Chapter 1

Revkah Handler was about 35, around the same age as my mother. She was the mother of a school friend. At the time, my family didn’t know many Jews and now in 1945 the whole world was trying to come to grips with the concept of the Eastern European killing camps. I’d overheard my mother talking to friends about how could they let that happen, why didn’t they fight, what kind of people... ? My father had died at Guadalcanal and fortunately mom seemed to have enough for us to live on. Arron, Rifka’s son, was OK pretty bookish, but not a total nerd. She had a small flower shop near where we lived and sometimes Arron and I would walk home from school and go to the shop through the alley.

It’s hard not to like a flower shop, smells good, always cool and it was sort of cool to be in the back room and listen to the adults out front.

It was one of the first nice days in early spring when Arron was on his bike and was hit by a hit and run driver. He was in the hospital for over a week and never woke up, then he just stopped breathing. I, had gone to visit, my mother made me, Mrs Handler saw me and started crying harder, next think she was hugging me as if I was her son. At first I was frozen, As a kid, I sure didn’t know what to do. I mean my mother had cried a lot when the telegram came about my father, but she never wept like this! So I stood wrapped in her arms, not knowing where to look or what to do, soon I was patting her back and going ‘there, there’, and feeling stupid; suddenly I realized I could feel Mrs. Handler’s breasts, and her hips. I let my patting hand slid a little lower and soon was patting on the start of the rise of her ass. And I had a typical teenaged erection. My dick has never been that big, but when you’re a kid with a hardon at the wrong time, you think your dick is immense. Not only immense but outlined in neon! I couldn’t help myself, in fact I started grinding against Mrs Handler, not so much from being horny as reacting to something buried in my genes 100 generations before.

She hugged harder! I squeezed her butt cheek, not at the full part but on that slight raise I had been patting. That broke the spell, She pushed me back, “Mike, you’re the only one from school, thank you for coming. Arron and I need friends, real friends, thank you.” When someone’s in a coma, there isn’t a lot to say, so after a while I made the usual nice words. If there’s anything I can do for you?” “Well there is one thing, “ I started kicking myself. “Arron wasn’t as religious as I am. I need a Shabbos Goy” As she explained it, she couldn’t operate mechanical things from sundown Friday to Sundown Saturday, Would I come in Friday evening, and turn off the lights in the flower shop and walk her home and turn them on at her home. And Saturday, if I could met her and lock her door and unblock the shop. She could pay me if I would make change for her on Saturday as she was only open until 2 PM. None of this made any sense to me then and it doesn’t now either. But it was $3.00 and that was more than my allowance so, why question? I took the money, besides I couldn’t get the feel of those big boobs out of my mind. Two days later, Arron died and Mrs Handler asked me if I would sit Shiva with her. It turned out that Rivka had no family, there had been a hell of an argument and they no longer talked. The first night there was Mrs Handler, a neighbor and when the rabbi came by he said he couldn’t pray because you needed 10 people for a Minyan. Mrs Handler cried even harder. I was never very religious, so I was looking at this Rabbi like he was from another planet. A mother is crying over her son and this guy can’t say prayers? After the Rabbi left I told Mrs Handler I would find 10 men for Arron’s Minyan. That night, when I got home an told my mother, she was outraged!

Now my mother was a small c, catholic, not in the best standing, but if you had asked her, she would have told you proudly that she was Irish Catholic. Mom disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a picnic basket then she had me pack a change of clothes in a paper sack. No backpacks back then. You go back over to Mrs Handler and spend the night, you do what ever she asks you, there’s food for the two of you, I don’t know much about Jews but they don’t cook when doing Shiva. Tell her there will be a fucking Minyan tomorrow, is 6 PM all right? Now go, don’t forget 6 PM. “ I had never seen my mother so angry, she scared me!

I had to bang on the door to get Mrs Handler to answer. When she opened it, one look told me she was drunk. With an Irish mother I had been to enough wakes where everybody got drunk so I wasn’t surprised that jews had the same customs as micks did. Only much later was I to find out about the legendary *(supposedly) non drinking among Jews.

I should digress here to let people know that two and three generations ago, people weren’t so politically correct. Chicago was a city of neighborhoods, you had jews, swedes, irish, german, italian, bohemian, hungarians, polish and everything else from europe. At school, at home at work people referred to other groups by what would now be called ethnic slurs, There were guineas, wops, dagos, eye-ties, krauts, blockheads, fritzes, frogs, frenchies, limmies, micks, shanty irish, bog men, cockneys, scotties, kilt boys, yids, kikes, sheenies, bohunks, polacks, hunkies, niggers, spics, chinks, slants, and probably a 100 other names that I’ve forgotten. Back then a black guy was a spade, a nigger, a shine or what ever, just like I was a mick; then the nickname wasn’t an insult, the insult was in the way the word was used. The only real ethnic insult I ever heard back then was, ‘greenhorn’. That’s the one that got everyone angry.

It took a little while to get through to Mrs Handler about why I was there. She cried even more when I showed her the food I had brought. After I got her to eat a little something, I explained that there would be 10 men here tomorrow to say kaddish over Arron. That really brought out the waterworks! To be honest, I could only put up with a certain amount of grief sharing, before I starting getting fed up. “OK Mrs Handler, that’s enough! Stop that! Aaron wouldn’t like it, I sure don’t like it now stop. You stop, I’ll get you another drink.” That shut her down to sniffles, living among the Irish had taught me something about drunks.

In the kitchen I could see Mrs Handler was half way through a bottle of Four Roses. As I made her a highball, I had to taste it. I think it was that taste of cheap bourbon that made me a scotch drinker the rest of my life! When I got back to the living room, Mrs Handler was sprawled over the couch, her makeup had run all over the place between the tears and her wiping her face. I handed her her drink and got a warm, wet washcloth, when I tried to hand it to her she brushed my hand away. “Mrs Handler, Revkah, stop, let me wipe your face! Sit still!”

“Yes sir” I looked up to see if she was being funny. This was the first time I had ever had an adult treat me with the kind of respect that called for a ‘sir’. I liked it. Sensing I temporarily had an edge, I said, “Come over here and sit on my lap so I can clean your face, you’re too pretty to look like this.” I swear up till the moment she sat on my lap I had not had a dirty thought. But when she sat down I felt her soft ass. That was back in the days when women all worn some sort of foundation garment, as they were called. From corset like things to light weight panty girdles. A passionate study of the Sears catalog had shown me that all ladies wore something to make sure that their butts did not wiggle. Mrs. Handler’s soft ass spread on me as she sat on my lap. My dick was a first responder and my mind was quickly right behind, reminding me of that hug and those soft boobs. Mrs Handler pushed her face forward as my prick pushed against the soft cushion that was her ass. As I started to wipe tears and makeup off her face, I couldn’t believe that she couldn’t feel my dick, a dick desperate to be free! As I finished one side of her face she turned the other towards me and gave a small wiggle that only seated my dick more firmly against her ass. My mind was screaming, ‘she has to feel it! Has to!’ But my dick out-yelled my mind. ‘Enjoy, she wants it’

I got her face pretty clean without scrubbing and there we sat, Mrs. Handler on my lap, one arm around my neck the other holding her drink. She say, Here hold this.” And as I reached for the glass, she kissed me. A real kiss, not a mother’s kiss, this was like the stuff I saw in movies. I was holding her with one arm and with the other had the dammed glass, I dropped the glass on the floor to get that arm around her. Now I tried to kiss back, at the time, I had no idea of how little I knew about kissing, good thing for me Mrs Handler was drunk. I ran my drink dropping arm up and down her back and had to try; my hand went to her side and ran down her hips and over her nylon covered legs, on it’s journey back up I brushed the side of her breasts. I was so hot, I had almost copped a feel! Suddenly Mrs. Handler’s tongue was in my mouth. I had only heard about that sort of thing, but newness didn’t stop me from returning the exchange. This time my hand went down and cupped her outside boob. Believe me, all I did was cup, I was scared, I was excited, I didn’t know what to do next.

Mrs Handler showed me the way; her hand pushed my deeper into her boob and she pulled back to tell me, “Help me, take care of me” As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t pick her up, she was too big for me, but I did have to get her off my knees, my legs were going numb. But I sure wanted to get her into the bedroom where we could lay down. My solution was another drink. “Let’s get you in the bedroom where you can rest, I’ll get you another drink.” Thar got her up and I lead, held and aimed her as we bounced off of hallway walls on the way to her bedroom. I got her to sit on the bed and told her I’d be back with her drink. I made her a very weak highball and when I got back to the bedroom she had managed to get her dress off, sort of and had loosened her bra before falling on her side. Now, I had helped my mother more than once when she had had too much to drink. At most that help had been to get her out of a skirt and blouse. Mom almost always wore a slip so I never saw a lot. But I will confess to feeling a breast through both slip and bra. That was hot. One time when pulling mom’s skirt off, her slip rode up and I was looking at her crotch under the slip and the panty girdle she was wearing. I put my hand on her crotch over her panties. It was warm, I was scared. That night I went to sleep with that unwashed hand under my nose. Even with all of that I wasn’t in heat for my mom, I was curious about girls. Being an only child, my only sex knowledge was hearsay. I had read the dirty parts of James T Farrell and Upton Sinclair, and listened to all the dirty talk I could overhear. If tested on the mechanics of sex, I’m sure I would have failed. I had this vague idea about putting your prick inside her cunt, but that was it! The rest was all hearsay and nonsense. As I was to shortly find out, that’s all you really had to know. On the job training, would take care of the rest. I had been told that the reason there were so many Chinese is that their vagina was horizontal rather than vertical so they could have more children. My mind was awash in that sort of foolishness. So touching and looking at my mother was more educational than lusty.

Now, I had a woman, a woman who had kissed me and used her tongue with her bra half off. With only a moment’s hesitation my path was clear! It was time to examine tits, up close! I got her bra off without waking her. On her side her boobs were hanging down, but still had those compound curves that women are endowed with. I discovered that there are sort of pimple like things all around the nipple. I almost jumped when the nipple I was touching, started to grow and harden. I didn’t know about that at all! I had to move Mrs. Handler a little to get at the lower nipple to see if they both did the same thing. Now, all I had done was lightly touch her nipples, now I had to feel the whole breast. Damn, they were heavy, I thought they would be feather light. Back then I was so naive that I didn’t know bras held boobs up, I thought women wore them just so guys would get more frustrated. Heavy but wonderful, something like holding a balloon ¾ full of warm caramel. Pliable but resilient, my dick sure loved the sensation! I could feel my cock leaking and would have stopped to beat off except this was a once in a million chance. I had long ago prepared a cover story if my mother woke up so I had my backup story ready if Mrs Handler started yelling.

Bra off, time to start on the bottom. Anyone else would have started with removing her skirt, I was afraid that might wake her before I reached my destination. So, nylons; hooked on one in front one in back each leg, a little hard to get the rear snaps but managed to do it without even a grunt from Mrs Handler. I had seen my mother with her stockings so I had the idea down but the big difference from watching my mother to taking off Mrs. H’s socks was the fact that I was touching her. Thighs a little sweaty but thighs and calfs, warm and smooth! Jesus it was all I could do to not beat off right there!. Unlike my mother, no painted toenails. I knew there was a snap for the garter belt but I would have had to roll her over to get at it. Time to go for Eldorado; looking back, my fingers were shaking and my brow was sweating, I must have looked like one of those guys in a crime film, trying to crack a safe. Well, I was after bigger stuff than money! Slowly, I worked my hands beyond the garter belt up to the top of her panties. Then even slower, I curled my fingers over the elastic and started to pull down. I was stopped dead by her weight pinning the panties to the bed. “Not this close’, I screamed in my head. Well an order had worked before, “Mrs Handler, lift up we have to get these off of you!” The answer was a mumbled grunt, but some hip movement. I had those panties off in a flash, Mrs. Handler lifted her ass when she felt the pressure from my pulling.

Well, let’s see how far we can go with orders. “Mrs Handler, stand up we have to get the rest of these off of you. Now!” As I pulled on her she responded, drunkenly but she tried to get up Soon I had an almost falling woman nude from the waist up hanging on me. As I found and undid the snap on her garter belt she wrapped her arms around my neck, her thermite tits boring holes in my chest. One final push and I had a naked women in my arms. My poor dick gave up all hope and I came. I came in my pants, that sort of pissed me off. I swear, up to that minute all I had wanted to do with the drunken Mrs Handler was look and maybe touch a little to verify all the rumors I had heard. I walked us back to the bed and lowered her on to it. Then I went to the toilet and wiped my dick and sponged my shorts to get most of the cum off of them. When I came back Mrs. H was laying there legs spread and I saw my very first pussy. Once I saw it, all was lost. I was on the bed next to her with all my clothes on. The first thing I noticed was how flat her tits had gotten when she was on her back. I had to touch to see if they had changed somehow, no they had just spread. I almost felt like a spectator as I watched my hand move down her stomach, barely noticing how slender she was, I could actually feel her hipbone, but when I reached her pubic hair I was stopped cold. Whatever was in there, I knew was brand new, uncharted, well I might not sail off the end of the earth, but this was the Rubicon I was crossing today! I swear, I had convinced myself, ‘just a touch, just one’. How true, the biggest lies are the ones you tell yourself. The hair itself, was much wirery than I expected, and as I pressed down, fat, how could she be fat there? Shouldn’t that be boney, I mean a hole to go inside, boney right? As my hand got closer to her vagina, I didn’t even realize I was hunching closer to her body. When my fingers touched that slit I froze. I don’t know if anyone today can understand how secret sex was back in the forties. Looking back I can see where stuff was going on, but it wasn’t in the open. Back then, abortion was really dangerous; a back alley, coat hanger thing. As I grew up, it almost became a joke about some girl or another, having to go take care of a sick aunt. They would be back in five months or so. And those in the know, knew another baby had been given up for adoption.

I was about to dip into the secret well of adulthood and I honestly couldn’t tell you if I was more excited or more scared. When my finger slid over her slit, it naturally fell into the valley made by the outer lips. I barely wiggled a finger and was inside of a woman! All the way up to the first knuckle! Mrs H made some noise in the back of her throat and her legs moved a little but otherwise she didn’t acknowledge my intrusion. I was shocked at how wet she was and at first I thought she might have just pissed and not wiped, but then I felt how viscous the fluid was and knew it was something else. Slowly I moved all the way down to the second joint of my middle finger. I had heard about fingering a girl, and wondered if this was what they were talking about. I finally got brave enough to move inside of her. A little deeper, a little bit out, then up and down. I was amazed to find that she wasn’t that wide all the way down. I got my finger into that inner hole and got a sigh from Mrs. Handler. As I was exploring, I found out later I touched her clit several times. It wasn’t until Becky, as I was calling her by then, took pity on me and gave me a guided tour that I found out that all those cums were coming mostly from that little button.

Mrs Handler grabbed my wrist and hand in a death grip. I felt like I jumped a foot. The only reason my hand was still on her crotch was her grip. “Take care of me. Help me! This lowly jew needs you.” I looked up at her face and her eyes were still closed. I guessed she was dreaming.

“Relax now, I’ll take care of you, I’ll take good care of you” And to punctuate my words, I put a second finger inside of her. Now her hand was moving mine. Up to that secret clit then back down and pushing into her her.

“Take care of this, you jew cunt.” And she grabbed my dick through my pants. That hand on my dick decided my future. I had my pants pushed down to my knees in a flash. Her hand only released my cock long enough to get my pants down and now my cock was in her hot hand. With my shirt and shoes still on I was in bed holding a naked woman who was holding my prick, I thought a kiss was appropriate, her kiss back was predatory, as if a lamprey eel had latched on to me. I was being devoured, as I tried to take charge by getting closer and on top, her hands and lips became more aggressive. She was jerking my dick and rubbing her cunt with the other hand. Mrs Handler was so frantic that her dick jerks actually hurt.

“Stop that, lay still a minute!” Both of her hands stopped, ever her mouth stopped trying to latch on to me.

Softly, “I’m sorry, I’ll try to be good, tell me, tell me what to do.” I looked at her face, eyes still closed. I had seen my mother pretend to not remember the next day after being drunk and stupid, and I guessed that was what Mrs Handler was up to, far be it from me not to take advantage.

“Alright, time to be the good jew broad, spread your legs!” Not a word! She did what I told her! I was between those legs in a second, trying to get into the center of the world, the secret of all time. After my third stab, her hand was down there and guided me in to her.

All the beating off in the world can not prepare you for the first time you are in a woman. Sensations on technicolor, feelings on a roller coaster, for the first time in my life I was fully aware of my body, well at least the important part. I felt every sensation along the length of my dick. I could actually feel her cunt against the indent on my dick, just below the head; her pubic hair, my pubic hair, I could feel my pubic hair! I was in a pussy! I had to stop still for a moment to inventory all the sensations. Impossible, too much information, too wonderful to not wallow in. I have to wonder if today’s kids with their more casual attitudes about sex aren’t missing the mystical excitement, people of my generation experienced.

Thank god I had just cum, because I sure would have right then and there! I soon discovered that moving my dick gave me more sensations than just stationary occupation. Suddenly Mrs. Handler’s legs were around me, at first I was scared, was she going to hold me for the police or something? But then when her legs and locked ankles tried to pull me further into her. By the third stroke, it occurred to me, I KNOW HOW TO FUCK! I was off and running. Somehow I got Mrs Handler’s legs unlocked and over my shoulders. That was very good. I was in charge, as I held her legs in place with my arms, my hands went down and grabbed her tits. Looking back I think I was more into securing her as if I was afraid she would escape, rather than domination.

“Open your eyes, look at me; you like this, you like gentile cock or young cock, well you’re getting both. And I came and fell on her

“I like your cock, don’t leave me, let me be your ‘shtetl klafte’1.’ Since she was holding my slimy dick as she said it, I might not know what she was talking about but I was all for it.”

She was still drunk, “Oh I’m terrible, don’t tell your mother, she’ll kill me, please, I’ll do anything, just don’t tell, Please?” But she didn’t let go of my dick. As a child, I had learned from my mother that you couldn’t reason or little less talk to a drunk. No matter what you said or did the drunk always felt that if they told you once more, all would be clear. So after about the fifth cycle of, ‘I’m terrible, do anything, accompanied by dick squeezes, I just mentally said fuck it and went for it.

“Mrs. Handler, what’s your first name?”

“Huh, ohh, Revkah”

“Revkah what kind of name is that?”

“It’s Hebrew, you could call me Rebecca, that’s the English version.

“OK, I’m going to call you Becky, because you’re at my beck and call, right?”

“Oh yes, yes sir” Now we were back on my track. No more talk, lots of kissing and rubbing. You have to understand, prior to that day the closest I had got to girls were those kissing games at sub teen parties. There were days when I thought my dick would burst like an overcooked sausage, I would get so horny, day or night I would have attacks of desire and today I had leapfrogged all the preliminaries to the big leagues. Tits were my holy grail and here I was, in bed, naked woman, tits in my face, in my mouth, in my hand. Then Jesus threw in a bare ass and a cunt. Truly I was in heaven. Mrs Han ... no Becky was muttering ... no. no ... no ... and I would shut her up with a kiss and a tongue in her mouth. A tongue she responded to; when I went back to sucking on her boobs she would start that ‘no’ refrain again. When I stuck my fingers in her mouth she would dutifully suck them and when I took my fingers from her mouth and went down to her cunt, she at least switched from no to yes! Now all of this was going on with closed eyes. But her pussy was so wet, I had to see what would happen, when my hand left her pussy and rested against her lips she sucked my fingers right in and licked and sucked her own juices with gusto! By now I had kicked off all my clothes and was oh so ready for the second fuck of my life. Damn, it was better than the first! I had time this time to reflect on fucking, before I just came again. What were all those ... pimples ... dimples inside of her all about? I noticed that her insides felt different as I moved, or moved one or the other of her legs. I can’t remember if at that time in my life I knew about dog fashion or it was personal inspiration, hell it might have been Becky’s idea. Suddenly she was on her hands and knees and I was still fucking her pussy. I sure didn’t know that was even possible! Boy, this was a great way to fuck! Seemed I was deeper than before, and I was looking at that great ass, plus I could look down on her on her hands and knees. Somehow that seemed the right position for a woman. And that ass so firm, but so soft. I quickly was fondling and squeezing that ass. Becky was moaning, occasionally saying no, but it sure sounded different from the nos I had heard earlier. It just seemed the natural thing to do so I spanked her, first one cheek and then the other.

“Yes, that’s what I need, correct me, make me obey!” Those words seemed wrenched from her guts. I tried spanking her ass some more, Becky seemed to enjoy it more than I did. My cock, inside a woman, really focused my mind. Soon I had a hand on each hip as I tried to shove my cock out through her mouth. My spread thumbs did expose her asshole and monkey see, monkey want to, I drooled some spit on to her ass crack and slid a finger down to her hole. “NO”now that was a sincere no, but I couldn’t care less. I soon had a finger in her ass up to the first joint. I probably could have gone deeper but my prick was demanding all my attention. I did notice that after that first yelled “no’ Becky seemed to accept her fate, at least as far as my finger and her ass. As I got close to coming again I pulled my finger out of her butt, and got it good and wet in my mouth, (no it didn’t taste that bad) I got my finger back to her asshole about the time I was ready to come. I came, my finger went up her ass as far as I could shove it, Becky screamed, and then she had an orgasm that scared me, at first I thought she might be having a fit, but I don’t think people have seizures and keep saying ‘thank you’. I was still on my knees looking down at Beck’s back, a back lightly covered with sweat, the hair at the back of her neck was all sweaty, I was watching her shoulders heave as she tried to catch her breath. With each breath her shoulder blades and ribs would appear and disappear ... I had a sudden desire to have some sort of whip, belt, something, not so much to hurt her as to mark my ownership. What a turn on! I settled for reaching out and grabbing her ears. I twisted her head to the side so she was sort of looking at me. Now her eyes were open.

“That was wonderful, don’t you worry, I’m going to take good care of you from now on.” She smiled even as my dick softened and slid out of her, I went to lie down next to her but she was too fast for me. Becky was down at my waist, with one hand on my dick, she slowly swallowed my cock, fresh out of her pussy. I thought I had been adventurous when I slipped my fingers in her mouth, but this! This was something we boys only whispered about. I had heard about blow jobs but the consensus among my peers was that only queers or whores did that. Boy were they wrong. To be honest I never even thought of my dick being dirty fresh from her pussy, once again my mind was numbed from massive sensory input. As the years have gone by I have realized that the difference in blowjobs is not so much technique but fervor. When someone loves you the difference in blowjobs boils down to the difference between swallowing and gulping! With true love comes unbridled lust! I was lying on my back, eyes as wide as thy could get. Rebecca’s mouth was as hot as her pussy had been, and that was hard for me to believe as her puss had been searing! In addition to the heat and the moisture her tongue swirling about my cock and her lips moving up and down my dick, I was starting to get hard again!

Becky pulled off and laid next to me. I tried to kiss her. “No, no you don’t have to kiss me, specially right after I suck you!”

“Shut up!” and I pulled her close, when my tongue entered her mouth I could taste my cum and what I was to learn was her juices but I didn’t care. This lady had just fucked me, fucked me hard, twice, made me feel I was a man, this lady had sucked my dick! Without exaggeration, at that moment, I would have killed for her! Any lingering taste disappeared in my love of fucking!

“Will you always hold me like this?”

“That depends on if you always are naked” I joked.

“In the house, yes sir!”, she wasn’t joking. While I was trying to digest what was going on with Becky, my hand wandered down to caress her ass. I got a whispered, “I liked it when you spanked me. If I’m bad, you be sure to correct your gelibte, 2 I guess I should have been asking what all these foreign words were but all I really heard was she liked it when I spanked her! Of course, I slapped her ass with her last comment. “Oh thank you, captain3, my baschizer4! Once again, I didn’t know what she was talking about, but why care, I had a grown, naked woman hugging me! All of a sudden I heard my new lover snoring! I settled in for a long leisurely inventory of Mrs. Handler’s body. Next thing I knew, I woke up at 2 AM with my arm screaming. It hadn’t moved in three hours under Mrs. Handler. She was still sleeping off her drunk and didn’t move as I pulled my arm out. I went to take a leak while the pins and needles took possession of my arm as the circulation returned. If you want to turn a drunk over, start with their ankles; Once you get the ankles crossed leverage forces the rest of the body to follow. The room reeked of whiskey and sex. And I figured, in for a penny, as soon as I had Becky on her back, my ever ready teen prick guided me between her legs. Oh sweetness, she was still wet and slithery, oh shit there truly is nothing as good as first time teenage sex. I was on top of a drunken mourning woman, with matted hair and bad breath from the booze she had drunk, there was a streak of dried saliva running down her chin, from drooling in her sleep and it was fucking great. If I hadn’t been so horny, I might have stopped to get a crowd to watch me fuck. That’s how great I felt. About the fourth stroke, Becky woke up. Women must have some sort of reflex action that they are always saying no at the start of sex. Becky held true to form; before her eyes opened she started the chant, “no, no, no...”