{Pendragon}RP "Problems of Utilitarianism" ( MF 1st pett oral )[1/3]
Uther Pendragon
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# # # #
THE PROBLEMS OF UTILITARIANISM
by Uther Pendragon
with help from Kitty (Irish...@yahoo.com)
and John Stuart Mill
Part 1:
Johanna Mill was five foot four and on the pill. When her father saw
the pill case drop from her purse, he blew his top. "How could you?" he
thundered. "Has all the time and effort that I put into your education
gone to waste."
"Hardly. I haven't had sex yet, and you wouldn't have found this out
if my purse hadn't spilled. You are not considering this rationally.
Frankly, I don't expect to have sex any time soon; but I know too many
girls who had unexpected and unprotected sex. I'm not going to risk that
just to preserve your illusions. I haven't needed the pills, but it would
cause both of us a good deal of unhappiness if I needed them and weren't
taking them. I'm an adult now, and I'll make my decisions in a responsible
manner. Don't you trust your years of teaching?"
"I really feel that I should have put more emphasis on sexual ethics."
"Well it is too late now," Johanna said, "unless you have been
instantly converted to the lecture method. I'm not going to discuss my
sexual preferences and desires with my father. It is too embarrassing, not
to mention vaguely incestuous."
"Would you discuss this issue?"
"With you? Not on your life."
"With someone else who could point out the moral consequences of your
decisions," Dr. Mills said. "This is an issue where rationalizing can look
a lot like rationality to the person doing it."
"You mean like a man rationalizing his desire to have his daughter
remain a little girl into some great ethical principle? Look, if you
hadn't engaged in sex, I wouldn't be here arguing about it with you.
"It's not worth discussing" she continued. "If you want me to talk to
a doctor or some woman counselor, I will. I'm your daughter, anyway; if
I'm rationalizing, I'm good enough so that no one but a logician will find
out."
"How about Mr. Bentham? You respect him, I respect him. He isn't a
fond papa hating to see his daughter grow up."
"Talk to Mr. Bentham about sex?"
"Why not? He'll talk about anything. And we both respect his moral
judgment."
The discussion took another two days, and it took another week to make
the appointment. By the time it came, however, both of them were satisfied
with the arrangements.
"Come in Johanna," said Mr. Bentham. "It's nice to see you again.
Now let me get the ground rules straight."
"I talk to you, you give me your guidance. What I say to you is
private. I don't guarantee to follow your advice, and my father won't know
what it is. Neither you nor I tell him anything. On the other hand, both
he and I respect you tremendously. I know that you'll be objective, Dad
knows that you'll not give way to popular culture."
"I can't express how much James' trust gladdens me, but I really would
have expected it. Your's gladdens me all the more because it surprises me.
Well, have a seat and fill me in." She took a chair, and he sat on the
couch opposite her. "You are what now?"
"Almost eighteen."
"Then you'll be graduating soon."
"I graduated last year. From college. I'm in a graduate program in
economics now."
"Oh yes, James' educational program."
"Which makes all of this a little silly. Either the boys won't look
at me because I'm too young, or they look at me with horror because I'm too
bright. Some of them do both. Being short doesn't help either; I look
even younger."
"Dissatisfaction with one's looks is more a matter of being eighteen
than of how one actually looks. I would describe your appearance as
delectable. Are you telling me that a girl as pretty as you isn't asked on
dates?"
"It isn't that bad now. But all three college years were a mess.
Look, a high-school freshman is awkward. Compared to the freshman *boys*,
however, a girl is a social paragon. I should have been going to the
school dance with a boy who hoped I would let him kiss me good night. I
was in college at that age, with boys who wondered if their girls would go
all the way. I was jailbait. Flat-chested jailbait."
"Neither is true any longer."
"Sure. My second year, I blossomed physically. I was already in
class with seniors. They had their relationships all worked out for the
most part, but I hadn't been kissed seriously. I did start going out in
the spring. I dated more men, and had fewer second dates, than any other
girl in my classes. We would have a meal or go to a campus event, park a
while, kiss a while. He would want to go further than I would. After two
or three dates, he would give up and go after another girl."
"And you didn't find that satisfactory? If what you wanted was mild
dates, it seems to me you were having mild dates."
"Well, Mr. Bentham..."
"Jeremy, please. We have known each other for fifteen years, even if
we haven't seen each other often."
"Well, Jeremy, I didn't want to go even as far as I went. But I
wanted to want to go much farther. Does that make any sense?" All he did
was nod. "So I talked to some of the girls, mostly ones who were in
permanent relationships. They were nice. I think that they were happy to
have some arena where they were ahead of me. And, after a while, I
restricted my requests for advice to those who looked happy about their
lives."
"That makes sense."
"What most of them told me was that they had set limits, and then a
boy--not necessarily the one whom they were dating at the time they told me
this--swept them far past their limits. That's when I decided to go on the
pill. If I meet the boy who can sweep me over my limits, I won't get a
baby out of it."
"I can understand your father's being upset, but it seems a quite
rational decision to me."
"That's my problem. I'm too rational."
"How so?"
"No boy is going to sweep me over my limits by whispering in my ear,
nor by telling me how he'll die if we don't have sex, nor even by great
sexual technique. I've lived all my short life by rationality, and I'm not
dropping it now! Even though I sometimes want to."
"But you're unhappy with your present situation?"
"Very much so."
"Tell me. When the boy kisses you, do you enjoy it?"
"Sometimes."
"And when he caresses your breasts?"
"If I let him, I always enjoy it. I don't like to be grabbed."
Sometimes the sensations had surpassed "enjoyed." She recalled the
last date with Howard. Even today, the memory of her ecstasy while he
sucked on her breast dampened her center. And even today, the memory of
why it was the last date dampened her spirits.
"And do you enjoy the next stage? When does your enjoyment stop?"
"I don't enjoy emotional arguments. That is what comes soon after.
I'll be honest with you; sometimes I enjoy being caressed on my legs, even
between them. But when his hand gets that far, we are about to have a
fight about going to bed. And worrying about that spoils all my pleasure."
"Let me try an experiment. Come over here and sit by me." She did as
he asked. "Now, I'm going to give you a kiss. Tell me if a kiss from even
an old man is pleasurable."
He kissed lightly over her mouth and chin before settling in for a
long kiss. She returned it until he broke their juncture. He kissed her
forehead. "Did you enjoy that?" he asked while putting his glasses on the
end table.
She was a little flushed. "Let's repeat the experiment to check the
result." She had enjoyed it, the pleasure of the sensation nearly matched
the compliment of an admired man's attention.
He had to get his chuckles under control before he could. She took
the opportunity to remove her glasses and put them next to his. He kissed
lightly on her lips before slipping his tongue between them. The taste of
his tongue on hers was a renewed thrill. When he withdrew it, it was to
explore the insides of her lips.
When he drew her towards his lap, she rose and followed the silent
directions of his arms. She was surprised, though, to find herself facing
mostly away. He moved her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck, and she
shivered. His mouth moved over that area, kissing, blowing, licking her
skin from the back of her ear, to the nook where her shoulder met her neck,
to the vertebrae. She didn't know where his mouth would land next, but she
became certain that she would enjoy it.
His hand traveled up the inside of her right arm, and then down her
side. He stopped kissing her when he slid it forward. Given a clear
choice, she pulled his hand away and held it in hers. "Father wouldn't
like this," she said.
"Would you enjoy it, though?"
"I think so, but we need to consider his happiness as well."
"I am. Would he wish to believe that you would find pleasure from my
hand, but that you had refused the pleasure?"
"I don't know."
"I think it unlikely," he said. "A sacrifice which does not increase,
or tend to increase, the sum total of happiness, he would count as wasted.
So, he does not wish that you sacrifice the happiness which petting would
bring you; he wishes that you were still a young girl who would find no
happiness in petting at all."
"I think that is close to the mark," she conceded.
"And since that wish is contrafactual, we cannot give him the reality.
By being reasonably discreet, however, we can leave his belief undamaged.
Or, at least, we can leave it as undamaged as it was after he found your
container of pills."
"Is illusion ever a pleasure?"
"Disillusion is often a pain. But I think that concealing the action
is neither more difficult nor more dishonest than concealing the fact that
you would have enjoyed it."
"You are right," she said, and placed his hand on her breast. He
kissed her neck again before moving his hand. They sat like that for a
while: he stroking, nuzzling, licking her ear, hefting her breast, blowing
across her hair, tickling her nipple through blouse and bra. Her feelings
went from pleasant excitement to desire, and then to need.
She pushed his hand away and half rose. Before he could react, she
returned to his lap, facing him as much as the couch would allow. "My
turn!" was all she said. Not bothering to copy his gentle approach, she
drew his head forward and pressed her lips onto his. She waited a moment
after she opened her mouth; but, when his tongue stayed back, she
stretched hers to find it. The kiss was long and dizzying, especially
since she could hardly breathe in that position.
"And when is it my turn again?" he asked when she broke for air.
"It might be better if we both participated."
"So it might," he said. He pecked a kiss on her chin. His hands
caressed her side and back before coming around to find the buttons on her
blouse. He wasn't grabbing. She knew that she could stop him, but did she
want to? Apparently not, since they sat there staring into each other's
eyes until the blouse was undone to her waistband. She pulled it out and
unbuttoned the last button herself.
This time, he held her face in his hands and drew her into his kiss.
He nibbled at her nose for a minute, and brushed her lips with his before
licking them. His fingers played with her ears while his tongue explored
her mouth. He pushed her back gently and gazed into her eyes again before
brushing her blouse off her shoulders. She had to unbutton the cuffs
before she could remove it completely.
While her hands were doing that, she pushed her shoes off and moved
her feet onto the sofa. When they kissed again, she was facing him even
more directly. In that position, she could feel his erection against her
left thigh. She hoped briefly that he wasn't going to press it against her
like an importunate undergraduate. When he had unsnapped her bra, he
cuddled her to him and deepened the kiss. His other hand tickled on her
stomach before it reached her breast. It soon tickled there, as well.
Her left breast was beginning to feel lonely when he broke the kiss
and urged her up. He moved forwards on the couch until she was standing
between his knees. After removing her bra completely, he buried his head
between her breasts and kissed her sternum. After a long period of that
embrace, he kissed both breasts and then kissed a line up her chest and
neck to return to her lips. He rose during that kiss, and ended with a
little peck on her forehead.
Standing, he towered over her. "This will really work better, if you
lie down here," he said. "Where should we put your clothes?" She moved
the blouse from the couch to the end table that didn't hold any eyeglasses.
For an instant, she wondered if he wanted her to take off the rest of her
clothes, and whether she should if he asked. Instead, he helped her lie
down on the couch and gave her a throw-pillow for her head. He knelt on
the floor next to her.
Touching the crown of her head with one hand and her chin with the
other, he moved her head from side to side as he scattered kisses over her
face. He brushed across her eyebrows, and her ear, and her nose before
settling down at her mouth for a serious kiss. While his tongue played
with hers, his hand passed over her arm and torso before settling on her
left breast. This he clasped for a long moment before his finger rose up
to touch her already-turgid nipple. "Oh Jo-jo!" he sighed. It was the
first time that she had heard her baby name in years, but she liked the
sound of it coming from him.
Now her right breast was missing the attention. After a long kiss and
a trail of kisses down her cheek and throat and chest, he finally reached
it with his mouth. The nipple strained for his attention while he licked
lightly over her areola, then slipped gratefully into his warm mouth.
His hand went on another journey while he sucked her nipple and blew
on it and rubbed it between his lips. It went first down her side and her
left leg, then over to her right knee. He broke his play with her nipple.
"Could you rise a little," he said. "I think that your skirt is too
tight." She lifted her hips and pulled the skirt towards her waist. He
pulled the top to tighten the material under her. She thought that ought
to give enough room for his hand, but he said: "Do that again."
When she did, he ignored her skirt to kiss her taut abdomen. She
collapsed down in laughter. "It's not funny," he said. "Your belly looks
adorably sexy when you lift yourself like that." He blew across her
still-shaking navel. Then his kisses strayed upwards, passing her lowest
ribs on his way to the bottom of her breast. Instead of returning to that
nipple, he kissed the bottom of her left breast. By slow degrees, his lips
climbed it until he reached that peak. Only then did his hand begin
stroking upward over her panty-hose. The palm warmed her right thigh as it
approached the juncture, and then his nails lightly tickled her left as he
returned downward. Meanwhile he teased her nipple with tiny licks, light
breath blowing across it, and the gentlest of sucks.
When he finally reached her groin, however, he clasped it while he
sucked the whole top of her breast into his mouth. She gasped at the
thrill that ran through her. He stroked her through panty-hose and panties
while alternately kissing one breast then another. She grew hotter and
hotter until she couldn't keep her hips from moving under his hand.
He made one of his rare excursions to her mouth while clasping her
again. Her movements now provided the friction. "Darling girl," he asked,
"if I promise that we won't have an emotional argument, could I remove
these impediments to my hand?"
If he didn't remove them soon, she would have to do it herself. She
nodded. His erection was obvious when he stood up, but neither of them
mentioned it. He pulled down her panty-hose while she lifted her hips.
Surprisingly, the panties didn't go with them. He whipped the pantyhose
through the air to straighten them out before placing them on her other
clothes. She pushed her panties down to her knees while he was doing that.
He smiled as he removed them the rest of the way. "Touch but don't look.
Is that the rule?"
She had actually been trying to speed the process; but considering it
now, that rule appealed to her. She nodded.
At least he didn't repeat the stroke-up-and-down delay now that she
was open to him. His hand brushed up her thigh once, and then he clasped
the junction again. "Oh, Jo-jo," he said. He kissed her mouth deeply and
then licked each nipple once. "Let me tell you how silken your hair feels.
And the delicacy of the tiny slick edge of your inner lips. I would like
to see their beauty, but I can feel enough beauty to satisfy any man." She
knew that he was feeling it. One finger ran very lightly between her outer
lips and just tickled the sensitive rim of her inner ones. She wanted to
pull his hand against her until he crushed those lips. In place of that,
she pulled his head against her breast. He responded by sucking there, but
his hand still brushed her very lightly.
Finally, he parted her labia and inserted one finger. Starting at the
very back of her valley, he stroked upwards. He paused in the middle and
returned via the sensitive outer edge of her lips. Each stroke moved
slightly higher until she was moving her hips to bring her center of
sensitivity across his finger. This failed of its intent, and the failure
left her in an agony of need. Finally, he sucked hard on her nipple just
as his finger crossed her clitoris. She moaned.
He kissed her mouth briefly but fiercely. Then he moved to her other
breast as his finger resumed its slow strokes. By now the motion of her
hips' was beyond her control. Then they rose and stayed off the couch as
every muscle in her frame tightened. His finger circled her clitoris as
she shook in delight. Then he held her there as she gasped for breath.
"Oh Jo-jo, sweet Jo-jo," he said.
"Just Jo." She could have bitten her tongue. Such a sweet man, such
a sweet moment, and she had to spoil it over a detail of name.
"What?"
"My name is 'Jo' now. Or 'Johanna,' but I'd rather you called me
'Jo.'"
"Then I shall. Lovely, lovely Jo."
"It's I who should be praising you. I never felt like that. It's not
at all so strong when I do it to my..."
"Darling girl! You are blushing. I know that you do it yourself.
Otherwise, you would not be half so responsive to my hand. And I love your
responsiveness. Don't be ashamed. It certainly gave you pleasure; the
results give me pleasure. Who was hurt?"
"I've thought that out for myself. Not the part about you. I'm not
really ashamed of doing it, but having others know about it makes me
ashamed. And then I'm ashamed of being ashamed. And..."
"Well," he said. "If it is any comfort, I enjoyed your blush. Which
might be selfish of me, but maybe you won't be ashamed of being ashamed if
you know that your blushes increase the happiness of at least one other
person."
"If we're going to talk instead of.... If we are just going to talk, I
think it would be better if I got dressed."
"I won't stop you if you insist, but I don't think that we are
finished with our other forms of communication."
"I'm not sure that I want to... I don't think I'm ready yet for..."
"Actual intercourse?"
"Yes. I mean, that is the word that I was looking for."
"Oh? I thought that it was the word that you were avoiding. Dear
girl, you are blushing again." She could feel the blush. It was bad
enough that he could see through her words. Having him see all her skin
was too much. She pushed against his chest, and he let her up. She draped
her blouse across her front.
"Could I go somewhere else to get dressed again?"
"If you insist, but there is much more that we could do without
penetration. I think, in any event, that our *conversation* is not over."
"Compromise," she said and slipped the blouse on. She buttoned it
over her unencumbered breasts. The blouse stuck to her nipples, and she
realized that they were still wet. He looked away when he saw her
embarrassment.
"Another compromise," he said. "I shall not look at you, but I'll sit
like this. He faced forward with his hand stretched across the back of the
couch. "You remember that I would rather have you closer to me. When you
feel comfortable with doing so, move closer."
"I decide how close to sit? Why is that a compromise?"
"Because, dear Johanna, you are an honest person. If you say that you
will do it, you will come as close as feels comfortable, with no false
modesty. Now tell me your objection towards full sexual intercourse. It
can't be pregnancy, is it the fear of disease?"
"That is part of it with some of the boys I date." She wasn't being
as honest as he'd credited her with being. "But not any large part. I
talked with many classmates. Women, I mean. Almost none of them had
stopped sex for very long periods after they had begun. Some did because
they didn't have anyone, some did because they were committed to someone
who was elsewhere, but those talked of the unhappiness of that absence.
It's almost a one-way street. I want to be very careful before I take it."
"Let me see if I understand what you are saying. Is it that most of
your female classmates who have experienced both intercourse and abstention
prefer intercourse?"
That was a marvel of understatement. "Something like that."
"Yet, that very observation could argue in favor of 'taking that
street.' What means are there of determining which is the intensest of two
pleasurable sensations except the general suffrage of those who have
experienced both? What is there to decide whether a particular pleasure is
worth purchasing at the cost of a particular pain, except the feelings and
judgment of the experienced? In this case, the experienced seem to have
voted heavily on one side without persuading you."
"I believe that the intellectual pleasures are higher, if not so
intense."
"And I believe this as well. But are you forced to choose? Some of
the women that you consulted chose the pleasure of loyalty over the more
intense pleasure of intercourse, and I would not try to gainsay them. But
are you gaining that pleasure? To whom does your continence demonstrate
loyalty?"
Continued in Part 2
THE PROBLEMS OF UTILITARIANISM
Uther Pendragon
98/11/30
--
Uther Pendragon anon...@nyx.net
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