swollen eyes as she prepared for a shift at the hospital where she worked. I remember her light green scrub uniform made her already pasty complexion look even more sallow.”
“‘I’m here!’ she called. I ran in, tried to hug her, and she grumbled, ‘Don’t, Ginny! You’ll smear my makeup!'”
Erica’s voice said, “Was your mother always so cold?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I answered. “But Daddy probably made her grumpy. Aside from his real estate deals, all he did was drink and take drugs.”
“And that’s what killed kadıköy escort bayan him?” asked the voice.
“Yeah. That and his bad heart.”
“Go on,” urged Erica’s soft voice.
“Okay. Then I said, ‘I met the cutest guy from St. Boniface’s today, Mom…at the snack bar. He asked me out to a movie!’ I recall flopping onto the unmade bed…Mom and Daddy’s bed…and plucking absently at some curly, black hairs on the sheets.”
“‘Ginny!’ said Mom. ‘I can’t talk right now. I’ll get docked if I’m late one more time!'”
“‘Well, why didn’t you get up a little earlier?’ I asked.”
“‘Cuz I drank too much wine last night,’ she said.”
“Then I remember my Daddy, who’d poured himself a big glass of Ouzo, the strong Greek drink, sticking his head in the door. Daddy always started drinking just before Mom went to work. The TV was blaring out in the living room.”
“‘Oh…sorry,’ I said to Mom. ‘Well…guess I’ll see you…tomorrow. Bye.’ Then I got up and went to my room, feeling deflated and rejected.”
“It sounds as if your mother might have been highly stressed,” said Erica’s voice, very quietly.
“In my room I laid on my bed, idly petting my giant teddy bear, Buddy, while I heard Mom say goodbye to Daddy before she slammed the front door. I hugged Buddy to my little breasts and kissed him, rolling around on my bed as if we were two lovers.”
“Were you?” Erica’s voice asked.
“Ohh…I held him between my legs at night and masturbated against him until I felt hot all over, but it was nothing serious. You know what teens are like. I’d started getting my period a couple of years before, and on that day I had those crazy, breathless feelings I always got just before it started each month.”
“It felt good, then,” her voice concluded.
“‘Vat are you doingk’, leetle Ginny?’ I heard Daddy speak from the doorway. He had a thick Greek accent.”
“‘Oh, just messin’ around with Buddy,’ I said. I looked up at Daddy, carrying his tall glass of booze, and his watery eyes were fixed on me.”
“‘You should not hug animals like zat, babee. Ees not natural,’ he said, taking a long slug. ‘You vant to hug someseeng, hug your Daddy,’ he said.”
“‘Oh…Daddy, I don’t wanna snuggle now,’ I said, pleadingly. As I’d grown up, my father and I had hugged a lot. And at this point in my life I’d gotten excited several times before when he’d caressed me through my clothes while we watched TV. He’d always stopped just short of touching my private parts, though, which usually caused me to go to my bedroom and roll around with Buddy.”
“‘Your Daddy could use zome of Ginny’s zugar,’ he said, meaning sugar, as he scratched the hair on one forearm and moved closer to my bed. ‘You vill gib me a leetle zugar?'”
“‘Oohhnngh, Daddy, I just wanna stay in my room. I’ll watch TV with you later,’ I said, trying to put him off.”
“‘Ginny! For ze last time, I need some hugs…some zugar. Come here!’ he ordered in a drunken voice. He’d apparently started drinking earlier than usual on that day. ‘On your knees and gib me your hand,’ he growled, as I got off the bed. Since I’d been a little girl, he’d always made me kneel before him when I was being disciplined. He took my hand and placed it on his pants, on his upper thigh.”
“That scared me a little so I said, ‘I’ll be good, Daddy. I’ll hug you…if you want.’ I remember wishing he hadn’t been drunk. He was always bossy and mean when he drank. I might’ve wanted to snuggle with him if only he hadn’t been tipsy. At the same time, I did always feel better after we hugged a little on days like this, just before my period. It made me relax inside ‘n’ stuff.”
“A natural physical reaction in many teen girls,” observed Erica’s voice.
“‘Ohhh…you vill hug me, alright’, he chuckled. ‘I heard you tell your muzzer a boy asked you out on a date.’ He always called my Mom ‘muzzer’.”
“‘Not really a date,’ I said. ‘Just to go to a movie with a buncha other kids.'”
“He raised his hand to stop me and said, ‘My leetle girl ees getting all grown up. Boys vant to go out wiz her. Touch her all over. Remember, all zey vant ees one sing, Ginny!'”
“‘Oh, Daddy!’ I whined, looking pleadingly up at him, hoping he wouldn’t lecture me like he always did about boys. After all, I was in high school! Then my eyes dropped to the front of his pants. There was a huge bulge right at his crotch, a large swelling that I’d always seen before when we’d touched one another on the living room couch.”
“I knew what it was and, though I was curious, I was apprehensive. My girl friends and I talked about men’s things all the time – yet I’d never seen one – but we’d always described ’em as snakes. I wanted to see one and everything, just to satisfy my curiosity and all, but I was still alarmed, since Daddy was half drunk and I didn’t know how big and mean his snake might be.”
“Frightening for an impressionable young girl,” said Erica’s soothing voice.
“Really! Then he saw me stare at the bulge. ‘Go escort maltepe ahead, Ginny. Touch eet! You nefer have and I gif you my permission. Eet ees time you deed! You knowww you vaaant tooo,’ he muttered, sounding awfully dirty.”
“‘I’m really scared, Daddy,’ I whimpered.”
“‘Jus’ move your hand over an’ touch eet!’ he growled.”
“I closed my eyes and started to weep, shaking my head in refusal.”
“‘Okay, zen I’ll do eet!’ he said, roughly. He grabbed my hand and put it on the big bulge! It was all hot and I felt it jump under his pants like it was alive! And this is one of the things I’ll never forget…while he held my hand, Daddy pulled down his zipper as far as it would go. The sound seemed deafening and I remember shuddering until it stopped.”
“My ears were pounding in time with my heart, and my palms were sweaty as I pulled my hand away and plunged it into the hollow of my skirt where my legs met. There was a clenching feeling there that I’d felt before when playing with Buddy that I didn’t fully understand. Then another scary thing happened that’s always stayed with me. Daddy’s hairy hand moved into the open fly of his pants and he pulled out his thing! It sprang out and up suddenly. It was very long and thick. My heart was in my throat and I couldn’t breathe, ‘cuz it looked really hard, and was dark red on the end where a tube of tan skin partially covered it. Before I knew it he’d snapped his fingers, demanding my hand. I slowly raised my fingers to him and he placed my sweaty palm on the amazing, hot thing. My fingers automatically tried to curl around it, but they wouldn’t reach. But, I didn’t dare move my hand…it just lay on top of it. The thing felt so hard, yet it was so smooth to the touch, like silk or satin. It seemed as soft as the skin between my own legs! I moaned and squeezed it once, causing Daddy to groan, close his eyes and raise his head upward. A drop of stuff appeared from the slit on the end…the little hole in the dark red part. I squeezed again, still frightened but now very curious, realizing that my hand could do that…could make him ooze. Another drop popped out and stuck between my thumb and forefinger.”
“‘Yesss…babee…don’ be afraid. Daddy needs thees…’, and he took one pace forward, sticking the scary thing right in my face, as it stiffened even more and jumped up and down twice. He then wrapped his right hand over mine and placed his left one behind my head. His fingers pressed against the base of my skull between my two braids. Then he held his thing in two fingers and rubbed the end of it…his dick!…across my slightly open lips, from one side of my mouth to the other. I trembled all over when he did that, and I saw my spit that had coated the…you know…the end. The gooey stuff on it tasted funny, kinda salty and a little like tapioca with no sugar. Without warning, he flicked his hips forward and the tip of his thing went into my mouth. I bleated, then looked up with my lips around him, and he was staring down at me…so lovingly!”
“I’d never before seen that soft, tender expression in his eyes, and I realized that my lips – what I was doing – were causing him to love me…or love me more than he did before! I couldn’t get enough of that look, so I began moving my hand on his cock. I even took more of it in my mouth, licking it, which made him grimace and groan, and once again to glance down with that loving look. So, I moved my tongue around his prick again – several times – and opened my mouth wider. Of course, he took advantage of that.”
“Did he force you?” I heard Erica’s voice ask.
“No, I was too eager to please him! ‘Tell me what to do, Daddy,’ I whispered, pulling off him for a second. ‘I wanna make you feel good!’ I was so naïve for a high school girl.”
“‘Ohhh…Ginny…my sweet leetle girl. Jus’ suck softly on me…an’ move your head back and forth,’ he gasped.”
“I did as he asked, very slowly and wetly, and soon he was pushing all the way to the back of my mouth ’til I gagged. When I did that, I reached up with both hands to encircle his dick, so we could move together without me choking. That worked for several minutes, until I got used to his taste. It was really quiet, except for the sound of my lips smacking around him. I actually kind of liked it, especially since he was whispering my name so softly…so lovingly…and groaning. He kept pushing into my mouth slowly, then pulling out. After a while I began moving my head to and fro so he didn’t have to flex his hips. When I did that, though, his hips moved faster…then faster yet…and he began making whimpering sounds, sounding very unlike himself. Then, all of a sudden, he moved his hips at me really fast and splashed a whole lot of hot juice into my mouth. When he did that, I yelled in my throat, terrified, and tried to pull off, but his iron grip on the back of my head held me in place, forcing me to swallow all the creamy stuff he was shooting down my virgin throat. It seemed to take forever as I gulped and gulped, sometimes gagging a little. It felt as if I’d swallowed a gallon of thin, sweet though sour white sauce, and I waited ’til his thighs stopped trembling and he’d released my head. I peered up at him as he looked down and there was a gentle, peaceful smile on his face.”
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