"Switch Mates" was simultaneously published in London and Paris as a first novel by the young Australian "Avante-Garde" writer, Gene Dexter. It created a short-lived sensation and was quickly banned in both cities. However, copies of the original printing soon became collector's items among conoisseur's of modern errtica. They appreciated the unusual boldness and psychological verity of this incisive novel of nymphomania, lesbianism and an accompanying host of fascinating clinical perversions.
Actually, although nymphonania's such as Messalina and Catherine the Great have paraded through the pages of history, few in-depth studies of the female counterpart of the "Don Juan" have actually been made. The perennially manhungry female whose rampant lust is never satisfied is completely revealed in her modern form in "Switch Mates."
The question arises as to how these woman, possessing such an overwhelming sex-drive which forces them to physically possess every man they meet, can manage to find fulfillment. What happens as they achieve the utmost sexual intimacy with a phenomenal number of males . . . and in some cases, females as well? In short, how do they get away with it?
The brilliant psychiatrist, G. Kirchow states: "The female can disguise her perversions much better than the male. Her sexual life is not as specialized as it has to be in the male. It is interesting to note that the average woman hardly knows that such things as perversions exist, thus making her an "easy mark" when she encounters an aggressive sexual psychopath of her own sex.
"Most women are trained by the man so that sexually they become whatever he is. It depends on him whether they develope into normal sexual objects or into unknowing perverts. They unconsciously adopt the neuroses of the men they are fixated upon. I have seen numerous woman in my office who discussed the vilest clinical perversions which their husbands or lovers had taught them to perform."
If this enlightening psychological analysis is kept in mind, the causes of the sexual adventures, and misadventures, occuring in this fastpaced novel will soon become apparent. Rarely has a certain type of "love among the moderns" been shown with such stark truth.
Continental Classics is reprinting in its entirety this complete and unexpurgated edition of "Switch Mates". Because of the nature of its subject matter, it is recommended for serious students of clinical psychological abnormalities and the mature adult reader only.
Allan Saunders, M.A. New York City February, 1968
Archive Note: The truly amazing number of misspellings in the original pocketbook are faithfully reproduced in this text. No attempt whatsoever has been made to correct the misspelled or misused words.
CHAPTER I
Looking into his eyes, Ella slowly undid his flybuttons.
George stood very still, his mouth open, his eyes glazed with anticipation, his little dwarf's hands resting on her hare breasts. He was barely four feet tall, with short arms and legs but almost a full-grown body. Ella, her nude body gleaming in the bright firelight, was sitting on the side of the divan bed; George was standing in front of her; this made their heights almost equal.
Ella's delicately pushing fingers had reached the top button of the trousers. She undid the belt, and parted the ends of the trousers, so that they slid to the floor. She lifted hit shirt and rolled it up fast half-way up his chest. With obvious pleasure she ran her hands along the hairs on his stomach to the edge of his pants, and then over them.
George shivered as his cock shot up, taut under her caress through the material. A slight convulsion passed through his stomach as her fingers again passed softly under his balls and over the taut member. Delicately, she turned the pants down, revealing the thick pubic growth. As she slid the pants down, his cock, liberated, shot up, twitching. His fingers dug themselves into the flesh of her breasts.
"It's a beauty," Ella said, with a breathless giggle. "I thought it was going to be ever so tiny."
"I'm not a midget," George said; I'm a dwarf"
"Tell me about the difference later," Ella said, her hand was now under his foreskin, which she drew back as far as she could. Her other hand gripped his balls. She squeezed hard now with both hands. The top of his cock changed from a deep red to a near purple, the twitch of the erection became more and more pronounced. Suddenly she let go her grip, and punched him hard in the stomach. His trousers and pants still trailing round his ankles, he fell down on the floor.
"What do you think you're doing" be said. He began to get up, but Ella jumped up, and stood over him, one bare foot firmly on his parts.
"I like hurting people," she said. "That's why I agreed to come here." She rested on her foot, her whole weight bearing down on his middle. To protect himself, he opened his legs, as the pressure on his balls was becoming unbearable. Ella Gent down, and ripped off his trousers and pants, and then passed the two ends of his shirt over his head and tied them.
"You can do what you like," George said, "But don't injure me." Ella stood him up and pushed him towards the bed, and onto it.
"I won't hurt you too much," she said. "I'm just going to enjoy myself." She got up, brought a chair, and then another one, and placed them, legs sideways at each end of the bed. On one chair she placed a pillow, lifted George's head and shoulders onto the pillow on the chair, facing head down to the bed, and passed his belt over his head and one of the legs of the chair. She now brought the other chair nearer, threw a cushion across its legs, and raised his legs onto it. His body, from half-way up his thighs to his chest was now suspended facing downwards, over the bed. His cock and balls hung down in the middle. The erection, under the impact of fright, had disappeared, and the cock hung almost limply.
"Comfortable, little man?" Ella asked.
"Whatever you do, don't hurt me too much," George's voice answered from under the shirt.
"I'm going to give us both a good time," Ella said. She switched on the bedside lamp, and arranged the bedside table so that the part of George's body which was suspended over the bed wag clearly visible.
"I like to Bee what I'm doing," she said. She went off to a corner of the room gome string, and returned with a tablespoon, a bottle of iodine and a metal-net flyswatter. She inserted the spoon in his anus, and worked it right in, turning it round and round sideways. Round the top of the spoon she tied one end of the string; the other end she passed between his thighs, and round his balls in a knot, the loose end hanging down. She smiled as she saw his cock beginning to harden again. She flipped it a few times with the swatter, not too hard., and jerked at the loose end of the string at the sale time. She hid this a few times, till his cock was really hard, then she opened the bottle of iodine, dipped in the brush, and with soft strokes begain to paint his testicles, and his cock. As she approached the foreskin with the brush, the effect of the iodine on the scrotum already began to make itself felt.
"Be careful," George muttered. But his voice was losing its tinge of fear. As the brush with the iodine ran over the join of his foreskin, his cock jerked up violently, almost knocking the bottle of iodine out of her hand. Ella laughed.
"Naughty boy," she said. She pulled the throbbing cock down, and ran her tongue over the purpling bulbous head. Then she applied the iodine to the bead, liberally, and dug the brush into the little slit at the top which, under the excitement, had become dilated and had opened up. George squirmed slightly as she did this.
"Sorry, darling," she said. "I just did n't want you catching cold, so I thought I'd warm you up a bit. She got off the bed again, went over to the table, and after some rummaging around, returned, with a pot of mustard, a pot of pepper a bottle of Sloan's linament, a packet of salt, a bottle of olive oil, and an eye-drop syringe. She arranged the article she had brought at the side of the bed, settled herself comfortably, so that his parts were near her face. She opened the bottle of oil, dipped the syringe into it, till it was full, and inserted its squat smooth top into the opening of his cock. She worked the glass tube well inside, and then squeezed the rubber container as hard qs she could. Then she placed her fingers round the cock, and holding tight, worked her hand right down. A great jerk of the member told her that the oil had gone through as intended. She filled the syrings again, and repeat the process.
"How does that feel, little man" she asked.
"Lovely", said George.
Ella began to. squeeze in a third lot of oil.
"Maybe you'd like us just to make love in the normal way?" she asked. "No," said George. "I can't."
"I thought you couldn't," said Ella. "You just like to masturbate, eh?"
"Yes," said George. "Nothing else gives me a kick."
"I thought as much," said Ella, laughing. "How do you do it on your own? In front of a mirror?"
"Yes, and other ways too," said George. "You know you've got a lovely touch. Just like silk. What's that you're putting in? Water?"
"No," said Ella. "Oil."
"It feels wonderful," said George. "Especially when you force it right through. I suppose I shall piss it out again?"
"Yes, and some of it should come out with your spunk." Ella had now forced a good quarter of a pint of oil into George's dilating member. She now put the syringe down, and put the bottle on the floor by the bed. Next she took the mustard, placed a large quantity on her hand, and gently at first, rubbed it into his scrotum and pulsating penis. Every time the pulsations became too frequent, she stopped ,took up the fly-swatter and the end of the string, and, jerking hard on the string, hit the cock sharply all over with the swatter. This was to jolt him out of the climax, for which she was not ready by a long way. She applied more and more mustard, rubbing it in with both hands, and adding pepper copiously. The cock was now a bright purple in colour, and each little vein stood out distinctly. The large vein near the surface had swollen up enormously. She wiped her hands, picked up the metal scourer and her face directly under his hanging balls, began to massage his parts vigorously with the scourer. The treatment was so rough, that Georges's erection diminished. Quickly, by flipping the front join of his foreskin with the swatter, she brought, it back again, and then went on rubbing the flaming and near-bursting parts with the scourer.
George squirmed in ecstasy. "Make me come you bitch," he moaned. "Make me come, will you? I shall go mad, if yon don't."
Ella smiled. "What are you going to do if I let one of your hands free? she asked coyly.
Yes, let my hand get at it," George cried eagerly. "Let me get at it. I tell you I've got to do it. I just can't stand this ny more!"
"So you're prepared to toss yourself off, and leave a lady in the lurch?" Ella said.
"Let me do it, darling," George moaned. "Or do it for me. It's beginning to boil inside me, that's how it feels. Do it for me, quickly."
"Patience, little man with a big cock," said Ella. She put the scourer down, and opened the linament, took his pants off the floor and poured half the bottle onto the cloth.
"This is going to make you feel better," she said, and with a savage movement she applied the sopping cloth to his raw parts. As the linament seeped through the raw skin, George squirmed in pain. He tried to free himself, but stopped after a vicious punch in his stomach from underneath. Ella now stood up, took the metal swatter, and began to beat as hard as she could on his behind. She noted with satisfaction, that, though George was in pain from the linament, and (he vicious beating on his buttocks, his cock still remained stiff. The spoon stuck in George's behind twitched in unison, to the palpitations of his cock. She stopped beating him, poured some oil over his buttocks, and laid herself down again under his parts. The pain from the application of linament must have been passing off, ^because George's body had stopped squirming. She could hear him breathing heavily.
"Finish it for me, please finish it for me," he moaned. Ella raised her head, and ran her wet tongue lightly over the bursting purple bulb of his vastly swollen member. The convulsion of rapture which ran over George's body amused her. The twitching became frantic. She realised that George was trying to reach the climax. She moved away, and jerked hard at the string, which had now bitten deeply into the skin of his scrotum. She took the swatter, and hit the cock, hard, and then again, harder each time. A small vein had burst, and the blood ran freely. The twitching slowed down. Ge ge was beginning to know the ropes.
"There's a good little boy," she said. "Now you just calm down, and let mummy take care of your little prick. Just imagine that mummy's giving you a nice bath now, and any minute her hands, with the soap on them, are going to get round, to the funny little thing in the middle, and then mummy's going to look very serious and absent-minded as if she hadn't noticed hat lovely swelling-up, and mummy's hand is going to go round and round, with the soap on it, and suddenly the first young spunk is going to shoot out, all over mummy and all over everything, but of course mummy will pretend she hasn't noticed anything and she will just go on bathing her little boy, as if nothing had happened at all... That's how it was, wasn't, little man? That's how it all started, didn't it?"
"Yes, said George." "How ever did you guess."
Ella laughed, took the salt, and covered the cock in it, waiting for the pain to come through. Then she took the scourer again, and began to rub the salt in. George squirmed again, but not as much as he had done when she applied the linament.
"It was your mother who started you tossing yourself off?" she said.
"Yes", said George. "She used to say that she was worried about my height, and that's why she had to massage me. After my father died, she began to drink, and when she was really drunk she used to hurt me on purpose. After she'd tossed me off, she wouldn't stop, but would go on and on, sometimes she used to toss me off about ten times a night, and my cock would be as swollen as a narrow for days. Often she made it bleed. If she got really drunk and could hardly move herself, she used to make me stand up on a low table we had in front of her and do it myself. If I didn't come within forty seconds by her watch, she used to beat me across the balls."
"Did she get you to make love to her in the normal way." Ella asked curiously.
"No, but I had to do it for her, with all sorts of things. She said it was for her rheumatism."
"Nice mother!" said Ella. "It's wonder you never split on her."
"By the time my father died I was already so used to doing it, I enjoyed it so much, except for the times when she really hurt me, that I never wanted it to stop."
Ella jerked at the string, and beat the top of his cock and his inflamed scrotum reflectivelly. "Strikes me your mother and I have a lot in common," she said. "Where's your mother now?"
"She died five years ago," George said.
"Poor little man!" said Ella. And you're been on your own ever since?"
"Yes," said George.
"In my case," said Ella, "it was my father who started me in my sexual preferences. He was already an old man when I was born, and by the time I reached puberty, he was impotent. My mother died when I was eleven, and I was the only child. He got me to sleep him because he said he was lonely after mummy's death. Whenever I woke up in the night, I used to find his hand on my cunt. I didn't mind because it was very pleasant. A little after that he got his finger right inside, and it hurt quite a lot. But after that it was even more pleasant. Then he taught me to do it myself, with candles and tooth-brushes. After I'd got so used to it, (hat I couldn't have done without it, he used to make me do it lying on the table in fron of him, while he sat in the nude with an electric massage machine rubbing his dry old cock. It used to take hours for the machine to work, and when he was coming I had to get off the table and receive the lithe spunk he could manage in my mouth. Of course, I haven't been exactly normal since. I think that's why I was so attracted to you when I saw you in the street today."
"But you didn't beat your father," said George.
"Oh yes, I did," said Ella. As he got older and older, he used to get me to beat his balls with a brush while the electric massager was rubbing his cock. He taught me a lot about men, before He died." She smiled reflectively, lazily placed a pillow under her head so that his balls and prick were barely half an inch from her mouth. Her tongue rubbed itself round the top of his cock, in the crevices round the join of the string, and into the little hole at the top. George's stomach heaved with ecstasy.
"Patience, little man, I won't be long now" said Ella. Her lips closed firmly round the top of his cock, and she began to blow. A strange belching sound told her that the air had passed through the passage of the cock, and had gone somewhere inside. She took a deep breath, and blew again. For about ten minutes she repeated the process. Then she got up quickly, and came back with a big kettle full of water, and a shopping bag from she took out a large very tall plastic funnel with a thick end. She got back to her previous position, took a mouthful from the kettle and squirted it in fiercely into the open of his prick. She went on and on until the kettle was empty, then she placed the end of the funnel in her cunt, turned round so that she was lying with her cunt directly under his prick. She put the cock into the funnel, and began to work the funnel up and down, at the same time jerking at the string which she had tied round the hand which she was using to operate the funnel. With the other hand she poured the rest of the oil into the funnel, took the metal swatter and began to beat his balls with it. At the same time the edge of the funnel was rubbing his cock. Her movements got faster and faster. She began to squirm and to maon jerking at his balls harder and harder and beating them ever more viciously with the swatter. Suddenly she let out a hoarse scream, threw the swatter away, grabbed his prick, and thrashed it viciously up and down, the head in the funnel.
"Let it go", George shouted, let it go..."
She was now like someone demented, as the orgasm clutched at her entrails.. At the same time there was a hissing noise from George's cock, of hair escaping, then the spunk, mixed with oil and water and air shot out like a dam bursting and poured into the funnel. More and more fluid gushed out of the raw purple cock, pulsating in its desperate frenzy, and after that the yellow rush of urine. The funnel over flowed, and the liquids went over her body. Like a madwoman she twisted round to place her face under the jet, rubbing the fluids over her body. With a few swift movements, she untied him, kicked the chairs off the bed, tore his shirt off his head, twisted round on top of him; her cunt at his face, and released her own urine.
After that they lay in silence for a long time in the sodden bed.
At length Ella said "we'd better have a bath and clear all this up."
George's body, with its tiny arms and legs, and the limp bruised cock and scrotum lying now limply on his stomach, turned round to hers. He took her face in his little hands, and then suddenly he kissed her. "Thank you", he said.
Ella looked back at him without saying a word. A light smile began to form itself round her lip.
"Do you know", she said." Something quite funny has just occuerred to me. "We don't even know each other's names!..."
And they both laughed.
CHAPTER II
George and Ella had met accidentally in the street. There were many people in the street, as Ella was walking home, and she did not notice George, owing to his height, and crashed straight into him.
From George's point of view, his head crashed into a soft female stomach and his hands, which he had in front of him-holding a parcel-crashed pleasantly into a cunt. Or rather, the cunt hurled itself at his hands.
Ella never said Sorry, nor did George, so there was quite a little pause before they disengaged themselves in the crowd. When Ella saw the dwarf properly, and noticed the lewd arrogant expression in his eyes, she was delighted. She judged the dwarf to be about 30 year old. She herself was 34. Her eyes ran down his body with interest. She giggled aloud, as her eyes rested on the front of his trousered body and as the thought occured to her that his cock and balls were probably tin), like a monkey's. Then she thought of the enormous parts male goats have, and she again looked down at his body-speculatively. On an impulse, she reached out her hands and placed it flat against his parts.
'That's what I call destiny," said George, pleasantly. A few passers-by in the busy street gazed at them curiously. A fourteen year old girl, her hand in her mother's, sniggered. The mother pulled her away and muttered "Come on" in a disgusted voice. A red-nosed old woman remarked to her rednosed male companion "Disgusting." Ella and George, their hands on each other's centres of pleasure smiled.
"I'm an Irishman," George announced suddenly. "The way all these English bastards are looking at us, you'd think didn't know what a cunt was."
"I think I'm going to like you," said Ella "Shall we go somewhere and have a fuck right away, or shall we have a drink first?"
"Let's have a drink first," said George. "We'll give the bloody English something to think about in the pub, eh?"
"I'm English myself," said Ella, laughing. She had a nice face, blonde hair, a good figure, and she was dressed reasonably well.
They went into the saloon bar of the first pub they came to, a dowdy brown structure in the English tradition, with a disagreable looking woman behind the bar, assisted by a pimply common-looking youth. About half a dozen customers were already ranged round the bar-a mixture of roughish workmen some better-dressed types who were probably clerks, and a couple of fattish women.
"You can't call yourself English," George said as they made their way to the bar. "No woman has nationality. If a woman sleeps with a negro, then she's a negress. If she goes to bed with a Persian, then she's also Persian. And so on. It's only men who keep up the illusion of nationality."
George's short stature had already excited attention, as they entered the bar. Now his Irish accent, and forcible sentiments increased the general public curiosity still further.
George' face came up to just above the bar. He plonked down a pound note. "What will you have?" "He said to Ella."
"A pint, and a drop of something stronger for me rheumatism," said Ella, lighting a big cigar which she had produced from her handbag.
"Two pints and two double-Scotches," ordered! George. A workman at the far end of the bar guffawed. George immediately spun round in his direction.
"Why don't you laugh right out?** he said. "What you really want to say is, look at that Funny Little Bleeder, I wonder what size he is under his trousers.'*
"All right, mate, take it easy,** said the workman, who was actually quite a nice old chap, with a pleasant vacant face, a drooping mouth and dirty fingernails. "It's a free country, ain*t it?
"Free country?" said Ella, who had already swallowed down half her pint," I'd call it he stupidest most bigotted most limited and most despotical pisshole of an island in the world."
The old woman behind the bar looked even more unfriendly. "Now, now," she said. "Please!"
"And the lady's English," George said triumphantly. "That's what I'd call inside information."
"I suppose you're Communist," the workman said to Ella.
"I'm not even a Lesbian," replied Ella. I like plenty of money, and I like men. But I don't like cant."
"Now, now," said the old woman behind the bar. "No swearing and bad language here, if you don't mind."
"She said cant," said George.
"And I heard her say it," said the old woman grimly. "And shame on her, too."
The other male customers in the bar sniggered. The woman did their best to look unconcerned.
"Madam," said George. "Do you know what cant is?"
"Look here mister," said the old woman, "I've had four four children myself, so I should know what's bad language and what isn't. And I'd be obliged to you if you kept your conversation decent. Otherwise I'll have to ask you to go."
"They didn't mean any harm, Mrs. Smith" said one of the clerks.
The old woman snorted. "I don't like to turn anybody away these days, not with the way the trade is. But I'm not standing for no foul language in this house."
"He said CANT," explained the clerk.
"Now don't you start as well," said the old woman.
"CANT means hypocrisy," persisted the clerk.
"What a terrible thing to say; apart from using the language," said the old woman. "You might as well call every mother a hypocrite."
"Cant and not cunt," said George. The two women customers at the bar looked at George and Ella with strong disapproval.
"Now, sir," said the old woman. "That will be the last time if you please."
"They're in the right, Mrs. Smith," said the worman. "There nothing wrong in talking about CANT."
"What's the matter with everybody to-day? said the old woman with despair.
"CANT and not CUNT," repeated George. The confusion was too much for the male customers, all of whom now sniggered.
"I think you've all gone mad," said the old woman.
"CANT and not CUNT," repeated George loudly.
"I'd rather talk about CUNT," said Ella distinctly.
"We can't talk about cunt here," said George. "It's not allowed."
"Come on mate, keep the party clean," said the workman.
Ella swallowed down her Scotch at one gulp, and took another swig of beer. George whose drinking appetites seemed to be similar to hers, had already finished his beer and Scotch.
"Same again," said Ella, putting down a five-pound note. The old woman hesitated. "And a drink all round for everybody," said Ella. That was too much for Mrs. Smith. She served the drinks. The workmen and the clerks took pints, the two women customers Gin and Lime.
"And one for yourself," said Ella. Mrs. Smith, with a resigned expression, took a Gin for herself.
Ella lifted her glass. "Ants in your pants!" she said.
"And crabs in your cockpits!" added George.
"Cheers!" said the two women customers. The men said "Good luck, and here's to you. Generally, the atmosphere had become quite cordial."
"All the best," said Mrs. Smith. The young pimply barman was obviously enjoying the conversation. He didn't say anything at all, but kept washing up and drying the same glasses. As he sipped his pint, he stole an occasional look at Ella's figure.
"Now what were we talking about?" said Ella. The old woman shifted uneasily.
"English hypocrisy. I can't use the word cant because the hostess doesn't approve."
"I don't want a hear a lot of talk about politics." "Said Ella." "I prefer to hear men talking about cunt. It's more natural."
"We can't talk about cunt either," said George. "It sounds too much like cant."
"Now look here, mate," said the workmean, "I said let's keep the party clean, didn't I?"
"What party," said George. "The Conservative party?"
"You're trying to be funny now," said the workman."
"Apparently I can't help being funny," said George. "After all you started laughing as soon as I came in."
"That's fair enough," said the clerk who had spoken before. "After all, there's no need to laugh at the man just because he's smaller than the rest of us."
"Hear, hear!" said the two women customers.
"I didn't mean to laugh at the little bleeder," said the workman. "It just sort of struck me as funny, the way he came in, like, with the young lady, if you know what I mean."
"The strange thing about the English," said George, looking at the workman with interest. "Is that so many of them are ignorant of the simplest vocabulary of their own language. The effort of putting English sentences together logically and correctly seems to be beyond the capacity of most Englishmen."
"Tere's no need to get nasty," said the workman.
"I shall get as nasty as I like," said George. "And you can't stop me, because you're too much of a moral coward to hit someone so much smaller than yourself."
"That's why I said we shouldn't talk about politics," said Ella. Politics always lead to trouble."
"Hear, hear!" said the two women customers.
A second workman, standing nearest to George, now joined that conversation. "I must say" he said, "that on the whole I agree with my mate in the corner. Doesn't matter how small we are, we still got to be decent, ain't we?"
"Decency is relative," said George. "If a small boy takes out his cock in the street to pee, nobody minds."
"Now, now" said Mrs. Smith.
"That's where you're wrong," said the second workman to George. "What you've said just now already isn't decent."
"You mean the word cock?" said George.
"That's right."
"But haven't you ever said old cock?" asked George.
"Maybe I have," said the workman." "But old cock is a different expression."
He eans old cock is cleaner than young cock," said Ella.
"There isn't no such expression as young cock," said the workman.
"But he was talking about a young cock," insisted Ella. "You can't call a young boy's cock anything except a young cock, can you?"
"Another example of cant," said George.
I think what the small gentleman means," said one of the two women customers, "is that words only seem indecent sometimes. At other times the same words would souud perfectly all right."
"But we've got to act civilized," said another of the clerks. "Otherwise where would we all be?"
"In bed," said Ella.
"That's what I mean," said the clerk.
"You don't believe in going to bed with a woman?" asked Ella.
"Maybe I do, but I don't go round talking about it."
"But you go round thinking about it," said George.
"But what I think is my own business."
"And what I say is my own business," said George. "It's a matter of taste."
"Same again all round, Mrs. Smith," said the workman in the corner.
"The English," said George reflectively when the drinks had been served, have a secret religion. That religion is their so-called fear of six attractive expressions: cunt, cock, fuck, toss-off, suck off, shit."
"Now I thought we were going to keep it all clean," said the first workman.
"I'm examining the problem as a psychologist," said George.
"Now that I've heard the small gentleman speak," said the other woman customer. "I must say that I agree with my friend here that he's got something."
"He has," said Ella, "I've felt it myself."
"I'm sure I don't know," said Mrs. Smith.
"I don't hold with using those words in this present company," said the second workman. "Especially seeing as how it's mixed company."
"All right," said George, vagina penis..."
"Now, now please!" said Mrs. Smith. "Whatever you do, don't use that first word. That really is a terrible word."
"I suggest we put the matter to the vote," said Ella.
"Good idea," said the first clerk.
The women customers and the barman all nodded their approval.
"Very well, ladies and gentlemen," said George, "we shall now put the matter to the vote. It's a question of whether or not for purposes of serious discussion the expressions cunt, cock, fuck, toss-off, suck-off, shit should be used in the present company. Those who are for the use of these expressions, please raise their hands." The first clerk, the two women customers, Ella, the barman and George himself raised their hands.
"That makes six for," said George. "Now against." The two workmen who had spoken, the second clerk, and Mrs. Smith raised their hands. "Four against," said
George. He turned to the third workman. "And you?"
"I don't mind ode way or the other," said the third workman. "The beer's good there's a warm fire here, and I don't believe in arguing with nobody."
"So that settles the matter," said Ella. "The opposition can now retire to the public bar, and leave he ladies and gentlemen to talk dirt seriously."
After a short conference the two Workmen and the objecting clerk took themselves off. The barman carried over their unfinished drinks to the public bar counter. The remaining party, by mutual consent disposed themselves round the large plain table by the fire.
"A victory for honesty of expression," said George. "Ladies and gentlemen, to pass the time away pleasantly I suggest that each of us now tells the others about the most interesting sexual experience in bis or her life. Absolute frankness is essential. And for that reason, to help the more timid of you to discard your remaining inhibitions, I propose that I should be the first one to tell you about the most interesting sexual experience in my life.
This statement met with general approval, more drinks were ordered, and George was just about to begin, when the bar door opened and a smart elderly man accompanied by a very elegant female very much younger than himself walked in.
"Good evening Mrs. Smith," said the man.
"Good evening, major," said Mrs. Smith. She cast an appealing look, at the group round the table, as she served the two new arrivals with drinks.
George rapped the table. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said in a loud voice, let me remind you, before I begin, of the six expressions which have united us here: Cunt, Cock, Fuck, Toss-Off, Suck-Off, Shit."
Mrs. Smith groaned in consternation. The Major and the woman both turned round and both studied the group at the table attentively ""What do you think?" the Major asked his companion.
"I agree with you," said the woman.
To Mrs. Smith's horror, the major and the woman now went over to the table.
"Excuse me," said the Major, "I hope we're not butting in, but we couldn't hear certain words which were just spoken here."
"Well?" demanded Ella.
"Normally our trouble," said the Major, "is that we're always bored." We come here almost every night because we're bored. After a time in here we're even more bored, and we go somewhere else where we get even more bored. In fact we're always bored. But to-night, for the first time in my life, I have heard certain words joined together which intrigued me enormously and broke the spell of that boredom. May we join you?"
"Certainly," replied Ella. The two arrivals sat down, and George explained briefly what had transpired in the bar so far.
"Wonderful," said the Major, "Count us in. And now fire away."
George took a gulp of whiskey, a good swig of beer, and began his story.
CHAPTER III
Before I came to England, at the age of twenty began George, "I was student at Mulligatawny University in Southern Eire.
I was actually studying gynaecology as I decided that my height and preferences, made me particularly suitable for this branch of medicine.
My father and mother being dead, my uncle, who was a small grocer in Wexford, contributed to the cost of my studies. During the holidays, however, I was obliged either to help him in his shop or to fend for myself. Having had a surfeit of serving groceries during previous holidays, I decided one year, when I had already been at the University three years, to obtain temporary employment myself.
As it happened, a travelling circus was passing through Mulligatawny, about a week before the end of term, and, in company with some friends, I decided to see the show.
The circus was of good reputation, and many of the. numbers were very well done. There were several clowns of small stature, which caused me some embarrassment as the clowns, upon seeing me, did not hesitate to draw the attention of the audience to me in various uncouth ways. I suppose I might as well use the term dwarfs, because that is what they were. Altogether, there were four of them, the smallest being not very much over three feet tall. During the interval my friends from the university and I went over the road to a tavern, and had as many drinks as we could manage in the time. Owing to my state of exasperation, having been rather humiliated by the clowns, I drank even more then my friends, lacing the customary glasses of Guinness with numerous double whiskeysto which, at the time, I was not as accustomed as I am now.
We returned to the circus, and the second half of the performance had not been under way very long before the clowns appeared again. They had obviously worked out a strategy to discomfort me as much as possible, and the roars of laughter from the audience, at jokes made at my expense, soon convinced me that, in the interests of my dignity, I had either better leave the show altogether, or else find a method to put the clowns in their place, by humiliating them even more than they had humiliated me.
Now, as luck would have it, I was very soon given the opportunity to do this. After the clowns went off, as they did before the beginning of each act (to re-appear after the act agaain), a troupe of elephants ambled onto the stage, in charge of a muscular Hindu girl dressed in nothing beyond a turban and some nominal pieces of gauzy lace here and there. I noticed at once that all the elephants were females. One of them, moreover, seemed to have some difficulty in moving her hind legs, and every so often would stop and go through a set of motions very akin to scratching, her trunk clutching desperately at the organ between her vast thighs. Something struck a cord in my mind, and I at once understood what was the matter. Now I don't know if anyone else here has had any practical experience of gynaecology, but .the work of gynaecologist consists usually to a very great extent in the extractions from the cunts of adolescent girls of such extraneous bodies as knife-handles, spoons, torch batte ries, tooth brushes, pieces of wood of surprising roughness, case-handles, combs, and various other articles which the maidens use as substitutes for the male member (which the artificial conventions of modern society withold from their proximity.) In the same way, no doubt, the young elephant had inserted some object into her cunt for the purposes, but subsequently, her trunk still being too short perhaps, or the object itself being too deeply embedded, found herself in the same uncomfortable plight as that of any very young human female who has to apply for medical assistance in having an extraneous object removed from her fanny.
As the act went on, I became more and more certain that I was right. The elephant became more and more irritable, dislocated the act as such, and several times seemed to be on the point of becoming dangerous both to the Hindu Trainer and to the audience. As soon as the act was over, I slipped out and made my way to the back back of the tent, and very soon found where the elephants were quartered. The Hindu, who was in charge of the beasts, seemed to be having some trouble with the elephant whose behaviour had attracted my attention. To tame the beast the Hindu kept shouting and waving his arms. The elephant, already exasperated beyond endurance, could not stand the additional irritant, and suddenly clasped the Hindu in her trunk and hurled him to the far end of the small enclosure terrified, the Hindu picked himself up and, limping, hurried off.
I entered the enclosure and went straight up to the elephant. She regarded me belligerently. I stopped in front of her sat down on the ground and, without saying a word, made a hole in the ground, took out my pipe and slowly dropped it into the hole. Then I went through a slow pantomime of desperately trying to retrieve the pipe out of the hole, I repeated the pantomime over and over again, and the great beast watched me attentively, its little eyes no longer hostile. Eventually it understood the import of my gestures. It let out a great bellow, and hopeessly thrashed its great trunk between its thighs. The meaning of my pantomime now clearly having been understood. I now uttered a sudden loud scream, then stood perfectly still for a few moments, and then, burying my hand deep into the hole which I had made in the ground I extricated the pipe and held it up for the elephant to see. I repeated this pantomime also, laying great stress on absolute silence and absolute stillness after I had let out my scream preparatory to extricating the pipe from the ground. At each scream, the great beast eyed me sagely, and kept perfectly still. She understood -or so I hoped -that I proposed to help her and that I could not help her unless she kept perfectly still during the operation.
At last it seemed to me that it was perfectly safe for me to go ahead. I walked right up to her head, and let out the scream to which she was now accustomed. She kept perfectly still. I walked round, picked up a stool I had noticed on the ground, stood it just behind her, climbed up on the stool, and taking a tin of vaseline from my pocket, greased my arm right up to my shoulder. I now let out the same scream as before, waited a moment, then slowly I intruded my arm into her gigantic cunt. She obviously understood perfectly what I was trying to do, because the muscles inside her cunt, with their colossal powers of suction (which could have torn my arm off in a second) did not as much as flicker as my arm slowly progressed upwards. My fingers encountered something hard. I felt round the object which seemed to be some sort of a wooden handle, and followed it up. I could not reach the end of the object, so I tried to pull it. It was stuck fast. Suddenly I realised what it was I was holding: it was obviously an umbrella, which had became unfolded. As soon as I knew what I had to deal with, the rest was simple. I slid the object up, instead of down, and turned it round and round. After a few attempts the umbrella must have folded up, because I was able to draw it out quite easily.
I got off the stool, went round to the elephant's head, and showed her the umbrella. Very gingerly, she took it from me, then turned away and smashed the cause of her discomfort on the ground. After that she trod on it a few times, till there was nothing left of it except pulp.
My task being completed, I now decided to relieve myself at the edge of the enclosure. I took out my cock, and pissed against the fence. The elephant had come round to where I was, and regarded me with sympathetic interest. "When I had finished, I was just about to slip my cock away, when her trunk came out gently and stopped me. She took my hand away very lightly and placed it at my side, then she very carefully took hold of my cock in her trunk, and sucked at it gently, until it was hard and throbbing. Her touch, considering more over that she was an elephant, was incredibly light and gentle. No woman I have met before or since has been able to equal the delicacy of that touch. I abandoned myself to the pleasure of the experience. All too soon the hot spunk was bursting out violently. With remarkable Understanding she increased the power of her suction at the right moment, and stopped it when the last convulsion of the orgasm had finished. Then, when my cock was soft again, she, she carefully placed it back against my balls.
Rather stunned by the whole experience, I buttoned my trousers and returned to the circus tent, where my companions greeted me with some surprise, as they had thought that the public taunts of the clowns had driven me away entirely. An acrobatic act was just finishing, and I read on my programme that the in the next act the elephants were due to appear again. As the acrobats were leaving the arene, the clowns came running in, tumbling over the ground, pushing each other and turning somersaults. When they saw that I had returned, their glee was almost fiendish. The smallest one climbed over the seats, and grabbed me by the sleeve.
"Come on," he said. "Where have you been? What do you think we pay you fourpence a day for, you good-for-nothing?"
"Let me go, you horrible wretch," I cried. I'm nothing to do with you. I happen to be a student of medicine, if you must know." But all the other clowns Were now swarming over me, and the audience in the tent had given way to tumultuous laughter.
"I'm the head of the troupe," said the largest clown, who was actually about my height, "and my orders are that you return to duty immediately. And for dodging your work today, you'll clear up the horse-dung for a whole week with your bare hands."
I tried to protest, but they dragged me onto the arena. My own friends were as paralysed with laughter as the rest of the audience, and did nothing to help me. It must also be remembered that my friends had had plenty to drink, and therefore did not view my predicament in a normal light.
To my horror, I found myself in the middle of the arena, with a ridiculous tattered top hat on my head, a pair of vast down-at* heel Wellingtons on my feet, a lot of brightly coloured ribbons tied round my waist, daubs of paint on my face, and a ragged umbrella in my hands.
Blind with rage, I swiped at my evil adversaries with the umbrella, but they were too nimble for me and kept out of reach easily. They now began to sing a ribald song, and to pelt me with rubber balls which were attached by elastic to their hands. Naturally the audience assumed that I was part of the act. I turned to my own friends, and saw that they were convulsed with laughter.
"You swine," I shouted, "why don't you come down and help me?"
At this the audience, and my friends in particular, became absolutely hysterical with laughter. Waving the umbrella, I now made a rush to where my friends were sitting. I was furious with them. "What's the matter?" one of them shouted out. "Anybody would think we knew you, you ghastly little dwarf."
"How dare you say that?" I shouted back, when we've been sitting at the same desk at lectures for the last three years?"
"Stay where you belong, you scrubby little freak," he shouted. "Who on earth would want to sit next to a stinking monster like you for three years?"
"That's right," said another of my friends loudly. "We don't want dwarfs and hunch? backs in our college. This is where you belong you snivelling horror."
"I'm not a hunchback," I screamed.
"Whatever you are, we don't want you near us," said a third student.
"I thought you were my friends," I said, in sudden cold despair.
"What cheek" came the reply. "He thought we were his friends!" And once again, they all roared with laughter, the audience joining in lustily.
I knew that I myself had drunk too much, but the episode with the elephant had sobered me up very considerably. Yet I wondered now whether I was not imagining everything that was happening. Surely my friends even if they were drunk, could not be as malignant as all that? Or could it be that they had always hated me, and had always laughed at me behind my back, and that the incidents in the circus had in some strange way forced their hatred out into the open?
Neither I nor the clowns had noticed that the next act was on the point of starting. The elephants were already in the arena, and the
Hindu trainer, still limping, and looking very pale and nervous, was shouting at the clowns, telling them to go... It was a this moment that something happened, which was to change the whole course of my life and to colour my mentality for ever.
As the clowns clutched at my sleeves and my hair, trying to drag me off with them, the elephant I had helped in the enclosure suddenly trumpeted loudly and rushed towards us. She picked them up in her trunk and hurled them away rom me. Then her trunk closed gently round my waist and she placed me upon her hack. The Hindu tried to intercede, but found himself also thrown out of the was. The audience applauded tumultuously.
The proprietor of the circus, a tall shifty man with the traditional top hat and waxed moustaches, now came up to us. I stroked the elephant's ears, as I didn't want him to be injured as well.
In a low voice, which only I could hear, he said: "I don't know who you are, and I don't care. From now on you've got a job with me for life. And now keep it up, the audience all think it's part of the act. It's terrific."
"But I'm a medical student," I protested. "I'm not qualified for circus life."
"Nonsense," he replied. "You were born for it. In any case there are thousands of doctors in the world, but you're the first dwarf I've met who could twist an elephant like Sheila round his little finger. Now come on. Carry on with the act."
I recalled my decision not to spend the holidays that year in my uncle's grocer's shop. This seemed to be a heaven-sent opportunity. In any case, work wasn't easy to get in Eire then, and I should have considered myself quite lucky if I'd managed to get through the holidays on a series of odd-jobs. All right, I thought, I'd do it. Besides, it looked as if I might pick up some quite hefty pay if I stayed with the circus.
I leaned down to the proprietor. "I agree" I said. "You can count on me." He smiled, bowed to the audience, and walked off.
I had no worries about the act. I simply patted Sheila's head, and she did the rest, and the other elephants did exactly what she did, standing up on their hind legs, climbing on litle boxes, ambling roud in a sort of dance, and all the rest of it.
To cries of "Encore" I rode out of the arena on Sheila's back, followed by the other elephants. Once they were all in the enclosure, I patted Sheila's head, slipped off her back, made sure that she and the other elephants had food and water at their disposal, then I went up to Sheila and said: "We're working together now. I'm just going to see the boss here. I'll be back soon." She understood perfectly, and seemed completely content.
The show was nearly over, when I returned to the tent. The proprietor shook my hand warmly. "The Hindu has lost his nerve," he said. "He'll be no good after this, so I've had to fire him. You start as from this evening. We're doing a week here, after that we're moving south."
"But the term at the University doesn't end before next week," I said.
"Who cares about your University?" he replied. "What are book studies compared to the exercise of natural artistic talent."
In the end I agreed, on condition that I would first get the consent of my College Head. A taxi was ordered for me at once and a five-pound note-an advance on my salary-was placed in my hand. In the meantime the Hindu's caravan was to be prepared for me to move in that night. I was rather sorry for the Hindu, but the way my own so-called friends had treated me that evening did not dispose me to charity. I went back to the College, got hold of the Head, impressed the desirability of my accepting this opportunity for gainful employment during the holidays upon him, and obtained his permission to leave a week before the end of term. With the help of the taxidriver, my meagre belongings were soon packed, and within another hour I was back at the circus. The Hindu had gone, and I moved into the caravan, which I found quite pleasant. On my instructions the caravan was moved so as to be right by the enclosure where the elephants were quartered. Sheila bellowed with delight as she saw me emerge from the caravan, and after caressing her ears and talking to her for some minutes, I slipped off to the tavern across the road for a night-cap. On my way, I passed the clowns, who now treated me with great respect.
In the tavern, I had a good drink, snubbed my friends some of whom were still hanging around, and went back to my caravan got un dressed and got into my bunk. My new life, and a strange one it was to be, bad started...
George paused, Cook a swig at his beer, swallowed down his whiskey, and then finished the beer, The Major immediately ordered another round. All the people round the table had been listening to George in rapt silence, fascinated.
The Major's companion said. "It's a wonderful story. Please go on. I'm sure there's a lot more to come."
"Yes, indeed," said George. "A lot more." He took a pull at the new pint in front of him, smiled at Ella who was leaning against him. Under the table, her hand was playing lightly with his cock through the trousers.
The Major offered cigars all around. The men and Ella accepted. The barman was leaning over the bar, and even Mrs. Smith had temporarily forgotten her terror of strong language. The two women customers, their earlier disapproval now completely gone, sat dreamily by the fire, enjoying the drinks.
George took a few more pulls at his beer, and continued his story.
CHAPTER IV
It did not take me long, continued, George, to settle down to a peaceful if rather strenuous routine in my new life. After a few performance I was able to add some innovations to my act, and the public and the circus pro* prietor were satisfied.
Late each night, after the circus staff had all gone to bed, I used to steal down to the enclosure to spend some time with Sheila. For her pleasure I had constructed, out of a tent pole and pieces of felt and rubber, a quite passable imitation of an elephant's cock, to which I had attached (about three quarters of the way down two coco-nuts filled with lead. Sheila was very pleased with my invention, whih she occasionally loaned to the other elephants. But she would not let me operate the dummy cock for anyone but herself, and the other elephants appreciated the fact that I was Sheila's sexual partier, and did not interfere.
Witht a little practice, we were able to synchronise our orgasms. Sheila, even under the stress of heaving passion, never became rough with me, and my cock was always treated with great delicacy and perfect instinctive understanding. From the point of view of sexual needs, I was perfectly happy.
My caravan, wherever we went, was always placed near the elephants' quarters, and sometimes, in the morning, if I overslept, Sheila's trunk would come in via the caravan window, take off my bedclothes and rouse me gently by tugging at my cock. This never failed to give me an erection, and Sheila never failed to oblige me by tossing me off. She seemed to enjoy the taste of my spunk, because she never spilt any, and always swallowed it afterwards. The sex act with her trunk was particularly satisfying for me, because her powers of suction, which she exercised in moderation on my cock, always enabled me to pass a very satisfying quantity of spunk. I was never left with that itchy feeling that I should like to do it again at once.
As for my use of the dummy cock on Sheila, the strength of the muscles of her cunt was so enormous, that I was obliged, after the first experiment, to affix a great cross-bar to the gadget.
Like any human female, Sheila was highly susceptible to atmosphere, music, moonlight, and the magic of words. After we had satisfied ourselves sexually, I used to recite the poems of eats to her, and she would listen in perfect quiet, her friendly trunk oyer my shoulder, and her great attentive ears flicking softly in approval. The more sonorous passage in the plays of Shakespeare also pleased her, particularly the more moving speeches in the tragedies.
As regards our public performances, I discovered that Sheila had a great love of dancing and I encouraged her in every way possible, fashioning her instinctive rhythms of movements into approximations of the slower steps of the human dance.
I suppose, really and truly, we were in love, as any young couple might be, and not only we take pleasure in each other's bodies, but the spiritual bonds between us were very stroug. Once Sheila contracted some kind of an illness, accompanied by severe fever and loss of appetite and insomnia. I was completely distraught, and the circus proprietor, himself a rough and tough enough character, was bullied by me as if he had been a little boy to procure the best veterinary attention in the country and to buy the expensive drugs which were necessary to effect a cure. When Sheila began to recover, my happiness knew no bounds, and I fed her with the choices fruits that the importers of Eire were able to obtain by special request.
Much the same happened, in reverse, when I went down with a severe summer cold. For four days -Sheila did not sleep at all. Her head was always at my caravan window, and when the doctor came to examine me Sheila took him by the shoulder after he had finished the examination, and shook him gently. I explained to the amazed and frightened practitioner that she was asking him to tell her about my condition. Fortunately, he was an Irishman of the old stamp, a great believer in fairies and every kind of miracle; having recovered his equanimity, he explained slowly and distinctly to Sheila exactly what was wrong with me. She listened to him attentively watching his eyes. At the phrase "He'll be all right in a few days," she let out a great sigh of relief, and let him go, withdrawing her trunk of the caravan window. Before we left that particular town, the doctor-after I had recovered-came to see one of our shows. Sheila immediately recognised him the audience, and paid him the great compliment of lifting him out of his seat and placing him gently on her back with me. The local reporters were delighted with the incident, which was reported in the press all over Ireland and even in a few American papers.
In good weather, Sheila and I often used to go for a walk in the country or by the sea. She loved the sea as much as I did, and we used to spend hours playing about in the water or lying lazily on the Beach.
Three weeks after I had started work for the circus, a rather unpleasant incident occured. The circus was due to stay a week in the town in which my uncle had his. shop. Now as it happened, my uncle and I had the same surname, and naturally, for the purposes of circus billing I had never thought of changing it. My uncle, having established himself as a grocer, had political ambitions, and at the time the circus was due to stay in the town, the local elections were actually in progress, and my uncle was one of the candidates and was generally regarded as certain to become the next mayor.
I did not take long for the political party opposing my uncle's party to discover the relationship between us. First of all there was the name. The town was plastered with posters bearing the same name in very different contexts: one as potential mayor, the other as dwarf elephant trainer. Moreover, quite a few people in the town knew me by sight already, and it did not take long for the truth to come out.
My uncle visited me at' the circus, and a very stormy scene took place.
"I don't object," he began, "to a malformed nephew who is studying medicine at an old Irish University. But I cannot agree to a family connection with a circus dwarf. Either you leave this disgraceful work immediately, or I shall disown you completely, and shall not contribute a penny more towards your studies and your upkeep at college."
"But uncle," I protested, "even the head of my College didn't mind my working usefully during the holidays."
"I don't care a damn about the head of your college. He isn't trying to get elected mayor while a midget nephew dances about on elephants' backs at the same time and in the same down. Do you realise that your disgraceful antics here have practically ruined my political career?"
I said I was extremely sorry.
"You must make up your mind here and now," said my uncle. "Either you abandon your dubious position at this travelling menagerie immediately, or you can consider from now on that we are not related in any way whatsoever.**
I did not know what to say. Was I to give up Sheila, and my assured position at the circus, and to bury myself for the holidays in a stuffy little grocer's shop? On the other hand, what of my studies? Was I able to renounce them completely? For, without the finacial support of my uncle, I should have no future except in the circus... I was aj a loss for words, and would most probably at a loss for words, and would most probably have capitulated to my uncle's demands, had not Sheila appeared at that moment. In her trunk she was carrying a large bunch of cornflowers and poppies-for me to have in my caravan. She immediately sensed the antagonism of my uncle, and looked at me enquiringly.
"Sheila, my dear," I said quitly. "Leave us for a moment. My uncle and I have serious matters to discuss in private."
Sheila looked attentively at my uncle, and bellowed a soft protest.
"Go and put the flowers in my caravan," I said. "I'll join you later."
My uncle watched me in speechless amazement. Sheila still stood there, eyeing me mournfully. She let out another below, which was almost a whimper. I understood the entreaty in her voice, a pain stabbed my heart at the thought that I had been on the point of agreeing to forsake her.
"Don't worry, darling," I said. "I shall never leave you. I'll be with you in a few minutes, and we'll go for a walk together."
Sheila kissed me on the cheek her trunk, and slowly walked off, satisfied. There was a silence while my uncle looked at me curiously.
"I think you're mad," he said at last.
"Now look, uncle."
"Stark raving mad. Mad as a coot."
"Uncle..."
"I'm no uncle of a weird stunded creature who prefers to talk to elephants rather than uphold the family honour. Disgusting wretch! To think of all the money I've wasted on vour education."
"Uncle..."
"Be quiet, you mad creature. And listen to me carefully now. From now on all connection between us is finally severed, so help me God that I should be forced to deny my own kin. Never again come near me. Never again dare to write to me or to claim that you are my nephew. Go your own way in the dreadful life you have chosen, and let us hope that your dreadful madness does not brings you to a violent end. Good-bye, and God have mercy on your soul."
With that, my uncle marched off stiffly, and 1 have never seen hinl since. I know that he faled in his political ambitions, but have never reproached myself for this. Each of us has his own destiny, however strange and however contradictory to the interest of those around one. I realised now that my life had taken a certain inexorable course, and I determined never to look back and never to indulge in futile regrets. I went back to my caravan, where Sheila was waiting for me patiently, and I told her what had happened. She sympathised with me, and led me off to the woods near-by, where we made lovein our own fashion-and lazed around, until the unpleasantness of my recent experience had softened in my mind and I felt able to carry on with demands of the present.
(George paused, gulped fown his whiskey, and took a great swig at his beer. One of the two women customers signalled to the barlan for another round of drinks. George resumed his story).
After that incident, George carried on, life continued very smoothly. The circus passed from town to town, and very_ soon there was only one engagement left in Eire-Dublinafter which we were to go on a tour of Spain, France and Italy. My my work was considered more than satisfactory, and my salary had been increased. I had nothing to spend money on, except for a replacement of clothes and presents for Sheila, so I had saved quite a bit, and I was looking forward to my first visit to Dublin.
An unexpected hitch occured in Dublin. It appeared that a rival entertainment company had booked another circus, and by an unfortunate coincidence the two circuses were scheduled to appear at the same ime in the capital. My boss was furious, and there were a great number of conferences with agents and lawyers. Finally a meeting was arranged between the owners of the two circuses, at which the respective agents and lawyers were present. The conference was a very stormy one, but at length good sense prevailed on both sides, and it was decided that, instead of indulging in useless competition!, the two circuses would pool all their resources and stage a joint programme in Dublin. The combination of the two circuses meant that the programme would be a very long one, and therefores prices could be increased and good value still given to the public for the extra charge.
The combination of the circuses proved to be tremendously successful. Both the proprietors were very pleased, and agreed that it suited both of them for the arrangement to continue. A contract of amalgamation was drawn up and signed. Some of the lesser arists of both circuses found themselves out of jobs as a result, but the majority were kept on, and some-myself included-on extra pay.
The amalgamation affected me personally only in one way. The other circus also had a troupe of four elephants, but all of whom were males. Three of the elephants immediately paired off with Sheila's three companions, and the leader of the male troupe naturally made advances to Sheila.
At first Sheila was most savage in her re jection of the male elephant's advances-he was called Samson, by the way-and would come to my caravan protesting at Samson's over-strenuous methods of courtship. By instinct, Samson discovered the relationship between Sheila and myself, and in the night he would come to spy on us. His jealousy of me was ferocious, but, being extremely intelligent, he bided his time and kept his emotions in cheek. One night, as I was on my way to see Sheila in her enclosure, I was suddenly seized and lifted high off the ground. I realized that it was Samson who had done this, and I was afraid that he might kill me. But that apparently was not his intention. Holding me high up, he made his way to Sheila's enclosure, and walked in. Seeing me in his grip, Sheila let out a bellow of terror, and rushed menacingly up to Samson. She stopped short, as Samson waved me in the air and made it clear that another step from Sheila would result in my being dashed with all his strength onto the ground.
Still waving me in the air, Samson began to speak to Sheila. Having become accustomed to elephant speech by now, I knew that he was telling her that unless she yielded to his advances at once, he would kill me there and then. The argument lasted a long time. Finally Sheila agreed, and, still holding me poised in his trunk, Samson mounted Sheila from behind, and gave vent to his suppressed passion.
Despite herself, Sheila responded to his passion, and, after the they had finished, she remained very quiet and thoughtful. The looks she cast at Samson were no longer hostile, and her eyes when they caught mine were sad and a trifle conscience-stricken. Samson let me down, and I went back to my caravan.
From then on, Samson appropriated Sheila's body completely, and I was excluded completely. He was not satisfied, however, with his physical victory at my expense-he was determined to achieve moral victory as well. I had become depressed and absentminded. Sheila avoided me, and when she met me always looked guilty and turned away. Once, in the arena, I caught her looking at me thought fully and I heard her sigh. I knew that she loved me still, -but the pull of raw nature was too strong for her.
Little by little Samson carried out a calculated campaign to discredit me. Several times, while I was on his back, he made me lose balance. He was always slow to respond to my orders, and frequently deliberated misunderstood what I was saying. The elephant trainer from the other circus, who at first had been recognised as my junior in talent, now began to assert himself, and Samson saw to it that his acts, as opposed to mine, always went off perfectly. A few days of this produced the inevitable result. I was hauled up before the two bosses, told that my act had gone to pieces and fired unceremoniously.
I packed my belongings and went to say good-bye to Sheila. Samson understood that I was going away and allowed me yo go in the enclosure and up to Sheila, but kept moving about near-by. Sheila regarded mo mournfullyas I stroked her face and scratched her ears. She kissed me lightly on the cheek, and bellowed lightly. I turned away, and left the enclosure. With a heavy heart, I left the circus, and obtained a room in Dublin. I had sayed quite a bit of money by now, but I did not know what I wanted to do next. That night I went with a prostitute, but obtained no satisfaction from her.
Next day, on an impulse, I boarded a boat for England. The Great Love of my life was over.
* * *
George sat down, and took a pull at his pint. There was silence. The two women customers were crying softly. Mrs. Smith surreptitiously ran her sleeve across her eyes.
"A wonderful story," said the Major. Thank you very much. I can only hope that the rest of us, in describing the most interesting sexual episodes in our lives can live up to the high standard you have set."
For a while the company drank and smoked. Another round of drinks was ordered, and then George got up and rapped the table. George bowed in the direction of one of the two women customers.
"Madam," he said, "permit me to ask you to be the next to entertaintain this company with an uninhibited account of an intersting sexual episode in your life."
The woman to whom George had spoken gulped down her whiskey looked nervously at her friend, got up, found she could not say anything and sat down again.
"Now come on Elsie," said her companion. "We can't let the small gentlemen down, neither of us, considering especially how open he's been about his own life, and how he's opened our eyes, too, to a lot of things about ourselves. I think this is a sort of purge we've both needed for a long time. Now come on, dear."
"All right," said Elsie. "I'm sorry I was so nervous. It's passing off now."
"Have another drink," said the Major's companion. She poured her own whiskey into Elsie's glass. Elsie gulped it down, followed it up with a few mouthfuls of beer, got up, and plunged straight into her story rather in the manner of a person diving into a cold swimming poolo.
The others composed themselves comfortably, to listen to Elsie's story.
CHAPTER V
It's a funny thing, began Elsie, -hat for years one goes on in a certain way, and nothing much happens at all. And then suddenly one little thing crops up out of the ordinary, and it's quite exciting af first, but then another thing follows it, which is maybe on the way to being too exciting, and then, before you know where you are, everything's got changed and topsy-turvy, and you wonder whether you had any normal life and any peace at all. I suppose it's human nature, to feel like that, and I expect that's why people keep on voting for different governments, and, if they can't vote for them they have revolutions. What I mean is, it's human nature to want a change, and it's human nature to want a change from that change, too, because I suppose nothing ever works out as it should do, and everything always seems worse than it was before-and sometimes it is worse, of course, muchworse, but you can never really tell what's going to happen until it's too late. And that's why...
Her voice suddenly trailed off, and she looked round blankly and miserably.
"Go on, Elsie," encouraged her companion. George waved for another round of drinks at the same time.
"I've lost the thread of what I was going to say," said Elsie helplessly.
"Think of the six expressions," said George. "Which of them represents the basic theme of your story?"
"Oh, dear," said Elsie. She gulped down the whiskey which the barman set in front of her.
"Think," said George. "Cunt, cock, fuck, toss-off, suck-off, shit."
"It wasn't the last one," said Elsie lamely. "Nor the two before that."
"So ti's cunt, cock, fuck," said George.
"That's right," Elsie said faintly. "Oh, dear..."
"She's nervous the poor dear," said the Major's companion. I'll say those words for you: cunt, cock, fuck. Now you try. "You'll get over your nerves once you've said them."
"Well,-er-cunt oh, dear."
"Go on," said Ella. "You're doing well."
**01j9 dear_cr-^^ooc^."
"Good girl!" said the Major. "Now the third one."
"And er well, I suppose er fuck, then..."
"That's better," said George. "Now all three together.
Elsie took a deep breath. "Cuntcockfuck!" she blurted out. "There I did it."
"Again," said George. "Slowly this time."
Cunt cock fuck."
George made Elsie repeat the three words another half dozen times. Little by little she lost her nervous manner.
"What is it you're got between your legs?" asked Ella.
"Cock-I mean cunt. NO..."
"Cunt," said her companion. "You 6ee Elsie, it's not bad at all. In fact I quite like saying it. Cunt, cock, fuck. Cock, cock, fuck, fuck, fuck. There, you see."
"I don't mind either now," said Ebrie. "Cunt, cock, fuck. And I don't mind using the words, just like the small gentleman did. He fucked me, I fucked her,-I mean him. His cock went into my cunt. My cunt went into his cock. No, that's wrong, isn't it? But it doesn't matter. My cunt went over his cock. I sucked his balls. He tossed me off. I sucked him off with my cock. I shitted on his cunt. His cunt pressed against my balls which I was sucking off...'*
Her voice became shriller and shriller. She had obviously had far too much to drink, and now the alcohol had suddenly liberated years of suppressed hysteria.
"Take it easy, girl," said the Major.
"We've got plenty of time." Elsie swallowed her companion's whiskey.
"Don't worry Major," she said. I can manage very nicely, I can even shit on my balls if I want to, so there. Now where was I? That's right It wasn't toss-off-suck-off-shit, itwas cunt-cock-fuck. Lots of cock-cocks, and lots of fuck-fucks and my cunt was in the middle, because they'd put me on a table, and they were all fucking my cunt in turn. There they were, all with their cocks out, sitting round the table and drinking. And it was all my own fault because my father said the town was dangerous when the troops were just on the point of leaving for the front. And after I became pregnant, he kept on asking me the man's name }so I gave him about a dozen names, because I knew them all. My father went mad then, but when I had triplets, he nearly went off his head. After that he started proceedings on my behalf against the soldiers-all of them in the same Unit. But then the lawyers stopped the case going to court, because they said I hadn't got a chance and in any case the publicity in the press would be awful. My mother took my side, and my father left me alone, but he hardly ever spoke to me again, and the boys grew up, and they're all doing well know, but I've never had a man since then. And it's not easy to be fucked by a dozen men one day, and then to have any more men at all. So I've had a rotten time, and I've never talked about it until now, and I'm glad I can talk about it? because I like cocks. I like cocks in my cunt. I like to be fucked. I love cocks. I love cock. I love cocks. Somebody give me a cock, please. Major, give me your cock, please. The young lady won't mind just once. Major, give me your cock, please. And I want the small gentleman's cock, too. And the young man's cock. And the barman's cock. And all the other cocks. Millions of cocks. Millions of cocks. Lovely big cocks and lovely hairy balls. Cocks and balls, cocks and balls, cocks and balls..."
"Time, gentlemen, please" screamed Mrs. Smith.
"Cocks and balls, gentlemen, please," Elsie.
"Time, gentlemen, please," Mrs. Smith repeated frantically. "Time, ladies."
"Cocks and balls, gentlemen, please," mimicked Elsie. "Cunt, ladies."
"Hold your tongue," shouted Mrs. Smith.
"Hold your cock," shouted back Elsie. Suddenly she collapsed in her chair.
"I'll take her home in a taxi," said her companion.
"Maybe our little evening was top much for her," suggested George.
"Not at all," replied Elsie friend. "It's just what she wanted. Just what I wanted, too. What time do we meet here tomorrow night?"
"I suggest at seven-thirty," said George. "Is that convenient for everybody?"
There were murmurs of assent, handshakes all round, Elsie and her friend were seen onto a taxi, and the others went off in their different ways. George and Ella found themselves alone again.
"Your place or mine?" said Ella.
"My place. It's only just round the corner."
They walked to George's flat. What happened there, the reader already knows.
CHAPTER VI
It took Ella and George quite a while to clean and dry the mattress and bedding. Then Ella made a meal of eggs and bacon, and tea. They decided that Ella would give up her room, and would move into George's flat next morning. They also decided to postpone further sexual activity of an extreme kind until they had bought some oil clothes to put on the bed the next day.
George learned that Ella was workingwhen she was working-as a model and occasionally as a film extra.
Ella learned that George contributed articles to the popular magazines on Psychology, Health Cures and Nudism.
Both of them were voracious readers of a certain kind of literature, and both were extremely keen on photography of a certain kind and. Both of them were completely anti-social.
"If I hadn't been a masochist by nature", said George, "I should never stop in England. But it amuses me to have my teeth constantly set on edge by it's vulgarities, banalities and assininities.
Ella laughed. "I think we're going to have some .fun round the English pubs, you and I" she said.
They found some whiskey in a bottle, drank it, washing it down with tea, and went to bed.
Next morning Ella moved her things over, and after that she sat about cleaning the flat up.
The flat consisted of one main room, and another, equally large, in which there was a gas stove. George hardle ever used this room, except to pigs in an enamel jug which he then emptied down the sink.
The bathroom was on the floor below, and was communal.
The main room wasn't too bad. The bedding, on the whole, was not too fusty, the curtains were not too blacky and the carpet, though black with dust and dirt, still revealed some of the original design. Round the walls, and in heaps on the floor, there were books on sex, and various curious objects and photographs.
Ella sat about the task of spring-cleaning vigorously, George assisted in an amused way, and the work slowly progressed. By six in the evening, the flat was looking very clean and cosy. They lighted the fire, and then went down fo a bath.
The ancient geyser gave out surprisingly hot water.
They undressed end sat on the edge of the bath while the water was running.
"If you put your prick under the hot water," said Ella, "does it make you come?"
"Yes," replied George, "but the water has got to be really hot. And after I've come I discover that I've practically boiled my cocknot to mention my balls. "Have you tried it?"
"Yes," laughed Ella. "With much about the same result." They now got into the bath one at each end, their knees drawn up, their legs apart, and regarded each other's parts with unconcealed interest.
"I think the human cock is wrongly constructed," said George. For a start off, it should have two claws at each side of it, so that they could tear a cunt wide open before the cock slid in."
Ella stretched out one leg, and grasped George's cock between two toes. She stretched out the leg, and pressed his balls right back against his behind.
"Try and not tear it right off this time," said George. George produced from toiletcase he'd put on the side of the bath, a short piece of rubber hosing with a long pointed end. He fitted the upper part over the hot water jet, and turned the geser on again. A thin concentrated stream of very hot water poured out of the end of the pipe which George now directed a Ella's nipples in turn.
"You bastard, you're scalding me," said Ella.
"Tit for tat," said George, "you've practically torn my balls off, you bitch."
There was a noise outside the door. "Is there anybody in there?" said a female voice. Cilia judged its owner to be about fifty.
"No," said George, it's only the water dripping. Come in."
The door opened, and a grubby old woman of not far short of sixty came in. She leered lasciviously at George's erection, and passed a dirty claw over Ella's hardened nipples.
"I'm glad he's found himself a nice girl to keep him company," she said. "You've no idea what a nuisance he is sometimes."
"She's staying with me permanently," said George.
"Glad to hear it," said the newcomer. There was another noise outside the door.
"That's me hubby," said the old crone. "Come in, Bill." Bill, a red-nosed human wreck of about 65, shuffled into the bathroom...
"George got himself another piece, I see," he wheezed.
"This is my husband, Bill," said the old woman.
"Pleased to meet you", said Ella. With her toes she was slowly working George's cock up and down.
Ella held out her hand. The old man came forward to grasp it, peering greedily at Ella's parts in the meantime. Quick as lightning, Ella's hand gripped his trousers, and tore them off.
"Here," said the old woman, "you tore off all his buttons.
"I wanted to see his prick," said Ella, peaceably. "After all, as far as I can gather there don't seem to be any secrets in this house.
The old man's wizened liittle cock was making quite determined efforts to stand up. Ella seized it and pulled back the foreskin.
"Why, you dirty old bastard," she cried in disgust, "you haven't washed under your foreskin for about a year... Look at the muck there. It's almost turning to gangrene."
That's just a smear of the old cheese," said the old man loonily.
Ella turned to the old woman. "You bloody well, wash it off for him under the skin," she said. "It stinks."
The old woman, rather grudgingly, but unable to dispute the logic of Ella's remarks, rolled up her sleeves, grabbed hold of her husband's dirty member, and dragged him over to the sink. She seized a rough scrubbing-brush and a big tablet of carbolic soap."
"Here," said the old man, "what the hell do you think I am? The kitchen floor."
"Shut your got, you dirty old pole-cat," rapped out the old woman. "The young lady's right. You're not fit to be seen in public, you ain't." She began scrubbing vigorously.
While she was doing this, she leaned over her shoulder and addressed Ella. "I wouldn't mind tickling your fanny, while you toss off with your foot," she said lasciviously.
"Before I can even entertain such a suggestion," said Ella, "you'll have to take your clothes off, so that I can at least see who I'm dealing with."
"I don't mind at all, dear," said the old woman primly. "At least you won't find any stale cheese in my fanny." She tugged viciously at the old man's cock as she scrubbed it all round. "You perishing shinker," she said, "if that's the state you've let your foreskin get into, I'm just wondering what your arsehole's like. I bet there's about ten years of shit on it."
"Oh, come on, ma," protested the old man, don't be so bloody sharp with your tongue in front of other people. I'm your husband, ain't I-for bad or worse as the service says, and you shouldn't be trying to destroy my dignity before strangers, like."
"I'm going to have a look at your arsehole," thundered the old woman. The old man let down his trousers and turned round.
"Thought as much," said the old woman. You'd think we never spent any money on lavatory paper in this house. Angrily she set to work again with the scrubbing brush. There was a knock on the door.
"Come in," said George... A stout elderly man man entered the bathroom.
"Ella," said George, "this is Mr. Hicks, the landlord."
"Pleased to meet you," said Ella. "Take your trousers off if you want to, and join the fun."
Mr. Hicks leered at Ella. "Don't mind if I do," he said. In no time at all he was in the nude. His pubic hair, surprisingly, considering the black hair on his head, was ginger. Under his vast paunch there was quite a presentable cock, and the balls were very large for a man of his age. There was a loud knock on the door.
"Anybody in there?" asked a young female voice.
"No, George called out, it's just the water dripping."
A young flashy girl now entered the bathroom.
"Goodness," she said. "What's going onf
Mr. Hicks, whosee fat cock was now standing up, grabbed hold of her, and pointed down at his member. "This is what's going on," he said. "And" you're the one who's going to bring it back to normal size. So get your clothes off, and be smart about it."
"Who do you think you're talking to?" said the girl.
"You," said Mr. Hicks. "And don't you be forgetting that you owe me three weeks' rent."
"Oh, all right," said the girl petulantly, and she began to take off her clothes. The old woman, having finished her husband's toilet, had also undressed. "Any body present," she said, "can have a close sniff at my fanny, and they won't small anything except soap and lavender. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, my old woman used to say to me, and I've never forgotten it. Not like some of these young ones "-she added darkly-" whose fannies could be full of maggots for all the washing they ever do."
"Are you referring to me by any chance?" said the girl, who had also got undressed by now. "Here, you, she said to Mr. Hicks, you have a sniff at my cunt and tell the old fool if you can snell anything."
Mr. Hicks bent down. "No, nothing," he said. He did not get up after this, but buried his face in the girl's thick pubic hair and soft thighs. The girls expression softened to a smile. "But I'm not going to do it on the floor," she said.
"We'll he out of the bath in a minute," said Ella. "You can get in then."
"I want to tickle your fanny, dear," said the old woman, "while you're tossing him off with your foot." Her hand reached out and began stroking Ella's cunt greedily.
"What about me?" demanded the old man. "Where do I come in?"
"You can watch, and think yourself lucky to be allowed to mix in decent company," snapped the old woman. There was a knock on the door.
"Whis it?" shouted the old woman.
"Gas meters, mum," came the hoarse goodnatured reply.
"I suppose you'd better come in," said the old woman. A thick-set youngish man came into the bathroom, carrying a leather bag. "Now the," he said briskly hole "there's the old in the slot here?"
"He hasn't even noticed anything unusual" remarked Ella.
"No, mum," replied the man, had my balls shot off in the last war. So it's all the same to me. All I've got is a tube for. pissing with, and that's as far as it goes."
"Go on," said the old woman. "I'd love to have a look."
"Cost you a (packet of fags, that will," said the gas-man good-naturedly.
"It's a deal," said the old woman. I'll give the to you later. I've got them downstairs."
"All right," said the gas-man. He took off his and pants and revealed a vast limp cock which must have been at least two feet long, and a good three inches thick.
"What a beauty!" exclaimed all the women in unison.
"Wasnt like that after the war," explained the man, "But you see the missus can't bear to do without it, and every time she has a few drinks, she thinks she'll make it stand, balls or no balls. And once she starts rubbing it, she goes on for hours. Me, I just go to sleep and let her get on with it. Sometimes I wakes up in the moning and she's still at it. And that's been going on about ten years now, so the old cock's got sort of stretched out a bit, if you get what I mean."
"What a shame," said the girl whose cunt was being licked noisily by Mr. Hicks.
"Coudn't you put some liquid cement on it, or something?"
"And what good would that do me?" replied gas-man, as he bent over the meter, his vast limp useless cock trailing on the floor.
"From my point of view," said the old woman, "I wouldn't mind a cock of that size being seen around the place permanently, even if it couldn't do anything. It's pretty enough, just as decoration. A lot prettier than flowers, I'd say."
The girl whose cunt Mr. Hicks was sucking pulled him gently away. "You'd better fuck me now," she said. "I've got the urge." Mr. Hicks grabbed the girl, and did as he was invited. Ella reached over the bath, and caught his balls from behind... he foot began to massage George's cock vigorously. The old woman scratched away away at Ella's cunt. George let the water out of the bath, and let the stream of hot water play over Ella's cunt and the old woman's hand. The old woman had in the meantime seized the gas-man's cock and crammed as much of it as she could manage into her mouth, and stuck a finger into his behind. "Another packet of fags, if you lick my fanny," she said.
"Done," said the good-natured gas-man.
He and the old woman re-arranged themselves accordingly.
"What about me?" said the old man. "Where do I come in?"
"You can go round with a cloth and mop up the spunk," said the old woman. Almost crying with frustration, the old man sat down on the floor and began to toss himself off.
The first to finish were Mr. Hicks and the girl. Then George's spunk shot high into the air and settled on the bathroom wall, and almost immediately Ella's squirming orgasm followed.
Little by little the party sorted themselves out, dried and washed themselves, according to their needs, and began to get dressed. On the floor, oblivious to everybody, then old man was still tossing himself off. The old woman eyed him with contempt. "See you next Thursday," she said. Everybody laughed, and the old man gave up the attempt.
"Well," said Ella, as they were going upstairs again, after hand-shakes all round, "it was nice to meet the neighbours. At least they're not stand-offish here."
They stoked up the fire, and went out. On the way they had a meal of fish and chips, and at seven-thirty they were at the pub, where the Major and his companion were already waiting. Very soon the rest of the company arrived (Elsie looking a trifle pale), and as on the previous night they made themselves comfortable round the big table by the fire, and discussed general topics during the first two or three rounds of drinks. Then George got up, rapped the table, and said to the Major's elegant companion. "Madam, I have the pleasure of calling on you for out next revelation of an interesting sexual episode."
Self-possessed, the lady smiled all round, took a small sip of whiskey^ and quietly and modestly began her story.
CHAPTER VII
After I left school, began the Major's companion, I did not get work, but stayed at home to look after my father who was an invalid.
I was twenty-four years old when he died suddenly, and I was left alone (my mother having died when I was still at school). I had hoped that upon my father's death there would be enough money at least to carry me through the first years of life on my own. I intended to go to a commercial school, and train to be a secretary. It was with considerable dismay that I learned that my father had run his business affairs so badly that, after the sale of our house and all is effects, the sum left to me, would not amount to more than fifty pounds. It appeared that my father had gambled heavily on the stock exchange with disastrous consequences, and during the last few years had been living on the mortgage of the house and his remaining capital. The unpaid bills were legion.
Fortunately, I was young enough not to feel too depressed about the future. After the funeral, I saw our, lawyers obtained the fifty pounds from them, which I straight away placed in a Post Office account, and bought a ticket for London.
In the capital I found very cheap lodgings, paid a term's fees in advance at a commercial school, and settled down to a hardworking if rather meagre existence. By the time I had completed the course I had barely give pounds left, and during the period I had grown rather thin and had acquired the strained expression which is produced by prolonged under -nourishment.
My diploma in my hand-bag, I studied the Situations Vacant columns of the evening papers, and selected a number of firms whose advertised requirements were well covered by my qualifications. As I was putting the last paper down my eye caught the following advertisement, which I had not noticed at first:
TO START AT ONCE competent companion-secretary to titled lady. Full board, good pay, reasonable hours, pleasant country surroundings. Phone Little Wattlebury 14 or Write...
This, I thought, really did seem attractive. I could certainly do with some good food and country air, after my pinched period in London. I went into a Post Office, found out the charge for a telephone call to Little Wattlebury, got the necessary change to put in the box, and got through to the number.
A deep female voice answered almost at once. "Well,," it said.
"Good evening," I replied. "I'm phoning regarding .your advertisement."
"Good. When are you free to start?"
"Well, any time," I said.
"Good, that settles it. I can tell by your voice that you'll do. You don't whine like the awful cockney girls. Now listen carefully. Tomorrow morning there's a train from Euston at 11.45.
You change at Hump Ham stead le Grand. You should arrive at Little Wattlebury at 3.20. My car will be at the station to pick you up. Got that?"
"Yes, thank you very much," I said.
"By the way, what's your name?"
"Muriel Hester-Crawford."
"Fine. See you tomorrow."
"May I ask your name?"
"Yes, of course. The Duchess of Nossex. All right, then, till tomorrow afternoon." And she rang off.
I was a little surprised. I hadn't even been asked for references, nothing. Still, the Duchess of Nossex no doubt was one of those people who are capable of making lightning decisions. I went back to my lodgings, packed belongings, paid the rent that was due in lieu notice, and phoned up the station enquiry office. The single fare to Little Wattlebury was two pounds Eighteen Shillings. That meant that when I arrived at Little Wattlebury (allowing for some sandwiches for the journey) I should have about twelve shillings left. Supposing the Duchess suddenly canged her mind when she saw me? No, I reassured myself, she would hardly do that. And even if she did, she would certainly cover my expenses. All the same, as I went to sleep for the last time in my London lodgings, I still could not help feeling worried.
Next morning I set off on my journey. As the train steamed out of Euston station, I felt a mixture of exhileration and acute anxiety. As the journey wore on, however, my anxiety began to recede, and my natural optimism asserted itself. Everything would work out all right.
And it would be wonderful to be in country again, after months in the grimy air of London.
I changed at Hump-Hampstead-le-Grand, and after a short wait caught the connection to my destination. On the way I ate the sandwiches I had brought with me. I must have fallen asleep after that, because in no time at all the train jolted to a standstill a a tiny station set apparently ,in he middle of field, with a church village-visible about half a mile away. "Little Wattlebury" shouted the porter. I scrambled out on the platform, gave up my ticket, and went outside. Yes, there, sure enough, was a car-a Rolls Royce, and the evry young very handsome chauffeur looked enquiringly at me as I came out. I went up to the car.
"Muriel Hester-Crawford?" demanded the chauffeur.
"That's right," I said. I was little put out by the omission of the "Miss," but decided to overlook it.
He opened the door at the front. "G#t in", he said. This also jarred on me, but I re fleeted that beggars can't be choosers, and that T should just have to put up with the young man's surly manner. In any case, as the Duchess' personal secretary, I probably wouldn't be seeing very much of him. All the same, I thought, he might at least have helped me with my case.
In no time at all, I Was in the hall of Wat* tlebury Manor, and was shaking hands with a determined looking woman of about 45.
"Glad to see you, Muriel," she said. "Come along." She led me off, talking as Went down a corridor and into^ magnificent study.
"First of all," the Duchess said, "I'll shoW you your work. After that you can do what you like, and the maid will show you your roofn. I don't expect my secretary to keep to any fixed hours, all I want is that the work should be kept up to date. And by the Way, fas my secretary companion, I want yo to call me Angela. It makes me feel younger to he called by my christian name. Now here We are." She sat down at a desk, and motioned me to sit beside her. "Here's a list of replies to an advertisement I put in the London Morning Press for a male Assistant. As yon see, there are about sixty replies. Read the letters carefully and pick out the men between twenty and twenty-five, After that look through the letters again and make a final selection from the point of View of finacial standing, Pm interested only in the poorest young men,, provided they're not coarse or otherwise uneccaptable-. You can tell the poor applicants front the notepaper they use, and whether they're asking for their fare to be paid in advance for the interview, When you've made your final choice* make fifteen interviews for next week, Is that clear?"
"Yes, Angela," 1 said.
"Good, I'll leave you to it, then. Your pay, by the way, will be seven pounds a week, You don't have to dress for dinner unless the ghastly local fogeys are present. Since my husband's death I've simplified my life, and cut out a lot of rigmarole," She bustled off. The maid came in, and took me up to my room, which was on the third floor, facing across a great park. It was pleasantly furnished, and oh the whole I felt reasonably content, I tidied myself up, and went downstairs. A late lunch had been steout for me in the dining-room, and I must admit that, after months of very scanty mid-day snacks, I enjoyed the meal enormously* and probably ate too much.
I went into the study, and started work. I read all the letters carefully, and sifted them according to the Duchess' instructions. Then I typed out replies, rejecting 45 applicants and inviting the other fifteen to attend an interview. I signed each letter with my name, and "Secretary" after it. I left the letters unsealed for the Duchess to see. In any case, with eight of them there was fare money to he enclosed.
At five o'clock the maid brought in a tray of tea, toast, bread and butter, jam, and cakes. I had another gorge, and then carried on with the work. The Duchess came in at 5.30.
"How are you getting on?" she asked.
"I've finished the letters."
"Good." She looked through my replies and the corresponding applications. She took out a batch of notes from her dress pocket. Here's twenty pounds. That should pay all the single fares, and leave a few pounds over. Keep the change as an advance on your salary. The Local Post Office shuts at six, and the last post is at 6.15. Take the car down to the village, get the postal orders, and send all the letters off." I found the chauffeur-lying in a deck-chair in the garden and told him what I wanted. Without enthusiasm he brought the car round, sai "Hop in," and drove me to the village post office, which was also the village stores. I seized the opportunity to but a few articles for myself.
On the way back I tried to make conversation. "Those people in the post office seemed terribly strange in their manner," I said.
"Yokels," replied the chauffeur laconically.
"I certainly received some very curious stares," I said.
"Shouldn't think about it, he said. "In fact I shouldn't worry about anything. Do your job, get your money, don't poke around too much in dark corners, and forget everything you hear. The food's good here, and you look to me as if you could do with plenty of it."
Once again his manner irritated me. "My father died suddenly," I said, "and I had to finish a course as secretary on very little money."
"That's your own business," he said.
We arrived at the Manor, and I went into the study. The Duchess was waiting for me. "Dinner's at eight," she said. I shouldn't do my more work to-night, hut tomorrow there'll be another batch of letters. I want a London girl-just one-to look after the chickens and all that sort of thing. But I don't want one of these fancy young women who feel lost if they don't return to London once a month. In the advertisement I've asked for family particulars. You'd better choose a very young girl with no family at all, and if there isn't one among the applicants then at least a girl with relatives no nearer than Ireland. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Angela," I said.
"How about your own relatives?" she asked.
"Since, my father's death there's nobody."
I said, She looked a* me thoughtfully, but did not say anything.
I enjoyed the dinner, which was beautifully recked, and Angela encouraged me to eat enormous portions of everything. Wo were the alone at dinner, and the bottle of rich red wine we had between us went a little to my head. Angela seemed very cheerful, and remarked several times that she wait cert tain that I would settle down in the job and would probably never want to leave the Manor.
Shortly after the dinner, tired out by the journey and, to tome extent, by the grain of the preceding months, I fell fast asleep almost immediately.
The week passed almost uneventfully. I settled down easily into the routine. The Duchess, Angela, was always reasonable in her manner to me if a little eccentric at times. The chauffeur-Harry-also was not so bad, when one got know him better. The maid, Alice, was extremely obliging at all times. The work was not at all difficult, though at times I could not understand what I was doing. I was putting on weight, and the country air suited me. Admittedly the atmosphere in the manor was a little mysterious, and at times I even had serious misgivings-for no reason at all-but generally I was perfectly content.
A day before the fifteen young men were due to arrive for interviews the girl for whom the Duchess had advertised made her a appearance. She was a pleasant little creature simple and possibly a bit stupid, but with a nice face, a good figure, and a friendly manner. She had an old aunt still alive in Eire, but beyond that nobody in the world. She had not enjoyed her few first months in London where she worked at as washer-up one of the truly awful places which dish out precooked lunches in their millions to the unfortunate inhabitants of the capital. She was pathetically grateful to be back in * country setting, and to breathe the country air. Angela took one look at her, seemed to decide at once that she was quite suitable, and whisked her away.
The next day the young men began to arrive. They were in all, quite a nice-looking lot, all young, and most of them with reasonable backgrounds. For the most part they were the sons, of not very successful clerks they were better in class than the Cockneys against whom they would have had to struggle in London, yet they did not possess the means to bide their time in order to start a proper career at a good job. In short, they were as pressed for work as I had been, and all of them seemed most anxious to make a good impression on the Duchess. There was one boy I particularly liked; his name was Gerry Thomas, and he was the son of a retired customs official. He had thick brown hair, a lot of freckles, and a constant smile.
He was taller than most of the other boys, and had, on the whole, an easier manner.
My job, when they had all arrived, was Co get them to complete a form, to verify as best as I could any documents they might have brought with them, and then to pass them to Angela via Alice who led them away, one by one, to another part of the house.
It was nine o'clock when I had finished my part of the work, and I wondered where the young men would all spend the night, as the last train from Little Wattlebury left at 7 o'clock.
Angela did not turn up for dinner, and I ate on my own. By now I had acquired quite a taste for dinner wines, not was I averse to liqueurs which were always in plentiful supply. Angela allowed me to eat to drink anything I wanted, and I had also started to smoke.
I went to bed and, as usual, immediately fell asleep.
I woke suddenly. I had had a nightmare in which at he end there was a man screaming for help. As I woke up, I imagined that I could still hear the scream. There was a silence and then suddenly I heard the scream again. I sat up in bed. Was it the drink? I wondered. I had actually been drinking a little too much lately. I listened for a long time, but could hear nothing more. Dismissing the matter from my mind. I went back to sleep.
The next morning Angela did not appear at breakfast. I asked Alice how the young men had managed to get home, and whether any of them had been selected for the work Angela bad in mind (I was actually still very hazy about the nature of this work). To my surprise Alice said nothing, looked at me sharply, and turned away.
"Is there anything wrong, Alice," I asked.
Alice would not meet my eyes. She was going to go out, ignoring my question, then she seemes to change her mind, looked at the door fearfully, bent over me and said in a low voice. "It's starting again, Miss. 9c be careful. And don't let on ever that you've seen anything,"
"Whatever do you mean?" I asked.
"It's all the better for you if you don't know," she said. "And if ever you do get to know, you remember my words-act stupid. That's what I've been doing for-years." And with that she went off.
I must say I was very much put out by
Alice's manner, But the day was beautifully gunny, the air outside was particularly clean a and crisp, and I very soon forgot the incident.
I did not have very much work to do, and decided to ask Angela at lunch-time what else there was to be done. But at lunch-time Angela was still not to be seen. I ate my lunch on my own* Alice made it all too clear that she did not want to he questioned, and I did not press her.
After lunch, to nil in the time and give myself something to do, I began to sort out the contents of the desk. To my surprise the drawers of the desk were filled with letters of application for work similar to those writ" ten by the young men who had arrived the day before. There seemed to be thousands of these letters. I noticed that the dates on them went back almost ten years. What sort of a business could Angela be running to employ as many people? I wondered, I made a makeshift file and arranged the letters alphabatically and by date.
At dinner I was still on my own, and I must confer that I was beginning to feel a trifle worried. But I managed to contain myself, sad did not put any questions to Alice. I went up to my room shortly after dinner. I felt remarkably tired. I supposed it was the strain of unaccustomed speculation and the recurrence of worry. I go undressed and at ance fell asleep. Next morning I woke up very early. I felt heavy and not too well.
The day progressed slowly, and in between meals I carried on with my improvised fieling. At dinner, I was surprised to see an envelope on the table with my name on it. I opened it, and found that it contained my usual week's salary to which were added two pounds more. The note-in Angela's handwritingsaid: "Sorry to neglect you, Muriel dear, but I have a lot of important things to attend to at present. Don't worry if there's nothing much to do at the moment for you. I am more than satisfied with your work to date, Angela."
I felt a little better after reading the notewhich acted on me as a kind of normaliserand I tackled my dinner with appetite. For once decided not to drink the wine which was on the table with my dinner, but to to take it up to my room, and to drink it a leisure while I brought my diary up to date (I had neglected my diary since I had arrived at the Manor). I poured the wine off into a water caraffe and placed it on the side-board. Then I carried on with my meal. Alice appeared for brief intervals to serve each course and immediately went off again.
It was a little startling to be left so completely on my own in the great house, and I was glad to have the wine to take up with me to my room.
I sat down at my window, and began to write up my diary. The task proved to be very interesting, and I did not notice the time pass. On looking at my watch, when I had finished my task, I discovered to my amazement that it was almost midnight. I had also forgotten to drink any of the wine. I got undressed and climbed into bed. I found that sleep eluded me, and I put this fact .down to my having devoted so many hours to the more intimate thoughts and memories which I had written down in my diary.
I was still wide awake when I heard the scream. It was the scream of a young man in great pain, and I immediately recollecte the scream I had thought I had imagined hearing the night before. Without putting on the light, I went to the window and listened. Was it my imagination or could I hear the beating of a drum? Then suddenly the scream sounded again.
I was both frightened and curious, I knew that unless I explained the sounds away, should not be able to sleep at all, and would imagine all sorts of horrors. I was already frightened, but I was determined, in my owa interests, to control my fear and to get to the bottom of the mystery... I slipped on a dresSingtgown over my night-dress, put on my slippers, and, opening my door quietly, went downstairs. The lights were out, But the bright moonlight stealing in through the big windows on the stairway wag sufficient for me to And my way to the study, from which I entered the garden by a French window.
It was a warm night, and the manor ground seemed very beautiful and invitingly romantic in the moonlights I found myself quite enjoying my expedition. Then I heard the scream again, and my pleasure at the surroundings turned to apprehension. I stood still and listened. Yes, there, to my right I could distinctly hear the beating of a drum I hesitated, then made up my mind, am quickly but quietly moved across the ground in the direction of the sounds I had heard.
I came to the copse at the edge of the lawn and plunged in among the trees. The sound of the drum became louder and louder. My heart beating, I advanced through the copse, across another great lawn, and into a small thicket which I now remembered bordered the beautiful rose-garden which was laid out In the form of a Roman arena, with the ground rising on each side from the Centre, and a great circle of rose-rose-trees circling the perimeter. The sound of the drum was now very distinct, and I approached the edge of the rose-garden cautiously. As I ascended to the edge of the garden, I moved more and more slowly, as from the outside the slope was quite steep. Finally I reached the top, and looked down. The scene which met my eyes Was so incredible that I almost cried out. Fortunately, the rose trees all the way along the top concealed me from view, otherwise, so stricken with surprise was I, that t am lure I should not have had the sense to conceal myself.
In the Centre Of the rose-garden a torch was burning It Was a strange Sort of torch, such as I had never seen before. To call it a multicoloured flare would not describe it adequately, for it produced such extraordinary light effects as I have had never seen before. The torch was burning on the plinth which .was set in front of a white marble column, the day-time I had often wondered what use the plinth and the marble column could possibly serve. Now I knew. Tied to the column was a naked man-and I at once recognized one of the young me who had come for the interview. In front of him, also naked, a crown of some glittering metal on her head, stood Angela. In her hand was a long knife. All round her, in a wide circle were the other young men I had seen arriving at the interview? They were all naked, too. A little apart from them, another naked young man was beating a drum-and I immediately recognized Bill the chauffeur. Then another circumstance sank into my consciousness: all the men were in a state of erection. I had never seen a naked man before, but of course I had had my secret dreams. Suddenly now I was confronted with the vision of about twenty young men in the nude, all with their cocks erect. Inside myself I felt the strong warm tingling of^cTesire and lust. I tried to feel ashamed of myself, but I couldn't. My eyes searched avidly for the young men's cocks and balls, and my whole body itched with passion as I saw their taut cocks swinging from side to side as they danced to the drum. I had terrible struggle with an insane impulse to tear off my night-dress, and to join the dancing group. I could so well imagine some of the young men's bodies touching mine... The drum quickened, became fiercer and fiercer, the circle of young men widened, and Angela raised her hand with the gleaming knife high above her head and laughed wildly. "Shall I do it?" she shouted wildly. "Yes! yes! shouted back the young men in frenzy. Angela now slowly began to dance in front of the young man who was tied to the column. Taking my eyes off her for a moment, I recognized with a thrill of searing pleasure the naked body of Gerry Thomas-the boy I had liked best of the party who had arrived for the interview. My eyes went over slim muscular body and fastened upon his cock. My stomach and my breasts contracted with a burning desire as I saw his taut cock gleaming in the light of the torch. Greedily I looked at his balls, then again at his cock. I felt I was going mad, so strong was my itch to seize that lovely young body and feel that cock thrusting itself into my cunt... Angela by now had advanced to the young man at the column, and I noticed that he was already bleeding from his balls.
But his cock stood out straight in front of him. The drum-beat became savage and tumultuous. With an insane cry, Angela dug the knife into the young man's part. He let out a terrible scream, at which Angela laughed . The other men also laughed. From the plinth Angela now produced another knife, a long curved one with a wide blade. She brought it down on the young man's bleeding parts, and severed his cock at one blow. Agreat stream of blood poured out from the orifice where the cock had been. With the same knife Angela now bent down, seized his balls and sliced them off from the body. Then she bent down to the gushing blood and let it fall over her. She picked up the dismembered cock, and holding it and the balls in one hand and the knife in the other, let out a maniacal command to the naked men. Immediately they all converged towards the column. Each one ecstatically smeared himself in the blood. The they reformed the circle and resumed their dance, which was now slow and triumphant.
Suddenly watching, I felt terribly sick and faint and frightened. I was sticky too with the orgasm which I had involunatarily experienced. I knew that if I didn't get back at once, I should pass out, and then Heaven only knows what would happen to me. Gritting my teet I ran back to the manor. Shivering and sick, I made my way back to my room and threw myself onto the bed, and at once fell into a nightmarish sleep.
The Major's companion paused, and lit a cigarette, after taking a sip at her whiskey.
"I am sorry to He so long in unfolding my story," she said. "But it's a strange story that I can never separate the irrelevant elements from the .relevant ones and I hope you will bear with me."
The company expressed their whole-hearted agreement, more drinks were ordered, and the Major's continued her story.
CHAPTER VIII
Next morning I fell quite ill, but I thought it better not to appear to be upset in any way. After all, much as I had been affected physically by the scene, and particularly by the sight of Gerry's body, the fact remained that, in front of my eyes, a young man had been brutally murdered, or at the very least hideously and gruesomely mutilated. The meaning of all the letters I had found in the desk was now all too clear. I was quite certain in my mind that Angela was mad, and, if she suspected that I knew the truth, she would have no hesitation in getting rid of me in the same way as she had no doubt got rid of countless other people in the past. I wondered, in passing, how on earth it was possible, that the police had not got wind of something during all those years. _0n the other hand, there was no doubt that Angela's manner of choosing the victims for her bloody sexual orgies was very thought out. I suddenly remembered the little Irish girl, who had arrived for an interview a day before the boys, and I shuddered. I had not seen her since that day. What had become of her? I wondered.
I had saved the bulk of my pay during the last few weeks, and I decided that as soon as I could that day I would walk to the village and get a train to London. There was a train at mid-day, Iknew, and I thought that if I parked everything and left at about 11.25 I should catch it easily. There was the danger of someone entering my room after I had left, and discovering that my things were gone, but the way I had been left alone completely just lately seemed to suggest that his was unlikely to happen. After breakfast I did some work in a desultory fashion in the study, and at 10 to I went upstairs. I felt shaky from the night before and nervous at the thought of what might happen if I were caught before I managed to get on the mid-day train. To calm my nerves, I decided to drink some wine. I put the caraffe on the table by the window, lit a cigarette and poured myself out a good full glass. I found it very soon had the desired effect, and after I had finished it, I poured out another. After that, I thought I might as well finish the caraffe off, as I didn't expect my next job to include liberal supplies of alcoholic refreshments.
Suddenly I felt terribly sleepy. I struggled against the feeling, but I had no chance. I barely managed to reach the bed, and passed out.
When I awoke it was already evening. My head ached terribly. I looked at my watch, and realised that it was too late for any train out of Little Wattlebury. I should have to put up with another night in the Manor. A sudden thought occured to me, and I went over to the table and sniffed at the caraffe. I was certain now that the wine contained a strong sleeping drug. I couldn't distinguish anything particularly, J]ut that meant nothing, as I knew.
I went down to dinner. Alice was in the dining-room. I came to call you for lunch, she said, "But you were fast asleep so I left you."
There was no sign of Angela, and I began my dinner. Each time Alice went out of the room I seized the wine-bottle, and emptied some of it out of the window, leaving my glass half-full. I noticed that Alice glanced a few times-over casually-at the contents of the bottle.
"After London, I expect it's the country air which is tiring you out and making you want to sleep all the time," she said. "It affects everybody like that at first."
I pretended to agree with her. As soon as I had finished dinner I went up to my room. Now that I knew I had to spend another night in the manor, I almost wished that I had not thrown he drugged wine away, but had brought it up with me instead. My nerves were completely on edge, and I nearly screamed when the door suddenly opened-and Bill, the chauffeur, came in. Remembering how I had seen him the night before, I coloured slightly.
"Next time you will kind enough to knock first," I said acidly.
"I don't think there will ever be any need for me to knock," he said, jeeringly. "No man has to knock on the door of his slave."
"Really?" I said. "You're not drunk by any chance?"
"No," he replied, "I'm not drunk, ecept to some extent at the thought of possessing your body in a few minutes from now."
"Don't be ridiculous, Bill," t said4. "And please go away now. I'm not very well today."
"I can understand that," he said. Without a word, he pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it on my bed. My heart froze as I recognised my dressing-gown cord."
"I found k by the rose-garden," he said calmly. "You must have been in a hurry to get back last night."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.
"Don't you? You seem to forget that one person at the little gathering you saw last night did not articipate ..in the dance, and therefore was in a position to notice any stranger at the edge of the garden."
"No, no!" whispered.
"I saw you as clearly as I can see you now," he said relentlessly. "After that you must have got down. This morning I had a look at the place where I saw you standing and there I found this dressing-gown cord."
"I didn't mean to spy," I cried.
"I think we're talking round in circles," said Bill. "The fact is, that if Angela had found that cord, you would now be dead-or worse." But fortunately for you, I was the one who found it. And I'm quite a reasonable sort of chap." He smiled, and slowly began to take off his shirt.
"What are you doing, Bill?" I said.
He 6at on the edge of the bed. "Take off my shoes, slave," he ordered. Hardly knowing what I wad doing, I went up to the bed to do as he wanted. As I was about to kneel down, he grasped the front of my dress near the throat, and with one save movement tore it right down. "Now off with the rest of your things," he commanded, if you don't want me to tear them all to shreds. And in future, slave, the moment I come into the room, yon don't waste a moment to take everything off. In my presence you will go about naked, do you understand?"
Stunned, I undressed completely, then knelt down to take off Bill's shoes. While I was doing this, he seized one of my breasts and squeezed it so hard between his two hands, that I let out a cry of pain. He laughed, lifted me up and threw me on the bed. Then he got undressed, and threw himself upon me. He was the first man in my life, and I wondered if there would be anything left of me after he had finished. There were no preliminaries to his love making no refinements, and no consideration whatsoever of my person. He simply seised me like a ferocious beast, his burning cock tore at my entrails as it burst into me, and I had to bite my lips to stop myself from screaming as his cock went further and further in till. I could feel his balls pressing tight against me out side. He now set about the task of achieving his pleasure with such frenzied brutality that I was almost unconscious by the time he had finished and had released me. Before my eyes the image of Gerry Thomas' body kept passing tantalisingly.
"That's better," said Bill, who was lying stretched out out beside me, "that's the first good fuck I've had since I've been here. All that other stuff is titillation and drugs."
"Do you mean she drugs you" I asked.
"Of course she does," answered Bill. "She drugs everybody. All the men are fed with aphrodisiacs in such quantities that they nearly go mad. You saw the fellow she polished off yesterday. Even after she'd dug the knife into his balls the first time, his cock was still standing."
"But that's murder," I said.
"Yes," said Bill, "it's murder all right."
"But how can you stay here and endure all that?"
"No choice," said Bill. "I enjoy it." he laughed. "As my slave, you'll soon learn the ropes; don't worry. In a week's time you'll find you can't live without seeing it happen." He laughed again. I realised that he was completely mad, and a cold chill ran down my. body. He noticed this and looked at me suspiciously.
"I'm cold," I said. "Can I get dressed?"
"You've already had your orders. While I am around ,the slave will remain naked." He grinned at me. "Are you going to see the show to-night."
"I don't know," I said.
"It should be funny to-night," he said. "Angela is going to throw the little Irish girl to the wolves."
"Wolves?"
"Yes, all the youngsters you saw here. The drug Angela is going to give them to-day will make them nearly crazy. They'll tear the little Irish slut to pieces. I should sneak along and-have a peep. It will give you an idea of what might happen to you if ever try to double-cross me."
"I might," I said, humouring him.
"And tomorrow night, there's another lovely number," Bill continued. She's picked out that youngster Gerry Thomas for a special bit of fun. It won't be so funny for him, of course..."
"What is she going to do to him?" I asked, horror-shuck.
"She's going to fasten a glass jar full of bees round his cock and balls," he said. "That's just the beginning. After that she's going to test out the stretching powers of the human cock. That's the part where everybody else joins in. To finish up the party she's got a lovely little device for slow castration. I can promise you that you'll enjoy yourself. By the way, I don't want Angela to know about our relationship. You understand?"
"Yes, Bill."
"In future you will call me master." "Very well."
"You can dress me now, slave. I might want to use you later on to-night. If I do, I'll come for you."
I did as he ordered. When he was dressed he seized me by the hair and pulled me towards him. He looked at me malevolently, and gave me a vicious kiss on the breasts, biting deep into the flesh.
"Carry out my orders, and you'll live," lie said. He pushed me aside and went out.
I opened the door and peered down the corridor. Then I sat on the bed and cried. I was so frightened that I thought of going off there and then. But there were not trains till the morning, and in the countryside Bill would still find me. If I reached the village, I could knock at one of the houses and ask for help and protection. But would I ever get as far as the village? Finally I decided that I might as well try. Anything was better than stopping in the manor. But then there was Gerry Thomas. Could I warn him of the horrible fate that was in store for him? I knew now that I loved the boy, and the thought of his healthy virile young body being mutilated in such a horrible fashion made me ill with terror.
No, somehow or other I should get a message through to him. I decided to go along that night to the rose-garden. Perhaps I should have an opportunity to get close to him wihout being seen. Bill would be looking out for me, but I could approach the rosegarden from the other side.
I washed my self, and made ready. I put on a warm dark jumper, and selected the darkest skirt I had. In the fruit bowl in the dining room I had noteced a fruit-knife with a very sharp point. I decided to take it with me on my way through.
Then I put out the light in my room, got into bed i�i my clothes, and waited. Once I heard soft footsteps going past my room. They paused for a moment or two outside, and then went on don the corridor. No doubt that was Alice on her way to bed.
When I judged the time to be right, I slipped out of bed and quietly made my way downstairs. On my way I took the fruit-knife, and put it in the pocket of my jumper. With great care I made my way to the rose-garden. As I approached it I heard the drum again. Slowly I made my way round the garden, before I climbed up the bank from which I should be able to see. I had judged my position well. I had come out on the far side of the perimeter. Bill's naked body at the drum was facing away from me, to my right, and I had quite a few thick trees for my protection.
I looked down at the scene below. All the young men were naked as on the previous night, so was Angela. The same torch was burning. In her hand Angela held a whip, which was using on the young men as they passed round her in a circle. I now noticed that all their hands were tied fast behind their backs. Each one's cock stood upright, and I saw that Angela's whip was aimed at their parts. The young men seemed to be half-mad with the frenzy of their inflamed sex, and the lashes of the whip made them worse and worse. Shamelessly, with the same sick feeling of desire, I searched for Gerry Thomas among the crowd. I saw him just as Angela's whipped slashed at his cock. He squirmed as his cock shot up, and for a moment I thought that Angela's stroke of the whip had achieved the orgasm. But no, it hadn't. He was back in the circle of men now, his cock swaying from side to side tautly as he walked. How I should have liked to have assuaged his fire for him. I longed to kiss his burning body, and to stroke his inflamed organs with my hands.
Suddenly one of the young men seemed to go berserk. As the whip lashed him, he rushed forward and threw himself at the man in from. Both of them, their hands tied, fell awkardly to the ground, and the one who was on top was trying to thurst his member in the other's behind. Angela came up, and began to lash out with her whip, savagely. Scream ing with pain, the men got up and joined heir companions.
Despite myself, I was gripped by an unclean excitement. I felt myself enjoying the strokes of the whip, and a thrill of acute pleasure ran through my thighs each time Angela brough the lash down upon one of the young cocks. I discovered that I, too, would have liked to have used the whip upon the taut cocks and the tantalising testicles Below them. Whereas I had felt almost nothing, apart from the pain, while Bill was using my body, I now felt my fanny moist with excitement. So strong was the feeling that I found I could not keep my hands away from myself, and, leaning against a tree, I gave myself up to the pleasure, while my eyes fastened upon Gerry's cock.
Suddenly there was a change in the scene before me. Two other men now led a girl into the garden. I recognised the young Irish girl. Brutally they now undressed her, and, when the had finished, flung her to the ground and walked off. The girl looked round in terro. The drum now began to beat faster, and Angela's strokes of the whip became fiercer. Suddenly one of the men, demented, threw himself at he girl. With his hands tied behind hie back, he wag not quite able to insert is cock into her cunt, and she managed to push him away. But more and mor^e of the men-Gerry among them--now got to her. Some of them seized her hair in their teeth, others began to kick her. Now one of the men was inside her and was giving reiu to his lust. Another was using the space between her breasts to ease his passion. Yet another had her from behind. As she began to be squeezed to death, the girl screamed terribly. After that there was a cock in her mouth and other cocks were pressing her body from all sides. No sooner had one man achieved his orgasm, than another would take his place. Those on the edge of the crowd who were unable to reach her were using the behinds of the men in front. Screaming with insane laughter, Angela stood over the group, her whip lashing out indiscriminately. How long the orgy lasted I do not know. I remember that when the last man moved away from the little rumpled body on the ground, Angela inspected it.
From the way the body rolled over as Angela touched it, I knew that the girl was dead. The men's cocks were limp now, but stil I extended. As the two men who had brought the girl in, now carried off the body, Angela's whip began moving again. Very soon the erections were back. Some of the men went to the edge of the rose-garden to relieve themselves. As luck would have it, Gerry Thomas came over and stood nearly opposite me, and began to pee.
"Gerry!" I whispered.
He looked round, astounded.
"I'm just here," I said. "In the bushes at the top. I'm the girl who saw you when you first came for an interview. I've learnt mat tomorrow night they're going to kill you in their horrible way, and I came here to warn you":
"What can I do?" said Gerry. "We're locked up all the time, and we're fed on drugs."
"From where I am I can see everybody," I said. "Quick, lie down flat on the ground, and when I tell you, run up her quickly."
He did as I said, and I waited breathlessly to see if his absence had been noted. As Angela turned away, I whispered to Gerry and he ran up and joined me. His body was shivering.
"It's the drugs," he explained. Quickly we made our way through the park, till we were near the main gates.
"How can I go like this?" said Gerry.
I gave him my jumper. "Put that round your shoulders now," I said. "When we meet somebody, you can take it off and put it round your middle."
It took us half an hour to reach the village, and knock up the village doctor. At first he took us for lunatics, and would not believe our story. Finally he agreed to take us in his car to the county police headquartersabout 11 miles away.
What happened after that is well known to everybody. The story was in all the papers not only in England but all over the world. Both the Duchess and Bill managed to commit suicide when they realised they were about to be arrested for murder. For months afterwards the police were digging up the bodies of victims in the Manor grounds.
The major's companion stopped, had a stiff drink and lit a cigarette.
"And what happened to this Gerry Thomas?" asked one of the women customers.
The major's companion patted the major's cheek. "Gerry Thomas," she said has never left me since."
CHAPTER IX
The next evening it was the old workman who was selected by George to tell a story.
As usual, the fire was burning brightly in the bar grate, the company were assembled comfortably round the fire-side table, drinks stood in front of them, and the barman was attentive for the inevitable further orders. Mrs, Smith, less and less reluctant to tolerate the company as time went on-partly no doubt on account of the good money she was making from the table, and partly through her own interest in the different stories-had now arranged a seat at the corner of the bar from which she would not miss a word. Nor did she refuse to be included in each round, so that, on the whole, the company each evening was a lively on as it got near to closing-time. The barman, who had a permanent erection now every evening, also accepted the free drinks which came his way without hesitation or reference to Mrs. Smith, and did his best not to miss a word of any story occasionally he disappeared into the lavatory to masturbate away his over-heated reactions to the things he had heard but the companya broadminded-one, it must be admittedunderstood this necessity and noone was cruel enough to carry on a story during his absence. By now all the members of the company were known to one another by their Christian names, and it might be as well at this point to make the names clear, so that the reader should not be confused.
George, the dwarf, Ella, the dwarf's girl-friend
Gerry, the Major
Muriel, the Major's companion
Elsie, the woman customer who had become drunk during her story
Anne, the other woman customer, Alfred, the youngish clerk
Tom, the old workman, Mick, the barman, Bettina, Mrs. Smith.
Tom, the workman, now took half-a-pint swig at his pint, and began his story. You see, began Tom, it's not how I might be like any of you here. The difference is that, at my age, there's nothing doing any more with the old whatyer call it, that is the flibbertygibet, or if ,you likes to put it in the Queen's English, the perishing old weapon of war, or what you might even call cock. In fact, it's no shame to admit that at my age the balls is no more than a couples of pieces of decoration, like the velvet knobs you get at the bottom of curtains, and as for my cock even if the Queen herself took herclothes off and, unknown to the king took a taxi and suddenly slipped into my bed, with the command: Get up you old beast, the darned thing still couldn't manage it. In fact you might now call it, if you had the misfortune to see it at all, a sort of shrivelled tube which is too tired out even to run the piss out properly.
Still, let's get to the point. After all, you're not gathered here to learn what you might look like and feel like in your old age. What you want to hear is the sort of story that's going to wet the lady's cratche, and make the gentlemen's weapons stand on end.
Mind you, in my own way, I've got a lot of pleasure out of hearing all you youngsters, male and female, talking about your juicy goings-on, and I've liked the drinks and the fire and the company, as you might say. So I reckon it wouldn't be really right to tell you the sort of story that's likely to leave you all cold, and for that reason I'm going to go back a few years in my life, in fact about fifteen if I remember rightly, to the time when my missus was still alive.
Now at that time we was running a farm in Kent. The kids we'd had had either married themselves and more or less disappeared, or died in the war; or didn't want to have much to do with us, so there we were, in this farm, all on our own, both of us getting older, and the money from the farm not being so good that we could employ all the labour we wanted. I used to do most of the rough work myself, and the old woman did the milking and things like that. Now, though I never said much to her in public like, and never made a great fuss of her even in private if you know what I mean, I did inside me have a soft spot for the old girl, and it used to hurt me to see her sighing and holding her joints ass he bent down to milk the cows each morning. Now one day, as it was nearing her birthday, I slipped off to Canterbury, and went into a farm machinery shop and said to the girl there: Now, what have you got, miss, in the way of these new-fangled cow-milking machines which will save my old woman breaking her back every morning? That's easily enough avoided, sir she said, we've got automatic milkers for every kind of cow. Well. I had a look round the place, and I picked out what I wanted. How many pints a day does your cow yield, asked the girl. Apparently it depended on the milk output of your cow, which strength of machine you took. 50 pints a day, I said. The girl got out the right model, I paid for it in hard cash, and off home I went.
I meant to keep it as a surprise for the old woman's birthday, but seeing it was only a few days away, I thought I might as well save her the extra bending down in between. That evening I unwrapped the package, and put it on the table. There you are, old girl, I said, that should make your life easier, eh? She admired the machine, and she seemed very pleased with it, which I wasn't surprised at considering price the darned things cost. Next morning very early just as she was going off to the cow-shed she said. But I don't know how it works, Tom. Well, as it happens, I was still in me night-shirt, and me old cock was just hanging outside the edge of the shirt.
The old women, by that time of her life, didn't take it inside very often, though she used to toss me off whenever I wanted it.. By a stroke of what you might call coincidence I wanted it that morning, and the old cock was even standing up a bit, like a dog begging. Look here, girl, I said to her, supposing as how we try one of the tubes on my cock, that will learn you how to use the gadget on the cows, and it will give me a bit of pleasure at the same time.
Well, she didn't abject to that, and we put the tube on me doings, and set the machine off. I must say it had a lovely pull, and it did its job in no time. I've .finished now, I said, you can turn it off. Me missus begad fiddling around with the machine, but she couldn't find the knob to switch it off. Then I had a go, because I can tell you that, by that time what with me having already come, and me spunk being drained away as it were, it wasn't none too comfortable, the machine still going away at me doings. Well, I couldn't find the darned switch either. Then we had a look at he printed instructions, but it said everything there except how to turn the ruddy thing off. By that time the thing had finished me off a second time, and t was still going strong. Look here I said to the old woman, you get through to Canterbury, got through to someone there, there's bound to be someone on duty even at his time of the morning, and find how the thing can be turned off.
While me missus was on the phone the thing had made me come a third time, and it wasn't as much pleasure as pain I can tell you for an old man, and was was now busy tossing me off a fourth time. Each stroke of the tube was painful, and me cock had swollen up so that even me own mother wouldn't have recognised it. I tried to get out of the tube every way I could, but the grip inside it just wouldn't let me go. Up and down it went, up and down, up and down. Then, thank the Lord, the old woman came back from the phone. Well? I said. It was the night man on duty, she said. He said it switches itself off automatically when it gets to fifty pints...
(The company round the fireside burst into loud laughter).
After that, said Tom, I got the old woman to bring a chopper, and we just smashed it up.
CHAPTER X
For quite a while, after Tom's story, the company did nothing hut laugh and drink. It was quite late already when George asked Anne to be the next to speak.
Well, said Anne, beginning her story, I certainly can't promise to be as entertaining as Tom, but all the same I think v my story is an unusual one. In view of the time, I'll try to tell it to you as quickly as I can.
My parents had strict ideas about the bringing up of their daughters-there were three of us altogether-and the and of fifteen I found myself in one of those semi-religious establishments where the girls not only acquire a smattering of learning, but such social arts as dancing, polite conversation, and mothercraft, which, taken in that sequence, seem to represent a pretty logical sequence of female activity. My two sisters had already passed through this school and their bearing at the end was so raw, naive, and pitiably lacking in modern ideas, that my parents were extremely satisfied, and I followed them as a matter of course.
I found the boarding-school pretty unbearable, and the mistresses unhealthy, affected, ignorant, and generally frightful. Fortunately I soon made friends with some of the other girls, and, between us, we formed a common front, so that for at least for a little while each day we could act as human beings, and as ethereal prigs with whimperingly affected accents and apparently possessing no bodily functions whatsoever.
About the only popular class in the whole curriculum was the dancing class. Just about the time of my entrance, a new dancing master had been appointed and, as he was the only male in the shool apart from a ghastly Guy Fawkes with a red nose who taught science and who himself stank horribly, it is not surprisingly that most of the girls in the schools very soon fell in love with the young master. And not only the girls, apparently, but the mistresses as well, for his manner was courteous to all alike, and his soulful treated every individual in the school with the greatest understanding.
Very soon the news got around .that the young dancing master, Arthur was his name by the way, had seduced one of the girls. Every other girl in the school was furiously jealous, of course, but we made up for our jealousy by rubbing up against his body during the dancing lessons. Now most of us knew already how the male organs looked and functions, and we had a lovely time telling each other, after the dancing lesson, how stiff his thing was under his trousers as he tried out the various steps with us. After a while, by common consent, we made it so hot for the soulful young man, that his cock was never limp at all. By various other harmless feminine stratagems we also contrived to let him see our young breasts (that is, those of us who had any), our thighs during the dance, and our whole bodies as we rushed on prearranged signals at his appearance in the corridor, from the bathroom to our domitory.
Before very long, the young man had his nights full. More and more girls would slip away, after the lights were out, and would return an hour later, blissful, tired, and full of the most extraordinary sexual adventures.
The young man's capacity for sexual enjoyment lust have been quite phenomenal, because, by the time I managed to attract hit attention and obtain a rendez-vous, he must already have been going with about half the girls in the school, and, so rumour had it, with a few of the mistresses as well.
That night I serubbed myself very clean all over, put far too much lipstick (a forbidden article in the school) on my lips, dabbed myself in various places with eau de cologne, trimmed my toe-nails and my finger-nails, and, in my unfortunately not very flimsy night-dress, tip-toed from my dormitory to the dancing master's room.
I tapped on his room, heard the soft come in, and entered breathlessly.
He was sitting, fully dressed on his bed, smoking. He smiled at me. kindly, and beckoned me to approach. I came nearer, and stood in front of him. He lifted my nightdress with one hand (the other was holding his cigarette), rolled it up at my neck, took his cigarette out of his mouth and bit both of my nipples in turn. Then he placed me on the bed, stroked my body, from the top down, and opened my legs. He kissed me where I wanted to feel his cock entering, and then he said: If I do it now, my dear, I shall hurt you terribly. You see, the first time it always hurts, because my cock is a very big one. He laughed and added: I suppose that's why I'm always so popular with women. Anyway, he continued, the first time I shall do it with my hand, and as soon as young little cunt has been stretched out enough we shall do it together, and then I shall lie right on top of you, and my cock will be right inside you... Very skilfully, he played with my cunt with his hand, till my first orgasm had been reached, then he kissed me and told me to come back the next day.
Naturally, questioned by the other girls on my return, I did not say exactly what had happened. I allowed my imagination to run riot, and gave them a wonderful fictitious account of how his cock, which I described as being nearly eighteen inches long in the state of erection (I used this word very knowingly) had penetrated right inside me, and how wonderful it had been for me when his spunk (I had picked this word up from other girls) had shot inside me, like a shower of boiling water. This made the other girls laugh so much, that for weeks afterwards I was called Shower of Boiling Water. I didn't mind being ribbed about it, thought, because my reputation did not suffer in any way-on the contrary.
I went to see the dancing-master almost every night. It for a week or so he continued doing it for me with his hand. Then he taught me to do it myself with candles, and the handle of a clothes-brush and other things. Sometimes I did it like that, sitting in front of a mirror, while he photographied me.
Eventually, one night after I had taken my night-dress off, he put out the tight, and for a while I could hear him undressing quickly (previously he had always remained dressed). He joined me on the bed, lay on top of me, and allowed is cock to pass into me..
His cock was terribly hard, like iron, and I couldn't help thinking that even the wooden clothes-brush handle was softer. I wanted to touch his balls with my hand while he was fucking me, but he wouldn't let me. His cock, I must say, did seem enormous, and I was certainly well and truly fucked by the time he rolled off me. He must have enjoyed himself, too, because he gave me a passionate kiss, before he told me to collect my nightdress and to go. He wouldn't let me put the light on, and I had to fumble my way out of the room.
He used to fuck me, after that, about once every fortnight. The rest of the time we used to do the other things. He old me one night that he was now fucking every girl in the school, and every one of the schoolmistresses, and that's why, although he loved me more than anyobdy else he just couldn't use his cock on me more than he did. This seemed very logical to me, and I didn't complain.
Our dancing lessons, as time went on, became more and more lax, and once the headmistress caught us all sitting down, while the dancing-master was sitting down by us, smoking and telling us a lovely story about his sexual adventures in Italy.
"Girls, get up at once," the Headmistress said coldly. Although she was quite a young woman, she had a great sense of discipline. The dancing-master looked at the Headmistress insolently and countermanded her order. "Girls," he said, "you will stay exactly as you are." He turned round to the Headmistress, and, in front of all of us, first gave her a savage kiss on the mouth, then felt her fanny through her dress, so that we could all see the gesture, patted her behind, turned her to the door and pushed her out. At the door he said to her: "You can sleep with me tonight."
After this the dancing-master's authority was absolute in the school. He did just what he liked and noone interfered. At a certain point he also began to drink, a little at first, then more and more heavily.
With the increase of his drinking' appetites, his manner became more and more careless. Frequently now, during the dancing lesson, he would undress one of the girls, and compel her Co perform the sexual act on herself, while he and the rest of us watched. Soon this habit became more pronounced, and the dancing-clas es acquired the character of sexual orgies. We all now had to Cake our clothes off, while he sat with a camera, and took photographs of us as singly or in groups, we indulged in various solitary and joint sexual activities in front of him. It was not long before the mistresses had to follow our example, and the school very often resembled a nudist colony more than anything else.
Now I suppose everything would have passed off all right, had it not been for the science Master. Seeing so many nude girl and mistresses all over the place, the dirty stinking old man could not overpower his own temptations, and one day, in the corridor outside his class-room, he raped a girl called Sally Elliott. She didn't mind the rape so much, but she just couldn't stand the smell of the old man's cock, and she was terribly sick afterwards. Nor did the matter end there, because shortly afterwards funny things started happening to her fanny, and eventually the doctor was calle in, and then we all learned to our horror that she had venereal disease. The science Master had in the meantime disappeared, but after a two week's search the police found him and arrested him. At his trial he decided to reveal the goings on in the school, and the outcry in the papers was colossal.
While all this had been going on, the dancing-master had been drinking more and more heavily, and had become completely careless. The evening the police arrived at the school, for an investigation, he was playing the piano at the far end of the dancinghall, whie in from of him some thirty young girls were either dancing or disporting themselves variously in the nude.
It was at that moment that the door opened and the President of the school, accompanied by the police, walked in. The dancing mas ter went quite bersek. He pelted the new comers with his music, and everything else he could lay his hands on. Then suddenly he began ripping off his clothes. None of us had seen him in the nude as yet, and we all watched with interest. Imagine our consternation when the removal of the top garments down to the waist of the dancing master revealed a pair of breasts. Then the trouser and pants flew throught the air in the direction of the petrified newcomers, as the lower part of the body of a woman became revealed.
Never shall I forget that scene, nor my morbid fascination at seeing the strange leatter tube which the woman, who had masqueraded so long and so successfully as our male dancing-master had affixed to the front of her fanny. It was with this piece of leatter that, in a mad frenzy, she slashed the heads of the policeman as they closed in on her.
Of course, she was Certified insane.
It took a long time to pacify the girl, and to get them to dress themselves and go off to their tea. In my case, I have never forgotten the experience. I have never been able to love a man's body since, and I wonder often if the other girls in my class did not also suffer the same consequences...
CHAPTER XI
My story, said Alfred, the youngish clerk, who was the next to speak, is a very simple one.
At eighteen I stared work in the office of a perfume manufacturer in London. I liked the work, and it wasn't very long before I was promoted to assist the secretary of the woman director, Miss Flannel. One night Miss Flannel asked me to stop on in the office with her to catch up on arrears of work.
Till then I had never had any experience of sex of any kind. As a boy I did masturbate a bit, but after I took up cycling I stopped the habit, and in fact didn't think about sex at all.
Miss Flannel was about forty, thick-set, not and particularly attractive, though she dressed well, and used make up to great advantage.
Everybody else in the office had gone, and I was sorting out the documents on my deskexport orders which had to be got ready for the next day-and not paying much attention to Miss Flannel, whose desk was by the window. A few of the orders were difficult to understand, as they were made out in foreign languages, without any accompanying text in English, and several times I had to go up to Miss Flannel to get her help with the foreign texts. (She herself spoke a lot of languages).
After an hour' work, we had finished. Miss Flannel produced a wine bottle from her desk, and told me to bring a chair up to her desk.
"I like you, Alfred," she said, "You're a good worker. If you go on pleasing me yon will go a long way in this firm." She poured me out a glass of wine, poured herself a small whiskey from a quarter bottle, offered me a cigarette. No sooner had I drunk the wine when I felt my head reeling, and my legs and arms turning to putty.
I passed out completely, and when I came to, I was on the sofa, and Miss Flannel was beside me sponging my face.
"You are a baby," she laughed. "Fancy passing out after one glass of wine." I sat tip and lit a cigarette, I felt all right but still a bit faint. I also felt peculiarly itchy round my crutch. Within a few minutes of my recovery, the itch had become unbearable," and, despite myself, my hand went down to scratch.
Miss Flannel looked at me strangely. "Is there anything the matter, Albert?" she asked.
"No, Madam," I said. "I just seem to have a terrible itch. Maybe the wine caused it. I don't normally drink at all." Again my hand went down to the front of my trousers and I scratched furiously.
"You poor boy," said Miss Flannel. "You've probably got a touch of inflammation there."
I couldn't help blushing. "I'm sorry, Madam," I said. "I hope you don't think it's awful manners on my part."
Miss Flannel laughed. "You silly boy," the said "you don't have to be ashamed of anything like that. In any case, I don't suppose you know it, but I qualified as a doctor before I started this business, and I know all about the human body. In fact, I think I'd better examine you now, and Bee if I can't help you. After all you can't go long the street scratching away like that." She pushed me back on to the sofa, and then, to my shame and consternation, she began to undo the buttons of my trousers. I tried to protest, but she just laughed at me and called me a silly boy.
Her hand was under my balls, and I felt her squeezing. Then she ran her fingers along my cock. I couldn't stop my cock getting stiff. The burning itch was now almost intolerable, so bad in fact that I began to feel quite desperate.
"Yes," said Miss Flannel. "It's a touch of inflammation. I've got something which will put it all right for you." She went to her desk, and came with a jar of cream, which she proceeded to rub into my parts. The itch in the skin subsided, but something else replaced it: a feeling of lust such as I had never experienced in my life.
I must have become momentarily quite mad, because suddenly I seized the top of her dress and ripped it off her body. I tore off her underclothes and threw myself on her on the floor. I was foaming at the mouth with lust, as I fucked her.
When I had finished I rolled off her body, and helped her up. We both sat on the sofa. I was terrified of what I had done.
"Madam," I said, "I don't know what you must think..."
"Don't be silly," she said. "What happened then was perfectly natural. And don't call me Madam any more. My name is Eve."
"Thank you very much," I said. "I was so frightened just now, I thought you might even call in the police. After all, it was rape, wasn't it?"
She laughed. "Whatever it was it was very nice." She brushed my cock lightly with her fingertips, and of course I immediately got stiff again. She brought a glass of water and sponged my cock and balls. Then she suddenly pressed her face against me and I felt her tongue running over my cock.
"You just lie back and relax," she said. She now had her mouth over my cock. With her hands she was squeezing my balls. I came almost at once, and, as she felt me coming, he increased her suction, so that the spunk which poured out of me must have been enormous in amount.
From that I became Eve's lover. I learned afterwards that she had drugged my wine that first night, and then had rubbed a violent aphrodisiac into my cock. But I didn't care. I had been promoted to personal secretary, I was earning very good money, and I had a mistress who encouraged me to give way to the most violent expressions of lust.
The week-ends I spent it Eve's house in the country and our association might have continued for years had not extraordinary incident occured, some four months after the scene I have described in the Office.
Eve had a boxer dog, a male, who was passionately devoted to his mistress, and who right from the start was furiously jealous of my relations with his her.
One night at Eve's house, my cock jutting out in front of me, (we were in the middle of our preliminaries), I went out of her bedroom, naked as I was, to fetch some whiskey. The dog was waiting for me. Its vast jaws closed round my cock, and his teeth went, ferociously right through the flesh. There was a soft plop on the floor : this was the bleeding tube which had been my cock...
Miss Flannel compensated me for the loss of my cock, and she got a good surgeon to patch me. But of course I was no use to her any more, as all I have had since then in front of my balls is a stump of cock barely half an inch long. I lost the job, and I drank through the money I had as compensation . It took me a long time to settle down, but I managed it at last, and nowadays I can accept my disability philosophically. When I'm not working or drinking, I do a lot of cycling.
CHAPTER XII
The next night it was the Major's turn to tell a story.
You already know, began the Major, about the unfortunate sexual experiences I went through as a very young man. However Muriel and I were very happy together, and the wounds inflicted upon both of us did not take long to heal. When the war came, like everybody else I didn't think it would last very long. I just gave up all thoughts of sex, and concentrated upon my military career. I was serving in India. I was just due to go on leave when the Japs entered the war, and of coarse all leave was cancelled.
At the time my unit was stationed about a hundred miles from Bombay. Round the camp were a number of small settlements, and farther away a filthy village the name of which I have forgotten. Anyway, the night we learned that leave was cancelled, most of us got pretty blotto. In company with a few of my fellow officers, I went out to look for adventure -be it women, more drinks, or just a look-in at a gambling joint. We reached the village, had a few drinks in a frightful evil-smelling parody of a cafe, and went on to the brothel to which the cafe proprietor had recommended us. We smelt it before we even saw it. Its garishly painted exterior did not make it any more wholesome, and when we set foot inside and received the full blast of the stench of corruption, dirt, and diseased decay, we all decided ,drunk though we were, that our sexual needs would have to wait. By this time some women, of incredible blowsiness of appearance, unwashed and reeking of disease, their teeth disfigured by betel-chewing, had descended upon us, and were clawing at our parts through our shorts. By distributing sufficient money we managed to extricate ourselves, and get out. We had a few more drinks, then the party broke up. Some returned to camp, others went off to play cards and to drink elsewhere, and I myself decided to go for a walk to sober up before I returned to camp. I passed out of the village, and followed the dark road for a mile or two. The vast trees were full of giant bats, and the undergrowth at the side of the road was teeming with animal life. Soon I arrived at a large settlement which I had never seen before. By now it was getting on for midnight, and I did not expect to see anyone around at all. I was surprised when a slim young girl appeared out of nowhere, and whiningly began to demand buckshees. I gave her a coin, but that wasn't enough for her. She had her arms round my thighs, and was doing her best to reach my cock. Well, I suddenly decided to accept her offer. I seized her, took her to the side of the road, and fucked her. I enjoyed myself thoroughly, and I was just sliding my cock in for a second go, when I was suddenly seized from behind, my hands tied, and my mouth gagged. I was carried into the settlement, and into a big hut in which an old man was sitting on a carpet in front of an ornamental oil-lamp.
"Why do you rape this young girl?" asked the old man.
"I'm far away from home, and it*s a long time since I bad a woman," I explained.
The young girl now came in, and the old man questioned her closely. Several times she giggled. Then the old man turned round to me.
"Good," he said, "from now on you will stay with us. You will be well fed, and well looked after but you will always be tied up so that you cannot escape."
"What do you want to do with me?" I asked.
"I shall tell you," said the old man. "The young men in this settlement all visited Bombay recently, to sell our produce there. On their returned it turned our that they had all contracted a veneral disease, following a visit to a brothel in Bombay. In the interests of the community here, I immediately had all these men castrated so that the disease should not spread. Unfortunately now we lack the young men to fertilate our women. By the will of the Almighty you have arrived here and pleased one of our women. Your physique is good, and I have decided to use you to breed strong children. That will be your only task here."
I was led away, given a hut to myself, and made comfortable. The next day my duties began. I was used in the same way as a bull might be. My parts were permanently on show, and all I was allowed to wear was a pair of sandals, and a sort of shawl over my head and should shoulders.
During the day I was tied to a tree by the ankles, and all the women of the settlement used to come out, feel me all over, and then Bit round chew betel nuts and talk to each other about me. Then they would picks lots, and one of them would get undressed, and come over and use my body. After four or five times in a few hours, my cock would refuse to get stiff, and then the old women, who were always in attendance to advise the younger ones, would beat my balls with stinging nettles. This way I could be used another four or five times.
I was prisoner in the settlement for two years. During this period I must have fucked over four thousand women. The other settlements had heard about me, and the head of the settlement which owned me used to hire my cock out to her communities for a daily charge. "Within the first year my sons and daughters numbered hundreds already, and after a year and a half I was the father of well over two thousand half-caste infants. All the women called me husband, in an expressionless sort of way, and to all the ghastly brats I was Papa.
Every few months the village celebrated a sort of fertility festival, and on these occasions my cock and balls, resplendently painted, played the central role. All the mothers (by me) would come up and kiss my cock, and alll the young boys would place their members against mine while they masturbated: this was to infect them with my fertility. After a lot of dancing and chanting, and Heavens knows what else had taken place, about twenty very young girls would toss me off into a kind of vast ornamental saucer: this they did very slowly and very formalistically. After that each woman in the settlement would come up to the saucer, dip her finger in the spunk and suck it.
I might mention that, with the enforced excesses of intercoures and the oiling of my parts by the old women after the day's duties were completed, had stretched my cock, which was always substantiel, into a remarkable size. Certainly it wasn't smaller than a horse's cock after a year had passed.
My fame as a human breeding agent, had apparently extended all over India. Barren women would arrive from afar to be inseminated be me, and once a week very young females from the settlements for miles around would arrive to kiss my cock or a small fee. In fact the settlement not only used me as a breeding agent but was making, a nice packet out of me all round.
One day, as I was in the middle of my seventh fuck since morning, there a lot of shouting from the the Huts belonging to the Settlement Head, and then a messenger arrived to say that I was to be prepared for a journey right away. I learned that the settlement had sold me for at a vast price to the Maharanee of another state.
The journey took about three weeks, and I arrived at Gombalore, and, after being washed and perfumed, was taken before the Maharanee.
I was placed beore her, and then, to the accompaniment of strange music, my great cock was slowly unveiled. The Maharanee was in raptures, and demanded to see it put into operation. She herself was very old and wizened, and she had bought me merely as an exhibit to show off to her more honoured guests. I fucked one of the women slaves, after a lot of preliminary play, and the Maharanee was quite delighted.
My life as the Maharanee's slave was much easier than the phase I had been through before that, and sometimes for days on end my cock was left alone. On other days, though, I had to perform publicly for hours on end, while the Maharanee and her distinguished Indian guests laid best regarding my capacities. I remember one banquet at which I had to finish fourteen times. There was also a day when I was off colour, and I disgraced the Maharanee by becoming incapable after a paltry four fucks.
I don't know how long this sort of existence would have continued, but one evening I was led out unexpectedly, and there, round the low banqueting table, were the usual twenty or thirty guests-and among them a person whom I recognised immediately-my divisional commander. Of course he recognised me at once. As his eyes turned onto my enormous erect cock, his red face became absolutely purple.
"Good God, man," he bawled out, "you're drunk. Leave the room immediately. When you've recovered your senses, and put some clothes on, you can report to me here." Then he suddenly remembered that I had been missing for a year, and added, darkly : "So that's been the game, has it, by God?"
I was led back to my quarters. After a few minutes the Maharanee herself arrived. "Man with the cock of a horse," she said, "my honoured guest, the English general, demands your immediate return Although I have bought your cock for life, nevertheless, I do not wish to offend a guest and I shall therefore return you to him. No doubt you are wanted in England, to increase the population there."
An hour later I was sitting in the General's car and telling him my story, to which he listened attentively, explodong every so often into titanic laughter.
When I had finished my story, he laughed uproariously again slapped me on the shoulder, and said. "I always knew you had guts, Thomas. But by God I didn't know that one of them was that size!"
CHAPTER XIII
Mrs. Smith stirred uneasily, as Ella began her story. "Try and keep your voice down" she said anxiously.
Ella ignored Mrs. Smith, drained off her whiskey, took a great pull at her beer, and began.
It's no use pretending, said Ella, that I don't like men. I do. I have no resistance whatsoever against the human cock, and quite an interest in all cocks. I like to. see a cock rise, and I like to see the spunk pour out of it. That's why I prefer to toss men off rather than to be fucked by them. Of course that applies to the times when I'm with one man only. With a group of men, I can have it all ways. I like to have the things squirming between my breasts, or under my armpits, or between my toes, or in my behind, or in my hair, and of course one in my cunt as well and a couple each in each hand. No doubt that's what the communists mean when they talk about communal entertainments. It's very nice to see and to feel at the same time. And I like the taste of spunk; I think it's better than caviar; it goes beautifully, on toast and butter with champagne. It's difficult to keep, of course, but fresh supplies are always easy to get, so I don't worry. The only trouble is that some men are a bit shy, and need a lot of coaxing before they'll take part in group pleasures. As I said, other cocks interests me too. Monkey's cocks, for instance, dog's cocks are very easy to handle, sheep's cocks are a good size, and of course goats' cocks are a dream-absolute beauties. Horses' cocks are nicely shaped, and very easy to finish with a stick. As you can gather, I'm not exactly a virgin, and the nice little story I'm going to tell you should prove that my experience is quite extensive. In fact once you've heard the story, you'll agree that I could be called a good all-rounder.
by the time I was fifteen, I had been halffucked by my father that is to say tossed off by him while he tossed himself off, fucked fully by the masters at my school and most of the boys as well as by the postmen, dust en, rent-collectors, policemen, deliveryboys and Heaven knows who else. My art in masturbating the human cock was also pretty advanced by this time, and I had had time too to try out most forms of sodomy. It is common for adolescents to pass through a Byronic period, of assumed boredom and precocious cynicism, and at the age of seventeen, I succumbed to this malady myself. I thought I knew everything, and that I had seen every kind of cock and felt every size of human balls. So jaded and bored was I, that I used often to read a magazine and chew chocolates, while with one hand I tossed off a bunch of half a dozen cocks and allowed myself at the same time to be fucked in my cunt and all over my body. These harmless little adolescent group orgies used to take place in the fields outside the town in which I lived. The field actually formed part of the property of a farmer who was reputed to be very eccentric. We discovered my twenty or so boy friends and I, that we were being watched by someone hiding in the edge by the fields, and we guessed that the Peeping Tom must be the farmer. So as to drive the Peeping Tom into the open, we worked out a campaign for goading him sexually. "Went transferred the site of our little group games to the edge of the field by the edge, and when we saw the hedge rustling, we put our plan into operation. The boys all took off their trousers, then they undressed me and placed me, with my legs wide open, upon a heap of hay. My cunt was now in full view of the Peepin Tom. The boys now got some paint, and drew some circles round my cunt, so that finally my body resembled a shooting target, with my cunt as the bull. From a distance of one yard the boy now stood in front of me and tossed themselves off in turn, the ides being to hit the bull-that is my cunt-with their spunk. Of couo nobody hit the bull (we had arranged this advance), even though some of the boys had three or four goes. The game went on and on, and I lay the in the sun, with little spurts of warm spunk landing all over my body an my face.
Suddenly there was a bellow of anguish from the edge, and the farmer rushed out, his trousers off and his great rough stiff cock swaying from side to side in front of him. He was going to take a flying leap at me, but the boys seized him and pulled him to the ground. I came up to join in the ins pection, and I was amazed when I saw his scrotum. His balls were of a fantatic zize, such as I had not seen on any animal. Filled with curiousity, I tossed him off quickly while the boys held him, pointing his cock at my body. The spunk which shot out was so hot, that for a moment I thought my skin would be scalded. And the amount that came out was incredible. It just went on and on and on, pouring out in a thick hot creamy stream. At last he was finished.
The boys were as astonished as I was. "That must have been a good pint of spunk" said one of them, and the others agreed.
The farmer lay back, relieved. The boys no longer had to hold him down. I must admit that I was full of admiration for the power of his cock. I looked appreciatively at the patch of ground, some two yards away, where most of the spunk had fallen. As I did this, I suddenly noticed something white among the grass. I went over to look at it, and to my astonishment I saw a tiny mushroom. I examined the patch of ground more closely, and noticed a lot of other tiny mushroom heads.
"Do you know what," I said to the boys, "I think his spunk is so concentrated and hot chat it's already brought mushrooms out of the ground." The boys went to look, and their astonishment was a great as mine.
The farmer sighed. "I expect you're right," he said. Before my wipe died, she was literally covered with warts. I think my spunk has some specially quality. Whatever it is, that quality is a disaster to me. Since my wife's death I haven't been able to concentrate on my work, and now I'm nearly bankrupt. I'm even ashamed Co go to a doctor and show my balls."
An idea had been forming itself in my mind. I went over to the patch of ground again. Yes, sure enough, some of the mushroom heads were already mushrooms of average size; and all round them there were dozens and dozens of new little heads springing up.
"Look here," I said to the farmer. "I can put you of your sexual misery. Are you interested in coming to an arrangement with me?"
"If I could fuck you occasionally," said he farmer, "at least once a day, say, I should be the happiest man alive. At the moment I'm tossing myself off all the time, or going with my own sheep but that doesn't satisfy me. On the other hand I'm terrified about the poisonous quality o� my spunk. I'm quite certain that it was my spunk which turned my wife into a solid hideous mass of wartz, and killed her."
"You can use a French letter," I said. "In fact, to be on the safe side, you'd better wear three at once. If you promise to do that, I'll let you fuck me, but I insist on the boys being present, so that they can protect me in cave you go mad."
"You're a darling," said the farmer. "I agree absolutely. I'll do whatever you say.
The next day the boys and I went to the farmhouse. We all had a vast meal, then we cleared the table, the farmer put on his three French letters, and fucked me on the table. There was a good half-pint of liquid in the French letter which the boys took off the farmer's cock. I transferred the spunk very carefully to a jar, said good-bye to the farmer and, taking the jar with me, went out. In the woods near the farmhouse the boys and I now cleared the ground, and turned it over a little. Into this ground I poured minute quantities of the spunk. The spunk was enough for about half an acre of ground. We all went home, arranging to meet at the same place in the woods very early the next day.
Next morning I was the first there. What I had foreseen had happened. The area where we had poured the farmer's spunk was chock-full of the most colossal mushrooms I had ever seen. I got the boys to gather these in sacks, when they arrived, and we carried the mushrooms back to the town, and I sold them for a very good price to a vegetable wholesaler, who immediately ordered double the quantity for the next day.
I took fifty per cent of the proceeds, and gave the rest to the boys. Then we went back to the farmhouse, and I let the farmer fuck me three times. .This way we collected nearly a pint and a quarter of the precious liquid, went back to die wood, cleared more ground, and distributed the spunk as before. The next day I had over fifty pounds in. my Post Office account, and the boys had fifty pounds between them. The wholesaler was absolutely delighted, and said he would take any amount of mushrooms from me.
The farmere was now literally besieged by me and the boys. As soon as he had fucked me, some of the boys would go off with the liquid gold, white others and myself would stay behind, until the farmer had recovered sufficiently to have another fuck. It seemed that his balls were inexhaustable, and we carried off pint after of spunk each dy. Of course, my fanny became very sore in the process, as the farmer had about as much delicacy as one of his own bulls, but I didn't mind that at all, and my Post Office account soon reached a thousand pounds. The boys, much as they regretted the inaccessibility of my fanny during this period, were delighted with their share of the money, and worked like madmen.
To help us so drain off the farmer's spunk in an organised way, we got him to take to drink. Each day out of my earnings (which were soaring higher and higher) I bought him three bottles of Scotch, and with these and the reliet from his sexual pressures, he was perfectly happy. We also arranged for him to sell off all his stock of animals and all hid machinery. By now we were using every corner of his land for mushrooms. The wholesaler was now supplying the whole county with our mushrooms, and even London. My income at one time rose to nearly se ven hundred pounds a day.
To lighten my part of the work, the boys managed to get the farmer sozzmed enough to use their behinds. When he was really drunk and blind to the world, we all used to take turns in tossing him off. The daily output of mushroom growing spunk became enormous, and, as the farmer became drunker and drunker, and, it the end permanently drunk, there was hardly a moment day or night when his cock was not being masturbated for the precious liquid. The boys worked with lanterns at night to sew the mushrooms.
This carried on for about a year. My cunt by then was absolutely pulverised, and the shadows round my eyes were black and inches deep-or so it seemed to me. So as not to hurt my fanny, I used to walk very slowly. My arsehole was in much the same state, as very often I used to shove the farmer's terrible cock up my arse without his knowing.
Well, one day the end came. We had tossed him off a dozen times, while he was drunk, and suddenly there he was, dead. We called in the local doctor, who diagnosed heart failure, and the farmer was buried four days later.
by this time I had sixty thousand pounds in the bank. But I couldn't bear to think of thoe wonderful balls rotting under the round. One night, with the help of the boys, we dug the corpse out and I cut off the cock and the balls. The cock I kept as a souvenir, the balls, chopped up into pieces, we put in the ground. We had hoped to revive them somehow, but it was no good.
In the meantime we had experimented with the boy's spunk. I used to toss them all off into a bucket two or three times, until we had enough liquid to put into the ground. But nothing emerged from the ground except a few very measly toadstools.
Four days after the segments of the farmer's balls had been planted in the ground, we went (without much hope) to have a look. Imagine our surprise when we saw fourteen mushrooms each about eight feet high. We hired a lorry, loaded the gigantic mushrooms onto it, and went off to the vegetable wholesaler. He could hardly believe his eyes. He immediately wrote out a cheque for three thousand pounds, and said he would make money ou of the mushrooms by exhibiting them all over the world. Well, that was the end of my period as a fed-up and cynical young flapper.
To compensate the boys for their lean sexual period, even though they hid earned a lot of money, I gave them All a good time for a few weeks. They all fucked me, they all got sucked off, and one way and another, all their cocks were dry and happy by the time I left my native town and took myself off to London, where I have remained ever since.
I was rich, and could devote the rest of my life to enjoying the human cock.
I forgot to Bay that I tried some of the farmer's mushrooms-and they were delicious.
CHAPTER XIV
After Ella had finished her story, there was a long silence. The Major ordered another round, and Mick brought them to the table.
"Well, Mrs. Smith, and what about a story from you," said George.
"Get away with you," said Mrs. Smith, "I don't go in for any of them thanks, thanks."
"Mrs. Smith," said Ella to George, "definitely reacted when I mentioned the monkey's cocks. It occurs to me that this pub is only five minutes' walk from the zoo."
"Now then," said Mrs. Smith, "I heard that. And I Won't stand for any insinuations neither."
"Come on, Mrs. Smith," said George, "nobody minds the monkeys in the zoo. If the baboons didnt toss themselves off fox all to see, nobody would go to the zoo at all."
"I don't like the baboons," said Mrs. Smith, downing her drink. "It's the gorillas I like."
"Interesting," said Ella. "How do yon get them to get a hard on? It's not just the Bun you give them, is it?"
"You're terrible," said Mrs. Smith, "the way you puts your finger on everything. And in any case, can't a lonely old woman have her bit of fun too?"
"Very interesting," said the Major, "tell us just how you get the monkeys worked up, Mrs. Smith."
"Oh Major," said Mrs. Smith, "don't you be so silly. It's no doing of mine, is it, if the monkeys get their erections out, as the young lady would say, now is it?"
"I can always get a baboon to masturbate," said Ella "Auto-suggesti. But gorillas I find difficult. Besides, I'm not to keen on those thin little red cocks. I like cocks good and round."
"Rubbish," said Mrs. Smith, "there's nothing wrong with a gorilla's cock. It's your way of looking at it that counts."
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," said Muriel.
Everybody laughed.
"Myself, said the young clerk," I like the lovely hairless cunts of the funny apes with the purple and green behinds."
"You would," said Mrs. Smith.
"Now look here," began the clerk.
"Shut your gob," snapped Mrs. Smith, you and you purple and green behinds."
"Cunts," corrected the clerk.
"Behinds," said Mrs. Smith indignantly. Cunts indeed. It was behinds you was talking about, young gentlemen."
"I mentioned their behinds in passing, as it were," said the clerk. "After all, it*s cunts I'm interested in, I hope."
"Oh, shut up," said Mrs. Smith.
"Now then, ladies and gents," said the old workman. "Seeing as how my prick's as dead as doornails, I think I might act like the umpire, like, or referee, if you know what I mean."
"All right, then," said Ella, "As the referee, which would you prefer: a purple or a green behind?"
"I don't go on behinds, like," said the workman. "I like-or rather I used to likeme cunts. And as for colour like, I don't know as how the purple ain't better than the green."
"A purple cunt?" said Elsie. "Whoever head of such a thing?" "Don't be silly, Elsie," said Anne.
"Nobody's talking about purple Cunts. It's only cocks which get purple, my dear."
"I resent that,** said George.
"So do I," said the Major.
"Now look here, all of you," said Mrs. Smith, "whether it's purple cunts or purple cocks, or baboons or gorillas, for God's sake let's strange the subject, can't we?"
"Fair enough," said the clerk. "Although nobody's ever accused me before of being interested in purple behinds."
"There are Very few purple cunts in London,'* said Ella. "Only the Germans have a proper colour sense.1?'
"For heaven's sake, everybody," said the Major's companion, "let's keep the party dirty. If you're all going to get intelligent and analytical, there won't be any dirt left.'
"Hear, hear," said the workman.
There were murmurs of assent all round.
"I agree with that," said Mrs. Smith, "let bygones be bygones."
Muriel had paid the barman. As he was going back to the bar, Ella stopped him, deftly ripped his fly buttons opened, and took ou this young and rather battered cock. Sympathetically she laid the limp member en the table. "Ladies and gentlemen," said
Ella, "I drink to the male cock, of which a specimen is on the table In front, of til." Mick's cock hardened, and rote slightly Off the table, Ella immediately pressed it down to the table with her hand, winked at George and the company, and, looking at anyone but Mick, began to work the cock up and down. Everybody liked the joke. Elsie and Anne leant over the table, till their faces were practically touching the cock.
"What a silly thing it is, really," said Elsie. "Just this movement up and down, followed by a bit of liquid. And that's all that history consists of, that's all that makes wars, that's all that there is at the bottom again, for die Lord's sake," said Mrs. Smith.
Mick's young cock on the table, under Ella's skilful rubbing, was reaching its climax. The company, drinking and smoking, watched the process with sophisticated interest. Mrs. Smith opened her mouth a few times to speak, but no words emerged. The spunk from Mick's cock shot out onto the table, stained some of the cardboard mats under the glasses, and a few bits of it landed in one of the ash-trays. The company smiled tolerantly.
"Fell better, Mick?" asked Muriel kindly, as Ella's hand squeezed out the last drops ot spunk onto the table.
"Yes, Madam," said Mick happily. He put the limp cock back in his troers, collected the money �or the drinks and went back to bar.
"Yes" said Ella reflectively, "and that's all our life on earth consists of really. Funny little slits in the flesh, and funny little tubes of flesh, getting swollen up, and subsiding again. That's all there is. And under all the accents, and all the important acts, and all the fuss and the splother, that's all there is."
"The young lady's right in a way," said the old workman. He unbuttoned his trousers, an revealed a very wizened, old, and rather pathetic member. Here you see, ladies and gents, that's caused me a lot of trouble in my lifetime. It's carried me through two world wars, and about a thousand small wars in my own home, and now here it is. It can't even stand up and say. How do you do?... You see what I mean?"
In a natural manner, everybody else now revealed his or her sexual parts. The men placed their cocks on the table. The women dipped their nipples in their drinks, while they pressed their pubic hairs against the table's edge.
"I don't know about all this," said Mrs. Smith, not very convincingly. At �the same time she too, began to unbutton her complicated undergarments.
"It's too much of a strain for us all," said Anne. "Who wants to be civilised?"
"Quite so," said Muriel." "None of, us was civilized birth. Civilization is a bad habit which we've all been forced to acquire."
"Basically," said George, "we are all quite nice animals. But our humen minds corrupt us."
While Mrs. Smith and Mick brough more drinks, the company linked cocks and cunts, and tossed each other off effortlessly. A customer came in, saw what was happening, passed his hand over his forehead, looked again, and then, with a terrified expression, dived off. Everybody laughed. The spunk rolled in a friendly fashion over the table, and the wet cunts of the women moistened the table's edges. The fire flickered in the grate. The clock struck eleven. The men replaced their limp wet cocks, the women drew up their drawers.
"It's nice to have friends," said Anne.
"It's nice to know everything about the people one meets. Cheers to you all."
The others lifted up their glasses, and returned the toast.
"Time, ladies and gentlemen, please!" said Mrs. Smith.
