This racy novel of "straight" and "queer" sex in all its variations was written by Lee Somoso who ran a karate school in New York before embarking on his literary career abroad. "In and Out" was originally published simultaneously in Paris and London. It became a bestseller within a matter of weeks and then was banned in London with Paris following suit shortly afterwards. It has since enjoyed considerable underground success among collectors of modern literary erotica and is published for the first time by Continental Classics.
A good deal of the uninhibited behavior of the story's amoral characters can be better understood in the light of the following from the case histories of the well-known psychoanalyst, Dr. S. Scymanski :
"Sexual intercourse is the most primitive, yet the universally understood language -nature's bridge between individuals. Yes, it may succeed when each partner in the communication speaks out loud to himself as if the other person were not present. (This is the case in sexual arousal by fantasies).
"Freud has described a certain type of man who is impotent, or unable to communicate sexually, with women whom they consider as belonging to the mother or sister group. Such men can achieve their full sexual potency only in intercourse with women whom they consider akin to prostitutes. In my own practice, I frequently see this kind of division in the sex life of some men, particulraly individuals with strong subconscious homosexual tendencies. One such patient could rarely achieve an erection or copulate with his wife, of whom he said she was 'too much of a lady'. What he meant became clearer when he mentioned he had never seen her wholly disrobed. In addition, he said, 'I wish she were more of a whore'.
"It was not too difficult to explain to him that the expression 'too much of a lady' concerned her sex behavior or, rather, brought her akin to his mother and thus made her sexually taboo. The patient's strong homosexual tendencies lessened with continued therapy and he was eventually able to have normal intercourse with his wife."
It is suggested in view of these remarks and the description by the author of "In and Out" of certain abnormal and perverted sex practices, that the reader exercise caution in jumping to conclusions about his own or his friends' behavior. Only a professional analyst can help serious emotional or sexual difficulties.
Continental Classics presents this story unabridged and unexpurgated. This is classified as adult reading matter and is recommended for graduate students and mature adults only.
Herbert Ross, M.A. New York City March, 1968
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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.
Archive Note: In the original pocketbook, there are sections labeled as 'NUMBER I', AND 'NUMBER 3'; however, there is no 'NUMBER 2'.
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NUMBER I.
In which it is related how Monsieur is blackmailed.
In the city of New York, toward the northern end of Courtney Street, one may discover the antique shop of M. Andre Fontaine. An innocent looking establishment is M. Fontaine's,-the window being crowded with porcelains and bronzes, rugs and furniture, ivories and lacquer-work. The interior is roomy and lofty and the walls are completely covered with rugs and tapestries. M. Fontaine knew his business well and numbered in his clientelle the richest of the rich. A bland and polished gentleman was M. Fon taine; he was always smartly groomed and meticulously attired. Of medium height, slim and wiry, he was alive to the tips of his manicured fingers and the ends of his tightly waxed mustache, which he had a habit of twisting when he was well pleased with himself and the world.
Let us repeat that the antique shop was, to ordinary intents an innocent looking place. Yet, if you were admitted to the large room behind the store, one would be not only astonished, but also amused -yes, even pleasurably excited. For there M. Fontaine carried on a business which was, at times, more lucrative than the selling of antiques.
Being a handsome man, well provided by nature for sexual activity, the antique dealer had discovered, early in his career, that he met with great favor in the eyes of women. He had speedily taken advantage of his opportunities, often guiding lady customers to the room behind the shop, and there, on some magnificant and costly divan, had fucked them soundly and to their satisfaction.
In the course of his business he had come into contact with men and women who enjoyed endulging in strange and fantastic sexual experiences. There were men who liked to suck cocks and men who prefered to suck cunts, men who wanted to fuck other men in the arse and men who wanted nothing better in the world than to be fucked in the arse. There were men and women who liked to suck and be sucked at the same time and there were many who were willing, nay, anxious, to go any limit, prefering to carry on their voluptious acts not with one individual alone, but with many at the same time.
Now M. Fontaine, you must understand, was a very tolerant man, whose favorite word was: "Every one to his own tastes." So he quickly conceived the idea of bringing together clients of his so that they might, in the rear room, indulge themselves to satiety in any fashion they pleased. Of course the owner of the shop did not function as a gobetween merely to oblige his patrons, and to be sure the patrons were quite able and willing to reward him handsomely.
As time went on M. Fontaine became rather prosperous and came to the decision that it would be rather well for him to put his rear-room side line on a firm business foundation. So he cleared out the room of surplus stock, which he had been wont to keep there, and hired out of town craftsmen to divide it into small rooms. The completion of the job found eight small rooms built to the ceiling, four on each side, with a corridor between. Each room was accoutred with a splendid couch, a wardrobe, a small table, two chairs, a rug on the floor and a toilet and wash stand curtained off in a corner. The walls were finely decorated and the rooms were illuminated with electric lamps shaded with such hues as pink, sky-blue, violet and orange. Exotic incense was assiduously used, so that the place glowed with a seductive and sybaritic aura. Each room was supplied with pictures, showing the weird fucking proclivity of men and women, and also with books describing all manners of fucking matches, so as to beguile the clients while they were waiting to be introduced to their desired love mates.
The establishment was so arranged that it was not necessary for the patrons to enter by way of the shop. Alongside the store was a hallway leading to the upper part of the building and at the end of this hallway there were two doors. One gave access to the basement while the other led to an antiroom. The latter door would be opened by means of an automatic latch when the visitor pressed a push-button. He would then come in, select a mask from a cabinet, which contained a stock of them, and ring for the attendant. When the latter arrived through another door, which led to the chambers of Paradise and which was always locked, the client, assured by the mask that his identity was secret, would inform the attendant of the particular joys desired. That functionary would then admit the visitor, collecting the fee of twenty dollars, and escort him to a room where he could feast his eyes on the portrayings of forbidden happiness and his mind with the zestful tales to be read in the books. Presently, the proper fucking partner would be ushered in, and the time would be rounded out in one feverish orgy of unleashed delight.
The attendant, who had served M. Fontaine for a long time, was a plump young man by the name of Louis. However, everyone called him, or we should rather say "Her" Lucy, for although she wore trousers, Lucy was very effiminate, being possessed of a girlish face and figure and very ladylike manners. She used powder and rouge, effected an evasive scent, and smoked per turned cigarettes. Her voice was melodious and she was very engaging in her dealings with clients. In fact, she often had sexual dealings with some of them, for Lucy's greatest enjoyment lay in sucking big pricks and being fucked in the arse. A very good joke concerning Lucy went the rounds to the amusement of all who heard it. Another fairy, once angry at something Lucy had done, said petulently:
"Oh, go on! You'd suck a prick a mile long."
"Who wouldn't?" Lucy had asked innocently.
Lucy was well paid by her employer and was permitted to sell cigarettes and liquor to customers as a side line, much to her own profit. And so the establishment of M. Fontaine went merrily on, doing a thriving business, for one client led to another. The proprietor specified certain hours for his patrons, -from two in the afternoon until midnight
He was afraid to keep open after midnight as the street was deserted then and the comings and goings of visitors would attract too much attention.
And now we must go on to another character in our story, -none other than the redoubtable Mr. Walsh, a patrolman on the beat. Walsh had the eight in the evening to four in the morning shift. He "ras the usual sort of policeman, -tall, well proportioned, with a brusque approach, and a stridant penetrating voice. Also, he was more �ks servant and suspicious than the average officer.
Walsh's first suspicions came to birth on one of those warm spring evenings when "a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of cunt." He was loitering at the corner, as policemen have a habit of doing, a half block away from Fontaine's, when a luxurious limousine drew up to the curb. A beautiful woman, charmingly dressed, stepped out, dis missed the chauffeur and started to walk down the street. Walsh drew in his breath with a sibilant sound as he watched the captivating swing of her lovely buttocks.
"Oh man!" he murmured. Wouldn't I like to lay that one! Look at that ass, will you? Paper's too good for it."
He sauntered along behind her, twirling his club, his eyes glued to the graceful and intrigueing curves moving before him. She stopped at the hallway besides Fontaine's, glanced around furtively, and entered. Walsh hastened his steps.
"Wonder what she's doing in that dump?" Walsh asked himself.
As he came abreast of the hallway he peered in. By the light of the lamp he could see her standing by the rear door, her finger pressing the button. He heard the latch click and she disappeared within.
"She's going into the back of the antiquf joint," he deduced. "What kind of attraction is there in there?"
He walked a few steps and looked into Fontaine's well illuminated window. The shop was deserted. Fontaine's closed at six.
"Well, I suppose she was invited to see some rare dew-dad or other. But this is the first time I've noticed that Fontaine uses that rear door for a private entrance. Gee maybe the frog invited her there for a little fucking. Oh well. That's his business."
Walsh tried to dismiss the matter from his mind, but the lovely woman and her splendid swinging hips stuck like a cactus in his memory. He walked along awhile and later returned. He came in time to see a man leave the building.
"Guess he came from upstairs," reflected Walsh. "He looks like a swell, though, so maybe he's been visiting the frog too. He must be having some kind of a private �ale."
Between ten and twelve, the patrolman remarked that quite a few prosperous-appearing men and women came and went, to and from Fontaine's, and yet, not one that arrived came up to the building in a machine.
"Something funny in that," muttered the officer, for he was frankly puzzled. "It can't be a liquor joint. These people get their private stock from their protected night clubs. They don't have to worry about booze." Then suddenly: "I wonder if it's dope! That's worth looking into, even if these birds don't look like junk-heads."
After midnight the place was quiet, and and Walsh pounded his beat, his mind filled with suspicions.
On the following evening the results of the patrolman's observations were the same. He was now more than convinced that something unusual was going on in the rear room of Fontaine's. At about eleven o'clock he entered the hallway and going to the rear, tried the door. It was locked. He then tried the door to the basement and found it open. Stepping down, he closed it, leaving a crack to peer through. No new visitors came, but towards the half-hour people began to leave, one at a time. All bore the stamp of wealth. Walsh decided on a bold move. He came into the open and pushed the button. A half minute passed in silence and then the latch clicked. He went in and found himself alone in a very small room, lighted by a single lamp. All he could see was a small table with a cabinet on it and another door before him. Behind it he could hear faint muffled voices. The cabinet secured his attention, so he pulled open a drawer. He found a few black masks, with adjustable cords such as people wear at masquerade affairs. He opened the other two drawers. More masks. Then he noticed a push-button on the wall. He applied pressure with his thumb and heard a buzzer respond from within. A moment later Lucy appeared, neatly apparelled and simmering with a distinct nimbus of femininity.
On seeing the uniformed officer. Lucy showed unmistakable alarm and slammed the door shut behind her.
"What's going on in there?" demanded Walsh in a sharp voice.
"Why, ah yon see, officer, Mr. Fontaine is giving lectures on antiques in the evenings nowadays to stimulate sales and you know, a great many of the elite are attending."
"I see," said Walsh. "Well, I just wanted to make sure that nothing was wrong."
"Yes, of course, officer," murmured Lucy in a relieved tone.
"That's very nice of you. Thank you very much."
"But what are these masks doing here," asked the policeman pointing to an open draw in the cabinet.
"Oh, I don't know, casually, Mr. Fon taine must have bought them somewhere. He's always buying things he doesn't need."
"Uh, huh. Well, good night."
"Good night, officer."
Out on the sidewalk Walsh growled under his breath. **That damned fairy was lying like hell. I'm going to find out what's doing in that layout. Let's see. I'll give it the once over tomorrow afternoon, while the shop's open and I'm off duty. If these people keep coming in the back way in the afternoon, then I'm positive there's something smelling bad in Copenhagen."
Walsh awoke the following day at noon, very impatient to further investigate the strange comings and goings at the establishment of Mr. Fontaine. He was like a bloodhound on a scent. Suddenly he was struck with the idea of, as he expressed it, "crushing the joint" He acted immediately on the thought by putting on fine linen, donning a civilian business suit of aristocratic black, topping himself off with a black derby. He also added the touch of a silk handkerchief for the breast pocket and a cane for his wrist. He had found it one night on his beat and he carried it a trifle clumsily, for the technique was rather different from that of the club.
It was almost three o'clock when he idled along the opposite side of the street from Fontaine's. He was rewarded within a half hour with the individual appearance of three men and four women, who entered the hallway and made for the rear. The patrolman's last doubt melted away.
"Here goes," he said to himself. "I'll probably make a hash of it, but I can't lose anything."
A few minutes after he pushed the button, the lock clicked and he went into the ante-room. He opened the drawers of the cabinet and noticed that there were more masks than he had seen the previous evening.
"That settles that," he grunted grimly.
'They all wear masks when they go in, so this little boy does the same."
He put on a mask and adjusted it tightly. Then, being a man of little hesitation he pressed the button and heard the buzzer sound above the vague murmur of voices behind the door. He did not have long to wait. Lucy appeared, fresh as a daisy.
"Good afternoon," he saluted Walsh with a broad a.
"Good afternoon," the officer replied in a low disguised voice imitating the broadness of the a.
"You wish a lady or a gentleman?" came the astounding question with ingrating inflexion.
Oho, thought Walsh. It's all coming out now. "A lady," he answered tensely. "In the usual way -or otherwise?" "The usual way."
"Very well, sir. You will pay the usual fee."
Walsh thought fast and took a chance. "Ten dollars, isn't it?"
"Oh, no! You must have forgotten. Twenty dollars."
"Oh you," mumbled the policeman, and he reached for his wallet. He extracted two ten dollar notes, which almost exhausted his cash, and tendered them to Lucy. The latter opened the door with a key, for it had locked automatically behind her, and inclined her head for Walsh to follow. They entered the room of mystery. The policeman was a bit bewildered by the soft lights and the penetrating perfume. Lucy led him to a vacant room and promised to return soon with a lady.
"Twenty dollars," thought Walsh. "And he gets that from every bird that comes in, eh? A good business I call it A fucking good business." And he chuckled at his own witticism.
His eyes became engrossed with the pictures on the walls. He had often seen such pictures, but none as good as these. One particularly captured his attention. It showed a man sucking a woman's cunt while another man fucked him in the anus. The policeman's peter soon began to rise and his tongue became thick in his mouth. When he had exhausted the pictures he listened with amusement to the sounds made by the revelers in the other rooms. Then he started all over on the pictures noticing little things he hadn't seen before. The delightfulness of firm round flesh inflamed his desires so that he was unconscious of the passage of time. He was brought to his senses by the entrance of a masked woman, beautifully dressed, and exquisitely formed. She set the automatic lock as she closed the door and turned to Walsh with a dazzling smile, her perfect teeth glistening in a carmine setting and her eyes sparkling through her mask.
"How do you do?" she greeted him with composure.
Walsh's heart began to pound and he found speech difficult Licking his lips he managed to get out a whisper:
"All right. And how are you?"
She came to him, still smiling, and held out her arms for an embrace. Walsh reached mechanically. He crushed her to him, but with a throaty laugh she bent backward, drawing him with her. She finally surrendered and responded to his burning kisses.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, huskily.
"How original you are," she laughed. "Will you help me out of my clothes?"
The officer assisted her with trembling fingers, feeling all parts of her warm and pulsating body, -her breasts, her waist and buttocks, her perfectly rhymed thighs and he finally got his hand on the cherished slit between her legs. He smoothed aside the downy herbage around her vulva and inserted his finger. Withdrawing it a little moist, he brought it to his eager nostrils and sniffed, the while she laughed intoxicatingly at his antics. She was now naked and wanted to help him off with lightening speed. Then they sat down on the couch and he played with her cunt while she toyed with his penis.
"Stalwart as a soldier, ready for battle, isn't he?" she murmured languidly. "How ambitious he is. I'm beginning to feel good now, so let's do it. Are you ready?"
She stretched out on the couch, lifted her lovely legs up and apart and Walsh spread a towel and a pillow under her plump buttocks. Then he mounted to perform his duty. With her help he eased his rigid member into her vagina, which was warm and moist and she twined her limbs tightly about his. Resting firmly on his knees, he placed one hand under her, while with the other he explored all of her jewels that he was able to. She on her part, reached her arms around him and gripped the cheeks of his arse with both hands.
And gently they moved their buttocks together and apart, drawing away from each other only for the purpose of coming together again. They were well-matched, for the fit was not too tight and yet not too loose, and at every stroke he plunged his sword as far as it would go into it's scabbard. And his bollicks began to drum a tattoo against her buttocks. She sighed, entranced, and murmured endearments to him.
"You're wonderful, wonderful."
"And you're all right, too," he replied, being now perfectly at home, and feeling altogether the dominant male.
Faster, faster, they went. The ancient and hallowed rhythm of love. More and more excited they became. Now they were both perspiring and breathing hard, their flesh was on fire; all the world was forgotten; only the moment of passion mattered. But all things come to an end. Walsh was the first to come. He announced it to her beforehand, regretfully.
"I'll be with you in a minute," she told him in a trembling breath. "Ah! Ah! Faster! Faster! Hold me tighter. I'm coming! Ah!"
She melted away before his prick grew soft and they rested in each others arms at peace with all things and completely contented. They had fulfilled themselves, had justified their existence with the universe. A minute thus, and at her unexpressed desire, which he divined instinctively, they separated and washed their parts, chatting gaily the while.
"I feel like a stimulant," she said. Shall we ring for some cognac and cigarettes?" "Sure, of course."
She rang and Lucy came promptly. Walsh opened the door a bit and communicated their needs to her. And doing so he made an error. He forgot to disguise his voice and the attendant immediately recog nized him, for she was extremely sensitive to sounds. However, she brought the cognac and cigarettes on a tray which she handed in through the partly opened door.
"I'll pay you afterwoods," said Walsh.
Lucy was in a panic. She speedily acquainted her employer, who was in the shop, with the condition of affairs.
"We'll all go to jail now," she lamented with a sob in her throat
"You must keep calm," advised M. Fontaine gently. "Everything will be all right I assure you. I have foreseen this for some time. I knew something like it would happen sooner or later. Of course I shall have to pa] blackmail to him. But I wonder how much. Or rather how little."
"Oh, what shall I do?" asked Lucy mournfully.
"You must attend to your duties and let me do the worrying," said M. Fontaine. "You must not forget that most of our patrons are rich and influential. Such people do not go to jail. Everything will be all right, so go back now."
Lucy returned to her menage but could not regain her customary confidence.
Meanwhile, the masked lady was sitting in Walsh's lap, his cock between her legs. They had tossed off their cognac and were smoking cigarettes and conversing. The policeman drew the conversation into a dangerous channel.
"Do you do it any other fashion?" he asked with a nervous catch in his throat. His lips seemed suddenly to have gone dry, for he licked them two or three times.
"I? Oh no!" she answered, her underlip curling in scorn. "If you wanted someone to do it in ways different than the natural you should have told the attendant."
"Aw! Don't get mad!" pleaded Walsh. "I didn't mean anything. I was just asking, that's all, just curious."
Her jolly feelings were soon restored and they discarded their cigarettes. Then they began Jo play with each other. He rubbed her slit while she prankishly tipped his rosy cock gently so that it swung from side to side. They kissed and bit each other lightly, thus developing their reviving passion. He also took a great delight in sucking the nipples of her breasts, firm and curved like young canteloups. What voluptious pleasures were theirs, -the proximity of flesh to flesh, the mingling of two desires into one and the anticipation of the coming action. Soon they were ready, for they were both young. Ah, youth -youth is always ready! And so again they travelled the road to Paradise, riding the fiery steeds of love. And again they mounted higher and higher up the steps o_ heaven until they reached the throne, the brilliant blazing goal of all lovers, -past, present, and those as yet unborn. After their climax they rested quite a while, his prick still in her vagina, both veiled in a haze of langour. Presently they arose, and with a great calm upon them, they washed and dressed. Walsh attired himself very quickly, and kissing her mischievously on the arse, made ready to leave.
"Au revoir then," she said. "Perhaps we shall meet here again. I hope so, because you carry such a fine standard with you. I generally come in the afternoon, about two or three times a week. You will not forget?"
"No, I won't forget," he promised her, but let me see your face, won't you?" and he made a move to take off her mask.
"Don't do that," she cried angrily, seizing his extended hands.
"Oh, all right!" he said soothing, "I was only fooling. Good-by!" "Good-by!" coldly.
Feeling a little foolish, Walsh let himself out and found himself in the corridor, confronted by Lucy, who was somewhat agitated.
"Well, if it isn't little Percival!" the officer remarked banteringly.
"I am known as "Lucy," was the retreat.
"Lucy! Well, well, and how's Lucy today?" raising his voice to a high pitch.
"Very well, sir," sulkily. "And if you are leaving now I hope you will not forget that you owe me for the liquor and cigarettes."
"Forget about it," declared Walsh in his ordinary work-a-day voice. "You're lucky I don't pinch you. Right now I want to see your boss. Lead me to him."
"Very well," assented Lucy sullenly. "But you must take off the mask."
The officer did so and he was taken into the shop and into the presence of M. Fontaine. That gentleman gestured to Lucy to return to her charges, and, as the latter disappeared, he turned to Walsh with an affable smile. He was the very essence of calmness.
"I hope you've enjoyed yourself this afternoon, officer," he ventured.
Walsh, for some reason had lost a considerable modicum of his confidence. His words and his manner indicated nervousness. He licked his lips repeatedly. M. Fontaine noticed this at once and twisted his mustache with satisfaction, though he was at a loss to account for it He was subsequently enlightened.
"Y' know, Mr. Fontaine, -I, Oh, I ain't got any bad feeling against you for running a place like that" he jerked his thumb toward the rear room. "That's your business, and of course anybody who fools with these rich people is going to get into hot water himself. But-"
"Ah!" thought the antique dealer. "I shall not have to pay him very much. That is plain."
Then aloud:
"You paid the attendant twenty dollars, did you not, officer?" "Yeh, I did."
"I presume you would like it back?"
"Yeh! Sure I would."
M. Fontaine drew a roll from his pocket, peeled off a twenty and gave it to Walsh, at which it vanished speedily.
"Thanks, Mr. Fontaine. You know I'll keep mum about your place, but, I, ah -"
"You?" smilingly.
"Well, it's this way!" the policeman blurted out. Then his voice dropped to a whisper as he moved very close to the proprietor. "Y' see, I like to suck women's cunts now and then, but I don't often get much chance. I've been wondering if you'd let me come sometimes for nothing. I can't afford to throw out twenty bucks. And I'll keep shut up like a clam."
An illuminated smile broke out on the face of M. Fontaine's face.
"Oho! So that's it, my friend! But you needn't have been ashamed of it. I sympathise most heartily with you. You know, my friend," confidentially, "that I, too, often drink from the fountain of joy. Ah, most certainly, officer! Come whenever you like and just tell Lucy what you want."
Walsh wiped the perspiration from his forehead, looked at his watch, and decided that he must go. He was escorted to the front door and bade the antique dealer adieu.
"We are good friends then, are we not?" asked M. Fontaine, suavely.
"Yeh, sure."
"And you may come whenever you like and it will cost you not a penny."
"Thanks! Say! -how about right now?"
"Surely, if you wish it."
They went back to the rear room and consulted the attendant
"Try room seven," suggested that func tionary, "but I'm not certain."
M. Fontaine returned to the store, and Walsh, remasked, started towards room seven. Lucy walked at his side and suddenly placed his hand on the officer's trousers and felt his tool.
"Oh, what a big one! Wouldn't you rather have me? I'm two-way, you know."
"No thanks. That's out of my line."
In number seven Walsh found a very aristocratic appearing lady of middle-age.
"Hello," he began nervously.
"Good evening! I've been waiting quite a while for someone."
She scrutinized him carefully through her mask and smiled. Walsh wetted his lips with his tongue.
"The attendant, ah, told me you like to do it, ah, different ways."
"Which way do you wish to do it?"
"I like to suck it," he answered, his face turning redder than it usually was.
"I'm agreeable," she said, "but not completely."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you can suck it half way," she explained in a strained tone, "and then finish up in the ordinary fashion. Fd like that better."
"All right! -I'm willing."
They undressed hastily, Walsh all the time feeling ill at ease. His heart played him queer tricks, the blood rushed in his ears and his whole body was possessed by the trembles.
She stretched out on the couch and spread her legs, lifting the knees. Her skin was like alabaster and unblemished, yet Walsh wished that she were plumper and younger. But that left his mind as he gazed centeredly at her foliage protected nest. He got up on the couch, his cock hard and throbbing, and resting on his knees, made ready to drive into the source of all masculine joy.
"Not yet," she protested, "you poor boy. How like an amateur you go at it Aren't you ashamed of yourself. Come here to me."
Feeling instinctively that, in matters of love the women should be boss, he obeyed her and got off the couch, though there was a great wonder in his mind. She made him sit beside her.
"Well'. Why don't you warm me up?" she asked, laughing at him. "Must I give you lessons?"
"You're having a lot of fun kidding me, aren't you?" he grinned sheepishly. "But I aint such a slouch. And I'll prove it, too."
He bent down and took the nipple of one of her breasts in his mouth and began to suck it. At once she took his prick in her hand and stroked it downward until she reached spermtank underneath. She played with that and talked gently to him.
"You ought to know," she instructed him, "that a woman always likes to be played with before she gets into action."
He let go of her nipples.
"I think you're a very nice girl," he advanced. "I wonder if you'll let me kiss you?"
"Try it and see," was her answer.
His lips saught hers and, as her arms linked around his neck, they met in a long warm kiss. She sighed as their lips parted and they kissed again and again.
"You know how to kiss," she admitted as his lips travelled downward and he fiercely lipped her throat and breasts and slightlycurved abdomen, below the entrancing dimple of her navel.
"I'm ready for your attention lower down," she said, "but remember, when I tell you to stop, I want you to finish up with your rod. Such a handsome one you have, too."
"I'll remember, honey," he assured her. "And when I get through you won't be sorry you took me on." He assumed again the position he had had at first, and in a moment his mouth was tightly pressed against her vulva, and he worked his tongue in and out, exciting her clitoris at every stroke. She clipped her thighs around his head and the feel of the warm flesh spurred his desire and made his fiery member strike against his belly. The taste of her cunt set him in a fever and his nostrils drank in greedily the odor of her organs mingled with the heady perfume she used. Her loving words goaded him into a frenzy. Sucking and mouthing madly, he had only enough control left to keep from biting, a procedure he really would have liked to follow. Suddenly she cried passionately:
"Enough! Enough! Now mount me."
He was not slow in obeying.
"Oh! You dear!" she breathed as his cock drove into her burning cunt. "Oh! you sweet one! How good you are. I'll take it all back; there's nothing amateurish about you. Push harder! Faster! Deeper! As deep as you can. Oh, you wonderful man."
Her legs were closed tightly around his hams and she clasped him so wildly around the back that it seemed as though she were afraid he would try to break away. And he rode his maddened charger in and out as hard as he could, while her buttocks heaved and tossed and rolled like waves in a tempest.
Soon she had her orgasm and lost all control of herself and bounced up and down, while she sighed and groaned, her breath coming in rasps. In a few minutes she was quiet, but he, like a raging bull, rammed his tool in and out of her flooded vagina. Suddenly he stopped, for her buttocks were quiet.
"I haven't come yet," he panted. "Aren't you going to help me out?"
"Yes, my dear," she sighed languidly, "but you must be gentle with me now."
Very slowly they began moving together and apart in perfect harmony. Walsh received keen enjoyment from this method, but he felt as though he would never come. His desire was to drive furiously, but he wanted to please her. So they carried on thus for a while and she soon became hot again. They began to kiss repeatedly and increased the tempo of their orgy. Faster and faster they moved, faster and faster. She was again as before -a prisoner in the grip of a ferocious passion. She soon came to her second climax and his cock began to swim in a boiling sea.
"I'm going to come pretty soon," he cried enthusiastically. "I feel it. Work with me a little longer, sweetheart."
"All right, you wonderful lover. Come Come! Oh, please come." She slapped his back and ass in a frenzy of delight and she made her cunt and legs as tight as possible. His tool worked with the speed and regularity of a piston, and at last the longed for Streamof-Eros came, jetting into her womb like liquid fire. They clasped each other tempestuously and kissed as the throbbing of his penis ebbed away. They lay a little while in a daze and then parted.
"Oh, but you were splendid," she breathed hoarsely.
"I made you come twice, didn't I," he chuckled. "And you kidded me about not knowing my business."
"I was merely chaffing," she laughed.
He got up and looked in the wardrobe. He found his watch. "Gee! It's almost six o'clock. I've got to go."
"Oh, surely not," she cried. "I must have you once more. Don't go yet, please.'*
"But gee," he remonstrated, "I had two pieces before I came to see you. It would take too long to have another piece."
"I'll suck it for you," she suggested.
The idea intrigued him.
"All right -but we'll have to work fast. I've got a lot to do between now and eight."
They washed their privates and she bade him lie on his back. Then she sat beside him, and bending down, took his limp cock in her mouth and gave it a tongue massage. He stared, facinated at the spectacle of his tool between her lovely red lips and she was so dainty about it as though it were the accepted thing to do. Slowly but surely his member began to rise, and to stiffen it further, she moved up and down on it, using her lips as a vulva. At times he could feel the head of it in her throat. During all this he was fingering her cunt very vigorously.
Finally he gave her to know that he was ready for action. She withdrew her lips regretfully and he got up while she assumed her proper position. They fucked again, and a pleasurable bout it was, lasting many minutes, both coming almost at once. They washed, and with arrangements to meet again and endearing kisses, he got his clothes on and left.
He was in a great hurry, so he hired a taxi, and as he rested, very tired, in his seat, he became cognizant of the fact that he had lost his walking stick. Had he forgotten it in the first woman's room or in the second? Or in the store when he had spoken to Fontaine? He could not remember.
"That's the way it is when a fellow has his mind on fucking," he thought, grinning. "He's liable to forget his head. Well, to hell with the cane. It didn't cost me anything anyhow."
And so, dear reader, Patrolman Walsh came to the establishment of M. Fontaine whenever he was in the need and sucked cunts to his heart's content. At first Lucy took revenge on him by pairing him up with the old and middle-aged women and the fat and sloppy ones, but Walsh finally got into the good graces of the fairy. How did he do it? Why, he permitted Lucy to suck his cock oc cassionally. And, in this way, they became quite intimate.
I.
It was two months since patrolman Walsh had discovered the existence of the establishment of M. Fontaine. His visits to the establishment had a fine effect on him, it made him very congenial and more tolerant towards his fellow beings. "God's in his heaven, alls right with the world," truly covered his attitude toward life. A little incident may illustrate Walsh's growing tolerance.
One delightful evening in June, he was strolling at the end of his beat, opposite a small park. A gentleman came striding across toward the officer, holding up his hand to attract attention. As he drew close he cried:
"Officer -I want you to arrest that man!" pointing to someone on the edge of the park. Walsh was all alertness. He gestured to the man to come over, reaching for his whistle with the other hand and asked abruptly:
"What for?"
"He wanted to suck my cock," explained the indignant man. Walsh relaxed.
"Well, you don't want to get excited over such a little thing. Love and let love."
A few evenings later the patrolman was gossiping with another officer at the boundary of their beats.
"That car over there," said Brennan, the other cop, pointing to a fine roadster nearby, "belongs to Colton."
"Leslie Colton -the politician?"
"Yeh! Ever see him?"
"No, but I've seen his picture a lot of times."
"Great guy, Colton. Worth a lot of money."
"Married a rich dame, didn't he?"
"Yeh, but he had jack before that. Wonder why he got married at all?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Oh, you've never heard about it then?" laughed Brennan. "Well, you see, Colton goes after the boys. Likes to fuck them in the behind."
Walsh snickered.
"No, I never heard about that."
"Yeh! Colton uses a couple of lads in his office, but he keeps firing them and hiring new ones all the time. Has a hard time getting youngsters that'll back up to him."
"Well, if he likes to cornhole them, that's his business," declared Walsh.
And Brennan agreed with him, for Colton was a power in the city administration.
II.
Late in August, Mrs. Colton, the wife of the politician, returned to her Long Island home from a summer in Maine. And she came back in a very nervous and irritable condition. While she did not appear to be nervous, one might notice that she was lost in reverie, for her eyes would cloud with a far-away look. The explanation is very simple.
During her stay in Maine, Mrs. Colton had made the acquaintance of a woman who had aroused her sexuality. She had intercourse a number of times with this woman, the first connection she had had with her own sex since her boarding school days. And now, she was so stirred up that she knew for certain that never again would a prick satisfy her. Of course, on her return, she surrendered her cunt to the ministrations of her husband's cock, but she did not respond to him with a fervor that might be expected after a long absence. Yet, he did not seem to mind much, and she concluded that his peter had not been in cold-storage while she was away. But she was not jealous. What she was after was a female companion. And this was a difficult matter, for she did not have the nerve to make overtures. All her intimacies with her own sex, while a girl, and the incident in the North, had been started by the other party. Now, her fancy was centered on her maid, but she could not pluck up the courage to make the girl a proposition. And so, within her, there burned constantly the consuming flame of a forbidden passion.
One afternoon, a few days after her return, she dropped into Fontaine's antique shop to look at a few things she was contemplating buying. She was examining an Indian rug and M. Fontaine was hovering close to her, expanding in modulated tones, on the virtues of the article. A finely-formed woman entered and was waited on by M. Fontaine's store assistant, -a fairy called Raymond. Mrs. Colton quickly forgot the rug as her eyes dwelt upon the splendid waist and seductive buttocks of the newcomer. M. Fontaine's eyes were not idle and he noted the excitement in the face of his customer, and her rapidly increasing respiration.
"The possibility of fresh business for my establishment," he thought, and studied her keenly.
She stroked the rug with her hand, while her eyes and mind were occupied with the other woman. Mentally she stripped the lady of her clothes. Ah! What an ass! What a pleasure it would be to press one's cheek against her hip, to bury one's face between the cheeks, to kiss, to suck, to bite; to mouth the hair encircled cunt, to feel the plump warm legs around one's neck. Such were her thoughts and M. Fontaine read her thoughts like a first reader.
"She has a splendid figure, has she not?" he insinuated in a low voice, so only she could hear.
Mrs. Colton looked at him with sudden surprise and wetted her lips with her tongue. She made as if to answer but could not find any words.
"Yes, a very fine figure," M. Fontaine repeated gently. "Many a man, I'll warrant, has eaten his heart out with vain hopes in that direction. And of course, madame, between sophisticated people, such as we are, it might be added that many a woman, also has burned with desire for her."
Mrs. Colton flushed with shame.
"What do you mean?" she whispered hoarsely.
"Ah, Madame," he murmured softly. Do not excite yourself. I shall explain what I. mean. You know that all people have not the same desires. My assistant over iuv.� is a good example, he enjoys connecti'srjB Only with men."
"What has all this to do with rr#?" sbs demanded.
M. Fontaine smiled ingratiatingly.
"If Madame wishes it, I may be able to make arrangements for her to become intimately acquainted with that lady."
Mrs. Colton was speechless. Was he speaking the truth? Was it possible that she might be able to feast herself on that exquisite body? What a dolt she was!-Why didn't she answer him?
"Yes," she whispered, as she lowered her eyes, and drops of dew appeared at the roots of her hair.
"I am sorry, Madame, but I am not certain about that particular lady. However, I can bring you into contact with other ladies, many of them more beautiful than she. Are you willing?"
Mrs. Colton looked sharply at him. What sort of game was he playing with her? Seeing the doubt in her features, Fontaine spoke decisively:
"If you are willing, Madame, I can, for a small fee, introduce you to a lady who may be ready to do anything with you. You can be with her in a few minutes, yes?"
Mrs. Colton capitulated. She nodded, and in a few words, the antique dealer gave her instructions, and guided her to the front door, twisting his mustache end with a cryptic smile.
III.
Mrs. Colton left the store and got into, her coach. Instructing her chauffeur to drive to the park, she settled back with a sigh. When the car reached its destination, she found it to be three o'clock by her wrist watch, and she ordered her man to wait there for her. Then she walked back to Fontaine's and entered the hallway just next to the store. At the rear of the hallway she found a door, the lock of which opened automatically a few minutes after she pressed a button. She stepped into a small cube of a room, and found, on a table, a cabinet full of black masks. She put one on and pushed another button. A second door, leading to the space behind the antique shop opened quickly and Lucy, the cock-sucker attendant, came in, smiling in an inviting fashion. Mrs. Colton felt very bold, for the mask hid her identity. She had ceased to be Myra Colton, the wife of Leslie Colton; she was now merely a woman; any woman; woman in the abstract in search of pleasure.
"Good afternoon," Lucy greeted her "Your requirements are? -"
Mrs. Colton felt a dislike to the fairy.
"He probably sucks cocks," she thought. "Imagine sucking a cock, ugh! Now, a cunt -that's different."
"I want a woman," she replied to Lucy's question. "As young as possible."
"Very well! The fee is twenty dollars."
The fee was paid and Lucy said:
"You are in luck, Madame. We have a lady who has been waiting for someone more than fifteen minutes. She is becoming restless and I thought I'd have to return her money because no one came."
Mrs. Colton was guided past the door and ushered into a small chamber, the door of which closed behind her. A masked lady, sitting at the other end of the room put down a book she had been reading and looked up.
"I am so glad you came, my dear," she said softly. "I amused myself with this book while waiting. It is a very enjoyable story about a peculiar fucking-match, but a story's a story. I want the real thing."
Mrs. Colton's boldness left her. She was tongue-tied for a moment, then she said:
"Then I'm glad I came."
The other woman rose. She was very graceful, with voluptious breasts and hips. She was much better built than Mrs. Colton, who was so plump that she inclined to stoutness. The latter devoured the other's form as they examined each other in silence, and she could see the blue eyes burning behind the mask.
"You have been here before?" the other asked.
"No, my dear," answered Mrs. Colton. "This is my first time."
"I've been here four times. This makes the fifth. What shall I call you?"
"Call me Venus," said Mrs. Colton with a nervous laugh.
"All right, Venus. Then call me Diania. Diania the huntress. I'm going to hunt for your cunt right now."
And she did. She lifted Venus's gown and explored between her legs. Beneath thin silk she felt the warm slit. Venus embraced her arms and Diania let the gown fall and embraced her in return. Both were in a fever of excitement.
"You are going to give me a lover's kiss, aren't you?" Diania coaxed sweetly. " A real lover's kiss. Not just a light peck."
Venus smiled and their mouth's met each other. They kissed with fiery passion, their lips resounding with a resounding smack.
"That's wonderful," breathed Venus ecstatically.
"Then let's have another one," panted Diania, patting her on the buttocks. "Oh, what a plump ass you have! I can see right now we're going to have a fine time together."
They kissed again fiercely, their teeth meeting, and then they sucked tongues.
"Let's undress now," whispered Venus trembling with desire.
They undressed, looking avidly at each other, their hearts pounding with anticipation. Naked, they embraced, and kissed and felt each other all over. Their bodies burned at the touch of living flesh and they were intoxicated with the odor of femininity.
"How'll we do it?" Venus murmured, her boldness returning. "Shall we suck each other at the same time?"
"Sixty-nine?" asked Diania. "No, that's too good for a beginning. We'll leave that to the last. Have you ever done it by bumping cunts together?"
"No, how do you do that?"
"I'll show you. Wait You lie down on your back. Like that. That's right. Now lift this leg so I can get under you. So. Now move down a bit. That's fine."
And there they lay on the couch, Venus on her back and Diania on her side, one leg under Venus and one leg on her. They were like two pairs of scissors with the crutches touching, and they squeezed and rubbed and bumped their cunts together, which excited them greatly, and sucked the hollows behind each other's knees, for the knees on each side reached as far as the heads. The friction of their vulvas and clitorises lifted them to steep and dizzy heights of enjoyment, and with sighs and loving phrases they coaxed each other on to fiercer and fiercer thrusts. They carried on this glorious battle for a considerable time and Venus was the first to come, the mad squirts of her fountain giving her excrutiating delight. She told Diania that she had come, but kept on working against her lover, urging her to bring her passion to fruition.
She had reached her orgasm and the mouths of their cunts were wet. Artfully, they extricated themselves from the position that had given them so much joy, and sat up, gazing breathlessly at each other.
"Don't let the juice run out," commanded Diania. "We'll keep it till we're worked up again and then we'll eat it."
"All right," Venus agreed.
They lay down close together on their sides, facing each other and ran their hands wantonly up, and down each other's pink bodies, feeling thighs and buttocks to their greatest content. Soon they began to warm up again and took to kissing and sucking tongues. When they grew sufficiently hot, Diania got off the couch and Venus spread her legs apart to give her partner access to her juice-filled cunt. Diania lowered her head between Venus's legs, pressed her anxious lips to the moist vulva and began to suck vigorously. Venus clasped her thighs about her lover's neck and did not loosen her hold until she had been sucked dry.
"Don't swallow it," she cautioned Diania, "we can play with it with our mouths afterwards."
Diania nodded assent, and as Venus rose, she took the latters place. It was now Venus's turn. She dived passionately into the salty sea and groaned with pleasure as she felt Diania's legs pressing her cheeks. When she had had her fill, they sat beside each other on the couch and placing their mouths together, swapped the juice between them. On growing tired from this exertion, each took half of the warm spicy liquid and swallowed it. Then they reclined on their sides and rested for a minute, toying with each other's breasts and sucking them. Finally Diania murmured:
"I'd like to suck you off now."
"All right," agreed her lover, laughing lightly. "The gates to Paradise are now open."
She spread her legs and Diania made ready to carry out her desire. She smoothed aside the hairs around the red slit and applied her mouth. Tightly the thighs closed around her neck, and with great passion she sucked and sucked, while Venus spoke gently and lovingly to her in complete abondonment. Diania was drunk with her lasciviousness and found the taste of the luscious cunt very ap petizing. Her tongue grew tired out from running in and out of the vulva weapon, much to her companion's delight. It took a long time for Venus to have her climax, and when she did, her lover swallowed the boiling liquor, greedily sucking for more, but alas, the cunt was soon dry.
Diania rose excitedly and cried:
"Now suck mine, I'm burning up!"
"Not yet," Venus soothed her, for a great lassitude had come over her. "Wait a minute while I rest."
Diania lay down alongside her partner and stroked and felt all parts of her body in order to excite her. A few minutes passed pleasantly thus and Venus smiled.
"All right. I'm ready now."
She rose to her feet, while Diania parted her rosy legs, ready for the mouth of her lover. She was sucked very lightly at first, but after a while Venus regained her passion and tongued and mouthed with excessive zest. It did not take Diania long to come off, for she had been all worked up through sucking Venus. After the latter had swallowed the burning lava, they lay down on their backs and rested, chatting all the time of various things. After a time, their hands roved and strayed to each others cunts and they began, although very slowly, to warm up again.
"We'll make it the third lap now," said Venus, and they laughed at her pun. "Sixtynine, the best game of all!"
They prepared themselves for the ensuing encounter. Lying on their sides in reverse position, they got their heads between each others thighs. Both were willing prisoners between the glorious palisades of rose-tinted# ivory. They soon became hot and sucked and mouthed greedily. Their noses were pressed against each other's ass-holes, but the faint odor did not repel them. Instead, they breathed deeply of it and with enjoyment.
Venus, in fact, began wondering how it would taste. Such are the ways of passion.
The delicious game lasted a long time and they panted like engines from their exertions. A sea of flames swept over their bodies and flashes of joy travelled along their nerves like electric shocks.
They sighed and groaned in a seething agony of exaltation, living for a moment in a world of their own, where all was dazzling light and scorching fire. At length, Venus shot her load, which Diania gobbled gluttonously, so exciting herself that she too, came soon. They parted and sat up, staring wildly at each other, with faces flushed, masks awry and hair disordered. Then they relaxed and were overcome by a pleasant lassitude.
"You were splendid, dear," sighed Venus, "but I'm all in."
"So am I," confessed Diania. "But you gave me the time of my life. By the way, what time is it?"
Venus reached for her wrist-watch, which was on the table.
"A quarter after five," she replied.
"My heavens!-that late? I must be going."
She jumped up, and going to the wash stand curtained off in a corner, washed herself hurriedly and gargled her mouth and throat. Venus sat in a daze on the edge of the couch and watched her companion dress and arrange her hair.
"Do I look all right?" anxiously.
"Yes, you're all right," answered Venus. "When can I see you again?"
"Oh, my dear! -I'll come tomorrow before three, so if you come at that time, I'll be waiting for you. We can have the same room. I'll tell Lucy to reserve it for us. That's all right?"
"Yes, certainly."
They kissed lightly and Diania left. Alone now, Mrs. Colton sank back on the couch, naked as she was, and stretched her arms and legs lazily and luxuriously. What a time she had had -what a glorious time! And tomorrow would see a repetition of their passion quelling saturnalia. She sighed with satisfaction. It was so quiet now and she was so warm. The warm sounds from the other rooms seemed so far away. The soft-colored lights bathed her body gently. The perfume affected by her companion still pervaded the air and Mrs. Colton inhaled deeply of the tenuous fragrance; the room too, it seemed, wished to retain a memory of the lustful woman. Ah, what a love-partner! Tomorrow, tomorrow, and after that? Other women! Why not? Oh, it would be wonderful. No more worrying about getting a lover. And all in secrecy. Ah, that Mr. Fontaine, -what a clever man he was.
She lay quite a while, half in a trance, lasciviously sucking a few stray cunt-hairs that still lingered in her mouth, and running her tongue around the edge of her lips she licked the dried cunt-liquor that remained. She was aroused from her roseate reverie by a discreet tap at the door.
"Yes," she said startled.
"Oh, you are still there?" It was the attendant.
"No hurry, you know, take your time."
Suddenly, galvanized into action, she leaped to her feet, washed her privates and face vigorously, rinsed her mouth a few times and began to dress. She took keen pleasure in putting on her clothes, for she felt now that she had something worth while to deck out; she had a strange consciousness that her body was of some purpose in the world. Age, a splendid purpose! Taking off her mask to arrange her hair before the little mirror, she became aware that she had never looked as pretty as now. She was almost beautiful. She looked like the blooming bride she had been on her wedding-day, six years before.
Well! -and was she not a bride now? She smiled as she admired herself.
Her toilette complete, she slipped on the mask and, within the minute, she was out on the sidewalk. It was evening, warm and fragrant, and the outlines of the buildings were tinged with delicate carmine from the declining sun. The moon was luminous and a few stars shimmered. She felt as though she had stepped into a new world, strange and romantic; never had it seemed so beautiful.
And robed in her glowing and glamorous thoughts, she idled her way towards the park. Her chauffeur was dozing comfortably and as she regarded him in silence she murmured mentally:
"You poor fellow! What are you good for, anyway. You have only a prick.*'
IV.
Mr. Leslie Colton came home that night at eleven o'clock to find his wife dreaming at the piano, her fingers instinctively working out intricate minor melodies, delicate and haunting. A single darting glance at her and he was carried back to the day of their first meeting. How ravishingly lovely she suddenly appeared! -so womanly, so sexy. He saluted her with a fervent kiss, which greatly surprised her, but which she did not echo. He was so entranced by the miracle of her beauty that he decided that he would have a fucking tournament with her that night. But it takes two to make a fucking match; one only produces a jack-off party.
"You are so beautiful tonight," he cooed, as his arm stole about her waist. "What do you say we go to bed together?" His hand moved down to her soft and enticing buttocks.
She slid away from him along the bench, visably annoyed, and began to bang a jazzy air, filled with the clang and clatter of unemotional machinery.
"What's the matter, Dearie?" he asked. "Sick?"
"I'm not feeling well tonight. Please don't bother me. I'll sleep alone."
He felt as though he were a stranger to her, so careless and indifferent was her voice. Shrugging his shoulders, he thought:
"Women are funny. I never can make them out." Aloud he remarked, "You look all right, sweetheart. Never saw you better."
"I'm not at all well," she said coldly. "Please let me alone." And the pounding on the instrument reflected her irritation.
"Well, if you want me, I'll be in my room," he murmured insinuatingly. "All you have to do is call."
"Let me alone, will you!" she cried. She felt herself beginning to hate him.
"Oh, all right," he growled in an injured tone. "You don't have to get all huffed up over it. I'm your husband, ain't I?" As he left the room she glared at the portiers through which he had passed.
Later safe in bed with her door locked, she lay anticipating the next day's program. Her satisfying thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock on the panel.
"Myra!" in a husky voice.
She did not answer.
"Honey! are you awake?"
Again, no answer.
"All right then," he snarled, losing his temper through frustrated desire. As he moved away from her room he muttered: "Hell's bells. I'll bet she heard something about me running after the boys. That must be tt."
Alone in his room, he swore savagely.
"Damn that cheating punk!"
He was thinking of a handsome twentyyear-old Bowery lad he had picked up the day before. He had bought the boy clothes and meals and the shrewd youngster had sneeringly refused his affections.
"What a sap I was," he thought, "I should have fucked him first and fed him on promises. He certainly made a sucker out of me."
Meanwhile, he was sitting in his dressing gown with a painful hard-on. What to do? What to do? He thought of his wife's maid, Sadie. He got up, determined to make her. Then he would be able to laugh at his indifferent spouse.
Sadie, the maid, and Rosie, the cook, each had a room, opposite each other, in a secluded wing of the house. Colton got there noiselessly and tapped noiselessly at the maid's door.
"Who's there," sharply.
"Sadie! -The Mrs. is sick."
In a moment the key turned in the lock and the door opened a little. Sadie, dishevelled and in a wrapper, peeped out.
"What's the matter?"
He put his leg inside the door and forced it wider. "Don't be afraid, Sadie. I won't hurt you. Look what I got for you. He pulled out his cock, a good seven inches, standing straight up, as stiff as a pick-handle. She stared at it as if hypnotized.
"Oh, Mr. Colton. Don't. Please go away. I'll scream."
She tried to push him out of the room, while he tried to seize her around the waist. She was fierce in her fear that she succeeded in shoving him into the corridor. There, he was surprised to find the stout cook standing outside her door. Rose eyed his proud and generous member with undisguised admiration and said breathlessly:
"You can come into my room, Mr. Colton."
Sadie had not slammed shut her door. As Colton was about to enter the cook's room, the maid said jealously:
"All right, Mr. Colton, you can come in. I'm not afraid."
Colton looked from one to the other, then at his sturdy prick, and laughed.
"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do," he decided. "I'll take Sadie on first, and then you, Rose. Don't be jealous, Rose!-you'll get the best of it. The second time takes longer."
An hour or so later Colton was back in his room, smirking with vanity at two jobs well done, for his cock, so proud a short while ago, was now very humble. He concluded that Rose, though not good-looking as the maid, had really been the better fuck. But, of course, compared to a rosy-cheeked lad, both were of little consequence. Women weren't much, he decided. What the devil could a man talk about to them? A boy was different, -a real companion. And then his thoughts turned to his wife, and he snickered in good humor.
"I suppose she thinks if a fellow doesn't get any screwing from his wife, he don't get any at all. Well, she's all wrong."
V.
During the following few weeks, Mrs. Colton came regularly to Fontaine's. At first she came every day, but soon changed her schedule to every other day. She met Diania a few times and became intimate with other women who taught her many new tricks. She became quite an adept and lost almost all of her timidity. Now her greatest thrill lay in breaking in novices. Her desire turned toward young cunts, fragrant and juicy, dainty and delicious.
If she had been cold to her husband before, now she became an iceberg. So studiously did she avoid him that it was only logical that his suspicions should smoulder a while and then burst into flame.
"It isn't natural, a woman her age. She must be getting fucked by somebody else."
On the strength of this deduction, he sought out his wife's chauffeur. It was in the morning and the latter was washing down the coach at the rear-end of the driveway.
"Morning, Bob!"
"Good morning, sir!"
"Who pays your wages, Bob?" . "Why, you do."
"Exactly, and I haven't given you any presents lately, have I?"
"No sir," wonderingly.
"Well, here's a five for you."
The chauffeur pocketed the note.
"This isn't for nothing," he thought. "Wonder what he wants?"
"I want some information, Bob," declared his employer, as if in answer to his thought. "Where does Mrs. Colton go in the afternoons and evenings?"
"I don't know," replied Bob. "You don't pay me to spy on the Madame."
"No, of course not. But where do you take her?"
"Well, I drive her to X----Square and then she leaves the car and doesn't get back till evening."
"In which direction does she go?"
"North on Courtney Street."
"At what time do you generally reach the square?"
"Oh, between two-thirty and three."
"I see, and she comes back at--?"
"At five or six. Sometimes a little later."
"0. K. That's fine, Bob. You smoke cigars, don't you? Have a couple. They're 0. K. I smoke them myself."
"Thanks, sir. Much obliged."
As Colton strode away the chauffeur shrugged his shoulders cynically and murmured in a sing-song:
"It's none o' my business."
And so, that afternoon, Colton shadowed his wife, who went to the establishment of M. Fontaine to play once again the role of Sappho. As she entered the place masked and accompanied by Lucy, they bumped into Walsh, in uniform. He was buttoning his pants with one hand and his tunic with the other.
"Hello, sweetheart," he cried heartily. "How'd you like to take me on?" "No!" she answered frigidly. "I'll suck you off," he bargained. "No!"
"I apoligize for him Madame," said Lucy tactfully. "You will take number six today."
As the women disappeared the attendant turned resentfully to Walsh.
"You musn't do that, officer. You're spoiling the business."
"What do you want me to do?" demanded Walsh. "This is the third day I haven't been able to get a woman who'd let me eat it. That fat bitch you gave me a little while ago only wanted to fuck. And she must be about fortyfive. I guess she can't get fucked anywhere else so she comes here. This is getting to be a hell of a joint."
"I'll suck you off if that will give you any satisfaction," Lucy proposed.
"It won't."
"You can slip it into me from behind, then," insinuatingly.
"Naw! I don't go the dirt route. Well, so long. I'll drop in again tonight or tomorrow."
As Walsh reached the sidewalk he ran into Colton and recognized him almost instantly from the many photographs he had seen.
"Hello, officer!"
"How do you do, Mr. Colton. Fine day." "You know me then, officer. What is your name?"
"Walsh. I'm off duty now. I go on at eight"
"I see, Mr. Walsh. You're a fine looking cop, and I'll remember you. Might do you a good turn some day."
"I shouldn't wonder, Mr. Colton," with a grin.
"What kind of a joint is that behind the antique shop, Walsh?"
"Why, ah, nothing much. Just a store room."
"What were you doing there?"
"Oh, I was just talking to a chap who works in there. He's a friend of mine."
"Well, I'll tell you, Walsh, -you may be a good cop, but you're a rotten liar. You see, I've been tipped off to that joint, but I haven't got all the information."
"He wants to get in so he can fuck somebody in the ass," thought the policeman. "I guess there's no harm in giving him the lowdown."
So in a few brief words he described the establishment to Colton. That gentleman was amazed, but his trained features were relaxed as he listened.
"A great place, isn't it?" smiled the politician. "Got everything in there, eh? Boys too, I'll bet."
"I don't know," said Walsh sceptically, trying to keep a straight face.
"I think I'll take a whack at it, Walsh. So long. See you again."
When he had vanished into the ante-room, the cop chuckled and said to himself:
"Here's where Lucy gets his ass-hole loosened."
Masked and ready for action, Colton pushed the button. The moment Lucy appeared his cock began to stiffen, at last here was his ideal.
"How do you do," the attendant greeted.
"Hello! Any boys today? you know."
"I'm sorry. We haven't. They're so hard to get M. Fontaine will have to get some pretty soon because we get a lot of calls for them."
"That's too bad," muttered Colton. His tool was coming straight up, for he was giving Lucy's generous middle the once over.
"We have a middle-aged man today, who'll take," suggested the attendant
"No, I want a boy. You haven't any, eh. How about yourself?"
"You want me?" Lucy giggled.
"Yes, sure. How much do you want?"
"Oh, I'll make it cheap. Only ten dollars."
"0. K. Let's get busy."
Lucy ushered him inside and brought him to a little space, curtained off. She turned on a wall lamp, which disclosed a couch, a chair and a wash stand. On the wall there were two buzzers and some push buttons.
"This is my place," explained Lucy, "so
I can be close to the buttons, to let the customers in. Let me see your thing."
Colton opened his pants and out sprang the bald-headed soldier, all set for the frig.
"Oh, my, what a nice one!" Lucy cried in a transport of joy. "Let me kiss it."
"Nothing doing. You'll take it in the brown."
"Oh, please. I'll be mad at you. Just let me kiss it. I won't suck. I promise."
"All right, go ahead."
Lucy bent her head, and in a moment her lips were around the swollen head.
"Get away!" growled Colton, as he pushed the fairy free of his tool. "Come on! -let's see what kind of an ass you've got."
In a trice the attendant slipped down his trousers and turned his ass to Colton.
"Gee! -you've got a dandy." The politician grasped a handful of tender pink ass in either hand. Then as Lucy bent over, he parted the cheeks and inspected the circular brown hole, surrounded by a bale of hairs.
"Wait, dear, till I get the vaseline," said the fairy and straightened up.
"It looks pretty clean," remarked Colton, trembling in his desire for action.
"Yes, it is," Lucy assured him, "I'm never constipated if I get fucked regularly. The muscles get relaxed, then, you see, sr\i\ I have control over them."
"Being screwed is good for constipation, then?"
"Yes. Best thing in the world."
"Why don't you take your idea to Bernard McFadden?" laughed Colton. "He's looking for a sure cure for that ailment. Goofy on the subject."
"Hee Hee -That's a good one," giggled Lucy. "Imagine the Graphic and the Physical Culture Magazine having articles on the proper way to fuck in the ass, with illustrations, so you can't make mistakes. Do it to music on counts."
They laughed heartily at their joke, while Lucy greased her ass-hole. As Colton mounted her she cautioned:
"Don't force it, sweetheart. Slip it in gradually. I think I can take it all the way."
She was right, for her ass-hole slowly swallowed his cock, clear to the mustache. Colton began to ride his mount furiously. It was a tight fit, for he had a fat prick, but the hole was well-lubricated and he enjoyed the friction immensely. He clasped his arms around Lucy, while she turned her head and pouted her lips for a kiss. Colton refused at first, but after a while he became so blinded by his passion that he kissed her squarely on the mouth. Lucy worked her buttocks in unison with his strokes, just like a woman, and also achieved a circular rolling movement.
Suddenly, a buzzer rang. The attendant reached to the wall and pressed a button, holding her finger on it a few seconds.
"Damn it," Colton swore, "at a time like this somebody's got to come in."
The second buzzer, of a different tone, rang. "I've got to answer it," said Lucy, "I'll be right back."
"Nothing doing. I'll go off in a minute, so let them wait."
Lucy tried to free herself, and after struggling a while Colton let her go.
"Don't be angry, dear. I'll come back right away."
She pulled up her trousers, made herself presentable and left. Colton gazed at his glistening tent-pole and laughed. He did not have long to wait. Lucy came back, dropped her trousers and took it into her again.
"We'll finish it this time," the politician grunted, "you won't get away from me again."
"Why, I didn't want to leave you, honey. You know that. Give me a kiss and make up."
Colton didn't want to, but a little later, as he was about to go off, he pressed a burning kiss against his warm wet lips. A stream of boiling liquid shot into Lucy's entrails and she sighed with pleasure as her rider gave her the last few strokes.
"My ass-hole pretty near winked me to death that time," chuckled Colton, as he drew his shining spear out of the gasping wound.
Lucy washed it for him and they sat down on the couch, he playing with his balls. In vain she pleaded to suck it. On that score he was adamant, a little later, when Colton's cock was restored to stiffness, they went at it again. Two times they were interrupted, but the politician did not mind that now. He calculated that, with pauses, his enjoyment would last the longer. After the second fuck, seeing that it was only four o'clock, he decided to have a third one. They did, and it was close to five before he got away, promising Lucy that he would come again. And he meant it, for he saw in her an ideal lover. He would have liked to remain longer, but he wanted to catch his wife coming out.
He waited a block south of Fontaine's, standing in a store-front, smoking a cigar. She came at about five-thirty and was startled out of her wits when he stepped out and seized her arm.
"Where've you been?" he demanded.
"Nowhere," she answered, ragaining her composure. "Just taking a stroll. Why all the roughness?" Inwardly she was quaking. "Did he know anything?"
"What were you doing in back of Fontaine's?"
"Back of Fontaine's!"
"Yes, back of Fontaine's, back of Fontaine's!" he was mocking her. "Quit playing innocent. I know all about Fontaine's. You don't think a man as important as I am in the city hall would be blind to a place like that. You'd be surprised at the things I know about this berg. I get reports from all directions. Well -what were you doing there? Getting your pee-hole warmed by some two-legged stallion?"
"No!" It came involuntarily.
"Then I suppose you've been having some doings with another woman," he said sarcastically. He did not realize that he had struck the mark until she began to blush, scarlet with shame, while her whole being shook, as though with palsy. She began to cry, thinking he knew all.
"S" that's it. You're having traffic with women. That's why you wouldn't let me jazz you the last few weeks. How long has this been going on?"
"About -three weeks," she sobbed, putting her handkerchief to her nose.
They walked a block in silence. The suspense was maddening to her.
"What are you going to do?" she asked brokenly.
"Oh, nothing," he replied carelessly. "You can have all the women you want. I don't give a rap." A moments silence, and he blurted out: "But why the devil didn't you tip me off three week's ago, when you found out about that place."
NUMBER THREE
In which M. Fontaine, through an ingenious stratagem, averts a ruinous scandal. Mrs. Gerald Clovis, twenty-two year old wife of the well known banker, had been acquainted a long time with the establishment of M. Fontaine. Mrs. Clovis, however, did not come often to the Palace of Joy, in spite of the fact that she felt as though she would like to make it her home. The reason is simple. Her husband was, as you may know, about sixty-five years old, but as you may not know, he was impotent. Though he could not get an erection anymore, yet the impulse to attach himself to the body of a female still persisted in his brain, and all indications were that it would continue to persist until he was laid away in the hospitible ground. To placate his desire, he took readily to sucking his wife's cunt. Such an artist did he become at this delicious pastime that it took a strong hold on him, becoming almost a mania. His wife suffered for him to have his fill, even though he went to exorbitant lengths, for he was very kind to her and there was nothing in the world he would not give her, except perhaps a lover. The result was that she was almost always drained, and was compelled to eschew the activities she would have liked to take part in. She did not care to divorce him as she did not want any whisper or scandal; besides he was old and often ill and would soon die. She liked the old man in her own way and wanted to make his last few years pleasant.
The few times that she did go to Fontaine's were during illnesses of her husband, and during trips he took away from the city. Then she would compensate herself for her martyrdom with weird and fantastic orgies. The truth is, she liked to take part in any kind of sexual affair, -accepting the ministrations of both men and women with equal enjoyment. Also, she prefered to indulge with a whole group at the same time, for she was passionately fond of exhibitions. The knowledge that others were watching while she was fucking, thrilled her the center of her being, and she enjoyed very much to observe others at their erotic exertions. So many sexual experiences had she had during her short life, and so carried to extremes were they, that her heart had been affected to the extent of causing her physician to look grave. But this did not worry her.
When her husband imparted to her that he had to go to Europe on important business, she was overjoyed. Now she could go to Fontaine's every day, and, forgetting that she had ever worn clothes, play the wanton to satiety. The first day she went there, she engaged Lucy, the fairy attendant, in conversation, and suggested an exhibition party on the grand scale. She told him she was willing to start the ball rolling and keep it going and the fairy attendant became very enthusiastic over her proposal. M. Fontaine was conferred with, and he lent his sanction to hold the orgy the following day, giving Lucy instructions to apprize all guests that afternoon and evening of the gay event, so that those who did not care to attend might refrain. So, that night the sleep of many individuals was troubled by restless anticipations.
Mrs. Clovis came early next day. About one-thirty. Twenty-six people had arrived and Lucy assigned them to rooms, putting as many as four to a room. All were masked and they undressed freely before one another. All derived great excitement and pleasure from the stripping process. One woman, of middle age, in a room with two men and another woman gave an undressing party which became hilarious. First she lifted her gown as high as the middle of her thighs and then dropped it. She repeated this two or three times until the men became wild. All women know that it is nice to have something con cealed. Then, removing her gown, she teased them some more by fooling around with her dainty underthings. Before she was completely nude one of the men had her on the couch and was performing a very popular ceremony on the center of her person. The other two were not tardy in imitating them. Because of this they were a trifle late in joining the grand assembly.
To one, suddenly and without warning, stepping into this garden of Eros, the first shock of astonishment would be succeeded by the feeling that he had entered another world or another era, -one of those eras read of in history when major and lesser potentates were wont to amuse themselves and their synchopants with licentious tableaux of this sort. After remaining in the place a while and participating, as he surely would, in the erotic rites instead of merely being an observer, the scene and its activities would become so real and tangible that the world outside, with its stiffled longings and hypocritical moralities would strike the brain like an abhorent dream.
Ah. What a band of revelers!
What a splendid company of young gods and nymphs and their band of satellites! the few gray old satyres among them accentuated the charms of the former. Like the desirable creatures of a pleasant dream they appeared, their nude bodies changing color as they moved gracefully and suggestivly in the varigated lights. The air was a symphony of odor, for the usual incense of the place had co-mingled with divers feminine perfumes. All the senses were appealed to, including that of taste, an old man, with shrivelled peter and bag, had his head between a middle-aged lady's outspread legs.
Except for a few oldsters, all the men had hard-ons, and using their willing eyes and eager hands, all were in a state of transport. This soon wore off a little and most of them lost self-conscienciousness of their nakedness. It began to seem as though that were a reasonable and logical condition, and from this feeling they derived much enjoyment, for it gave them a sense of sudden freedom, and not one was sorry that he had come. Among them we might mention two of our acquaintences,Mr. Colton, the politician, and Walsh, the policeman. The law itself, it seemed, did not wish to be excluded from such a remarkable festival.
Lucy, bare, except for a long flowing veil, had a difficult time in bringing her charges to order. She finally, through the use of a chair, lifted herself above them, disclosing her diminutive privates, and cried in a high key:
"Ladies anp1 gentlemen, attention."
"Cunts and cocks, attention," mimicked some wag, and his sally was greeted with laughter.
Lucy's chair was close to a pair of step ladders, connected, with a stout plank. The plank was covered with soft cloth and had a hole cut out in the center. Its purpose will soon become apparent. The group, having become more or less quiet, the fairy rendered her introductory speech, which she had been half the night preparing.
"Ladies and gentlemen! We have a very fine entertainment for you this afternoon, an entertainment you will not forget even if you live to be older than the earth; except in dreams it will never be seen. This young lady," indicating Mrs. Clovis, "will lead our festivities with a splendid scene which she has agreed to repeat three times, providing that partners are available. But on that score, we need, of course, have no fear. She is threeway, this lady, and will show us how she can enjoy connections with three gentlemen at the same time. This act, as I already said, will be repeated three times, changing partners each time, the lady having had during her performance nine different tools in her person." A sigh of admiration arose from the assembly and necks craned so that eyes could the better devour the plump form of Mrs. Clovis. Lucy continued: "The lovely lady will carry on her performance standing, one of her consorts playing his role from the rear, using the circular orifice; the second, taking the opposite position, will employ the oval aperture for his enjoyment; and the third will lie on this plank, which may already have excited your curiosity, his standard of Hermes appearing through the opening, cut especially for the purpose. This last male member, ah, lucky lady, will find a proper lodgement between her beautiful lips. The actors in the drama will now stand forward, and between acts we shall have as many byplays as you ladies and gentlemen may care to extemporate. Ahem."
The three men chosen for their eminent and anxiously awaited exhibition presented themselves. Walsh, the policeman, and a man with a short but stiff pecker joined Mrs. Clovis, while a slender chap of medium height climbed up the ladder and posed on the plank, his cock, of monstrous size, standing erect.
"Oh, what a noble thing he has," cried a woman.
Mrs. Clovis maintained the proud posture of a young nymph about to be visited by Apollo. She was all prepared to be sacrificed on the altar of venus. Her cunt was afire, her ass-hole was greased with vaseline and her tongue and lips were impatient to occupy themselves with a hot prick. Her two partners on the floor were not idle. Each seized one of her firm breasts and began to suck on it. She threw an arm around either's neck and cried:
"Look at my babies, people! How thirsty they are."
"Whoever saw babies with such balls?" demanded an old man facetiously, and everybody roared.
At a signal from Lucy, the young man on the plank stretched out on his belly, permitting his cock and balls to protrude the opening in the plank. His tool was on a level with Mrs. Clovis's head, which fitted partly in the opening. Walsh and the assistant from the rear stood on both sides of the plank. The four were about to connect, when a woman stepped forward, flushed and excited.
"My dear," she said to Mrs. Clovis, "don't swallow it. Save it for me."
Mrs. Clovis agreed to do this.
"Bravo!" some one cried.
by this time Walsh had his cock into Mrs. Clovis's cunt and she took the stalwart member from above into her mouth.
"All right! -rear man! Do your stuff!"
The man with the small peter spread apart the beautifully rounded cheeks of her ass and his rod slipped in with little difficulty.
Amid the enthusiastic and admiring cries and exhortations of the onlookers, for the doors and walls were stout and no one outside could hear them, the debauch went on. Mrs. Clovis mouthed greedily on her all-day sucker, while the two men moved their lips in harmony as they fucked her from both sides. Some fellow remarked regretfully that it was too bad she had only three holes. Walsh, who was screwing her in the cunt, was annoyed by the bollicks dangling in front of his face, so he bent his head to her breasts to escape them. Many jeers and jests saluted this maneuver.
The group in action were in a paroxym of delight as they rushed in their speedy chariots towards the steep precipice of copulation. And the spectators mounted up the steps of frenzy till they reached the throne of madness. Before the show was over many of them formed groups of their own and became concentrated on their own lascivious engagements. One group comprised a woman on her hands and knees, sucking a woman lying on her back, while a man screwed her dogfashion. Another woman, her hands vaselined, was jerking-off two men, while she sucked a third, a fourth lapping her cunt from behind. Colton, the politician, mounted Lucy, his favorite, and fucked her in the ass while she sucked off another man. And so it went.
Among Mrs. Clovis's lovers, the man behind went off first, but held his position, waiting for the others. The man above was next and Walsh, in front, soon followed. The first bout was over and they parted. The lady who had requested the spend in Mrs. Clovis's mouth, now came forward and lay down on her back. Mrs. Clovis bent down close to her and let the sticky liquid slip out of her mouth into the other woman's. The latter swallowed it with enjoyment and asked for a spit so that she could have what remained of the cock juice. Mrs. Clovis, gracious lady that she was, complied by spitting a large lump of saliva into the supine woman's mouth. The latter then got to her feet and gave thanks for the offering.
As soon as Lucy was free of her group, she busied herself and brought around a tray with small glasses of benedictine, cagnac and Maderias.
"This is on the house," she explained as she served the patrons, at the same time wondering how much she would get in tips. Some of the worshipers of Venus drank while they were entangled in sexual embraces.
Cigarettes were lighted and the ghostly haze of smoke changed color as it drifted lazily upward in the path of many lamps. Some of the revellers were still at play and some of them had gone into the rooms to with their surroundings. This was IT! -this wash themselves. All had lost their embarrassment and had relaxed into that mental state wherein they felt they were in harmony was what they had breamed of and longed for so often, -the liberty to indulge themselves promiscuously and without a word of censure on anyone's part.
The second bout began, but with less spectators than before, since some of the clients elected, having found their affinities, to do their fucking in the rooms. Those who looked on while Mrs. Clovis was entered by three pricks, soon became bored, for it was only a repitition of the first tableau. They found diversion in their own games; which were at once unique and daring. This piqued Mrs. Clovis and she planned a different affair for her scene.
When the time came for this, she arranged a group in the following fashion. She had two men lie in the same direction on their backs, one's middle alongside the other's head. Then she got on top of one, guided his ramrod into her cozy coozy and rode him while she sucked the other man's prick. A third man, it was Colton with his seven inch driver, mounted her and fucked her in the ass-hole. Lucy then vaselined Mrs. Clovis's armpits and two fine male tools found ecstatic excitation in the hollows. The scene drew many of the debauchees out of the rooms and they gave Mrs. Clovis much applause. That lascivious lady was in her element.
To have five stiff cocks working on one's body at the same time was something to be elated over. She felt as though she were fulfilling her mission in life,-the splendid mission of being fucked, yes, well-fucked. She let go of the prick in her mouth to see how the others were enjoying the act, and became angered because of their apparent neglect. For the onlookers had started a little game of their own and their attentions were rivited on their own doings.
"What must one do to hold their eyes?" wondered Mrs. Clovis with scorn. "Must one cut a hole in one's body to give passage to a prick?"
She dismissed them from her mind and concentrated herself on her lovers. Ah. Men. Men,-with their wonderfully wrought bodies; the symmetry of their forms, the hardness of their muscles, the pride of their attitude, the agility of their hips as they loved, and last, but by no means least, the stiffness of their beautiful pricks. She sucked more energetically on the prick in her mouth as she thought of these things. And the other pricks worked furiously on her person, making her glow with a monstrous pride. Especially the big one in the rear. Her ass-hole smarted from the thrusts, but the excruciating sensation in her cunt offset this, and in fact she began to feel a certain pleasure from the pain. Her heart was pounding like a riviting gun as the blood leaped stormily through her arteries and veins. She was alive! -as alive as it is possible for a human being to be, alive and in the toils of passion. The prick in her mouth suddenly went off and the stream of salty fire spattered in her throat. She swallowed greedily and sucked for more. She sighed and groaned in her madness, for her whole body was on fire.
And then, without warning, the entire organization of erotic activity was thrown into confusion. For a moment very few seemed to know what was wrong, but it quickly became apparent that Mrs. Clovis had fainted. She was disconnected from her lovers and water was dashed in her face while her arms and legs were rubbed. The mask slipped from her features and a great hue and cry arose.
"Why, it's Mrs. Clovis!"
"Mrs. Clovis!"
"Mrs. Clovis?"
"Surely not Mrs. Gerald Clovis?" "Mrs. Gerald Clovis." "The banker's wife!" There was excited buzzing from the men and sobs and low screams from the women.
Faces turned pale and ghastly from fear and bodies shuddered.
"What's the matter with her?"
"Better get a doctor for her."
"Give her a liquor."
Mrs. Clovis was unconscious for quite a while. Then, she gave a sharp gasp and opened her eyes with an expressionless stare. She relaxed limp, her eyes still open, and suddenly stiffened.
Walsh, who had been jazzing in one of the rooms, pushed his way in authoritatively, and f sit her pulse. He looked worried. Next he turned his attention to her heart. Undisguised alarm showed on his face.
"She's dead!" he announced in a strained voice.
"Dead?"
"Dead!"
"She isn't dead?" "Yes. She's dead!" "DEAD."
The pregnant word leaped from lip to lip.
A convulsion of horror swept through the now thoroughly sobered assemblage. Venus was forgotten. Pricks hung down in limp neglect. Cunts stopped burning with a delicious fire. Only a strange fear knocked at their hearts. The Black Reaper was conqueror, and mounted on a fierce and trampling charger, rode madly through their brains, pounding, pounding:
"Dead! Dead! DEAD!"
The air was hushed and solemn and most of the revellers retired to the rooms and began preparing themselves to re-enter the outside world. Some were in a panic; some were merely nauseated; almost all were decided on one thing; -they must get away from the place. They must not be entangled in this affair. They must keep clear of scandal.
The couch in Lucy's curtained off space was dragged out and the body was placed gently upon. Lucy dressed hurriedly and shaking in every fiber, went to acquaint M. Fontaine with the grisly situation. One by one, quickly, like guilty ghosts, the earstwhile gods and nymphs let themselves out of the establishment. Their voices were low and their movements stealthy.
One young lady, still naked, stared a long while at the corpse and then laughed mirthlessly:
"The Queen is dead! Long live the Queen!"
She looked around at a half dozen males, still petrified, still overcome by the disaster, still unable to decide on some course of action. She addressed them with mock dramatics:
"Death has come, but Venus still lives! On with the fuck! I offer my body in Venus's service. Who will have me?"
A young man came to life and his prick, urged by his thoughts, began to rise. He stepped forward.
"I will," he said. "You remember the lines of Kipling:
"And the mutters of the dying Never spoiled the lover's kiss."
They slipped arms around each other's bare waists and adjoined to one of the rooms. The other men scattered and M. Fontaine came in with Lucy. Walsh was sitting at the side of the body.
"You are certain she is dead?" asked Fontaine.
"Yeh, she's dead," disconsolately. "What are you going to do about this?" "I don't know yet."
M. Fontaine assured himself that the lady was dead and then went from the room. He succeeded in getting two of the women who were dressing to wash and dress the body. While they were at their labors, the antique dealer paced nervously up and down, though his face was calm
"Oh, this is terrible, terrible," sobbed Lucy. "Whatever will come of it?"
"Be quiet, Lucy," Fontaine importuned sharply. "I'm trying to think."
The body, washed and dressed, lay on the couch, and, of all the clients, only the amorous couple remained. They were in one of the rooms, fucking without restraint.
Walsh, dressed in civilian clothes, joined Fontaine in his promenade, while Lucy wrung her hands in despair. All was quiet and the bleak atmosphere of eternity struggled with the exotic odors of the establishment. Only the faint footsteps of the two men sounded. Suddenly M. Fontaine stopped short.
"You have an idea?" asked Lucy, hopefully.
"Yes. You know that Jacobin chest of teakwood?"
"Yes," wonderingly.
"I'm going to sell it to her," pointing to Mrs. Clovis.
"Sell it to her?" cried Lucy. "Why, she's dead!"
"That's just why I'll sell it to her," was the strange reply. "If she were alive she wouldn't buy it. Being dead, she cannot very well protest. I'll put the body in the chest and deliver it to her home. The rest will depend on how clever we are."
"Good idea!" exclaimed Walsh, glad that logical action was now at hand. "I'll help you if you need me."
They were not long in carrying their intentions into effect. The body was placed in the chest which was made ready for transportation and a light truck was ordered. It soon arrived and the chest was carried out of the shop. Lucy sat with the driver, while Walsh and Fontaine sat on the precious box, which was covered with an old comforter, such as used by furniture movers. Never in the world would Mrs. Clovis have imagined that she would sometime sleep under such a dirty coverlet.
They passed street after street and traffic officer after traffic officer in the sharp and windy October afternoon while pedestrains and automobiles moved about their business, little knowing that Death moved among them.
And then an accident happened. In order to avoid striking a foolhardy pedestrain, who strolled in where even angels would have feared to tread, the truck swerved and smashed into the rear wheel of a heavier truck. The damage was fatal to their truck. There were shouts and curses, a crowd collected and a policeman's whistle blew. A light express, seeing the chance of a fare, drew alongside and bargained to carry the chest. The two trucks were extricated, an officer taking memoranda in his book. Walsh knew him by sight, and before his eyes, the teakwood box under the glance of the rapidly augmenting crowd, was moved to the newly-hired truck.
Soon they were on their way again, leaving behind a suspicious cop.
"Wonder what that guy Walsh is up to?" he communed with himself. "Bet that box was full of booze. Wise guy! Making a little side money for himself."
Mrs. Clovis lived in an imposing apartment house on Park Avenue, and the driver of their truck, with the assistance of Lucy and Fontaine, carried the coffin to the express elevator in the rear of the building. Walsh remained with the truck and twiddled his thumbs nervously.
At the apartment of the dead woman, a man servant and a maid were found, and the box was carried into Mrs. Clovis's boudoir.
There were automatic locks on the bed room and boudoir doors, so he set the latter and went to work. First, the stiffening body was removed from the casket and taken into the bed room. There, he took off the hat and cloak, and placed the corpse on the floor in a crumpled position. The clothes he arranged with great care and to his satisfaction. Studying her position very keenly, he made a few changes. Fine, he decided. Then he set the lock on the bed-room door, and closed it with a snap. In the boudoir, he examined the chest to see that no evidence remained. That was all right. He breathed easier and opened the door to leave. With a start at what he saw, he stepped back and shrugged his shoulders resignedly.
"I suppose I shall have to wait till they get through," he muttered, for Lucy was being fucked in the ass by the man-servant.
But he didn't have long to wait, for the servant was quick on the trigger. Out on the street again M. Fontaine reproached his em. ployee:
"That was a foolish thing to do at�such a time. It seems your itchy ass-hole hasn't any reverance for the dead."
"Well, you've got to take it when you can get it," replied Lucy saucily, now that the dead body was disposed of.
At the corner they met Walsh and they all tumbled into a taxi. All were in good humor and they expressed their relief in conversation.
"This case," remarked Walsh, "reminds me of a good story. A white man with a weak heart was screwing a negro whore and his heart backfired on him and he croaked. Well, the girl notified the police, and in due time an inquest was held. Among other things the coroner asked the girl this question: 'Miss Johnson! At the time this man died do you remember noticing anything peculiar about his eyes?' 'Yes sah!' the girl says. 'Ah did notice he was coming. Ah didn't know he was goin .
Lucy and Walsh laughed unrestrainedly, and M. Fontaine permitted himself an amused smile.
The following morning the antique dealer sat in his little office at the rear of the shop, a newspaper in one hand and a bill in the other. The bill was to Mrs. Gerald Clovis for one teakwood chest of the Jacobin period. The newspaper had, in a couple of paragraphs, the account of the sudden death, due to heart disease, of Mrs. Gerald Clovis in the bedroom of her apartment. The body, according to the paper, had been found the evening before by the deceased lady's maid. Then there were a few lines explaining who Mrs. Clovis was, who her maternal grandmother was, and how her paternal aunt preferred to have her eggs cooked.
A considerable number of the elite of the city were also interested in the item and there was great wonder in their minds when they had perused it carefully. All were agreed that M. Fontaine was a clever man. How had he done it? One good lady stared at the paper and murmured:
"That was a wonderful way to die, with all those handsome pricks working on her."
IV.
(Archive Note: This is the second section annotated as 'IV'.)
The tragic death of Mrs. Clovis seemed to have cast a shadow of misfortune over Mr. Fontaine's placid establishment. For ever since that grand lady succumbed under the constant pressure of too many stiff pricks the antique dealer's venerable institution suffered a series of grave reverses, and hung under a nemesis that was persistent, and eventually disastrous.
It fell upon the house in a strange and fantastic manner, and only serves to prove what pranks a stiff prick will play on a man.
'Several weeks after the demise of the banker's wife the patrolman, Walsh, was walking his beat as usual. Although he had that very same day already made two distinct visits to Fontaine, his penis nevertheless stiN itched and bothered him. And so he decided to return once more. But it so happened that as he entered the side door Police Inspector McGuire on the opposite side of the street spotted him. Now Inspector McGuire, otherwise an amiable soul, was a man mindful of his duty, and he decided to keep a close eye on Walsh. And so the next day and the day after he watched Walsh furtively enter Fontaine's through the side door. What particularly struck McGuire was that the policeman, though apparently quite sober, always came out of the house with an exultant look in his face and a springiness in his gait. What sort of a joint is this, wondered the Inspector. Find out he must.
The very next day he put on his civilian clothes and made for Fontaine's. It was a short while before Walsh came on duty.
Inspector McGuire was a well-dressed man. He always sported a black derby rakishly tilted to one side of his head, an orange and blue tie and a pair of tan gloves. He could hardly be mistaken anywhere for an officer of the law.
As he pushed the button and heard the lock click McGuire swaggered gently in with the calm assurance of a man who knows the law is at his back, though he was just a wee bit nervous with expectant curiosity.
The Inspector had not long to wait in the anti-room when Lucy soon appeared. They came to a quick and amicable understanding, for the Inspector let it be impressively known that he wanted a woman who knew how to take a thorough good poking. When Lucy suggested something other than the usual thing, just a little bit of trimming thrown in for good measure, McGuire brushed him aside with irritation.
"Hell no!" he said, "I want none of your cunt-lapping, arse-licking nonsense. I just want a wholesome piece of cunt served up straight, a real, honest-to-goodness fuck. But
Christ be sure you fetch me a lass who can go the route, for I'm a long distance pusher, old fellow!"
It was only too true. McGuire haa a prodigious tool that hung from his middle with bold cocky arrogance. And little wonder. For it had been handed down as a sacred and proud possession by the McGuire ancestors from generation to generation. It grew into an inviolable tradition, and many's the story and rhyme woven into the family chronicles around this heirloom of the McGuires, to which in fealty Celtic bards sung their praise; the McGuires still point with pride to an old, obscure legend about one of their early hibernian ancestors who rogered a dinosaur to exhaustion.
The Inspector himself was a true scion of his line. His cock, the true McGuire cock, the same that vanquished a dinosaur, was very early the turning point of his career, which made him quite a figure in police annals. But the Inspector took full advantage of his opportunities, for in every promotion he got, from plain patrolman to his present high station, his prick was the revolving point. He never would have been made a sergeant did he not have sense enough to cleave the arse occasionally of the lieutenant at the desk; which same lieutenant could not fail but bring the notice of McGuire's rummaging talents before the attention of the captain of the precinct. With the captain, McGuire sly rogue that he was, brought his full ramming powers into play. And so carefully, delicately and indelatigably did he reconnoiter the entire, eager, neglected effluvial tract of the captain, that the latter out of sheer gratitude, if nothing else, ran precipitately to the commissioner. And so McGuire went from depth and height to height, and was soon made an Inspector, for the commissioner thought it a most fitting title and honor to confer upon him.
But when McGuire entered Fontaine's he was overtaxed with his official chores as Inspector, too many demands lately having been made by his colleagues upon the McGuire heritage hanging above his balls, and his heart's desire for the moment was set upon a good old-fashioned fuck, which brought tears to his eyes and memories to his heart, memories of his grandfather, and his youth, and the days of hobbleskirts and the horsecar. That is why he was so irritated when Lucy was over-officious in trying to please him. No, now he was on a holiday and yearned for a cunt, something out of the line of his official duty. For the nonce, arseholes be damned.
Lucy made him welcome in a small comfortable room, where the Inspector shed his clothes in a trice and made himself ready for what promised to be only the beginning of a fine holiday jaunt. At last he was taking up his life where he left off many years back.
Shortly he heard a light knock on the door, and to his response a short strapping highly geared woman softly entered. She slipped quietly up to him with a wealth of coddling endearments.
"The devil with these fripperies!" cried the Inspector. "Let's get down to work!"
And so they did. She poised her chunky thighs high in the air and gobbled in his prick to the hilt, a feat few women were able to accomplish, for McGuire was long as he was wide. But she was an old hand at the game, and her channel was well drained. The Inspector was elated, and his prick proceeded to beat a steady tatoo against the drum of her plump, apple-cheeked buttocks.
"Oh, darling," she gasped, "you're all wool and a yard wide."
In spite of the fact that the woman's cavity was huge and the lips of her vulva hung loose and limp with little elasticity, McGuire's prick, so generous were its proportions, had to elbow its way in every time be lunged forward. They were just made for each other rather by years of burrowing she was hollowed out just right for him. For close on to an hour McGuire still rode his hobby horse and his stout rod ploughed through the loose muscles of her vulva with the steady determination of a rodent. At last it was too much for the woman and she whispered faintly in his ear, "Darling, did you come... do come off, please! I can stand no more..."
"Come? Hell, I'm on my sixth barrel!"
Disappointed at the abrupt termination, he got off and lay tense and hard by her side, where he quietly masturbated himself into a seventh orgasm. Then they started talking about little odds and ends of their fucking experiences.
"Tell me, how did you learn to fuck so well?" asked the Inspector.
"Well, from the earliest time that I can recollect I had been used to sucking Mama's quim and bottom, and, in fact, performing every office for her that any one without a prick could, and she has never been afraid to let me see her enjoying a fuck. So it was not want of opportunity; but Mum always told me to wait -that I was too young and that I would appreciate it all the more if I gave my cunt time to ripen. But with the blood of a horny father and mother seething in me I did not see why I could not fuck as early as Mamma did, only she told me how she had suffered through being ripped open in her teens, and I restrained myself. Nature at last became too strong and I felt I must fuck or burst. When mother saw I couldn't wait she advised me to pick Tom for my first trial. 'I haven't fucked him myself," she said, 'but I should think he's about your size, and not too green.' Tom was a nice young fellow, and Mamma's tip suited me. I let him see I liked him, and having encouraged him to kiss me, and take small liberties, I meanwhile made sure to myself that he had the wherewithal to supply an amorous girl, and decided to bring him to the point-or perhaps I should say bring myself to the point ... of his prick ... on a fishing excursion in the country. I carefully anointed my quim, for I had no mind to be torn to pieces like mother, discarded my drawers, and felt that once Tom had got his hand on my thighs and bottom his prick would soon follow. So, as I sat reading, while Tom fished without much luck, I persuaded him to leave the rod to itself and come and he flung himself readily at my feet, seeing which I drew up my knees, as though to make a better support for my book, and thought to myself, "He is not the boy I take him for if he doesn't have a peep." He must have seen pretty well, for his conversation wandered a good deal, and when I opened my legs and gave him a sight of my quim, as well as my naked thighs and curving bottom, he become positively ludicrous. Pres entry he ventured, "What small feet you have, Ethel, and such pretty ankles, too." I sported light open-work stockings through which a fair amount of flesh could be distinguished in fact I must have looked pretty naked from feet to waist. "Have I?" said I indifferently, pulling up my skirt to see. "Yes, and by George, shapely legs, too. Why they are nearly as big as mine." "Go on; never!" pulling up my dress still higher till my calves were in full view. "Yes they are, look." He yanked up his trousers, and hitching himself closer compared his hairy legs with mine. "Oh, yours are much bigger." "Let's measure." With his handkerchief he took the dimensions, once having got his hand on my leg he was loth to leave, and slipped it onto the naked flesh, at which, of course, I was much shocked, but carefully refrained from repulsing him. The boy's courage was rising, and so was his prick, the agitation of which he could not conceal. He placed my feet together, pushed the skirt to the knees, and lifting both legs slightly, pretended to admire the limbs disclosed to view. "By gum, Ethel, you really have splendid legs. I shouldn't have thought they were so fine. And I'll be bound you have still more beautiful limbs beyond." The scamp had seen enough of them to know what he was talking about. "But," he continued with a sudden chuckle, "I have a still finer limb that you haven't seen." "What's that?" "My middle leg!" "Yes, you couldn't show one, you know, not even if I were to lift you right up," and he lifted my feet still higher. We were getting on! "Oh, Tom," I cried in pretended alarm, "you will have me over backwards if you do that." "And if I did dear," with a threatening tilt, "I suppose I should only see a lot of fluffy drapery, such as girls always delight to stuff under their petticoats." "I am afraid you wouldn't, Tom... you would see..." "What!" "My thighs... and my b-b-bottom," I stammered, covering my face with my hands. In an instant up went my legs, my dress fell on my waist, and my ravisher was gloating over what I had described. I covered my quim with a decorous hand, but he separated my legs, and had my agitated cunt under his gaze. I protested mildly, "Oh, Tom, don't shame me so. Do put my clothes down!" but as I made no attempt to enforce the command, and showed no signs of anger, Tom wasn't such a fool as to give up the smart craft he had carried by a coup de main. I peered through my fingers and saw his cock trying to burst from his balls, and felt glad it made so good a showing. Tom was evidently in ecstacies at the sight before him; his lips were moving unsteadily, his face was flushed, and I could feel his hands and limbs trembling. And indeed, I think he was a lucky young dog to get hold of such a poke, don't you? Well, he pawed my thighs and bottom, giving me. a delicious thrill as I felt his hand gliding along my flesh, and fumbled at his buttons till he got his cock out. "Oh, what is that?" I asked very feebly. "That's my middle leg, and I guess it's going to make acquaintance with your middle, dear," he replied with a grin. "Oh, Tom, Tom, (reproachfully) are you going to ravish me? Think of my honor." He looked surprised, for as I found out, he inferred from my easy acquiescence in his proceedings that he had not to do with a virgin, and wondered where my honor came in. When he darted to the assault he ascertained his mistake, the more especially as I begged him not to hurt me, for I had never done it before. It was a good thing I had taken precautions. Tom was so excited I should have come off badly, but my rape was accomplished without too much pain, and the subsequent proceedings made me forget even that modicum of suffering. Three more times did I extract his essential oil from him that after noon, and now we are supposed to be lovers. Tom, indeed, talked about marriage, but I speedily got that idea out of his head and gave him to understand that he was to be content with fucking me, and not worry about going through a church door. But he was too modest, and took few liberties. But it was really George who taught me the ropes. He used to kiss me and mess me about pretty well as he liked, and I must say I didn't object. Well, at last it came about that we made up a camping party during the summer. There were six of us girls, all rather good looking. George brought some of bis friends along. It was a put-up job, their taking us out on a picnic, though we didn't know it, and their intention was to let no one of us return with our maidenheads. That is, whatever was left of it. We were all friendly together, some shook on one or the other of the boys, and several of us in particular on George. Of course there were ample oppor tunities for mugging and hugging, and that didn't make our youthful blood flow the more serenely. I suppose George thought the time had come to attempt my virtue, for one day, I don't exactly know how he managed it, it came to pass the rest had gone off and only he and I were left in camp. He suggested a bath in the river, and I innocently retired to our tent and undressed. I was reduced to my chemise, when in, if you please, the ruffiian stalked with only his bathing trunks on, and little enough there was even of that. He might just as well have been completely naked, for his prick and balls showed up in sharp relief. All the scamps affected this style in -order to excite our feelings, and though we scarcely liked it we hadn't had the courage to object to their indecency. I gave a slight shriek and told him to go away. Not a bit. He laughed and said, "Why so bashful, Lucy? A little cuddling won't hurt you." He caught hold of me, kissed me lecherously, causing a thrill to run down my spine and depriving me almost of the power of moving, put one hand in my bosom and the other on my bottom, and felt me all over. All the while his mouth was glued to mine and his tongue playing inside, so that I hadn't breath to protest. I could feel his prick surging and thickening until I thought a regular mast was pressing against me, and that didn't make me any cooler, you can bet. When he finally got his hand into my cunt and began to tickle it I knew what he would be at, and with a last effort broke away and crouched in the corner of the tent. "Go away, George," I said, "You are horribly rude. I won't be treated so. You know you have no right to take such liberties with an innocent girl." He chuckled, approached nearer, and cooly pulled off his one scanty covering. His cock sprang out, erect and fiery, looking to my excited imagination a foot long and as thick as my wrist. You can hardly believe my feelings at the moment. He gaily shook it at me, and asked me what I thought of it wasn't it a beauty! "Go away, you horrid beast, or I'll scream. Don't you touch me!" "Scream away, my dear. Who will hear you? Come, Lucy, be reasonable. I want to fuck you, and you know it; and you want it too, or you wouldn't have stood my pulling you about so much." I indignantly denied it, and exclaimed I would never allow it; what did he take me for to treat a lady so, and what would the other girls say? "Oh, you needn't worry about the others. Maude has had a long cock up her quim since we came here, and I have poked Tottie myself. Clara will lose her maidenhead today if Tom gets her by herself, and so will you. The rest will no longer be virgins in a day or two." "You monster," I said, fairly sobbing now: "Is that what you brought us here for -to strip us of our virtue and put us on a level with whores?" He knelt down, still holding his cock, and with a malicious grin pulled the skin up and down from the great head which was swollen and purple, and altogether looked like a rolling pin. I couldn't keep my eyes off it. George seized me, despite my shudders, and tried to get my shirt off. I resisted and he threatened to tear it in pieces, so to save it I had to let him strip me. He grabbed me at once, and began sucking my breasts, pinching my bottom, and thrusting his hand between my thighs. I defended myself and tried to scratch him, which made him angry. "Oh, if you won't be fucked peacably it will be worse for you. Fucked you shall be, and by force, as you won't give in. And you will find it won't be so pleasant as if you had opened your legs quietly."
With that he tied my hands, drew my knees almost up to my chin, and tied them to my neck. I was like a trussed fowl, and worse than all my poor little cunt was now exposed to his attacks. He picked me up, put me on the end of the stretcher, and began poking his finger into my quim, and asking me how I felt now. I was so humiliated that I could do nothing but sob, and threaten him with all sorts of futile vengeance. Little he cared. He knew I was a lady, and once fucked was not likely to publish my shame. So there I was, in a startling position for a modest girl! Stark naked and tied in a bundle; my bottom and my cunt exposed to the gaze of a naked ogre, I felt it was all up with me, and shut my eyes to await the stroke of that tremendous prick which I expected every moment to come tearing through my delicate membranes. The fiend gloated over my shame, using the filthiest terms he could think of, and hinting at atrocities I had never dreamed of, but, alas, was soon to be subjected to, and even to revel in. He only compared me with this, that, and the other girl he had fucked. My tits were not as big as Anne's; my belly not so broad as
Mrs. So and So's; my thighs not so plump as some whore's he knew; my arse., "call that an arse," he sneered, lifting it up and smacking it roughly. "Why I've fucked many a bitch with a better backside than that. But your cunt don't seem so bad (shoving his finger in harshly), and I dare say it will do as well to piss my juice in as another. Very much like Tottie's, now I come to look at it closely; only she has less hair round hers and the lips are not so fat. Yes, I think your cunt's the best part of you, Lucy."
I could have torn his eyes out to hear the beast calmly inventorying me in this way, cataloguing each shameful feature of my secret anatomy, especially when he compared me, for I knew myself to be a well shaped girl, with some battered prostitute. I cried bitterly, more with vexation that he should pretend to appraise me so lightly after stripping me, than anything else, and gave him the rough side of my tongue. My flood of fiery indignation was suddenly stopped by his stooping down and putting his tongue in my cunt. What unheard of obscenity! But there it was, running up and down, and darting into the crack. I gasped for breath, and the mocking wretch told me not to mind him, but to go on with my abuse if that would relieve me; he could suck my virgin cunny and listen at the same time. "You know, my dear, it is part of the pleasure to outrage a girl's modesty as well as her carefully preserved person at the same time, so you talk away, and I'll gamahuche this naked little pissing trap of yours." I really wished I had pissed in his face. That would have paid the brute what was due him. But the novelty, and a secret feeling of delight at having a man mugging my cunt, even if he was shoving his finger into my bottom as well, together with the pleasurable sensation caused by his tongue had their effect. It was only when he got up and presented his fearful cock between my legs that I made one more effort, swearing if he fucked me to have him arrested for rape.
"Now that shows a very bad disposition, Lucy," he retorted as cooly as you please. "You have no witnesses, you know, and if any of the others did come back they would only laugh at you, for those of the girls who haven't been fucked yet are hoping to be. You should have taken it quietly, like Tottie, and then you would have had some pleasure. As it is, I shant spare you, and when I have fucked your blasted arse off you can go and tell if you like."
With which he opened my cunt with his fingers, placed the head of his cock in the entrance, and pushed with all his might. I thought I was being split (which I was). I screamed, I swore, but the more he pushed. He fairly rammed and tore his way in. I felt something give way, and a warm stream oozing out; the hard knob went further and further in, and presently it was stuck full length in my ravished cunt. The savage laughed with joy, and having burst all obstacles, stopped, as he said, to let his prick soak. Then he suddenly started a furious ramming, striking at something inside at every thrust, and making me scream aloud. After a few ferocious strokes I felt something gush into me, hot and thick, jet upon jet. George shouted, "There, now you see, Lucy, you've been damn well fucked after all!"
I was sobbing with pain, but he took no notice and after a space went on poking, till again the heavy shower bedewed my womb. He took more time though, and as he wasn't quite so savage, but for my terror I might have extracted some pleasure from the operation. I begged him to release me, now that he had effected his purpose, for my arms and legs were hurting awfully, not to speak of the stinging in my cunt. Not he! "You've got another lesson yet, my beauty, and then I think you will be tamed, and instead of curses will receive me between your thighs with caresses."
I thought he simply intended to fuck me in my cunt again, but you can guess, from your own experience what was in store for me. The shameless wretch, to get his prick up again, scooped a handful of blood and semen out of my quim, and openly frigged himself with the pasty mess till his cock stood once more. Then he rubbed the same mixture into my bottom. Still I wondered what he was after, and it was not till he actually put his tool between the cheeks that I realized his hideous design. I was going to be buggared, no doubt of it. I had imagined men only did that to boys or to one another, and I had never thought of such a thing happening to a girl, with a wide and attractive opening in the shape of a cunt to receive a prick in. This time I fainted off, and when a stinging pain roused me once more I could feel at least half his prick up my bottom, and from the twinging of the anus I was sure the remorseless bugger had torn me there, too. I suppose he saw the pain in my face, and was afraid of going too far, for he withdrew till only the head was left in, and then leisurely racked himself off in the contractile hole and got the discharge he wanted. I was too overcome to resist any more. I again begged him faintly to untie me, promising to let him do as he liked so long as he didn't put it in my bottom again. "Ah," he chuckled, and I could have killed him where he stood. "I thought that would bring the bitch to her senses. . Nothing like a solid prick up a girl's arse to reduce her to subjection."
He released me and began to caress me, sucking my tits and bestowing such endearments on me, that if he had proceeded like that at first my thighs would probably have opened to him of their own accord. As it was I could not appreciated them, and when he stretched himself on me to fuck me again
I implored him to be satisfied and let me off. This seemed to anger him afresh, for he fucked me savagely, not once, but twice, and I was so frightened of getting that awful prick up my arse that I had to let him. My poor cunt was macerated and bled slowly all the time. Nearly every thrust was an agony, and how girls can stand being raped by one man after another, as happens at times, I don't know. I wonder if it didn't hurt him too, for I was too tight for such a prick dashed in anyhow. A man's cock must be as tough as steel. The end of it was that after being fucked five times the next day, I was so sore and ill that I couldn't accompany the others in their excursions. I had to plead sick headache, and one of them offered to stay with me. But this didn't suit her fucker, who, as I suppose, was hot after her cunt, and she said she would arrange with one of the others, and left me for a while. What was my horror, when they had all gone, to see the grin ning George enter the tent. "I've sent Clara off and promised to look after you." I shuddered visibly. "I can't, George dear, I really can't any more," I cried with tears, clasping my hands imploringly. "You have torn me so badly I really can't any more." "Well, let me see," he replied. He turned down the bed clothes, for I had not got up, and without asking my leave opened my legs and inspected my cunny, just as cooly as if I were his slave or his wife. I knew it was no use objecting, so I submitted to the affront. "Yes, it does not seem inflamed and swollen, and this, I suppose, is sore too," putting his hand to my bottom.
"Yes, it is, you monster. You have cracked that as well as my virginity."
He soothed and petted me -oh, the wretch could be charming enough when he desired -sucked my titties and brought a glow over me.
"Well," he said, "I'll let you off, and we will just play a little with one another."
He slipped down his trousers and gave me his cock to hold. I couldn't help admiring the noble rod, and examined it carefully and curiously. Of course as he calculated, despite the twinges of my cunt, my passions began to rise at the sight of his nakedness. I doddled his balls, worked them eagerly, and presently found myself returning his kisses rapturously, while my silly cunt was moistening fast, in spite of its wounded state. Slily George presented the swollen head of his prick to my lips and with a smile of satisfaction at my melting condition, rubbed it slowly between them. "Open your mouth!" he ordered. Weakly I obeyed , and in a jiffy the monstrous cock was rammed in. Then, again, I could have had my revenge, for a sharp nip or two would soon have made him retire. But, to tell the truth, I was too overcome by my own rising excitement, and perhaps curious to see how far he meant to go. I soon found out. George fucked my mouth like a cunt. I perceived that in a few strokes I should be flooded with his abominable liquor, and with an imploring look and in a stiffled voice said, "Oh, George, you are not going to do it in my mouth, surely?" "Yes, I am," he retorted firmly. "You see, even if two of your holes are useless, you have another nearly as good. When you have thoroughly tasted my noble juice I'll show you that you have a fourth resource still, and you will be able to see as well as taste it."
I still feebly tried to push his nasty prick away. He became impatient, and finally shouting, "If you dare to spoil it I'll piss in your mouth... you are my whore, and I'll fuck you as I damn well please." Saying which he shot a deluge of hot, bitter, pungeant juice down my throat.
Lucy finally ended her long drawn story. All this while the Inspector lay quietly, but was being whipped by her lascivious details into a bum-passion. He suddenly grabbed her and got her cunt across his leg and began flapping his prick against her belly. "Fuck me, fuck like hell!" cried Lucy. "Oh, that I could get you bodily into my cunt!"
He lifted his head from her armpit, where he had been inhaling the odor emanating from her full-blooded, lust-exhaling flesh, and saw Lucy's face blazing with passion, her lips parted, and her eyes bright. What a splendid fucker he thought her! Firm, elastic flesh, every bone well padded, fine round belly, and such thighs. Once she got a man between those presses they never let go till the juice was extracted from his grapes. He rushed gladly to the breach and Lucy screamed with joy as she felt his prick enter her maddened twat
"Shove it up, you devil...ram me like buggery... wash my guts or I shall piss all over your blasted cock!"
He fell on her belly, and felt the afore said guts fairly bubbling under him. He Was just as rabid now as the little strapping whore who was straining him to her nude bosom. Noticing the freedom of Lucy's language, he made bold to repay her in her own coin.
"All right!" said the Inspector, "All right, my lovely bitch, wait till I get my spout fair into your piss-pot, and I'll fuck your arse off!"
"Good, good!" replied Lucy. "Listen to him; isn't he the god-damned, cast-iron whoremonger! Ough, that went well home. I believe your prick shot right into my womb... ough!... ough!..."
He was driving with all the force of his arse, and at each stroke fell flat on her stomach, the two masses meeting with a splash. She laughed and giggled with excitement, twining her legs around him strenuously.
"I'm coming, I'm coming, you son of a splitarse whore. Fuck...fuck..."
"I'm coming, too. Fuck... fuck... you slippery-cunted whore. Wriggle your arse and I'll drive my cock out at your mouth!"
A quick ram or two more, and the juice began to flow. In the tension of the frantic spend they bit each other furiously. He still lay on her while his prick throbbed out its liquor, and the red hot cunt vibrated in response. In fact, even while Lucy reclined exhausted by the violence of her discharge, her splendid trap continued opening and shutting after his cock was withdrawn. Elated, she said, "I have seldom seen myself so excited or fucked so furiously. You surely must have a very magnetic prick."
Whereupon laughing heartily, Lucy heaved up her mighty arse, hitched forward her cunt and a broad shower descended. She seemed to take particular pleasure in pissing on his prick, in satisfaction for the obscenities to which it had provoked her. He likewise pissed upon her. A refreshing bath then cleared away all traces of the reciprocal pissing match.
As you may imagine, dear reader, it was late before they woke from an exhausted sleep. Dreamily they fancied once or twice that they heard a light tapping, and a renewal of it finally brought them to full consciousness. They said nothing, but got out of bed and heard light steps retreating. But Lucy returned to the bed again and lifting her thighs guided him again into her cunt still moist and hot, after their little repose. A woman's cunt is always smooth and slippery. The attitude was most pleasurable and he hadn't given many strokes before they recollected where they had left off. She cooly transferred the piston to her bottom, at the same time placing her hand on her cunt and intimating he was to frig it. The little piece of sodomy was brought to completion, and for the first time the Inspector had the huge satisfaction of pouring his seed into a feminine arse, and a first-rater at that.
"It was very rude of me to make you do that," said Lucy. '"Perhaps it was all very exciting, out of rogering, and I suppose I did it as a sort of reward to a good boy for fucking me so well, but you must not expect that indulgence too often."
They finally bid each other good-bye and promised to see each other again soon.
The Inspector was so pleased with the day's experience that he promised himself another such vacation very soon. But being a very communicative sort of person he could not easily refrain from confiding his adventure to the sergeant, who was a great friend of his, and to whom he felt greatly beholden for many favors and services. And so the sergeant paid the establishment of Mr. Fontaine a visit on his own account. And he, hoping to curry favor with the captain, apprised him of this paradisial institution where everything in the line of fucking was bestowed with such consummate tact and security. Soon there was a goodly company of members of the police department, high and low, gracing the establishment with their presence, pricks, arse-holes and all.
But such a band of marauding pricks they soon turned out to be that they finally succeeded in bringing the institution to ruin. In only a few months all the cunts were completely exhausted. Because of the unexpected drought they soon took a wild fling at whatever in the way of arse-holes turned up. But that supply (in spite of the indefatigable Lucy) was quickly trodden down, gobbled up, fornicated and ridden to death and decay also. So critical an emergency arose that Mr. Fontaine himself was the last resource. But a man's arse is like a rose, the bloom of which soon withers with misuse.
It soon transpired that they had to turn to themselves for their ever increasing appe tite and gluttony. But they calculated wisely that such being the case they could just as well function and amuse one another within the precinct for nothing, without the necessity of paying the establishment's fee. And so they betook themselves back to their own private haunts and Mr. Fontaine's establishment was left bleak and deserted by one and all alike, nothing remaining behind but a diffuse aroma of a grand and glorious fuck still clinging to the beams and rafters.
