Chapter 1

As a clinical psychologist, I develop interventions that change real people in real ways. Current thinking, as indicated by one recent analysis of over 200 studies, is that therapy can change personality traits such as neuroticism. And that’s a trait with higher levels of anxiety and fear that many of my patients exhibit.

I’m just a person, so of course I’m flawed. Both personally and professionally. I’d like to cure every patient, it simply is not possible.

Let’s begin with a failure, one that continues to haunt me. A former patient of mine, a wife and mother, committed suicide. She staged it so that her teenage son would discover her nude body. She wanted to punish him as well as herself.

The police found the medications I had prescribed for her, through a psychiatrist, in unopened vials.

The suicide followed a pattern of increasingly sexual interactions with her son. For the last three months of her life she was fucking him. Of course her son will need therapy for years, maybe for the rest of his life.

I try to keep a loss such as that one in perspective. And it is some consolation to remember the patients I have talked off the ledge.

Moving on.

Certain men, often fathers, have been getting boys laid for decades. Centuries. It is more recently that mothers have become aggressive sexual enablers for their own sons. This literary treatment is a composite story of seven such mothers.

Many observers tend to agree that the Internet was one of the precursors.

At one time pornography was hidden, difficult for kids to get their hands on. Dad’s “Playboy” magazines were a major score. Nudist magazines showed actual pussies.

Then, seemingly overnight, every imaginable type of fucking and sucking was just ... there. Right out in the open. Available to every horny boy with a device.

Digitally clumsy parents were no match for their tech-savvy children. Older brothers and sisters schooled younger siblings. Friends taught friends.

Sexting soon became a thing.

Porn morphed from boys watching adult strangers doing it to kids seeing their pals -- boys and girls -- naked. Nudity, of course, was merely a first step toward actually having sex.

Parents, mothers in particular, had variable reactions. This piece is about those rare mothers who became sexual abettors for their own sons.

As a therapist, one of my specialties is treating both incest victims and incest predators. My intent in this story site is to create a nontechnical but entertaining narrative based on female patients I have treated. And ones my colleague has as well. Between us, ten mothers have been transformed into seven case studies.

It is more common for a boy to have sexual fantasies about his mother than for her to imagine having sex with her son. However the latter does occur.

“Case Studies” is based on real people and events. Yet, to ensure privacy I’ve altered the names, descriptions, and activities of these patients and their sons so much that it could be considered fiction. Fiction, but based on reality.

The following “Case Study” mothers range from mousy to vibrant. Sexual enablers can be aggressive or shy. Attractive or homely. Wealthy or indigent. They share a common trait -- there is either no husband living in the home or he’s mostly an absentee figure.

While my colleague and I do treat incest survivors and current participants, none of these “Case Study” patients is actually fucking her son. Yet.

The seven “Case Study” mothers are

1. Monica S. > A promiscuous 44 year old woman in sexual thrall to her 14 year old son.

2. Alicia M. > A San Francisco socialite who isn’t looking to modify her sexy behavior toward her son.

3. Katie T. > An aging Berkeley hippie who actively watches her son fucking his aunt. Her younger sister.

4. Maggie W. > A single mother with an ill-conceived plan to have her young daughter and son become sexually involved with each other.

5. Cassie P. > A gorgeous corporate wife who is slowly escalating the sexual interaction with her son.

6. Juanita M. > A 37 year old Latina whose son is a chronic masturbator. In front of her.

7. Annie G. > An aspiring actress who is willing to use her body and her young son to further both of their careers.

One thing to remember -- each of these women is doing something illegal. Incest of course. But I’m more concerned about child abuse. I tell my patients I will report them if I believe their behavior escalates from what they perceive as fun and games to abuse. It’s a judgement call on my part and often not an easy one to make.

Case Study # 1: Monica S.

Monica was born and raised in Dayton Ohio. Graduated from Ohio State with a major in economics. Worked for a bank in downtown Columbus. In analysis, she told me, “I was following my father. He studied accounting. Became a CPA.”

Monica decided to change her self-described boring life. She was 27 and single when she loaded her belongings into a rental truck and headed west for Berkeley. She entered grad school with a major in Theater & Performance Studies. About as far from numbers as she could get.

California wasn’t Ohio and Berkeley wasn’t Columbus. Monica had found her milieu.

The Bay Area was everything Monica had dreamed it would be. Attitudes were liberal, dope was plentiful, sex was open. Freedom was in the air.

Monica had had sex with two boys and two men in Ohio. Her first year in Berkeley, she fucked seven college students and one 14 year old boy. The boy lived in the downstairs unit of the duplex where she rented her apartment from his mother.

Monica was Midwestern pretty. A round, open, often smiling face ringed with curly brown hair. She was constantly fighting to lose five to ten pounds which she said settled in her hips and thighs.

At 5’ 5” Monica was full-figured and worried that her left breast was slightly larger than her right one. She never quite became the California girl of her dreams, but she was conventionally attractive. With a bright, bubbly personality.

Her wildest sexual escapade in her early Berkeley days was when a classmate talked her into a threesome with his roommate. She loved the hunger in the two 22-year old boys and threw herself enthusiastically into the ménage. This was more like it!

Monica told me, “I was determined to become my idea of an independent California girl. I had anal with them for my first time. I did everything they wanted in bed. After a couple of months they liked to keep me naked when their friends dropped by. And I let them. From then on I was constantly getting felt up. Girls as well as boys. I loved the attention, simply loved it. We smoked dope all the time. Laughed a lot. And it wasn’t just the grass, I was high on life, my life. I loved the new me.”

She served her friends drinks and snacks in the nude. Wore only an apron as she cooked for the two roommates and their guests. At the boys’ behest she got her first ever full Brazilian and was thrilled whenever a guest’s hand strayed between her thighs. “I giggled a lot, but some of them knew how to get my motor purring. A couple of girls in particular.”

Monica’s growing dependency on those two boys emerged long before she entered therapy with me. Her distant father had never provided much direction, nor emotional support. Her mother had been a quiet housewife who rarely voiced an original opinion. Over time those two 22 year old Berkeley students sensed Monica’s subservience and exploited it. My guess would be probably just because they could. That and they didn’t care for her as much as she did for them. Once they realized she would do anything sexually to please them, they began losing any respect they might have had earlier in the relationship.

Monica was then 28 years old and more or less in love with the two boys. “I wanted to keep them happy and that meant mostly in bed. I gave them whatever they asked for and I loved doing it.” To be fair to the boys, Monica herself enjoyed the almost daily sex the three of them had.

“Then it happened so gradually. A neighbor, Dave, had been dumped by his girlfriend. He’s a good guy. We were all high that morning, I remember how sunny it was. Springtime. It just made sense to me when Jimmy said to give Dave a blowjob. Smitty smiled at me and nodded.”

Within months, Monica had become what she called a ‘very popular girl.’ Her two boyfriends passed her around and the circle of acquaintances who fucked her grew larger. “I never told anyone no. It wouldn’t have been cool, wouldn’t have been me. The Ohio girl would have said no to some of them. Not the new California girl. I felt like a party girl and I liked that feeling. We were all friends, all high. It just happened. Besides I liked sex, liked the feeling of freedom. It was nothing like back home.”

Monica dropped out of school and took a job as a barista. Then a second job as a bookkeeper. Throughout this sexually active period in her life she never lost her Midwestern sensibility. She didn’t run up debt, didn’t fall behind on her rent. Smoked dope, but didn’t become hooked on anything. Made sure all those guys used condoms. Including the 14 year old boy.

“Yeah, looking back I guess I was pussy. Anybody’s fuck. But it didn’t feel slutty to me. Or I didn’t think it did. I guess I probably didn’t even think about it, I don’t know. I like sex. I wasn’t going to become my mother. Oh, some of them had me eat their girlfriends too. Why not? I was a carefree California girl.”

Monica had never been with another girl until she moved to California.

Looking back on her early, sexually indiscriminate days, she said, “I felt more popular than I ever had in my life. It was sex, of course, I realized that even back then. But it was more than just that, I’m pretty sure. Boys liked to hang out with me. Girls too.”

Did a day go by without sex? “Oh, maybe if I had the flu real bad. But there were several guys who fucked me when I had my period. And that didn’t matter to the girls I was eating.”

She did start fucking the 14-year old boy before she became promiscuous. Monica was proud of that. “Craig was so hungry for me. And shy. His mother worked nights at the Chronicle. I just seduced him. Easy.”

That affair continued for three years, well into her licentious period. “Even Craig figured out he could share me with his little buddies. I never turned anyone down. You should see how much I spent on rubbers for those boys. They’d clomp upstairs after school, six or seven of them. Do me two or three times each. His mother knew about me by then. Rosie.”

The mother’s awareness, and seeming acceptance, was important to Monica.

“She didn’t mind, Rosie, she was still friendly. We drank coffee, smoked pot some weekends. Rosie didn’t look down on me. Never said a word about me fucking her son. Even when he and a couple of buddies spent the night upstairs. Not on school nights though.”

Monica referred to Craig’s mother, her acceptance of Monica, several times. She was using Rosie’s acquiescence to try to convince herself that her promiscuity was normal. Or at least within shouting distance of normal.

By Monica’s account she and Rosie did have sort of a loose friendship. Monica always paid her rent on time, kept up the apartment. After school Craig and his buddies would fuck Monica as much as they wanted. Then they would go downstairs and Rosie would feed them snacks.

Monica said, “I always made the boys shower, I didn’t want them smelling like pussy at Rosie’s.”

Monica giggled a lot. “Just imagine six horny little boys scoring their first pussy. All hard, all erect, all impatient for another turn. No finesse of course, no technique. Little jackrabbits. But so hungry for me. Every time I opened my eyes there were two or three of them, hard as a rock. So eager to have another go.”

Did Rosie ever discuss her son’s sex life? Monica said, “She never said a word. But I had the impression she was sort of proud that he was scoring grownup pussy.”

By her own account, six or seven teenagers fucked her after school, usually taking a second turn. Some of them did her three times. She was a little defensive, “It sounds like more sex than it was. I mean a lot of the boys didn’t last even a minute. They usually did better the second time around.”

A little defensive, but a little proud too. “It was a turn-on for me, looking at six or seven naked boys stroking themselves, so eager to get at me.”

So Monica, when she wasn’t working, was fucking her college friends in the morning and again after dinner. Her after school hours were reserved for Craig and his friends, aged 13 or 14 up to 17 or 18. “Sometimes Craig let some younger boys fuck me too. Because they were virgins. I felt like I was doing a good deed or something. Like those boys earned a Merit Badge.”

Monica didn’t keep a diary of her early years in California, but estimated the number of men and boys who had fucked her. “Over 50, definitely. But probably under 100. Maybe.”

She went through a period where two college sophomores, both lesbians, brought Monica to their apartment to live. “For three or four months. Maybe a little little longer. They had me come straight home from work every day. Their friends all knew my schedule.”

Monica had some pride in her voice. “I never fooled around with another girl in Ohio, not once. Now I’m licking pussy, one girl after another. They weren’t all lesbians either. Some girls brought their boyfriends over to watch. A couple of them brought husbands.”

“Did you have sex with any of the men there?”

“Oh no. The lesbians wouldn’t have allowed that. Only pussy. Sometimes they let me go home for those after school boys.”

From Monica’s description the two lesbians had picked up on her subservience just as Jimmy and Smitty had. She was licking girl after girl without demur. She remembered one high school girl who was merely curious to see what oral sex was like. And that girl later brought her younger sister and her sister’s best friend. Two middle school girls.

“Hey, it was Berkeley. Back then I didn’t care how young they were. Anyway they liked it. Loved it.”

“Were they the youngest ones you had sex with?”

Monica blushed and didn’t answer. I’ll circle back to the subject in a later session, but my impression was that she was involved with even younger kids.

Monica met her future husband, Will, at a Hockney exhibit at the de Young in Golden Gate Park on a Sunday. “It was rainy, a good day to be inside. The lesbians had gone up to Tahoe so I was free to go wherever I wanted.”

When Will invited her to coffee, some instinct told Monica to play it slowly. Will was older, 36, nice enough looking. A great smile. Tall. The type of man she would have gladly taken to bed.

“He was different from all those college boys. More relaxed about getting me in bed. Not so hungry. And nothing at all like the high school and middle school boys.”

Will lived in San Francisco, owned a two-bedroom apartment in the Marina. Upstairs just like Monica. Because he lived in the City, he seemed even more special to her. Special and comparatively mature. She was able to hold off until their fourth date before going to bed with him.

“Now Will is a good guy. Great guy. But in bed? About average. Average size, average ability. I mean he got me off. But no skyrockets were going off. So I went back to Berkeley when he was at work.”

Fast forward six months. Monica was 30 and pregnant. Pregnant on purpose. Living full time with Will, she’d stopped using birth control and fucked him whenever he was in the mood. He was a CPA but, “Will wasn’t anything like Daddy. Will had a playful way. He was a dreamer.”

Monica is about 90% sure that Will is the father of her son. “Almost of the Berkeley guys wore rubbers. Even the little virgins.”

Will and Monica married at City Hall. His younger brother Andy was the witness. Monica’s parents were pleased, they’d given up on grandchildren. Although they would have preferred to have met her husband ahead of the ceremony.

Fast forward again. Monica’s son, Carter, was 10. Monica, 40, was a stay at home Marina housewife.

Monica said, “I still loved Will. But, I don’t know. Boredom. Berkeley memories.”

When Carter was old enough for a baby seat, Monica began crossing the Bay Bridge to meet her former friends. She didn’t rationalize it, “I like sex. I like the attention.”

She juggled her Berkeley sex life with diapers, formula, nap times, bathing Carter. She wasn’t as active as she had been in her 20s, but, “I was fucking two or three boys a day. Then I ran into one of the lesbians, so she had me doing girls again.”

None of the girls reciprocated, “But I didn’t mind, not really. She let me play with myself so I was getting off. Usually.”

Monica also began fondling Carter. This is more prevalent than many people realize. It can be a temporary curiosity. Can I get him erect? Yes, I can, how cute. It could be for the fun of it. It could be a rare treat, or perhaps a soothing mechanism. An experiment. A walk on the naughty side. A giggle with a girlfriend. Or, like with Monica, a constant. A need.

Once her son was out of diapers she liked to keep him naked. Will was amused but didn’t see any harm in it.

At first Monica limited her penis play to bath times. Then added bedtimes after Will had said his goodnight to his son. Again, she didn’t rationalize, didn’t claim her son slept better, that it was for his own good. “His little cock was so perfect. I loved kissing it.”

Monica maintained her lifestyle pattern, still going to the East Bay for sex. When Carter wasn’t in school, she took him with her. “Somebody in Berkeley watched over him while I was having sex. I don’t think he saw me in action. Or not very many times.”

Fast forward a third time.

Monica is now 44, her son 14. This was the year she entered therapy with me.