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Secretarial Sex ....(61k)    by Anonymous

INTRODUCTION

Secretaries have always been fair game for writers, particularly when the themes are erotic. Even Tillie the Toiler, as innocuous as that comic strip appeared to most of its readers, had overtones of the erotic as Tillie sought her way through the perils of her life. And of course I refer there to the Tillie found in Sunday papers, and not the Tillie my friends and I read when I was in the sixth grade - the story printed in a little thirty-two page book containing pictures that were, at that time in my young life, the most exciting I had ever seen.

The secretaries appearing in this book may not seem like any we encounter on a day-today basis, and that is probably just as well, for otherwise the work of the world might not ever get done. The Diary of a French Stenographer is an old friend, going back many years - in fact, going back to the days when Adam and Eve (Adam and Eve, as the world well knows/Lived in a garden without any clothes) was making the rounds of the boys rest rooms at Alameda High School. Somehow, the French Stenographer never achieved the popularity of Adam and Eve, but she was still a memorable girl. I had largely forgotten her until a reader from the Middle West wrote and asked if we were going to publish it. Scouting around, I managed to find a copy of my long-lost friend, and now she's once again gracing the world, as delightful as ever.

The second tale combines the eternal fascination with doctors in sexual situations with that of the secretary-in-bed theme, and if Dr. Fitzhugh seems a little odd in his relations with his wife, it is no less odd than in his wife's relations with the girl she hires to jolt the good doctor out of his sexual doldrums. But then, Confidential Stenographer is a tale that must be read to be appreciated, and the less we say now the more your enjoyment.

The Affairs of Nancy Curtis is a curious and unique story, for it combines elements of sadism, masochism and anal eroticism in a fiery tale of unusually skillful execution. Nancy is a meek and submissive individual, willing to endure the greatest pain or the most hideous indignities for the one she loves-and her boss and sister are uniquely fitted to fill their roles of torturers. Jack, her boss, delights in fucking her in the ass, though he is not exclusively dedicated to this manner of making it. Bella, her sister, is sadistically oriented, finding most of her pleasure from inflicting punishment on her helpless sister-though she too can swing with the best of them.

Taken altogether, these three pieces make up a fine collection of erotic, secretarial tales, worthy of being a part of anyone's collection.

-Dale Koby, A.B., M.A. Atlanta, Georgia April, 1968

THE DIARY OF A FRENCH STENOGRAPHER I am a young stenographer, My age is just eighteen. And I will frankly tell you Of the things I have done and seen. The men have always called me A very pretty girl. They say my form is perfect; My mother called me Pearl. My first job was in a garden, And I was greatly pleased. I left it on the second day Because my tits were squeezed. I then worked for a lawyer, And this job was a cinch. I liked it very much until He gave my ass a pinch. I slapped a fresh old geezer Who dealt in eggs and cheese, Because his hand was working Too far above my knees. A doctor next employed me, Who had not much to do; But spent his time in flirting, And asking me to screw. A boy worked in his office, Who teased me till I cried; And boldly pulled his prick out, And jerked off by my side. A smart professor told me I was a shapely lass. I quit because he wanted To goose me in the ass. I tried a certain doctor, Who came up from the South. He often tried to coax me To take it in my mouth. I felt the insult keenly; It gave me an awful shock. I had to resign again Because I wouldn't suck his cock. I then worked for a preacher, A hairy little runt. I left because he begged me- To let him lick my cunt. At last I had decided To take things as they came; And if I lost another job, I'd have myself to blame. I saw an advertisement For a confidential clerk. I found a handsome bachelor, Who offered pleasant work. I came on Monday morning; I knew where I was at. He settled in a rocker By taking off his hat. The boss got down to business, And said, "I'll use you right." He pulled me down upon his lap, And then he held me tight. He pulled my skirt up gently, Just above my knees. He put his hand upon my leg, And gave a little squeeze. Along my lace trimmed panties His cunning fingers stole. I shyly spread my legs apart, To help him reach his goal. In just about one second He found my pussy there. I felt his hand a working There in my curly hair. He placed a cunning finger Into my burning twat. He pushed it in and pulled it out, Until my hole grew hot. Responding to such treatment, My cunt grew moist and soft. Love's strolling way lost no delay, But wanted to go off. He knew a trick of nature To fill my tender quiff, Quite full of juicy lubricant To help his gallant stiff. In answer to this dallying, Each part sent forth a stream, Until my dainty love nest Was filled with slippery cream. His other hand was plucking My shirtwaist clean and new. And in another moment, My breasts came into view. Those white and solid bubbies, He patted, squeezed and shook. The tender nipples of them then Between his teeth he took. He disengaged my short chemise From round my shoulders white. And as it fell below my hips, I knew he'd see a sight. The snow white hills heaved up and down, As soft and deep he pressed. They filled right out with fervent zeal; The nipples stood erect. Between his burning lips he took The tempting nipple of the left; And while engaged in sucking this, He shook the other heaving tit. I felt his body quiver, And I looked down to see, The cause of this commotion, And saw his cock was free. Its head had forced an opening, Like a knife when sharp and keen. The boss let go my nipple, And ripped the buttons clean. His noble shaft stood stiff and firm; It quivered and it danced. The boss jumped up with frantic haste, And struggled with his pants. In a moment he was stripped, And said, "Please do the same." I disrobed completely then, Without regard for shame. We both stood there naked, Like kids when they are born. His cock was big and husky, Just like an ear of corn. He made me pull his pecker, Which made it larger still. I raised his balls upon my palm, And got an awful thrill. I squeezed it hard below its head; I jerked it in and jerked it out. And it began to throb; I thought I held a rod. And as I pulled his majesty, He rubbed my swelling nest. It took but just a moment, To make him do the rest. "My dear," he said politely, "You've got it good and stiff. Now come and let me put it Inside your pretty quiff." He laid me on the sofa, And spread my legs apart; Then kissed my dimpled belly, And mounted for the start. He placed his head between my tits, Which I pushed down to meet his lips. He settled down to do his bit, And steered his pecker in my slit. Its lusty head now shivering, Was buried in my puss. He threw his arms around my back, And gave a dandy push. My maidenhead, it vanished; I did not give a damn. I urged the boss to drive it in As far as he could ram. Each time he sent it deeper, His tool would gain an inch. My surging cunt was stretching, But he couldn't make it flinch. I wrapped my shapely legs around His strong and brawny back. My ass I shoved up quickly, To meet his fierce attack. He proved to be an artist In all the arts of love. He drew back for an instant, Then gave a deeper shove. His motion soon grew faster; Oh boy, how he could screw. I knew I had him going, So I worked faster too. I nearly swooned with rapture, Because I loved it so. His big balls were discharging, To meet my maiden flow. We both went off together, And bliss was in that room. Our hot emissions mingled Within my throbbing womb. For some time we lay panting, Locked in each other's arms; Until I felt the drippings Of that wand of magic charms. About an hour later, As the clock was striking one, The boss set me on his lap, And sucked my tits for fun. I seized his big white penis, Because I couldn't resist. With rapid motions, up and down, I jerked it with my fist. His belly squirmed with every stroke; He wiggled with delight. I placed my other hand on too, And worked with all my might. This quickly did the business, And made his pecker swell. The boss was lying on his back, And I was hot as hell. This time I got above him; Inside my quiff I tucked The head of his enchanting cock, Then I worked on top and fucked. At first I moved quite slowly, To make the pleasure last; But gradually increased my speed, And then we both worked fast. I held my body higher To make him come to me. He raised his buttock quickly, And drove it straight at me. His greasy cock was sliding Between those ruddy lips. They opened up to smother it, While round its head they licked. I roused up all my passion; My ass I made it whirl, In short and rapid circles, Like any happy girl. The boss suddenly turned over, And he played a little joke. With arms around my belly, He gave my ass a poke. The cigarettes were lighted, And he played a little joke. He stuck one in my monkey, To teach it how to smoke. Before the day was over, I tried another trick. Between my soft white bubbies, I squeezed his swelling prick. I kept on squeezing harder, Until it had to spit; And then the sticky fluid Was trickling down my tit. I made my mind up quickly, To make his pecker puff. I swore I'd have it spitting, Until he cried enough. He stretched out on the sofa, His peter standing straight. He closed his eyes with rapture And I took hold the bait. I placed my fingers on his balls, His breathing soon grew faster. His belly rose and fell; I thought that I would yell. I tickled here and tickled there, I dallied with delight. His hanging balls I shook with glee, His cock I squeezed it tight. I twirled his prick in circles; I shook it to and fro. I jerked it up and jerked it down, To make the dew drops flow. I glanced down at his belly; It was a sight to see. A heaving in and heaving out, Just like a rolling sea. I gripped his pecker firmer; I shook his balls once more. He shot his ass up in the air; I held his dripping oar. The juicy stream rolled down my hand, And oh, but it was hot. The shiny head was spitting white; I thought it would not stop. I still continued jerking His great big popping gun. I swore I'd make him holler, And I had just begun. The juicy cream was coming out; His prick was shrinking fast. It doubled up and quivered, Just like a broken mast. The boss rolled over on his side; He really wished to rest. I took his jaded pecker, And tucked it in my nest. This time I did not put it in My tender vaginal; But kept it lying lengthwise Outside my drenching well. It lay there in the opening Of love's entrance sweet and fair. The balls were resting on my ass; Its head was on my hair. The ruddy lips enfolded it; They kissed its head so sweet. I threw my leg around his hip, To give the boss a treat. This opened wide my swelling cunt; It gave me lots of room, To slide my love-way up and down Against his noble spoon. His prick began to tremble, There in his favorite spot. Its size was soon enormous, As it moved within my slot. He threw his arms around me, In wild and fierce embrace. I moved my cuntie slowly; I knew there was no haste. The pleasure was unparalleled; My body thrilled with joy. This time I knew that I would clear The cock of that old boy. His pecker now gigantic, Was pounding like a boom. It sought to find that juicy hole, Which led into my womb. Dallying and delaying, I played the game of love. I slid my love nest swiftly, As he gave my ass a shove. I raised my cunt a little, And then I let it slip, Right down upon his pecker; It surely did the trick. A cock eight inches long he plunged Into my throbbing womb. I never hope to find such joy, As I found in that room. It was sometime later, That I released my cunt. The boss was really weary, For he let out this grunt. "You've gave my cock a lesson; You've made it spit with glee. You've cleaned it out completely; A rest is now my plea." At nine o'clock next morning I went back and it's true, That I was a little giddy, And itching for a screw. The gay old sport was waiting; He called me his darling kid, While he hugged me closely, And other things he did. He locked the doors and windows, And opened a bottle of booze. We drank and raised the devil, And did just as we choose. Of course it made me giddy; My head began to sag, But I stripped myself skin naked, And the boss stripped every rag. Reclining on the sofa, I puffed a cigarette; And spread my legs out widely, For my box was hot and wet. My knees were elevated, And thus exposed I lay. The boss looked at my beauty, And then I heard him say: "Your ass is fair and rounded; Your thighs are shapely built. Your cunt is well developed; Your hair is fine as silk." "Your cunt is like a rose bud, So pretty, pink and fresh. I sure must taste its sweetness, And suck its dainty flesh." He bent his head still lower, To gaze with sparkling eyes; And then his face he buried, Between my shapely thighs. The boss before me kneeling, Now braced himself in front. He gave a little shiver, As his tongue went in my cunt. His lips went in me neatly; He kissed the soft, hot meat. Far apart I spread my legs, So he could have a treat. My heart was beating faster; His nose was flatly pressed. His lips went to it hotly, As he kissed my cuckoo's nest. His hands upon my bubbies, I shook them to and fro, To keep time with his sucking And my excited nerves below. He certainly was a lapper, That very few could match. His lips worked fast, then faster On my warm and juicy snatch. Around his neck close hugging, My shapely legs were hung. My blushing cunt with rapture Was licking at his tongue. Then way up in my pussy, His greedy tongue was turning. My blood was set on fire; My belly, it was burning. A burst of smothered laughter From my lips shrilly pealed. My belly twitched and wiggled, But nature had to yield. The lapper was rewarded, With streams of juicy chalk. Right in his mouth I fed it; He had me going off. His tired tongue madly turned, And did a slippery stunt. His lips drained all the juice, That filled my creamy cunt. At length the boss rose slowly, And sat upon a chair. I saw his peter standing; Its size was something rare. Then he said, "My Darling, Did you ever play the flute? I'll gladly raise your wages, If you will only taste the root." I've heard of girls who practice The French unnatural vice; So I made up my mind To see if it was nice. The boss leaned back and waited; The new desire I felt. And so without delaying, Between his knees I knelt. In a moment I was busy, Within those office walls. In the most adoring manner I kissed his prick and balls. My fair white arms were clasped Around his naked hips. I took the head of his pecker Between my ruby lips. My pretty mouth just fitted Around his noble shaft. I drew out all that I could get, For it was very fat. My moist red lips were slipping On flesh erect and firm; And every time that I recoiled, The panting boss would squirm. I varied the operation And used my tongue to lick, The sensitive, throbbing head Of his enormous prick. The boss was passionate, And begged me to take more. I sucked that handsome hard-on, Just like an old French whore. He soon grew so excited, And grabbed me by the hair; And held my head down on it, But now I did not care. His cock in fierce commotion, Sent out a gushing stream. Instantly my mouth was full Of warm delicious cream. My mouth was overflowing, But that did not make me stop. I always liked the taste of cream, So swallowed every drop. I still continued sucking; His dripping cock went in, Until his balls were resting Upon my dimpled chin. At length my head was resting, And here I must confess, That while it is quite depressing I liked the French way best. Before the day was over, We both got down again; And tried a double header, This making number ten. The boss laid on the sofa; His legs widely spread. Reversed to his nakedness, I stretched over his head. His tongue at once got busy; My box was fondly tapped. My bubbies rose and fell, The way my cunt was lapped. He had a nice big hard on, The kind that I adore. I took its tempting throbbing head Between my lips once more. I sucked his cock with greediness, And licked till I was sick. The boss was pressing on my ass; He lapped my juicy quiff. I had his big stick working, As my cunt began to spout. His cock was spitting also, And I sucked in every drop. It was a great sensation Of wild and delicious bliss. The most fabulous fucking Can't thrill the nerves like this. When both were satisfied, He pinched my ass to rise. I had nearly smothered him Between my perfumed thighs. His cock is growing larger; My cunt is growing too. We spent much time together, Because we love to screw. My daily work is this: When both of us get hot, We go into a private room And practice sucking off. He is a fine old fellow; I love him it is true, Because he sucks my cuntie, And finds new ways to screw. I like to pull his pecker, And feel it growing stiff, And watch the spouting love juice Shoot forth from his big prick. And so my diary ended; I hope you have been pleased. And if you were lying here, I'd give your cock a squeeze. I'd demonstrate each lesson So you'd know just what to do, When some nice girl is waiting To teach you how to screw. But read this little diary, The points are very plain; And when you meet your sweetie, Just let her do the same. She will like to have you Strip her to the skin, And kiss her little cuntie Before your prick goes in. Rub her snow-white bubbies, And shake them to and fro. Let her pull your pecker, Until it starts to grow. Lay her on the sofa; Spread her legs apart. Let her hold your pecker, Till you begin to start. Let her make the motions, As she will quickly do. Hold your ass high in the air; That is the way to screw. When the pleasure is over, Kiss her juicy box. Let her hold your limpid prick, Until again it's hot. She will love you for it, And let you have your way, To give her pleasant lessons, And fuck her every day.

CONFIDENTIAL STENOGRAPHER

Dr. Folke Fitzhugh was a man who devoted all his waking moments to his profession. He was always seeking out anatomical pathology and his wife would often complain that while he was riding her and dipping deep into her vagina, she felt like a cadaver on which he was practicing.

One night, when he began absent-mindedly jerking into her cunt and muttering to himself, "If only I had sharpened this scalpel, I could rip along this seam and find out what obstructs the entrance," she rebelled:

"Folke, dear," she told him, "this is hardly what you would call an operation, and I'm not one of your patients. This happens to be a cunt, and it's hot. It's not very conducive to passion to have you act as if I were on your operating table and being dissected. I'm still alive and desirous, even if you feel like cutting out something and putting me back into your refrigerator."

He was called back to his husbandly duties by his wife's just complaint and went on shaking himself and her a bit, for a few moments, when he again bethought himself of the appendix he had cut out that day, and how he could have made such and such an incision. His technique was always a rapid one, and he was so immersed in his thoughts, that he withdrew his dingus just as she was about to have a hot orgasm. She clutched at his tool in agony and sought to thrust it back, but it served only to infuriate the worthy Doctor Fitzhugh, who seemed to think that somebody was interfering with his surgeon's hand. He pushed her back onto the bed and got off her saddle, absent-mindedly holding his cock as if it were a scalpel.

His wife, Mia Fitzhugh, sank back in her part of the bed, frustrated and quivering in every fiber. She was compelled, while lying beside him, in the full light of the bed-lamp, watching his hairy, manly body and strong, virile prick, so useless to her, to give herself an extra fill-up of masturbation in order to finish up the orgasm she was about to have. It was heart-breaking.

She wept loudly at first, and then, noticing that he was far afield with his thoughts, sobbed quietly until she fell asleep.

The next day she determined to do something about it. She could not go on in this way. If she spent many another night like this, she would become a frustrated female, nagging and peevish. She might, of course, play up to any of her old admirers, of whom she had many before her marriage to the worthy doctor, but she really loved him, and she reasoned that since such a step would have to be taken in secret, if at all, her spouse would never find out about it anyway, and thus her purpose in making him a cuckold would be lost. She realized that if she would make him more a man and less the savant, she would have to do something heroic, something that would draw his attention to her. And that would take planning.

She looked so sad and distraught when she met her best friend, Lotta Yentzing, a trained nurse, who had been Dr. Fitzhugh's secretary before Mia had married him, that the nurse couldn't help remarking, "Say, Mia, you look like the leavings of a Saturday night's screw. What's eating you. Aren't you getting enough these days?"

"Well," Mia replied, "to tell the truth, Lotta, I'm not."

"What?" asked her friend, amazed, "you mean to tell me that Folke is neglecting you? What's got into him? He was never like that in the old days."

"What do you mean?" asked Mia suspiciously. "What do you know about the old days?"

Lotta, who had been laid many a time by the ardent doctor when he had been an interne and before his marriage, colored furiously, and mentally castigated herself for being so incautious in her remarks. No matter how close a friend a woman is to another, she cannot bear to think that she might have shared her husband with her.

"Oh, you know what I mean?" she stammered, revealing her guilt even more by her attempted explanation. "Every doctor plays around with the nurses in his hospital, and Folke was no different from the others. I have been told by some of the nurses that all the doctors laid them, so I assumed that Folke must have been one of them."

"And, of course, you couldn't have been one of them yourself, could you?" Mia retorted angrily.

"I give you my word, Mia," Lotta replied hastily. "I... I..."

"Save it, save it," answered Mia savagely. "There is no use telling me any lies. And if he did lay you, it wouldn't have taken any skin off his penis, and there could still be a good deal more where that came from. Just don't make any play for him now, that's all I ask. But say, Lotta, that's not what's worrying me. Even another woman might not be the worst thing. It's that he has become a machine. A medical machine. He treats me like a tumor. Something he has to cut out. When he gets on top of me, I always fear he's going to put a pair of forceps into me instead of his prick. Sometimes when his balls come close to me, I begin to think they might be pills he's trying to inject into me. I'm beginning to get jittery about it? I'll get sick if it keeps up."

"Well, now, that is serious," said Lotta. "What's got into him? You must do something to take him away from his work and make him a little more sex conscious."

"Say," she said as a thought seemed to strike her, "are you still doing his secretarial work for him?"

"Why, yes," said Mia.

"That's it. That's just it. You must not do it anymore. You see, Mia, he's gotten so used to you as his office wife, that he brings his work into the bedroom, when he's with you. You must do something about it."

"You are not suggesting?" asked Mia, in horror.

"Exactly what I am suggesting. You must stop being his secretary and get him a confidential stenographer. And let me tell you, Mia, that you must get him one that is reeking with sex, one that will make his prick stand up on end and do parlor tricks. One that will make him want to take her there in the office and tear her apart. He must be so aroused, heated and roasted, that he will bring a sort of hang-over into bed with him. Then you will have a man, a King-Kong, Tarzan, whom you will have to restrain if you don't want to have triplets."

"But," said Mia bewilderedly, "what if he really lays her in the office."

Lotta looked commiseratingly at her friend. "Well, well, well, the wholly modern Mia Clapp has become a real wife, a jealous wife, and a very poor psychologist, let me add. That's carrying wifely selfishness to the nth degree. In the first place, Mia, if you really want to be selfish, you will make a temporary sacrifice, for his and your own good. And didn't I hear you say something about, if he did a little there would be no skin off his penis? You mustn't forget that passion feeds on itself. The more a man fucks, the more he wants. And then, perhaps the very fact that he thinks you know nothing about his philandering will make him more ardent when he gets into bed with you. He'll be nice to you as a hush-me-dear."

Reluctantly, Mia had to admit that Lotta had something there. It went against her grain to think that she would cold-bloodedly be a party to her husband's gadding about and having an affair with another woman, but in the interest of marital happiness, what doesn't one do?

"However," continued Lotta, "I wouldn't let him pick his own secretary. At least, I wouldn't let him know you were picking one for him. Just lead him around by the nose, in the manner any clever woman could easily and serenely do."

Together they mapped out a campaign.

That night when Dr. Fitzhugh got into bed and found a warm body near him, he began blindly groping in the dark and when he encountered a little hairy patch, he began to fondle and pet it and then sank his sensitive fingers into the open lips that were gaping to welcome them. He mechanically went over each of the parts of the open cunt, touched the sensitized lips that were thick and fine, with their tiny moustaches of silken hairs, dipped into the folded-back pink petals that were the inside lining of the labia or lips and rubbed tentatively along the dewy surface, until he encountered the inner lips, in the center of which he ascertained that the Mons Veneris, or Mound of Venus, was still there, with its lovely little orifice or eye from which he squeezed the little tear that gathered there. All the time, even in his stodgy doctor's way, he was getting hotter and hotter, and began to wonder if he wasn't raising a fever. He was about to get off and take a thermometer to learn his temperature, when his passion got the better of him and he began to throw off his pajamas preparatory to mounting this glorious little mare so enticingly spread out before him.

Suddenly he heard a moan. Thinking that perhaps it was his wife's passionate nature responding to his own importunity, he began to caress the bearded Little Lady. He was brusquely forced back to cold consciousness. His sweet little willing wife was moaning and groaning and holding herself by her little belly.

"What is it dear?" he said solicitously. He was not a brute, and besides the doctor in him awoke immediately, getting his well-cocked prick into such a scientific attitude that it fell limp as an old woman's tit.

"Oh, darling," she moaned. "I'm so sorry I can't let you fuck me again and again, just when you want it most. But I have a pain in my stomach. It's probably nothing but a little gas, and I'll feel fine after I let it out. But just now I'm not in a position to let you ravage me." And her voice was so soft and yielding that he melted with kindness for her. "And I did so want you to have a good time. I could feel your horsey getting fatter and fatter and beginning to rear like a war-steed. Here, let me pet him a little bit. Perhaps you want me to kiss him a little?"

The doctor was horrified. Not that he had never been sucked off, for as an interne, he had had many and varied experiences among the ravening nurses, who could fuck and suck with the best; but he had become steeped in asepsis, the doctor's code of cleanliness and it went against his grain to have his wife, Mrs. Doctor Fitzhugh, do what every good nurse would feel honored to do for the doctor she admired.

"Oh, no, honey," he told her. "You mustn't think of it. Some other time we will have a good time together."

And without as much as a by-your-leave, he turned over on his side and went to sleep. Mia gritted her teeth and had all she could do to keep from strangling him. Much as her plan had made provision for this possibility, she hadn't bargained with her own cunt, which little organ had made no bargain to be aroused and then be let down. However, she told herself, she would eventually cure him of this coldness and utter scientific attitude, even if she had to give herself a frigging with her own soft fingers to complete her pleading cunt. She rubbed herself up against his behind and heated up her cunt a little more, then dug her thumb in and frigged her clitoris. It was hot and uncomfortable, but it was better than going to sleep unsatisfied. She frigged and frigged until at length with a whoosh she felt herself come and her inner thighs were wet from the coursing stream of sperm. Bitterly she lay back to doze off into a fitful sleep. If ever she was ready to do murder that was the night, and she told herself that if she hadn't killed her sleeping husband that night, he would live forever, and she would never be tried for murder.

The next morning she did not accompany the doctor to his office. "I'm not feeling up to it," she told him. Reluctantly he went alone. The next day and the following she continued the treatment, until he began to complain that his work was piling up on him and that he couldn't keep it up, unless something was done.

"Why don't you let me get you a secretary?" she asked innocently. "You know you really need one and I'm tuckered out with the housework and all. I hate to do this to you, darling, but I really believe you need a good secretary."

He looked at her with astonishment. "This, from you, Mia, who always wanted to work with me and wouldn't let me get a nurse or secretary?"

"Well, dear," she told him, "necessity knows no jealousy. I think I had better concentrate on keeping the home fires burning. But don't worry darling, just let me get you a secretary. I know how you hate to interview them. I'll call up the agency and talk to the applicants they send over. I'm sure I can find one who will know her work, and I'll acquaint her with her duties, so that when she reaches your office she will fit into the routine so quietly, you won't notice that there has been a change."

Relieved, Dr. Fitzhugh readily consented. He was too busy a man to bother with hiring an employee.

Mia called her friend Lotta Yentzing and together they called one agency after another. They were busy that whole day examining applicants, and discarded one after another, as either too big titted or too flabby; too round assed or too flat-bottomed.

At last they found just the right one.

She walked into the apartment with a baby stare so calculatedly innocent, that Mia knew at once that this was a studied attempt to look virginal. Her dress was so puritanically contrived that nothing was visible above the neckline but a cool, white expanse of velvet skin. Her hair was mousey, looking as if at one time it had been peroxided but had been allowed to lapse to make her look demure and old-maidish. She even affected a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that were so phoney that the two women laughed to think this minx was trying to fool two old veterans such as they were. There was only one thing she couldn't hide and that was her swaying walk, her delightful ass-movement. Even in her out-moded dress she couldn't hide the lusciousness of the two globes that made up her rear. They were round and well-padded without being obese; and her ankles were a rare treat. They were absolutely perfect. Through the heavy material could be seen her well-modeled thighs as she sat facing the two conspirators.

"Now, look, young lady," Lotta Yentzing broke in on the girl's act. "Don't try to palm off any innocence on us two."

"Why, what do you mean, Madame?" the girl cried in feigned astonishment.

"Well, for one thing, let me tell you that we were both nurses and you can let your hair down before us. You're not innocent and you're not a virgin. If you are, then we are mistaken, and we don't want you anyway."

The girl was speechless for a moment, and then she smiled gleefully. "No use trying to fool a pair of old campaigners like you."

"That's better," said Mia. "Now let's get down to business. How many different ways of fucking do you know of?"

"What is this?" the girl asked. "Am I to be a secretary with pleasure, or without?"

"That depends," Mia answered. "What I am looking for is a girl that knows something about nursing, a little stenography, and a lot about men."

"But you said you wanted me to work in a doctor's office, didn't you? What's my knowledge of ways of fucking got to do with that? If I wanted a job in a whore house, I could get much better pay, with only a small part of the labor."

"Let's understand each other," said Mia. "First of all, let me say that this job will pay you a whole lot better than any two-bit whoring you might have been able to do. These are hard times, you and I know, and the men are not paying out these days as freely as they once did. In addition to your regular salary I will personally give you a bonus; the amount depends on your good work, if within a week you make Doctor Fitzhugh so hot, that he'll be raving to fuck a duck, if only to get relief. This job isn't going to last, but it will pay you a six-month's salary if you succeed."

"Well," said the girl, jubilated. "Now you're talking. Lady you haven't seen me work, but in my small, modest way, I have a bag of tricks - not to say a real bag - that will make any man jump through a hoop. And madame, I'll deliver the doctor to you practically intact. I know just what you're aiming at, and I'll give my all to the work. I'll soften him up for you so well, he'll be tearing your tits off and biting pieces out of your cunt. Just lead me to him."

The two friends were satisfied with her enthusiasm, but they wanted to see a sample of her work.

"Get undressed," Lotta Yentzing said. "Let's take a look at those vaunted charms. Maybe you're exaggerating a bit."

Nothing loath, the girl, Beta Suckin, she said her name was, stripped to her lovely hide. But she didn't do it as rapidly as it is here baldly stated. She was an artist.

Slowly and with a languor Cleopatra would have envied, she began to fumble with her buttons and leisurely she took off one piece of apparel after another. She lifted her arms to take off her dress, and the women were reminded of a strip-tease artist they had once seen. Every movement was a wiggle. She crossed her legs as if she had suddenly discovered that she was being watched, and then with pretended insouciance, she uncrossed her thighs, and she had nothing on below her dress.

The women gasped. This was a dish fit to set before a king. Tiny little golden hairs were grouped around a fat, sleek little cunt that opened and closed luringly as she moved her body. The lips of the darling little triangle were peach blooms, and pouted like a little girl in a tantrum. Her belly was flat and yet curvesome and her waist was a dream. It was not too thin and slender and it diverged upward from her belly and into a torso that would have shamed Helen of Troy. And the Venus de Milo could not have shown a better pair of tits. Her tight dress had done her a terrible injury. Such perfection was a shame to hide. These two glistening globes were as golden and tapering as two large, ripe pears, with two nipples that Marc Anthony would have agonized over, and sold his life to kiss.

She minced forward toward the women, now as nude as Eve.

"Well," she smiled. She had taken off her spectacles and put her hair back, and her head was as shapely as that of a Greek goddess.

Lotta Yentzing was overwhelmed. She could hardly take her eyes off the girl. "My, my," she muttered. "I wish I were a man. I know that if I had a big pole and a couple of eggs I'd be fucking you this very minute."

"Why, darling," she smiled, "you don't have to be a man with a pole and a couple of eggs to enjoy a time with me. Look, dearie, I'm not saying that a man can't give you a lot of fun, but did you ladies ever think that a couple of women might have a heck of a good time, rubbing bubbies and cunnies together?"

"Do you mean it?" Lotta was enthralled. "Oh boy, lead me to it. Come on, Mia," she cried, "let's get into this hen party. It promises a lot of fun."

With that the two women threw their clothes off, and Beta Suckin laid herself ass downward on the bed in the boudoir to which they had adjourned.

"Come on, darlings," Beta called, "we can all three have a time of it together. You, Mrs. Fitzhugh, get on top of me. Oh, let me call you Mia, as Lotta calls you. And Lotta, you stand by for a moment and bend over me, so that your titties droop over my mouth. That's it."

"Now," she continued to Mia, "spread your feet far apart. Far, I said, as far as you would if your husband was on top of you. And press your cunny into mine. That's it. See, I feel your little prickle, your mound of Venus, right in my cunt, as if it were a cock. Now rub it around my cunt. I always keep my cunt moist with fine jelly. It smells nice and makes it easy to get into my cunny. Now jab your little mound, or pistol into me again and again. M-m-m," she mumbled as she began sucking Lotta Yentzing's tit.

Lotta was gazing into the girl's eyes as into a lover's. Her own eyes were beginning to glaze with terrific desire. And Beta Suckin understood her want, for she inserted her hand into Lotta's cunt. Lotta was a big woman, and her cunt was large and cowish, with a beard two inches long, but her cunt was soft and dripping and the girl's hand sank into it almost up to the wrist. She twisted and squirmed her hand in that sweet, big cunt until Lotta giggled and wriggled and writhed like a snake. She cried out in ecstasy:

"Oh, boy, oh, boy, ain't this something," and closed her eyes in fever.

But Mia wasn't neglected, for while she was frigging and fucking the girl's cunt, the girl was feeling her lovely tits with one hand and with her other hand threw her leg around Mia's waist, hugging her nude body as if with a pair of arms.

The women sucked and frigged and sweated and strained, until as if with one accord, they all came together, and fell down on the bed, spent and weary, feeling wonderfully fit and picked up.

They slept in each other's arms for about a half hour, and then all of them rose, dressed and went into the kitchen. They were so enervated from their splendid exercise, that they drank coffee which Mia made with a zest they hadn't known for a long time.

"You'll do," said Mia to Beta affectionately. "If you can make us old, blase women feel this way, after only a few minutes, you'll pull the cock off the doctor in a short time."

"Oh, you can leave him to me," Beta said confidently. "I've handled his type before. If he doesn't fall, he's hopeless, and then you can forget him and come to me for some real pleasure."

That day Beta was hired, and she got into her demure and puritanical clothes once more and armed with a letter from Mia, she came to Doctor Fitzhugh's office.

The doctor glanced at her perfunctorily, feeling secure in the judgment of his wife, and told her in as few words as possible what her duties would be, then left her to look over the files and get into her white uniform.

He only muttered to himself, as if it were an afterthought, "Mia would pick out one of those homely, bespectacled old maids for me. I wonder if she thinks I'm passe', or something?"

He never thought, as one would ordinarily, that perhaps his wife chose a homely girl because she distrusted him. He was so immersed in his work and studies that he had shed almost all of his lusty young desires.

The next day Beta Suckin came to the office without her spectacles. She had done something to her hair. It shone with a fine lustre. Her dress was not something that came out of a bargain basement. It was short, coming just slightly to the knee. Her calves were encased in sheer silk hose, and her ankles were at their best. Her lips were etched in scarlet and her teeth smiled out engagingly from her oval face.

Dr. Fitzhugh did not at first recognize her. He thought she was a patient and began to usher her into his offices.

"Just a minute, Doctor," Beta said. "Don't you know me. I'm Beta Suckin, the girl you hired yesterday."

The doctor was shocked into another look. "Why, so you are, so you are," he muttered. "But what have you done to yourself? You don't look like the same girl?"

"Oh," she said with a smile, "a girl can't wear the same dress every day, doctor. You would want me to look my brightest, wouldn't you, doctor?"

"Of course, of course," he said, melting into a smile. "But you know, you did shock me somewhat. I would never take you for the same girl. You certainly are different."

"Oh, yes, doctor," she laughed. "I'm the same girl, but you didn't really see me yesterday." And demurely, "I hope you won't forget to look at me from time to time, doctor. Perhaps I'll be a different girl tomorrow."

The doctor laughed - and felt good. He hadn't laughed in a long time.

Then he reverted to the brusque doctor again.

"All right, Miss Suckin," he said, "I guess you needn't wear that dreary white uniform today. You are going to be my secretary also, so you may dress as you are. Let's get to work. You know stenography, of course?"

"Oh yes, doctor," she told him. "I'm an expert at stenography. I have many accomplishments, as you will notice."

He couldn't help smiling at the girl's complete lack of modesty. She certainly had confidence in herself.

Beta seated herself opposite Dr. Fitzhugh, and lifted her infinitesimal skirt just the tiniest bit, just enough to show a delightful bit of skin on the inside of her thigh, where it peeked above her stocking top.

The doctor pulled his eyes away from that piece of snow-white skin. What was he, a kid, to be attracted to such an obvious tart? And yet again and again his eyes wandered to that inviting expanse of thigh. He wondered what it looked like above that section of skin. How far that expanse rose. His words began to wander. Angrily he shook his head as if to clear his mind.

"Now look here, Miss Suckin," he cried angrily, "don't do that."

"Why, doctor," she said contritely, "what have I done now?"

"Oh, you know as well as I," he retorted, whipping himself up in a frenzy. "This is a doctor's office. I have work to do and you distract me."

"I, doctor?" the girl wondered.

"Yes, you. And don't keep asking such stupid questions. There's nobody else here. It's perfectly obvious to me that you know I can't keep my mind off those pretty legs of yours, so you keep baring your pretty knees. And every time you move, you seem to bare them more and more. Now, once and for all, let me tell you I know the human anatomy and I've seen legs like yours before."

"Oh, doctor," she cried demurely, "not legs like mine. You are insulting. Look, doctor." She deliberately lifted her skirt a little higher and let him have a full view of the full length of her thighs. "I don't mean to distract you from your work. But after all, doctor, you're a man of science. Such a sight ought not to make any difference to you."

"But it does. It does." He murmured angrily.

"But doctor, you don't mean to tell me that the mere sight of a pretty thigh arouses you so that you can't do any work. Why, dear doctor, you have gone over women again and again a hundred times, undoubtedly. Why, you talk about vaginas and clitorises and mons veneris thousands of times in a calm, scientific spirit, and now because accidentally I expose a little more flesh than is possible by design, you lose your temper. Why, look doctor," she teased him seemingly innocent. "I'm no different than any other woman whom you have examined. Just feel this, doctor," and she deliberately took his hand and placed it on her thigh, as close to her pretty, pouting pussy as she could without too much impropriety. "I'm a woman, and I have organs like any other woman. Must I remind you that one can talk to a doctor about a vagina, or as we say in every day language a cunny, and he doesn't feel embarrassed. Why, if I opened up my step-ins and let you look at my cunny, you wouldn't even turn a hair, would you? You would look at it scientifically, now, wouldn't you?"

"Then see, doctor," and she opened up the one button that kept her step-ins together in the form of a pair of frilly drawers, exposing her beating cunny. "I just want you to note that I have the same sort of cunny that you must have seen thousands of times. Perhaps my hair around there is a little more curly. And feel, doctor, perhaps it's just a little bit more juicy than the ordinary woman. But you know that there are times when all women are juicy. When they're in desire. And feel, doctor," and she took his hand and placed it on her cunny, "it's the same sort of cunny that every woman has, only mine seems to throb a little more at the present time. And perhaps you haven't seen such a nice pair of tender lips as this has. But you wouldn't be surprised, now would you, doctor? You know all about women. Their anatomy. You know that they have mammary glands, don't you, doctor? All women have mammary glands. You call them titties when you shed your scientific attitude, but they're glands just the same."

The doctor wasn't the cold, stern, scientific man any more. His dingus was behaving badly. He couldn't remember when he had felt like this. His mouth was open, his eyes distended, and his hand felt as though it were touching a red hot brand. He wanted to draw it back, but somehow he was as if magnetized. He couldn't withdraw it if his life depended on it.

And Beta Suckin was slowly opening her waist. She seemed to have nothing else on underneath, for as she leisurely drew down the zipper that kept the two sides of the waist together, a pair of lovely, ravishing globules fell out. They were works of art. Certainly the doctor had seen mammary glands. His patients, women, all had them, his wife had them. They were necessary adjuncts to every woman. They couldn't be women without them. But this pair of bewitching globes were not just mammary glands. They were tits. Tits, with a capital "T." They were tender, they were pulsing, they were velvety, they were glowing, and the nipples looked as though they would talk any minute and beg him to kiss and fondle them. He momentarily imagined that they were opening up and gushing with milk and honey. Oh! This was outrageous.

And Beta Suckin was smiling, but not with derision.

"Doctor, dear," she said softly, "you have seen titties before, haven't you. All women are alike. We all have them, haven't we? But tell the truth, have you ever seen anything like these before?"

She leaned against him, and his whole life-blood seemed to come to the tips of his fingers as he touched those wonderful titties. They were electric under his fingertips.

"Oh," he groaned, "I'm no doctor. I'm just a damn fool. But I can't stand any more."

"Oh, yes you can, doctor dear," she told him softly. "But you needn't. I'm your secretary. I'm your stenographer. I must take your dictation. Won't you give me some dictation? Won't you tell me to do something for you?"

"But I can't," he stammered. "I can't very well do what I want to an employee, a person who has a right to trust me."

"But I do trust you, doctor dear. I want to be dictated to. That's what I was hired for. And if I give you just a little bit more for your wages than mere lip and pencil service, that's my affair, isn't it? I want to do a labor of love. Love, you understand."

Doctor Fitzhugh was fit to be tied.

"Close the outer door, and put out the sign, 'Back in a half-hour,'" he told her.

"Why doctor, I've already done so," the girl grinned.

"You mean you expected this?" he asked delightedly.

"Of course."

Without seeming to direct him, the girl gently took him by the hand and led him to the settee in the office.

"Perhaps the operating table is more comfortable," she said smilingly, "but you don't want to be a doctor now, do you?"

"Oh, no," he cried, feeling like a giant in a rut.

"Now, doctor dear," she said to him, "you shall have the pleasure of undressing me and examining me all over."

He went to work with a will.

He almost tore her dress from her body, and laid her down on the settee. He fished in his pants and pulled out his pole. It was long and had grown to enormous proportions. It's head, swollen to gigantic size, was beginning to peek out of the prepuce.

"But, doctor dear," the girl smiled, "you won't have as much fun with all your clothes on. You won't be able to feel all the parts of my anatomy, except with your hands. You know, as a doctor, you have feeling all over the body. Every inch of skin is a tender, little finger, reaching out to touch, and why do you want to keep those little itching fingers encased in clothes? Come," she bade him, "I'll help you off with your clothes as you were so kind with mine."

She took his shirt in her hands and helped him out of it, keeping her body pressed against him all the time. She unbuttoned his pants, and drew them off him. Then she began to massage his testicles.

"These are balls, aren't they, doctor?" she said in pretended demureness. "We won't call them by their scientific name. We're going to do something that has no relation to medicine, aren't we, doctor. Look, how your prick gets longer and longer. And see how the veins on it stand out. Are you finding it swelling up? And the eggs, the balls, they are swelling and getting larger. My, my, but you are a horny stallion."

And the doctor was a horny steed, all right. He was so horny that he could hardly wait to throw her down on the settee. He seized her around the buttocks and began to squeeze and pinch her globules, feeling them in the palm of his hand, and then pushing his hand between the two cheeks and into the division between them. It was delightful.

His cock was pressing up against the satin, golden curls of her cunt, and she was dividing her legs for him, so that it stuck between her thighs.

"I'll rub them together around your prick a little, doctor dear."

She did that and the doctor began to drool at the mouth.

"Come, honey, lay down for me," he grated. "I can't get the real feel of your body, standing up."

She was used to dictation, this stenographer. Meekly she lay down on the settee and spread her legs apart.

"Now, doctor," she told him, "forget you ever learned anatomy, and that there's anything but a cunt before you. Use only your cock as an instrument and dig into me. I'll bet you find more treasure in this cunt of mine than an archaeologist can find in the tomb of Tutankhamen. Come on, doctor, make believe you're a horseman. Ride me. That's it. I'm a mare, and you're a cowboy."

"Whee!" the doctor yelled, as he rode her. His long prick dipped down into the saddle as he rode and went in till it almost reached the girl's heart.

As he bent forward, Beta raised her lips and bit his nipples, then licked them, sending a thousand volts or more of static electricity charging through his whole system.

Her cunt was a well. It was filled with an elixir that was smooth and exciting. It coated his whole pole with a covering of ooze. And yet it didn't help to slip his pole in without contact, for as he dipped his pole felt the prickles of her cunt-mouth and it delighted him to the point of an orgasm.

He felt his cock get hot and then hotter, and then all of a sudden he knew that in another second he would spurt. He felt her stiffen under him, her legs which had been around his waist grew limp, her breathing was heavy, her bosom was heaving, and her tits were jiggling. As he pulled his cock out a bit, he saw a white, thick stream shoot out. It covered Beta's white belly like a torrent. She was drenched in sperm. But she did not complain, for she too was coming, lying there with her eyes closed, her fingers clenched in his hair around his cock, her teeth gritted, and then she relaxed.

He lay on top of her, and then rolled over beside her, sleeping like a child. Everything that he had thought of in the past months was forgotten. His sleep was deep and dreamless. His body was relaxed. His cock had shrunk back to normal and his body was peaceful and calm.

He woke after a while, his eyes only half-open, and as if he had been in a pleasant dream. He had forgotten that this girl was just a stenographer and had remembered somehow that he was young again, and that he was married to the sweetest girl in the world. This girl beside him represented all women, she was his wife personified. He bent over and kissed her lingeringly. He murmured the name, "Mia" with a reverence and awe, as if he had suddenly awakened to the sweetness of all women.

Beta watched this and smiled. She was not angry at the use of his wife's name. She knew that she was to him just a symbol of what he had missed. She knew that she had saved him for his wife. That had been her duty. She might be only a stenographer, but she was also a secretary. It was her duty to help her employer.

The doctor was certainly grateful to her. He paid her the compliment of not offering her any money. He kissed her like a comrade and friend.

"I needn't tell you that this is entirely between us, little sweetheart," he said as the two dressed. "I know that you are a most desirable woman. You are the epitome of all that's sweet in womanhood, but of course, this mustn't happen again to us both. I'm a married man, with a wife who is just as desirable as you are, and has as much right to my company and companionship as you have - or will you forgive me, if I say, more - and I needn't tell you that I have neglected her shamefully. You have awakened me to my duties as a husband. I want to kiss you and thank you again."

Beta kissed him in a comradely fashion.

"You're all right, doctor darling, you're all man, and if ever any woman wants a recommendation, I shall be happy to tell her that you can give satisfaction like nobody else. But, of course, you won't need my reference. By all means save your future fucking for your wife. I have met her. She's a darling woman, and from what I've seen of her, a man must be a dummy not to find her as beautiful as any stenographer. She's in love with you and would give her life to satisfy your wants. Don't neglect her."

And Doctor Fitzhugh didn't.

That night when he came home Mia knew that her doctor was a different man from what he had been the night before, or for many a night before. There was something glowing about him that hadn't been there since the days when he was courting her.

He cancelled all his evening engagements. He drank his cocktail with her in a conspiratorial manner. He smiled at her and took her in his arms. She could feel his ardor through his clothes. His body was hot, so that it warmed her through and through.

He said nothing about anything unusual. He didn't even talk about his new employee, but when she began to undress and he helped her to unbutton and unhook her clothes, with a lingering softness and old world courtesy, Mia knew that he had learned his lesson very well, and that Beta Suckin was a good teacher. She stifled a jealous pang, when she saw how the good doctor began to unrobe himself in front of her, something he hadn't done for many a year. She went to help him, and such was the influence of lovely Beta, that he did not reject her aid, but actually beamed on her, and fondled her hands.

He looked at her titties as if he hadn't seen them before and when he put his arms around her and pressed his feverish brow against her titties, licking them and sucking the nipples, Mia knew that the girl had been a consummate artist. She had taught him in one easy lesson to be a man.

He gave her his cock to handle, and guided her hands as she cupped them around it. And when he spread her legs apart and got down on his knees and began to kiss the clitoris of her cunny and probe his tongue into the very depths of her twat, Mia knew that any money that she would pay the lovely little stenographer would be a pittance for the joy she was obtaining.

They fucked that night. They fucked and sucked that night. They fucked and fucked many another night. Their nights were halcyon nights. They were hectic and enjoyable.

And Mia never knew or cared that many a day in the office her knight in shining armor rode to the joust with his confidential secretary, for he never shirked his duties at night. No night was lost but her loved one rode again.

"Blessed be the confidential stenographer," she included in her prayers. Her life was full and her cup was brimming over.

THE AFFAIRS OF NANCY CURTIS

I had advertised for a stenographer and as I arrived at my law office at ten o'clock on the Monday morning following the insertion of my ad, I was rather dismayed at the response. At least thirty females, running the gamut of ages from fifteen to fifty, and the gamut of looks from repulsive to charming, were gathered in and about my outer office, many of them being forced to stand in the corridor.

Weeding them out was a task of the most unpleasant order, but I set about it with energy, taking them one at a time into the inner office for questioning. Some who were palpably inefficient and who quoted to me glibly the names of a dozen or two places where they had worked in the past year, I got rid of in a hurry and they flounced out, evidently pitying a man so blind to their abilities. Elderly or unattractive women were sidetracked, because I liked pleasant, sweet faces and winning ways although I admit freely that the charms have little bearing on efficient service.

Flappers of all varieties, who counted evidently upon their sensual appeal to land the job were also ousted from the list, although, not always summarily. I found a certain pleasure in observing the tactics whereby they sought to overwhelm me. Several of these girls evidently counted much upon the effect of sheer, low cut waists and of swelling busts, with pouting nipples projecting under the light fabrics. Others, possibly not so well provided above, trusted to shapely nether limbs arrayed in silk stockings rolled, in most cases, well below the round knees. Several crossed their legs with such unnecessary exposure of bare skin that it was obviously done for effect. One rather pretty little blonde girl was so profuse in bestowing this favor that, catching no doubt in my eyes the glint of interest aroused by her bare pink knees, she deliberately, as I turned for an instant to my desk, placed one ankle on the other knee as if to adjust the clasp of her little shoe. As her skirt was only knee length, I had, upon swinging toward her again in my chair, the agreeable vision of a naked thigh throughout its entire length. She hastened to adjust her position, hoping to make me think my turning around had caught her unexpectedly.

I wanted no such flighty damsels as this, however, for while they might do very well as companions in a few hours of fun, they would hardly be likely to be of much use in a law office.

I had already interviewed a score or so and was becoming very weary of the task when the office boy admitted as the next applicant a young girl who entered shyly, in marked contrast to the rampant self-assurance of her predecessors and whose sweet, anxious face and wide blue eyes showed confusion at addressing a strange man even when applying for a position.

She was nineteen, she said in reply to my questions, and her name was Nancy Curtis. She had never had any experience in an office, for she had just finished her course in a business college.

I liked the manner and the looks of the simply-clad, brown-haired girl, who spoke quietly and showed indications of breeding. Interested, I asked more personal questions and I learned that she lived with an older, widowed sister in the Bronx, her parents being dead.

Regretfully, I told her that I was afraid I needed somebody with experience for the work in my office. With an expression that revealed regret but not the slightest trace of petulance, she arose to depart, summoning a smile to her pretty mouth - a brave smile that carved a dimple in each rosy cheek.

I was so attracted by the winsome, timid miss that I felt inclined to give her the post and then get some experienced girl to help her. I dismissed the thought, however, and tried to raise her spirits by a parting remark or two. I asked in a friendly way how she had gotten along at the business school. She opened her little reticule and produced two or three documents. One, her diploma, showed that she had received the highest honors not only in stenography and typewriting, but in secretarial work and bookkeeping. A second revealed that she had won a speed contest against several hundred competitors in taking dictation and a third that she had received similar laurels in manipulating a typewriter.

"Do you mean to tell me you would have gone out without showing me these things if I hadn't happened to ask you?"

She flushed as if reproved and murmured that I had said I needed office experience for my work.

Well, it ended in my giving her the position, with a fairly good salary, and she went away happy, to return the following day ready for work. With a sigh of relief I sent out word to the waiting host that the post was filled and went out to luncheon sure that I had found a pearl.

And so I had. From the outset her work was diligent, effective and thorough. She made mistakes, of course, being human despite her quasi-angelic nature. But she was always deeply sorry for any error and never repeated the same one twice.

She exasperated me hugely at times, nevertheless. She was so very subdued, so scared if I seemed a bit impatient, so anxious always to please me, that I had at times the feeling that she was like a little child of six.

My temper is uneven, and an occasional impatient word falls from my lips, often without real cause. If, in such a mood I addressed her curtly, she would flush and be so unhappy that I sometimes saw tears in her eyes.

Then I would be indignant at myself and yet all the more likely to flare up at her or at anyone else around me.

Early one May afternoon I returned from luncheon in a rather peevish state, and called the girl into my inner office.

"Nancy," I said - I had early taken to calling her by her first name despite the fact that I was only ten years her senior - "Where is the letter you were to copy for me? It should be mailed at once."

"You didn't give me an original, Mr. French, and I didn't know whether you would want me to search your desk for it."

"Nonsense!" I answered. "You ought to know by now that you should follow my orders and the orders were that the letter was to be copied at once. Here it is right on top of the desk. I am ashamed of you."

The reproof reddened her cheeks and tears filled her eyes. In my exasperation I was proof against her distress.

"Sometimes I feel as if I could shake you, Nancy," I flared. "I ought to take you over my knees and spank you this minute. What do you mean by weeping like a little child at every word of comment I utter?"

At the word "spank" she paled and shrank and my harsh tone caused the tears to overflow her eyes and run down her cheeks. She was speechless in her grief.

I had noticed the effect upon her of the word "spank" and a something awoke within me that made me long to put my unmeant threat into action. She was so soft, so yielding and childlike, that she fairly tempted one to torment her white flesh with blows. Could I get away with it? The yearning grew insurmountable.

I rose to my feet.

"Nancy," I said, "I'm going to punish you. If you don't wish to submit to the penalty I propose, you are, of course, free to leave this position. But I think it necessary to discipline you a little if you are to remain with me.

Breathless I awaited her decision. But she did not seem to be making one. She seemed to feel that if I punished her she would, of course, be punished.

Choking back a little sob, she asked shyly:

"Shall you beat me, Mr. French?"

"I certainly shall and this minute, too," I said with inner glee, but outer sternness. "I want you over my knee, face downward, before I can count ten."

I seated myself on a little sofa at the side of the room and held my knees together for the expected burden. It weighed upon them without delay, for the scarlet-faced girl drew near and stretched herself prone across my lap with face and toes touching the sofa at either side of me.

There I had her just as I had longed and yet, I hardly knew what to do. I had never beaten anybody and this yearning that I had suddenly felt to bruise soft flesh sprang unheralded from unsounded depths of my being.

I hadn't even considered whether I should remove or push aside any of her clothing. I knew though, that my gratification would be much subdued if I laid on through skirt and, doubtless, bloomers, and gratification was what I was primarily after.

With a somewhat shaky hand I drew up the blue georgette skirt of the pretty one-piece frock which reached perhaps three inches or beyond Nancy's knees to my right. I hauled this up clear to the waist and then pulled up the shorter underskirt. Silently submissive the girl lay, but I could feel her trembling in the middle parts of her person across my knees.

As the border of the underskirt passed three inches beyond the knee in its slow upward journey, the bare skin of the girl's exquisite thighs met my glance, emerging from the sheer silk, bronzed stockings. Nancy knew that I, like herself, loved pretty things and she always wore them.

The expanse of white, gleaming skin was of short duration for the damsel had on, I found, pink silk bloomers hermetically sealed, and only a couple of inches of nudity had rewarded any efforts.

For some reason or other the sight of those bloomers infuriated me. Perhaps I had hoped vaguely to find old-fashioned open drawers, with a slit through which I could see and maybe touch her bottom; or possibly I had yearned to find her thighs utterly bare, like those of many girls who wear the flimsy "combination" with their street attire.

In any event I took vast umbrage at the unfortunate bloomers, pretty enough though they were and, yanking up the underskirt to join the skirt at her waist, I began with no preliminary whatever to whack the plump bottom which so thoroughly distended the silk that both cheeks and the crack between them were clearly outlined. I remember speaking foolishly as I sharply slapped the quivering yet firm posterior. I seemed nearly beside myself.

"Nancy put on bloomers to protect herself, eh?" I said savagely. "A deliberate effort to protect herself. I hate bloomers. She knows I hate them."

This was, of course, utterly ridiculous, for the subject of bloomers had never arisen between us in the three weeks of our acquaintance.

Nevertheless my remarks caught between the blows with which I belabored her heaving, writhing buttocks, affected Nancy strangely. Between moans and sobs of pain and grief I heard her voice.

"Oh no, sir! No, Mr. French, I didn't know you hated bloomers. You never told me. I would never have worn them if I had known."

I stopped spanking her to catch the words.

"Then will you take them off now and never wear them again?" I demanded.

There was no hesitancy in her whispered assent and I lifted her to her feet. As her skirts dropped to their normal length, she turned away and, reaching beneath them, drew off the pink silk garment.

"Give it to me," I said extending a hand. "I'll keep it as a memento of the little friend I reformed. You shall go home this evening with nothing on under your skirts."

Nancy's face was flaming but her eyes were now perfectly dry although the lids were still pink from previously shed tears. I looked her deeply in the eyes and read there a little flash of joy as I used the words "little friend."

"Oh, if I'm your little friend, I shan't so much mind being beaten," she said, wistfully. "I do so hate to have you angry at me though."

I motioned to her and she bent to lay herself over my knees again. Calmer now, I began to temper my pleasure and anticipation with a bit of mental torment for the sweet, submissive girl who seemed so really fond of me.

"Nancy," I said. "You realize, I suppose, that I am now going to spank you right on the bare skin? Otherwise I would have left your bloomers on, wouldn't I?"

An instant's silence and then a muffled voice:

"Yes - yes, sir. I expect so."

"Well, then, do you mean to put me to all the trouble of pulling your clothes up again or will you haul them up to your waist and give me free access to your naughty bottom of your own accord?"

Again there was the slightest of delay.

"Good heavens, child!" I exclaimed.

Then two slim white hands reached downward and began to pull up the skirt and underskirt both together. Up they went, drawn by trembling fingers and I heard little moans of shame from lips buried in the cushions at the end of the sofa.

The lower parts of the white, shapely thighs were uncovered and I waited, struck almost with awe at the beauty of the limbs, for further revelations. Now they were bare clear to the crotch, rounded, swelling and covered with a skin like milk shot with blue veins. I could hardly keep my fingers from plunging upon the exquisite flesh.

Then, as if eager to get it over with, the shaking girl tugged her skirts clear up over her buttocks with a single jerk. That delightful display of plump round hillocks, the snowy flesh stained pink with my previous blows sent a tingling glow through all my veins.

Extended over my knees like a lamb given up to the slaughterer's hand, Nancy lay, naked from the small of her back to the tops of her gartered stockings. The flush that lay upon her spanked behind was pale as compared with the crimson glow of one cheek which I could see half emerging from the pillows, and even the nape of her neck was rosy.

I lifted my right hand and brought it down heavily, fingers extended, upon the soft, firm flesh of her right buttock. It must have smarted horribly, for the smack of the blow resounded through the room like a miniature pistol shot. But the girl uttered no outcry, though the hands lying at her sides clenched into little fists and she buried her face deeper in the pillows. I smote her again and still she kept silent.

I feared no interlopers for I had allowed the office boy to go that afternoon to a ball game and my office, looking out over the Battery to the Statue of Liberty from the sixteenth floor of the building was so located that observers or hearers of the scene were almost impossible. I decided to make my victim converse.

"Nancy," I said, "you know that I am chastising you only for your own good, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," came a subdued whisper, as I feasted my eyes upon the two vivid red marks overlying the pink glow upon her buttocks.

I dashed my palm down with a resounding smack upon the outside curve of her right cheek. This time the girl moaned and the two buttocks pressed downward upon my lap so that my inflamed and rigid organ distinctly felt and enjoyed the soft caress. Then they rose again as if to meet the next dreaded blow.

"And you know that if I wasn't fond of you I wouldn't take this trouble, don't you?"

As I spoke the last remark I struck hard at the outside of her left buttock. I was all aglow with lust and with perverse joy in making the delightful girl suffer. It seemed to me that I had discovered the greatest pleasure on earth.

Once more the reddened cushions pressed together so that the valley between became nothing but a narrow line to the eye and the belly descended in that writhing pressure that overjoyed my imprisoned penis. Stifling her moans, Nancy raised her head, even while the blow still tortured her, to answer me.

"Oh, Mr. French, it makes me so happy to hear you say you are fond of me. I can suffer anything if you feel that way. And I will mind you always and try to be good."

"That's the way I like to hear my little secretary talk," I said. I felt clearly that this young girl had touched my heart. In fact I realized that from the very first day her winsomeness, her occasional gaiety, her pretty face and twinkling dimples had aroused my fondness. Yet, odd as it appeared, I desired to hurt and humiliate her.

"You shall have only two blows more, Nancy. I will apply them with this twig."

Reaching to the desk only a few feet away I withdrew from a vase a spray of apple blossoms which Nancy had brought to me that morning. That her gift should be used to torment her had hardly crossed her mind or mine. I wrenched off the largest twig and stripped it of blossoms and leaves. It made a respectable little whip about ten inches in length and it stung as I tried it out on my left palm.

"For these two blows, Nancy," I said, "I want you - you must be very obedient now, mind you - I want you to hold the cheeks of your bottom as far apart as you can so that I can strike right in the valley."

I spoke firmly. It was utterly disgraceful to ask this modest young girl to expose herself thus in the most shameful and private of regions, to say nothing of hitting her there.

But I wanted to put her to this terrible humiliation and to force her to acquiesce and assist in it.

I could hardly realize that it was I who was speaking - I, who had always been esteemed a kindly man, even if irritable. But this babyish, beautiful creature tempted me to cruel indulgence by her very submission, by her affection.

I heard her gasp as the horror of my order broke upon her mind. In high agitation she tried to speak.

"Oh, please - please, Mr. French! I'd die, I think. I-"

I caught the faint words. For reply, I reached out one hand and laid it gently on the brown ringlets clustering on her head.

I patted them for an instant and she seemed calmed by the caress.

"Obey me, Nancy," I said.

Back went those shapely little hands and set about their frightful task. They pried the firm hills of red-tinged snow apart and laid open to my eyes all the delicate region between. I bent low and surveyed the soft white gully, my glance browsing in delight upon the wee pink orifice at the end of the lane.

Bending toward the right so as to be able to strike directly along the valley, I raised the little whip and brought it down with considerable force on the tender flesh. A groan of pain burst from my docile victim and as I lashed her in the same place with a second blow she sobbed aloud, shrinked and quivering, while her hands deserted their post.

"Pull them apart again at once, Nancy," I ordered. I wanted to see the effect of my blows - and I wanted - I wanted more. I was highly agitated by the view I had had of that tiny wrinkled opening between her buttocks.

As she again convulsively drew her bottom cheeks apart I said:

"For your daring to let go before I told you, you shall have two blows with the tip of this rod right on that pink little spot I can see. Hold steady now."

Aiming carefully, I brought the point of the switch down sharply on the anal opening. She flinched but still kept her buttocks yawning widely as I repeated the blow.

Even now I cannot explain the irresistible beastly impulse that seized upon me at this juncture. I had been given, in my physical relations with women, entirely to normal indulgences, but that dainty spot, now burning from my blows, tempted me beyond endurance. Perhaps I had a vague, subconscious wish to share the virginity of the lovely girl. Even that faint self-justification did not arise in my mind, however. All that I felt was that I must have relief for the lust that mastered me. I must possess this dear little body. And I wanted to enter it by the forbidden way.

I knew that the action I had determined upon was not only forbidden but criminal in a case like this. I realized that if the girl should speak of it, say to her sister, I might well become the victim of blackmail or of legal charges and disgrace.

But I felt assured too, that Nancy was mine. Whatever I told her to do she would do. If I ordered silence over my torments of her, she would maintain silence even if other tortures were applied to make her speak. For she was of the stuff of which martyrs are made.

"Get up now, Nancy, dear," I said gently.

She crept from my lap to her feet and, although her streaming eyes, her sobs and bit-tin lips showed the extent of her pain, she looked at me with a shy little smile of gratitude for the endearing epithet I had used.

She sighed with relief as her skirts fell and covered her nudity. The relief gave way to apprehension as I said:

"Take off your skirts, Nancy. I want to examine the damage I have done and see whether a little salve is needed anywhere."

"Oh, couldn't I just turn my back to you and - lift my skirts if you - if you must - see me again?"

"Are you going to argue with me, Nancy?"

"No, sir, oh no - I'll obey." Facing away from me, she loosened the bands of her two skirts and they dropped to the floor. She stepped out of them and, naked now entirely from the waist down to the stockings, backed toward me in her modest anxiety to expose herself no more than I demanded.

I reached forward with both hands and drew her to my lap with arms about her waist. She snuggled there with pink face averted as my palms slipped downward and rested on the soft bare belly which I could have seen had I cast my eyes downward. My fingers touched hers which strove to hide the moss-enshrouded realm at the base of her abdomen. I did look down there and saw the white shafts of her lovely round thighs, looking even fairer than white satin against my dark trousers.

"You are hurting me, Nancy, did you know it?"

An exclamation of dismay sprang from her lips.

"I - hurting you, Mr. French! Oh, how - please tell me how? I wouldn't for the world."

"It's not exactly your fault, dear. And yet it is partly your fault, for being so winsome and so sweet. You have given me a little ache somewhere by the sight of part of your beautiful body and by the pressure I feel this minute somewhere."

Bewildered, the girl raised to mine her blue eyes. Astounding as such innocence and ignorance may appear in New York City in this period of sophisticated young persons, she had not the vaguest notion of my meaning.

"But you can relieve the ache, Nancy. Will you?"

"What must I do, Mr. French? Oh tell me how, please."

"I'll show you how. But you must do just what I tell you."

Rising to my feet with my soft, half naked burden I put her on her feet and contemplated her from the rear with the most intense enjoyment. Just below her blouse, under which I had tucked the projecting hem of her little muslin undershirt, was the white expanse of the lower part of her back, broadening from the slender waist to the hips. Beneath lay the reddened round cushions of her beaten backside and then the lovely tempting, snowy thighs, decreasing in size until they were lost in the silk stockings. She felt my sensual gaze and seemed to quiver as if affected by it.

"Kneel upon the couch, Nancy, and get down on your hands and knees," I commanded.

She took the position without a protest but a glimpse of her profile showed me that her lips were trembling and her blushes deepened as she presented to my eyes her projecting buttocks. She ground her thighs together in the attempt to conceal her intimate regions from my eyes.

I knelt and parted the rosy cheeks of her bottom until I could clearly see the little aperture I meant to attack. It seemed to taunt me with its tiny do, so wee in comparison with the monster I now proceeded to release from my trousers. I dropped the garment entirely and removed it in order to have my movements freer. Going to my desk I got a small jar of white vaseline and rubbed my rigid rod with it. Returning, I took my stand behind the agitated girl, who awaited an unknown fate.

I put my arms about her waist and laid them on the soft, smooth belly. Pushing aside the soft hands which Nancy laid upon her private parts when she felt my touch so near that region, I laid my fingertips in the silken ringlets on her swelling little secret mound, which I had not yet seen or touched, and toyed with the tendrils.

"You will not understand the need of what I am going to do," I said, "and it will shock you and hurt you too. But it is the way in which you can assuage my pain and prove your affection for me. Shall I go ahead?"

I wanted to hear her consent in advance, not because I any longer feared the consequences of my act - I was far too much influenced by lust to care - but a word of submission would accentuate my power over her.

She shivered beneath the touch of my hands upon her little slit, with whose lips I was now gently playing and also, probably, with a fear of the threatened shock and pain. But her trembling response to me came at once.

"Whatever you think best, sir. I want to help relieve you if I can."

Again I parted her buttocks and placed the hard, glowing head of my rampant charger Tight on the tiny pink clot. With my fingers straining at either side of the anus to open it as far as possible, I pushed hard, hoping to lodge the swollen head and so get the worst of her torment over quickly.

"I am going to put part of my body inside you here, Nancy," I said. "You must be brave and the pain will soon pass."

Her brown-locked head was buried in the cushions from the depths of which I heard stifled groans. I did not heed them in my overmastering passion, but bore forward as I felt the tender opening yield and cling round my entering rod. A little shriek came from Nancy as the head of the invader was completely buried and sobs mingled with her moans. She endured the terrible distention without a word, however, and as the broadest part of my organ was now well within and the stretching was somewhat lessened, she grew calmer, although I could feel her soft body trembling beneath mine.

I took my hands away from her bottom and again dallied with her sensual opening. I put a finger between the lips and softly rubbed her wet clitoris. Even in her pain she felt the touch evidently and it aroused her to a sort of sensual sympathy with my abominable act in the rear, although it shamed her anew.

As I pressed forward once more in her bottom and continued the tickling of her wee swelling bud in front, she began to utter soft, audible words.

"Oh, you're inside me in two places - am I relieving your pain? I do want to so much. It hurts, it hurts so, but yet - oh, do as you please with me! Hurt me more! Let me prove to you that I - ah, ah!"

The final exclamations were wrung from her as I buried my shaft to its full extent in her rear aperture and felt her yielding buttocks warm from her recent beating press against my flesh. Very slowly I began to withdraw the invader from the tightly clinging passage, the pressure of the walls giving me a bliss I had never known in ordinary copulation. At the same time I began to try more vigorously with her now throbbing and stiff clitoris.

Impaled and aching though she was, Nancy began to stir beneath me as I again inserted my rod, seeming to press backward to assist in its entrance. Soft sighs were the only sounds I heard from her lips.

I felt that the firm pressure of the membranes of her anus would soon draw me to the heights of ecstasy. I moved my organ more rapidly in and out. Suddenly the emission came and I gave a cry of bliss as I lunged my shaft deeply within her and discharged my dew in great jets in the depths of her passage.

The blood receded from the cheek that I could see in the cushions and the girl shook in a silent convulsion. Then with tremulous sighs and sobs of delight, her floodgates burst beneath the still continued action of my finger and she pulsed and throbbed in a violent spasm of sheer bliss.

All that night and the following day, I was tormented with the thought that I might never again see Nancy. Perhaps when the full realization of what I had done broke upon her, she would be too horrified to risk herself with me again. Maybe, despite my adjurations to speak of the matter to no one, her sister would notice how shaken she was and would worm the facts from her. Possibly dire things might ensue, for I had learned already from remarks let fall by Nancy that her sister, who was five years her elder, was by no means the yielding, childish creature that the younger one was. In fact, I had sometimes wondered whether Bella, as she was called, hadn't pretty well subdued Nancy who, I judged, was in some awe of her.

Therefore my gladness when my secretary-stenographer showed up at the office promptly as usual on Monday was tempered by apprehension when I learned that she was the bearer of a note to me from her sister. Standing by my desk and not meeting my eyes, she flushed as she handed me the epistle before even removing her hat.

As I began to read, my dread of finding anger and threats therein faded away at once. The opening lines breathed a spirit of friendliness, although we had never seen each other.

My dear Mr. French:

I hope you will pardon my apparent presumption in writing you, but I do want to tell you of my pleasure in finding that Nancy is in good hands. Young girls who, in the business world of this great city find firm guidance and supervision from their employers, are fortunate indeed, and I want to thank you for your care of my young sister.

I trust that her work will be satisfactory to you in the main. If she gives you cause for displeasure ever or fails to show submission to any order, please do not ever hesitate to discipline her. She means well, but all girls must be severely treated at times.

I was so happy to find that you had not awaited my word to apply a mild punishment to her. In examining her body, as I think it would be wise to do often, I found the slight marks left by your hand. Despite the fact that I have reared her like a mother and have accustomed her to obedience, she declined to tell me the source of the little inflammations on her skin, even when I applied a much more severe chastisement than yours could have been, and sent her to bed dinnerless and without her nightdress, a punishment which always disturbs and humbles her greatly.

It was, of course, easy for me to guess that you had been the author of the work and that it was your signature I read in the pinkness of Nancy's epidermis. It was also easy for me to discover that she was trying to be faithful to one whom she revered in keeping her lips sealed even under my blows.

I am glad that she is so fond of you, for it will make her easier for you to manage.

I wish to ask a slight favor. Will you please glance at Nancy's rear parts and take note of the effects of such a punishment as I applied Saturday night? I really would advise, if you will permit, that your blows should be applied, when you have to chastise her, with such severity as to mark her as I have done.

At the same time I would be grateful if you would examine all her attire from the skin outward and tell me whether you think her garments fitting for a young girl in the business life.

It would give Nancy and me great pleasure if you cared to dine with us Thursday of this week. To save you the bother of writing or transmitting a verbal reply I would suggest that one red stripe across my sister's bottom shall mean No and two red stripes shall mean Yes. I will look for such a reply when she arrives at home tonight and sincerely hope it will be affirmative.

Yours very truly,

Bella Olmstead

Utterly astounded by this remarkable epistle I gazed up from my chair at Nancy who still stood with drooping head before me.

"Look at me, Nancy," I said with a smile. "Have you got stage fright or something like that? You haven't even shaken hands yet."

Her cheeks pink, she raised her clear eyes to mine and extended a small hand to clasp mine.

"Now that you have possession of my hand," I continued, "can't you think of anything to do with it besides pressing it."

My blood warmed as the fair, pretty lass fell to her knees and pressed soft rosy lips to my hand. She had needed no further hint. Indeed I discovered later that she had always felt as if she wanted to kiss my hand upon arrival in the morning and upon departure in the afternoon. She now held the hand in both her own and her lips clung in a warm caress.

I withdrew it and bent to kiss her on the mouth. She paled but with evident joy, and her eyes looked deeply into my own.

I pondered upon that letter as Nancy arose to her feet and set about her work. Evidently Bella had not observed the fact that I had penetrated her sister's person, and that, too, in a most vicious manner. If she had parted the cheeks of that beautiful bottom she could hardly have failed to notice the inflamed condition of the little hole there.

"Nancy," I said, "do you know what your sister has written me?"

"No sir. She didn't tell me.

"Well, she thinks I failed to punish you hard enough on Saturday."

"Oh, Mr. French," cried the girl, distressed lest I might think she had disobeyed my injunction to keep silent. "I didn't say a word to her about it. I didn't truly."

"I'm sure you didn't. But she guessed who had bruised your flesh a little. And now she wants me to look and see how her later chastisement has left its marks, so that I may take example from her when I thrash you again."

The girl flushed crimson and her eyes fell, but she was silent.

"And another thing she asks too," I went to pretending to consult the letter, "is that I shall examine all your clothing to see whether I think it is the proper garb for a young business worker."

"Oh sir," whispered Nancy. "All of my clothing?"

"Yes," I replied, "and I think she is quite right. I should know how my little secretary is dressed. You see, I know better than you or your sister just what is fitting for business wear."

My grave remark met with no rejoinder but the little white hands clenched as the girl foresaw more embarrassment from which she could not escape.

"I will examine your attire above the waist first," I said, for I was eager to get at the torso of the maiden, which I had not yet seen, though her well-fitting clothes had revealed charming curves.

I locked the door to the outer room for, although the office boy was trained to always knock before entering, I wished to run no risk of untimely intrusions. Then I seated myself in my desk chair and wheeled about toward Nancy.

"Come and stand here before me," I ordered briefly.

As she took the indicated position facing me I laid bold fingers upon the buttons of the pretty white lawn waist and unfastened the garment to the waist. In drawing it over the round full arms which Nancy extended meekly, I bared dimpled, softly curving shoulders and a white chest down to where a dainty underwaist extended barely above the swelling breasts. This, too, I took off and the girl, in high agitation over her disrobing, confronted me clad above the waist in nothing but the soft fabric of a combination so gauzy that the pink whiteness of her body gleamed through the thin mesh.

For a minute I eyed the flushed maiden taking in all the charms of her shapely fine head and features, her graceful neck and plump shoulders and the two little hills of her bosom which rose and fell under her panting breath and whose wee nipples were visible, vaguely through the combination. Then I untied the little ribbon fastening the undergarment over each shoulder and let the fabric fall. Her soft fingers clutched at it in shame as it fell and delayed the denuding of the torso.

"Nancy," I said in a tone of reproof. The detaining fingers parted reluctantly with the fabric and flew to cover a flaming face as the garment fell clear to the waist. Nancy was nude from the waistband of her skirt to the curly locks upon her head.

A delightful picture she was; I thought I had never seen a more perfect body. The breasts stood out firm and perfectly round and the pouting virginal nipples were exquisite. Beneath the bust the figure grew slimmer toward the waist. The beauties so completely displayed to me were covered with an immaculate skin, its whiteness tinged with the glow of perfect health.

I was supposed to be bent on examining Nancy's garment, but thus far I had been too absorbed in contemplating her body to pay much attention to mere clothes.

I did now, however. I picked up the discarded waist and the undergarment and gave a cursory approving nod.

"Very pretty and quite suitable," I said. "This translucent combination is just the thing, too. We'll go a bit lower now."

In haste I unfastened the skirt and underskirt at the waist and pushed them down. The combination fell with them clear to her feet.

A gasp came from Nancy's lips and mine reechoed it. For the girl was now utterly naked before me to the tops of her silk stockings. She had worn no clothing whatever upon her thighs.

She shrank, abashed at the sudden complete disclosure of her nudity and her hands flew to cover the regions at the base of her abdomen.

"Oh, I - you said - you hated - bloomers," she tried tremulously to explain. "And besides, Bella told me to come this way today."

"It's quite all right, dear. Don't feel badly," I said, delighted. "But you must take your hands away and let me see you thoroughly."

For ten minutes or so I feasted my eyes and my hands also on all the soft sweet charms of the front of Nancy's person while she stood before me with eyes tightly closed submitting to my will. She could not conceal a shamed pleasure at my touches and caresses and was docile even when I forced her to spread her legs apart and to open the tight lips of her sexual crevice that I might look inside.

I found a morbid pleasure in shaming her thus utterly and she seemed to take a weird joy in sacrificing her deeply inbred modesty on the altar of her affection for me, although the strain it put upon her nerves was evident.

Finally I turned her about with her back toward me.

"Now I will see how your sister has maltreated your bottom," I said.

In incredulous horror I gazed at the swollen livid cheeks of what had, when I saw it first two days earlier, been the most lovely behind ever to fall under my eyes.

They were criss-crossed with deep red marks of a cruel thong. At the intersections of some of the streaks the tender skin had given way. Evidently since the blows had been administered, however, the buttocks had been carefully cared for, as all blood was cleansed from the scars and the wounds were healing healthily.

"Well, by gad, Nancy, you've been beaten like a little slave," I cried.

She was a little frightened by my vigor, for she had never before heard me swear. Indeed, though, I was for the instant too indignant to restrain myself.

"I can't allow you to be tortured like this," I went on. "I'll have a word or two to say to your fair sister. I'll tell her to keep her infernal hands off this bottom, for it's mine - mine! How does she think I can spank you or whip you when I want to - or use your bottom to relieve myself in, if she is going to put it in such condition as this?"

I spoke hotly, for I was really much incensed. Aside from my pity for Nancy, I felt that my vested interest had been infringed.

My indignation or my sympathy or my violence - possibly all three of them combined with the shock of my reference to relieving myself in her bottom - caused the overwrought girl to burst into tears. Amid her sobs I caught the words:

"Bella said - Bella said -."

"What did Bella say? I want to hear it at once," I ordered peremptorily.

"Bella said when you looked at my - my rear, I should show you the note pinned to my combination."

I plunged my hands into the mass of clothing upon the floor where she had stepped out of it and, attached inside the lower part of the combination so that it must have rested right on Nancy's little genital beard, was a brief note. It read:

Dear J. P. F.:

Don't be too indignant at the way I have beaten Nancy. I was angry, for she has never defied me before. The marks will heal in a couple of days more.

Meanwhile, if you desire to use her as you did on Saturday - oh yes, I noticed it, you naughty man - there is no need of refraining for fear of hurting her buttocks. Just have her straddle your lap and lower herself upon - well, upon -. You mustn't expect me to say just what.

Yours,

B.O.

Again I was all on fire and no longer the least bit enraged at Bella's treatment of Nancy. I think the perversity of her two notes and especially her advice as to how best to sodomize the bruised bottom of her young sister whom she knew to have been a virgin in thought, word and deed until her experience with me, inflamed me as much at the time as the lovely naked body of the sweet girl now sobbing before me.

I began to soothe her.

"Don't cry, Nancy dear," I said and rising, I clasped her under the arms to me from the rear, with a hand grasping each soft breast. I pressed my left cheek against her right one, which was wet with tears.

"Don't cry," I whispered. "There is nothing to be frightened about."

There was, however, for my rod was raging inside my trousers and pressed the cloth against her sore bottom as I held her embraced, bringing occasional moans from her.

"I am not angry any more," I went on in a whisper, "but I am - aching again. Are you going to relieve me, as you did Saturday? If you are, kiss me."

Utter silence fell. Nancy's sobs ceased, but she trembled in all her body. Then, very slowly, she turned the cheek which was pressed to mine around toward me until our lips met and, as I still clung to her naked breasts, she kissed me timidly.

I released her and rapidly disrobed save for shoes and socks. I would risk the arrival of a client, I decided, and if there should be a caller, I would call through the door that I was too busy to be disturbed.

Naked, I perched myself on a narrow, straight-backed chair and called to Nancy to come to me. She had observed that I was undressing and had averted her head but as she drew toward me now she seemed to be hypnotized by the sight of my muscular, masculine body, the only one she had ever seen. This was, she shyly told me later, because it was my body.

She did not turn her eyes from me and as she stood between my legs I took her little hand and put it upon my stiff, longing weapon.

"That is it, Nancy," I said. "That is what you relieved the other day and what you must relieve now. Can you believe that that big thing was buried in the tiny place that contained it?"

She crimsoned to the ears as her finger tips lightly held the tip of my tool, but could not find words in answer to my query. I had pity on her confusion.

"Come, dear," I commanded. "Turn your back to me and put your thighs astraddle my lap. That's it. Now lower yourself a little."

I put my finger inside the crevice of her bottom and very carefully, so as to hurt her sore buttocks as little as possible, I spread the lower part of the cheeks apart. Then, as she lowered her body, I put the tip of my lance, which I had oiled beforehand, on the tiny aperture of her backside.

"Keep pressing downward," I bade her and as the girl obeyed, I distended her anal opening as best I could.

Pluckily she kept at her task, sighing and occasionally moaning, but suppressing all exclamations until the entire head of the rod was buried within her. As she continued to push downward, eager to show her compliance with my orders, I could feel the shaft gliding steadily inward. Her pain was evidently much less than on the previous occasion, and as the invader was three-quarters inside I heard her suddenly catch her breath in a sensual thrill and realized that the internal friction was beginning to arouse her passions.

I placed my arms about her and buried my fingers with her sexual parts, thrusting one of them again into her slit. At that touch she gasped and bent her knees, lowering herself upon me until all my rod was inside her canal.

Now she seemed to catch fire from the flames that raged in my veins. So rapidly that she renewed her pain and that I had to steady her and slow her down, she began to rise and fall upon the shaft implanted in her bottom. The crisis overtook us in unison and she sank down resting against my chest and trembling in a lustful climax while my member throbbed out its joy within her.

Before Nancy wended her way homeward that evening, I called her to my inner office and made her lift her clothes clear to her breasts. Then, with no explanation to the girl, whatever, I laid upon her white belly with a little whip which I had bought the two pink stripes of my reply to Bella's invitation.

At the close of office hours on Thursday I had my roadster waiting beside the building and I drove toward the Bronx with little Nancy by my side. She was always a quiet creature but on this drive she was so silent that I made up my mind she was dreading the evening to come.

I felt no resentment at this for I knew well that the idea of having me in her own home was a pleasant one to her. I could only conjecture that she feared in some vague way the meeting of her sister and myself. Whether it was because she apprehended that Bella would gain such a hold on me as to oust her from her preferred position, or whether she knew that scenes would ensue in which she would play only an ignominious part was beyond guessing.

In due course we reached the little apartment house in which the sisters had a comfortable home, and I was at once presented to Bella, who received me so cordially that I felt as if we were already old friends.

She was a small young woman, shorter even than Nancy and quite slender. Despite her few years of seniority she appeared like a girl of her sister's own age. Her abundant hair, of rather a darker brown than Nancy's, was piled in an attractive coiffure on her little head and her eyes, lustrous and dark, seemed to have a peculiar glint in then-depths as we exchanged glances and greetings. She wore a dainty, frilly gown of a tea rose shade and, with her delicate complexion and fine features, looked very fetching.

Her opening words pleased me.

"I feel almost as if you were an intimate friend, Mr. French, and am receiving you so entirely without formality that I have even let the maid, have the evening out. We shall not starve, for the girl got dinner almost ready before she left and Nancy and I will put on the finishing touches."

Turning to her sister she bade her go to the kitchen, put on an apron and look after the roast and vegetables which were still cooking. As Nancy departed, Bella sank into a chair opposite me and smiled into my eyes.

"I was so glad to get so clear cut a reply to my note. It stood out nicely on Nancy's stomach," she said.

This was getting at the core of things in a hurry and I felt somewhat flustered. I recovered my poise and remarked:

"That was a wonderful idea of yours to make her carry messages between us in such a way. Do you know, Mrs. Olmstead, that I have a feeling we are sister souls?"

"Well, I think I may regard myself as in some sense your sister-in-law, at least, considering your rather irregular relations with my young sister."

There was no reproof in the laughing remark and she went on:

"But seriously, Mr. French, I think any constraint between us, considering the intimate glimpses of our impulses we have allowed each other even before meeting, would be foolish, don't you? Won't you please call me Bella? If I can overcome my natural shyness I will call you Jack if I may."

She smiled again and so I at her droll assumption cast down eyes of shyness, and hastened to ratify her suggestion of the use of our Christian names.

"I've been so curious, Bella," I said, "as to how you have managed to discipline and subdue with such thoroughness a girl who is very little your junior."

"Well, I'll tell you something about that, Jack. You see, when we were children at home together I was always the dominant one of the two and I used to enjoy thoroughly bossing Nancy about. It wasn't hard, for I think she was born to be somebody's chattel.

"Anyhow, I used to treat her as if she were my plaything and my doll and I think as puberty drew near me I got a distinct sensual thrill out of the process. She was quite afraid of me and never dared breathe any complaints to our parents.

"I recall so many of my childish pranks with her. Ever since I was twelve and she only seven I had been in the habit of taking off her little drawers when we were playing together in a field or grove and spanking her for my entertainment - often quite hard. She was slavishly attached to me in spite of her fear. In fact, until you came along, I feel certain that I was the only one to whom her faithful heart gave devotion.

"When I was fourteen and puberty arrived my sensuality became more clearly felt, of course. Then, in concealed places, I would strip my little sister naked and would handle her and slap her all over.

"Perhaps the tingling I used to feel in my just fledgling sex gave me the idea of using her to calm the irritation. One day, after denuding the pretty body, I took off my own drawers and putting her on her back on the grass and crouching over her with her head between my thighs, under my skirt, I enjoyed the sensation of feeling her warm breath on my privates for several minutes.

This became a habit which I improved on later by lying on my back with bare thighs outspread and making her breathe hard upon the lips of my sexual orifice, which I held open, and then finally lick it outright and in. It was thus that I, one fair afternoon, had the first emission of my life. By the way, so far as I know, Nancy doesn't yet know what that glorious sensation is?"

There was a query in his last sentence which called for reply. I held up two fingers in response. "Twice," I said, "the dear child has felt nature's balm flowing in the front to alleviate her pain in the rear."

"Oh, how lovely! How I would have enjoyed watching. What a wonderful, stupefying idea of yours to impale her - that way - from behind just as if she were a little bitch! Do you know, you horrible big man, that I spent in my little white drawers when I saw what you had done to her? There! That's open confession for you."

"I'm glad to give you absolution. I hope sincerely to make you spend again many times - in that way or another," I replied, inflamed by the conversation.

"Oh, Jack, I couldn't let you do it to me, not in there," Bella said. "But how I would love to see you stab Nancy clear to the quick in - in her bottom. Isn't it odd how her beauty and humility and sweetness make even those who really love her want to make her suffer?"

"It is indeed. Of course we must have a vein of cruelty in our sensual natures. But I didn't mean that I was bold enough to think of using you as I do Nancy. I only meant that I would gladly excite you again by treating - or maltreating - her in that way. Remember, though, that I'm at your service in all respects."

"You dear boy! What a nice thing to say to a poor young widow! You embolden me, though, and I like you already so well that I may let you give me a pleasure I haven't felt normally since my widowhood began three years ago. You're a handsome, winning brute, you know. It's no wonder poor Nancy fell so hard."

"Tell me a little more about your treatment of your sister," I urged, after thanking her.

"Well, things went on that way until I was married at eighteen. She was just thirteen then. I constantly denuded her and whipped her with my hands or little sticks. She was so sweet and pretty all naked. And I made her use her mouth and her fingers to please me. She always hated to do it but she was entirely dominated.

"As her little breasts grew I would pinch them and pull the nipples so hard, sometimes as to make her cry. I would make her walk across the fields nearly to our home behind me stark naked, enjoying her fright lest someone see her.

"Then, a couple of years ago, or so, when the old home was broken up by our last remaining parent's death, I took Nancy to live with me. Her martyrdom began again and perhaps somewhat enhanced by the fact that as a widowed young matron my sensuality was much stronger than when I was a mere girl. Nancy has undergone many torments but has remained the same sweet, innocent, loving creature.

"I whip her quite severely at times, as you have already been able to judge. I make her always come to me naked after her bath that I may examine her to see if she is thoroughly clean, as if she were a little tot who couldn't be trusted to bathe herself. Once I forced her to step into the outer hall entirely nude when we both knew a workman was repairing a gas pipe there. She suffered for days afterwards a real anguish over this, for she is naturally the most modest creature alive, and even now it torments her horribly to have the occurrence mentioned."

Nancy reappeared at this instant with an apron over her pretty gown to say that dinner was ready.

"You may get things on the table then, Nancy," ordered Bella and the girl withdrew. A few minutes later she came to tell us the meal was served and we went into the little dining room.

There were only two chairs, to my surprise. Bella motioned me to one and herself took the other.

"Nancy was naughty this morning and I am having her wait upon us at table as punishment," explained her sister coolly.

"You may get into your service costume, Nancy," she continued.

The girl's face flamed as she withdraw and Bella and I looked at each other in mute enjoyment of her shame.

In a few minutes which her sister and I had passed in enjoying the cream of tomato soup already placed before us, Nancy entered in an attire so seductive that I fed my eyes on her in joy. It consisted merely of a little white linen blouse and knee trousers of the same material. The garments were made of horizontal strips about an inch wide and about two inches apart, the strips being held up by a vertical lacing at the sides. Underneath the airy array the poor girl was entirely nude and her white skin showed in two inch strips therefore from neck to knees.

I was enchanted, and never had I enjoyed a meal more. I was somewhat annoyed with Bella for making the poor girl grovel so, but as the dinner continued I realized she was ultimately correct. When dessert was served my passions raged, and I longed to make little Nancy suffer once more with my huge prick buried to the balls in her tight little ass. Bella read my mind and suggested we retire to the drawing room, looking as she spoke at my rampant cock bulging significantly in my pants.

In the drawing room I sat on a couch and waited while Nancy brought in liqueurs for her sister and me. As she handed mine to me, I saw Bella strike her elbow, spilling some of the precious liquid on the carpet.

"Stupid, clumsy girl," she snapped. "You deserve to be punished here and now."

"Oh please," Nancy wailed. "It wasn't my fault. You... you hit my arm."

"You have the impunity to suggest that I am at fault?" Bella demanded, and her imperious tone thoroughly cowed the poor girl. "Your punishment will be doubled because of that."

Nancy's eyes filled with tears, and her whole body trembled as Bella stood up and quickly whipped off the scant costume her sister was wearing.

"Jack," she said, "since you are an integral part of this punishment, I suggest you get into the proper costume for it immediately yourself."

"And that is?" I asked, though I was certain that I knew.

"I need you as naked as she," Bella said, and at her words Nancy covered her face in shame.

Understanding exactly what she had in mind, I quickly divested myself of my clothing, releasing my huge cock for them both to see. Nancy averted her face, but Bella gazed admiringly at my equipment. Nothing seemed to upset her, and if she had ever possessed a shred of feminine modesty, it was certainly gone now.

"Jack, sit in that chair," Bella directed and I did as I was told.

I sat on the narrow chair and watched while Bella hurried from the room for a moment, returning after a couple of minutes with a large jar of vaseline. Without hesitation she came up to me and anointed my cock with generous amounts of the slippery substance, and I knew at once that I was to be allowed to fuck Nancy vigorously in her bottom. Bella directed Nancy to straddle me, almost as she had done in my office the week before, only this time there was a certain pleasure in knowing that my activities were being observed by the beautiful Bella.

When Nancy was in position, Bella knelt in front of me and guided my prick to the tight, tiny orifice the huge monster was to invade.

"Press down heavily," Bella instructed her sister, and Nancy lowered her weight slowly only to my rampaging cock. I felt the head press tightly against the sphincter and hesitate for a moment while she increased the pressure, then it penetrated with a soft 'plop'.

"Ooooh!" Nancy moaned as my hot shaft penetrated her bowels. "You're hurting me. Please let me go."

I put my hands on her shoulders, since her back was to me, and pulled her down even more tightly. She cried out as I went into her up to the hilt, her soft, pink buttocks resting on my thighs as I drove home. Holding her steady for a time, I cupped my hands over her breasts, rolling the nipples between my thumbs and forefingers until they were hard and stiff with passion. I knew her cunt must be dripping with passion by now, for she twisted and squirmed on my prick, evidently accustomed to the pain and possibly even enjoying it somewhat.

Bella began whipping her between the legs with a long, supple switch, striking the soft and tender lips of her cunt again and again. Though I could not see the blows, I could tell from the groans Nancy gave out that she was being well-marked, and I looked forward with pleasure to seeing the results of the beating when I had finished fucking her.

Suddenly I could tell that Nancy was about to come, from the increased rapidity of her breathing and the way her nipples suddenly got rock-hard in my hand. And Bella's next move surprised me.

She dropped to her knees in front of her sister, the switch forgotten, and buried her face in Nancy's cunt.

"Fuck her hard," she cried, nursing on Nancy's hot and hard clitoris. "I want to feel you come in her while I suck her off."

Bella sucked and licked her sister's cunt, using her lips and tongue skillfully as I raised and lowered the impaled girl on my prick until I could not hold back the scalding jets of cream any more. My spunk jetted forth into her ass with monumental force, and with a little scream Nancy came at the same time. My wilting prick slowly came from her anus, but Nancy had to push her sister's face away from her cunt.

"No more now, Bella," the sweet girl said. "I'm so marvelously well-fucked and sucked I can't stand it."

Bella got to her feet reluctantly and helped Nancy from my lap. My prick, brought into view as a result of Nancy's movement, was a shrunken, reddish little sausage, hardly able to inspire any passion in anyone.

"I... I..." Bella said, looking at me significantly. "Jack..."

It took me a moment to understand that this imperious woman, so used to commanding in everything else, wanted to be fucked and didn't know how to ask for it.

"You said it was not for me," I reminded her.

"But that was before... before I sucked Nancy off. I've never done that before, and I thought I would be able to come just from doing it. But I didn't make it. I ... I need something, or I shall simply go out of my mind."

I looked regretfully at my prick.

"I'm afraid I can't help you there," I said. "Not for a while at least. Your sister has a very sapping bottom."

"But couldn't you..." she said, still hesitating to speak her innermost desire openly. "Couldn't you...?"

"Suck you off?"

She nodded.

"I guess so, if Nancy will help."

"Oh yes, Jack. I'll help you any way I can," Nancy said eagerly. "What do you want me to do?"

When I told her she blushed scarlet but didn't offer any objections, so I placed Bella in position on the couch and kneeled over her, burying my face in her quim and delighting in the female odor that surrounded me. I began sucking with all the skill at my command, and Bella's legs began waving in the air from the frantic delight she was experiencing. Then, as she had been instructed to do, Nancy bent down and began rimming my ass with her tongue, sending lightning jolts through me that began to restore my flagging virility.

By the time I brought Bella to a screaming climax, my prick had begun to stir with renewed life, and I knew that the balance of the evening was going to be a thrilling and delightful orgy. Before I left for home, I fucked Bella in the cunt, took Nancy's maidenhead, and was sucked off by Nancy while Bella stroked her buttocks severely with the switch.

After that night, I made frequent excursions up to the Bronx for an evening of mutual pleasure with Nancy and her sister. We have spent a great deal of time devising new and exciting means of fucking, with the switch always playing an active part. I have grown quite accustomed to my sweet sisters and the marvelous fucks they afford, and I really would miss them if ever I should have to give them up.

NAUGHTY JESSIE

"Listen, Hester, I'm nervous. Sleep in here with me tonight."

"All right, I'll get my ... no! I won't either! I know what you're thinking about, you nasty little pervert!"

"Please, Hester!"

"I will not! Get the electric massage machine, or jack yourself off, if you're so hot!"

"Please, Hester!"

"What in the world is the matter with you, Jessie? Don't you ever get enough? You ought to have yourself castrated!"

"Please, Hester!"

"Oh, all right, all right, you disgusting little degenerate!"

Six weeks went by with Monty visiting me regularly, and week by week I found myself sinking deeper into the fatal fascination of the sexual perversion into which he had initiated me. I do not think he was responsible for the unnatural desire which was now dominating me, I think he was merely the casual and accidental medium through which existing but dormant instincts which sooner or later would have manifested themselves anyway were aroused.

Like the succubus of ancient Rome my sexual desires were now almost entirely concentrated in this one act. My inclinations for other forms of gratification were diminishing. Normal intercourse was only an aphrodisiacal irritant if it were not followed by cocksucking. I still masturbated to calm my nerves, but it was always with fellatio pictured in my mind as I realized the act.

In my hours of passion I felt an actual physical hunger for the spermatic nectar. It was as though it contained some vital, sustaining element necessary to my health and well-being, and the first taste as I perceived its saline presence in my mouth precipitated the wildest sexual frenzy. When it came pouring into my throat my own orgasm responded instantly, without mechanical stimulation of any kind. I no longer tried to spit it out as the hot waves laved my tongue; I drank it avidly, hungrily.

It is said that the cocksucking instinct is the heritage of children whose mothers while in an advanced stage of pregnancy, and because of the discomfort or danger of normal intercourse while in this condition have themselves resorted to fellatio, thereby afflicting the unborn child with the unnatural desire. Whether there is any scientific foundation for this theory, or whether it is mere superstition I do not know, but I feel certain, with respect to myself, that the instinct was inherent and artificially created.

Without any special guidance refinements and perfections of the art which constitute in part its irresistible allure and which en-ravish the masculine senses. Gently, softly and slowly realized, an orgasm effected in this manner sent the recipient, with few exceptions, into the seventh heaven of rapture. A soft, even suction, alternated with the teasing caress of an active tongue playing over the head and around the neck of the pulsing gland, supplemented with a slight up and down movement of the mouth soon had the object of these felicities groaning with erotic ecstasy.

If the subject was slow to reach orgasm, a more intense excitation could be induced by the use of the hand in addition. No normal man in a healthy sexual condition could long resist the luscious combination of gentle fingers and warm, wet sucking lips.

As the untouched chords of a harp vibrate in harmony with those which are giving forth their tremulous melody so did my own orgasm yield up its store of passion, and echo to the very paroxysm I provoked in another.

To Monty's manifest satisfaction the unique method of awakening him in the morning which I have previously related, became a definite part of our erotic program. I looked forward to it with a pleasant glow of anticipation, and the thought, implanted in my mind, caused me to wake earlier than I would otherwise have done.

He was a man of unusual virile potency, whose sexual vigor reestablished itself quickly even after the most enervating exhaustion, and he was always with an erection when I woke up. Slyly, cautiously, inspired with a prurient fancy to see how far I could get with it before he woke up, I bent my head over the succulent fruit. But in a few minutes my cautious, discreet restrain gave way to more energetic movements as my own passions took the ascendancy. And as soon as this happened, instead of a sleeping subject, I had one who was very much awake indeed.

Week by week I looked forward to Monty's visits with increasing impatience. My other patrons I simply tolerated. The lack of interest in them, which I could not entirely conceal, became apparent and before long I lost Mr. Thomas. Madame Lafronde commented on my sometimes petulant humor, and I told her I was tired of being merely an ornament, and wanted as many men as I could get, like the other girls. Some of these, the more attractive, often had three or four different men in a single night. She was reluctant to change the existing order, and evaded my request by telling me she would think it over.

I know she felt that I was more valuable as an "inspirational" attraction, and that she feared the complications and ill-humor which would inevitably arise when my younger and fresher charms were used to lure the fish from the less attractive bait. Maybe, too, she was aware of or suspected my recently developed cocksucking proclivities, for little escaped her shrewd old eye and if so, no one better than she knew what this would do to the peace and tranquility of the house once the girls whose clientele I usurped discovered my technique.

In fairness to my sisters in vice, I will say that to most of them fellatio is abhorrent and practiced only under duress or the pressure of necessity when fading physical attractions render them unfit to compete on an even basis with younger rivals. Sacrifices must be made to compensate advancing years and shrunken breasts.

Girls who are alert, good looking, and possessed of attractive bodies do not need to practice fellatio to hold a clientele. But men are quick to take advantage of any weakness and if the caress be obtained once, either by duress or persuasion or voluntary indulgence it is extremely difficult to evade further demands.

Monty's confidence to me regarding his conjugal unhappiness and differences became more and more candid. Wrapped up in the lewd fascination which the man held for me, I gave no thought to the fact that only a bounder and a cad would have made his wife the subject of such intimate confidence to a whore, regardless of what personal differences may have existed between them.

He had explained the origin and significance of some long scratches down the side of his face, administered by his wife's agile fingers when he had tried to force her. And subsequently, there was a big, blue lump on one of his shins, the result of a well placed kick received while trying to impose unwanted attention on her.

"Wait till she's undressed next time," I commented viciously, "or did you have her like me, with just her shoes and stockings on?"

He laughed cynically.

"I'd have to chloroform her first to see her naked!"

Apparently, some disagreement of two or three year's standing had arisen between them, and she had consistently and determinedly repulsed all amorous advances since then. Picturing her in my mind as I did, an embittered, shrewish woman, I could not for the life of me understand how he was able to feel any desire toward her. But men are contrary brutes, and to make them want something desperately you have only to prohibit it. She didn't want him to fuck her, and presto, the wish to do so was never out of his mind.

These confidences affected me in a peculiar way. I wasn't in love with Monty in the true sense of the word, but when he told me such things I felt twinges of jealousy. It annoyed me that he should perversely want to do it with her. So distorted can one's perspective become that his inordinate desire to fuck the unfortunate woman inspired me with a feeling of personal animosity against her.

At first he had seemed to accept the situation with good natured indifference, but lately I had perceived an undercurrent of bitterness and vindictiveness.

"Have you ever read De Maupassant?" he asked one night, after having told me of some domestic disagreement.

"No," I answered. "I heard of him, but I never read his stories. Why?"

"Well, among them is one with an idea I'd like to apply to her with certain variations."

"Tell me about it."

"The story is too long to repeat, but the essence of it is this: A young French noblewoman discovers that her husband is unfaithful to her. She decides to revenge his disloyalty in a manner as startling as it is unique. She hires some ruffians to enter the house and bind and gag him securely. When this is done she has him placed behind some curtains in her boudoir where he will, perforce, be obliged to witness all that transpires within the room, but without being able to move or interfere.

"Then she calls an old servant who has served her all her life, and gives her some instructions. Following these instructions the old woman, after wandering about the streets for a time, accosts a young man of genteel appearance, and getting his ear, asks him whether he would appreciate an amorous rendezvous with a young and beautiful woman of nobility sufficiently to bind himself to certain simple conditions, viz.: that he permit himself to be blindfolded while being conducted to, and thence from the assignation; that during the amorous engagement he lend himself unreservedly to all the delicate refinements of eroticism for which the French people are noted.

"The first condition being one of great consideration, and the second one which could be easily complied with the lady was as young and fair and lascivious as the servant claimed, the youth who was of a naturally adventurous and romantic disposition, did not hesitate long in accepting the mysterious assignation.

Whereupon the old woman signaled a hack, and when he was inside, blindfolded him and conveyed him to the lady's boudoir. Here the blindfold was removed and the young gallant found himself in the presence of a vision of nude loveliness which far surpassed his expectations.

"For an hour the youthful pair disported themselves with voluptuous abandon, neglecting none of the more delicate and refined artifices in which mouth and tongue play an important part.

"When the cup of love was finally drained to the last drop, the lady sprang from the bed and jerking some curtains aside, revealed to the horrified gaze of the youth, the securely bound figure of a man who glared at him with baleful eyes.

"What transpired later when the outraged husband was liberated is left to the imagination."

"A very interesting story," I observed. "Get me the book, so I can read it someday. But what has it to do with your wife? Do you want her to have you tied up and make you watch from behind a curtain while she frenches with some fellow?"

"Heavens, no!" he exploded, "I'd tear her limb from limb if she were to play such a game on me. But there's no danger. She's too prudish. I was tickling my face with quite the reverse of the plot in the story, thinking what fun it would be to tie her up, and then have some girl come in, you for instance, and do just what that French couple did, right before her eyes. Maybe strip her clothes off first, so she'd enjoy it more."

"What a horrible idea!" I gasped. "Why do you want to torment and aggravate her? Why don't you leave her alone?"

"She's tormented and aggravated me plenty," he growled vindictively. "I'll get even with her though. Do you know what I'd like?"

"Yes, I do! It's not a bit to guess! You'd like to fuck her, and you won't rest until you do!"

"Wrong, you little spit-fire. I'd like to find some way to make her so hot she'd go down on her knees and beg for it, and when she did, I'd tell her exactly where to go."

"Feed her some Spanish Fly, then," I suggested, dryly.

"By Jove! That's a dashed good idea! Wonder where one can get the bally stuff?"

"You'd better be careful. I heard a funny story once about a fellow who sneaked some into his wife's tea to make her passionate. He thought he'd better keep out of sight until it took effect so he went out and walked around the block a couple of times. When he came back he didn't see her around, so he looked in her bedroom. And there she was, on the bed, with her clothes up, and the butler on top of her. And the pantryman, the coachman and the gardener were all standing around holding their cocks, waiting their turn."

"The moral being that a chappie had better stick around after feeding his wife Spanish Fly," he laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Well, come on, let's get started. I don't need any Spanish Fly to make me passionate. I'm that way all the time."

Through the damp London night a luxurious car sped swiftly and surely, the soft purr of its powerful motors hardly distinguishable above the swish, swish, swish of rubber shod wheels upon the wet pavement as they flew toward their destination.

Outside of the curtained windows a macabre fog eddied and drifted, at times dimming the street lights with its wispy, ghostly vapors. Within, was snug comfort, warmth, life and color.

Had curious eyes been permitted to peek inside the glass and curtain shielded tonneau, a scene of revelry oddly, profanely, at variance with the dismal exterior of the night, would have been revealed.

Outside, the interminable procession of half suffocated lights vainly trying to pierce the gray shroud which drew ever closer and closer about them; inside, the ribald levity of alcohol inspired abandon, the sheen of silken hose on feminine legs, flashes of rosy flesh as diaphanous garments fluttered in careless disarray above silk clad knees.

There were four occupants in the seclusion of the cozy, glassed in, and softly lighted tonneau. Two of them were gentlemen, modishly attired in the habiliments dictated by the fashions of the times for evening wear, and two of them were young girls, whose apparel, if not exactly that which would have been considered in the best taste by social arbiters, was at least beautiful and colorful. The gentlemen, regardless of their half inebriated condition, were patently at home in the atmosphere of luxury which both the car and their apparel suggested. The girls, had the imaginary observer surveyed them with a critical eye and taken note of the extreme shortness of their dresses, the rouge upon their cheeks, the exaggerated scarlet of their lips and their indifference to the indiscreet disarray of their clothing, would have been catalogued instantly as ladies of that vast assembly politely described as "Not nice!"

One of the gentlemen was Monty, and one of the girls myself. The second gentleman was another scion of aristocracy known only to me by the nick-name Zippy, and his companion was a young Spanish girl of saturnine but piquantly beautiful features, named Carlota.

This was not the first nocturnal outing I had participated in. Yielding to the influence of the magic wand of gold which Monty had waved before her eyes, Madame Lafronde had consented to this departure from the accustomed routine.

"I don't want to stand in the way of your doing the best you can for yourself, but watch your step, girl, watch your step!" were her final words on the subject.

Tonight we were to be present at the clandestine showing of some naughty moving pictures which Zippy had arranged for with an exhibitor at some obscure point far over on the East Side of London. After the show we would dine in the seclusion of a private room in a popular resort.

Zippy was a genial chap of very likeable personality. He was possessed of a humorous and witty disposition. His droll witticisms and antics kept me constantly laughing, and when he was half under the influence of liquor, he kept those around him fairly convulsed.

Carlota, whom I had met a few times before, constituted something of an enigma. Her attitude toward me was perplexing; I had always been able to make friends easily, but my overtures to her left her unresponsive and I sensed some coldness the reason for which I could not imagine. At times I found her looking at me covertly and imagined there was something baleful in the glint of her dark eyes.

Thinking that maybe she regarded my acquaintance with Zippy as a possible menace to the security of her in his affection, I was scrupulously careful not to presume upon the bone-homme spirit of the four cornered friendship, and still this explanation did not seem to fit the circumstances exactly, for she seemed peculiarly tepid in her demonstrations of affection for the good looking young aristocrat.

Tonight, however, she had apparently cast off her moody lack of animation and had entered into the festive spirit of the occasion. A silver-covered flask was being passed from hand to hand as the smoothly humming motors carried us onward toward our destination. Ensconced in one corner of the luxuriously upholstered seat, Monty leaned back with me on his lap. At the other end of the seat, Zippy held Carlota in a similar fashion. A supple, beautiful arm was curved lightly about his neck, and a small, piquant face was snuggled against his.

In the pleasant spell of a mild alcoholic languor, I watched him dreamily. I felt happy, contented, and was looking forward to a night of joyous abandon with no premonition or presentment of evil to mar my lightheadedness.

Carlota's skirts were up over her knees, revealing a brief extension of flesh which glinted ivory-like in the soft light and was accentuated by the black sheen of her silk clad legs. The metallic clasps which engaged the tops of her hose, holding them smooth and tight about her legs by means of elastic garters which ascended upward and disappeared under filmy garments, sparkled like jewels as the movement of the car caused the light to vibrate against them.

An inquisitive hand, lured on, no doubt, by the seductive disarray of garments, fell upon her knee and began an insidious exploration upward, its movements contributing further to the disorder of her clothing and the revealing of more ivory thigh. On the hand itself soon nothing was visible but portions of a white cuff, the rest of it being lost to sight among the filmy undergarments.

Carlota giggled nervously, and pressed her legs together, by virtue of which maneuver the invading hand was firmly imprisoned between walls of warm, living flesh.

With my head resting on Monty's shoulder, I watched this lascivious play with half closed eyes. What a pity I thought, that Carlota was not always jolly and happy. When she was like this, she was really beautiful. What pretty legs she had, too, so slim and graceful and softly curved. When girls had legs like hers no wonder men admired them. Mine had been like that when I was younger, but during the last year or two they had filled out, become more solid, more suggestive of maturity.

I straightened my own legs out and contemplated them pensively.

"What are you doing, Baby? Admiring your legs?" murmured Monty.

"No, I was admiring Carlota's and comparing mine with them."

"Oh, envy! Thy name is woman! Do you think Carlota's legs are prettier than yours?"

"Yes," I said candidly. "I do. Mine are getting too matronly."

"Bosh," answered Monty, and he plunged his face between my breasts and set me to giggling by blowing hot, whiskey-scented breath through the cloth over my bubbies. "You're just fishing for compliments, and out of pure obstinacy, I refuse to bite."

"The only time to properly judge a lady's legs," expounded Zippy solemnly from his corner, "is when they're around your neck. I maintain that Carlota has the nicest legs in the world."

Monty and I burst out laughing and Carlota jerked upright in pretended indignation.

"Oh! What an insolent inference! I never had my legs around his neck in my life."

"In my dreams, my dear, in dreams! A man has a right to dream anything he wants to, hasn't he?"

"No! Not such defamatory dreams as that! If you want to dream about me, dream something decent! And.... o-o-oh!... take your hand away from there! Stop! .... stop!... you're going to make me wet my panties!"

The sudden slowing of the car, followed by two long and two short blasts of the siren warned us that we had reached our destination, and Carlota, escaping from the fervid embrace, straightened out her clothing preparatory to leaving the car.

As it rolled to a stop, apparently in accordance with prearranged plans and in answer to the signals of the siren, the figure of a man materialized from the fog enshrouded night, to guide us to the rendezvous where the entertainment was to take place.

We were conducted to a room improvised to represent a theatre in a crude way; a few chairs, a small platform elevated two or three feet above the floor, and back of this, a white curtain. The projection machine and operator were hidden from our view in an adjacent room from whence the pictures would be flashed through a small round hole cut in the intervening wall. There were no other spectators present as Zippy had arranged for an entirely private showing.

The exhibition lasted for about an hour and a half, and consisted of several different films, some of them allegedly taken from real life among the Apaches of Paris and which ran the gamut of every imaginable sexual indulgence and perversion. Another, based superficially on the question of whether or not it is a physical possibility for a man to be raped against his wishes, had as its theme the sequestering of a young man on his wedding day by a group of jolly, fun-loving friends.

Snatched from the side of his bride of a few minutes, he is carried away, stripped of his clothing, and chained against a wall in an upright position with his arms elevated and his legs separated.

Under these undignified circumstances he is turned over to the mercies of a bevy of girls who with lewd acts, dances and other artifices endeavor to make him have an erection. For a while this modern St. Anthony is able to subjugate any erotic reactions and successfully resist the wiles of the sirens. But, alas, the flesh is weak, and despite his determination to withstand the impure temptations, Satan, in the guise of a beautiful young girl with nimble fingers, forces his cock to awaken from its lethargic slumber and raise its head in obeisance to the powers of Evil.

With this disaster, the battle is practically lost, for once a man's cock is turgidly erect not even the chaste determination of a Galahad can control its subsequent actions nor stay the course of lascivious Nature.

Raising her dress, the temptress turns around and stooping over with her hands on her knees, backs her round, white bottom up against the rigid spike. Closer and closer she presses, until the treacherous obelisk, following the narrow road downward between the plump cheeks, reaches and penetrates the natural haven between her thighs, and naught remains to complete the victory of Sin by the slow, weaving, circular movement of her bottom.

By hand frigging, by sucking, and by other lascivious arts the unfortunate victim is subjected to further depletions of his sexual vitality as the sirens, one after another, drain him to exhaustion, until at last his cock is reduced to a state of unconsciousness and inertia from which no seductive feminine enticement on earth could arouse it, and when this is apparent, the luckless groom is released and permitted to go on his honeymoon.

The entertainment terminated with a horrific exposition of a girl and a diminutive Shetland pony. It was incredible, unbelievable, but the evidence was there, clear, distinct and indisputable in the moving photographic reproduction upon the screen.

When the show was over we returned to the car, and half an hour later were at a restaurant where a small private dining room had been reserved for us. We enjoyed a nice dinner, followed with exquisite wines, over which we lingered, joking, teasing, and otherwise enjoying ourselves. After the dinner, we would part company, Monty and I going our way, and Zippy and Carlota another.

But it was very pleasant and comfortable in the little dining room. We were all in the roseate state of semi-intoxication in which everything is just right, and everything that is said, excruciatingly funny. So we dallied, telling naughty stories, rumpling each other's clothing, and indulging in all kinds of lascivious nonsense, while Monty and Zippy continued to drink until they had passed the half-way stage of intoxication.

"On an occasion of thish nashure," declaimed Zippy, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation, "ish an invariable, not to shay an inviolable cushtom for each guesh to relate in hish own crude way, the chircumstances and detailsh of hish or her firsh sexual experiensh."

"What he meansh," interrupted Monty, condescendingly, "ish: Everybody tell about their firsh fuck."

"I believe I.... hic... made myself clear without.... hic.... the necesshity... of an... interpreter!" protested Zippy with great dignity.

"You're half intoxshicated!"

"I resent that inshinuation! I insist that I'm not half intoxshicated. On the contrary, I'm half sho.... sho.... sober!"

"Shut up, both of you! You're both intoxicated! If you start any arguments, Carlota and I are going to beat it!"

"What wosh thish argument about in the firsh playsh?" interrogated Monty, scratching his head in perplexity.

"Oh, Zippy had an idea for each of us to tell about our first sex experience, and you interrupted him."

"That wosh a good idea. I mosh humbly beg hish pardon for my intrushion. It would be mosh interestin' to learn under what un-forshunate chircumstances you two young ladish losh your maidenheadsh. I nominate you to tell the firsh story."

"Oh, no!" I protested, laughing, "it happened so long ago I can hardly recall the circumstances. Let Carlota tell hers first. While she's telling hers, I'll try to remember mine! That is, if you two men will stop drinking. There's no fun telling stories to people who are too drunk to listen.

"I shecond the movement," interposed Zippy, solemnly. "Everybody lishen now, while Carlota tell ush about her firsh romansh."

"Ah," murmured Carlota dreamily, "Until now I have kept the secret of my misfortune and the circumstances under which my ruin was accomplished locked in the innermost recesses of my heart, nor did I think over to reveal them."

She paused, and remained pensively silent for a long time.

We waited expectantly.

"I was the only child of wealthy parents who showered upon me every care and blessing which loving hearts could devise," she began. "We lived on a beautiful estate in the country where the art and handiwork of man was supplemented by every beautiful and exotic creation of Nature. Close to our home was a charming wooded fairyland in which wild flowers abounded in bounteous profusion, and through which a little brook of clear limpid water rippled on its way to the distant sea.

"From my earliest days I recall with what delight I wandered through this miniature forest, listening enraptured to the lilting songs of the birds which lived in its green boughs, gathering a scented flower here and there, watching the big black gold bees as they skimmed the blossoms in their eternal quest..."

"Thersh too many birdsh and beesh and flowersh and not enough fucking in thish story...." growled Zippy, discontentedly.

"Hush up, Zippy! Let her tell the story in her own way!"

"Up until the time I was fifteen years old," continued Carlota, unabashed by the interruption, "I was as pure and innocent as driven snow. My parents had carefully shielded me from every contaminating influence; I knew nothing; I was ignorant of all the true facts of life...."

"Terrible mishtake parentsh make," observed Zippy, sadly.

"To that lack of knowledge, which I was old enough rightfully to possess, I ascribed the fact that my pure innocence was trampled in the mire of lust, and my fresh young girlhood blighted forever," continued Carlota, her voice husky with emotion.

Monty wiped away a tear, and Zippy turned his head to cough suspiciously.

"I shall never forget the day, it is burned into my soul with letters of fire. I had just passed my fifteenth birthday; I was a woman in body, but innocent, unsuspecting child in all else. I thought that babies were brought by fairies who left them upon the doorstep in baskets woven from flowers and vines."

Monty was sniffling audibly. Zippy reached surreptitiously for a bottle and succeeded in pouring himself a stiff drink before I could wrest it from him.

"Got to have some kind of stimulation," he protested aggrievedly, "thish story ish breaking my heart."

"I had discovered a limpid pool among the rocks to which the water eddies so gently that the sandy bottom could be seen through the crystal-like depths. Several fish inhabited this little pool and it was my delight to lie on my stomach and watch them swimming lazily about, with the sunlight, which penetrated the translucent water, causing their iridescent scales to shine with all the colors of the rainbow.

"It was to this pool I hurried that fateful day, eager to see my little pets, each of which I had endowed with an affectionate name. I had brought some bread with me, and as I lay there watching them dart at the slowly sinking crumbs, I was startled to hear a voice close by me. "Ah, little Miss Narcissus," it said, "does your pretty face enchant you so that you linger over its reflection in the water?"

"I looked up into the smiling countenance of a handsome young man who was standing there regarding me curiously. I was startled, but not frightened. I knew nothing to be frightened of. "No, Sir," I replied, "I was looking at some fish that live in this pool. They are really very beautiful. Their scales shine like rubies and emeralds and sapphires in the sunlight."

"So?" he answered, peering into the pool.

"You have to lie down and put your face close to the water to see them," I explained.

"Whereupon the young man, who was an entire stranger to me, accommodated himself upon the rocks in a position similar to my own, and together we gazed into the limpid pool while I identified the various members of my adopted family.

"His interest in the fish waned quickly, and he began asking me questions which I, candidly and ingenuously, answered without hesitation, thereby revealing to him my childish simplicity as well as my identity.

"I thought I had never seen so handsome a young man. He was much older than I, five or six years, at least. "Do you come here often?" he asked. "Every day," I replied, "unless it rains." And then, my curiosity overcoming my difference, I asked: "Who are you? You don't live near here, do you?"

"No," he replied, slowly, "I come from a far-off city. It is a secret, but I will confide in you for I see you can be trusted. You must never tell anyone!" I listened with breathless interest. "I am an emissary of the King. I am sent here to see that the animals, and birds and flowers are not molested. When the little birds fall out of their nests I put them back, and when the chipmunks can't find enough acorns, I feed them."

"Oh, how wonderful!" I breathed ecstatically, "May I help you sometimes? Some wicked boys place traps to catch little bunnies, but whenever I find the traps I throw rocks on them and break them up!"

"Quite right, my dear little Carlota (he now knew my name), I will be very happy to have you assist me in my search for hungry chipmunks, and if we find any bunny traps we will assuredly destroy them. You may meet me here at this pool tomorrow, but remember, not a word to anyone, not even to your parents. The king would be very angry."

"And thus, with a joyous secret clutched to my trusting heart, and in the happy anticipation of accompanying this wonderful young man in his search for little birds which had fallen from their nests, I ran home...."

"Mosh touchin' story I ever heard," mumbled Zippy, but...."

"Hush up!" I hissed, "I want to hear the rest of this story without any more interruptions!"

"Sure enough, he was there waiting for me the next day, and what a delightful time I had, wandering through the woods with him, exploring little glens and shady bosques where the vines and leaves were so thick I had never attempted to penetrate them alone. But it was easy with someone to hold the vines back, to lift you over fallen logs, and carry you across wet places where little green snakes might be hiding.

"There was a place where the brook spreads out, standing several inches deep in the lush water grass. Across this swampy terrain was a leafy hummock which I had seen from a distance but had never approached, not knowing how deep the bog might be around it. I pointed it out to my companion and without a word he picked me up in his strong arms and started across the intervening swamp.

"There was a strange, sweet sensation in being carried this way, one which I had never experienced before. It filled me with a soft, melting languor, impossible to describe. As he strode along, he shifted his hold to ease my weight and his hand, under my swinging knees, came to contact with bare flesh where disarranged clothing left it exposed.

"A gentle, tingling warmth began to generate there where his hand was supporting my legs, and an overpowering emotion gradually stole over me. I closed my eyes, and abandoned myself to the unknown, but delicious sensations, languishing, half fainting, oblivious to everything else in the world.

"My subsequent recollection of what transpired was dim and vague. In a half unconscious state I was dreamily aware that we had reached the hummock, and that he had laid me down on the soft grass and was doing something with my clothing. Indescribable ecstasies were being provoked by some mysterious caress between my legs right there where they came together, caresses productive of sensations so overpoweringly sweet that I neither questioned their propriety, nor even wondered how they were being effected.

"Suddenly the delicious spell was broken by a short, quick stab of pain. An involuntary shriek of anguish escaped my lips, but the pain passed almost before the sound had died away, and the flood of warm delight permeated my being and seemed now to be projected clear up inside my body. So intense were the sensations which were now being provoked that I fainted dead away.

"When I recovered consciousness with all that had occurred impressed on my memory only as a vague and indefinite, but delicious dream, I found myself in a peculiar situation. I was lying upon the grass with my head resting on my companion's folded coat. My dress was up, and my panties had been removed. My companion was engaged in sponging my thighs with a handkerchief he had apparently moistened in the brook. As he squeezed the water from it, I perceived that it was stained with a dull red.

"I sat up, and felt a twinge of pain, and an odd, swollen sensation between my legs.

I tried to stand up, but I was dizzy and weak. What had happened? Ah, my friends, there is no need to tell you what had happened. In that unguarded moment the heritage of purity had been snatched from an innocent, trusting maiden; she had been robbed of that priceless jewel which once taken can never be replaced; her virginal chastity was gone forever."

"That's very touching," I said, watching the two men who were still more drunk than sober. "But hardly as touching as mine."

"To hell with yoursh," Zippy said. "C'mon, Carlota. Le's go fuck."

"Go fuck yourself, Zippy," she said with great dignity. She stood suddenly and walked from the room. It was a moment before Zippy realized he was being deserted, and when he did he scrambled to his feet and hurried after the dark-skinned girl.

I turned to look at Monty, to see if he, perhaps, wanted to fuck there in the dining room rather than going to some house of assignation. But he had missed the excitement of the end of Carlota's story, for he was completely unconscious. Try as I would, even taking his prick in my mouth and sucking on it, I could not return him to consciousness. Therefore, I searched in his pockets for cab fare back to the house (and just a little extra for my trouble - contrary to what was said later, I left him enough to pay the bill) and went to bed. I knew he would call later, for he loved me to suck his cock... but he never did.

THE END
Secretarial Sex ....(61k)    by Anonymous




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