Sheraton Princess Kaiulani Hotel, Honolulu, Hawaii. November 1979.
Room occupied by newlyweds from California Richard and Deborah Chase.
It was an early morning hour when the first rays of the rising sun started coming through the window shade, illuminating the fully equipped modern room on the ninth floor of the luxurious Princess Kaiulani Hotel.
While getting inside, the sunlight began mercilessly caressing the whole place. It took particular interest in two bodies – athletic male and more fragile female – snuggling under the covers of a large soft bed.
Waking up after a night of almost unearthly pleasure, the young and handsome Richard Chase, 25, had enough reasons to feel happy and life-loving. First, he had recently become his father’s company majority shareholder and thus was less concerned about the future. Second, he had married his college sweetheart and the most beautiful girl on earth, the 24-year-old Deborah Wilkins.
Both were inseparable since the first year in UC Sunnydale and were voted to be the most spectacular couple time and time again.
Now both were enjoying their honeymoon in one of the picturesque part of the United States, having fun, going to the beach, the movies or restaurants, and, of course, making love and plans for the future.
“Rick…” – Deborah murmured sweetly pressing herself against her husband’s sleepy form.
“Yeah, Deb, my love?..” – Mr. Chase said yawning and placing his hand on his wife’s waist.
“Last night…” – she said dreamily, closing her eyes and re-living those remarkable moments of pure happiness and uncontrollable passion. – “Last night was wonderful… It was magic…”
“Last night was special” – Richard agreed, kissing his spouse. – “Every minute with you, my love, makes me wanna fly. I wanna tell the whole world I’m the happiest man alive, ‘cause I’ve got you by my side, Debbie. You make me complete”.
“I love you, darling” – Richard whispered in Deborah’s ear, stroking her long blonde hair lovingly.
“Love you too, Rick” – she replied, arching her back a little.
Their mouths met for a long and passionate kiss. They continued kissing with such a passion as if their whole lives depended on it.
Debbie moaned hugging her husband, her Richard around his neck. She felt seventh heaven when his gentle hands started fondling her beautiful smooth breast.
They continued making out without a word for some time until Mrs. Chase broke the silence.
“You know, Richard, I’ve been thinkin’ about it all lately…”
“Well, what were you thinking about, my princess?” – Richard inquired, taking Deborah’s hand in his.
“What do you think about having a baby?” – woman decided to get straight to the point.
“Good idea” – he smiled. – “I think I like kids. They’re adorable. I remember my family’s constant visits to Uncle Danny and Aunt Rose in Anaheim, and playing with my younger cousins Stevie and Lou was definitely the best part of the whole thing. Then when my older sis’ got married and gave birth to my wonderful niece Betsy… I think I’m quite familiar with most things children-related… So I believe I can have a kids of my own… Kids with the most gorgeous woman in this world!”
Saying this, Mr. Chase pulled his young wife closer, inhaling her enchanting smell. Why all the mornings couldn’t be like this one, he thought.
“Rick” – Deborah murmured tenderly in her husband’s ear. – “You’ll be a great father, sweetie, I’m sure.”
She kissed him softly in the nose and then started running her forefinger around Richard’s muscular chest. She leaned her head on her spouses chest and began caressing man’s cheek with her left hand.
“Richard… I even came up with a name…”
Mr. Chase raised his eyebrow: “You mean, baby’s name?”
“So?..” – Richard cupped Debbie’s face in his hands, made her meet his gaze.
“If my first-born child will be a girl, I wanna give her a name Cordelia”
“Cordelia. It’s a beautiful name which is not common these days… I want our child to be special, Ricky, in ev’ry aspect.”
“You have a point, Deb” – Mr. Chace replied, looking at his wife with some lustful sparks in his eyes.
Deborah always understood that particular look. Without hesitation she got on top of him, pressing her naked body up against Richard’s.
The feast of love continued.
Hank and Joyce Summers’ apartment. Los Angeles, California. June 1980.
That was the night of sheer passion. The bedroom walls of a rather small central-L.A. apartment witnessed silently the dramatic love battle taking place on a massive bed positioned in the middle.
Hank Summers, the 24-year-old employee of a local law firm, and his wife, the 22-year-old Joyce (née Morgan), former art student, laid entwined in each other’s arms.
They went through hours of rocking and rolling, fulfilling their wildest dreams, making each other happy in a way only young loving married couples can do. In the moments like that Hank and Joyce learned to forget ‘bout everything, believing that the whole white world had been reduced to the size of their bed.
Their sex had always been passionate, carnal, sensual and very special. And tonight they made love as if it was their last time. Hank was manly and dominant, while his beautiful wife was an epitome of tenderness and fragility.
They met during a homecoming in Joyce’s freshmen year at Occidental College and soon became one of the most remarkable couples in the student circles. Many envied them. Both were handsome and smart, both were good students and active participants in college affairs.
Despite growing up during and after the disturbances of 1960s, Joyce and Hank remained faithful to some parts of the traditional worldview. Therefore they dreamed about happy family life with lots of kids, household pets and picnics on the weekends…
They got married soon after graduating from, thus fulfilling at least one of those dreams that make many average Americans happy…
…That night they were working really hard to make their next dream come true…
“Oh…. Joycieeeee… you’re a goddess…” – Hank moaned while his wife was slowly mounting him. He was already hard when Mrs. Summers rolled him over.
“Yeah, baby…” – Joyce murmured after straddling her man with her legs on both sides. She started to tease Hank, looking at him seductively and scratching his chest with her beautiful red-painted fingernails.
It was truly fantastic. Joyce’s pale skin almost shone in the moonlight, making woman look godlike.
Joyce Summers looked her husband in the eyes teasingly before lowering herself entirely onto Hank’s manhood.
Mr. Summers felt like happiest man in the whole state of California.
“You’re perfect, Joyce…” – he whispered passionately.
Meanwhile Joyce hovered, brushing against the tip of his cock with her clit and then stuck her cute ass in the air. She used her hand to guide Hank’s hard penis into her vagina. Once he was in her the woman began moving slowly up and down along the length of Hank’s shaft, tilting her hips slightly…
Wanting his woman desperately, Mr. Summers started to lift Joyce up and down, with his strong hands underneath her butt and then on her hips. He rocked her back and forth.
“I love you, Joyce Summers” – Hank said dreamily, rubbing all the right places inside of Mrs. Summers. Their pleasure kept building up.
Giving in to the unearthly pleasure, Joyce leaned on her husband’s chest, slightly rubbing it with her hard nipples.
Hank’s body responded with jerking as he emptied himself inside her.
After the wild ride was over Joyce laid beside her spouse, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling. Their naked bodies continued sweating profusely.
“Wow…” – that was almost all Hank Summers could say at the moment.
“Did you like it?” – Joyce asked her husband mischievously.
“You’re perfect” – Hank replied embracing his love.
“You know, dear, I already began to come up with baby names…”
“Names?” – he asked her.
“Yeah, names” – the woman repeated delighted. – “I want many babies. Three or even four.”
“Wouldn’t it be too much, sweetie pie?” – Hank said poking Joyce tenderly at her ribs.
“No, honey. I grew up with two sisters and it was cool.”
“Right.” – Hank smiled giving his wife a wink. – “Who am I to argue with beautiful Joyce, the most gorgeous women ever to walk the Earth? You want three babies – we’ll work on that.”
“Oh, Hank…” – she kissed her beloved husband and then snuggled against his manly form.
“So what’s with the names?” – he asked.
She just smiled in return.
“Come on, Joyce… Please tell me” – Hank said with mocking expression. – “Satisfy my lust for knowledge.”
“Honey, I can satisfy your lust in some other ways” – Joyce answered with seductive grin. – “But if you wanna know, I’ll tell you. I’d like to name the boy William…”
“William? Sounds good I guess… And… what about the girl?”
“If we have a baby girl, I’d like to give her a name Elizabeth.”
His wife’s choice made Hank Summers chuckle a little: “Elizabeth? Oh, you mean, like Her Majesty the Queen?”
“No, Hank. The Queen has nothing to do with it. It’s just a beautiful name, don’t you think?”
“Of course it is” – Hank agreed. He couldn’t disagree with his handsome and smart wife.
He pulled her closer to him and soon once again they started losing themselves in the heat of the night.
Ira and Sheila Rosenberg’s apartment. Sunnydale, California. July 1980.
Hot summer nights in California were perfect times for passionate lovemaking – especially in cases of young couples married less than a year. Yet despite nighttime, summer heat, only one bed around and the absence of clothing, Ira and Sheila Rosenberg, both 26-year-old former UCLA sociology faculty students, husband and wife for ten months, seemed to be million miles away from one another.
That wasn’t because they didn’t love each other, but rather due to the fact that there were things that aroused this couple far more than sex. Those things were science and research.
Ira and Sheila sat side by side in their bed under the covers, studying attentively some magazines and manuals. Plenty of that printed matter was lying strewn on the bed and on the floor.
To a casual observer it could look like two college students taken by surprise in the middle of copulation with the news about the upcoming exam that were desperately trying not to screw everything up the next morning.
But Sheila and Ira weren’t that kind of people. All of their lives they were taught to be the responsible members of society. Hence – no sex before marriage.
The first time Ira Rosenberg and his classmate Sheila Leibowitz set their eyes on each other was during an active discussion on some irrelevant subject (one of those things sociologists love so much) in their second year at the UCLA.
Since then everyone knew it was the matter of time until the two realize they were destined to end up together. It took several years to graduate and find some steady job before Mr. Rosenberg cleared his head and asked the love of his life to be his wife.
Their families wasn’t too happy about their children’s choice, the only consolation was that both were Jewish. Nevertheless, Ira and Sheila who fell more and more into the liberal and progressive agenda of the day, refused to have a traditional wedding ceremony in favor of a secular one.
Ira and Sheila Rosenberg were serious people. They had no time for bullshitting. Having a family meant responsible parenting first and foremost. But they also had a dream: they wanted to give birth to a special child, the extraordinary one, smart and talented, the one that could be raised as a successful person, the one who would make it big someday.
Another point was that both were over the top interested in child psychology, in everything connected to kids’ habits, tastes, behavior patterns etc. So they were more than glad to have potential research subject in their own household.
“Any luck finding something?” – Ira Rosenberg inquired, looking at his spouse.
“Not much luck unfortunately” – Sheila told, putting her manual down. – “That family planning stuff usually deals with the exact time of bringing someone into this world, not what kind of person she or he should be…”
“Just as I thought…” – Ira muttered, laying his head back on a pillow and staring at the bedroom ceiling.
Sheila for her part looked at the window. Then she turned back to her husband taking his hand in hers.
“There’s got to be some other way” – Mr. Rosenberg broke the silence once again.
“I guess, most of the things, you and me keep talking about for so long, have nothing to do with how or when do we conceive this baby of ours” – his wife said. – “In fact more things depend on child’s upbringing. It has a lot to do with how we will prepare our child to live in this world and to be a productive member of society.”
“Does society have to be in the first place?” – Ira asked suddenly.
“Yes it does, Ira.” – his wife replied adamantly. – “Children have to learn how to live in the world around them, they must know how to face the reality, they should know how to outgrow all those childish fantasies, delusions and misconceptions...”
Sheila looked around, sighed and then continued: “Modern children cannot live in the society and stay away from it. This ultra-individualism has never done good to anyone. Putting oneself above responsibilities and obligations is the easiest way to not achieve anything. If we want our future child to be somebody, the last thing we should do is spoiling her or him.”
“You have a point, darling, but… don’t you think that much stress on all those responsibilities, rules and regulations may cause an opposite effect. Kids don’t like pressure, you know”. – Ira’s stance on the subject was somewhat softer than that of his wife.
“You can’t cook an omelet without breaking eggs, darling” – Sheila said with a serious expression only she could put on her face (while lying naked in bed with her husband). – “If you want the kid to achieve something, to find his place in life, you have no choice but to put some pressure on him or her. Sure, they won’t be happy at first, but I know they will be more than grateful after they mature and learn enough. No parent wants something bad or unbearable for his children, believe me. This is just for their own good, remember”.
She moved up, laying her head on a pillow and exposing her breast.
“You’re right, honey” – Ira Rosenberg tried to agree with his wife, while staring at her charms. – “But… what I’m tryin’ to say is this: we talk a lot ‘bout how we see the future of our child, what we want for him or her. What about what the kid wants?”
“At a very young age they do not know that much to have a clear picture of reality or their place in it. They have zero experience in most things – so it’s, you know, not very wise to rely too much on their wants and demands” – Sheila sounded way too confident while grinning in more and more carnal way.
It was late at night. The Rosenberg couple liked that kind of ‘scientific’ debate which reminded them about their years as students. They could go on like that for hours, but all of a sudden both figured out they were in their marital bed, not in some classroom.
Ira and Sheila Rosenberg fell into each other’s arms and started fucking like rabbits.
Some desolate barn on a farm not far from Sunnydale, California. April 1980.
The place wasn’t suitable enough for a games like these, but Anthony Harris, 21, and his girlfriend Jessica MacNair, 19, couldn’t care less. They were young and horny, they had nothing else to do and they wanted to spend more time together.
Their clothes were lying scattered across the earthen floor, while Tony and Jessica had fun on the pile of hay. Jessica stood on her hands and knees with her tits swinging, while her boyfriend fucked her from behind doggie style.
Re-writing Kama Sutra wasn’t that easy for two American kids, so they had no choice, but to use some help. Time and time again Jessica smoked a joint, and Tony… well, he just drank whiskey out of the bottle.
Their ‘dialogue’ was quite expectable.
“Oooohhh, Toooonyyyy, you are…. soooooo… Oooohh, pleeeeeeze, honey… doo it to meee… do iiiit to meee nooow… Fuck me haaard…. Pleeeeeezeeee, fuuuuuck me haaaard!”
“Yeah baby…” – was the laconic answer.
Tony Harris was a gas station employee and an asshole, the kind you don’t wanna mess with. He was rude and obnoxious, loved to drink and most people who knew him thanked God for not crossing Tony’s path one way or another. He was considered a white trash, the lowest of the low by many. Meanwhile Jessica worked for a living as waitress. Much like her boyfriend, she didn’t have a happy home life and wanted desperately to escape from that soul-killing life.
Like many girls her age, Jessica MacNair had those fantasies ‘bout living happily ever after in company of some knight in shining armor. Tony was nowhere near decent enough to fall into this category, but he was strong and well-built, he was cool and he could sometimes fuck like a beast. The guy was a manimal and Jessica almost wet herself, recalling their sex on more than one occasion.
Tony got tired and laid back in the hay, sweat running down his muscular body. He took another whiskey drink and stared at the ceiling. He had satisfied his needs once again and thought life was good. Life couldn’t be that bad, when whiskey and chicks were still around.
Jessica took a sitting position, looking around and inhaling deeply. Brushing her hair away from her face, she scanned whiskey bottle in her boyfriend’s hand. Sex with Tony always left her throat dry, so she reached out for the ‘Love potion No 9’. Knowing her needs, Harris handed the bottle to his girlfriend.
Jessica took a sip, moving her hand across her slender stomach, sending some invisible signals to her lover.
“What’s up, babe?” – Tony was the first to speak.
“Fine” – she said. – “Did you like it?”
You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what ‘it’ was.
“Sure, kiddo” – Tony chuckled, looking at his girlfriend kind of rapey. – “You were fantastic. I thought my balls gonna bust, you know.”
Jessica smiled before taking one more drink from the bottle. She crawled over to Tony, taking his penis in her hand. Harris nearly jumped up surprised at girl’s sudden move. Then his face split into a lustful grin.
That sort of sight gag continued for several minutes. Both stared at each other: Tony grinning like a madman, Jessica licking her lips. She had a whiskey bottle in her right hand and her boyfriend’s manhood in her left.
Putting the bottle aside, Jessica leaned forward, keeping her eyes fixed on her man’s dick. Then, as was often the case, she gave her partner a blowjob.
“Ohhhh, gal… you’re amazing… Oooohhh…” – Tony moaned with an idiot smile on his face. This was the part he usually liked the most.
… They were lying side-by-side, still nude, sweating and breathing heavily, staring up at the barn ceiling which hadn’t changed a bit.
“Tony…” – Jessica started.
“I’ve been thinking a lot recently, you know…” – she paused for a moment.
“So?..” – Tony tried to intervene.
“You and me, you know.” – she said. – “We love each other… Do you love me, Tony?..”
“Of course I do, honey” – Tony answered scratching his balls a little.
“So, we do love each other and we are good for each other… and… I mean, we can make each other happier then we already are… So… how about… uhm… you know, moving on some kinda higher level of our relationship?..”
Silence reigned upon them for a minute or two.
“Y-you like the idea?” – Jessica turned and glanced at her boyfriend.
“Oh I see…” – Tony decided to say. – “You’re tryin’ to rope me in, girl…”
He looked at his girlfriend with a strange sparks in the eyes.
“But anyway…” – he continued. – “It’s a man’s duty to make his woman happy… A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, you know. So how can I refuse?..”
“Oh, Tony, you’re wonderful… I’ve always dreamed ‘bout a family with kids and house and everything…” – Jessica kissed him on the mouth.
He didn’t answer, but started caressing his woman’s thighs. Without warning Tony grabbed his girlfriend and put her on top of him. She started licking her lips with excitement.
Tony Harris grinned, looking at his future wife’s naked form from top to toe.
“You’re smart girl, Jesse, very smart” – he told her. – “And now you need a little patience, sweetheart. ‘Coz kids aren’t born all by themselves, you know…”
Pratt family mansion. London, England. Ca 1853.
Bedroom of William Pratt Sr.
“In the name of God and Her Majesty the Queen I demand you spread your legs immediately and let me perform my marital duties, Anne Caroline Pratt!”
For nearly half an hour William Cameron Pratt, the 33-year-old merchant from British capital, tried desperately to take the virginity of his 21-year-old wife Anne (née Porter), the shy farmer’s daughter. It was a marriage arranged by the families of two: the newlyweds barely knew or spent considerable amount of time together before all the ceremonies.
And now Mr. William Pratt asked, begged and demanded, but to no avail. Words and exhortations didn’t help, but the head of the newborn family was too much of a gentleman to use unnecessary force.
The man was getting sufficiently frustrated, ready to bang his head against the wall or to start breaking things, yet his young dewy-faced wife stayed relentless and kept her legs shut.
“What in God’s name is happening to you, wife of mine?” – the merchant asked his spouse, mentally acknowledging his family life not to be all ponies and rainbows. – “Why are you so adamant in not letting me, your rightful husband, bound with you by the Sacred Marriage, to impregnate you with my semen?? Answer me!”
He glared at the poor girl almost viciously, making her shiver and bury her face in her hands. She was under warm blanket, but her naked body started getting goose bumps.
Anne Pratt looked at her husband in awe, her face red from constant crying. The man on the other hand reddened considerably as well due to the growing impatience. And lust.
Mr. Pratt shuddered and started pouring with cold sweat at the very thought of becoming an unlucky character of some creepy urban legend. He imagined his fellow Londoners passing stories ‘bout a man unable to take his newlywed wife’s virginity inside his own bedroom from generation to generation…
William pressed his face against the bedsheets and groaned. Anne kept watching her spouse torn between her own defiance and her pity for an unlucky gentleman.
“Alright” – the man started talking after some pause. – “So you refuse permission for your doodle sack... This stance of yours unfortunately brings myself to express an opinion, that you, dear Anne, ceased to be a virgin long ago. I have this suspicion that some other – unknown and unworthy – man has already tasted what was supposed to be mine!”
Saying this, Mr. Pratt grimaced, trying to make his words sound as condemnatory as possible. That approach appeared to be more successful: Anne nearly broke down and threw herself to her husband.
“No! You are wrong, kind sir! I am still a virgin! I have never known a man in my life, I have kept my virtue for all those years! My private parts are still private!!”
“Pardon me, my dear, but I must reject this statement of yours” – he tried to sound skeptical to the core and he succeeded in scaring Mrs. Pratt shitless. – “Your family will very soon know the depths of your disgrace.”
After hearing this Anne went pale and burst into tears. She started begging and babbling in an attempt to put her arms around William, while still keeping access to her entrance closed.
“Nononoohpleasegodno!” – she sobbed. – “Please don’t do this to me, oh kind sir, please… I swear I haven’t slept with any man. You are my first and the only one…”
“But how can I confirm the truthfulness of your words?” – William asked coldly.
Anne kept weeping like a baby, forcing her rightful husband to back down a little.
“Well, then will you explain everything to me?” – the merchant tried to reason with his spouse. – “What is wrong with you, oh lovely Anne?”
“I… I… I’m afraid…” – that was all she managed to say.
“Afraid?” – Mr. Pratt raised his eyebrow. – “I beg your pardon, but afraid of what? What exactly are you afraid of? Or WHO are you afraid of? Is it me?”
“I’m afraid because of the pain” – she confessed. – “I can’t stand it.”
She turned away wiping her eyes.
At last Mr. Pratt got a key to solving something. It was a common situation: some virgins were coming to dread their first sexual intercourse. For some it was rather painful experience letting the man inside their coffee-houses…
“Why do you think it will be that painful, my child?” – William decided to inquire.
“Y-you think it won-n’t?” – Anne asked him.
“Ehmm… Well… Maybe just a little. It could hurt, but just a tiny bit. And after that you will experience a true bliss, the joy of purest kind, my dear. You will feel like heaven, Anne. I will do my best to satisfy you.”
Anne looked into her husband’s eyes intently. She had already stopped crying, though her face remained reddened a bit.
“H-how do you know this?” – she dared to ask.
That question caught the older man off-guard: “W-what do you mean?”
“How do you know what it is like? I mean, this whole marital thing, joy and bliss, heaven… How did you learn? Did you bring some other women into this bed of yours to teach you?..”
“Bloody hell, woman, how dare you???” – William Pratt Sr. was furious. – “Who told you this complete nonsense?? William Cameron Pratt is a decent hard-working and God-fearing man, who values things like honor! If you think otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll see you in court!”
He was breathing heavily, looking at his young wife in disbelief. How come this foolish child thought and expressed despicable nonsense of that kind? Anne could feel Mr. Pratt was shaking.
“I promise I shall be good” – William announced after almost perpetual silence. – “I will be gentle. And I will be tender and caring as well. So you, my dear wife, have every right to say or make a sign in case something goes wrong.”
Anne Pratt knew it was time to surrender to her fate and status. She made her marriage vows, promising to love and to obey her husband forevermore. She couldn’t break the promise made before God Almighty, she had no right to. She couldn’t demonstrate her weakness in the face of a minor discomfort. No, the women of England were capable of much more!
Yet she had some doubts.
“Excuse me, kind sir…”
“Please call me William, my love.”
“Good, William. I… I can see I have no choice but to submit to my marital duties in accordance with the vows given. Nevertheless, I have one wish…”
“What kind of wish, my love?”
“Could you perform your marital duties in… let us say… some other way… At this moment… I do not feel like I am ready to let you into my… hmm… tuzzy-muzzy. There have to be more ways to make a married woman happy than just one, I guess… Am I wrong?”
“No, you are right. There are different ways and different positions for a husband and wife to make each other happy. Although I’m afraid there is only one way to get inside the woman’s coffee house and inseminate her…”
“Oh…” – Anne felt quiet and stared at the moonlit window. Her husband knew it was time to come with a plan.
“Alright” – he said. – “Let us do it this way. I will try to… make you feel good from… uhm… another direction. If you like it than maybe we’ll try to work with your… ‘crinkum-crankum’ thing…”
William swallowed hard, feeling waves of arousal overpowering him.
“Good. Be that as it may, my love.” – Anne answered with a smile. Mr. Pratt took his wife’s face into both of his hands and kissed her softly. He was glad, seeing that change of attitude.
“Now please roll over on your stomach. – Mr. Pratt told his spouse. – “For it’s going to be a long-long night.”