People are like fine porcelain. You can pick them up, touch them, toss them around if you want to take a big chance of hurting them, or simply drop them and watch them break. I guess you could say I'm a prime example of china that got chipped somewhere along the way. It happened back in high school, I'm quite sure. I just can't remember when. I mean there is one of them like me in every high school. You've all heard about them or known someone like them yourself. You know what I am talking about--the girls who will do it with anyone, at any time, in any place. If the whole football team were to line up...well, like I said, you already know the story. What you don't know is that I was one of them.
My name is Janice Ellen Fitzgerald. I'm 26 years old. My reputation got so bad back in Englewood, New Jersey, that my parents moved us all out of town in the middle of my senior year. I didn't care--Easton, Pennsylvania had just as many studs, just as many opportunities to do IT. And do it I did! I can remember nights when I took on six or seven guys in a row, doing anything and everything, and through it all, I knew that what I was doing was absolutely wrong.
I know now that there was nothing I could have done to stop what I was doing. You see, it wasn't really me who was doing it--it was someone named Susan, inside me all the time. You could say it was me watching Susan in a kind of detached, far-out way whenever it happened. Oh, I scolded her enough, even tried to punish her every once in a while, but I knew my efforts were doomed to failure from the beginning.
At least that's what Dr. Rogers told me on that fateful day--April 19, 1988. "Janice," he said with his normal monotone delivery, "you have a disassociative personality."
'Oh no! I'm going to die!' I thought to myself. "Look, Doctor, if you're telling me that I'm crazy then send me to the mental ward."
Dr. Rogers smiled. "Don't be silly. In layman's terms, Janice, you have a "dual" personality. It's as simple as that. In fact, the both of you are quite normal in most every respect. Neither of you can be classified as having any significant mental abnormalities."
Now this was getting really wacky! "Wait just a minute. How about the one of me that has two fucking personalities!!!" I blushed profusely. Janice usually didn't use bad words.
"Easy now. That's what I'm trying to explain to you. There isn't just one of you, Janice. There's you," he paused interminably, before clearing his throat, "and there's Susan."
"You mean I'm two different people?"
"Well, I guess you could put it like that. I have identified two distinct personalities. It is not uncommon in cases such as yours to find that the personalities are diametrically opposed, completely opposite. And what I say to one has absolutely no affect on the other. You are, at times, a person who is happily married, fun-loving, gregarious--whom you know as Janice. She is the person I am speaking to now, who has sought help for her problems. The other person inside you is Susan. Susan is... well, I guess the best way to put it, a slave to sex."
My heart was beating a mile a minute. This was as deep as it gets. "So I'm one person with two minds?"
"I wish it were that simple, Janice. You both share the same body, but that's where the similarity ends. In reality, for all intents and purposes, you are two completely different people. For instance, Susan masturbates frequently. She is involved in what you would term 'kinky' or way-out sex, but feels no remorse for her actions. Just the thought of masturbation or kinkiness is as foreign to you, Janice, as a quiet, romantic night by the fireplace is to her."
"But I remember what I do when I do those crazy things. How come I remember, doctor? Like last week, when Gregory tied me up and spanked me, I remember all that."
He paused for a moment, pondering his answer to my dilemma. "Janice, you think you remember because Susan tells you everything that she does. You are, I guess, her confession booth, if you want to consider a religious analogy to your condition."
"I'm more confused that I ever was," I blurted, then started crying uncontrollably. It was a full 15 minutes before he could calm me down. I went home that night knowing that I was blessed with a curse for which there was no known cure. As the doctor went on to explain, I had no way of knowing when I would become Susan. It would just happen. One minute I might be happily married Janice, struggling to balance a check book or run an errand for Tony, my devoted husband; the next minute I might be the wild-assed Susan, bound to a whipping post, yearning for the sting of a strap or even a whip on my naked butt.
And when I got home, I would tell Janice all about my adventures. She would listen to me, sometimes shaking her head in disbelief, but never, not once, did she ever scold me for what I did. Maybe that's the hardest part to understand. She would only listen, and never talk back. She was understanding, so much so, in fact, that I am sure Susan considered her to be just like a sister. There were only some basic certainties--Janice would always be Janice while in the presence of Tony, my husband, or Julie and Samantha, our two daughters. They were the links with the "normal" world that kept me alive and going. Once I became Susan, which might only be 10% of the time, I would be her until I was sexually fulfilled. As I think back now on my high school years, I can recall living some of my life, especially the purely sexual part, as if I were on the outside looking in. I didn't know, until that fateful day years later, that it was Janice watching, as if there were a one-way mirror in my mind.
There were times when I wouldn't undress in front of Tony fearing he might discover the streaks across my ass, or my swollen, painful nipples only recently unclamped. Our sexual life was good--not great--but it was nice in many respects. When we made love, maybe twice a week, my orgasm was really intense. I would go down on him and he would pleasure me likewise. He never suspected, not in the slightest, that I would step out on him. In reality, Janice never would. She was too deeply committed to her marriage vows and to holding the family together. Adultery, you see, was a sin. Anyone could tell you that...except Susan.
Needless to say, my fear of becoming Susan permeated every moment of my life. I clung to Tony and Julie and Samantha like a baby with a teddy bear, afraid to lose hold. The clinging was what brought me to Dr. Rogers. Tony thought I was too clinging, to the point of being afraid to let go. There were days when I begged him not to go work. Often, I feigned illness to keep him by my side at home. When he was there, I was safe. When he was gone, I felt so vulnerable.
Sometimes, I wish I had never gone to Dr. Rogers. I held a secret inside of me that only he and I could discuss openly, and that secret would have to last a lifetime. Tony would never understand. If he were to have even an inkling of my dual roles in life, our family would be ruined. I trusted the doctor. I told him everything that Susan told me. It was under hypnosis that he brought Susan out. As matters turned out, I wish that he could have somehow locked her inside of me forever.
On the night of April 19, 1988, Tony held me in his arms as we lay in bed and listened to me cry. When he asked me why, knowing I had seen a psychiatrist that afternoon, I told him that I had clung so hard to him because I was afraid of losing the only thing I loved. He said he understood, then held me close to him and kissed my forehead. I turned my body to him, pressing my chest into his.
"I need you so much, Tony," I whispered softly.
"Janice, I need you, too."
"Make love to me, hon."
He lifted the top of my see-through nightie over my back and head as I raised my body off of him, leaving me naked but warm in his arms. He was wearing a pair of boxer shorts. As I moved my chest once more upon, crushing my breasts upon him, I moved my right leg across his thighs and pressed my blond-haired pubis against his naked leg.
When I moved my hand to the outside of his shorts, I found him unerect, but stirring. Stroking the area gently, touching his manhood, I felt him begin to harden. When I lowered the material and exposed him, he gasped softly as I held his slowly awakening member. Kissing him gently on the lips, I masturbated the shaft into almost full erection.
Breaking the kiss, I whispered, "I want to make you feel good first."
I lowered my head and kissed a trail from his hairy chest to his abdomen. Opening my eyes, I looked at the gorgeous cockhead lovingly before taking it ever so slowly, inch by precious inch, into in my hungry mouth, sucking gently all the time. Ever so gently, I suckled him into hardness, then moved my head up and down on the shaft, laving him with swirls of my tongue, listening to his breathing quicken. Having completed my mission, and needing no foreplay myself, I lifted my body up and knelt next to him, looking down at his sweet manhood. Moving slowly, I straddled his hips with my legs, sensing the presence of him between my opened legs. As I lowered my head to kiss him, I moved my sex over his manhood, then took him into me, pressing my loins over his. Ten minutes later, his gasp of breath confirmed what the inside of my vagina was feeling--the spilling of his seed into me in spurt after spurt of delightful come. I didn't desire fulfillment myself that night. His happiness was my joy. I slept peacefully in his arms, secure in the knowledge that he loved me, and all was well.
