{Pendragon}RP"Problems of Utilitarianism"( MF 1st pett oral )[2/3]
Uther Pendragon
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# # # #
THE PROBLEMS OF UTILITARIANISM
by Uther Pendragon
with help from Kitty (Irish...@yahoo.com)
and John Stuart Mill
Continued from Part 1
Part 2:
"Well, there is always my father. He would prefer me a virgin."
"And a virgin, moreover, completely devoid of desire. Is that your
reason for abstinence? That doesn't match the discussion which led to your
coming here."
"No, it does not," she admitted. She liked to think of herself as one
who acted on rational decisions, but she wasn't showing that side of her
today. Suddenly remembering her earlier promise, she moved to his side and
pulled his hand down to her shoulder. "I used to consider myself too
rational, and not emotional enough. Now I'm not sure."
"If it's any consolation," he said, "one can't be entirely rational.
Rationality can provide means, but not ends. First, one must have desires
to be satisfied. Once the brute needs of food, drink, and warmth are
supplied, the ends tend to be the satisfaction of emotional needs. The
rational person meets as many of those ends for oneself and for others as
possible. Now the only question is what are your ends." He gave her a
hug.
"I think that they are incompatible."
"That is close to a description of the human condition. So what are
your preferences, your priorities? Let's stick to this arena."
"You mean: would I prefer to think of myself as moral, or to have the
sort of pleasure that you gave me ten minutes ago?"
"Are those incompatible? I would think not. The moral ideal is to
have the greatest happiness for the greatest number. Certainly, your own
happiness is one part of that. Indeed, the times when any person has it in
his power to multiply happiness on an extended scale, in other words to be
a public benefactor, are exceptional; and on these occasions alone is he
called on to consider public utility. On every other occasion, private
utility, the interest or utility of some few persons, is all he has to
attend to. I was very happy with our actions. If you were, which I have
reason to believe, what other persons were affected?"
"Wouldn't this apply to any clandestine activity? This moves us
perilously close to rationalization."
"Whichever side one takes on moral issues, one risks rationalization.
"As for clandestine activities," he continued, "many of them affect
others even if they are not found out. If we were to plot together to
burglarize a neighbor, then the neighbor would be harmed. So mere secrecy
does not guarantee that an action--even a discussion--will affect only the
participants. Would you like it if I were to tell a confidant that you
were still a virgin?"
"You promised not to discuss this."
"And I certainly shan't. But the point is that you would be damaged
if I did, even if *that* conversation never got back to you. I did use the
subjunctive, after all."
"All right."
"And the other point is that *any* knowledge of one's sex life is an
intrusion into one's privacy. You wouldn't want our latest activities
known far and wide, and you wouldn't want your masturbation known; but you
wouldn't want your virginity known either. It's less a matter of shame
over the particular state of your sex life than your sense of privacy
regarding all of it. And you are not alone. Just because a couple is
married does not mean that they are indifferent to voyeurs.
"That is one reason that I moved back home after a year in the dorms.
I overheard too much."
"That is the other side of the privacy issue," he said. "Not only
does another's knowledge of my sex life invade my privacy, but so does my
knowledge of his. The law punishes both the voyeur and the exhibitionist.
And in that matter, if not in all, the law is perfectly correct."
"It would seem to me that people would seek out more privacy than my
roommates did, though."
"Were any of them rubbing their dates' groins in the public lounges?"
"Heavens no! Not even in the central room of the suite. But I could
*hear* them making love."
"That was probably all the privacy that they could achieve, or at
least all that they could afford. In an earlier day, men weren't allowed
in women's rooms and vice versa. Students did engage in mutual
masturbation in the public lounges. Like your dorm-mates, they substituted
a pretense of privacy for the real thing. Everybody pretended that they
didn't see, as students today pretend that they don't hear. Never assume
that something is not a value to a person just because another thing is a
greater value to her."
She could see where that argument was leading. Her roommates valued
the happiness of the sex act above the pain of being overheard. And, for
that matter, above the pain caused by the embarrassing intrusion of
overhearing two others. If she had been sexually active, would she have
traded the freedom of that dorm room for the privacy of her home? Or would
she have found some way to combine both? Sneaking a boy into her father's
house would have been dishonest, but would she have done it? Whatever the
behavior of her experienced friends, she couldn't imagine beginning her sex
life in either situation.
"I see where you are going," she said.
"Is not that where logic is taking us, given your observations?"
"I suppose so. You did promise me that you wouldn't make an
*emotional* argument."
"I took it that emotion was the essence of your objection. Argument,
in the sense of debate rather than acrimony, was a predictable part of any
discussion with me."
How true. For that matter, any discussion of hers was likely to be
a debate. "It was the only predictable part. Thank you for the rest."
And, truly out of gratitude, she kissed him. The last hour, however,
allowed scant room for kisses of mere gratitude. Her passion rose as his
tongue explored her mouth.
Soon their arms were entangled in an attempt to hold each other in
that clumsy position. He broke the kiss and rose. Before she could
protest his absence, he pulled her up into his arms. In this position, he
needed to bend over to reach her face with his. When he straightened and
pulled her into a tight hug, the feel of his stiffness against her stomach
was a pleasure. She pressed herself against it while he kneaded her
buttocks. After he broke the hug to give her another deep kiss, he led her
down his long hall.
On her way, she wondered if she were going to yield to him.
Everything so far had been fine, indeed luscious. But he seemed to take
her consent for granted, and she hadn't consented. This conflict faded
when he gave her another kiss in his bedroom.
"Sorry for the mess," he said. "I hadn't expected this." The room
was certainly fit for company by dorm standards. Only two books were on
his bed, and the three on the floor were closed and piled neatly. Most of
the books not neatly shelved were on the night stands, and the only
clothing in sight was a bathrobe. It even smelled clean.
When he resumed the kiss, his hands went to the buttons on her blouse.
His mouth followed his hands. He was kneeling in front of her, kissing her
breasts, when her knees sagged. He gently helped her lie down on the bed.
He kissed all of her face before returning to her mouth. Then he
kissed her ear and neck on his way to her breast. With her left breast in
his hand and her right breast in his mouth, he seemed to have reached a
plateau of contentment. At least he made no move to go further until her
own need made her clutch his arm. He raised himself from her breast, which
was *not* what she had wanted, and looked her in the eye. "How do I undo
this skirt," he asked.
This was the critical point. She had been swept past her limits, just
like other girls. It hadn't really taken logic, just a little patience.
Well, she was on the pill; and Mr. Bentham, "Jeremy" she corrected herself,
would never tell. He moved up as she rolled away from him. Then she
reached back. "I'll undo it."
He helped her off with the skirt, and moved to hang it over a chair.
She took advantage of that moment to rise and remove her blouse, which had
become rather wrinkled. Then she rolled the bedclothes down to give them a
clean field of action. At least she hadn't been swept past her limits in
the back seat of a car.
While she was standing there, he kissed the top of her head and hugged
her from behind. His hands swept up her belly to hold her breasts. Then
he helped her back on the bed. Her legs were still over the edge, which
seemed a strange position. Also, he was still fully dressed. But while he
kissed her and stroked her, the sensations of the present were much more
interesting than some mechanics in the future.
His tongue touched hers gently while his hand rubbed up and down her
body. She spread her legs in silent invitation, but he ignored that
gesture for a moment. When his hand did pass downward, it was with his
nails tickling her belly. They combed through the hair on her mound. Then
he clasped her intimately. However much she had desired this, however much
she wanted his caresses there, however much warning his approach had given
her, she also felt modest and timid. She closed her legs, trapping his
hand.
"Darling Jo," he said. "Dearest Johanna." His mouth left hers then,
not down some teasing path but directly onto her left nipple, which had been
aching for it. She sighed and relaxed her legs. At first the licking and
sucking at one breast, the pressure of his chest against the other, the
hand holding her so warmly, satisfied her needs. Soon, they merely
intensified them. His mouth moved to her other breast while his fingers
played over her labia. Never stroking, never still, he lightly touched one
lip, gently pressed the other, and then pushed hard against her mound.
He kissed across the underside of her breast and down her abdomen.
When he finally parted her labia and two fingers stroked inside, she forgot
his mouth entirely. Her hips pushed her mound against his hand, trying to
rub around his fingers harder and faster than he was willing to move.
He was kneeling between her legs. "At last," one part of her mind
said; "but he didn't ask!" another complained. If she was not sure that
she was ready to accept him within her quite yet, she was eager for the
stimulation that entrance would bring; anything to relieve the slowly-
building, teasing, tension. Then she felt his lips on her mound and found
that she had not even considered his actual intent.
Something was wrong with this. "Dirty!" she said, and began to push
him away.
"I brushed my teeth just before your visit," he said. That wasn't
what she had meant. As his tongue touched the apex of her sensitivity,
though, she forgot her objection. When she lifted her hips off the bed to
ease his access, she stiffened. Then fire shot through her.
She was distantly conscious of being in his hands as she trembled in
joy, and trembled, and trembled, and trembled. The tension flowed out of
her into his mouth. When all that tension was gone, he kept sucking and
licking; she kept shuddering and writhing.
When he finally lowered her hips back on the bed, she lay like a rag
doll. The only muscles she could use were those gasping in air. He kissed
thighs and mound and belly. Then he rose and swung her into the bed. He
kissed her forehead as he tucked a sheet around her.
There was a period while she got her breath more nearly under control,
that she couldn't spare any attention for him. Either the lassitude or the
suffusing pleasure would have taken all her attention by itself. When next
she noticed him, he was getting into bed beside her and throwing a
comforter over them both.
She gradually organized her consciousness again while he kissed her
forehead and upper face. She pulled his mouth to hers for a real kiss.
Soon, however, she had to break it to breathe again.
Her left arm was trapped under the covers. "Give me a little space,"
she said. Obediently, he rolled away. She pulled her arm out and rolled
so she was facing him with that arm under her pillow.
She could figure out their positions by this time. For some reason,
they were near the foot of the bed, far from the headboard. She had a
pillow, though. He was under the comforter but on top of the sheet,
dressed in a tee shirt. And what else? When he had kissed her, she had
smelled soap and toothpaste. That reminded her. "You weren't what I meant
was dirty."
"I know, but that would have been a more reasonable worry. Many more
germs reside in the mouth than in the vagina, and the mouth has more
protection against infectious invasions."
"But you washed afterward."
"I found your taste and odor ambrosial," he said, "and intensely
aphrodisiacal. I think that almost any man would have found it the same.
Whether you would is another question. Also, while I find it attractive--
because I find it attractive--I also find it disturbing. Then too, it
satiates the olfactory nerves after a while; one can't have that particular
sensation all the time. I prefer to save it for when it is appropriate."
She had listened to nothing after the word, "odor." "I smell?" Then,
remembering Johnson's distinction, "I have an odor?"
"A delightful one. If humans had the olfactory acuity of dogs, you
would be attracting suitors from miles around. Luckily, we don't.
Actually, it is the basis of your lovely taste. Have you ever noticed that
most of your favorite foods taste like cardboard when you have a bad cold?"
She knew that the nuances of taste were in the nose, and suspected
that he knew that she knew. "Are you trying to change the subject?"
"Well, yes," he admitted. "In our culture, odor is always taken to be
a bad odor. Anyway, you taste delightful. Experience tells me, however,
that you wouldn't if I had a cold. I won't say that it spoils all the
pleasure of the sex act, but it reduces a sensuous delight to mere
rutting." She could suddenly see the point to his diversion. If the sense
of smell was critically important to his enjoyment, then her odor couldn't
be offensive to him. She had, after all, showered that morning.
"Even so, I'm glad that we have lost that acuity of smell."
"Quite right. You wouldn't want passers by in the street knowing that
your vulva smelled particularly erotic. Nor would you want them knowing
when it didn't. We are back to the matter of privacy again."
"I don't know. I can understand what you are saying, I certainly feel
that I want my privacy. But there were a lot of times in my life when I
didn't want my father to know what I was doing..."
"And most of those times you were doing wrong?" he guessed.
"Pretty much. How do you distinguish between what is really in the
interests of privacy and what is really your trying to keep your wrong-
doing secret."
"Let me answer that from an extreme case." She nodded. "Take a case
when a popular boy with what looks like a promising future breaks into a
neighbor's house and trashes it. Having come home to a violated house, the
neighbors aren't particularly mollified to discover that the damage was
done by a kid that they had liked; the parents of the boy, on the other
hand, have their lives destroyed by the revelation that their pride and joy
is a criminal. Is there not more pain than pleasure in revealing the
truth?"
"You make it seem so, yet I would expect the police to reveal it if
they had that knowledge."
"Your instincts worked well on that question," he said, "but your mind
shouldn't have been fooled by my prestidigitation."
"You directed my attention away from the community?" Didn't he mean
something like "prestilinguation"? And that described more than his
speech.
"Yes. There is a fairly good chance that the undetected juvenile
delinquent will repeat his crimes. More to the point, every honest person
has the desire to live in a community where any burglary is solved.
Solving a particular one contributes little pleasure to any particular
person not intimately involved, but it increases the rate of solution. So
any revelation of the identity of burglars increases in small measure the
happiness of a great number of people."
"And revelation of the identity of persons engaging in sex does not?"
"Does it make you particularly happy unless you hold a grudge against
the parties?"
"Not really."
"And so say most of us," he said. "All honest persons have the desire
that burglars be known. Most of us have the desire that sexual activities,
or sexual inactivity for that matter, be secret. Now, if you were eight
rather than eighteen, the general desire would be to have any activity with
another person be known. At your age, however greatly James wishes that
you maintain your purity, he doesn't really want to know whether you have.
The generality of the race merely wishes that their own privacy be
unbreached; that is best served by having everybody's activity in this
arena kept decently secret."
"Call 911 when you see a burglary, and pretend ignorance when you see
a rendezvous?"
"That sounds like a good rule of thumb."
Their heads were about a foot apart. She could see his individual
eyelashes despite her lack of glasses. "I can't believe that I am having
this discussion in bed. It sounds like a seminar."
"You will find, dearest Jo, as you go through life, that people
discuss anything and everything in bed. Poets may call it shrine of
Aphrodite; couples find it is the last chance to discuss mortgage payments
before they drop off to sleep. Anyway, this is the discussion that you
scheduled with me."
"More or less."
"Yes. I tend to digress. From the moment that I kissed you, however,
my motives were suspect. You had grounds for suspecting that my arguments
could be used to justify anything."
"And you showed that they didn't."
"And so, if I show that they justify our having intercourse, that
argument will be more credible, intellectually."
"Is that where this discussion is going? What if I'm not emotionally
ready?"
"Then some young man will reap the benefits of my labor. The total
happiness of mankind will still be increased. Anyway, it seems to me that
we have only covered the intellectual dimension of the morality of what you
had already done. We set ourselves a more difficult task when we scheduled
this appointment."
"There *have* been distractions."
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Well, I'm not. I enjoyed those distractions very much. I suspect
that I owe you some distractions of your own, but ..."
"You don't owe me a thing, except to answer my questions seriously.
That is what you promised. As for the 'distractions,' I enjoyed them as
well. Anyway, the objections to full intercourse that you have raised so
far are that your father would object if he knew, and that commencement
seems to imply continuation. Are there others?"
"Well, somehow, this discussion seems awfully cold-blooded. And it's
*my* body!" This discussion hadn't seemed to acknowledge that.
"Certainly. You decide. We are only discussing the abstract ethical
question. If my comments haven't acknowledged your control, it is because
the level of moral principles must presume that. Of course, I shouldn't
rape you. But we were discussing not what I should do (or not do); we were
discussing what you should do. Which presumes that you are in control.
And I suggest that this level of discussion should be cold-blooded. Or
would you want an emotional argument?"
"Hoist by my own petard, am I?"
"Really, you know," he said, "the ethical question is not whether you
should have intercourse, but whether you should resist having intercourse.
For that matter, should you resist the levels of intimacy that you have
accepted heretofore? When you are on the threshold of crossing your
limits, should your moral convictions lead you to resist? Nothing that I
have said is intended to imply that you should engage in intercourse when
you do not desire to.... Although I could warn you that, having gone this
far, I am in serious medical danger if we do not complete the act."
Continued in Part 3
THE PROBLEMS OF UTILITARIANISM
Uther Pendragon
98/11/30
--
Uther Pendragon anon...@nyx.net
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