Chapter 1

CDC REPORT -- November 2, 1973

Gynecologic practices have identified a worrying syndrome that seems to be increasing very rapidly. A woman of reproductive age experiences itching and burning in the reproductive tract, though not highly localized. In more advanced cases, there are also shooting pains. There are no visible or detectable tissue abnormalities. Symptoms gradually worsen over the course of time. Since the first symptoms of identified cases started only eight weeks ago, there is no data as to its future course.

The syndrome is not sexually transmitted, as those who are not sexually active contract the syndrome at the same rate as those who are. It appears to be highly contagious and spread by aerosol, with symptoms appearing only weeks after exposure. It seems likely that girls, elderly women and males of all ages also are vectors of transmission, although there are no known symptoms among those groups. This transmission pattern implies there is no hope of controlling this through quarantine, since it has spread to virtually every corner of the globe already due to air travel.

In a few cases symptoms have disappeared. This happens very rapidly, and the trigger for such remission is under intense investigation. Preliminary results are that the trigger is an act of sexual intercourse, though not all such acts cause remission of symptoms.

The syndrome has been given the initial designation, “Pelvic Pain, Other, 1973”. However, since this is awkward, it is known colloquially as “Big Female Trouble”, or BFT, despite this not being an accurate description in scientific terms.

Margaret and Peter hadn’t done it in a couple years. As they settled beside each other in bed, she said, “You know how I’ve been having this BFT thing.”

“Yeah, so sorry,” he said, absentmindedly.

“Did you hear the latest idea for a cure?”

“No.”

“Sex. If the woman has sex sometimes it goes away.”

“Really? Hmmmm.”

“And it’s got to be ‘risky’. No condom or diaphragm. No hormonal contraceptives. The guy can’t pull out at the end.” For years they had used the diaphragm method. After some foreplay, when she was warmed up some, she stopped to slide the thing up inside. She had never liked the interruption, and he had liked it even less. “I’m 48. My periods come and go. I’m willing to be risky.”

This brought a small smile to Peter’s face. He started in on the routine their sex had had in recent years. Turning her on, bit by bit, with his fingers. After several minutes she gave him the signal, and he turned over and slowly slid his dick in. She paused to be thankful that his dick still always got hard when he was interested. This was not always true of her friends’ husbands. He now started in on that motion that made her excitement grow. It had been requiring more work as the years went by for her to get off that way, and now there had been a couple years of zero sex too. And the discomfort in her pelvis with the BFT didn’t help the mood, though Peter’s thrusting penis itself did not make it worse or better. So after a bit she said, “You just go ahead and finish up. I want you to have a good time.” Peter picked up the pace, and in a minute she felt him shudder as he delivered his sperm up inside. That was the main thing she had wanted.

She thanked him and they snuggled a bit. Having been used for the first time in a long time, her vagina itself felt a bit stretched and raw, but that was a familiar feeling and it would quickly pass. But after a while she realized that when it came to the itching and burning, she was just as uncomfortable as before down there. As a medical treatment for BFT, sex with her husband hadn’t worked.

Margaret and Peter had sex the next two nights too. No effect. The third morning, Peter sat next to Margaret on the couch. He said, “I read up on those stories about sex curing the problem, and looked into the detail more. In order for sex to work to treat your condition, the guy has to really, really want it. Guys in their 20s work best, they say. Maybe I’m too old to qualify any more.”

Margaret loved Peter and certainly didn’t want him to reach that conclusion! “What I read is that you never know for sure what guy will work with what woman, so you may have to try a few different ones.” She didn’t want to find out whether the problem was that Peter just didn’t desire her very much any more. If it was true, she didn’t want to know. She didn’t desire him that much any more either, but it was different with women. Women were allowed to lose interest as they got near menopause. Men weren’t supposed to. “Maybe you’ll match up with some other woman and be able to treat her successfully.”

Peter looked at her, giving no indication of taking that possibility seriously. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. In any case, you have to do it with younger guys to treat your condition. Or at least other guys. I really hope you find someone soon to help you. Just spare me the details.”

“Of course, of course, Peter,” said Margaret, reaching out to pat his knee. “We ought to do it more too, though. It’s been very nice these past few nights. We shouldn’t have let years go by without doing it.” She certainly didn’t want him to think she was turning his back on him.

“I agree, we should find a way to make it so we’re both in the mood at the same time. I’ve read there are suggestions for how to do that...” Somehow, they never got around to it.

Eleanor was Margaret’s niece, and they later shared their stories at a family gathering.

Robin was Eleanor’s lesbian partner, and they were pretty good friends with David and Carl, a gay male couple.

When the four were having dinner together, Eleanor had mentioned to them that she was getting BFT. She was just sharing the info. But she was kind of hoping one of the men might make the connection and at least consider volunteering for the one known treatment.

Eleanor went over to David and Carl’s place a couple days later to drop something off. David said, “I heard what you said and realized you might want some help with treatment. Not something Robin can help you with. You have any guys in mind to do it to you?”

“Um, no, can’t say I do. But I know you’re gay for a reason. Pussies gross you out, probably.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that. I’ve done it with women. It’s not exactly a turn on, but the physics works. Friction is enough to do the job, kind of.”

“Oh, sex shouldn’t be like that.” Like most lesbians, she’d tried doing it with men when she was just beginning her sexual journey. But she hadn’t really liked it. She realized she kind of liked the dick -- she and Robin used strap-ons. But she didn’t like who the dick had been sticking out of. The wrong kind of person.

“Oh, I know, I know ... Not normally, but this is special. The theory is you need a penis up there, that’s one thing I actually do have. If you have a better offer, by all means take it! But if not...”

Eleanor bit her lip. The two were alone in David and Carl’s apartment, sitting at the kitchen table. The burning and itching were driving her crazy. She squirmed.

“You want it, like, now?” said David softly.

Eleanor looked down and nodded. “You need Carl’s permission?” she said.

David chuckled softly. “No. We can do it with other guys, and a girl is even less of a threat, if you get my meaning.”

Eleanor did. David led her into the bedroom. She figured pulling off her jeans and panties was enough. She didn’t especially want to show him her ample breasts, and he almost certainly didn’t want to see them either. She lay back with legs spread wide, and rubbed herself enough to get lubricated. David sat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking his cock. She got just quick glances of it as he got up and turned the light off. It was dark out, being late afternoon in winter.

“They say quick is fine, right?” said David.

“I think so, yeah!” said Eleanor. She could only see a gray outline, but she felt his warmth above her, then felt his dick against her leg. She took it gently and aimed it at just the right place.

It slid in. David was silent as he thrust. It was pretty much the same as when she had tried it years before. A dick was pumping in and out of her. But in under a minute he groaned and relaxed. He must have come, though she wasn’t experienced enough to be sure. But then he pulled out and sat on the bed next to her.

“Girls don’t like quickies, they say,” he said.

“A quicky is fine in a case like this,” said Eleanor. “Thank you very much.”

“Can you see yourself out?” he said.

“Of course,” said Eleanor. It seemed a bit abrupt. She didn’t expect him to find her sexy or anything, and she was happy to leave quickly to accommodate any mixed feelings he might have, since he was doing her a favor.

It was only when she was closing the door behind her that she realized she felt just as bad down there with the itching and burning as before. Damn BFT. Things were a little different inside her vagina because of the physical act, but those were minor changes. The discomfort was as bad as ever. Arrggghh!

Margaret knew June from college, and they had kept in touch. June had a daughter in her 20s who was launched in life, and a son John, who had just graduated from high school, and not sure what he would do next.

But something new and exciting was eclipsing those questions about his long-term plans. He had heard that there were sexy women who needed to get fucked. A quickie was good enough. In fact, it was best. What mattered most was that the guy really want to do it to her. Well, like lots of young men, John really wanted to do it with half the women he met. More than half. There seemed no downside to this.

The problem was how to get connected with the girls.

Then his mother June knocked on his bedroom door and let herself in. “I, uh ... this is embarrassing, so bear with me. You’ve heard of this BFT thing -- big female trouble?”

“Yeah,” said John.

“They say young men like you are especially good at curing it. Would you have any interest in giving it a try?”

John shrugged, feigning indifference. “Guess so.”

“I’m afraid the woman I have in mind is not young and gorgeous ... she’s more my age. But they say some boys would consider it.” She then showed him three pictures. One was her face, the second was standing from the side, and the third was standing from the front, all fully clothed of course. She was no beauty. She was old -- forty-eight his mother said. But there were her boobs, and there were her hips and his cock started glowing in his pants as he thought ahead to what she would look like when she pulled her panties down. She would have hair, and a slit, and a pussy.

“It would be a favor to her?” said John evenly.

“Yeah. And if you don’t want to, by all means don’t! But I could arrange a meeting, and neither of you has to tell me what if anything happened.”

“I’ll do it. And I’m interested. I admit it.” John was a virgin, though he didn’t need to discuss that with his mother.

“Very well,” was all his mother said as she left, but John could see she was pleased.

They all lived in the New Jersey suburbs west of Manhattan, more specifically in and around Teaneck, New Jersey, so it was easy enough to drive among their houses.

As Margaret reached for the doorbell, she had a surge of anxiety. She had only had two sexual partners so far in life, one before she met Peter. It had been decades since she had done it with a man for the first time.

“Oh, hello,” said her friend June when she answered the door. June shrugged and said, “Well, this is awkward. But John’s room is the second one on the left. She pointed down a corridor.

The door was open a crack, and when she knocked a nervous boy invited her in and closed the door behind her.