My erotic education began when I was thirteen and my lovely and precocious cousin introduced me to the forbidden delights of carnal love ... .
By the time I was forty, I knew I was destined to be an insatiable roue, a veritable rascal who would seek out strange girls-and always young girls-no matter where. My throbbing engine had no conscience, and even at the moment of my greatest sexual satisfaction and exhaustion, my yearnings continued, expanded, reached out for more and more and more....
It was only natural, then, that I should eventually begin to think of my own daughter in a sexual way ... !
YEARNINGS BOOK ONE: THE BOY
CHAPTER ONE
The country air was sweet and clear, and the brilliant sunshine warmed my bare head as the carriage swept along the flat, sandy lane and came out on the tiny knoll from where we could see my aunt's house on the bill. It was so long ago, and as I look back on that day when, as a happy and carefree twelve-year-old, I arrived at Chesterton Manor to begin what I had thought was to be a summer vacation. I shudder at my own naivete, and marvel at the vast number of things that have happened to me since.
How many times have I said to myself, "I wish I had known then what I know today!" How much more of a pleasure it would have been if I had been prepared for the onslaught of desire from my fourteen-year-old cousin, Althea. Not only did I arrive at Chesterton Manor with the full innocence of childhood and live the experiences there through a kind of numb sense of shock, but I received an indoctrination into what was to me a totally new world-and what was to become a virtual way of life.
I am certain that other men have had similar experiences, but I find it difficult to believe that very many others have had their destinies so shaped and formed and prescribed for them as have I from that first blowing shock of life from my wicked and delightful cousin. Far from feeling guilty for my way of life, I count it a blessing and have many times thanked my mother and father for getting a divorce at that particular time and for packing me off to Chesterton, in the southern part of England. But for their marital troubles and my necessary and forced exposure to Althea, I might have lived a fairly ordinary life, never knowing the delights I have known and learned to love.
The first impression I received of Althea was when the train had arrived at Windham Station and had been met in the carriage by my aunt.
"Where's cousin Althea?" I had asked innocently.
Her face darkened, and she frowned.
"Althea was naughty," she said. "I made her stay home to pay penance."
I had no idea what Althea had done, and since Aunt Lois apparently did not wish to discuss the matter further, I forgot the incident and climbed into the carriage.
The two white horses trotted across the lush countryside, stirring up plumes of yellow dust as the carriage jogged along and we approached the great white mansion.
At the house, Aunt Lois took me directly to my room, passing by the closed drawing room where I imagined Althea would be, moping, possibly pouting, as a result of her punishment. She left me while I unpacked my two large wicker suitcases, leaving the door ajar. Within minutes, I heard voices and so put my ear to the crack in the door.
"Are you certain you have been in the house all the time I was gone?" I heard Aunt Lois say.
"Yes, Mother," Althea said. "And I haven't ... I haven't done ... that any more either."
"I should hope not!" Aunt Lois said with a snort of indignation. "Pull up your panties, child. I've decided not to spank you this time. If it happens again, I think I shall get a bundle of switches from the orchard and light into you, though."
"Yes, ma'am"
When my aunt returned to my room, I busied myself with stuffing my things into drawers. She inspected the clothing my mother had sent with me and shook her head.
"I'm afraid it will be far to hot for those heavy cotton underpants," she said. I flushed red from the mention of my unmentionables. "We'll have to get you some cooler ones from the village. Meanwhile, take off your trousers and undershorts."
She left the room, and I hesitated in following out her orders. After she had gone, though, I slid the trousers down and was stepping from my heavy drawers, when she returned with a brief piece of pink silk in her hands. I drew up my undershorts quickly.
"Take them off, Louis," she said, smiling at my obvious embarrassment. "You shall wear a pair of Althea's panties until we can get some cool drawers for you. They don't have a fly, so you'll have to pull them down when you tinkle. But at least you shall be far cooler."
I was a brilliant red by the time she finished talking and pressed the slippery garment into my hand. I stared at the pink panties and averted my eyes from my aunt's. She laughed.
"I don't mean to embarrass you, Louis," she said, pressing my hand. "I forget that you aren't an infant any more. Neither is Althea, I suppose. But neither of you are grown up, and you shouldn't be embarrassed by your auntie seeing you in the nude or discussing panties and underpants and such. Take off your shorts, now, and put these on. Hurry and come downstairs-tea is waiting."
When she left, I kept staring at the silk panties. Then, fearful that I would hold up tea too long (and knowing that afternoon tea in the English countryside is something nobody delays), I slid out of my shorts and drew on the slippery panties. The silk was so smooth and cool and soft that the material, plus the realization that they were a girl's panties, caused my tool to begin to erect. It took very little for the silly thing to leap into a strange rigidness, but I had never yet been able to completely satisfy the wonderful feelings that always accompanied an erection. I had tried many times, though.
Thankfully, my trousers covered the bulge in my crotch, and the panties held my erect animal close to my stomach, where it could not be observed.
As I went down the wide, graceful staircase to the large parlor, the scene in the big room stopped me in my tracks. There, standing in the center of the room with her back to me, was Althea. Off to one side of her was Aunt Lois. She was fitting a dress to my cousin and was kneeling with an array of pins held between her pressed lips. What caused me to stop and gasp, though, was the position of the dress on Althea-it was pulled up in back, and her buttocks, shining and full under her white panties, were in full exposure.
I stood for a long time near the foot of the staircase, staring at my cousin's full and shapely buttocks, feeling my penis throb once again to full erection. Although I had caught occasional glimpses of girls' buttocks, especially on windy days, this was my first sustained look at them, and I was positively enthralled. The tight panties seemed to be sucked right up into the cleavage of her buttocks, and it was almost like seeing her naked.
My pleasure turned to panic when my aunt saw me and turned.
"What's wrong, Louis? Haven't you ever seen a girl in her panties before?"
Althea turned quickly and smiled brightly at me. I couldn't lie in front of her-besides, for some strange reason, I wanted her to think I was older than I really was.
"Of course, but..."
"But what?"
"I was just surprised at how big Althea is. I mean..."
"Such cheek," Aunt Lois said good-humoredly. "Aren't you going to kiss your cousin hello, Althea?"
Althea broke away from the pins and trappings of the fitted dress and came running toward me in her panties and brassiere. I was shocked at the size of her bosom. The last time I had seen her, she had been as flat-chested as I. She bounced into my arms and planted a wet kiss directly on my lips. Her firm breasts pressed into me, and I knew that my rigid tool was exerting a similar pressure into her groin. After the kiss, she leaned back and looked at me with a strange expression. She pushed harder with her bottom and rubbed almost imperceptibly against the hardness of my pecker. The feeling was not new to me, but it was more intense than it had ever been-even more intense than the time I had stood on a table in the hallway and looked over the transom at my mother and father making love in the bedroom.
Then, it had been mere vicarious sexual pleasure; now, with Althea pressed against my hard cork, I felt yearnings that I had never known existed. And I had never been kissed that way before. There had been something disturbing as well as pleasant about the way she had pressed her wet lips against mine and fleetingly stabbed her tongue into my mouth. As Althea let go of me and backed away, she dropped her hand and, either by design or by accident, brushed it against my crotch. I jerked noticeably and turned red again.
"How are you, Louis Appleby?" she said with a wink and another swipe at my throbbing tool. "I'm sorry about poor Uncle Jackson and Auntie May, but I'm glad you'll be staying with us for the summer."
"Thank you. So am I."
"Come on back here, Althea," Aunt Lois said through her mouthful of pins. "Even though Louis is just a boy, you are half naked, you know, and one of the servants might walk in. Let's get you back into your own clothes and have tea."
We adjourned to the dining room for tea, and Althea, when she was properly dressed, came in and plopped directly down in the chair beside me. She deliberately moved the chair close and pressed her thigh against mine. I had not yet lost my erection-I think the smooth silk of the panties helped keep him aroused-and the touch of her flesh against me caused the poor devil to stiffen into a condition that was almost painful. Her stockinged feet probed mine, and one foot began to slide up and down my leg, caressing it. Aunt Lois was talking about the things we would do during the long summer ahead, but the sensations caused by Althea's feet on my legs kept me from hearing what she was saying. Finally, the talk turned to the dress she had been fitting on my cousin.
"It just doesn't hang right," Althea said. "I don't like a dress that doesn't hang right."
"I know," Aunt Lois agreed. "We'll have to get you a different style of brassiere. I think it shall be perfect then."
Althea flashed a superbly evil grin at me when Aunt Lois mentioned the word "brassiere." She seemed to take great delight in keeping me in a high state of excitement.
"My bubbies are getting so large," Althea said, faking a pout, "that nothing hangs right on me. I don't think another brassiere will do the job."
"Of course it will," Aunt Lois said. "I have the same trouble, you know. You're still wearing those little-girl brassieres, my dear. For a dress like this, you'll need one of the strapless kind. It will do the job."
"Then my bubbies will show at the top," Althea said, looking sidelong at me. "And all the men will stare at me."
Aunt Lois laughed. When she laughed, her entire body shook and her great breasts jiggled. I had never thought of her sexually, but in my aroused state, the sight of her jiggling breasts served to increase the pitch of my excitement.
"They might look at you, dear," Aunt Lois said, "but I am certain it will be only to admire your youthful beauty. Don't worry about it and don't take it in the wrong way."
I sipped my hot tea and munched absently at the crumpet as Althea's foot keep rubbing my leg. I wished they would stop talking about titties and brassieres and men looking at Althea. I had never been so aroused, and I had no idea what might happen if they did not change the subject. But the situation was not to ease up-it was to heighten.
As Althea and Aunt Lois continued their discussion of a proper brassiere-even to detailed descriptions of one recently purchased by my aunt from Madame Bouvoir in the village-I noticed that Althea had dropped her hand to the chair between us. She looked straight at her mother as she talked and listened, but the hand crept across my thigh and came to rest on the hard, rigid length of my aching stanchion.
"I don't know if I made the right choice or not," my aunt was saying. "Madame Bouvoir talked me into getting the thing. I haven't tried it, but I am wondering if it will provide the proper uplift and support. To support her argument, the good ma-dame even took off her blouse to show me that she was wearing an identical brassiere to the one she wanted me to buy. Of course, her breasts aren't half as big as mine, so I don't know what she proved. She proved one thing-I bought the brassiere and I'm dying to try it on."
"Why don't you, Mother?" Althea said. "Why don't we all go up to the bedroom and you can try it on. You have such lovely bubbies, Mother, that it would be a shame to wear anything but a proper brassiere, one that will show them off to greatest possible advantage."
"Not now," Aunt Lois said. "It wouldn't be proper to run off and leave poor Louis. After all, he is company-at least for the first few days."
Although my face was beet red, I tried my best to pretend that I was completely deaf-that I was not paying the slightest attention to all their talk about tits.
Suddenly, Althea turned to me.
"Mother tells me you're wearing a pair of my best panties. How do they feel on you?"
I choked on the dry cookie and felt the terrible pressure of her hand as she deliberately squeezed my tool through my trousers. I wanted to look down, to enjoy the sight of her slim, pink hand on my organ, but I didn't dare. I stared straight off into space.
"All right," I croaked.
Aunt Lois laughed.
"You should have seen him when I brought the panties in to him," she said. "He had just taken down his drawers, and his little wee-wee was showing. I never saw a boy pull up his undershorts so fast in my life."
Althea roared with laughter.
"You mean Mother actually saw you in the nude?"
I nodded and took a deep draught of tea. It burned my insides, but it kept me from looking at Althea. By now her hand was stroking my penis under the trousers and I felt a strange gurgling deep in my groin.
"No more teasing," Aunt Lois said finally. "And no more girl talk about brassieres. I guess our Louis isn't a tiny child any more, and I believe we're embarrassing him. Are we embarrassing you, Louis?"
If she only knew my problem! If she only knew that the talk was but a tiny part of my discomfiture! If she only knew that her darling daughter was at this moment stroking a rock-hard pecker in her very presence. Wow!
"You take young Louis on a turn around the grounds, Althea," she finally said. "It has been years since he was at Chesterton Manor, and there have been many changes. Show him the swimming pool and the new stable and-well, you know what we've added since he was here three years ago."
"I thought perhaps we would go to the spare room and play a game or two," Althea said. "I imagine Louis is tired after his long journey from London. All right if we just relax this afternoon and show him the grounds tomorrow?"
Aunt Lois smiled. "Of course, dear," she said. "Now, I want you two to do everything possible to get on well together. No squabbling and no fighting. All right?"
"All right, Mother."
Althea took my hand and led me quickly from the great dining room. She fairly ran with me up the wide staircase, even though it was quite difficult for me even to walk. She kept pushing against me as we went up the stairs, pretending to play like a child, but each time she came near, her hand clutched at my crotch and she deliberately pressed her ample young breasts into my shoulder and back.
"I like to play hospital," she announced when we were in the spare room. Actually, it was a bedroom where a great number of games were stored. The floor was littered with various game parts, and I had hoped we might indulge ourselves in Chinese checkers.
"How do you play hospital?" I asked. I knew I should have insisted on the checkers.
She pushed me down on the bed and pulled a large box from under it. She opened the box and took out several wooden strips and large rolls of white gauze.
"You are the patient," she said, smiling a strange and almost evil smile at me. "You have broken both your legs and both your arms in a carriage accident, and you must be put up in splints at once to avoid having gangrene set in. Lie still now."
She laboriously trussed me up in four splints, leaving me quite helpless on the bed. With extra gauze, she wrapped my head and tied one end of the gauze to the bedstead. She did the same to my feet, and I began to feel quite uneasy about the entire situation.
"All right," I said. "Now, unwrap this silly mess and you can be the patient."
She bent low over my face and stared into my eyes. Her lips pursed into a kissing pose, and she kept staring at me. "If I were to be the patient, would you promise not to take advantage of me?"
"What-what do you mean?"
"Well," she said, brushing her lips lightly against mine, "if you were to tie me up like this, I should be quite helpless, you know. If you wanted, you could take off my dress and look at my naked, helpless body. You might even decide to fondle my breasts or to place your hand over me-over my..."
"Your what?" I asked foolishly.
"My pussy!"
I had already erected, but the magic of that word, spoken so plainly and so emphatically on her red, sweet lips, caused my tool to jerk violently under my trousers and in the slippery confines of the silk panties.
"As it is," she continued, "you are tied up, and you are quite helpless. If I wanted to, I could do anything I wanted to you. And you know what, cousin Louis, I have been wondering for some time just what you have under your trousers. Something very long and very hard. What on earth could it be?"
I felt sweat pour out of my forehead and my underarms. I knew what was coming, but I didn't think she would really have the nerve. No girl had ever seen me before, and as much as I wanted it, I was frightened at the prospect of my cousin's proceeding with her proposal.
"Don't you cause a fuss now," she said. "I must see what that strange object is, Louis. You just lie quietly, like a good patient. After all, a boy with two broken arms and two broken legs must be washed from time to time. Since you have been in this bed for a whole week without a bath, it is time nurse gave you one, wouldn't you say?"
"We're only pretending," I said.
"Then, I'll only pretend to give you a bath," she said.
Her eyes glistened like diamonds as she unbuttoned my fly. When she saw the pink panties, she swore under her breath. There was no fly in the panties. But Althea was breathing very hard now, and her face revealed a strong desire to continue what she had started. She unbuckled my belt and slid my trousers down over my hips.
"What a beautiful sight," she breathed.
I looked down. My erect penis, trapped under the thin silk, had stretched the material so tight that it was virtually transparent. She studied the rigid object from several angles and touched a finger to the moist spot at the tip.
"You have been quite active," she said. "Have you been playing with it?"
My throat was so tight that I could not speak. I shook my head.
"Someone has," Althea said, "or else it wouldn't be moist there. Do you know who might have been playing with it or stroking it."
"Yes," I croaked. "You."
"Naughty boy," she said, pretending to slap my face.
Suddenly, she could restrain herself no longer. She grabbed the band of the pink panties and, with some difficulty, stretched it over my enlarged post and pulled the panties down to my thighs. Then, with the professional motions of a trained nurse, she proceeded to "lather" my penis and balls. She worked her hands back and forth over my entire genital region, pretending to wash me. Suddenly, she stopped "washing" and held my tool upright with her right hand. She clutched it tightly and held it quite still for a long time. Slowly, her hand began to move up and down, and she watched the throbbing animal as she did so. Her eyes fairly glistened with the fascination she had for my penis. Her hand moved faster now and her eyes widened and her breasts heaved rapidly from her heavy breathing.
My god, I thought, she's actually frigging me. She's going to make me come. I had heard a great deal about sexual climax from some of the boys at school, but I had never yet achieved such a miracle, no matter how excited I had made myself and no matter how diligently I had frigged the little devil.
But now I felt the juices boiling inside me and felt the sharp electric pings in my groin. So this was sexual climax. So this was what it was like to approach a come. Her hand worked faster and faster, and she moved closer so that her great young breasts touched my naked thigh.
"Althea!"
Good Lord, it was Aunt Lois. She sounded so close. I had a horrible vision of her coming through the door. The worst part of it was that Althea did not seem to hear her mother calling. In fact, she increased her tempo on my rampant, ready-to-explode cork! "Althea!"
My cousin leaped to her feet and ran to the door. "Coming, Mother," she called. She looked back at me. "Don't go away," she said.
Before I could protest her leaving me in such an exposed condition, she slammed the door behind her and I heard her footsteps bounding on the stairs. I wrestled with the bindings, and after a couple of agonizing moments in which I expected my aunt to walk into the room, I managed to snake the splint and gauze from my right arm. I untied the others and threw the splints and bandages to the floor. I sat, up in the bed and contemplated my still erect, still rampant pecker.
God damn!
I grabbed the animal in my right hand, and before I realized what I was doing, I was frigging it like someone possessed by demons. My excitement grew to a tremendous peak and even approached the massive feeling of excitement that I had just experienced with Althea's hand on me. The experience was so completely new and so completely unexpected that I knew, deep inside, that this was it. Finally, after so many times trying, I was going to shoot off, as they say.
When it came, I nearly panicked. I felt the surging, boiling, agonizing pressure in my balls and shuddered to the sudden pain in the hollow of my cock as the spunk fairly roared up from the depths of my body. With a triumphant joy, I watched the pearly liquid arc high into the air and splatter on the polished wooden floor. In a moment of joy, my time of exultance, I very nearly failed to hear the sharp footsteps on the stairs. When I heard them, I knew instantly that Aunt Lois was coming.
My performance during the next seven seconds was that of a magician. In one great movement, I whipped up my trousers and pink panties and also swiped the spunk from the floor with the ocean of gauze. I also managed to grab up a children's story book, and I lay back on the bed pretending to read it as she came into the room.
"Isn't that a little young for you?" she asked from the doorway.
I put the book down and looked at her in what I hoped would be interpreted as surprise.
"I guess so," I said, "but I like books such as this."
She came to the bed and sat beside me. She ruffled my blonde hair with her slender hand and smiled fondly at me.
"My dear little Louis Appleby," she said. 'In spite of the trouble at home, you still cling to your childhood, don't you? I don't blame you, darling. Stay a child as long as possible. If you can help it, never grow up."
She looked down at the mass of tangled gauze and shook her head in mock exasperation.
"That girl," she said, "loves to play hospital."
She reached for the gauze, and my heart did a double somersault-backward.
"Never mind, Aunt Lois," I said. "I'll roll it all up as good as new."
"Thank you, Louis," she said. "And when you're done, would you mind joining Althea in the garden? I have her weeding my favorite flowerbed, and your help will be most welcome."
"Yes, ma'am."
Throughout the afternoon, I was certain that Aunt Lois must have known that something was going on-at least, I felt guilty about it-but she dispelled all doubt at the dinner table with the following announcement.
"Louis, I know you like for us to think of you as a grown-up young man, and I do hope you won't be offended at my request, but we do have a problem.
The workmen are coming tomorrow to paint some of the bedrooms, including Althea's, and I would like you to share your room with her tonight. Is that all right with you? The other rooms have already been cleared out, although I suppose we could make other arrangements."
The request came like a thunderbolt, and I had to admit to myself that I had mixed emotions about it. I yearned for the feeling I had experienced while playing hospital with Althea, but frankly, I was scared to death of my promiscuous and almost insane cousin.
"I don't mind if Althea doesn't."
"You'd better not be a kicker or a thrasher," Althea said. I looked at her and could not detect a single sign of her earlier wicked looks. She had the look of a child.
I tried to outwait Althea, but we were both shunted off to bed at 10 o'clock by Aunt Lois. Inside the room, Althea immediately changed character and looked at me with the same wicked expression she had used when she had me at her mercy. I sat on a small chair near the window, fully clothed, until she went to the bathroom. Then I quickly shucked off my clothes, plunged into my pajamas, and leaped between the covers in the bed. I turned my back to the wall and began a sort of slow, deep breathing in hopes she would think I was fast asleep.
Finally, the bathroom door opened, and I listened to her soft footsteps as she came into the room. I heard the slippery sound of garments being slid over skin and bit a comer of my pillow to ease the ache that was rising in my groin. After my wild and rollicking act in the game room, my dong had ached throughout the day, and it still ached. Yet it had erected mightily and seemed to take great delight in the sound of feminine garments being removed and folded over a chair. into her tiny, tight cunt. She held it there in a vise-like grip and began to move her buttocks around and around in a small circle. I thought she was going to tear off my equipment as she increased her tempo and made wider circles with her buttocks and pussy.
Althea then slid her hand down behind her buttocks and cupped my balls. I lay on my back and tried to imagine how anything could possibly feel so good. Instinctively, I started to thrust and withdraw in accompaniment with her movements. Suddenly, I was bucking faster and faster, unable to stop, unable to stem the thundering tide of a strange feeling that rushed through my veins.
Every thought left me except the awareness of my physical delights-and such thoughts and feelings as I had never dreamed were constant inside my heaving body. In a wicked movement, Althea fell to one side, and I instinctively clambered aboard her wriggling, heaving, gyrating body.
Gasping and grunting, we toiled lustily, our lips in constant contact, our tongues intermingling. Her hands clasped my buttocks and seemed to guide me in the hot track. My own hands were embedded in the soft flesh of her tits. And then the strange and beautiful feeling I had felt earlier when I had been aroused to the point of self-enjoyment came again to my loins, and I increased my speed. Once, I overestimated my size and came all the way out. Four hands scrambled madly in the darkness, and within a split second, the throbbing cock was churning once again in the wet, oozing love tunnel.
With each moment and each movement the feeling grew, until I knew that I would burst at any minute. Both our bodies were heaving uncontrollably as we each approached the end.
In a great burst of feverish activity and excitement, we both jerked violently, and I knew I was having my second orgasm.
"Fuck me, my sweet cousin," Althea moaned. "Oh, fuck me with that handsome prick that I love so much. Oh, sweet Louis Appleby, fuck me until the cows come home."
It wasn't-likely that I would, unless the cows were almost home and running fast. A tremendous wave of power swept over my frail body, and in a final burst of erratic jerking and frenzied fucking, I felt all my strength drain away, like water from a bottle. I fell back, exhausted, but Althea still panted like a wild woman.
"Don't stop! Don't stop fucking me, Louis!" she cried.
I was puzzled by her request. It was all over for me, and I rather imagined that it must be all over for her. But if she wanted to continue, I was able to do it from the rigidity of my peter-it was just that I didn't feel like going on. Nevertheless, I raised to position and began a quick flurry of plunges into her naked body. It took only a half dozen thrusts and her nails were clawing at my buttocks, her strong young legs squeezing the life from my ribs.
"Ah," she sighed at last, relaxing under me. "You were too quick, young man. Next time, wait for your cousin."
The next time came in an hour, when she crept across my sleeping body and, taking my limp pecker into her mouth, began to suck on me. Her lips and tongue fairly bathed my instrument into full erection, and even half-asleep, I crawled on top of her again and slid the naked beast into her sweet, wet cunny.
It was a night to remember. They say that a man never forgets his first piece, and, as evidenced by this account, it is true in my case. But it was more than a night to remember; it was the first of what was to become a long and delightful career.
The summer passed quickly-all too quickly-and it came time for Aunt Lois and Althea to accompany me in the carriage to the railway station for the long solitary ride back to the city. Althea had drained me virtually dry during my vacation. Except for the few days each month when she was incapacitated, we managed to sneak at least one good screwing into the schedule every night. We were nearly caught many times, and I was certain that Aunt Lois must have known what was going on.
However, on the platform at the station, she said something that indicated rather strongly that she suspected nothing.
"You're a wonderful and handsome boy, Louis," she said, running her slender fingers through my unruly hair. "I shall always think of you as a boy. Never grow up, my child. Stay the sweet, young, wide-eyed boy you are."
Althea, standing by, almost choked, and she forced herself to look away, down the tracks, so that she did not give away her own thoughts.
"And you must come back to visit us next summer if you can," she said. "You and Althea get on so well, and I have a feeling that you're good for her. You can help to keep her out of naughty trouble."
And that reminded me. When I had first arrived at Chesterton Manor, Althea had been left at home as punishment for being naughty. I had never found out why. Later, as the train rounded a far bend in the tracks and rumbled into the station, I kissed Althea goodbye on the cheek and asked her why she was being punished on the day of my arrival.
"Mother caught me playing with myself," she said with a wicked grin.
All the way back to London on the train, I thought about her words and wondered why Aunt
Lois would throw us together if she had evidence that Althea was of an age to be sexually aroused. It would seem a dangerous and contributory arrangement. I wondered, but I would never know the truth.
CHAPTER TWO
During the dismal winter in London, Father and I lived together in the big, rambling apartment near the Circus. My life seemed to center on two things-school during the day and the solitude and loneliness of the apartment in the evening. Father spent a lot of time on the road traveling for his company, and I was left alone with the old maid, Constance. By contrast to the summer at Chesterton Manor, it was a considerably dreary life.
Shortly before Christmas, however, the house grew silent, and I awoke one morning to the soft patter of footsteps in the corridor outside my room. There were several people there, and they moved slowly, quietly, almost ghost-like. I leaped out of bed and opened my bedroom door. I burst into tears when I saw what was going on.
Two men were carrying poor dead Constance on a stretcher. Behind them were the doctor and my father, both shaking their heads in sadness
"What happened, Father?" I asked.
He came to me quickly and stood between me and the dead maid, presumably to shield my tender eyes against the horror of death.
"Go back to bed, Louis," he said. "Constance isn't with us any more, poor soul. Heart attack during the night. Don't worry, though. I shall have a neighbor girl in to care for you until we can hire a new maid."
The neighbor girl was a regular lemon, and I spent a dismal three days while father was tied up with company business and the funeral arrangements. On the fourth day, however, he came home at noon with a very lovely woman and a young girl. The woman was Melinda Struthers, and she was our new maid. Because she was a widow and had a twelve-year-old daughter, it was necessary that the daughter live with her wherever she was employed.
My father thought the arrangement ideal, since the girl, whose name was Melody, would be an excellent companion and playmate for me. Ever since the divorce and my return from Chesterton Manor, he had expressed great concern for my lack of companionship with someone my age. This, he reasoned, was the perfect solution.
My experiences with Althea had not made me precocious or, in fact, any less bashful and retiring when it came to girls. With Althea, anything was possible, and I felt right at home pulling down her panties and shoving my cork into her fuzz. Even though I found Melody quite pretty and was entranced by her budding young breasts, it was not my intention to ravage the girl-in fact, the thought crossed my mind briefly and caused me to blush.
While father showed the maid her duties, I took Melody on a brief tour of the huge apartment. When we got to my bedroom, the girl went inside and began to look in every corner and every drawer. She seemed to take great interest in my room and in my things. She actually lifted a pair of my undershorts out of a drawer, inspected them closely, and dropped them back inside.
"Why did you do that?" I asked.
She grinned, and the expression on her face reminded me of Althea.
"I like boys' under things," she said quickly. "Don't you like girls' panties and brassieres?"
If she only knew, I thought. If she only knew that I had worn girl's panties for three whole days last summer!
"I guess so," I said. "I hadn't given it much thought."
"My mother tells me you're thirteen," she said, turning so that I could catch the full silhouette of her firm, high breasts. "Have you ever done anything with a girl?"
I swallowed hard and turned away so that she would not see my face reddening.
"There's no reason to blush," she said. "After all, this is the nineteenth century and has been for more than fifty years. Girls and boys talk about such things these days." , "I don't," I said, looking down at the floor.
She came close to me and deliberately rubbed my upper arm with both her breasts. Her flat belly and groin flattened against my flank, and I felt my tool erecting, rising in small jerks until it was at full tilt. Her hand came around to the front of my trousers, and before I could leap away, she felt the hardness.
"I knew it," she said. "It works on every boy. You're not so nicey-nice as you think, Master Louis Appleby. I'll bet you play with that delightful hard thing when you're alone in this room at night."
I hated her at that moment. I felt like mashing her in the face and telling her to stop talking in such a foul, degrading way. But something else told me to be nice to her. She was pretty, and she had a delightful shape. It had been months since I had entertained my throbbing instrument with anything but my hand, and I began to believe that if her actions were anything like her words, I had another Althea on my hands.
Before I could indicate my willingness to play the game her way, she pulled away and went outside. When I joined her, I had shifted my erect stanchion to a less visible position.
The afternoon dragged slowly, and I noticed that Melody's mother kept looking from me to Melody in a strange way. I wondered if she suspected what had happened in my room-or if she could possibly guess what was going on in my mind. The thought also occurred to me that Melinda, like Aunt Lois, just might be interested in promoting something between Melody and myself. But it was a wild, fleeting thought, and I immediately dismissed it.
Long after the house had gone to bed and the candles had been snuffed out, I heard my door open and felt the presence of someone in the room. I heard the rustling of nightclothes and then heard the creak of a board as someone approached my bed.
"Who's there?" I asked drowsily. "Shhhhh!" the dark figure said. "It's me. Melody."
I sat up, and before I knew what was happening, she was in the bed with me, hugging me, kissing my face, pressing her naked body against me. I grunted from the impact of her body on me and flailed my arms in the darkness. But Melody needed no encouragement. She went directly to the task of rendering me naked. In a very few seconds, my pajamas were on the floor beside the bed and Melody's slim body was under me, her hands groping for my already erecting penis.
"I could tell by the look in your eyes that you wanted me," she whispered as her lips planted innumerable kisses on my face. "I can always tell, and that's why I'm not a virgin. I haven't been a virgin for six months, because I knew when a boy wanted me and I didn't wait for him to get up the nerve to take me. I love to fuck, Louis. Don't you?"
I started to lie, to tell her that I didn't know how, but something possessed me at that moment. I remembered all the nights and wild afternoons with Althea as we screwed in my bed, her bed, the flower garden, the woods, the barn, and everywhere else we happened to be when the urge came upon us. I grabbed the girl's willing body and pushed her legs apart with my knees. I knelt between her quivering legs and after checking her moisture level with my hand, plunged my dong all the way up her furry, tight little pussy.
She was so surprised and shocked by my sudden dramatic behavior that she uttered a tiny cry. I clapped my hand over her mouth with one hand and massaged her hard little tits with the other. She was a delight to the touch and the senses. Her breasts did not have the comfortable bulk that Althea's had, but they incited a great sensuous feeling in me, and I started to screw her like a maniac.
She lay still at first, shocked, then her body responded with the unpracticed ability of all mankind. We copulated like a couple of dogs, panting, grunting, moaning, squealing, ripping at each other without mercy. It wasn't the best I had had, but it was awfully good-partly because she was a strange and new pussy and partly because I had gone so long without pussy after a long summer of delightful practice.
When we were finished and lay exhausted on the bed, she started to get up. I pulled her back.
"Wait," I said. "We were both too eager and ready, and the first one was too-quick. Give me five or ten minutes," I said.
"I'll be too sore," she complained. "You really tore into me, Louis."
"You'll be surprised how ready you can be in a few minutes," I said.
And she was. Before running my thin young lance into her glistening puss, I worked on her for ten minutes until she would have been ready for the Eiffel Tower.
For the next two weeks, we made love at every possible opportunity, but always in my bed. She slept in a two-room suite with her mother and was fearful that her mother would hear us. It was better this way-after we had screwed, I had only to roll over and go to sleep, whereas she had to creep back down the dark corridor and sneak into her own apartment. It was a beautiful arrangement.
But at the end of two weeks, the roof almost caved in on me. I had taken a liking to cigarettes during the long evenings alone in the apartment, when father was off gallivanting over the Continent, and had been regularly snitching them from his cigarette box in the parlor. On a Friday evening in January, I had just taken six from the box and turned to go back to my room, when I saw the maid standing in the doorway.
"Hello," I said innocently, holding the cigarettes behind me.
"What have you in your hand?" she demanded. It was no good to lie, so I showed her the cigarettes.
"How long have you been stealing your father's cigarettes?"
"This is the first time," I lied. "I thought I would like to see what it is like to smoke."
"You are thirteen years old, Louis," she said with a great deal of adult authority in her voice. "You should know better than to steal, and you should know that smoking is very naughty."
"Father smokes."
"He is an adult," she said. "You're just a child."
"Are you going to tell him?"
I knew that the world would collapse if she did. Father was an extremely prudish and strict man when something was wrong. He would be angry with me and would probably punish me with a small whipping. I would not mind the whipping, but my life was too lonely to spare the moments of his anger. I wanted his love and devotion at all times. I needed them.
"Come to my room," she said, "where we can discuss it."
On the way to her suite, she explained that Melody had gone out with a friend and would not be back for a few hours. She led me into her small sitting room, and while she sat on the couch, she had me stand in the center of the room. "Well?" I asked.
"All right," she said. "I have something to say to you. I know that stealing cigarettes is not your only naughty act"
Oh Good Lord, I thought. How could she possibly know about Melody and myself? Or could she? Did she? I decided to volunteer nothing.
"Every day," she continued, "I change the sheets on your bed, and I have noticed that almost every morning there are strange signs."
"Signs?"
"Yes," she said. Her long skirt had been pulled up when she sat, and she allowed her knees to part enough for me to see her white thighs. I felt my small pecker begin to stir. "I think you are doing something in bed at night. Tell me what you do in bed at night, Louis."
Her legs parted more, and I could see the white swath of panties at her crotch. My body began to tremble, and I wondered what she was leading up to. I didn't dare think that she would actually do what I had reason to believe she might do.
"Take off your clothing," she commanded. "I want you to take off your clothing and tell me what you do in bed at night. Better still, show me what you do."
"I don't understand," I said. But I was beginning to. She did not suspect that I had been making love to Melody. She thought I was playing with myself, tossing myself off into the sheets. Such irony, I thought.
Slowly and reluctantly, I removed my clothing. She sat as still as a rock as I did so. When I was completely naked, I looked down and noticed that my penis was only half erected, that it stood out from my body in a drooping arc, like a ripe banana.
"Now," she said, spreading her legs farther apart. "Show me what you do to yourself in bed."
"Please," I said, my body shivering involuntarily, "I'm cold. Can't I put my clothes back on?"
"Would you like for me to tell your father about the cigarettes-and about what you do to yourself in bed at night?"
I lowered my head and said that I would not like for her to tell anyone.
"Come here and kneel down between my knees," she said. I averted my eyes from hers and knelt in front of her. Her knees touched my naked sides under my arms, and she pulled the skirt all the way up to her crotch. She lifted her body from the couch and slid the white panties down in front of me. Lifting one foot at a time, she took off the panties and dropped them on the floor beside me.
Then she really opened her thighs, and I was staring at the biggest, hairiest twat in the entire world. The hairs parted at the center, revealing two great red lips. There was hair everywhere, all the way up to her navel, I guessed.
"This," she said, "is a female sex organ. Your father should be telling you the facts of life, but I guess I shall have to. This big, hairy thing is called many things, but I shall call it a pussy. Have you ever heard that word."
"Yes."
"Have you ever seen one."
"No."
"The purpose of a pussy," she continued, "is to accept that long, slender thing that you have been playing with. In that way, it is beautiful and natural. To frig yourself in your bed at night is naughty. Do you understand?"
By now, my penis was fully erect, and although not very large yet, it felt as big as a telephone pole. She looked down at it and then placed her cool hand on it.
"This is a very pleasant feeling, isn't it."
"Yes."
"It is pleasant when you hold it, isn't it?" I didn't answer.
"But it is far more pleasant and far more natural when you allow a pussy to hold it," she said. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"
I looked at the big, hairy animal before my eyes. I had never seen such a thing, but knowing what it was like inside, I felt my erect tool quiver and throb. I wondered if she would actually let me put my pecker inside that great black monster.
"Now," she said, stroking my penis lightly, "I know that you have been doing two naughty things. Smoking and frigging. I want you to put your little thing inside my big, juicy pussy, Louis. If you don't, I shall be forced to tell your father what you have been doing. However, if you choose to insert your tool into my pussy, I don't want you to mention it to your father. We will both have secrets to keep. What do you wish to do?"
She was not aware of my great desire to do her first bidding, and I decided not to let her become aware of it.
"Must I?" I said.
She let go of my pecker and .ay back on the couch. She pulled her long skirts up over her hips and exposed her white thighs, with their black garters, to me. I swallowed hard and wished that she would take off her clothes so that I could lounge in the luxury of her enormous tits.
"You must," she said, spreading her legs for me to see the great gap of her pussy. "Now, let's get on with it in case Melody decides to come back early."
Pretending great reluctance, I climbed aboard. I nad long since lost my self-consciousness, and I immediately guided my aching instrument into the opening of her twat. She clucked her tongue and chastised me.
"My, my, dear child," she said. "It is easy to see that you are, indeed, virgin soil. You never plunge directly into a pussy without first preparing it for your giant machine. You must kiss me and fondle my breasts and perhaps insert a finger or two into it."
She pulled me against her huge bosom, and her wet lips found mine. I pressed my lips together, pretending that I did not even know how to kiss. She pushed them apart with her tongue, and quite soon I was kissing her with a semblance of knowledge about the act.
"That's better," she said. "Now, slip your hands under my dress and find my titties. Pinch the nipples lightly, now, and try to get them to erect for you."
"Wouldn't it be better if you took off your clothes?" I asked. I knew I was flirting with danger, but it was terribly awkward making love to her with so many clothes about, and I did so want to feel the smooth flesh of her big tits on my hands and my thin chest. Who knew what it could lead to-perhaps I might even be able to put my slim pecker between the great breasts and shoot into her face when it was time.
"My, you're a cheeky boy, once you get started," she said. But the smile told me she would do as I suggested and that see was happy that I had suggested it. With a few deft movements, she slipped out of her dress, her corset, her brassiere, and her stockings and garter belt. I sat on the end of the couch contemplating my throbbing cork as she disrobed.
"Now," she said, flopping back on the couch and spreading her legs again, "let's see how good a lover you are, my young sprout. See if you can get me aroused."
I fell across her heavy body, marveling at the size of her nipples. They were almost as big as Melody's entire tits, and my hand could scarcely cover one of them. I buried one hand in one of her tits and clasped the other one over her huge mount. My middle finger slipped into the slippery hole and virtually lost itself in the folds of her cunny. She began to breathe more heavily, and her wet lips kissed my face in a flurry of passionate acts that threatened to drown me.
Although the kisses were dimming my ardor a bit, I concentrated on her tits and her pussy and was soon at full tilt again. When her puss was quite moist, I hastened to get into position again.
"Now you're doing it right," she said. Her hands grasped my animal and thrust him into her hole. I dropped heavily and seemed to hit bottom without touching the sides of her puss. She groaned and moaned and pretended that I was half lolling her. I decided to teach her a small lesson.
When I withdrew, I shifted my buttocks slightly off kilter and literally drove in at an angle. The tip of my dork raked along one side of her puss, while the other side of my dork pressed brutally against the opposite side of her vagina. She bucked and cried out and called for more.
I was not capable of many more such plunges and soon found myself screwing her in an almost normal fashion. She compressed the muscles in her pussy and began to grip my slim tiger in a most delightful fashion.
This activity continued, sending a tremendous fusillade of sensation all through my body. Every touch of her body on me caused me to quiver, and I was enjoying even the most minute of pleasures. Some unknown force guided me, and no sooner had I taken a dozen strokes than we were both gasping in breathless delight, with her providing the majority of the vigor.
When I felt the end drawing near, I did nothing to deter its coming, because I wanted the episode to draw to a close. There was something about her body and her manner that was gross, and in spite of the tremendous sensations of pleasure that shot through my body, I was not enjoying it half as much as I had with Melody-or with Althea.
In a savage burst that nearly drove us both into a frenzy, I jerked into an orgasm inside her. She was hot from being without sex for a long time, and her orgasm coincided with mine. I could tell from the way she nearly squeezed the life out of me with her fat, strong thighs.
She wasted no time in pushing me from her after it was over. She turned her face from me as I stood before her, my still-erect penis dripping with our spendings.
"You are truly a naughty boy," she said. "Get dressed quickly and go to your room. I don't want to see you until tomorrow. And don't you ever say anything about this to anybody. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I dressed quickly and, my penis still hard, walked to the door and opened it.
"One more thing, Louis," she said, looking up at me from the couch where she still sat naked, her huge breasts resting against her stomach.
"Yes?"
"Don't play with yourself tonight in bed," she said, looking away. "Save it for me. I shall want to see you in my suite at this same time tomorrow night. I shall send Melody on an errand, and we will have to be quick. You must come tomorrow night."
"Yes, ma'am."
I left the room in sheer panic. As I ran down the corridor to my own room, I felt a deep sense of great loathing for the woman and knew that I would not go back the following night. I would never go back to the heavy, sloppy, big-cunted old bitch. I would tell my father everything first.
But I went back. Night after night, I went back and fucked the hungry woman and every night after doing it to her, I screwed Melody when she crept into my bed. And this went on for almost a year.
In the middle or my next term at school, however, Melinda became quite ill with pneumonia. Her fever shot up to 105, and Father stayed home from a business trip to the Continent to watch after her. I shall never forget the feeling of horror I felt when, on the evening she died, I was standing in the corridor outside her room and heard her hoarse voice cry out in her delirium.
"Do it, Louis," the fever-crazed woman was saying. "Take that little pecker of yours and shove it up me good. That's it, Louis Appleby, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"
I ran. I left the house and slept all night under the bushes outside the apartment building. Father found me before dawn the next morning and carried me up to my bed. Although I awoke when he lifted me from the bushes, I kept my eyes closed and pretended to be sound asleep.
He placed me in my bed and stood looking down at me. I squinted through nearly closed lids and saw his dark silhouette, his head shaking sadly from side to side.
"You poor boy," he said in the quiet darkness. "What was that horrible woman doing to you? My God, I shall never know how depraved she was."
CHAPTER THREE
That same year when I was fourteen, my father married again. For months prior to the wedding, he had frequently spoken to me about the future.
"You will like your new mother, Louis. She's a wonderful person, so full of life and fun and vitality. And she has a lovely daughter almost as old as you. It will do you good to have a sister, don't you agree?"
"She won't be my sister," I said.
"Your half sister, in a way," he said. "I don't know what the true relationship will be, but it is a good thing. I have always regretted that your mother and I did not have more children. An only child grows up with quite a different view of life than a child who has many brothers and sisters."
I wondered what it would be like having a sister. I wondered what it would be like screwing a sister-a real sister. In the months since we had sent Melody packing off with her relatives, I had grown quite fond of sex and had even managed to stick it into a couple of girls in my form at school. But they had been fresh, inept, and not half as satisfying as Melody-or even her mother.
But in this manner, Father gradually got me used to the idea of having a mother-and a sister-and I was actually looking forward to the wedding. It had been agreed that his new bride's daughter, Bridget, was to move in with us on the day of the wedding and that we would be looked after during the honeymoon by my Aunt Hattie, my father's sister.
The wedding, as far as I was concerned, was awfully dull. The only spark to the entire affair was Bridget, who was ravishingly beautiful. She had a tremendous set of bubbies, and in her bridesmaid's dress, they seemed to ooze up and out from the pressure of her corsets. She was far more beautiful than Brenda, her mother-my father's new wife.
I could scarcely wait until nightfall when we would be in the house alone with Aunt Hattie. Fortunately, the old girl was nearly deaf and half blind. We would be able to get away with pure murder. But I was in for a tremendous shock.
I was delighted when they arranged for Bridget's bedroom to be right next to mine. There would be no long runs down the corridor for either of us. And there was a transom in the door adjoining the two rooms-if I failed with the girl right off, I would at least be able to climb on top of my night table and look into her room while she dressed for bed. It was better than nothing.
But I was certain that it wouldn't be necessary to peek. Bridget had actually worn lipstick and other cosmetics at the wedding, and everyone knew that girls who did that were not beyond going a little further-and a little further.
When night fell on the city and the house was fast asleep, I tiptoed to the door between our rooms and tried the knob. It was locked, so I sneaked quietly out into the corridor and tried the main door. It, too, was locked. I went back into my room and rapped on the door that joined it with Bridget's room.
"Bridget?" I called out in a hoarse whisper. I heard rustling in the other room and sensed her presence on the other side of the door. "Yes?" she said.
"Open the door. It's locked from your side."
There was a pause.
"Why should I open it?" she asked.
"I want to come in and talk to you."
Another pause.
"We have nothing to talk about."
This time, I paused.
"I want to show you something," I said at last.
My penis was already erected from the thought of showing it to the beautiful half sister, or step sister, or whatever she was to me.
"What is it?" she whispered back.
I decided to really go for broke.
"My big, hard, throbbing pecker," I said.
"I'm going to tell Mummy," she snorted without hesitation. "I have never heard anything so naughty in my life."
And that is the way it went during the entire honeymoon. I was actually relieved when Father and Brenda returned home. I had tried everything to get to Bridget, even to the point of running up behind her and cupping her titties from behind. I had merely been thumped soundly for my efforts.
Three nights after Father's return I learned why.
He left unexpectedly on a trip to the Continent, and the three of us-Brenda, Bridget, and myself were alone in the apartment. Throughout dinner, the two females cast fond looks at each other but actually looked mean and disdainful when they looked at me. Following dinner, I was sent to my room, even though it was far too early to go to sleep.
It was about 10 o'clock-and I was just dozing off-when I heard their voices as they entered Bridget's room. I woke up and strained my ears to hear them in the darkness. Their voices were muffled and the transom was closed, so I got up and put my ear to the door.
"Darling Mummy," Bridget was saying, "was the honeymoon so terrible?"
"Not too terrible, darling," my new mother said. "Have you been a good girl?"
"Oh yes."
"Any trouble with the brat-that sneaky little Louis?"
My ears burned at this. I had not cared much for Brenda, but I was unaware of her stark opinion of me.
"Yes, he kept at me the whole time."
"Did you ... did he ... ? " There was the loud sound of a kiss. "No, Mummy," Bridget said. "I have waited for you."
"Good girl," Brenda said. "I have missed you. Do you realize that it has been more than three weeks?"
"I know."
"Out of those stifling clothes, darling," her mother said. "I want to get a good look at my beautiful daughter."
When I heard the rustling of cloth on skin, I erected quickly and decided that I must have a look. From the talk, I couldn't tell what in thunder was going on. They talked like lovers, but it was impossible. They were both females! I pulled the night table to a spot in front of the door and climbed on top of it. It was uneven, with the edge of the rug under one side, but I balanced myself perfectly and stood on my tip toes to look through the transom.
I nearly fell off the table when my eyes focused on the scene in the room. Bridget had taken off all her clothes, and my new stepmother was already bare to the waist. They were facing each other, and I had no trouble seeing all of their breasts, as well as the dark little patch of hair on Bridget's pussy.
Suddenly, while Brenda took off her skirt and worked on her long panties, Bridget reached out and fondled her breasts. I couldn't believe that one female would be interested in touching another female's breasts. Yet here was Bridget, the object of much pursuing and much passion on my part, actually playing with her mother's tits! Uncanny!
When my step-mothere was naked, the two women clasped each other, their big tits smashing together and their hairy crotches actually grinding together. My hand slipped into my pajamas and clasped my erect dork as the scene in the room below me excited more passion.
"Gadzooks!" I cried under my breath. This was the most uncanny display I have ever seen. What on earth could they possibly hope to accomplish with each other?
In a moment of tremendous ecstasy, the two females fell across Bridget's bed, and while their lips kissed passionately and vigorously, their hands traveled up and down each other's bodies.
"Oh, my darling Bridget," my stepmother moaned, "I've wanted you so much for so long. Did you want me?"
"Every minute, Mummy."
Jesus Christ, I thought. What on earth for?
They kissed so fervently and made love so vigorously that I felt the juices flowing hot in my balls. I began a slow stroking of my penis, at the same time balancing on the wobbly table and keeping my eyes on the two clinging women below. When I saw Brenda's legs intertwine with Bridget's and her thigh press into the soft black fur at Bridget's crotch, I increased the tempo on my tool. In a frenzy of passionate agony, I slid my pajamas down to my knees in order to get at my penis better.
"Mummy," Bridget was saying, "can we-I mean, can you do it tonight?"
"Of course, darling," my stepmother said. "Just let me hold your sweet young titties to mine for a moment. I have missed the sweet and hard feel of your little nipples against mine, and I want to cherish this moment longer."
By this time, I didn't care what the hell the two . .females were going to do. Their actions on the bed-and the sight of so much white-pink female flesh -had done marvelous things to me, and I was frigging so hard, I knew I would come at any second.
But all emergencies-or tragedies-have habit of occurring at the wrong moment. The wobbly table chose this very moment to give way with a resounding crash against the door. I was thrown the opposite way and landed with a sickening thud on my back in the middle of the floor. The blow momentarily stunned me, and when I came to my senses, both Brenda and Bridget were standing in the doorway with candles. They were wearing robes of identical color, shape, and design.
The game was up. There was no disguising the fact that I had been eavesdropping through the transom. And there was no disguising the fact that my pajamas were down around my ankles and that my stanchion was as erect as it could possibly get.
Before I could leap from the floor and run for safety, strong hands gripped my arms, lifted me from the floor, and dragged me to the bed. In the process, my pajamas came off my feet and I was totally defenseless from the waist down.
"So, Louis," my stepmother said. "You like to eavesdrop and do naughty things to yourself at the expense of others. I hope you found the performance to your liking."
I didn't answer. I just looked from hard face to hard face and wondered what they could possibly do to me or if they would actually try to do anything to me. Brenda looked at her daughter.
"Do you think we should make it easier on him?" she asked.
"What do you mean, Mummy?"
"I mean, it's a shame the poor boy has to stand on a miserable table and peek at us through the transom. I think we should invite him over to watch in comfort. Perhaps we might find a way to fit him into our little endeavors, if he insists. Do you insist, Louis?"
I said nothing. If I responded in the same mocking tone, it would only serve to anger her more. If I begged off, it would add fuel to what was obviously an extremely wicked nature. And it was impossible to lie about what had been going on. Suddenly, I grew angry and realized that they had been far naughtier in their conduct than I. After all, I had only myself to answer to-and what did it really matter to my father that I played with myself a little? But Brenda was married to him, and here she was, actually making sexual love to her own daughter.
"Just go on about your business and leave me alone," I said. "I don't want to be a part of your nasty business. If you don't leave me alone, I shall tell father."
My stepmother laughed and slapped her heavy thigh. Bridget looked slightly worried and kept shifting her eyes from her mother to my stillerect penis and back. I doubted that she had ever seen a penis-she had probably been so wrapped up in her mother that she had never been interested in seeing one. At least, that explained why she kept beating me off all during my father's honeymoon.
"Come along, Louis," my stepmother said, taking my arm again. "You come along with us, and we'll see if you feel like telling your father."
I wanted to fight, but I knew she was stronger than I-and there was Bridget to help her. I got up reluctantly and followed them into Bridget's bedroom. Brenda closed the door and leaned against it, her robe falling open far enough to reveal her great, hairy mount.
"Good Lord," my stepmother said, staring at my pointing pecker. "Just look at your stepbrother, Bridget. Isn't it kind of him to continue to show us how much he appreciated our little exhibition.
Why, his penis is almost as big and hard as a man's."
She proved her point by grabbing my throbbing dork and milking it back and forth several times. I gasped at her touch and jerked back slightly. She held on tightly and even stroked the foreskin back, exposing the reddish knob.
"Really, Bridget," my stepmother said, "this young charger is a grown-up as you, possibly even more. We must show our appreciation to Louis and allow him into our little circle of intimacy. After all, we are in the same family now, and families must always share, mustn't they?"
"Yes, Mummy."
"And so it shall be with us and with Louis," my stepmother said. She led me to the bed, like a sheep to slaughter, fully convinced that she was going to torture me with her and her daughter's bodies. She gently pushed me to the bed, indicating that I should he on my back. When I was in position, they both took off their robes and stood above me, their gleaming white bodies literally thundering on my senses.
"We must share what we have with you, Louis," she said. "Since my daughter is a virgin when it comes to love with a man, I am certain that this night will be one to remember for a long, long time. Am I right, Bridget?"
"Yes, Mummy."
"You have never had anything like this between your legs, have you."
"No, of course not."
"Don't say it that way, child. It is perfectly ail right to be loved by both man and woman. I believe it is time for you to be loved by a man-or a boy-man-tonight. I would guess that Louis, too, s a virgin, or he would not have been so curious and have perched on such a dangerous limb to watch two ladies in their boudoir. Am I right, Louis? Of course I am. Since he is a virgin, he will most-likely last only a few moments and will lose his ability almost instantly. For that reason, I will let you indulge yourself with him first while I watch."
Bridget took a tentative step toward the bed, then stopped. Brenda put her hand to the girl's shoulder and pushed her forward.
"Go ahead, child."
"I don't want to, Mummy," Bridget said. "I want you."
"Nonsense, child. You can have me any time. I want you to know about this, and then you can decide which you like the best. If you are fortunate like me, you will enjoy both. Now, go ahead. It is perfectly all right because I say it is all right. Have I ever given you bad advice?"
"No, Mummy."
When she put one knee to the mattress, I looked down and saw the narrow cleft of her sex. This was going to be rough, I thought. I had never cracked a virgin. Although I had always wanted to, I had heard that it was indeed rough on a man's tool. Perhaps, cecause mine had not reached full growth, it would not be so bad. Bridget was moving terribly slowly, and I wanted her to hurry. I had longed for the touch of her beautiful body and the feel of my pecker in her kitten for more than two weeks, and I could hardly wait another second.
"Hurry up, darling," her mother said. "The poor boy will be soft as a noodle before you even get into the bed with him."
As though to forestall that possibility, the mother stepped forward and gripped my penis firmly in her hand. She stroked it a few times, bearing the helmet-shaped head each time. She showed her daughter how to straddle me and actually guided my shaft to the lair and helped her daughter lower until contact was made.
My head swam with the realization of what was happening. Here I was in a bedroom, naked, with my stepmother and my stepsister, and my stepmother was actually holding my tool and guiding it into her daughter's pussy. It was an incredible arrangement, and I felt fortunate indeed that my little peeking game had been found out.
My head swam, and my whole body grew hot and sensitive under the girl's body. Entry was by no means assured as the raw little twat worked feverishly on the knob of my aching post. I looked down and saw that Brenda's fingers were massaging the girl's twat alongside my stanchion, presumably to make the girl more moist and, hence, more receptive. Christ, what a situation. I was having my lovemaking doen for me by the girl's own mother.
To help matters along, I tossed caution to the winds and reached up to cup the fine young swinging breasts. Bridget looked at me sharply, then decided that it was part of the deal. She liked the feel of my hands on her bare tits, and I felt her body slump against my hands, causing my fingers to grip the breasts even more tightly.
My tool had gone in less than an inch, when all action seemed to stop. Even my stepmother realized that the girl just was not sufficiently prepared for the ordeal. She helped her off, leaving my hungry tool unoccupied.
"I have an idea," she said. "Lie on the bed between Louis's legs. Go ahead, lie on your side."
The girl lay between my legs, far down on the bed, and her mother snuggled up beside her. They kissed several times, and then the mother reversed her position. She buried her face between Bridget's thighs, and I could hear strange slurping sounds. The girl was suddenly transformed. She wriggled between my legs, the pressure and sensual feeling of her body keeping my cork in a constant state of rigidity. Her head bounced once against my balls, and I thought I would lose all ardor from the pain.
Even before the pain had subsided, Bridget, reaching out for anything of sexual nature, had grabbed my tool and had slipped her mouth over the exposed knob. She slid my aching erection deep into her small mouth while her hands fondled my painful nuts. I started to writhe and sway feverishly, unaccustomed to this particular feeling of excitement and passion. My hands went in search of something to grasp and closed over the heavy buttocks of my stepmother. My fingers found her huge mount and dug into the soft, wet, oozing cleft. She groaned and bent even more emphatically to her task. Finally, she pulled away.
"There," she said. "You should have no trouble at all, my precious. You're sopping and oozing and ready for anything."
Bridget quickly returned to her squatting position over me, and she was indeed wet and sopping. Her mother once again guided my pistol to the daughter's pussy, and I slid in a full two inches before a tremendous pressure stopped her from lowering more.
"Push," the mother commanded.
"It hurts," the daughter responded.
"Push anyway."
With one mighty thrust, helped a little Dy a sharp push upward by my buttocks, the hymen was broken and I was buried to the hilt in the virgin twat.
"Yes, darling," her mother said. "Now you two go about it. If you don't know how, I'll be right here to advise you." , I didn't know about darling Bridget, but I needed no advice. I began to cavort wildly, backing off into the soft mattress and shoving upward into the soft, tight puss. The girl fell forward over me, her firm globes and hard nipples caressing my chest. My hands closed around her tight buttocks, and I pulled her to me with each stroke.
But in her untried state, she was much like me on my first excursion. She came in buckets, and the slimy goo oozed out around my plunging shaft and wet the budding hairs of my pubes.
"I did it," she cried. "I already reached the beauty point."
"Get off quickly," the mother said. "Hurry, darling, before the poor boy does the same."
As soon as Bridget was off me, the mother leaped to the bed, straddling my body, and lowered her snapping, convulsing puss to my erect rod. Entry was easy, just as it had been with Melinda, but her puss was a little tighter, more pleasant. In spite of her conviction that I would spend right away, I rode with her for what seemed an eternity.
The feelings that assailed me then were incomparable with those which my own manual attentions had aroused. My despair rose with my passion and I was soon finding each stroke of my penis as distressing as it was exciting. There was just something about older flesh-something strange and inexplicable-that aroused a combination of passion and revulsion in me. I began to wish that I had come into the sweet virgin box of Bridget and could be spared the further episode with the mother.
Yet my balls seemed to be on fire, and my eyes blurred so that I could see only the vague outline of the curvaceous woman on top of me and could barely make out the enormous swinging breasts as they flap-flapped across my chest with the heaving woman's activity.
I was thrashing madly about, squirming violently and desperately in an effort to placate my agonized genitals, when, just as my orgasm seemed impending within the next thrust, I felt Bridget's body close to my face. I tried to focus my eyes on her to see what she was doing, but she was too close. My eyes caught the white of her skin and the fleeting image of her furry box as she swept across my fine of vision.
Then, with the wet-soft feel of her kitten on my face, I knew what was happening. She had crouched above me and had plopped her little cleft directly over my lips. My lungs cried out for fresh air, and I tried to turn my face aside, not to escape the pussy that was on my mouth, but to take in enough air to sustain me for what I knew I must do.
In all my experience, I had never become involved in oral play. I had never touched a puss with my lips and had never, until tonight, had a girl touch my penis with hers. And tonight, I was breaking all records. My hands swung up alongside her body and grasped the heaving tits of her mother. Then, with my slim body jerking my steel-hard prick up into my stepmother's cunt, my hands deeply embedded in the woman's tits, and my mouth firmly planted on the daughter's tiny twat, I seemed to enter a new and different world.
The slap, slap, slap of flesh against flesh was like an opiate in the dimly lighted room. My inner soul cried out with the incredible stab of sensations that surged through me like a million barbed arrows. There was no respite, and I was thoroughly amazed at my newfound capacity to cling to my youthful potency, to outlast one girl and to ride with her mother to what I trusted would be mutual satisfaction.
Such feelings I had not known in all my previous engagements; in fact, they put all others to shame. My fingers splayed out over the great black nipples, and I dared to pinch them hard and I rammed my bony body up into the soft crotch of the mother. Although I was a total novice at the other duty, I seemed to acquit myself well with my tongue (I pretended I was merely French kissing a pair of lips), and the girl soon came again, this time spending her passion into my mouth. I swallowed the acrid moisture out of pure curiosity and decided that I did not truly care for it.
"Holy Ghost and Christ almighty!" Brenda shouted as I continued to thrust into her wide, loose cunt. "I never thought a mere boy would have so much stamina. My God, Louis, you must frig yourself every hour to be able to go this long."
Although I felt that the end was near for me, I knew from experience that my stepmother was not ready for climax. She dropped heavily on me and her powerful legs brought her back to the apex again, but I knew that she needed more than just the thin pencil of my boyish penis to bring her passions to full fruition. She needed something else, some kind of sexual diversion. But what?
When Bridget had lost out for a second time and now lay panting in the chair beside the bed, I reached my long arms around the heavy buttocks of my stepmother and parted her cheeks with my fingers. I probed until I found her tiny brown hole and, without fanfare or preparation or warning, plunged in my middle finger. The woman yelped with surprise and delight, and I worked the finger in and out with a rapid motion that quickly set up a tremendous friction.
All the time, her loins were moving constantly, drawing her cunt along my penis while her circling arms embraced my own buttocks. She was pulling me into her with a tremendous strength and pressure, and I knew that it was not necessary for me to use any of my own energies.
"Good Lord, you little fucker," Brenda cried as my finger kept up its torture of her posterior, "I don't know how you do it and I don't know where you learned it, but you have the makings of a tremendous lover. You ought to talk to your father."
The mention of my father dimimshed my ardor somewhat, but a few more thrusts of her great, gripping pussy returned me to full stature once again. Her expertness sustained us both, and I was amazed at the accuracy with which she planned and executed each stroke. She would rise to the very tip of my pecker, and just when it seemed a certainty that we would disconnect and that my unruly penis would go swaying off in the wrong direction, she would plunge downward again until her heavy body and rough mound would virtually disembowel me. I turned my head to watch Bridget as she sat panting with exhaustion in the chair. Her still-growing breasts were heaving mightily, and I noticed the fine red glow of her young nipples which tipped the white globes beautifully and delicately. The sight of her naked body served to enflame my senses further, and I renewed my fucking with a tremendous vigor.
Sitting naked, with her triangular bush in full view, she watched for a while as her mother's loins crashed upon my body; and then, her eyes aglow again, she came back to the bed and climbed on behind her mother. I could feel her naked body between my legs and felt her hot breath on my thighs as the girl worked her way up and up and up until she was actually touching my balls with her nose.
Her intentions became apparent when a tremendous thrill raced through my body from a new sensation on my penis. I looked down, and when my stepmother rose for another thrust, I saw what Bridget was doing. She was holding her tongue out as far as she could stretch it so that it slid along the side of my penis each time it was withdrawn. When we were joined, Bridget's tongue was working furiously on the lips of her mother's twat.
As if this were not enough to send me crashing over the precipice of paradise, I felt another grand sensation and realized that Bridget was also tickling my balls with the very tips of her fingers, then fondling them gently, lifting them and squeezing them.
All the while she fondled my balls, her tongue worked furiously on my plunging piston and on the flapping, squishing cunt lips of her mother. The tongue and lips also worked on the surrounding areas, tickling the sensitive strip between my cork and my anus, forcing me to buck and bounce fiercely.
I sank deeper and deeper into a blissful daze of only partial awareness, from which I periodically emerged to the full consciousness of all the millions of sensations that were being produced in my body. The activity varied only slightly, but it mattered little. Every part of my body was so hypersensitive that the girl could have kissed me on the shoulder with as much effectiveness as on my balls. The core of the furnace was, of course, in the region of my loins, and they were rapidly building to a tremendous pressure, which I knew must be soon released or the consequences would be explosive and far-reaching.
I also became aware of the gradually increasing rate of my stepmother's endeavors. As the pace grew, I found her body pounding mine with more weight and viciousness. Her gripping sex had become almost rough in its handling of my slim prick, and the effect was one of a bruising passion, a strong and brutal rendering from my soul of the juices of manhood. Brenda's grunts, groans, and obscene utterances were increasing as well, and I knew that it could not last much longer for either of us.
My passion rose alarmingly, nearly driving me both insensible and hysterical. My body cried out for release, and my numbed brain heard my grunts and moans as though through a highly effective system of baffles. The experience, which I had expected to continue for a little time, but had no idea that it would be prolonged into such a major project, was so fantastic that I could not believe it was happening or that I was the person involved in it. I seemed to be looking at the strange and provocative escapade as part of an audience, apart from it but emotionally involved in it. My head swam, and red flashes passed across my line of vision. My lungs felt as if a band of steel were being tightened around my chest, making breathing impossible, choking, suffocating me, driving me to near insanity with the fantastic sensations and emotions that seemed to invade my every nerve and fiber.
It was as though some gigantic machine was out of control and was working toward the final destruction of itself as well as its creators. With a tremendous upsurge, my passion leaped to the surface again and became a bubbling volcano.
And at long last, I felt the hot fluid boil out of my balls and rush up the thin line of my prick into the hot, receptive, plunging cunt. The woman felt it and responded as I had been certain she would. She came in a sudden spasm of agony that nearly tore my prick from its roots.
Our grunts and groans, our gasps and sighs, our vocal agonies of all types were untried in a complete furor of impassioned sounds as we squirmed in unison, our bodies jerking convulsively until, in a state of utter exhaustion, we fell back. My small, frail body was literally crushed by the weight of her naked woman-flesh, but my senses were by now numbed to dullness, and I lay content under her, wanting to sleep, wanting to ease into unconsciousness, wanting to die.
Finally, she pulled off me and stared in amazement at my wet and glistening penis. It was still erect, still as hard as a bolt.
"My God in heaven," she gasped. "This boy is a veritable fiend. Louis, can't anything bring that thing down?"
The answer was provided by the wholehearted fatigue of my entire body. As my senses continued to numb, my pecker began to soften until before her very eyes, it curled into a small circle over the top of my ball bag.
"And now, Louis," she said as she stood beside the bed in a state of total composure, "you have had a sample of what can happen to a boy who eavesdrops and who frigs himself while he looks into the bedrooms of ladies. I hope you have learned your lesson, and I trust that nothing of this will reach your father."
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her, at her great, heaving breasts, at the ungainly large section of hair around her female sex, at the wide expanse of her naked hips. The thought of relating the details of this insane episode to my father filled me with such revulsion that I was surprised that she felt compelled to ask.
"I won't tell him anything," I said. "And I've learned my lesson."
"And you won't eavesdrop any more? You won't peek?"
"No, ma'am."
"You be certain of it," she said, drawing herself up to full height and forcing her great tits to point toward the ceiling. "And you be certain that you don't slip and tell your father. If you do, just remember that there are two of us to disclaim your word. You would only discredit yourself in front of your father."
I knew that that was not so. My father would believe me because I had never lied to him. I never would. He knew nothing of my sexual escapades because he had never asked about them; he had never suspected, and I had no intention of volunteering anything. If he ever asked, I would tell him everything. And the same was true of what had happened here tonight. If Father asked if I had screwed my stepmother and stepsister, I would say, "Yes, Father, I screwed them both the same night in the same bed, and I also kissed my stepsister's pussy while I screwed my stepmother-all at the same time." If he asked me, that is exactly what I would tell him. And he would believe me.
"Now you must go to your room, Louis," my stepmother said. "It is late, and we must all get to bed. Tomorrow is another night, and we will probably want you to join with us in our game time. Would you like that, Louis?"
"Yes, ma'am," I lied. I would have liked to engage again with Bridget, but I wanted no more of the big, coarse, gross woman. There are some boys, I knew, who like older women more than they like young girls, but my yearnings had always been for the tender young flesh. As I was to later learn, it would always be that way.
CHAPTER FOUR
In the months to come, we repeated the wild and rollicking escapades each time Father went out of the city or country on business. It was the same each time-I thoroughly enjoyed the time I was actually humping with Bridget but loathed and deplored the moments when I had to plunge my growing pecker into the massive folds of my stepmother's gaping gash. Fortunately, they were sufficiently enamored of each other that I was not called upon to join them every night when my father was away.
On those nights, I would lie in my bed and listen to their moanings and thrashings in the next room, and I would bite on the corner of my pillow until sleep overtook me and my body and senses relaxed into blissful slumber.
Once, in the middle of the summer of my fifteenth year, Father took my stepmother with him on a trip to Paris and left Bridget and myself alone in the house with deaf and blind old Aunt Hattie. She thought of us as tiny children and kept shunting us off to one room or another to play while she sat quietly in the parlor with her knitting.
One extremely hot and humid night, when we were shunted off to bed, I enjoyed my first escapade alone with Bridget-that is, the first time without her mother in the room with us. I had gone off to bed, convinced that Bridget was not interested in any sexual games, that she was strictly a girl who did only what her mother insisted she do. But she surprised me. I had been in the bed no more than five minutes, and since we had not had a wild party for more than two weeks, I was fully erected and lay with my rampaging penis in my right hand. I was pondering the wisdom of jerking him off into my handkerchief, when I heard the soft rapping at the door that joined my room to Bridget's.
I got up in the darkness and unbolted the door from my side. I opened the door but could not see anyone in the blackness of the room.
"Is that you, Bridget?"
"Yes."
My hand reached out and touched naked flesh. I could not tell immediately which part of her anatomy I had touched, but a quick check revealed that it was her left breast.
"My gawd," I hissed through clenched teeth. "You're in the bloody nude."
She giggled. "May I come into your room?"
"Why don't I just come into yours?"
She pushed into my arms and clung to me. "I hate this room," she said. "I don't want us to do anything in there-ever again."
I felt the same way, but I was surprised at the degree of her distaste. I had thought she was so much in love with her mother that she would love anything her mother did or wanted to do.
"Is it because of what we've been doing?"
"Partly," she said. "Oh, Louis!"
And she was clinging tightly to me. Her body shook with spasmodic sobs, and wet, salty tears streamed against my face and down into my pajamas. I led her to the bed in the darkness and sat with her on the edge of it, my arm in a comforting gesture across her shoulders.
"I never knew anything else," she sobbed. "My mother taught me that loving her in that way was right and that I should want to love her that way-and that she would return that love. But I don't like it any more. I like you, Louis. I want to do things normally. I'm a girl and you're a boy, and that's the way God intended things to be-boys with girls and girls with boys. I don't think it is natural any other way, but Mummy keeps insisting that it is and that we should continue. Oh, Louis, I love you. What in the world am I to do?"
I was stuck. I hadn't the foggiest idea of what the poor girl could do. The rousing in my crotch told me that I had a temporary solution, and so I slid my hand down over her naked breast and began toying with the nipple. She kissed me and pressed the naked breasts into me, and before long I was naked with her.
We fell back on the bed, and she kept on crying while I made the necessary arrangements and worked my tool into her wet snatch. She cried when I started a steady plunging into her and kept it up even while her own buttocks were rising to meet me, stroke for stroke. We didn't go in for any wild play; we just kept humping and panting, and before long we both came in a most delightful way. We slept for a little bit, and when we awoke, we really went at it. I screwed her so hard that she complained of having a sore twat.
Finally, she went back to her own bedroom, and I tried to forget about her problems. But I couldn't. I was worried about my stepsister. She was a beautiful girl, and she deserved to have a good shake in life, not a bloody mess on her hands with her crazy mother. I decided to make the big sacrifice and to join them the next time her mother came to Bridget's room.
Three weeks later, Father went off on another business junket and, as could have been predicted, Brenda got the two of us together in Bridget's room that very night for another session. This time, though, it was different. She had a long bundle of something wrapped in brown butcher's paper, and she smiled like the eternal Cheshire cat as she watched us strip down to our nothings. When we were all naked, she went to the bundle and began to open it.
"I have a delightful surprise for you both tonight," my stepmother said.
"What is it, Mummy?" Bridget asked. Her body was shivering, and I had an idea that she knew what was in the bundle.
"Wait and see," Brenda said. "Remember what you did to me many, many months ago, after your father died? Remember that, darling?"
I looked at Bridget and saw that her face was beet red. She remembered, and she seemed not to want to remember. Brenda tore the paper from the bundle, and I noted with curiosity that it contained what looked like a dozen hickory canes. God on earth, I thought, what the bloody hell are those for?
"I am going to teach you two darling children something tonight," she said. "All children have natural curiosity, and I know that you want to learn about canings." She turned to me and slapped one of the canes in the palm of her hand. "Louis, did you ever see anyone whipped with a cane?"
"No, ma'am."
"Have you ever been thrashed with one?"
"No, ma'am."
"Have you ever been thrashed?"
"Yes, ma'am. Several years ago when I was particularly naughty, my father whipped me a little with his razor strop."
"Did it hurt?" Her face was brilliant with her smile, and I could tell that she enjoyed the conversation.
"Of course. But he only hit me a few times, so it wasn't really so terribly bad."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Criminee, no," I said. "Cod, I guess not!"
She walked up to me and pressed the curved enc m of the cane into my hands. Her enormous breasts touched my naked chest when she pressed the cane into my hands, and I could tell by the hardened nipples and her hot breath that she was already aroused.
"Tonight is your chance to get back," she said, winking. "Tonight you can get your revenge on adults by striking me with the cane. I want you to strike me every bit as hard as your father struck you with the razor strop. Will you do that?"
I was doubtful of the wisdom of doing such a thing, and this doubt must have shown in my face.
"It's all right," she said. "I'll simply bend over the end of the bed with my buttocks high in the air, and you can come down real hard with the cane. After that, Melody can take her turn. She's done it before-would you like her to go first to show you how it's done?"
I nodded, and Melody looked at me as though she could tear my tongue out. She backed away as her mother approached her with the cane. "Come now, dear," my stepmother said. "Don't be that way. You've struck me before, and you know exactly what to do. Come on now, Bridget, take the cane."
"Please, Mummy," the girl said. "Can't we just-just do what we always do? Why must we have the canes?"
Her mother pushed the cane at her and stared almost hatefully into her eyes. "Because I say we must!" she said. Her voice was firm and full of nasty authority. "Take the cane, or I shall lay it a few times across your own lovely ass."
Bridget took the cane but held it loosely in her hand. Her mother quickly flung herself across the end of the bed, her buttocks raised high in the air, her great breasts flattened onto the mattress. My erection had subsided slightly during the argument over the canes, but it now rose to full power when I looked down at the gaping, hanging pussy of my stepmother. Even though older flesh had no special attraction for me, I had grown so fond of screwing that the sight of any exposed twat made my tool spring to life and attention.
"Come on, Bridget," she said. "I'm ready. Lay the cane across my raised ass with all your might. Come on, child."
Brenda was breathing quite heavily now, and she kept looking back, like a mistress waiting for her lover to come join her in bed. She smiled sweetly and winked at Bridget in an attempt to lure the girl into an act that obviously repulsed her. Finally, she lost her composure again.
"Hit me, dammit!" she cried.
Almost by reflex action, the girl raised the cane and brought it down half-lamely across her mother's buttocks. The crack was barely audible, and it left no mark at all on the white, upraised flesh.
"Harder!" Brenda cried.
Bridget tied one into her, and the crack resounded sickeningly off the walls. I looked at my stepmother and saw that, even though she was smiling broadly, tears had squeezed out of her eyes.
"Very good," she said. "Excellent. And now three more about like that one-only harder."
Bridget raised the cane, ready for the strike. Her facial expression turned from determination to fear to horror and then to defeat. She dropped the cane to the floor and, with a loud sob, leaped to the floor beside the bed and grabbed her mother around the thighs from behind. She sobbed as she kissed the naked buttocks.
"Oh, Mother," she cried, "please don't make me do it to you any more. I love you, Mummy. I love you, and I don't want to hurt you. Please, Mummy, let's just make love the way we always have and forget ah about the canes."
Brenda turned violently in her anger, spinning the girl from her. Her right hand flashed, out and cracked the girl on the cheek. Bridget sat naked on the floor and sobbed as though her heart would break.
"You little tramp," the mother said. "How dare you be so cheeky with me! You will do as I say. Now, get off that floor and pick up that cane again. You will whip me, Bridget. You will give me what I need when I need it. Do you hear me?"
Bridget shook her head and continued sobbing. "No, Mummy," she cried. Her sobs were of mammoth proportions, and each time a great sob wracked her body, her firm young breasts bobbled enticingly. I wished the old hag of a stepmother would leave us to our own devices. My erection throbbed for the feel of Bridget, not to be witness to a thrashing with a miserable cane.
"All right," Brenda said, her lips and jaw set in determined anger. "Louis, help me get this naughty child onto the bed. If she won't whip me with the cane, I shall give her a taste of it."
I backed away, filled with horror at her suggestion.
"Come, Louis," the wicked woman said. "Help me get her off the floor."
"No," I said. "No, don't hurt her."
She glared at me and then at Bridget. Suddenly, her eyes widened in a sort of realization, and her face took on the look of an extremely wicked and insane woman.
"Aha," she said. "Now I understand. You two have been making love during my absence. You have been sneaking around behind things like a couple of dogs and fucking each other, haven't you?"
Bridget cried out loudly, and I stood staring at the hateful woman. She kept looking from Bridget to me, and I felt my heart begin to pound with a tremendous pressure in my chest.
"All right," she said at last. "I shall teach you both a lesson."
She picked up the cane and, without warning, lifted it and brought it down across Bridget's naked back. The crack was so loud that I was certain the insane woman had broken the girl's back. Bridget cried out like a hound that had been beaten by the fox. Instinctively, I ran to her aid and leaped up to grab Brenda's arm as the woman raised it for another blow. I crashed headlong into her and felt the warm flesh of her heaving tits against my face as we both fell in a heap upon the bed. The woman struggled, but I grasped her whipping arm with both hands and would not let go.
We wrestled vigorously on the bed, and as we rolled over and over, my erect penis kept slipping and sliding up and down in her crotch area. I tried to get the rascal inside in hopes that the feel of it in her soft vagina would halt whatever demons were possessing the woman, but I was unsuccessful. The woman was far stronger than I, and she succeeded in wresting her arm free. She leaped from the bed, leaving me there. I had started to get up to go after her again, when I heard the lethal swish of the cane and felt the bitter sting of it across the small of my back.
I yelped like a hurt puppy, and my hands went automatically to the injured area. That was my greatest mistake. As my hands probed the hurt spot, the cane was already on its way down. It cracked across my hands and arms, and I yelled again. This time the pain was more than mere sting. I felt a deep and throbbing pain in my left arm, and I knew that the bone was broken.
I started to shout this fact to the world in general-and in an unmistakably realistic tone-and the woman snorted her defiance and disbelief.
But it was enough to keep her from striking me again with the cane. She moved away from the bed, leaving me sitting there nursing my painful arm in my right hand. I rocked back and forth on the soft mattress, holding my arm and moaning loudly. I looked up in time to see the cane flying through the air again.
"No!" I cried.
Crack!
I was too late. The cane struck Bridget's back in almost the same spot as the first strike. Bridget screamed in pain and rolled over on her back, kicking up at her mother.
"On your stomach," her mother shouted. "Lie on your stomach or I'll whip your titties off."
I saw the terror in Bridget's eyes and the insane determination in her mother's, and I had the most distinct and horrifying feeling that I was about to witness a murder. I was convinced that the crazy mad woman was going to beat her daughter to death. If she did, she would then commence to do the same to me, because I would be the only witness to the dreadful act.
More in defense of Bridget than in concern for my own safety, I leaped from the bed and, in spite of the roaring pain in my arm, crashed into the fleshy body of my stepmother, knocking her to the floor beyond where Bridget lay. I quickly scrambled to my feet and knelt beside Bridget. I held her crying face in my right arm and looked up at Brenda as she came toward us, the cane raised high in the air above our heads.
"Don't," I pleaded. "Please don't. You'll kill her. You've already broken my arm, and I wouldn't doubt that you've broken her back."
I knew my pleas would go unheeded as I stared up at the menacing cane above our heads. I steeled my body to receive the blow and moved across Bridget so that it would not strike her again. I felt that my back was stronger and more able to absorb the angry cane. When the blow didn't come, I looked up to see why.
Brenda's face had frozen in a horrified expression, and she was staring at the door.
I turned quickly, and there was Father, his mouth wide-open, his eyes staring in disbelief at the scene. His mouth moved slightly, but no words came out at first.
"What-what in bloody hell is going on here?"
My heart cried out in thanks to him, but T, too, was unable to speak. My God, talk about being saved in the nick of time-and he was the last person I expected to see that night.
Suddenly, Brenda dropped the cane and started toward my father.
"Oh, George," she said in a sickeningly sweet he, "you just can't imagine the horrible thing I found these two doing just now. I simply had to punish them firmly or ... "
"You bitch!" my father shouted. "You filthy, evil, depraved BITCH!"
His mouth kept on working, but he was so angry that his voice died into silence. He had raised his hands to strike Brenda, but the great fists merely shook in spasms of frustration and anger. Brenda stopped a few feet in front of him and, remembering her nakedness, knew that there was no way out. She quickly gained her composure and looked back at Bridget.
"Get dressed quickly, Bridget," she said with amazing calmness. "It is easy to see that we are not wanted here."
Bridget still cried in her spot on the floor. I had stood up and wanted to run to my father, but I was ashamed to do so in my naked condition. He came into the room and looked around in what was obviously a painful experience for him.
"My God in heaven," he finally said when he saw the big bundle of canes. "What kind of an animal are you? Have you no sense of human decency? Have you no feelings!"
"Come, Bridget," my stepmother said.
My father had moved to the dresser where the canes lay in their torn butcher's paper. He selected one of the canes and hefted it several times in his right hand.
"Very solid canes," he said, wearily and sadly waving his head from side to side. "I suppose they could very easily break a bone."
I didn't want to tell him about my arm-not just yet. I wanted to see what he was going to do. He swung the cane up and down several times, listening to the wind whistle and swish around it. He looked at his naked wife, and I could almost see the wheels of revenge revolving in his head.
"Louis," he said quietly. "Gather up your clothes and take Bridget out of here."
"Bridget!" her mother snapped. "I told you to get up and come with me. We're leaving this house."
"You're going nowhere," Father said. "Not just yet."
I gathered up our clothing and helped Bridget to her feet. As we passed the naked woman, she glared at both of us. Bridget avoided the penetrating eyes and, still sobbing, allowed herself to be lead from the room. I knew that Father was going to give the woman a beating, but I rather hoped he wouldn't. The bitch, as he had called her, actually wanted a beating, and that was what the whole mess was all about.
I took Bridget to my room, where she collapsed crying on my bed. I examined her back and saw that she had two dark, ugly weals, side by side, across her back and shoulders. She had no broken bones, and surprisingly, even the skin was not punctured. I wanted to see what was going on in the next room, but I knew it would be dangerous to climb on top of the wobbly table again. My arm was already throbbing painfully, and a fall from there could very well break the blasted thing right off.
I took a water tumbler from my wash stand and pressed the open end of it to the door. I had learned the listening-device trick in school. Placing my ear against the bottom of the glass, I could hear almost every sound from the next room. It sounded as though they were talking into a barrel.
"I don't want to hear any lies about why you were beating those children," my father was saying, "or why you made them strip and exposed your horrible body to them. Don't tell me anything. I only know two things. One, I am going to give you some of what you were giving them. Two, when it is finished, I want you out of the house in one hour. If I ever see you again, you filthy bitch, I shall kill you."
"You call me filthy," she replied. I couldn't see her face, but I knew her sarcastic, evil expression well. "I could tell you a few things about that darling Louis of yours. Let me tell you-"
"Shut up!" my father snapped. "I won't have you spreading your filthy lies about my son or about your daughter. She stays with me until the court can resolve this matter. Meanwhile, you'd better get ready for a whipping."
There was a pause, then soft footsteps and the creaking of the bed.
"Just on the buttocks, please," I heard her say. Her voice had grown soft, pleading. Her indignant anger had left her, and from the tone of her voice, it was obvious to even me that she was looking forward to the expected whipping.
There was another long pause, and my father said, "I see. One of those. You think you're going to enjoy this, don't you? I can also see by the red marks on your filthy ass that you forced one of the children to cane you. Well, my lovely bride, you shall get yours." Crack!
There was no outcry.
Crack. Crack. Ker-ack!
Brenda cried out for mercy.
"Not there," she screamed. "Please, George, not so hard, you'll kill me."
"I heard the cracks you were giving those children all the way downstairs," he shouted above her pleas. "Thank God poor Hattie is nearly deaf or she might have heard and come to the rescue before I got here. What would you have done to her, beat her to death for interfering with your sordid pleasure?"
Crack!
He hadn't even waited for an answer.
The loud cracks and responding shrieks filled the room and came to me through the glass as though through a long tunnel. One part of me told me to get away from the door, but the more curious part of me forced me to stay. Bridget stirred on the bed behind me, and I knew that she could hear at least some of what was going on.
Crack. Crack. Crack!
They went on and on, and to my great surprise, I felt myself feeling sorry for the crazy woman.
And then they stopped. I listened for a long time, fearful that the sound of my breathing was being transmitted back through the glass into the other room. I heard the bed squeak again and knew that my stepmother had probably moved to her back. I kept my ear to the water glass and waited. Finally, her voice, soft and sexy, came through the tunnel.
"Come here, George," she cooed. "You know you want me, and that terrible beating has worked me into a terrible desire. Come here and put that great, sweet pecker of yours into my waiting pussy."
After another long pause, I heard Father's voice. "You want to be screwed after your little beating? Is that it? Is that the usual procedure?"
"Of course, darling. Oh, come now, George, there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for what happened tonight. Come here and make love to me-like we did on our honeymoon-and we shall talk about it. You'll see that what happened was perfectly innocent and understandable."
"So you really want to be screwed?"
"Oh yes, George. Yes, yes, yes."
There was another pause and I heard my lather's heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. My heart shriveled up and died when I thought of him giving her what she wanted. If he went to her, she would wrap him around her little finger and make up a fantastic he about the events that had gone on in the room. And nothing would have changed.
I listened for the telltale sound of his clothing being removed, but it didn't come.
"Are you ready?" his voice asked, soft and low.
"Oh yes, darling. Hurry. Sock it to me."
After another brief pause, my eardrum was nearly shattered by the loudest and most grief-stricken scream I have ever heard-before or since.
"Ooooaaaaawghhhh."
I hear my father's heavy footsteps move away from the bed, and I knew what had happened. He had rammed the hickory cane as far as he could up her waiting, wet, receptive pussy.
CHAPTER FIVE
Within a month, the beautiful young Bridget had got over the episode and had nearly recovered from the loss of her mother. When Father told what he had seen in court, the judges did not bother to bring either Bridget or myself in for questioning. Brenda, to her credit, did not bring all the sordid details out in court, partly because she did not want to indict herself. She still wanted to get her daughter back with her, and her only possibility was to be contrite and to ask forgiveness.
It didn't work. The court awarded Bridget to the custody of an aunt who was now traveling in India and who would return three months hence. Until that time, because the juvenile homes were no fitting place for a frightened young girl who had done nothing wrong, the court allowed her to stay in our home.
When Father left on business trips, he no longer left us in the charge of deaf old Aunt Hattie-he hired a professional nurse to come in. The nurse was big, strong, and rather handsome-and her hearing and sight were both perfect. Her name was Marcia Henderson, and except for an overwhelmingly mammoth bosom, she seemed a quite normal-looking and attractive person.
On the first day that I saw Marcia, as I peered down at the street from the hallway window on the second floor of our building, I believed that she was carrying a pillow in her dark suit coat. When she stepped from the carriage, I was certain that she was going to fall on her face from the sheer weight of her enormous breasts. When she turned, I realized why she had not fallen-her great buttocks seemed to protrude as far in back as her breasts did in front. She was almost perfectly balanced in that respect, and the overall effect was quite astonishing.
I remember my first thought: wouldn't it be delightful to see her in the raw-in a side view, of course? But I quickly dismissed the thought, because Marcia Henderson was at least thirty years old, and I had young Bridget to care for. And my penchant was and had always been for the younger flesh.
"This is Miss Marcia Henderson," Father said as he introduced her to Bridget and myself. We shook hands with her, and I liked her right off. She had extremely blue eyes, set wide apart, and a grand smile that warmed my heart when she turned it on me.
"Such a handsome lad and a lovely girl," she said, winning both our hearts immediately. "I think we shall get on right well."
"Thank you," we said in unison.
After dinner on that first day, Father announced that he would leave the following morning for Brussels. He would be gone his usual fortnight, but he assured us that we would be well cared for and that we had nothing to fear. He had already told the nurse about the horrifying experience with Bridget's mother-who had been placed in a hospital under the care of a brain doctor. She looked at us with a great deal of compassion and pity, and we squirmed uncomfortably under the look.
We were uncomfortable because we knew how much guilt was on our shoulders. That feeling of guilt had kept us apart during the long period of the court trial. But I had high hopes that Bridget would loosen up quite soon. She had been looking at me in a strange way in recent days, and I was certain that she was hungry for me-as I was for her.
The following morning, we went in the carriage with Father to the railway station where he was to get his train to Southampton. From there, he would go by boat to Le Havre and thence by railway to Brussels. I wanted to go with him, because I was curious about the Continent; I also wanted to stay, because my aching loins were curious to know if Bridget was ready for me.
Throughout the long, agonizing day, we played children's games in the parlor with Miss Henderson, and she exclaimed time and again what delightful children we were and marveled at how well we had recovered from our terrible experience. If she had only known!
At bedtime, she kissed us both on our cheeks and tucked us into our respective beds. When she leaned over to tuck the covers around my neck, I caught a good glimpse down the top of her dress and could scarcely believe my eyes. Although I was seeing only a small percentage of her breasts, I was looking at more tit than most women have altogether. I longed to at least place my erected animal between the great mounds of flesh, but I knew that it could never happen.
I waited for more than an hour, until I heard Miss Henderson mount the stairs and go into her own room at the opposite end of the hallway. My penis had already erected mightily from my own playing with it and my thoughts about Bridget. When I heard the nurse and thought again about the enormous titties, it throbbed almost painfully, and I knew that I at least had to see the great globes, even if it were impossible to touch them.
I slipped out of bed and eased out into the dark hallway. I could see the dim candlelight reflecting through the transom over her door, and I sneaked down the hallway to it. I pulled a chair from father's bedroom and situated it firmly in front of the nurse's door. I didn't want to take a chance on falling from a wobbly chair, as I had from the table in my room.
Slowly, I got onto the chair and was just barely able to see through the transom. When my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw Miss Henderson leaning over her washbasin, washing her face. She had taken off her long dress and stood iii her corset, long black stockings, and garter belt. My tool throbbed at the delectable sight, but I resisted the urge to encase the hungry beast in my hand. I needed both hands to steady myself on the chair, and I clung to the ledge beneath the transom.
She seemed to take forever to wash her face, but she finally finished and turned toward me as she dried. With her dress gone, I could see the immense expanse of white flesh above the line of her tight corset. I licked my lips at the sight and wished that she would remove the ridiculous garment so that I could feast my eyes on all of the enormous breasts. Almost as though my wishing had brought about the fact, she began to unlace the tight corset, and quite soon she was standing in her huge brassiere and long knicker-type panties. She slipped out of the panties first, and I was surprised that her bush was not the beastly creature I had known on other older women. It was merely a small triangle of auburn hair that glistened almost red in the candlelight.
Then she struggled with the brassiere, and I counted the seconds as I waited for the glory of those enormous jugs to be revealed to me. She turned sideways, and I saw that her buttocks were truly enormous and jutting. Suddenly the snaps came loose on her brassiere and the great globes dropped a tiny bit. The brassiere slipped away from her, and I let out a small gasp of pleasure and surprise. The brassiere seemed large enough to have made me a pair of baggy trousers.
But her bubbies! They were so large, they were positively unreal. She turned toward me again, and I saw them straight on. Her nipples were a dark pink and lay like precious stones on the ends of her giant lobes. In all my dreams and wild imaginings, I had never conjured up a set of boobs even half the size of these magnificent creations. She seemed to be made half of tits and half of other portions of her body. If the woman weighed a hundred and twenty, it was an easy guess that her titties weighed an even sixty.
She leaned over to take off her stockings, and the great breasts swung beneath her and seemed to expand with the pressure. My God, how big could they possibly get? I had never been over-fascinated with bubbies-they were wonderful playthings and provided a perfect companion to a good screw, but I had never looked at them as sexual entities in themselves. But the sight of those mammoth and perfectly shaped white monsters gave me a sexual amusement that brought a crystal-clear bead of sex juice to the head of my stanchion.
I could not resist it this time. I slid my hand into my pajamas, clutched the throbbing, aching, rampaging tiger, and, with a quick flurry of strokes, beat at it for a few seconds. I looked back inside the room and saw that Miss Henderson had reached for her nightie and was preparing to put it on. I hoped that she would not put it on or even go to bed-that she would just stand there by the light of the candle and allow me to feast my eyes on her naked titties for the rest of the night.
But she slid the nightie down over her head. Although it was a huge nightie and hung loose on her, it was not sufficient to allow her enormous breasts full rein. The thin silk material fairly clung to her bosom and outlined the dark pink nipples in their every detail.
Just as I was preparing to get down from the chair, Miss Henderson began walking toward the door. I thought she was going to take down the covers on the bed, but she did not stop at the foot of the bed. "Good Lord!" I croaked under my breath. "She's coming to the door!"
Before I could leap from the chair, the door opened and Miss Henderson was smiling up at me with that wonderful, compassionate smile.
"I hope you have enjoyed the show, Louis," she said softly. "Now come inside and explain yourself to me."
She put the chair back in Father's room while I waited for her. I stood stark still beside the bed and tried to will my erection to flaccidness. But it would not be deprived of its yearnings. When she came back, she closed the door and went quietly to the bed. She sat down facing me, and the scene was sharply reminiscent of the time when the maid, Melinda, had sat on her couch before me and had spread her legs to me.
"I'm waiting," Miss Henderson said. "Why were you peeking at me through the transom? Surely, a boy of your age cannot find anything interesting in seeing a woman dressing for bed. Why did you go to so much trouble?"
I lowered my head and stared at the floor. It had not occurred to me that a nurse would not know that a boy of fifteen was perfectly capable of having feelings of sexual yearning. Surely a nurse, of all people, would be aware of such a thing. Or was I an unusual case? I didn't know. All I knew was that older women-and even young girls-seemed to want to teach me things and I always made out far better if I let them have their heads.
"You poor child," she said at last, flashing that great beautiful smile again. "I guess none of us will ever know how much effect that horrible night with Bridget's mother had on you-and on Bridget. In spite of the horror of your beating, you must have gained some curiosity about the woman's body, and you came here to satisfy that curiosity. Is that it?"
"I suppose so," I said. "I don't know."
For the first time, she noticed the bulge in my pajamas. She stared at it for a long time and then looked into my eyes again.
"It has been a long time since I was fifteen," she said, "and I suppose I have forgotten what it was like at that age. All I remember is that I was almost fully developed at that time, and boys were always teasing me and pinching at me. I suppose that is why I never married. I grew frightened of boys because they always seemed so fascinated with my ... with my bosom. Are you fascinated by my bosom, Louis?"
I shrugged and tried not t o look at the enormous titties and the stark impressions of her dark nipples.
"I shall tell you something, Louis," she said. "I am thirty years old, and never once have I allowed a man to place his hands on my bosom. Many men have tried and have pinched me there, but never have I allowed a man to place his hand on my breasts in the interest of love. Do you believe that?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Do you also believe that I have never let a man do-do anything else to me? Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What am I saying?"
"That you're a virgin."
She smiled at me again and took my hands in hers. She deliberately rested her hands on her thighs and turned them so that my skin was touching the smooth silk of her nightie. I didn't know for certain what was coming, but I knew that something good would come of it.
"Can you keep secrets, Louis?" she asked. "So far, there has been nothing for either of us to be ashamed of, but I fear that I have reached the end of my rope. I knew you were out there in the hallway as soon as you came. I heard you get the chair from your father's bedroom, and I thought about stopping you then. But I began to think, and thinking is a dangerous thing sometimes. I thought of all the years that I have avoided men, been afraid of them. And I thought of your handsome, sensitive face and your large, trusting eyes. I thought of the way you haye smiled at me all day long. I am not afraid of you, Louis, although you are obviously a young man. Are you afraid of me, Louis?"
She raised her hands, and mine with them, until they were touching her jutting breasts. The feel of that soft flesh against my hands caused my dork to jerk under my pajamas, and I noticed her eyes drop and return quickly. Her lips began to tremble, and I knew that she had been telling me the truth. It was incredible and it was impossible, but this grown woman truly was a virgin.
"No, ma'am," I said. To let her know that I was telling the truth, I pressed my hands forward into her breasts. She opened her mouth and sighed, and I knew that I was going to score. Although she was older and I had this strange penchant for young flesh, the size of her breasts had drawn me to her. And now this new knowledge-the realization that she was a virgin-drew me even closer and I yearned for the feel of her virgin flesh against my hot, trembling body.
"Don't be afraid," she said in a hoarse whisper. Her voice was quavering from her own fear and nervousness. It was crazy. "We can stop at any time if you become frightened. Would you like to come to bed with me for a while?"
I wanted to leap onto her and bury myself between the fantastic titties. I wanted to lunge at her, to rip the thin silk from her body and ravage her as a full-grown man might take her. I wanted to pry her legs apart and ram my throbbing hard pecker into her virgin nest. I could hardly restrain myself from doing all those things, but I knew it would only frighten her and the whole thing would come to naught. So I nodded innocently.
"Would you feel better if I blew out the candle?" she asked in a kind, soft voice.
I looked around the room, pretending that I would be afraid of the dark. She got that message. What she didn't know was that I was burning so hotly to see those mammoth tits again that blowing out the candle would be akin to sacrilege.
Slowly, she unbuttoned the top of my pajamas and slid the cotton garment from my slender shoulders. She feasted her eyes on my bony frame, spotted with muscles here and there, and looked down at the bulge in my pajama bottoms again. Her nurse's training helped overcome her sexual apprehensions, and she pulled the drawstring and the pants fell to my ankles. She gasped at the sight of my cork, which was growing more and more every day and, as I was to later learn, was already slightly bigger than the average tool. Her hands reached out tentatively, and I knew that if she touched it, it would be difficult to get her away from it. And I wanted her naked before we started.
"Can I remove your nightie?" I asked, averting my eyes in mock shyness.
She smiled again, and I knew she had been too shy to suggest it herself-or even to do it herself. She stood up before me, was greatly relieved that I had taken this small initiative. I lost no time in grasping the hem of the long, sheer nightie and pulling it up along her white, shapely frame. When I uncovered her small auburn bush, I thought about thrusting my face into it and licking at the lips that I knew were hidden there. But it would betray more knowledge than I was supposed to possess, so I resisted the urge and went higher with the nightie.
The material balked when I reached the great, jutting breasts, and I tugged harder. One big breast nipped free and bounced in front of my eyes. I felt my hard pecker jerk against her thigh, and I was beside myself with desire. I wanted to insert the hungry jack into her obviously willing pussy while I completed the task of removing her nightie, but I contained myself. All good things come to him who waits, or something like that.
When the nightgown had been taken over her upraised arms, she pulled me gently into her arms, pressing her entire body against me, from shoulder to toes. The marvelous breasts flattened delightfully against me and felt, indeed, like a soft flesh pillow that had been thrust between us. I began to fear that my fascination and preoccupation with her tits would prevent me from attending properly to the real source of her offered delights.
When we fell back onto the bed, I lost my head completely and buried my face in the great white mounds. My lips kissed every inch of her tits as she moaned in ecstasy and closed her soft hands over my rampant pistol. I took her giant nipples into my mouth, one at a time, and sucked so hard that she began to squeal out, partly in pain, partly in delight. I wanted to continue the play, to build us both up to fever pitch, but I knew how it had been the first time for me-I had plunged quickly into Althea-and I knew that it was always expected of virgins to be so eager and untried that they could think of nothing but copulating quickly.
And then came the decision as to how to get the bugger into her virgin hole. If I guided it in, she might guess that I had prior knowledge of such matters. And it was obvious that I could not depend on her to be expert. I deliberately raised my buttocks and allowed my prod to probe around in the auburn bush until it struck the soft, wet meat of her vagina.
She gasped and gripped my lean back so hard that I thought she was going to break me in two. And then the hungry animal seemed to find his own way, and I felt the flared helmet of my pecker insinuating itself into the tight channel. She had not been lying-she was a virgin in every sense of the word. She squealed and she moaned and she bucked and she panted and then actually began to cry as the throbbing monster would not be denied access to her untried territory.
I pushed harder with my hips and, with a final surge of power, drove him in to the hilt. She gasped when my sword reached its hilt. I was more than delighted with the situation. For the first time in my life, I was screwing an older woman and enjoying it. Her older flesh did not repulse me or cause goose pimples to form on my skin. I imagined that she was only thirteen and was merely overdeveloped for her age. It was easy, because she acted like a girl of thirteen, a shy, retiring, but willing girl.
We lay for some moments in that position until the pain had subsided in her vagina. I busied myself with sucking on her nipples and rubbing my hands over the vast expanses of her titties. It occurred to me that we had not yet kissed, and I raised my face to hers and placed my lips against hers. Her lips were soft but closed, and the first kiss was somewhat flat. I parted my lips slightly and ran my tongue over the outer edge of her lips, and they parted. I kissed her hungrily, passionately, and in a few seconds, she was responding in kind. It was positively incredible to be teaching a thirty-year-old woman, and a nurse in the bargain, how to make love. Perfectly incredible, but true!
When I was certain that the soaking of our organs had eased the pain and had fully lubricated her love tunnel, I pulled out until only the knob of my dork was inside the lips of her vagina. With a shy look on her face, she raised her head and looked down between her enormous breasts at our union. She gasped at the sight and threw her head back onto the pillow in the classic look of agony and ecstasy.
I plunged forward, driving my animal in to the hilt once more, and she gasped.
"Oh, my little Louis," she cried. "Oh, my sweet, wonderful little boy with the beautiful smile."
I started up a steady screwing and knew that my long weeks without pussy would cause me to come quickly. At first I drove at her slowly, as a novice might, and she responded awkwardly, driving her buttocks up sharply at one time, dragging them up slowly at the next.
To help matters along, I shoved my hands under her and cupped the great ass, pulling it to me as I plunged downward into her tight, gripping, juicy cunt. She gasped at the feel of my hands on her buttocks. She was he best I had ever had, mainly because her enormous buttocks provided an excellent prop and cushion for her mouth. Her pussy was high, and I was able to plunge every millimeter of my cock into it without having to fight with her thighs. I dropped heavily, enjoying the grinding crunch of our pelvic bones as we came together. Then I withdrew just as quickly, timing my upward thrust perfectly to keep from uncunting.
Finally, she pulled out all the stops.
"Oh, my God, my darling Louis, my darling boy," she cried. "Oh, fuck me. Do it to me. Kiss my titties. Bite my titties. Fuck my pussy, you darling boy, slide that great prick in and out of my poor pussy. Oh, my God, why have I waited so long and read so many books about this? Oh, my God, my Louis, fuck me, it is so good!"
My premonitions about premature ejaculation had been correct. I wasn't even halfway through a normal screw before I felt the sperm boiling in my ball and knew that I couldn't last more than a few more strokes.
Well, I would make those count, and if necessary I would continue humping the delicious puss until the juices were ready to boil again. I increased my tempo, while my tongue probed her mouth and sought hers. They met and intertwined, and her legs came up around my back, squeezing, pressing, pumping.
I came in a great burst of pent-up steam, and the hot spunk jetted into the virgin twat. She jerked mightily under me, and from the pressure of her legs and the cries that came rolling out of her throat, I knew that she was coming too. She jerked again and again as her spend thundered out of her in roll after roll after roll.
Finally, we lay in a molten heap on the bed with my narrow chest buried deep in the hollow of her gigantic breasts. My arms and legs collapsed like limp buggy whips, and I lay in her auburn saddle like a sleeping traveler. She caressed my face and smoothed my curly blonde hair with her soft hands, and her voice hummed a lovely melody in my ears. In spite of her awkwardness and lack of ability, I knew that I would have to count this as the best-or second-best-piece of tail I had ever experienced. She was even better than Althea-and that was going a far piece.
But it was not over, not entirely. After a long moment of relaxation, she raised her head and kissed my soft hair.
"Louis," she said in a whisper, "I hope you won't think me terrible, but I have read a great number of books about this and what people do. I'm sorry that I was not very good at it, but you were very good, and I hope you will remember this first one as I will remember it. What I would like to do now I have never done, of course, but I have read of it. Will you indulge me and not think terribly of me?"
"Of course," I said. "What is it?"
She couldn't tell me, in her shyness, but she demonstrated. She pushed me from her, and laying me back on the bed, she got to her knees beside me. The great, hanging breasts touched my stomach and caused my still-erect tool to jerk again. Suddenly, she dropped her head to my pubic region and, clasping my dork with both hands, rammed the throbbing knob into her mouth. Her tongue lashed my animal, and as her mouth slid down the length of my tool, I realized that she was licking me clean.
The sensation was phenomenal. The nurse kept at me with her tongue and her lips until all the evidence of our lovemaking had disappeared from my penis and balls. Then, deciding that she had liked the feel of the knob between her lips, she returned there and began a tremendous sucking and tonguing that left me weak and dizzy. As she continued, though, the juices began to stir once again in my loins.
Of course, she was not aware of this at first, and feeling slightly foolish at her actions, she withdrew from my aching tiger. I grasped both hanging nipples and thrust my buttocks upwards, close to her lips. She got the message and plunged the knob back into her mouth. While I worked on her hanging breasts, she kept up the kissing, sucking, tonguing, and slobbering on my tool until I was once again near climax.
Suddenly, she began a stroking motion with her head, drawing a large portion of my shaft between the wet, pressing lips. I could feel the velvet tip stroking against the soft part of the back of her mouth each time her head lowered and the ecstatic sensation of her lips on the sides of my tool when her head raised.
I blasted off quickly, firing staccato bursts into her mouth. I fully expected her to leap back and to let the second charge of spunk arc into the air, but she stayed with me, sucking every drop into her mouth and swallowing it in great, delighted gulps. When she was satisfied that nothing more was to be offered, she lay back on the bed and pulled my head to her breast once more.
"I hope you don't think me terrible, Louis," she said. "But I want to remember this night for the rest of my life, and I know that what I just did will help me not to forget a single detail. You do understand, don't you?"
In the days that followed, my life took a radical turn for the better. After several weeks without any sex at all-other than my own now unsatisfactory and unsatisfying manipulations-I was suddenly plunged into a pure Mecca of love. Bridget finally came out of her doldrums and began creeping into my bed long after the apartment was quiet. And every chance she got, Miss Henderson was inviting me to her room, where with each episode she became bolder and bolder and our lovemaking sessions became so powerful and encompassing that I literally began to fall in love with her.
Because of the insane actions of her mother, Bridget was reluctant to show any wildness in her actions, so my sessions with her were brief and sweet. With Miss Henderson, it was quite another story and she seemed keen on trying something different and wilder and more violent each time I went to her room. One warm evening, she got out all of her imagine underclothing and put on a regular fashion show for me, dressing and undressing before me in the manner of a strip-tease artist.
When we had tried almost everything we could jointly think of, she brought out her books-those badly printed creations which cannot be sold on the open market and are circulated privately from person to person-and we read of the escapades of others and, as best we could, imitated them.
Father came home for three weeks and then, typically, took right off for another business junket to Stockholm. On this trip, he would be gone for a full month, and that left us loads of time to bone up on every possible sex act in the books, so to speak.
But there was one thing we had not done-one thing that had been in the back of my mind ever since I first saw the buxom woman at the curb getting out of the carriage in front of the apartment building. I wanted to screw her between the breasts. I had already humped her in the posterior section and had learned that she loved it tremendously. And she had taken me in her mouth so many times that it was becoming mundane.
I broached the subject one evening, and she seemed surprised.
"Why, Louis," she said, "how could you possibly do that?" .
"I don't know," I said. "I've never done it. But I would dearly love to try if you're willing."
She was willing, but I knew that it would not be a satisfactory arrangement for her. To pay the piper, I prepared her for the session be pressing my face into her perfumed, furry thatch and kissing the ruby lips of her vagina. Once I got started, I decided that I liked it and began probing the interior with my tongue. She humped and bucked and thrashed all over the bed. I kept at her, probing deeper and deeper with my tongue and pressing my lips and tongue against all the areas of her labia. She finally spent, and I left her aching twat and moved my lips up across her body to the gigantic mounds.
After a great deal of kissing, sucking, and pulling on her nipples, I straddled her stomach and placed my cork in the hollow of her breasts. Then I grabbed the great globes and pressed them together until my tool was completely hidden from sight. She looked down at her own titties and saw that my instrument was gone. She laughed and threw her head back with delight. She even helped by pressing her breasts together more tightly with her hands.
I pushed my body forward, and the reddish tip of my dong appeared at the top of her cleavage.
"Look," I said. "A peeping Tom."
She gazed down at the one-eyed lance and blew it a kiss. I pulled him back into the flesh cavern and then began a slow and steady screwing motion in the soft, makeshift channel. Strangely, I found the sensation to be a very good one. In a very short time, I was riding her as energetically as I would have if my dork had been buried to the hilt in her pussy.
As I gained momentum and as the passions rose in my body, I began to realize something else-something that heightened my pleasure and brought me nearer the bursting point. When I came, I realized, the pearl-colored sperm would have nowhere to go but right into her dear, sweet, smiling face. The thought of my come shooting into her pretty face brought me a sensation that I had not known before. I wanted to see it. I wanted to see the surprised reaction on her face.
I continued the rough fucking of her breasts, and when I was almost at climax, I shouted, "Get ready, dear Marcia. You're going to get a load in your face."
To my great and delighted surprise, the idea appealed to her and she raised her head to look down at the appearing and disappearing head of my active dong. She opened her mouth and made her lips into a small O to catch the impending shower.
When it came, it came erratically, and I could not keep from jerking spasmodically and unevenly. The stream jetted from between the great mounds of her tits. Part of it hit the target of her mouth, but most of it sprayed her entire face, splattering against her cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead; it hung from her eyelashes and eyebrows and streaked down onto her smooth, milk-white throat. The sight was so magnificent to me that I felt a second burst coming. It shot forth and disappeared into her open mouth. I squeezed my legs together, against the mammoth mounds of her tits, in an effort to bring everything out. But she was ready for me. She pulled me forward and plunged my spent cock into her mouth and sucked the remaining fluid from the channel.
For a woman who had waited so long for sex, she was more than making up for lost time. She took to sex like a duck to water or a hound to hunting-and she was just as good at it as they at their natural vocations.
In the days and nights that followed, I worked out a schedule with the two females that kept me occupied for at least five out of every seven nights, with an occasional accidental matinee thrown in. I began to wish that Father would fall in love with Miss Henderson and marry her, then adopt Bridget. My future would be assured.
But alas, good things rarely go on indefinitely, and the following spring Miss Henderson announced her engagement to a certain Henry Sparks of Soho. I was shattered by the news. She had never told me about Henry; in fact, she had never mentioned a boyfriend at all. Although I had wondered where she went on her days off, I had never guessed it could be a boyfriend.
She recognized the shock and disappointment and that very night came to my room to get me. Father was in the house, so we had to be extremely careful that he did not hear us. We crept quietly back along the corridor to her room and, still in darkness, closed the door to her room. I felt for her, and she folded me into her arms. My skin crawled at the delightful sensations caused by the silk nightie and the soft feel of her great breasts against my chest. I erected at once and began probing the tough silk in her pubic region.
"Are you jealous that I'm getting married?" she asked bluntly.
"No," I bed. "You can do what you wish."
"But you are jealous. I can tell by the look on your face. I'm sorry I haven't told you before, Louis, but I didn't think you would really care. I met this gentleman three months ago and have been seeing him regularly since then."
Her hands slipped into my pajamas and found my erect member. I explored her great buttocks with one hand and massaged her giant breasts with the other. I was truly going to miss her fantastic body.
"I suppose a little," I finally admitted. "I know I shouldn't be, and I know that I don't mean anything to you, but ... "
"But you do mean something to me, Louis," she said. "When I am married, I want you to come see me often. We can still be friends."
I knew it was none of my business, but I had been thinking on one subject ever since she had announced her coming marriage. I pulled one breast up in my hand so that I could kiss the nipple through the fine silk, then looked into her eyes in the darkness.
"Have you and Henry Sparks ever ... I mean, has he ... ? "
"No, he hasn't," she said with a low chuckle. "He is a gentleman and, heaven forbid, he thinks I am a lady. Oh, I'm certain he doesn't expect a woman of my age to be a bleeding virgin, but he has no idea I am having regular t�te-...-t�tes with a fifteen-year-old boy."
I was greatly relieved and wanted her even more at that point. I gently pushed her toward the bed in the dark room, my rigid tool jerking and aching from desire. I wanted to have her mouth, her twat, and her breasts all at the same time. I would break her in quite well for good old Henry Sparks. She lay back on the bed and pulled me directly on top of her. I wriggled my body on her and seemed to squish down into her soft, waiting body. We were still in our nightclothes, but she had extracted my tool from my pajamas, and the hungry animal slipped and slid on the smooth silk as I poked at her sex with it.
The room was filled with familiar, crotch-warming sounds as my body rolled on hers and our hands explored each other. I found the great expanse of silk quite pleasurable to my touch, and in a sudden flurry of excitement, I ripped off my pajamas and threw them to the floor. I was lying naked on the silk now, and I wondered what it would be like to be inside the nightie with her. The feeling would have been sensational, what with the feel of her smooth body on one side of me and the sensual touch of the silk on the other. But it was impossible-she filled the nightgown to brimming with her monstrous tits, and there was no room for me. Unless ... Unless, I thought, I was able to fit between them.
I lifted the hem of her nightie and poked my head under. After kissing her thighs and pubis for a few moments, I pulled the nightgown material up and slid my head up along her stomach. She giggled and asked what on earth I was trying to do. I told her I was going to get inside the nightie with her, and she almost laughed out loud.
But I continued on my course, and when I reached the mighty titties, I forced my head between them. She opened the buttons at the top of her nightie and my head finally came peeping through. My head was at the level of her chin, and I forced my way on and on until our lips were touching. It was a marvelous feeling, although the material was almost painfully tight across my back.
"My God," she said, still chuckling at me, "you'll split the material in such a loud report, it will be heard all up and down the street."
I didn't care. All I knew was that the sensation of being inside the nightgown with her was unbearably beautiful. I raised my buttocks slightly, feeling the soft material rub against my ass, and inserted my tool into her soft, waiting vagina. She gasped, as she always did, and I didn't hesitate as I usually did. I rammed the animal all the way in, and she bucked like a horse when he struck but-tom.
"My, you are in a vast hurry tonight," she said. Her arms were folded over my back on the outside of her nightgown. She caressed my back and then my buttocks. "The only trouble is," she said, "how are we going to do it? You can't move enough to really make it a good one."
She was right. It had been a good experiment, but I wanted to ravage this woman tonight. For all I knew, it would be my last time before she went off to marry her stupid Henry Sparks. I slid back along the delightful route and helped her out of the nightie. When she was completely naked, she sat up and took my tool into her mouth. Her hands cupped my balls, and she seemed about to finish me off when I pulled away and bent over her body with my face just above her gaping puss. She was always ready for me to kiss that, so she lay back and forgot about sucking my dong for the moment.
"I feel like doing something terribly wicked tonight," I said. "I think we've done everything we could except possibly one."
"What is that?" she asked.
"The soixante-neuf position," I said. "It isn't really so terribly wicked, but I can't think of anything else."
I had to explain that position to her, and she was delighted with it. I explained further that we could make it more exciting by screwing each other until our juices were fairly boiling, then switching quickly to the favored position. In that way, we would be in great prime for the act and, to favor her penchant for licking me clean after a toss in the bed, she would kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. She was thoroughly agreeable.
But I had to lay my throbbing dork once again between those great, lovely globes. I placed him in the hollow, and we both squeezed the breasts against him until he was completely out of sight. I made several thrusts between her titties, and as he came out at the top, her mouth was waiting for him. Just the knob went into her mouth, but that was enough to set me afire with passion.
In a quick motion, I pulled out of the breast-pussy and flopped on top of her soft body. I raised my buttocks threateningly, and with unerring aim, she guided my Schwartz to her wet and ready puss. Once again, I plunged in to the hilt without waiting for various preliminaries. As I dabbled back and forth in a slow and gentle manner with my tool, my hands crossed the expanse of her gleaming white buttocks and found her tiny hole. I rammed my middle finger into it, and she almost cried out in surprise and sudden pain.
My lips found hers in the darkness, and her lips parted readily to accept my tongue. I rubbed my chest against her mounded bubbies and felt that I had truly found the secret to happiness and success in life. I raised and plunged into her still-tight pussy and felt the passions rising in waves throughout my body.
Then, when the time was ripe, I said, a little too loudly, "Now!"
We scrambled away from each other, and I reversed my position on the bed. As my face plunged into the wetness of her crotch and I smelled the strong, heady odor of her aroused twat, I felt her lips and tongue on my dripping pecker. I buried deeply into her snatch and licked away the fluids that had erupted from our lovemaking. Then my tongue set to enflaming her clitoris and the inner depths of her pussy, alternately, indiscriminately.
She took a great deal of me into her mouth after she had licked the entire length of my staff and my now-airy balls. Her hands gripped my buttocks, and I could feel the pressure of her great titties on my stomach and chest. Suddenly her legs came up around my head, and I felt as though I would be delightfully suffocated with love.
Our preliminary screwing had brought me nearly to fever pitch, and it took very few plunges into her wet and delicious mouth for the juices to begin their rumbling boil in my balls. I knew that I was a twat-hair's width from coming, and I raised my head to tell her so. She said that she, too, was nearly at the apex of desire.
I buried my face once again in her heaving, sucking pussy and let my buttocks rise and fall slowly as my cock plunged almost brutally into her mouth and throat. She was sucking mightily, and I could feel the pressure of her lung power all the way up into my stomach. I was in a special kind of heaven just then. Here I was, only fifteen years of age, and I had been indulging in conjugal sex for three years. Although I had specialized in very young girls and had abhorred my escapades with older women, I was finding endless delights with Miss Marcia Henderson, in spite of her thirty years. I knew it was the monstrous tits and her virginity that had swung the tide.
I felt the pressure reach the ultimate, and then, in a glorious burst of ecstasy, my spunk roared out of me and began jetting in bursts into her mouth. Her body bucked violently, and I knew that she was near the end.
And then it happened.
I heard the door open and saw the shaft of light that was almost brilliant in the darkness of the room. I looked up even as my instrument was still firing into the woman's expert mouth and saw the imposing silhouette of my father standing in the doorway with a lighted candle.
Within ten minutes, I was locked in my room while my father dealt with poor Marcia Henderson. In spite of my pleadings with him and my admission of all guilt, he had not listened to me. He had merely forced me to quickly put on my pajamas and had led me to my room and locked the door. Then he had walked back down the corridor to where I knew that Miss Henderson sat quivering in terror in her room.
She was not in the apartment when Father came for me the next morning. He had me dress in my best clothes, and we went downstairs to breakfast. Bridget was there, and she was gay and cheerful, obviously unaware of the cloud of scandal that hung over me and the entire apartment. Within minutes, though, she was curious about why father and I were so quiet and our expressions so glum. I hoped to get her aside after breakfast and to talk to her, perhaps to make the whole thing seem less disastrous than it was. I knew that rumors would somehow start, and these are always much worse than the truth.
After breakfast, Father took me with him to my room, where we packed all my belongings into two wicker suitcases. I thought for a moment that he was going to throw me out of the house, to fend for myself. I said nothing. I remembered the wrath he had displayed with my stepmother, and I wanted to do nothing-to say nothing-to incite that wrath upon me.
I saw Bridget only once more as we left the house and got into the carriage my father had waiting. She looked out from the upstairs hall window and waved to me as the carriage pulled away. She was more puzzled than I, but only because she didn't know what had happened the night before. The carriage went directly to the railway station, and my father went to the ticket window while I stood by with my suitcases. He returned with a long ticket in his hands.
"Louis," he said, looking at me with the sad and painful expression he had carried since the incident in Miss Henderson's room, "I'm afraid that somehow I've failed you. Being alone without a mother has created some rather unusual problems. I am convinced that the problems are not of your making, but I also realize that a boy your age must have begun to feel certain awakenings, certain feelings. Isn't that true?"
I looked down at the dirty station floor. "Yes, Father."
"I knew it," he said. "Unfortunately, I have made some rather bad choices in the females I have brought into the house, and they have led you astray. Therefore, you can understand why I am reluctant to try another nurse or maid or governess or what have you. It could lead to a similar disaster, and we don't want that, do we?"
"No, Father."
"As much as it pains me," he went on, avoiding my eyes, "I must send you away where you will be cared for properly and where there are no depraved women to contribute to what must already be fairly powerful yearnings."
My mind immediately thought of prison. Or, even worse, a boys' school.
"Where are you sending me, Father?"
"I sent a messenger last night," he said, "so that you will be expected. You will be met at the railway station when the train arrives there. I want you to behave yourself, Louis, and not give your Aunt Lois any problems."
"You mean ... you mean you're sending me to Chesterton Manor?"
He looked down sadly.
"I know it is better for us to be together, but I shall be able to visit you once in a while, and when you are finished with normal school, I think it would be well for you to attend a university on the Continent. Until then, I am afraid that I cannot provide you the kind of life a young boy should have. You don't mind living with your Aunt Lois, do you? She will be much like a mother to you and ... "
He rambled on, apologizing, stumbling around for excuses, trying to make it sound as though life at Chesterton Manor would not be all bad, that there would be rays of sunshine here and there and that Aunt Lois really and truly loved me and all that. But I had stopped listening. I retained the look of sadness and tragedy on my face, but my heart and mind were celebrating joyously.
I would see Althea. I would live with Althea. Oh God, I thought, all wrongdoers should be punished in this manner. Oh God, I thought, my prison was going to be my heaven ...
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YEARNINGS BOOK TWO: THE MAN
CHAPTER ONE
It had been so long since that delightful train and carriage ride to Chesterton Manor that my mind balked at specific memories and the intervening years blended into a sort of charmed harmony of life that defies such segregation. Suffice it to say that I spent three deliriously happy years with my Aunt Lois and my cousin Althea. One of the most delightful parts was in learning, after I had been at Chesterton for a year, that Althea was not really my cousin. She had been adopted years before, as an infant, by my Aunt Lois and Uncle Harold, long since dead.
When Althea and Thad had both learned this, our lovemaking sessions became more frequent and more avid. Fortunately, we were lucky and the beautiful girl never became pregnant from our careless and carefree flings. I was to learn later that she was almost incapable of become pregnant.
Following the university of Zurich, Althea and I married and settled down to live in London. Fifteen years ago, she did become pregnant and delivered me a baby daughter, a fine, sweet young infant we named Nancy, after a sister of my father who had died as a child.
The years were good to us, however. We lost Father and Aunt Lois to the grim reaper, but all in all our fives were happy, content, and healthy. Nancy grew to a splendid youth with all her mother's physical and mental charms.
But when I passed my fortieth birthday, strange changes come over me and I was no longer satisfied with my usual fortnightly episodes with Althea. She was still as good as ever, but my mind had begun to cringe at the thought of touching her flesh, at entering the older and well-used tunnel of her sex. I knew I was at the dangerous age, but it was a very strange dangerous age-I wanted younger girls, not just an affair with another woman.
Althea still retained much of her attractiveness and beauty; in fact, she had improved in some ways. In all our years of marriage, I had not cheated on her, even during my long sojourns to the Continent. I had gone into the same business as my father, and happily, I was able to roam about the beloved Continent to my heart's will.
My first chance for a really good extramarital affair came when Althea needed a small operation and was to be in a hospital for two weeks. I thought of her returning to the large, seven-room flat in Battersea and knew that she and Nancy would not be able to care for it alone. We could easily afford a maid, but Althea, knowing my strong inclinations toward sex, had not allowed another woman in the house. But this time, I had the perfect solution. I confronted her with my proposition.
"Look, darling," I said from the chair beside her hospital bed. "I know you haven't wanted us to have a maid in the house all these years, but you can't come home after this operation and care for our huge apartment."
"We don't need a maid," she said. "I manage quite well, and as soon as I'm a bit stronger, it will be quite unnecessary. Besides, Nancy can help me a lot."
In the end, I persuaded her. The major point of my persuasion proved to be the major point of my desires.
"All right," I said. "I think I know one reason why you do not want a maid in the house, even though we can easily afford two or three. You're afraid I will become attracted to her. Although that is pure poppycock, let us compromise. There are a number of young girls in the city who hire out as domestics because their families need the money and can't afford to keep them in school. They are strong young girls and are quite accustomed to caring for large apartments and houses. Nancy has not been trained in domestic duties, and the two of you cannot keep up the house properly in view of your operation. Why don't we hire one of these children-say a girl of fourteen or fifteen-to do the chores?"
She thought of it a moment, then seemed happy that I had come up with such a delightful solution. She had really wanted a maid, but her mind had been thinking in terms of a woman in her twenties or thirties, a matronly woman who would charm me right into her bed. If she only knew!
As soon as Althea returned from hospital, I contacted an agency and, stating my requirements, asked them to send a few girls around to the flat for interviews. The first to come was a dark Spanish girl who not only had. thick legs, but was Catholic and therefore unavailable to me for my purposes. She was also quite ugly, and I was fearful that Althea would select her.
Fortunately, her English was quite bad and she smelled strongly of body odor. I let Althea dismiss her on the basis of these obvious faults. Next came a Swedish girl who would have suited me fine, except that she did not want to sleep in.
She lived with her aged mother and would also have to take three days off each week to care for her. Again, I let Althea make the decision.
The third girl was perfect in every respect. She was French, and her name was Eclair. She said she was sixteen, but I later learned that she was only fourteen, witch made it even more perfect. She was slim and fair, with long blonde hair, which fell below her shoulders. She had strangely enigmatic eyes and a soft and lovely set of bubbies under her full peasant blouse.
Even though my heart thumped wildly during the interview and I felt my cork erecting as I studied the girl's fine and beautiful features, I remained in the background, allowing Althea to conduct the interviewing. If she turned her down, though, I was resolved to seek the girl out at her home and to have her before the week was out. She was positively ravishing, and the longer the interview continued, the hotter and hotter I got-and the more determined I became to screw this young French lass.
"How much time off would you want for your studies?" Althea asked.
"Not so much time," she said in halting English. "I would want to study English and French history and mathematics. But I have ah my books, and I can study at night in my room. It will not take time away from my duties."
"You seem to be eager to learn, my child," Althea said. "What does your father do?"
"He is a barrister."
"A barrister! My word, why on earth would a barrister's daughter be seeking a job as a domestic servant?"
Eclair looked down sadly at the floor. Her fingers had been nervously twisting a small silk handkerchief, and she threatened to tear the material into two pieces.
"My mother and father were divorced many years ago," she said. "My mother died, and I do not want to live with my father. He is in Paris. Fie sends money to my foster home to care for me, but I shall never join him. He..."
I was certain that she was going to reveal something excitingly scandalous, but Althea stopped her.
"I see," she said. "And you do not mind house-work, preparing meals, cleaning the floors, and such?"
She smiled, and it was the most innocent and charming and devastating smile I had ever seen. My erect tiger jerked painfully under my thick trousers, and I thanked the stars that I was able to cover his prominence with my smoking jacket.
"I do not mind," she said. "It keeps me occupied and makes me think less of my problems. I am not happy in my foster home, madame, and I would welcome the chance of living and working in such a warm and comfortable apartment. Besides, I could save my money and someday return to Paris to study law."
Althea looked at me, and I could tell by the tiny smile at the edges of her mouth that she was pleased with this girl. Not only would Eclair be a good and happy worker, but we would be contributing to her welfare, education, and entire future.
"What do you think, Louis?" she asked.
I pursed my lips, pretending to be considering the matter with some degree of doubt. I looked at the girl and deliberately made my voice dull and seemingly uninterested when I asked, "Have you done housework before?"
"Oh yes, m'sieur," she said. "In fact, at my foster home, I am practically a full-time maid. They require me to do most of the housework as a condition of my living with them."
Bloody bastards, I thought.
"All right," I said, looking at Althea. "That cooks it. I had no reservations, really, but if I had, that would have taken care of them. If you wish, Eclair, you can move in with us immediately. You will be well paid for your work, and you will be able to save all the money sent by your father."
In her exuberance and gratefulness, she rushed forward as though to hug me, then hugged Althea instead. Althea looked up at and smiled. I had become the hero of the day and had played my part well, even to the point of indicating that an embrace from the girl would have embarrassed me.
"When do you wish to begin work?" Althea said.
"I have my belongings just outside in the hallway," she said. "If you wish, though, I could return to my foster home and come back when you so designate."
Althea looked at me and then smiled at the sweet, precious, sad little child.
"Louis," she said, still looking at Eclair, "would you please bring the child's belongings inside. She begins immediately."
From the catch in Althea's throat, I could tell that the story had touched her deeply. Even if I had said "No" I am certain to this day that Althea would have insisted on the darling child's coming to work for us-or even just to live with us.
It was with a great deal of excitement that I brought in Eclair's belongings-two suitcases of typical Paris design-and took them to the far bedroom in our flat. It had been used as a spare bedroom for years arid had served my father and my aunts well. Once, a niece came to visit and stayed in the room three weeks, but I had done nothing to satisfy my yearnings for her. She was too young, really, and had virtually no bosom at all. Yet still I had desired her.
In the bedroom, I placed the two suitcases on the bed and wanted desperately to open them. I wanted to see her fine underclothing, to feel the soft silk in my hands, to admire the flimsy designs. I was just starting to open one, when Althea came into the room with Eclair.
"The curtains are not right for you," she was saying, "but it will be no problem getting new feminine curtains."
"The room is beautiful," Eclair said. She ran to the window and saw that it overlooked Battersea
Park. "Ooooh," she gushed, and jumped for joy. When she jumped, her breasts flopped enticingly under her thin blouse, and I felt myself erecting again. "This is so beautiful," she said in her highly affected English. "In my room at my foster home, my window looked out onto a stone wall, and there was always the smell of fish and rotten garbage coming up from the alley below."
I was getting angry about her foster home and was of half a mind to go over there and thrash the lot of them. It was inconceivable to me that anyone with a sane mind could mistreat this delicate French pastry. She was perfect in all respects.
During the afternoon, Althea took Eclair on a shopping trip into the city, and I paced the large living room of our flat, trying to subdue the impulses that were leading me to the maid's bedroom. When I thought of all the lovely French underwear that she and Althea had laid so gently in the dresser drawers, I could resist my impulses no longer.
I fairly flew down the long corridor to the room, noting with pleasure that the room was separated by the bath from the other bedrooms. The room directly across from the maid's bedroom was the library and was never occupied at night. It was a perfect location for what I had in mind.
Before I launched into what I knew was going to be a delightful interlude of inspecting, touching, and smelling the girl's clothing, I checked my pocket watch. It was two hours before Nancy would be home from school, and it was at least that long before the two would return from their shopping trip.
I opened the top drawer, and quickly memorizing the position of her brassieres, corsets, and panties, I lifted the fragile garments out of the drawer. My tool erected with a rigid stiffness when I brought the garments to my face. I spread the brassiere around my chest and tried to gauge the size of Eclair's titties. I shoved my fist into one of the cups and noted that there was room for more. Delightful. I smelled her panties and caught only the faint odor of perfume. I dropped the corset back into the drawer and concentrated on her brassiere and panties.
Suddenly, I was thoroughly overcome with an immense desire to be inside the silk undies. I had no effeminate tendencies, but I remembered the night I had crawled under Miss Henderson's nightie with her in it, and I longed for the feel of silk against my naked skin. I went to the front door, however, and locked it just in case a serviceman or deliveryman should show up and try to come inside or in case the women would return early from shopping.
Back in the room I looked out onto the street and in the park to make certain that callers were not about to come. Then, with a feeling of juvenile excitement, I shucked off my clothing and stood naked in the maid's room with her pants and brassiere in my hands.
The panties were tight, but I managed to pull them all the way to my hips and to snap the band into place. My tool was throbbing under the tight, dangerously stretched silk, and I ran my hand down the length of it as it nestled against my stomach. I caressed my own. buttocks and thrilled to the strong sexual sensations aroused in me from the silk. Next, I tried the brassiere, but the holding strap was too short. I put my arms through the shoulder straps and let the bra hang loose on my hairy chest.
Then I was struck with the sudden urge to see myself in Eclair's clothing. I would pretend it was she and that I was going to make love to her. I knew I was behaving like a silly ass, but I could not help myself. Althea's clothing had not done this to me in years, and for some reason, I had not thought of delving into Nancy's frilly undies.
I turned to the mirror over the maid's dresser and caught sight of my ridiculous hairy body in the fragile, feminine garments. Instead of repulsing me, the sight enhanced my sexual excitement, and I found my hand stroking my hard member with increased vigor. It had been years since I had manipulated the bugger into a sexual lather, but the touch of the silk and the constraint of the tight garment on my hips, buttocks, and organ aroused me to a fitful peak. I unsnapped the band of the panties and drew the material down until the head of my tool was exposed.
. Suddenly, I was entranced with the idea of humping the sweet young maid. I imagined that I had my raging penis inside her panties while she was still in them. I imagined that she was in the room with me, that I was on the bed with her. With that vivid scene on the screen of my imagination, I leaped onto the bed and, pulling the panties farther down, began to frig myself with an almost brutal passion.
During the ensuing fortnight, Eclair became a welcome member of our family, and in spite of myself, I began to treat her more like my own daughter with each passing day. Nancy took to her directly, and the two studied together in the evenings. Instead of a maid, it was like having another dear relative in the house, one who is most welcome and contributes as much to the family atmosphere as she receives. I made no attempts to force anything other than normal attentions on the girl, and she, in turn, seemed to draw closer to me as a result.
I went then on a long trip to Moscow, and during the long ride across the barren plains of western Russia, I began to think of the pretty little Eclair and of her lying on her bed in my own apartment. When a tall, stately Russian girl seemed to show me great attention, I immediately took up the challenge and lured the sweet girl into my room on the Pullman. She was nineteen and was a student at the University of Moscow. She was on her way back to the university after a spring vacation.
For the first time in almost twenty years, I took a strange woman to bed with me and later bemoaned my unfaithfulness to Althea. The girl was marvelous, and her wet, oozing pussy was a tremendous delight to my starving, lonely, unattended cork. We slept together twice more on the long journey to the Russian capital, and when we parted at the station, she gave me her address at the university. I never called there, because of the press of business, and returned to England with a feeling of exultation. I had broken my marriage vows, and quite frankly, they had been the last vestige of my reluctance to do anything definite about Eclair.
Since the maid's arrival at our home, I had lain awake many nights wanting her, desiring her, erecting in bed beside Althea, knowing that eventually I would go to Eclair or she to me. But I had remained faithful for a long time, and in spite of my terribly strong yearnings for young flesh, I was trying my best to continue that long period of faithfulness. And now I had been unfaithful and was eager to do so again.
My return home was a joyous one, and after I kissed Althea and Nancy at the station, we went home, where Eclair obeyed an uncontrollable urge to leap into my arms. Althea and Nancy merely smiled approvingly as I pretended great embarrassment and surprised pride of a fatherly nature. The girl's firm breasts rubbed against my chest, and I was fearful that I would erect in front of my wife and daughter. Her lips were wet and sweet, and she planted them firmly on mine.
"Oh, m'sieur," she gushed, "I am so happy to see you again. I hope you do not mind my boldness."
I played the role of the British stuffed shirt.
"Why, of course not, my child." Harumph, them, snort. "I suppose I should feel honored. Quite all right, child. Quite."
And the day settled down as they had before, with me desiring the pretty young maid and doing nothing to appease that desire. The girl, to her immense credit, gave no indication that she wanted me sexually, that she felt anything more than a daughterly interest in me. As I was to learn later, it was as difficult a pretense for her as it was for me.
My chance came unexpectedly in June when the school term was out and Althea decided that she wanted to take Nancy to visit Chesterton. The manor was occupied by her half-brother, my cousin. He had taken over the manor after Aunt Lois's death and, according to all reports, had done a marvelous job of restoring the beloved old house and grounds to their former grandeur. She was to leave Eclair with me, to care for me and fix the meals for me, because my business required that I remain in the city.
Fortunately, Althea not only trusted me implicitly, but she was convinced that Eclair was virtually a daughter to me. It did not enter her mind that a man my age could possibly have sexual interest in so young a child or that the child could have sexual interest at all, especially in an older man.
I saw them off in the carriage on a Friday afternoon, but unfortunately, I had a business appointment that I could not break. All though the discussion-with two businessmen from India-my mind was on Eclair, wondering what she was doing in the big apartment all alone, hoping that she was putting on my under drawers and dashing madly through the house like a sex-crazed hussy.
The dinner and appointment finished, I hailed a carriage and told the driver to rush, that it was an emergency. And it was an emergency. I had an erection that throbbed and ached so terribly that I was fearful that the movement of the carriage over the cobblestones would cause me to shoot off into my trousers. What a bloody, unsightly mess that would have made!
When I entered the flat, I was delighted to see Eclair lying on the floor of the parlor reading a book. She was in her robe, and her fine young buttocks made a dangerously enticing target for my lust. She looked up, and I noticed that her long hair had been brushed out to a fine gleam.
"Hello," I said, trying to sound casual. "You look awfully comfortable there."
"I just washed my hair," she said. "I didn't think you would mind me studying in here."
"Nonsense, child," I said, hating myself for using the word "child" when I wanted her to begin to think more like a woman. "You have free rein of the house, you know. I'm delighted to see you in the parlor-you make the flat less lonely."
She sat up and pulled her robe tightly about her bosom. In that brief split second before she closed the robe, however, I noticed the naked tops of her breasts and realized with a sudden throb of ardor through my body that the girl had nothing on under the robe. Great Scott, could she have been waiting for me to return? Did she have on her mind the same thing that had been torturing me these long, agonizing weeks? Was the girl actually trying, in her girlish way, to seduce me?
"Would you like to hear some classical music?" I asked when I had taken off my jacket and returned to the parlor. "I have a wonderful Gramophone and some very good records. The only French composer I have is Debussy. Do you like him?"
"Oh, I simply adore Debussy," she said. "Do you really have any of his works?"
I went to the Gramophone and put on Images and sat down in my large easy chair to listen and to dream of what might possibly happen in the apartment this night. The girl was still on the floor on her stomach, and she was facing me. The robe had fallen away slightly, and I was looking at the upper parts of her flattened breasts. She raised on her elbows, and as the robe fell away more, I saw the hanging breasts and the dark, enticing cleavage.
I covered my bulge with the newspaper and pretended to focus my eyes on the window behind her as we listened to the "Iberia" movement. Yet my eyes kept coming down to her exposed bosom, and each time they did, I noticed that she was watching my face with intent interest.
"I love Debussy," she said, watching me closely with her enigmatic eyes. "Don't you?"
"Yes," I said dreamily. "Very much. He is one of the greatest."
The record ended, and she leaped to her feet.
"May I turn it?" she asked.
"Yes, but please be careful. Records are very precious these days."
She ran to the Gramophone, and the robe swung wide as she moved. It was tied at the center point with a long sash, but it had no buttons. The movement of her body forced it aside at her neckline and along her long, slim legs. I caught flashes of naked pink skin at both levels and felt my tool turning rapidly to sensuous concrete. God, how long did I have to play the image of father before I could become this girl's lover?
As the music started again and the girl resumed her place on the floor, I toyed with the idea of just going to her on the floor, of taking her into my arms and telling her that I wanted to make love to her. I even considered taking the brutal, direct approach and yanking the robe from what I knew was a naked body and ravaging her on the carpet. But that would have been foolish and would have frightened her. It would be foolish to destroy what was obviously going to be mine anyway, if only I had the patience to wait and the wisdom to play the game in the proper manner.
In the middle of the movement, Eclair got to her feet and stretched. I caught sight of her long limbs, almost to her crotch, as the robe split down the middle. And her unbridled breasts still pointed high as the heavy material of her robe strained against them.
"I would love to stay and hear the rest of this," she said, feigning a pout, "but my hair is thoroughly dry now, and I must brush it again. Otherwise, it will become tangled and unruly."
She went to the parlor door leading to the hallway. She stopped and leaned against the door facing and turned to look at me. Unless I was a total idiot, that was a look of yearning, the eternal mating call of the woman, the old "come on" as the boys at the office called it.
She disappeared down the corridor, and I sat in the chair trying to summon up the nerve to make my move. It was clearly my move. The girl had done everything humanly possible to indicate her willingness. No man could want more, unless he was so depraved that he would expect the girl to dive into his trousers while he sat with the evening paper on his lap.
I followed her to her room a few minutes later. She was sitting at her dressing table, the robe pulled open at the neck so that her breasts were reflected in the mirror. It had fallen away at her thighs, revealing her legs almost to her crotch. She spied me in the mirror and smiled.
"I would be happy to brush it for you," I said hoarsely, "if you think I can do a good job." It was a natural offer, just in case she was merely being a careless child about her dress and was unaware that she was taunting me into a sexual frenzy. The entire matter, no matter what the signs, had to be dealt with in great care. A wrong move resulting from misunderstood actions could bring my world crashing down around my head. It was natural that I should help with her hair, because she had, on many occasions, asked Nancy to brush it for her and she had brushed Nancy's in return.
"I would love that, if you will," she said.
I stood directly behind her and took the brush from her hand. I brushed the hair, feeling my senses grow to gigantic proportions at the touch of the silken strands. When I could chance it, I looked directly down into her robe from above, even though I could see much of her breasts from the mirror image. The scene below, however, nearly tore my rampant tool out of my trousers. The robe was so loose on her body that not only could I see all the way between her firm young breasts, but I could see the skin of her stomach and the light-colored fuzz of her mound.
Deliberately, I moved forward so that the great bulge under my trousers touched her back. She did not move away from the pressure, and I exerted more. Long after it was necessary to continue brushing, I was still pulling the brush through her long hair. I pressed my tool against her more firmly and looked at her in the mirror. Our eyes met, engaged, and held there for a long moment. It was now, I told myself, or never.
I took the chance. Putting down the brush, I gently ran my hands through her hair and remarked on its loveliness. I let my hands rest on her neck and bent down and kissed her head lightly, gently.
"You are a very beautiful young woman," I said, as I withdrew my lips from the soft hair. "Do you really think so?"
"Yes. I have always thought so-ever since the day you arrived here for your interview."
She took her eyes away from mine in the mirror and looked down at her exposed, soft, thrilling thighs.
"The madame," she said somberly, "is also beautiful."
"Yes," I agreed, feeling a deep stab in my chest from the sudden turn away from the direct target. "She is very lovely-but in a different way. Many people are beautiful and desirable, but ... "
I didn't know what else to say. Instead, I bent down and kissed her hair again, then showered her pink neck with kisses, ending with my lips on her bared shoulder. The robe fell off her right shoulder when I touched it, and her entire right breast leaped into view.
I pretended not to see it as I gently turned her face to me and pressed my lips to hers. She did not speak or resist. I found the young flesh so devastatingly beautiful and invigorating to my touch that only with supreme effort did I restrain myself from crashing into the girl and screwing her on the tiny dressing stool. I went one step further and slid my right hand down across her shoulder and cupped the exposed breast with its reddish-pink nipple. God, how long it had been since I had held such delightful and fresh flesh in my hand! Her nipple was soft and pliable.
In that moment of extreme lust and passion, I exercised tremendous restraint. Instead of grabbing the girl brutally and hauling her off to the bed, I took her shoulders in my hands and lifted her to her feet. Her resistance was nonexistent. She rose willingly and turned to face me. With the robe still hanging on her otherwise naked body, I pulled her gently to me and crushed her to my chest. The great bulge in my trousers ground into her flat, soft stomach, but she did not back away. To the contrary, she pressed forward, absorbing the huge, hard mound into her soft flesh.
I walked slowly with her to the bed, and we stood beside it, kissing, clinging to each other. After one particularly torrid kiss in which I initiated her into the realm of French kissing-a strange twist of teaching and learning, considering her nationality-I held her away from me and loosened the sash that still held the robe to her body. I pushed the robe from her left shoulder, and it fell to the floor behind her. I stepped back more and marveled at the fresh, blustery, young, budding beauty of her body.
"How old are you, Eclair?"
"Sixteen." But she was unable to look at me.
"How old?"
"Fourteen."
Great Lord, I thought. It was far better than I had expected. My next question came with bated breath.
"Are you a virgin?"
She looked down, down at the enormous throbbing bulge in my pants. She slowly shook her head. I didn't ask who, why, or how. It didn't really matter. She was young flesh, and she was obviously not well used, so it mattered little, except that I knew that entry would be easier and our first escapade would be more enjoyable.
Her body was beautifully molded, with every item in fine proportion. Her pelvis was wide and well formed, with a high mount that promised total immersion of my cork. Her lovely fair hair hung like a halo around her pretty face, and she looked at me with the dark, enigmatic eyes.
"I suppose it would be all right if I undressed," I said. It was almost a question.
"If you want," she said. Her body trembled at the thought of being in a room with a naked older man. I had heard about young girls who favored older men, but I had never counted myself as being fortunate enough to find one-especially under my own roof. "Do you like me?"
"Of course," I said quickly. "Your beautiful and fresh young body is doing terrible things to me."
"What about madame?"
"Please," I said, unhitching my trousers and letting them drop to the floor. "Let us not think of her, and above all, she must never know about this. There is no reason why she should."
"I know," she said. "Oh, please hurry, m'sieur. Please hurry and remove your clothing, if you wish to do so."
I wished to do so. In the flicking of an eyelash, I had leaped out of my shirt and necktie, then attacked my underwear with a great deal of viciousness. When I was naked in front of her, she stepped back to look at me. My rigid tool, which had grown to an admirable proportion, seemed to astound her. She stared at it wide-eyed and I knew that she was both delighted with and worried about its size. I studied her firm young body again, taking immense delight in the perfect shape of her and in the brilliant rosiness of her nipples. Her breasts were not immense, but for her age and size, they were ample. The rose-colored nipples just barely covered the tips of the pointed titties. I took her into my arms, and crouching a little, I took one of her breasts into my mouth. She gasped, and her hands quickly encircled my probing dong. She worked it back and forth, and I knew that heaven had descended upon me. At long last, after more than twenty years, I was once again touching and being touched by a girl of such tender age that my head swam to think of it. My last teen-ager, before marrying Althea, had been a country girl who lived near Chesterton Manor and who had virtually seduced me in the loft of the great barn at Chesterton. The girl, whose name I had long since forgotten, had been only thirteen, and she had been as horny as one of her father's bulls.
We literally fell across the bed, and lying side by side on the soft mattress, we fell to indulging our senses of touch by exploring each other's bodies. I kissed her lips gently and then moved my mouth over her neck and breasts, stopping to suck gently on the soft nipples, biting them tentatively, and then massaging them with my hot tongue.
Her hands explored my entire pubic region, stroking my long, thick member, fondling and tickling my balls, running her fingers delicately along the sensitive line between my ball-bag and my anus. Her fingers fairly clawed into my pubic hairs, and she gripped the hairs firmly as her other hand stroked my penis. Suddenly, I could contain myself no longer, could no longer be content with kissing her lips and her breasts. I doubled over, and after stroking my hand the entire length of her shapely legs, I pushed my face into her blonde thatch and lashed out with my tongue to taste the sweet delights of her young cuntlips.
She bucked violently under me and closed her fleshy thighs around my head. Apparently, this had never happened to her before, and her gasps and sighs and tiny outcries spurred me to greater and greater accomplishments. I felt her tiny clitoris as it erected under passion, and after kissing it fervently, I took it between my lips.
To my great surprise, her twat moistened quickly, and I felt a fine spray on my face as she gasped, bucked, and thrashed wildly on the bed. It was almost inconceivable, but she had just climaxed! And I had only begun.
I left her pubic region and kissed my way up along her sweet body. She had apparently hoped at this would happen and had bathed and showered herself well with perfume before I returned home from my business meeting.
As our lips crushed together in what, for me, was a torrid and gut-wrenching kiss, my hand slid into the small blonde triangle of her pussy. I knew that I had to arouse her again or be content with letting her frig me to completion. Or perhaps she would prefer to take the throbbing animal into her small, sweet mouth. It was too much to expect on our first session, so I contented myself with bringing her to full passion once more.
I found the entrance to her love tunnel and ran my finger all the way in. She lurched on the bed, and I brought the finger out again. I found her small bud and touched it lightly and carefully. She began to moan her delight as I massaged her gently and, at the same time, lightly sucked her left nipple which had now hardened into a small, erect bulb. Her body began to writhe against me as I sucked and fondled her, and I could hear the quickening of her breathing. My prick pressed against her right thigh, and I moved in an up-and-down motion against the smooth skin. She responded almost magically by sliding her slim body beneath me and closing her thighs over my raging cork. I pushed hard, and the tip of my dong pushed into the soft, velvety hairs of her pubus.
I gripped her small body tightly to me, luxuriating in the feel of her soft, firm breasts against my chest. My sense of domination over this girl was powerful, and I knew that nothing short of total disaster could stop me from once again feeling the youthful innocence of a teen-age pussy.
I raised on the girl, pulling my prick from between her closed thighs, and allowed the swaying, dipping instrument to brush lightly against her stomach. She looked down along her body, between the erect breasts, and watched the big animal in its moment of terrible need. Her hands closed over it once more, and for a long, sweet, agonizing moment, I thought she was going to sit up and take the crazed animal in her mouth. If she had, I would have immediately spent into her mouth and the session would have ended.
Instead, she parted her thighs and guided the thrusting stanchion to her pussy. I lowered my position on the bed to allow the object the proper path of intrusion. She wiggled the job back and forth in the soft folds of her wet puss, and I pressed forward.
She gasped, and her legs went up and around my back. The joy in my heart and body was unbearable. I could scarcely believe that after all these years, I was once again preparing to shove my distended member into a youthful, pleasing, and clean pussy. There was a small resistance at first; then the juices of her love flowed over the great purple knob, and the rigid cock began a slow and torturous entry into the tight, sacred tunnel.
Either she was much smaller than the young girls I had remembered or my dong had grown considerably since I was a teen-ager. But entry was extremely difficult, and she cried out a couple of times when I made strong efforts to penetrate her pussy. When she would cry out, I would stop and wait, massaging her tender breasts and kissing her sweet, wet lips.
Her legs squeezed into my sides, and clutched at my wide back. Her vagina gradually distended until it accepted my strong, hard member, and then I was deep inside her young body, my tool in her almost virginal passage to the hilt. She kissed me passionately, pulling my head down to hers and clinging to my neck and shoulders.
I waited for a long moment, allowing her tunnel to adjust to the massive intruder, then began to screw her. The more I stroked my instrument against the walls of her tight puss, the greater my lust grew. I soon forgot my intentions to be tender and gentle, and before I knew it, I was bounding into her like a rapist. My lust for youthful flesh was being fulfilled, and I was now ramming my cock into her ruthlessly, my hands clawing at her buttocks and my nails digging into her rounded, youthful cheeks. In a moment of total passion, I grabbed one of her tits in my mouth and bit into the tender flesh.
As I continued the brutal stroking and plunging and thrusting into her sweet cavern, she rose to meet me and began to shake and writhe in my tight clench. My prick was throbbing with immense delight, my balls napping and bruising themselves against her buttocks. I spread my legs in an effort to prolong my orgasm, but all efforts were futile. It had been so long since I had violated young flash, and I had built my passions over a long and arduous period for this moment.
I was afraid that this time I would come first, leaving her in the clutches, so to speak. It became completely imperative that I bring her satisfaction with my tool, that my enormous, throbbing, ramming, thrusting prick be the one to cause her second climax.
"Oh, you sweet, sweet, sweet young thing," I said in a moment of great passion and love.
"Darling," she breathed. "My darling, darling man. Oh, it is so good. So good. Take me, my darling Louis. Take me, tear me to pieces, rip me to shreds."
"I will, my sweet," I said. "I am fucking you with my great prick, and your sweet, tender, tight pussy is accepting my monster cock. Fuck with me, my sweet Eclair."
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!" she cried.
And the climax came in one great and magnificent burst of passion. I jerked spasmodically and made three or four more thrusts into her slippery puss as the spunk jetted out of me in quick jerks. Her own spidery sperm mixed with mine, and I could feel the juices flowing out of her, past my balls and onto the inner parts of my thighs. I made one final, crashing, bursting, bone-shattering lunge against her, and we came to rest in a tight clench that held our bodies rigid for a long, delicious moment.
When I pulled out of her and saw the moistness of her small pubus and the glistening wetness of my tool, I wanted to enter her again and blast off into another wild and rollicking screw. But that was impossible. Already, my slightly aged monster-tool was drooping sadly and threatened to lose sight of all carnal objectives.
She cuddled in my arms, her breasts lying defiantly against my rib cage. I cradled her to me like a baby and enjoyed the smooth-soft feel of her young skin against my body.
"Perhaps I should not say this," I said, "but I think I love you, Eclair. I love you more than a father would love. I love you as a lover."
She snuggled against me and ran her hand over my stomach. Her lips nibbled at my neck, and she purred almost like a contented kitten.
"Can we be lovers?"
"Yes-at least, until my family returns and, if possible, forever. But we must be discreet."
"May I call you Louis?"
"Yes, but only when we are certain that we are alone."
"I love you, Louis. You are the kindest, sweetest, most generous, and most sexy man I have ever known."
"Sexiest," I corrected. "There is no such term as 'most sexy.' "
She laughed and snuggled even closer. I felt as though my genitals had been garroted by a great hook. All the manhood and virility had been drained from me. Yet her body felt good against mine, and I looked forward to the next few weeks with an immense amount of satisfaction and anticipation.
"We will be lovers," I said with a great, satisfies sigh. "We shall be lovers such as the world has never known."
"Wonderful," she said, clasping her hand over my soft penis. "If that is true, may we fuck again?"
CHAPTER TWO
In the ensuing days, my love and my passion for Eclair grew, rather than diminished. I insisted that she move into my bedroom for the duration of my family's absence. It was foolish for us to sneak a screw in either room and then for one of us to traipse back to his or her own bedroom.
After a week had gone by and I felt my strength ebbing, I decided to do something about it.
"Look," I said, "my family will be gone for at least another month. I can't go on with these nightly and evening sessions of ours and still maintain the strength and vitality needed for my job. I propose a small vacation for just the two of us."
She was delighted with the prospect, and I took a week away from my job and arranged for the swift voyage by train to Southampton. There, on the balmy beaches, we soaked in the sun and in the ocean and relaxed in the comfortable rooms of one of the town's finest inns.
Since we had registered as father and daughter and I had spread the rumor that the child's mother-my wife-had only recently passed away, we found it necessary to occupy two separate rooms at the inn. This was good. If we had been in the same room, not only would we have created nasty rumors in the lodge, but I would not have achieved my original purpose for the vacation. Back in my apartment when we were sleeping together, Eclair hed the delightful but exhausting habit of waking me in the middle of the night by taking my soft penis into her mouth and bringing it to total erection. In such a state, it was only natural that we should toss off a good screw to bring the naughty monster down again.
The vacation proved to be my salvation. I regained my strength, and although we made love every night at the inn, I returned to the apartment in Battersea much rested and much stronger than I had been when we had left it.
When we were back in the apartment, however, and I knew that I would have to return to work, I set down the ground rules. Eclair was to sleep in her own room, and we would indulge ourselves only every other night-and then only once. No more middle-of-the-night affairs. They were killing me.
This worked quite well for the duration of Althea's and Nancy's visit to Chesterton Manor. When they returned, it was only natural that Althea would want to indulge in a great reunion party in our bedroom. Surprisingly, I rose magnificently to the occasion and screwed my wife as vigorously and with as much pleasure as I had on our wedding night. She was quite pleasantly surprised, and I am certain that my performance erased what little suspicion she might have had about the conduct of myself and the maid during her absence.
Unfortunately, I grew tired of Eclair after a few months, and, even though she was still quite young, I found that my libido had other avenues of desire. My great penchant for young flesh was diverted temporarily into another desire-and that was for strange young flesh. When the magic died, I began to cast about for someone else, although I still kept up the relationship with Eclair and we managed to get together at least once a week.
I had noticed that a number of school girls crossed Battersea Park every afternoon at the same time Nancy returned home. In my not-so-casual studies of these young things, I had singled out a particularly beautiful young child who could not have been much more than ,twelve, counting from her uniform, nor her looks. She was in a form lower than Nancy's, and so I presumed that she was from two to three years younger.
In early October, after school had begun once again, a distant cousin died in the northern part of the country and Althea insisted that we all go to the funeral. It was a long trip, and I did not want to make it. I begged off, citing a tremendous press of business, and Althea went off with Nancy and Eclair. They had decided to stay a bit longer, and the trip would easily keep them away for a fortnight. I was convinced that Althea took Eclair because she had begun to suspect-or fear-that something was amiss in my relationship with the child. No matter.
On the Monday afternoon after my family had gone, I went to the park a half hour before school was to let out, and unfolding my newspaper on a park bench near the main path where my dark-haired beauty always passed, I waited. I had thought about a soft approach, one that might possibly lead to winning the girl over a period of time. But I knew that there was not time for that. My appetite for young girls, strange young girls, was boundless, and as far as I was concerned, any arrangements had to be consummated within the week. There was no time for coy games. I would approach the girl openly and frankly. If she were not so inclined, I would merely shift my attentions elsewhere and continue approaching young girls until I found one amenable to my desires and plans.
I saw the dark-haired girl coming along the path. As always, she walked alone and away from the rest of the school pack. I waited impatiently for her. She wore a gym slip, white stockings, and black shoes-every inch a schoolgirl. I felt certain she would be wearing the light blue panties that generally were worn with gym slips of dark blue. As she approached, I lowered the paper and deliberately smiled at her.
"I say," I said, as she returned the smile and continued on her way. "I know you're in a hurry, my child, but would you mind if I had a word with you?"
I was literally shocked at her response. She stopped and turned to look at me with her books pressed against her full breasts. She smiled what I could only interpret as a wicked smile and said, "I'm in no hurry. What is it you would like to speak to me about?"
My initial plan had been to offer to buy the girl an ice cream at a nearby chemist's, but her response had given me cause to be bold. I got up from the bench and folded the paper under my arm.
"Walk along with me," I said. "It won't do to stand here and talk."
"All right."
She swung her skirts as she walked, and every few feet, her small, dark, impish face looked up at me and smiled. When we reached a narrow and quiet path, I spoke without looking at her.
"I've been noticing you for some time," I said. "I live nearby, and I see you coming across the park almost every day. I think you are one of the most beautiful young ladies I have ever seen."
"Thank you," she said. "Where do you live?"
I pointed to the imposing apartment building. "Just over there," I said.
"I thought only rich people lived there," she said. "Are you rich?"
I laughed. "I get on," I said. "Would you like to come with me and see my flat?"
She stopped, and I stopped with her. I looked both ways to make certain no one was near.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I thought you might like to see how us 'rich' people live. And for other reasons."
"What about your family? Won't they object?"
"My family is away," I said. "Is that your only objection?"
She shrugged. "I suppose so," she said. "I know what you want, and I want it too. I've been with men before, and quite frankly, I like old men."
Old. I knew that I was many years her senior at forty-one, but I had never really thought of myself as old in the strong sense of the word. Although I wasn't exactly flattered, I was thrilled at the possibility of making such an easy-and quite lucky conquest of this sweet and beautiful youngster.
As we walked along the path toward my apartment building, I questioned the girl in an amiable fashion.
"It isn't any of my business," I said, "but I am curious about your statement that you have been with other men-older men-before. Do you mean that you've actually had relations with them?"
"No," she said, "but they have always wanted me to."
"I see. Then what did you do when you were with these older men?"
"I let them play with me. And I played with them. I like both ways."
She was almost flippant, almost cheeky, in her pride of accomplishment. I couldn't believe that I had so blindly stumbled onto such a lucky find. I would have to work on the "playing" bit, though.
When we got to the apartment, I opened the door with a trembling hand and led the sweet young girl into the dark parlor. I opened window shades as the girl went around the room with a blithe spirit, looking at paintings, inspecting furniture, gushing volubly over the Gramophone. I wasted no time leading her to the master bedroom.
"I don't want to keep you here too long," I said, my voice quavering from anticipation and nervousness. "I don't want your family to begin to worry about why you haven't come home from school."
She snorted.
"Don't worry about then," she said. "There're probably down at the pub higher than kites by mow. I usually get my own supper and spend my evenings alone anyway. This is a real lark for me."
"Would you like something to drink? I think there is some soda in the icebox."
"Not yet," she said. "Let's play with each other first, and then I'd love to have some."
It was uncanny. I was certain that at any moment, I would awaken from the dream and it would be time to go to the office. But the girl leaped onto the bed and, without fanfare or pomp, lifted her skirts to reveal the fight blue panties.
I immediately started to erect and climbed on the bed beside her.
"Do you mind if I kiss you first?" I asked. "You know, just to get us both into the proper mood?"
"I would like that."
I kissed her and pressed her full bosom to my chest, feeling my tool rise to full erection. I pressed the hard animal into her stomach, and she started to back away.
"Don't worry," I said. "It's just to get us both excited. I intend to play the game by your rules."
But I backed away and contented myself with kissing her and feeling her hard breasts against me. Finally, she responded to the kiss by pressing her body back against me, in spite of the knobby bulge against her stomach. Her tongue flashed quickly into my mouth. I put my hands over her bosom and singled out one heaving breast, tingling to the feel of it under her gym slip. Then I moved my hand down to her legs. As I went on kissing her, I gradually moved my hand up under the slip until it came to the smooth silk of her panties.
I fondled her thighs and ran my hand over the panties, occasionally inserting a finger under the elastic to probe at the soft fuzz on her mount.
T
Once, my finger touched the crease of her pussy, and she leaped about on the bed.
I could stand it no longer, and so I got to my knees and put both hands under her slip. I tugged the panties down over her hips and thighs and then removed them from her legs altogether.
I knelt between her spread legs and feasted my eyes on the quivering youth flesh beneath me. My God, I thought, this child was so young, so virginal, so absolutely ravishing. I put my hand to her young mount and looked at her face. Her dark eyes were studying me cryptically, and I wondered what in the world could possibly be going through her mind.
My middle finger slid into the narrow cleft of her twat, and I began to rub it up and down in the wetness there. I found her clitoris and rubbed it gently with the very end of my finger. She began to jerk and leap about on the bed, and in the excitement, I forgot about my promise not to try to screw her. I unbuttoned my flies and whipped my throbbing monster into the open. She immediately closed her legs. "No," she said. "No, you can't do it to me." I didn't press the issue, but I was determined to have this little minx before the afternoon was over. Leaving my pecker to swing beneath me in the open air, I bent to the girl's genitals and pressed my lips over her entire mount, fuzzy hair and all. She jerked and nearly knocked my front teeth out with her mount. I lay between her legs and, spreading her thighs again, flashed my tongue into the narrow slit. She cried out in pleasure. "Oh, keep it up, don't stop, do it harder." I warmed to the task and was soon lashing my tongue up and down the wet, narrow slit, pressing it hard against her small clitoris, lapping the small lips with pleasure, sucking the wet, slippery flesh between my lips.
She wriggled and writhed under me as I kept up the relentless sucking of her twat.
When I was certain that she was about to climax, I withdrew and plunged my mouth over hers. She pulled away from the desperate kiss and literally shouted at me.
"Don't stop," she cried. "Go back and suck some more. My God, I'm almost coming. Suck me!"
"I have a good idea," I said. "Let's take off our clothing and I can really make you come."
"Anything," she screamed. "Just hurry."
I removed all her clothing and knelt on the bed between her lovely dark thighs and stared at her reclining body. My dork was still protruding from my trousers, and she looked at it and rolled her hot body from side to side on the bed.
"Hurry," she said. "I was almost there, and you stopped. Oh, please, get back to it!"
I ripped off my clothing as quickly as possible and climbed back onto the bed with her. I rolled between her legs and prodded at her genitals with my ready and rampant stanchion.
"No," she cried angrily. "I said no and I meant it."
I dropped my face to her breasts and began kissing them roughly. She writhed under me and raised her mount until it touched my side. I cupped one hand over it, and inserting my finger into the wet, oozing channel, I kept kissing her breasts, biting her nipples, trying to excite her to the point where she would no longer care whether I fucked, sucked, humped, jumped, or crawled.
But the girl had more sense than I had given her credit for, and in one swift motion that left me breathless, she had reversed herself in the bed. Her mount was directly under my face, and as I stared at the narrow cleft once more, I felt her take my erect animal into her mouth.
She frigged the stem of my dork and played roughly with my balls as she sucked and licked and worked my tool back and forth in her mouth. A spasm of passion ripped through my body and my head fairly leaped forward until my lips were once again planted on the wet lips of her sex. My tongue flashed into the cavern, and her mouth closed even more tightly on my throbbing cock.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that I did not even know the child's name. It didn't matter really, except that I would want to have her back to the apartment again, and unless I knew her name, it would be easy for her to avoid me ii she were so inclined.
We worked on each other with a fury that left me spent and useless within a very few minutes. I came uproariously into her small mouth, but she was equal to the task. She lapped up every drop of my spendings and, at the same time, jerked violently into her own climax.
When it was over, she came back to me again and we lay in each other's arms for a long time. Later, we dressed and went into the kitchen, where she insisted on drinking her soda. I mixed a bourbon and water and sat at the table with her.
"You're a very strange young lady," I said. "I can't understand why you would do such a wild and crazy thing with an older man and not want to be-to be screwed."
"Because I don't," she said.
"There must be a reason," I said. "Did it happen to you once and you didn't like it?"
"No," she said, taking a child-like swig on the pop. "I'm a virgin, and I don't want to be a non-virgin for a while. Not just yet, anyway."
"Are you saving it for marriage?"
She shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "I have no plans for getting married. It's just that I want to hold on to that one thing for as long as I can. You understand, don't you?"
"Yes." All too painfully, I understood. My genitals were still throbbing from the frustration of being so close to sweet, young virginal flesh and not scoring. The girl had done an expert job in bringing me to climax, but a mouth was a mouth was a mouth, I always said. I wanted the real thing gripping and squeezing and pulling at my penis.
When she finished her soda and I had walked her to the door, she actually thanked me for bringing her to my flat. I informed her that the pleasure was all mine and asked if she would like to come back again-say, the following afternoon after school. She agreed with delight, and we made it a definite date. I would not even have to wait in the park for her.
As she prepared to leave, she turned for one last word. "You've been very nice and sweet. Some of my men friends get angry when I insist that they not put it inside me. But you have been a real brick about it. I like you."
"Thank you," I said. "A promise is a promise."
I felt like a fool. If I could have broken the promise not to screw her, I would have done it in a split second.
"One more thing," she said. "If I should decide that I don't want to be a virgin any more, I'll let you be the one. Okay?"
"Okay."
I closed the door behind her and felt a moment of luxurious joy in my heart. I had made great progress with the young thing. She would be back, and if not that time, certainly the next, I would penetrate that sweet young puss with my terrible tiger.
And yet I had still forgotten to get her name.
CHAPTER THREE
The girl's name was Audrey, and she indeed came the next day. And in spite of her protests, I managed to get my rod into her virgin channel. She had objected right down to the last minute, but I had found her weakness. I would bring her to near climax with my hands; then I would leave the bed and light up a cigarette. Next, I would whip her into a violent sexual lather with my lips on her sweet young cunny, then leave her as I went to the bathroom to take a leak.
On the fifth time around, I brought her to the peak and started to get up. She clung to me and begged me to stay. I shrugged and lay across her body, kissing her violently on the mouth and massaging her young breasts with my hands. As I worked on her mouth and tits, I maneuvered my cock into place and punched him through the tight entrance of her pussy.
"No," she cried.
"Okay," I said.
I got off the bed and went to the dresser for my cigarettes. She cried and pleaded for me to come back. I snuffed out the cigarette and went back to her. After more kissing and fondling, I guided my tiger once more to the appointed spot. She wriggled her buttocks and broke the connection. This time, I went to the bathroom, leaving her to stew in such violent juices that I knew she would be ready for anything on my return.
And that was enough to do it. On the next go-around, she accepted me readily, and before she knew what had happened to her, she had a healthy man cock buried to the hilt in her virgin cunny.
Then, to make up for all the frustration and teasing and turn-downs, I nailed her brutally on the bed, ramming, charging, thrusting, pushing, jamming, pounding. She screamed in ecstasy and pain and began a long string of schoolhouse obscenities, some of which I had never heard before.
When I came inside her, in a great burst of spunk that had been built up for a long time of desire for young flesh, she cried in wonder and awe. As we lay side by side on the bed, her long, slender fingers played with the black hair on my chest.
"If I had known it was that beautiful," she said, "I would have let you do it to me yesterday. In fact, I would have been doing it all along."
Before she left, I made sure I got her full name. It was Audrey Wollsworth, and she lived several blocks away in a rather shoddy neighborhood. Although there were several young bucks who had been trailing her through the neighborhood, she had repulsed them all in favor of older men. She did not know why-perhaps it was a substitute for her father-but she simply loved older men, loved to have them fondle her and, now at last, screw her.
She explained as she left that she would not be able to come to me during the next few days. She had promised a very ill neighbor that she would care for her children while the woman went to hospital for treatment. It should only take three days at the most. That meant I would not see the precious child until Saturday, and then my week of solitude would be over. My family and Eclair would be back, and my great desire for strange young pussy would have to be shelved until they left the city again.
Fortunately, business was at low ebb in the office, and not only did I not have an overseas trip planned soon, but there was little reason for me to spend my entire day in the office. The next afternoon at two o'clock, I closed up my desk and went to a small coffee shop in my neighborhood. I had noticed that the shop was frequented by younger girls in the King's Road. I had been there about twenty minutes when a Chinese girl of great beauty came in alone. There were a few places available, but she sat at my table and ordered coffee.
I began a casual conversation with her-in a quite disinterested fashion at first. She talked freely and openly, and I realized that the girl was not only beautiful, but quite intelligent to boot.
She was a pupil in King's Road school, but she was beyond the gym-slip stage. She was at the ripe old age of seventeen. But it mattered little, because her tiny frame and open, innocent face gave the impression that she was far younger. Chinese girls seem to retain their extreme youth much longer than other girls. And I had had this long-standing desire to deflower young Chinese girls, along with Negro, Japanese, and any others who happened by.
We discussed music, politics, London, China, the weather, and finally sex. She looked down when the subject of sex came up, and I hoped that she was a virgin. She talked about the promiscuity of some of the girls in these times and gave the distinct impression that she was jealous of the escapades and successes that some of them were having. As she talked, I watched the movement of her hands, so graceful, so sensuous. Her breasts, I noted, were not large, but they were somewhat larger than I had expected from a Chinese girl. And as she talked, my desire for her yellow flesh grew to such proportions that I was amazed at the restrain I exercised in not deflowering her right there on the table in the crowded coffeehouse.
Finally, I took out my pocket watch, checked the time, and declared that I would have to leave soon.
"If you like," I said, "I could drop you past your house. I will be hiring a carriage for myself."
"I live far away," she said. "I live at World's End."
"I just happen to be going that way," I said, "for a business appointment. You're welcome to ride with me."
She smiled her agreement, and within a very few minutes she was beside me in a carriage and we were off toward World's End. When we had gone several blocks, however, I suggested we stop at a quiet pub I knew and have a small drink. She said she never drank but would be happy to join me while I had one. I explained that I was reluctant to keep the business appointment because it was with a wily Arab who had cheated me before, and I wanted to keep him waiting.
I ordered whiskey for myself, and after the first drink, I talked her into trying a mild drink made especially for ladies. She agreed; in fact, she seemed quite willing. After three of them, she became quite agreeable to anything and, if I may say so, considerably charming, clever, and desirable. When we left the pub, it was still quite bright outside, and I told her that I had decided not to keep my business appointment;-that I was so angry with the man with whom I had the appointment that I would show my disdain for his business practices by not even showing up.
"I feel exhilarated," I announced. "I feel like doing something entirely foolish, something wild and crazy."
"So do I," she said. "What shall we do?" In her half-inebriated state, she kept falling against me, and I thrilled to the touch of her yellow skin and the hardness of her small breasts.
"Let's get a carriage and have the driver run us into the river," I said. "It is a warm afternoon, and we could use a swim."
"Wonderful idea," she said. I nagged another carriage, and when we were seated in the comfortable folds of leather, I put my hand on her thigh to test her. She made no protest, and I told the driver merely to drive around the streets while we talked.
"Try Prince of Wales Street," I said with a grandiose wave of my hand. "It's a quiet street, and there is lovely old Battersea Park for us to enjoy."
"Wonderful," the girl said.
It became obvious to me that the girl had a very lonely and probably disgusting home life. This was a fine lark to her, and she was willing to do almost anything to keep it from ending. I learned that her name was Shawn Wai, that she was indeed seventeen, that her parents were still in China, and that she was attending school here. She lived with two other girls in a dormitory, and since both of them had steady boyfriends, she was left alone much of the time. To my surprise and chagrin, I learned that she was not popular with the boys of London. It was their considerable loss, I reasoned.
"Besides," she said, "I have always liked more mature men. When I return to China, I will probably marry a friend of my father-a much older man than you and to whom I have been promised. However, he wants a girl who has been educated to other ways, and that is why I am here."
As the carriage drove past the park, I instructed the driver to pull to the curbing. Shawn Wai showed surprise when I gave the instructions.
"My flat is in this building," I said. "I just remembered that I must get something there. Would you care to come upstairs and wait?"
She agreed, and I paid the driver, then winked for him to go on his way. He waited until we had gone inside the building before he left. It was the least he could have done-I had given him a ten-bob tip.
In the flat, I fixed two strong whiskeys and we sat in the parlor listening to Paderewski. The girl sat with her legs pulled up under her on the divan, and her lovely yellow knees were exposed to my view. In that day, it was not customary to see women's knees when they were in street clothes, and after all that I had seen of young girls and older women, the sight of the knees still had a delightful effect on me.
When the first whiskey was gone and we were sipping on a second, I decided that the moment had come. I had picked the girl up in rather bold fashion, and she must have known that I had not planned merely to converse with her. Besides, I was getting impatient to commence what I hoped would be a night-long escapade with this delightful and beautiful child.
"Let's go into the bedroom," I said abruptly.
She raised her glass in a toast.
"To the bedroom," she echoed. "What is there to see in the bedroom?"
"Let's find out," I said.
"I love mysteries," she said. "Let us go to the bedroom and find what mystery is there."
I led her down the corridor to Eclair's room, partly because I had not cleaned up the mess in the master bedroom and partly because I wanted the extra sensuousness that would come from screwing in the bed where I had tasted Eclair's young flesh. The room was bright and clean, and Shawn Wai did a delightful pirouette on the polished floor as she entered.
I wasted no time. I took the drink from he? hand, placed it on the dresser, and pushed her gently to the bed. I fell on top of her clothed body and kissed her violently before she knew what was happening. I pushed my hands up along her thin legs to her thighs and then on to her crotch. She began to writhe on the bed and to breathe heavily as I fondled her cunny through the smooth silk of her panties.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I want you, Shawn Wai," I said. "Do you want me?"
"You mean...? "
"Yes," I said hurriedly. I put my lips to her soft ear under the coarse black hair and whispered hoarsely, "I want to fuck you."
She moaned, and under the pressure of my hand on her sex, she writhed under me. I kissed her again, this time probing the depths of her mouth with my tongue. She came up panting.
"I've never done ... I mean, I haven't done this before."
Great leaping lords, I thought. It had not occurred to me that the girl would be a virgin. I had always heard that Chinese girls were deflowered at the age of twelve. It was inconceivable and uncanny and completely delightful that she would be able to present a virgin channel to me. God, it knocked four or five years from her age, as far as I was concerned.
"It will be good," I assured her. "You should consider it a vital part of your overall education so that when you return to China and to your older husband, he will not have such a bad time of it."
I gave her no chance to think, no chance to change her mind and refuse me. I found the buttons on ner dress and quickly removed it. I was surprised to find that she wore no corset, that she had only a brassiere and the pink panties. I removed them with tremendous dispatch and knelt beside her, studying her long, slim body, her small but erect breasts with their black nipples, the coarse thatch of hair at her pubus. She quivered under me on the bed, and I threw my cloJh:ng every which way until I, too, was naked and my rigid member was weaving menacingly above her.
She stared at the great tiger for a long moment, then reached a tentative hand out to it. She touched the swollen knob, and I felt the coolness of her fingers all the way up to my neck. To complete the picture, I slid my hand over her mount and inserted a finger into the tight cleft of her cunny. The tiny creature dilated slightly to allow my finger entry, and I poked and jammed it in as far as possible.
I was well prepared for the tough ordeal, and I knew that the girl would receive me well. I had also heard that the Chinese had a marvelous capacity for pain and that the women would endure almost any amount of pain, without complaint, for their men. I was about to find out if that rumor were true.
I kissed and nuzzled the firm young breasts and sucked gently on the black nipples. In my enthusiasm, I swung down to her pubus and cast my tongue into the narrow cleft. She fairly shrieked at the sensation, and her hands gripped my head and pressed my face deeper and deeper into her puss. When I was certain that she was near climax, I pulled away from her sweet puss and kissed her full on the lips again. She responded with a more professional manner this time, and her tongue dashed into my mouth and licked my teeth and lips with a tremendous passion.
After a few moments of passionate kissing, I longed to have the strong, wet lips over my prong, and I backed off to look into her black, slanted eyes.
"Do you love my body?" I asked. "Oh, yes," she said. "So very much."
"Would you kiss me in other places."
"Anywhere," she said. "Tell me where."
"Everywhere," I said.
I rolled off her and lay quite still on the bed, waiting for her to begin. She raised to one elbow and began by kissing each of my flat nipples. I had not known that a man's nipples possessed any special sensitivity, but her kisses thrilled my entire body and I wanted her to continue. When her lips left my chest and began kissing my stomach, I knew that I was near my goal of having her take my hungry tiger into her mouth.
While I was thinking it, I felt her soft cheek against the knob of my dork, and I looked down to see her contemplating the immenseness of the animal. I cupped one of her small breasts and pinched the black nipple between two fingers. This spurred her on to greater triumphs, and with a sudden jerking gesture, she planted my knob between her lips and began to suck magnificently.
Her rough tongue lashed the head of my dong, and she eased more of the wild beast into her small mouth. It was almost like shoving it into a virgin twat, her mouth was so small. When the velvet knob pressed against the back of her throat, she drew back, sucking as she went, until her lips were just barely touching the very tip of my cork.
Then the precious Shawn Wai did a very strange and unexpected thing. She left my tool and swung around so that she was directly between my legs. She lifted my legs so that they rested over her shoulders, my heels digging into her back. She plunged into my bottom like a man thrusting his face into a woman's twat. She slipped my entire ball-bag into her mouth and sucked on the throbbing dum-dums, all the time frigging my rampant prick with her right hand. When her mouth left my balls, she began kissing the sensitive skin beneath them, holding my balls out of the way with her nose. Suddenly, her tongue lashed out and touched my anus. I bucked under the strange and delightful sensation and raised my buttocks to give her better access to the area.
She turned me over and kept on kissing the sensitive area, spreading my buttocks with her strong hands. Her lips set a course up through the crease in my buttocks and along my back to my shoulders. Then she forced me to turn again on my back and began kissing my face. She was some virgin!
Her kisses had brought me to full sexual power and a towering rage of passion. I had lain passive during her fine demonstration, and now I knew that my body cried out for action of another sort. It was time for me to regain the initiative, however pleasant it had been to be the subject of her kisses and manipulations. I rolled on top of her, and wildly kissing her face, her lips, and her breasts, I poised my throbbing cock above her waiting pussy and lodged the velvet tip in the entrance of her vagina.
"Oh," she cried. "Oh, oh, oh."
"Don't worry," I said. "It won't really hurt."
"I don't mind the hurt," she said. "It is just that I have never felt a man's instrument there before. Once, I was on a date with a boy from school and he put his hand on me, but this is the first time my little kitten has felt a huge rod upon its tender flesh."
I kissed her again, probing her mouth with my tongue, and exerted slight pressure on her pussy. The aching knob penetrated the entrance, and I rubbed it up and down to stir the juices to full lubrication. All I could think of was having my cork all the way in, all the way up a fascinating, strange, and inviting Chinese cunt. I wanted to ram into her without mercy, but I had promised her that it would not hurt, and so I kept up the steady pressure in an attempt to slide him in gradually.
But she was more woman than I had imagined. She flipped her legs around me, and her heels dug into the small of my back, urging me to press forward with more vigor. I pulled out a half inch, and then, certain that the direction was proper, I rammed into her like a battering ram breaking down a fortress door.
She screamed with pleasure and pain as the husky intruder ripped into her virgin channel, breaking the hymen and settling into the tight pussy. She clung to me, and her lips sought mine, and I rested on her, waiting for her to respond in a way that would tell me that the pain had disappeared.
After a long moment, her buttocks began to gyrate slowly, and I knew that she was ready. I had planned the screw to last for a long time. I had even thought about pulling out from time to time and smoking a cigarette during our lovemaking. But plans of that sort are almost always short-lived.
"You are so wonderful," she said. "You are a most wonderful and sincere person. I am so glad I let you take me, my beloved. This is even better than I imagined that it would be."
That was the ticket I needed. I withdrew to the very tip and plunged downward like a battering ram. She screamed, and her legs tightened like a vise around my back. Her hands clawed at my buttocks in an attempt to drive me farther and farther into her lovely yellow flesh. Without further hesitation, I began the classic motion that is described, in almost any language, as just plain old fucking.
As the tension built and as her passion rose from the steady, rhythmic stroking into her untried love channel, she began to buck and leap and hump with me. Her legs squeezed me tighter and tighter, and her narrow hips rose to meet every plunge. I was pleased to note that each downward plunge brought me to maximum depth and that her hungry twat absorbed every possible millimeter of my dork.
She began to shout in Chinese and then spilled over into her faltering English, "Oh, fuck me, my Louis. Take me brutally. Fuck me into little pieces.
I love you and I love your great man-organ. Oh, my great Buddha in heaven, fuck me terribly."
As I plunged into her hairy twat, I pressed my chest against her firm, small breasts and clasped her small buttocks to me in a tight and rhythmic embrace. There was ho necessity for me to pull her buttocks to my plunging animal; she was there with every plunge, meeting every movement with a precision that normally does not come without long experience. Someone had coached the girl well in the ways of love, because even without any experience at all, he was better than most of the girls I had screwed.
The coming was another experience of great pleasure and surprise. When she knew that my time was near, she plunged one slender finger into my anus. It was uncanny how such an action, at that particular moment, added so greatly to my enjoyment of climax. I came in great, spasmodic gobs into her virgin twat and knew that she, too, had expired all her sexual energies at the same blissful moment.
Even as we lay in each other's arms, spent and exhausted and happy, my mind began to think of my next conquest. True, I wanted a repeat performance with the beautiful young Chinese girl, but I knew that I could not be happy with her for very long. My mind now raced through bright alleys and wide boulevards, avoiding ruts, avoiding and deploring the mundane and the ordinary.
I knew then that I was destined to become a cocksman, a veritable rascal who would seek out strange pussy no matter where it lurked and whose throbbing dong had no conscience. It was no longer a matter of being faithful to my wife; in fact, I decried all those lonely, idiotic years in which I had indulged in such foolish propriety.
At the moment of my greatest sexual satisfaction and exhaustion, my yearnings continued and expanded and reached out for more and more and more.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was only natural, in my present and expanding state of mind, that I should begin to think of my own daughter in a sexual way. Something evil and grand possessed my mind and my body, and there seemed to be no limit to my lust for young flesh. When my family returned from the northern part of the country and we settled down to a more or less normal state of affairs, I found that my secret trysts with Eclair were less exciting with each passing day.
Although I used every possible opportunity to sneak into the maid's bedroom and quickly nail her to the mattress, my mind leaped out into many directions for new pussy to calm the raging fire in my loins. I knew that I was becoming-or had become-a rather depraved rascal, a deflowerer of young maidenheads, a ravager of children, but I could not stem the tide of yearnings that swept overme with every waking moment.
My daughter had always been a devoted child and an affectionate child in the bargain. In recent years, she had kissed me with more feeling when she left the apartment or arrived from school or departed for bed. In more recent times, I had more than once felt the heavy pressure of her growing breasts against me, and each time it happened, I felt the lust growing in my loins. I had chastised myself for these feelings, but in spite of that, they had been growing steadily.
The turning point came, I think, a month after my family had returned from my cousin's funeral and Nancy was preparing to go to a school dance. Althea and Eclair had gone out to do some shopping, and I knew they would be late, because on
Saturday night the stores were open until nine o'clock. Nancy had taken her bath and gone to her room to prepare herself and dress for the dance. I was to take her in a hired carriage later on.
She had no date and was going to be at the dance with several of her girlfriends, many of whom I had already pegged for future conquests. It occurred to me, as I sat in the parlor listening to Rachmaninoff, that it would be well for me to somehow take Nancy into my confidence and thus assure myself of a steady stream of young blood for my growing desires-to wit, her school friends.
Thinking thus, I went to her room and saw that she was sitting in her panties and brassiere at her dressing table applying a faint shade of lipstick to her young lips. I went into the room without caution or embarrassment to either of us-we had always been less than inhibited around the apartment and many times I had seen her in her nothings as she had darted from bath to bedroom or vice versa.
"All set for a big evening?" I asked as I sat on the edge of her bed and looked at her in the mirror. I was surprised at the enormity of her young breasts. I had not realized that they had grown to such proportion that they literally spilled over her tight brassiere.
"Yes, Daddy," she said. "All set. I just hope the boys behave themselves tonight."
"Don't they always?"
"Not lately," she said, half turning to face me. As she turned, I saw her breasts in silhouette and noted that they protruded much farther than her mother's. , "What have they been doing lately?"
"Oh, feeling and pinching and stuff," she said. "Once, a boy actually put his hand on me-down here."
She pointed to her crotch, and I felt a large ping in my own crotch.
"You mean, he actually grabbed you by the sex?"
"Yes, Daddy. Of course, they're always goosing girls between the buttocks and trying to feel our breasts, but that's the first time one of them actually got so bold as to grab me there."
"What did you do?" I was getting terribly worked up over the conversation-not so much in anger at what the boy had done, but in jealousy at not being the one to do it.
"I hit him in the stomach with my fist," she said proudly.
"Good girl," I said. "Do you know what he wanted?"
"I'm not sure," she said. "All I know is what I hear in the toilet at school, Daddy. I don't know much about these things."
"Hasn't your mother talked to you about sex?"
"Only about the birds, bees, dogs, and cattle," she said. "I don't have the foggiest idea of what all that has to do with boys always trying to pinch and feel me."
It was time, I decided, that my daughter had a full lesson on sex. I stood up and went to her, pressing my crotch against her almost naked back. I put my hands gently on her naked shoulders and smiled fondly down at her, noting at the same time that her breasts were creamy and smooth and that I could see right between them to her stomach from my hicrh vantage point.
"Darling Nancy," I said. "I think I should tell you what the boys want from you. And I shall warn you that you are never to give it to them."
She turned to face me and I felt myself erecting again from the lovely sight of her half-naked body.
"First," I said, 'I want you to remove your panties and brassiere."
"Why, Daddy?"
"Because it is necessary that you remove them for me to demonstrate a certain fact of life."
She hesitated briefly, then smiled and snaked the panties down over her hips, thighs, and legs. I stood back and looked at the small triangle of dark hair at her pubus, then ogled the jutting breasts as she reached back to unsnap her brassiere. The brassiere came away, and I was staring at the naked, trembling body of my own daughter.
I stood still in the room, listening to my daughter's heavy breathing, trying to control my own thoughts and actions. My heart pounded so crazily, I was afraid it was going to jump out of my chest. I knew that what I planned was wrong, but I also knew that it was wrong for me to be going to bed with all the young girls I craved so desperately. Nancy, at that moment, represented the epitome of teen-age conquest, the highest mark in my appointed target, the goal of my sex-crazed yearnings for young flesh.
Slowly, I took off my trousers, shirt, and underwear and stood before my daughter as naked as a newborn babe. My erection stood out dramatically and throbbed from the sheer hunger of knowing that it was so near conquest-and what a conquest!
I approached Nancy and noticed that her body trembled considerably. I took her in my arms and felt the soft firmness of her new breasts against my body. My throbbing tool flattened against her stomach, and she clung to me willingly, passionately.
"What we are about to do," I said, "has been done by man and woman since the beginning of time. It is a necessary action for the propagation of the race, and along with that vital function, it is a highly desirable and pleasurable pastime."
"What are we going to do, Daddy?"
"We, my dear child, are going to copulate."
"like you do with Eclair?" she asked.
I nearly swallowed my tongue. And my erection suffered just as much as my emotions. I stared at Nancy and felt the throbbing beast dying on me. I also felt my soul dying, if I had one.
"What do you mean?" I asked, knowing full well what she meant.
"I've heard you and seen you," she said. "I wasn't sure what was going on when I first heard you two in her room at night, but I sneaked in there one evening before Eclair went to bed, and I hid in her closet. I opened the door a crack and saw you come in real late and climb into her bed. The candles weren't lit, but the moon was awfully bright that night, and I saw you both naked on the bed. You had your big thing right up between her legs, and you were humping and bucking all over the bed. You were using awful language, too, Daddy-and so was she."
I felt like crying. If Nancy had found me out, how much did Althea know? I had to find out.
"Have you said anything about this to anyone?"
"Just Eclair," she said. My heart almost stopped. "Oh, don't worry," Nancy went on. "We're great friends, and we discuss everything. Mummy doesn't know, and we'll never tell her. Can you and I copulate now, Daddy? I've never done it, and I think it should be great fun with you."
I must admit that when it came to teen-aged flesh, I had little or no conscience. And if Nancy had not mentioned her knowledge of Eclair and me, it is highly possible that I would have fucked her right there on her bed. But now I felt ashamed, degraded. All I could think of doing was covering up my nakedness and getting out of the room as quickly as possible.
"Darling," I said, picking up my clothing and holding it in front of me, "I'm afraid we can't. It really isn't right, but it also isn't right for you to do it with anyone else until after you're married. All right?"
"If you say so, Daddy."
I turned and left the room. I dressed in my own room and lay on the bed wondering what to do about the situation. I was certain that Nancy would not say a word of what had happened-or what she knew about Eclair-but my concern was more with what might happen in my relationship with my daughter. What would her reaction be when we kissed hello or goodbye? Would she try to seduce me, to force me to copulate with her? Would she turn against me? What? What? What?
It was obvious that I take my sex out of the house from this moment on; that it was all over with Eclair. I could not take the chance that Althea might also hear the sounds in the maid's bedroom and decide to investigate. I didn't expect my wife to be quite as tolerant about it as my daughter.
But I had to have sex, and that sex had to be with young girls. My mind began to cast off into several areas but always came back to the same place-school. In my present state of mind, I wished that I had become a schoolteacher.
A schoolteacher!
My God, I had forgotten all about Rolland Heffington, the schoolmaster at Brydesden School. I didn't know him well, but I had got involved in a rouser of a conversation with him at a recent party. He had been telling me about some of the really "hot" girls in his school and the difficulties he encountered in dealing with them. He told about one girl who actually took off her clothing in his office and offered to give herself to him that very moment if she could escape a small punishment he had promised her for misbehaving in class.
I had always intended looking up good old Rolland to be eyewitness to some of the girls he had mentioned, but I had never done so. I would attend to it straight off, of course.
I left the office early the following Monday and went to the school when I knew that classes were finished and Rolland would be alone in his office. He remembered me and seemed happy to see me.
"I'll come to the point right off," I said after I was seated comfortably in his office. "I've never forgotten our conversation at the Wilsons' party, and I've never forgotten those wonderful and desirable girls you mentioned. I got the distinct idea that you have a great fondness for young girls."
He looked at me with a slightly suspicious look, as though he thought I might be a secret investigator checking into his habits.
"Don't look so worried," I said with a smile. "I'm no investigator for the school or the government. I, too, have a great fondness for young flesh, and I have come to the source, so to speak. I wonder if you would help me to locate some hot young girl who loves to, shall I say, make love?"
He looked at me for a long moment, and I didn't know whether I was in or out. His expression told me that he could go either way. It was a calculated risk. If he were repulsed by my proposition, he could do little more than throw me out. If he liked it, I was in. Suddenly, he laughed and slapped his thigh.
"By Jove!" he roared. "I had thought I was the only rascal in the whole world who went all to pieces over young girls. I'm happy to have an accomplice. It's a wonderful feeling to know that somebody else shares your avocation."
We discussed the matter at great length, and he insisted that whatever plan we worked out would have to be handled with the greatest amount of discretion and aplomb.
"Tell me," I said, "do you have a school nurse?"
"Yes, of course."
"Good, then there must be a medical bag around as well as a clinic."
"Oh, yes. We take very good care of the pupils."
"All right, then," I said. "How about if we conduct a medical examination? I can be the examiner, and you can arrange to keep a girl after school and bring her to the hospital room after the nurse has gone home. I won't tell you the details of my plan, but I assure you it will be a very good one-and very discreet."
He trusted me, and three days later, I was back at the school after classes were out. I went directly to the chnic, which Rolland had shown me on my original visit, and put on a white robe. Rolland came in shortly.
"I have a girl who is coming down in five minutes," he said. "Her name is Ellen, and she has a slight reputation, although not a bad one. She was caught sticking her tongue out at the gym instructor and kept on detention. You'll have a half hour with her."
"All right," I said. "You stay for the first few minutes to give her confidence in me, then slip into the other room here and listen. I promise you, there will be no problems. My plan is perfect, foolproof."
The girl showed up promptly, and Rolland led her to me at the large desk the nurse used.
"This is Dr. Hollingsworth," he said. "He is from the government health association, and he wants to ask you a few questions."
"All right." She breathed easier when she determined that she was not going to be given a spanking, as was the usual case.
"Just relax, Ellen," I said. "It is Ellen, isn't it?"
"Yes, Doctor."
It felt good, being called "Doctor." And it felt good seeing the wholehearted confidence the girl showed in me. I would have felt like a regular blighter if I had not been so entranced by the girl's dark, haunting beauty and her enormous tits.
"Ellen, I will be at the school for a few days giving examinations to a very few girls for a very specific reason." I stopped and looked at Rolland. "Do you mind, Mr. Heffington?" I said. "I think perhaps Ellen might be able to answer my questions more easily if we were alone."
"Of course," he said, smiling. "I'll be in my office when you're finished, Doctor."
When he had gone, I turned to Ellen and realized that I had a extremely choice piece of meat on my hands. She was a darling child, and her eyes spoke of happiness in bed. But I was not to get her to bed, merely over the end of the desk.
"Ellen," I said abruptly, "one of the reasons we have kept you after school is not to punish you, but to check out a nasty rumor that has been going around the whole city."
"Rumor, sir?"
I could tell by the panic behind her eyes that she had a pretty fair idea of what the rumor might be. I couldn't believe that my first subject would represent pay dirt.
"Yes, my dear, I don't think a sweet child of your caliber should be concerned, but you must understand that it is necessary for this examination. If we took everyone's word for it, we might never be able to get to the bottom of the situation. You might tell the whole truth, but others wouldn't. Because some people actually do tell lies, it is necessary that we examine all of them, including those who customarily tell the truth. Do you understand?"
"Certainly," she said, smiling quickly. "It's like the innocent suffering because of the guilty."
"Something like that," I said, "except there will be no suffering. Merely a medical examination."
"Examination for what, sir?"
I coughed and pretended a slight embarrassment. "I have been instructed by my superiors," I said, "to check into stories that several girls in our schools have been, shall I say, indulging in illicit affairs with the boys. It is my sworn duty..."
"Surely, you don't believe that I have done such a thing?"
"Of course not," I said. "But I must examine you, although I must say that a medical examination cannot always tell. If you have had relations with a young man, it is possible that I will be able to determine so. In most cases, though, it is impossible to tell; but we must work within the framework of our knowledge."
"How can you tell?"
"Various way," I said. "If you will bear with me, Ellen, we shall try to determine. Keep in mind that I may not be able to determine for certain if you are a virgin."
"ll you can't," she said, looking at me hopefully, "what do you report?"
"Simply that you are a virgin. Would you please remove all your clothing?"
She hesitated, but I stood up and came around the desk. I turned my back and pretended to be searching for a particular instrument in the big bag used by the nurse. I heard the rippling of cloth behind me and knew that this girl was eager to prove her virginity to me. I began to have cold fears that she truly was a virgin, but I doubted it. I would have to go through with my plan, though.
"All right, Doctor," she said.
I turned and tried with all my might to maintain a professional decorum as I stared at her lovely naked body. Her brassiere and light pink panties were piled on top of her school clothes on the desk. I glanced at them and felt my dork erecting heavily under the white robe. I looked at the erect breasts, the dark, pointing nipples. Her body was perfect, except that her hips were a little wider than might have been expected for a girl of her tender years.
"Don't be shy, Ellen," I said. "I have to examine your breasts first. Just remember that doctors' hands are like medical instruments. All right?"
"All right."
I pressed the soft breasts, poking the nipples, squeezing the bottoms of the globes, probing at the sides, shifting them from side to side, then going back to the nipples. I noticed that her breathing became uneven and that her nipples were erecting into small buttons of hardness. I controlled my own breathing with a tremendous amount of self-control.
"Turn around," I said.
She turned, and I slipped my hands around from behind to press the high, heaving breasts. I looked down the cleavage of her tender buttocks and felt like pushing my bulge into them. But I maintained strict discipline over myself.
"All right," I said, releasing her breasts. "Bend over the desk and stand with your legs slightly apart."
She looked at me with an almost knowing smile, but I looked at her sternly. Her mistrust turned to shame, and she quickly bent over the desk. I crouched behind her and looked at her sex. The lips were narrow and soft-looking in their little nest of hair. I spread her buttocks and probed at her tiny brown hole with my middle finger. She shivered and began to move about with a small degree of nervous excitement.
I probed at her twat and was surprised to find that it was quite moist. In fact, she was so moist that a small stream of juice was running into the fine hairs of her upper left thigh.
"Bend over more," I said. "Now, this next move is quite necessary, so don't be alarmed."
"I won't be," she said. She had begun to breath so hard that it was difficult for her to talk.
I moved my finger about in the center of her pussy and began to push it in. She let out a small cry and went to her tiptoes.
"Steady, now," I said in a reassuring voice.
I moved the finger in slowly until I could push it in no farther; then I revolved it just as slowly, first to the left, then to the right. I watched the girl closely and saw that her fists were clutched around her clothing and that she was actually biting her lower lip. I took my finger out and rested both my hands on her hips. Her buttocks began to move from side to side under the pressure of my hands.
"Well," she said in her tight, almost sexy voice, "what is your verdict?"
"Do you really want to hear it?"
She slumped on the desk and pulled her legs together. I knew I was right. The girl, by her own admission, not by my phony examination, was not a virgin. She stood up and half turned toward me. I could see the silhouette of her breasts against the brightness of the outside window. It was fully erected and felt that my animal would at any moment burst out of his confinement.
"What will your report say?" she asked, staring down at her pile of clothing. Her left hand still gripped her panties, and I wished they were in my own hand.
"I'm sworn to report the truth," I said. "I don't know how I can do..."
"Do you always report the truth?" She was facing me now, and I have never seen such a look of self-determination, of the strong will to survive at any cost.
"Most always," I said.
She relaxed and knew that she had me. She came closer, and when the dark tips of her breasts were touching the white front of my robe, her fingers began to toy with my necktie.
"What would it take to get you to report that I am a virgin?" she asked.
"Is it so important to you?" I asked.
"My father will kill me," she said.
"It couldn't be that bad," I said. I had made up my mind to one thing-if I were going to screw any of the girls I examined, it would be only through their insistence. I was not going to use any force, persuasion, or other tricks on them. My full intentions were to get at the truth through implication and let them carry the ball from there.
"Oh yes it could," she said. "He is a brute of a man who thinks sex is a tool of the devil. He would simply beat me to death if he thought I had done anything with a boy."
She begun to flatten her breasts against me, and her groin was almost to the bulge in my trousers.
"I don't know what else I can do," I said. "My examination shows..."
She slid her arms around my neck and pressed her lips against mine. I pretended to back away, and she followed me, pressing the full length of her body against me. I bent in the middle to keep her from feeling my erection.
"Young lady," I said, pretending shock, "this is highly irregular, but I must warn you that I am only human. You are a very beautiful young lady, and you are fully unclothed, in case you don't recall."
"I recall," she said, rubbing her hand up and down my chest. "You're very handsome for a doctor. I thought all doctors were homely and had no sex feelings at all."
"I can't speak for the others," I said, "but I have a tremendous amount of sexual desire, and you aren't helping matters at all."
The girl was as precocious as I had hoped. Her hand unbuttoned the white robe and began to work on my trousers. She felt the bulge as she worked on the buttons, and her breathing picked up considerably.
I kept offering feeble protests, but the girl was determined to preserve her reputation, at least with her father, and she pursued the matter until she had extricated my throbbing tool and was staring at it in wonderment.
"I didn't know doctors were so big," she said. "Again," I said a little stiffly, "I can't speak for the others. If you don't stop, young lady, I cannot be responsible for the developments."
"Then don't be," she said, taking my enormous tool and rubbing it in her pubic hair. "Just do what comes natural."
"What can we do here?" I asked. "There is no couch. Nothing but the desk."
"We can do it the same way we did it during the examination," she said. "Except, instead of using your finger, you can use this delightful beast."
I gave one last attempt at professional hesitation. "I don't know, Ellen. This is highly irregular."
"Please," she said, kissing me again and slipping my tool between her thighs. "I want you. You're very handsome and so virile. I want you inside me. After all, it isn't as though you would be the first."
"I don't know..."
"Come," she said.
She led me back to the desk. "Please," she said. "We can pretend that it's part of the examination."
"I suppose I should take off my trousers," I said. "It wouldn't do to get them messed up. Do you mind?"
"By all means," she said. "Why don't you get completely naked, or will the principal be coming back?"
"Not-likely," I said. "I told him I would come to his office when the examination was over."
"Good. Take off your clothes."
She turned to watch me as I stripped, then came into my arms once more. I felt the great throb of passion throughout my body and wanted to ravage the sweet child then and there, but it was necessary that I retain some semblance of professional attitude. I kissed her avidly, though, and we went back to the desk.
She promptly bent over the desk, revealing her gleaming buttocks and wet pussy to me again. I stepped up behind her and probed her twat with my fingers. It was sopping wet, and I knew that she was going to be exceedingly delightful. I stuck the end of my cork into the entrance of her vagina and hear her gasp.
I waited a respectful moment; then, placing my hands on her hips, I guided the hungry monster into her. She received me with only a medium degree of tightness, but the abundance of lubrication allowed me pleasant entry. When I was within an inch of full penetration, when my pubic hairs were tickling her white, gleaming buttocks, I rammed into her hard. She bucked and cried out under me, and I wriggled my ass from side to side, making her cry out, moan, groan, sigh, and gasp in a rapid succession of passionate responses.
"My God," she said. "I've had four up there already, but none of them ever went this far. Oh, Doctor, you're a welcome addition to the neighborhood."
"Thank you," I said.
I had still retained a great deal of my doctoral guise, but I was about to revert to type. The girl was ravishing and beautiful, and I wanted to drop all inhibitions and to screw her viciously and passionately.
I began a slow and steady stroking of her tight, wet little pussy and saw that she was grasping the clothing again. I bent over her body and cupped her hanging breasts from behind again. She pressed her bosom forward, squeezing her tits into my fingers. I played the fingers over her titties and pinched the nipples tightly. She squealed and wriggled her buttocks against my rampant cork.
"Are you ready?" I asked, holding still against her warm, panting body.
"Oh God, yes," she cried. "Do it, Doctor. Do it now. Fuck me."
I couldn't wait any longer. I maintained more calm than I had known I was capable of maintaining. Now, I was the hairy beast, the eternal animal, the primeval creature who knew only the pursuit of pleasures. I rammed it into her viciously, slamming her brutally against the desk. She cried out an almost steady stream of obscenities as I screwed her little snatch to a fever temperature and gripped her tits until I was certain they were going to come off in my hands.
"Take me, Doctor," she squealed. "Oh, take me, hump me, jump me, fuck me!"
She came quickly, and I knew that I was not far behind her in that department. As the juices boiled in my sexy balls, however, I conceived another idea. Since she was satisfied, it would be all right for me to indulge in another activity that had occasionally pleased me. I withdrew and raised my tool a few inches to the tiny brown anus. She gasped when the wet, glistening knob touched the unviolated channel, but I didn't give her a chance to resist.
I pushed it in a full inch, and she let out a hoarse yell of delight and pain. "Oh my God!" she yelled. l showed no mercy. I drove the throbbing battering ram in to the hilt and, after a moment's rest, began the same furious stroking that had satisfied her pussy. I was surprised when she began panting again and started up her bucking and gyrating. I humped the tiny hole with renewed vengeance and shot my load of spunk deep into her bowels as she came for the second time.
Just as I finished emptying my genitals of their heady fluid, the door opened and Rolland Heffington stood in the doorway, staring at us in a great dramatic display of pretended shock and dismay.
"What on earth!" he exclaimed. "Doctor Hollingsworth, I can scarcely believe that this is part of a medical examination."
I pulled out of the stunned girl and backed away, pretending that I was caught red-handed with some heinous crime. The girl picked up her clothes and held them to her breast. Rolland quickly closed the door behind him and came up to us.
"Ellen, I am going to assume that the doctor learned something about you that we had all suspected. Is this true?"
The girl nodded and looked to me for support.
"Now Mr. Heffington," I said with a kind voice, "this little matter can be easily explained. The girl was not a virgin, as you had suspected, but we had no intention of doing anything like this. I suppose the examination just got a little out of hand."
"I would say so," he said.
"I realize," I said, still pretending great fear and panic, "that this entire matter could easily be misconstrued by others, and I am trusting that you will be discreet. I have learned that this poor child's father would kill her if he suspected that she is not a virgin. This is why ... why..."
"Is that true?" the schoolmaster asked the girl.
"Yes, sir," she said.
He pretended to give the matter a great deal of thought. "Have you indulged yourself very often with boys?" he asked.
The girl looked him straight in the eye when she answered. "Yes."
"Do you like it? I mean, do you have a great feeling for sex?"
"Oh, yes."
"I see. Well, I guess it cannot be helped when a girl is so inclined. There are a lot of girls like that, and it is certainly nothing to be ashamed of. How many boys have you had?"
"Four," Ellen said. "But I've had each of them several times. Once, I went seven times in a row with three boys."
"Marvelous," the principal said. "Do you think you could go once more-right now?"
The girl smiled and looked quickly at me. She saw how her body once more was going to get her out of deep trouble. I nodded to indicate that I thought it would be wise of her to indulge herself with the schoolmaster.
"I live alone," the schoolmaster said, "and I have little chance for anything like this. I hope you understand that I'm not blackmailing you or anything."
"Of course not," I said with a reassuring tone. "However, it is strictly up to Ellen. I don't want my reputation ruined, but the girl is her own master, you know."
"Oh, I don't mind," she said. 'I don't mind at all."
She had dropped the clothes back to the desk, and her naked body was fully exposed to Rolland. She moved close to him, and he responded by taking her into his arms and kissing her passionately. Before I could count three, he had taken off his clothing and pushed the girl over the desk backward. The sight of her spread legs and gaping pussy caused me to erect again, so I went to a small chair near the window and sat on it.
Rolland wasted no time plunging his hungry tiger into the girl's ready puss, and as I watched, his buttocks flashed rapidly and he was screwing her as though it were his first and last time. The girl began to fling out the small obscenities again, and I knew that she was, indeed, a marvelous piece of machinery. I had heard of nymphomaniacs, but this child had them all beaten.
When Rolland finished in a burst of ribald shouts, he pulled out and left the panting girl unsatisfied and writhing on the desk. She drew her legs up as though she had cramps and kept crying for him to continue. But his pecker was growing soft, and he was incapable of doing a blessed thing for the child.
I stepped forward quickly and grabbed her knees. I pulled them apart and jammed my tool into the wide-open receptacle. Her legs immediately encircled my back, and her heels dug into my buttocks, pulling me close, then releasing me.
Naturally, my climax took a long time, and the girl hit her peak while I was still pumping up to a good head of steam. But she seemed to welcome the massive intruder and kept with me until, when I felt my second orgasm bubbling through my groin, she increased her activity and I knew that she was working up to what must be her fourth of the afternoon.
We came together this time, and I knew that the session was over. I washed in the small bathroom off the clinic, and when I returned to the room, Ellen and the schoolmaster were fully dressed.
"So we all have a little secret now," Rolland said. "Each of us knows something that could be dynamite to the other."
"Right," I said.
"And that means that each of us must maintain the silence of the Sphinx," Rolland said. "Am I right?"
We all agreed wholeheartedly. When Ellen left, she left with a happy heart, knowing that her secret was safe-and also knowing that she had one more male in her harem. And that male was Rolland. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she would be coming to visit him from time to time.
"I think I've done you a great favor," I said.
"You have a steady piece in that one."
"I know," he said. "I can work her in on Tuesdays, perhaps."
"Great Scott," I said. "You mean its that good?"
"Better," he said. "I have so many hot ones coming into the office for play, I have to weed them out and take only the best ones."
"How do you know which are the best ones?"
He winked. "I only weed them out after I've tried them," he said with a happy chuckle.
CHAPTER FIVE
In the ensuing months, Rolland and I used the doctor's examination routine on a bevy of girls in the school. There was Linda, the angelic-looking young girl with long golden hair who had lost her virginity to a carriage driver when they had become lost in a thick fog. There was Priscilla, a dark-haired lass with enormous breasts who had willingly given up her virginity to her younger brother and had gone on to seduce the entire football team at the school.
Best of all was Lolly, a charming young bundle of fire who had a penchant for taking a man's instrument into her mouth while another insinuated itself into her sweet little puss. She took us both on at one time. Lolly (we called her "Lollipop" because of her desire to have something in her mouth) couldn't remember where she had left her cherry, and we didn't press the point. All we knew was that she was willing, proficient, charming, and as sexy as the mother twat of the world.
Near the end of the term when we knew that our ready supply of young puss would be off on holidays and we would be left to our own devices and prowling the streets, I suggested to Rolland that we have a party with all the girls as a sort of farewell gesture. He thought it a great idea, and since he was a bachelor, it was decided to hold it in his flat.
Although Rolland did not make much money as schoolmaster, he had no family to keep and so had put his earnings into fine furniture and decorations for his large flat. The flat had three bedrooms, a library, a den, and a small sitting room, in addition to the usual rooms in a flat. He had a large Gramophone and a great selection of popular records. In addition, he had one of the greatest collections of pornographic literature I have ever seen. Fantastic.
To add more spice to the party, I invited Eclair, Audrey, and Shawn Wai-all of whom I had continued to enjoy in spite of the delightful bonanza I had discovered at the school. Instead of waning, my ardor seemed to be growing stronger with each passing day, and I had begun to think of myself as a male nymphomaniac.
The party was held on a Friday night after Althea and Nancy had gone north to visit Althea's relatives for the weekend. It was my intention to keep the party going as long as possible, with the girls going home at night and returning the following evenings. As it worked out, many of them stayed the entire weekend.
It began slowly, and we served the girls weak whiskey drinks to get them into the proper mood. To keep the two of us from being killed, Rolland had suggested that we invite a couple of other men. He hand-chose Allen Jipski, a mathematics teacher at the school and also a bachelor, and Doran Whitehouse, a Negro from British Guiana who was taking his master's degree at Cambridge. They were both youngish, handsome men with very friendly personalities. I was able to meet them briefly a week before the party and had determined that they were excellent choices.
We had all assembled in the large parlor to listen to records, and after a couple of mild drinks, I suggested a game that I had played as a child. It was a question-and-answer game, but I added one extra ingredient.
"The person who misses a question," I said, "must remove an article of clothing and toss it into the center of the room. The game is actually a sort of intellectual version of strip poker."
The girls squealed with delight at the game, and the men grinned from ear to ear. It was obvious that the game was to be a grand success.
We moved the furniture back to the walls and sat in a large circle around the room. I called out the first question, directed to Audrey.
"How high are the towers on London Bridge?"
She didn't know, so she removed her jacket and tossed it into the middle of the floor.
Next was Linda, and she answered correctly.
"How many shillings were there in a pound in 1860?" I asked Allen Zipski.
He didn't know, so his shirt joined Linda's jacket.
"All right, Priscilla," I said. "Tell me how many days the Napoleonic Wars lasted?"
She couldn't, so her blouse came off, and she tossed it gaily into the growing heap of clothing.
After fifteen minutes, everyone had lost at least one article of clothing and poor Ellen was in her panties and brassiere. I knew that she would probably wind up naked before anyone, so I began to give her easy questions.
"Whose statue is in Trafalgar Square?"
"The Duke of Brandywine," she said.
Everyone hooted and yelled, because they were certain the child had missed the question on purpose. But it was obvious that she really didn't know. She had a choice of which of her last two remaining articles to donate to the heap of clothing in the center of the rug. We waited with bated breath as she pondered her decision.
Suddenly, she unsnapped her brassiere and flipped it into he heap. Her heavy young breasts leaped into prominence, and I noticed that Doran Whitehouse was licking his lips and pressing his thighs together. I had erected almost as soon as the game had started and was deliberately framing difficult questions to get the game well underway.
At that point, the Negro had only a pair of white underpants covering his shimmering body, and I had noticed that the girls had been casting sidelong glances at the huge bulge in his crotch. I knew he had not erected, but his bulge was nonetheless fairly sizable.
I decided to make him the first person to lose out altogether. "Doran," I said, pursing my lips maliciously, "name the last three kings of Arabia."
To my utter surprise-and to the surprise of every other person in the room-he answered correctly.
I went around the room once more, skipping Ellen because she had only her panties left and only the Negro was up with her. Each person lost another article of clothing, and now three of the girls were in panties and brassieres. I had on my two-piece underwear, Rolland had on his underwear and both stockings, and Allen Zipski still had his trousers, although he was bare to the waist.
I kept working on Allen until he had only his underwear shorts, then forced Rolland to the same state of undress. When all the girls except Ellen had on only panties and bras, I went to work once more on the African.
"If you get this one, Doran," I said, "you may not only keep your drawers, but we shall elect you to Parliament. Who was the seventh vice-president of the United States?"
He smiled broadly and said softly, in his thick voice, "John C. Calhoun."
It was obvious that the man was a genius with a photographic memory. He had missed earlier questions in order to get down to his drawers, but now he was resisting the temptation of being the first one to become naked. I decided to strip him, in spite of his genius. I made a quick round of the room with extremely simple questions. In spite of it, Priscilla lost her brassiere, and we now had two sets of bare titties to ogle.
On the next time with Doran Whitehouse, I hit him with a devastating blow. "When was the planet Plutoid discovered, and who discovered it?"
He looked at me, and I noticed a half grin curling the corners of his mouth. He knew there was no such planet, but to his credit, he knew the date of the discovery of the planet Pluto, as well as its discoverer.
"Wrong," I said. "There is no such planet as Plutoid. A genius such as you should have known that."
He shrugged his massive black shoulders and stood up. He faced the girls, and they all looked up eagerly, obviously quite anxious to get a look at this black man's tool. Doran slid the white shorts down slowly. As his great soft tool began to show, it seemed to take an eternity for him to uncover all of it. From the crisp black pubic hairs, the long instrument stretched almost to his knees. The girls gasped when the great knob was exposed and we were looking at nearly nine inches of black African peter.
The rule was that, as individuals were stripped, they were to go to the pile of clothing and lie down in it until we were all naked. Doran went directly to the pile and lay down with a great sigh. The girls half raised to get a better look at his enormous dong.
From that point on, the questions were indeed tough, and Ellen lost her panties on the next round. She lay beside Doran, close enough to sense the powerful male smell of him but far enough away that her skin did not touch his. Her nearness, however, was doing things to him, and the enormous tool began a slow and steady rise to prominence.
Rolland questioned me each time my turn came, and he was being particularly ruthless. In no time at all, I was naked, and in spite of myself, I stood up with a tremendous throbbing hard-on that drew applause from those still seated in the circle.
One by one, the girls joined us on the pile of clothing, and within the very next round, I had Audrey on one side of me and Priscilla on the other. The area was getting crowded, so it was necessary for us to lie very close together.
When only Rolland and Linda remained in the circle, each with a single article of clothing, Ellen let out a tremendous whoop and closed both her hands around the great, imposing dork of Doran Whitehouse. Even with both hands clasping the brute, there were three or four inches of exposed pecker sticking into the air. Ellen jumped to her knees and, still holding Doran's throbbing tool, plunged the head of it into her mouth.
That set it off. Rolland and Linda slipped out of their last articles and flipped them onto the pile of bodies. I reached out for Priscilla, partly because I was fascinated by her enormous pink titties, and threw myself on top of her. Within seconds, there were sighs and grunts and groans and moans in the room. The pile of clothing provided a soft mattress beneath us, and I got to my knees between Priscilla's legs. She spread her legs wide, and I bent to put my mouth over her gash. As I did so, I felt activity at my crotch and realized that little Lolly had slid up between my legs and was groping for my hanging instrument. As my mouth closed over Priscilla's puss, Lolly found my cork and slid half of it into her mouth.
The African let out a magnificent yell as Ellen worked on his tool, her hands caressing his great ball-bag. His hands groped and found her pendant breasts, and she squealed with delight when his great, dark hands closed like a vise over them. I looked up from my repast and saw that Rolland had sunk his machine into the soft folds of Eclair's pussy. Allen was already actively screwing Audrey.
This left Linda and Shawn Wai to their own devices, but it was not necessary for me to be concerned about them having a good time. The next time I raised from the juicy puss I had been ramming, I saw that the beautiful Linda and the yellow-skinned Shawn Wai were in the soxante-neuf position and seemed quite happy with the arrangement.
Now that all the guests were being cared for, I crossed them out of my mind and bent to my enjoyable task with a renewed vigor and delight. My hands snaked up along Priscilla's pink body and grasped her jutting tits. I raised my buttocks a little and spread my legs more to give Lilly full sway at my genitals. She sucked hard on my tool, lashing it with her tongue while her small, delicate fingers tickled my hairy balls and probed at my pulsating anus.
My tongue darted into the sweet cavern of Priscilla's oozing pussy, and her buttocks gyrated and revolved under my gnawing pressure. I kissed the snapping wet lips and pushed my tongue hard against her clitoris and felt her body hump and buck under me. Her hands were dug into my hair, and she pressed my face tighter and tighter into her love tunnel.
The action down below was helping to raise me to fever pitch as the expert and adroit little Lolly sucked and lapped at my pulsating tiger.
"Switch time," Rolland Heffington called out. "Everybody switch partners before it's too late."
I hadn't thought of such a delightful idea, and reluctant as I was to leave my wonderful tandem situation, I was in favor of moving on to something new and strange. Since I had had all the girls in the room at one time or another, I decided to go for the one I had had at a most distant point in time. It was, of course, sweet little Audrey.
When Lolly let go of my aching cork, I crawled across several bodies and found Audrey staring at the enormous spike of the African. I knew she was about ready to plunge the black bolt into her mouth, but I had better plans for those sweet lips. I leaped upon her and, while I kissed her hungrily and passionately, rammed my wicked wrench into the innermost parts of her pussy. She gasped, returned my hot kiss, and promptly forgot about the monster pecker.
I raised my head from her lips just in time to see Doran's mammoth woman-killer disappear into Shawn Wai's waiting pussy. The Chinese girl screamed out in pain and pleasure as his huge balls knocked against her slim buttocks, signaling that he had penetrated her with the full measure of his offering.
Audrey was exceedingly sweet and pliable under my touch. She rose to me passionately and excitingly when I began my long, steady stroking.
"I've missed you," she said, drawing her words out between gasps.
"And I've missed you," I said, humping and jumping on her slippery body. She was all covered with perspiration-her own and somebody else's.
"I guess you know," she whispered, "that I love you very much."
"I love you, Audrey," I assured her. At that moment, I really did.
The sounds of love in the room heightened my passion and my pleasure as I fucked the lovely young girl. She clung to me with a vise-like grip, her strong young legs crushing my flanks, her hands clawing at my back. We came together and lay amid the thrashing, grunting, groaning, moaning, sighing bodies.
In a quiet moment, Audrey nibbled at my ear and whispered something so softly that I didn't hear it.
"What did you say?" I asked. "There's so much racket with the others going at it, I can't hear you."
"I said," she repeated, "that I'm going to have your baby. I'm pregnant."
"Indeed," I said. It wasn't a question and it wasn't an exclamation. I wasn't especially surprised, nor was I especially concerned. I had taken no precautions with her or with any of the girls, so I had more than half expected it sooner or later.
"Didn't you hear me?" she asked. "I said I'm going to have your baby."
"I heard you," I said. "I think it's marvelous."
She began to cry, and I kissed her sweet little lips and caressed her.
"Don't cry," I said. "It isn't the end of the world. Girls and women have babies all the time."
"What will I do?" she moaned. "My father will kill me."
"Hush," I said, pressing against her soft, warm, sweaty body. "Don't worry about him. Don't worry about anything. I shall take care of the entire matter."
"Are you going to help me get an abortion?"
I raised up and stared at the girl. "Are you crazy? Of course I'm not going to help you get an abortion. We're going to have that baby, and it will be ours. My God, child, a baby is an act of God. Let's count our blessings and be happy."
In the furor of the party, we let the matter slide, although Audrey didn't seem to enjoy the later festivities as much as she might have. She sat sullenly through the grand demonstration the African put on as he stood in the middle of the floor and masturbated. He shot a pearly stream so high in the air that it almost creamed the ceiling. Following his phenomenal act, Lolly did a marvelous job with her lips on the ready cork of the schoolmaster.
With the exception of a few hours of sleep for all members of the party, the festivities continued until late Sunday afternoon, when we all dressed and left the schoolmaster's flat. I walked outside with Audrey and Eclair and hailed a carriage. In the carriage, I told Eclair our happy news, and she hugged Audrey excitedly.
Audrey was not convinced of my sincerity in taking proper care of her until Monday morning, when I took her with me on a search of apartment buildings and found a small and comfortable flat within three blocks of my own flat.
"It is important that you continue in school until it becomes obvious that you are pregnant," I said. "To avoid your parents' finding you, I think you should enroll in another school. Don't worry, my beautiful young child. Everything will be fine. You will be most comfortable here, and I shall be around when ever you need me."
"I need you now," she said as she looked around the bright and cheerful flat. It had two bedrooms, a parlor, a small kitchen, and a formal dining room. It was, indeed, a wonderful flat for a young girl. I knew that it would be no problem bringing in a maid when she was unable to care for the flat. I would make certain that the maid was pretty-and very young.
I went to Audrey and took her in my arms. She melted against me, and her full breasts crushed against my chest.
"I shall always love you, my dear child," I said. "And I shall always care for you."
"But what about our baby?" she cried. "You're an old man, and the baby will still be young when you-when you're gone."
"Don't worry, sweets," I said. "I shall outlive the both of you. I feel like a young buck of fourteen right now."
CHAPTER SIX
The years that followed were extremely good to me. Audrey had her baby-a strapping boy whom we called Sidney-and two more after that. Besides that, Eclair, Linda, and Ellen all had children by me in the next few years after my first child was born to Audrey.
As my extra family grew, I moved them into larger and larger flats until it began to look as though I were running a children's home. In spite of the growing secret family and my fine little harem, my yearnings took me to more and more fields for new, strange, and exciting pussy.
Using my business as an excuse to spend more and more time away from home, I took a small flat right off Piccadilly Circus, and walking the streets there one Saturday night, I met Beth. Beth was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in my entire life. She had long blonde hair that came down to her buttocks when she combed it out. She had the deepest, bluest, most penetrating eyes I had ever seen. And the softest lips and most beautiful pink breasts in the entire world.
She was keenly attracted to older men, and my great shock of gray hair helped make me especially attractive to her. She came with me to the flat without the slightest hesitation.
"This first time," she said, "please let's not go all the way. You can do anything else you wish, but let's save the real thing until the next time."
"When will the next time be?"
"Soon," she said. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me gently on the lips. I swept the girl into my arms, and we kissed passionately. I put her on the bed and stared down at her fawn-like, ethereal beauty.
"You make it very difficult for me to promise what you ask," I said. "You are a most precious and desirable child, Beth. My impulses tell me to ravage you as you lie there on the bed, but I promise that it won't happen tonight."
She took me into her arms, and we kissed for a long moment. Then, slowly and deliciously, I removed her clothing, article by article, until she lay naked and vulnerable on the bed. When I had removed my own clothing, she stared at the gray hairs at my pubus and lost no time bringing me to full erection with her soft hands. Then she took me into her mouth, and while I sucked and kissed and tongued her sweet, young virgin slit, she worked on me like an expert.
"I'm coming," I warned when I felt the old familiar juices boiling in my groin.
She stayed with me and hungrily took all of my wicked ejaculation into her small mouth. She sucked the last drop from my softening pecker, and I knew that no other girl in the world would do this for a man of my age.
Within two months, though, I developed a tremendous drive to try someone else. Only occasionally did I visit the huge flat on Beachcomber Road where my harem and many children lived. Even less occasionally did I visit Althea, who now lived almost alone in a small flat in the same apartment building we had called home for so many years. Nancy had long ago married and moved to Kent, where her family had grown to seven.
One day in the autumn of the year I went out of the small float near the Circus in search of some new playmate. Beth was home with her parents, expecting my child, and I had no inclination to go home or to the large madhouse flat where my children lived with their mothers. Yet I was lonely.
Once again, the gay life of the Circus helped me. As I stood on the corner, watching the noisy automobiles drive crazily past, the small dark-haired girl came out of the shadows and tugged at my sleeve.
"Please, old man," she said in a sweet, high-pitched voice. "Could you be lending me a helping hand?"
I shifted my cane to my left hand and looked down at the lovely child. She had wide black eyes, a straight nose, and a very full, lovely mouth.
"Certainly, child," I said. "What can I do for you?"
"Can I have a shilling for bread."
"Where do you live?"
She started to back away, but I smiled at her and told her to stay.
"You look hungry," I said. "What is your name?"
"Elise," she said. "And I am hungry. I haven't eaten since breakfast, and that was only a small piece of toast."
I took Elise to a restaurant and watched her devour a grand helping of pot roast with all the trimmings. Then, without a word, I led her to my small flat. She looked at me with knowing eyes, and I knew that she was not only aware of what I desired, but quite willing to provide it. It was uncanny, I thought, how many young girls there were in the world who were fond-sexually fond-of old men.
When we were naked, I sat on the bed while Elise took my flaccid machine into her tiny hands. She worked on it for the better part of five minutes and managed to bring it to a semi-hardness that was not quite sufficient. I cupped her fine young breasts from behind as she worked on me, and kissed the soft down on her neck.
But the blasted blighter would not arise to full glory until the girl bent over me and took the knob into her mouth. After a few quick lashes with her tongue, the creature reared his great head and throbbed with its old familiar rigidity.
"Let's hurry, Elise," I said as I pushed her back onto the bed. "Speed is of the essence for a man of my age."
"You're not so old," she said. "I love you, Louis, and you're not old."
I made love to the girl in the old grand manner. I showered her body with kisses as my now erect tool rammed slowly but surely into the tight crevice of her virgin pussy. When I was all the way in, she gasped and thrashed about on the bed as though I were a young buck half killing her. She rose to me, stroke for stroke, and she came so quickly that I became concerned that I might not come at all.
On and on I screwed the willing lass until, after fifteen minutes of steady humping, my spunk dribbled out into the tight little love channel. I was so embarrassed by my pitiful performance that I gave the child twenty pounds and sent her on her way. I never saw her again.
I knew that my days were numbered now. I had lived a long life Of pleasure, and I knew that I had now only to wait for the Grim Reaper. And yet, the yearnings were there, strong and vital and clear. It was inconceivable to me that a man could have such strong and almost unbearable urges and not possess the ability to satisfy them.
In the ensuing years, I began to live more and more to myself. I had long since retired from business with an extremely comfortable pension, plus my savings, which brought me several thousand pounds a year in interest. As the years passed and my yearnings continued, I went in search of various means to revive my fine edge of virility.
It would have been an extreme joy to me to be able once more to ravage a fine young lass whose body was full of the vibrancy and joy of youth. I would have given my entire fortune to be able to enjoy a screw the way I had enjoyed almost all of them during my lifetime. I tried the artificial devices that were supposed to allow entry by a soft instrument-on the premise that, once inside, the instrument itself would enlarge.
To use this device, I found Laura in Battersea Park as she walked home from school-the same school that Audrey had attended so many years before. I took her to my empty flat in the nearby apartment building. Althea had long since passed away, and I was quite alone. All my girls had eventually married and had moved from the large flat.
Laura was not frightened of me, although I fell down in the bedroom several times as I tried to undress myself. Finally, the quick young lass undressed me and lay naked on the bed for me to try the new device. It was one of those semi-rigid plastic devices, and it worked grandly, I must report. Once I was inside the girl and her lips were kissing my face and neck, my charger erected mightily, and after twenty minutes, I felt a minor explosion in my loins and knew that I had enjoyed a tremendous orgasm. The best part, of course, was that Laura was also satisfied. When she left, she agreed to return the following week so that we could try again.
She never returned, and I began to spend more and more time in the small flat, sitting in the parlor in my rocking chair and staring out at Battersea Park, which was now filled with shiny, sleek, horn-blowing automobiles. I sat there year after year, waiting for death that never seemed to come.
In the next several years, I received word from time to time about my girls and my children. Audrey and Eclair were the first to go. They died quietly in their sleep. Then I received word that Sidney had been killed in a war somewhere-God, I don't even know where. I think he was with a United Nations force somewhere and a mine exploded.
I attended the funerals of Ellen and Linda and Priscilla. Shawn Wai had long since gone back to China, and little Lolly was murdered in a tavern row in Soho. She was too old and feeble to get out of the way when robbers came in, and one of them cut her down with a switchblade knife.
And that is the way my empire crumbled. And yet death would not come. I sat in the rocking chair and looked out at the park. Every morning, Hilda came to clean up the apartment and to cook my meals. She sometimes stayed the night, and I would lie in my bed, thinking about her lovely body in the next bedroom, and wish that my cork would arouse itself from its lethargy so that I could ravage her. She was not very young-perhaps forty or so-but I was in no condition to be particular. I would have taken her in a minute.
Each afternoon, now, I sit in the rocking chair and look out at the park as the young schoolgirls come prancing across on their way to their homes. Once in a while, there is a brief stirring in my loins as a particularly choice one comes by. Always there is the deep longing and finely tuned yearnings for one of their young bodies.
But that, I know, is all behind me now. Only last week, the young fellow from The Times came to see me about a story. It seems that I am something of a celebrity because of my age. I shall never forget his most impertinent question.
"Tell me, old man," he said, smiling a little impishly as he spoke, "I think perhaps our readers might like to know the answer which you apparently have found."
"And what answer is that, young man?" I asked.
"Well," he said, "you're the oldest man in England, Mr. Appleby. After all, a hundred and fifteen is nothing to be sneezed at. Can you tell my readers the secret of long life?"
"There's no secret, young man," I said. "No secret at all."
"Well, you must have done something right in your life to be able to live so long. Don't you have any advice for young people who might want to live this long?"
"First off, young fellow," I said, looking him squarely in the eyes, "I don't know why in hell anybody would ever want to live this long. But if they must, here is what they must do ... . " I paused purposely and watched the young man as he shifted forward in his chair.
"Yes?" he said. "You were going to say?"
"I was going to say," I said, pulling my shawl more tightly over my shoulders to ward off the chill of the crisp autumn day, "that you can bloody well go fuck yourself. And so can your goddamn readers."
He left shortly thereafter, probably because I fell asleep in the chair and hefty old Hilda made him leave. But when she came back from letting him out and chastised me for using such foul language in front of the press, I looked up at her big tits and wide hips and said, "Take those clothes off, my good woman, and I'll show you the secret of long life."
God, I wanted that woman, even if she was a trifle old.
