When Margaret Smith lost her husband during the war she thought it was noble to go to work as a nurse in a military hospital. It was then that her temptations began. Up till that time you could hardly say that Margaret had been spoiled in matters of love. Her husband was twenty years older than she, and had married in order to secure a somewhat egotistical peace after a stormy youth. This intermittent fatigue was converted quite soon into a definite rest and if Margaret hadn't picked up the habit of giving herself pleasure by putting her finger into her cunt, she would have been a woman to be pitied.
Margaret was beautiful: blonde, with grey eyes, and a mouth simply crying out for kisses. Whenever she got annoyed she bit her Hp and thereby achieved a certain satisfaction.
In the hospital Margaret saw nude young male bodies every day. She was attached to the convalescent ward. She gave them the jug to piss into and could not help admiring their magnificent pricks. She imagined them as they would be when stiffened by passion and shooting out spunk. The image was so powerful that she had to go and shut herself away in the nurses' cloakroom. There she took out of her locker a dildo which she disguised, as do all well brought up ladies, by keeping it in a leather bound box resembling a prayer book. She lifted up her skirt, moistened her index finger and drew the lips of her cunt open. Thus she could reach the button and fondle herself gently, all the time moistening and sucking the huge rubber organ. When the liquid of pleasure began to stream down her thighs, she thrust the long instrument into her twat and began to fuck herself, thinking all the time of some beautiful wounded soldier. This ended in a moan of pleasure, and in her lust she imagined a muscled stomach covered in nearly healed wounds all pointing towards a gigantic prick whose swollen veins led up to a rearing head, as hard as a pine cone and as soft, as velvet. She would replace her dildo in her false prayer book, come out of the room a little unsteadily and flush the toilet so as not to arouse suspicion.
One would rightly be astonished that, situated as she was among so much youthful beauty Margaret did not take a lover. But she was not the only female nurse and she feared observation and the mean scandal of a society which condemned widows to a lifelong sentence of the dildo until such time as they might be reprieved by a decent and commercially arranged marriage.
This went on for some time until a Negro sergeant arrived at the hospital. He had to be put into a private room since the sisters who tended the sick refused to care for him. Not, they said, because they were racially prejudiced, but because they had read somewhere that black men were savages and cannibals. They were quite ready to shed their blood for their country, but they were not too keen on being eaten.
It was sister Francesca, the eldest of the nurses who eventually took over the Negro, and she cared for him with a zeal which seemed suspicious to Margaret. So she began to spy on the sister.
Her vigilance soon brought its reward, and the young girl discovered, after stepping noiselessly through the night with her shoes in her hand, and her eye to the lock of the private room, how the religious old lady was distributing her time between the demands of her temperament and those of the faith. Sister Francesca rigorously avoided all the preparations which could possibly have given to her actions that intellectual quality from which sin is born; for we all know that sin is more in the mind than in the deed. She moved towards the bed and there, without saying a word she lifted up her manifold skirts and covered her head and her shame, much the same as the ostrich buries himself in the sand. In this way she presented to the view of the Negro a round little asshole which was still honest. And as far as Margaret could see, a belly covered with an immense brown bush. The Negro then pushed off the sheets and got up slowly. His long and terrifying prick seemed like a monstrous stick of asparagus, a black asparagus from Hell.
He took hold of it in both hands like a rifle, and then spat a thick liquid into his palms to moisten his glans.
He parted the buttocks of the holy sister and with a single flick of his hips bored right up her asshole.
Sister Francesca could not keep from crying out at this swift invasion. But she soon regained control of herself and, while the Negro drilled up her with a backwards and forwards motion, she moved her finger around in the hollow of her dripping cunt. She waited for the climax quite stoically, all the while repeating in a voice somewhat smothered by her skirts:
"Jesus ... Mary ... Joseph ... Jesus . .
When at last she felt the boiling spunk flowing into her body she screamed.
"Thomas ... Jesus ... Mary ... Joseph!"
Thomas was the name of the native. Then she stood up and adjusted herself; and because of her superlative humility and great repentance licked the tool of her lover (lover in the limited and recent sense of the word) which was covered in the mingled sperm and shit which seem to accompany most actions in this world below.
Under the influence of the good sister's active tongue, the prick stiffened again. Then the Negro wanted to fuck sister Francesca in the simple way that the serpent showed once upon a time to Adam and Eve. But she refused quite categorically to yield to him that place which she had vowed would be God's alone when she took the veil. She tried to explain her scruples to him, and to calm down his passion she pushed him gently back on the bed and began to fondle and stroke his prick.
Through the keyhole, Margaret could see the veins standing out under the dark satin of his skin. From time to time sister Francesca caressed the tool with a greedy tongue. But then she remembered that greed is a sin and that her confessor had forbidden her to suck barley sugar. She accordingly moved her tongue back inside her mouth only bringing it out again at the moment of climax. The Negro seemed to have inexhaustible reserves and she was frightened that the spurts of juice might dirty the hospital sheets.
When he realized that the nun was acting in this way purely from a desire for mortification of the flesh, the man resolved to cooperate towards the salvation of her soul. After having come, he held sister Francesca by the ears with her mouth around his tool, until the nervous spasms had died down. Then in a deep voice invested with some grave and priestly quality, he said to her:
"Now sister, I am going to satisfy you."
No sooner said than done, and sister Francesca was on her back being eaten by the lusty black man. He tongued her cunt until she came violently.
Margaret just had enough time to tiptoe away.
Aroused by all she had seen, she returned to the cloakroom to indulge in her solitary pleasures. Just as she was on the point of coming, she forced the dildo into her asshole, all the time fondling her clitoris with her hand. She was swept away on waves of voluptuousness. But while the rubber balls spurted creamy milk inside her, she visualized beneath closed eyelids an enormous erected prick which seemed to split her in two.
From then on the Negro's erected tool pursued her in her dreams, and when sister Francesca became afflicted by a violent attack of rheumatism which prevented her from walking and also forced her to give up attending to Thomas the Kikuyu, Margaret volunteered to take her place. Her friends saw nothing strange in this. Every unusual action becomes normal once there is a valid precedent.
Margaret spent the whole night trying to figure out how she could fuck the Negro and obtain the same favors from him as the nun. She ended up by thinking along the lines of eternal wisdom that to the simple everything is simple; that if you throw yourself in the water you learn to swim right away, and that you need to break eggs to make an omelet.
So the following evening, having locked the door of the room, she lifted up her skirts without saying anything, thus offering to the man a beautiful pair of buttocks surrounding a delightful little asshole. This she had taken the precaution of anointing with perfumed cream, for she was a little frightened by the massive size of his instrument. She did not have to wait long. A hot round object was soon applied to the crack of her buttocks, and helped by the cream the shudders of a tensed belly soon penetrated her like a fiery arrow. A strong hand pressed against her belly to give support for this invisible lover, while another hand, gently parting the hairs around her cunt thrust deeply into her vagina, hurting the lips and buttons and moving as if it wanted to join up, through the delicate membranes, with the enormous tool which was attacking her with ram-like thrusts. The juice of love which immediately flowed over the man's hand excited him even more.
The in and out movement of his brutal cock was matched by a corresponding movement of his moistened fingers. When they came the sensation was so overpowering that both participants fell to the ground crying out their joy, and remained there panting and immobile for some moments: she, wanting to feel the maximum benefit from his flesh, the gigantic and burning tool; he, happy to keep his throbbing tool warm in the narrow, perfumed passage which he found a pleasant change from sister Francesca, whose hygiene left much to be desired.
When they got up at last, he was still faithful to the habits of the nun and held out his prick for her to suck it. No sooner had she applied her little pink tongue than the dick stiffened and inflated. Margaret could not wait any longer. She lay down on the bed and drew the man to her. That is what he had been waiting for right from the beginning. She felt herself penetrated to the womb by the quivering javelin. At the same time he opened her legs and locked them around his waist so that he could go even deeper into the yielding flesh. He opened her nurse's blouse and With his large lips sucked on the rounded tit which forced its way out from her clothing; his left hand tickled the pink strawberry of her other tit while with his right hand, which he slipped around Margaret's kidneys, he helped on the gentle movement of possession. The young girl had never experienced so much sensation at once. She felt herself melting away beneath the ebony torso. The pleasure moved around her body in concentric circles.
Her breasts, her belly, her cunt, all were united in an immense confederation of pleasure which was an agreeable foretaste of the union of the human race. At the moment of climax Thomas' hand let go of her kidneys. He pushed two fingers into her ass and drilled up as if searching for oil. At the same time he let go of her breast and planted a long and luscious kiss on her mouth, his long tongue parting her teeth and almost forcing its way down her throat. At that moment Margaret was all pleasure. She felt herself being literally vaporized in sensation. All there was left of her was an immense and voluptuous vibration, which shuddered from time to time with the fury of the raging sea. The man moaned and the cry of the made woman replied to him.
She unlocked her legs from around his waist which was now covered in gleaming and scented sweat. Her legs wound themselves round those of Thomas communicating their heat to his. The fingers left her ass to grip her buttocks. The black head rolled on her white shoulder. But the tool was still inside her, and still hard, trembling from time to time. It swelled as if he was giving with his flesh a deep sigh and then the stiffness diminished. The sensation of rape disappeared. They were now no more than a pair of Siamese twins who were playing a game ... they drew apart and silently looked at each other.
This was the beginning of a silent adventure story that went on every day, since God willed, that for the salvation of her soul, sister Francesca's rheumatism remained with her.
When Thomas became well again he asked for permission to go on leave to Nairobi at Margaret's instigation. She went with him. She would never forget the
) days that they spent there. They only got up in the afternoon, ate with a hearty appetite and then went to the cinema.
There in the comfortable darkness he used to put his hand under her skirts and begin to fondle her button. She was as impatient as he and unbuttoning his trousers, pulled his great tool out from his pants. It would stand up immediately and she rubbed it softly to keep the pleasure going and to make it more intense. When the bulging veins indicated that ejaculation was imminent she would lean over the knee of her lover and swallow up his prick in her mouth, feeling the sperm spurt out and perfume her mouth with a salty taste while she herself ejaculated from the caresses of his nimble fingers.
This maneuver did not always pass unnoticed by the people sitting around them. But the color and the uniform of Thomas, to say nothing of his soldierly bearing, inspired in them both respect and indulgence.
They would come out of the cinema, joining for a moment the hustle and bustle of the evening crowds and then would take a taxi to a local native dancing place. They would dance closely locked together. Thomas stiffened up again, stretching the thick serge of his uniform with his tool. Then she would open her legs up and embrace between her thighs the hard triangle of furry material against her light dress. To the rhythm of the beguine she would move her thighs very slowly. The triangle became harder and opened the lips of her fragrant pussy, in spite of the double covering of material. She felt the spasms of the organ and immediately the sudden ejaculation which made her come as well. Then they would go off to the toilets to wipe themselves with their handkerchief. They would send the toilet attendant away to get some cigarettes and then very quickly she would lick his glans, swallowing down what was left of the spunk, lifting up her-skirts so that he could taste her come juice, too.
Then they would wander back along the moonlit streets to their little hotel and love nest. One day they bought an illustrated edition of the Karma-Sutra in a tiny little shop in the back streets, and from then on they spent the evenings in their room trying out all the lascivious poses that the Hindu genius invented. The one Margaret preferred was what Thomas called the 'carpet-run.' He would take hold of Margaret by the legs, forcing her to walk on her hands. His tool was on a level with the part in the thighs and he caressed long and slowly the two charming holes that presented themselves to him, with his enormous erection. Little by little Margaret was overcome with lust and she curved and twisted her body around, opening in turn the lips of her cunt and her asshole, trying to draw in the burning instrument of desire. Thomas pretended not to make up his mind right away. He thrust his cock between the cuntlips, stroking the moist clitoris, and then changed to the ass, forcing his prick up the anal sphincter.
Margaret groaned.
"Give it to me, darling please...."
And he with his teeth clenched would reply: "No, trollop, no, keep walking ... you are not worthy of my prick . .
Margaret would keep on walking on her hands around the room. Now and again she would stop suddenly just to catch the feel of the man's prick against her skin. He would slap her hard then and shout:
"Keep moving, slut ... move...."
Little by little, as he forced her to walk about he gave her body a thrusting motion and moved his prick into her cunt. It came out covered in juice. Then he turned his attention to her asshole which he penetrated with a quick flick of the thighs. And so it went on. In turn he tried the cunt and the ass, but all the time taking great care that she should not come. She groaned with pleasure.
"Give it to me, darling, finish it ... I can't take it any more ... Ohl give it to me!"
Then he let go of her and gripped her around the waist.
"You slut, you bitch, you do not love me. You only want your own gratification. Filthy slave you will only get it in my own good time"
He took hold of his belt and made it whistle through the air and hit her rump. By the third blow, pink weals had sprung up on the white skin.
"Open your thighs, trollop!"
And the improvised whip lashed down between her thighs, opening the delicate lips.
"Oh! I am going to come, I am going to come ... give it to me ..
Margaret was moaning with pleasure and pain.
Then he threw himself upon her and began to fuck her alternately in the cunt and in the ass. Every time that she was just about to come he would withdraw his prick and let her rest, murmuring in a hoarse voice:
"Suck it, you slut! Give it a suck. The servant should give pleasure to his master. The servant has no need of pleasure. You are my servant and my slave. Say it. Goon."
While continuing to suck the enormous fruit Margaret repeated the phrase in a voice not unnaturally indistinct: "I am your slave."
Thomas felt a great feeling of passion sweep up over him. He did not want to come in his mistress' mouth, so he lay down on the bed with his prick pointing up to the heavens.
"Come here," he said in a stifled voice.
Then began the long litany of passion.
"Give me your ass...."
"Give me your cunt...."
"Give me your ass...."
"Give me your cunt...."
And as she was instructed Margaret thrust the black organ into the two places of intimacy. Suddenly she let out a long cry.
"Oh! it's too good . it's too good ... I'm coming!"
Her hands seized hold of his balls as if she wished that she could swallow them up in her cunt. Then Thomas put his fingers in her ass and when they were well and truly inside opened them up so as to dilate her anus. Then in several violent thrusts he shot up into her the boiling sperm which afterwards dripped down and nestled like perfumed pearls among the brown hairs of her bush.
Margaret was completely given over to this amorous sensation. Thomas lay alongside her back, slipping his still hard tool into the furrow of her hot thighs. He crossed his hands over her breasts and fondled the pink tips. Both of them just remained there recuperating their strength in peaceful sleep.
But everything has to come to an end sometime, and every friendship has to have its parting. Thomas had to go back to the bush to help in the fight against the Mau-Mau. He wrote passionate letters in which he enclosed several hairs which he had cut from his bush; little wiry hairs which seemed like black tendrils.
He also demanded in exchange that Margaret should from time send him some hairs from around her cunt. Before doing it she masturbated while thinking of Thomas. Thus he received the hairs all stuck together with come juice which reminded him of their happy moments together. At night when he was on guard duty, he would take them out of his wallet and breathe in their fragrance. He would quite unconsciously take his tool in his hand, rub it up and send a spurt of juice towards the invisible enemy.
But one day a stray bullet ended his life. He left, as the good polygamous type he was, three widows' bereaved by his loss: on the front his major, in Nairobi, Margaret, and in a far away village a certain Maria for whose hand in marriage he had already paid eight pounds and twelve yards of cotton cloth.
It was the Major, who was in Nairobi on official business, who came himself to Margaret to break the sad news of Thomas' untimely death. He gave her back the letters which she had written to her lover during the previous three months. He also admitted, blushing a little, that Thomas' death was as much of a loss to him as it was to Margaret. (Truly the noble Thomas was an upright pillar of virtue and a great solace to those in travail or in distress.) Margaret asked him to stay to dinner. The dinner developed into a funeral wake. At three o'clock in the morning Margaret saw that she could not decently send the Major home since the taxis had by this time been long off the streets. So she invited him to share her bed.
The captain was a tremendous petter, never had she been caressed so well. But unfortunately he was constitutionally incapable of getting a hard-on. Margaret felt a certain obligation towards her guest and tried to give him pleasure by rubbing his prick.
She could only make him gain any pleasure by thrusting into his ass the dildo which had served her so well during her trying times at the hospital before she had known Thomas.
She had had enough thoughtfulness to have filled up the balls with hot cream which she squirted, at the appropriate moment, into the Major's hole while all the time she employed her fingers to good advantage trying to induce the weak prick to stand up for itself.
The major, feeling himself being vigorously ploughed by the dildo closed his eyes to try and visualize the ebony form of his lost friend. Suddenly he let out the magical words of the past: "Thomas! ... Thomas!"
Margaret looked at the major's face and wondered with a momentary anxiety whether she looked as stupid as he did when she came.
CHAPTER II
The unfortunate experience with the Major was to turn Margaret away from men of his race, since she was now quite convinced that all white men were like him (and like her husband as well) all just stupid, ugly and impotent. A local native who she had met in a dancing club took a liking to her and was for some time an effective gigolo. But she became tired of him and was greatly relieved when he disappeared only slightly surprised when she later discovered that he held a quite high official position.
A half-porter followed him. And so she began to get a taste for black flesh. This porter was quite a chap, too: he filled in as a tic-tac man on the racecourse and lent money to the rich gamblers when they found themselves out of cash. Quite ignorant of Lady Margaret's social position he asked to be able to support her, and she was intrigued with the idea of playing the kept woman's part. But one fine day the porter left her, saying that he preferred someone more worldly. However she heard later that he had set up shop with the widow of a butcher whose tenderloin steak had probably turned his head.
Margaret was easily consoled. What she was looking for was the real savage, and not the black man spoiled by civilization.
The blacks of Nairobi seemed to be phony and so she decided to take a trip to Madagascar. When the steamer pulled up its anchor it seemed to her as if an equal weight was being lifted from her heart. She was shown all around the ship, visiting the engine room and taking pleasure in rubbing herself against the natives there, whose brown bodies shone like burnished bronze among the dancing pistons.
When five days later she saw the island in the distance she ran excitedly up to the poop deck. The wind made her white dress billow out around her. She avidly drank in the hot breeze. It seemed to her that suddenly she was in possession of the real Africa. An Africa in which Thomas would be brought back to life like an ebony God who would mysteriously dispense all the pleasures of the steaming tropics. She felt herself brimming over with violent and new sensations which spiraled around her like the sea gulls around the stationary ship.
On the quays there was a bustle of energy. The strong dockers garbed in purple robes heaved the cases of oranges around on their wiry arms.
They laughed loudly showing off their gleaming white teeth which shone between their dark lips. Already the porters were arguing over who should take Margaret's cases.
The bus ride was long and hot, yet Margaret did not mind as in the crowded bus a strong brown leg was pressed close to her thigh and she relaxed thinking of her lost love.
On arrival in the big town she was quite surprised by its modernity. The streets were full of elegant shops. She could see modem records, French perfume and even artificial flowers. Only the market place retained its exotic atmosphere with the vendors dressed in their long white aprons, shouting out the benefits of their wares. Young Malagasy women strolled about enveloped in multiple folds of material which made them look like walking eiderdowns. They carried on their heads with equal grace, a tin of sardines or a gallon of water.
Margaret breathed in delightfully the aroma of the square, the acid smell of lemons and mandarins, mingled with the soft perfume of bananas and the scent of the baskets of red peppers, and the musky odor of sweaty black skin.
The hotel she was booked at reminded her of a South Coast boarding house. They gave her a room with a private bath. The decor was so banal and so European that she was almost surprised to see her cases being taken up by colored porters.
She closed the door of her room and sat down on the brass bedstead feeling tired and disappointed. She walked towards the mirror, found that she was showing her tiredness and automatically began to powder her face. She took out of her case her lightweight dresses which she spread all around the room. She chose one of them to suit her mood and rang for the houseboy.
The man who came was tall, insolent and very correct. When he brought the dress back Margaret was clothed only in her slip but he didn't even look at her.
She spent the afternoon stretched out on her bed. At six o'clock she dressed and went out to a large and fashionable cafe. All along the pavement there were rows of expensive cars. Several women in evening gowns had thrown silver fox capes over their shoulders in spite of the heat. Surrounded by this excess of civilization, Margaret felt strangely troubled. She could work up a faint smile for the little brown-eyed children who sold roasted peanuts on the terrace. One by one the groups of people dispersed. The band stopped playing. A freshet of wind ruffled the artificial palm trees of the cafe. Margaret shuddered and called an old horse-drawn cab that was passing.
After dinner, still on her own, she went down to the bar. The dance floor was surrounded by light bulbs, modernistic chairs and pink lampshades and reminded her of the dullest London nightclubs. The couples danced together with bored expressions. Many women were sitting down alone at a table with an empty bottle of champagne in front of them and a drop of lemonade in their glass. Several black doctors were trying to make it with a group of Argentinean women.
The evening dragged on. A gentleman asked to meet Margaret. She refused, shaking her head gently. He did not insist which made her a little annoyed. She asked for her bill, and went up to her room. She did not feel like sleeping and stood on her balcony leaning against the rail. The night was calm and the street deserted. The only sign of life was a native prostitute who, from time to time, sidled along the pavement and slipped furtively into a half open door. Margaret went back into her room, sat down and bathed her temples with Eau de Cologne.
Slowly the idea of a night walk took hold in her mind. She tried to fight against it. She stretched out on the divan and shut her eyes. But relentlessly the wish followed her. She saw the native town in her mind's eye, only having the appearance of sleep: full of meaningful lights and little squares full of wandering males in search of adventure. She groaned loudly and stood up.
The freshness of the night air made her feel good. She went up the street and reached the native portion. They were remaking the road and along the side were large concrete sewage pipes in which men were sleeping making the pipes rumble like an organ with their snoring.
She carried on her way and the pavement gave way to mud paths. There were people sleeping here too, on the wooden benches with their sheep. She slipped down into the dark alleyways and avidly looked in the windows of the sleeping houses. She could make out little rooms where bodies locked together were sleeping on iron bedsteads. In the darkness she could not see too well, and she took pleasure in imagining them to be recovering after a bout of love. She delightedly breathed in the musty and almost human smell of the muddy alleys between houses which almost touched each other.
The following day she asked the boy for the address of the brothel. He said that they had been closed down but that he knew the address of a house where she could meet people and find what she desired.
Margaret found herself entering a room decorated in vaguely Chinese style, the style that one used to find in the good old provincial bordellos.
The Madame welcomed her without showing the slightest surprise. Margaret said that she liked Negro men and that evening she hoped to make love with one of them. But she was frightened of disease and also did not want to run the risk of picking a man up in the streets.
"I know exactly what you want," agreed the procuress, "cleanliness, good upbringing and a big prick. It's not a scarce kind of commodity here in Madagascar and it will cost you comparatively little."
Margaret took out her purse and slipped several notes into the hand of the woman who accompanied her to the door.
"You will, I am quite sure, be satisfied with the service that I provide. We are in contact with blacks who are as well brought up as they are well armed. They will make you come even better than the unfortunate savage who you remember, and they will not exploit you."
Margaret went back to her hotel to take a siesta. But the heat prevented her from getting any sleep.
Naked on the bed, she was idly playing her fingers around the hairs of her pussy when the boy knocked on the door. She put on a dressing-gown to open the door. He gave her an enormous box of chocolates with a card:
John-Henry Robinson Chief Justice, Assize Court.
Added on the back, and showing the manifest good taste of this worthy admirer, was the following: "I shall be very glad to meet you. Would you have dinner with me tonight?"
"Is there any reply?" asked the boy.
"Say that I shall be ready at eight o'clock."
As the dusk came down Margaret began to get ready. At seven she was already finished and she sat down to wait. Her flesh was moving in an inexplicable way. A wave of feeling spread over her.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. She was told that the judge was waiting for her in the lounge. She went down, trying to catch a glimpse of him from the top of the stairs, but the potted plants were in the way.
Hearing her coming down he turned round. He was a man of about forty, plump with that rich Negro plumpness. Beneath the heavy eyelids his eyes glittered with vanity and cunning. His teeth were gleaming white under a diminutive moustache as he smiled. His dress was very elegant.
She had an instinctive moment of hesitation but he was already bowing and introducing himself. She had to thank him and she took his arm.
They began a long drive into the country, up into the mountains. Moving very close to her he apologized for having had to use a house in order to get to know her. He hoped that she wouldn't think any more about it. He would show her that a black man, just like any man, can appreciate the beauty of the white woman.
She listened to him horrified.
The luxurious car, the man who was already sporting a good belly, his precise voice incessantly trying to find the right expression, all this was hateful to her.
The car stopped at a restaurant in front of a lake, where several elegant groups of people were already eating.
She thought that her being with a native would at least arouse comment, but not at all. The waiter moved like a fiend to get them served. All she heard was a woman saying: "She's new around. But she's certainly made a good start, he earns at least twenty thousand."
Her taste for scandal, and the pleasure of deliberately flouting prejudice might perhaps have reconciled Margaret to her companion. But she could not accept the idea that one can have any kind of fantasies provided one has money.
She leaned over towards the lawyer and pleaded a sudden headache.
Before he had time to recover from his surprise she had called a taxi. She left alone.
The driver asked her where she wanted to go. She just shrugged her shoulders. She didn't know. She was surrounded by civilians, luxury and ugliness.
CHAPTER III
From then on, when night fell a car came to take Margaret to the native quarter. She lingered in the pressing crowd in the market place. Just to be able to stop for a moment in the crowds she pretended to be listening to the blind beggars, as they sent out their complaints. She went into a Syrian restaurant where the native workers eat. She leaned against the walls covered in pictures cut out of magazines and felt her heart throbbing with emotion. She drank tepid beer in cracked glasses.
The meal was just a ladleful from three pots; one filled with rice, one of fish and one of tomato sauce.
She was often followed and she would stop in the street pretending to be a prostitute. She looked at the dark faces in the night. She waited to hear from their dark lips the brutal word which would deliver her from her enchantment. All she heard were smutty jokes and a few offers from traveling salesmen. Then she would laugh as if demented and walk away.
On Saturdays she went to the local native dances. The walls of the places were garlanded with paper streamers. The dancers cast monstrous shadows because of the low-slung lights. The orchestra was made up of an accordion, a drum, a guitar and a saw, and played away in a bamboo surrounded corner. In a quarter of an hour the tiny room was filled. Men sat as best they could on filthy benches and rickety chairs.
Outside, the crowd listened avidly to the music and moved their bodies in time. The accordion player glued his ear to his instrument, pressed it close to him and caressed it as if it were a pair of breasts. The guitarist played without seeming to notice the others, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, but always in time. The man on the calabash drum beat it with quick nervous strokes. The sweat was pouring off him and it made a large stain on his dirty shirt. There were very few women. A few drunk ones who were knocking back the rum or the anisette with great gulps. Sometimes one of them would stagger across the room to get another glass, and right away three blacks would dance around her, rubbing themselves up against her floating white dress. But generally the men danced together, and Margaret yearned to be held close by one of them.
To an American rhythm, two soldiers traced out a one-step that they had learned in some port in Europe, and then they sat down proud as punch until the beginning of the real local style. Everyone got up suddenly and began to twist around as if undergoing an epileptic seizure. Soon they sang in tune with the band, and this rousing chorus made the wattle walls of the place tremble. One of the dancers played the woman's part, turning around slowly in the middle of the floor and undulating his hips, offering first his front and then his behind to his sweating partner.
Their heads relaxed. Their eyes rolled around like white marbles in their dark faces and as their bodies came together their sweat mingled. This, combined with the thick smell of the local cigarettes and the monotonous voices chanting out a phrase which Margaret was glad she did not understand, all this evoked in her a sensation of the fatality of desire.
Suddenly the orchestra stopped as if completely exhausted. Applause and coarse laughter rang out around the room. When the nostalgic voices had died down, Margaret realized once again that she had not understood anything and that here love did not have the seductive animal quality that she was looking for. Already the animals were civilized and were straightening their ties.
One evening, her presence in a small dancing place caused quite a commotion. George who ran the place was from Nigeria and he got worried right from the start. Soon two men started fighting over her and the place turned into a complete brawl. Margaret hid under a table. Suddenly she saw a young black charge out of the middle of the fight. He came right up to her and picked her up in one hand, taking her out of the dive.
They stopped in a narrow alleyway. The woman looked at her rescuer. Although his head was black, it had something of the antique purity about it. You would have called him an ebony faun. Underneath his torn shirt she could see his heart beating hard with the exertion. The woman stayed silent
"They would have hurt you."
Then as she was searching around in her handbag, he refused with a movement of the head. She held out her card.
"Here is my card. Come and see me tomorrow."
He took the card, lifting it up in the air so that he could read it in the moonlight. He smiled softly and his eyes gleamed. He looked at her languorously and long and then bounded off into the night.
The next day she waited for him all day. He did not come. She asked George for the name and address of this stranger, but only got a vague reply.
"I think he comes from the depths of the country. At one time he worked on the railway. He comes here from time to time, but no one really knows his story."
Margaret returned on several occasions and each time the same reply aroused and worried her.
This alternating hope and despair put Margaret into bad tempers. During the siesta hour she would sleep deeply, waking up to find her finger in her cunt. She would remember having a dream that she was walking through a forest of pricks solidly rooted in the ground. The fruit of these trees hung down and terminated in dark fruit which spurted out a thick liquid. Sometimes she wanted to taste this living fruit which would contract between her lips and then inflate in her hands, squirting out its sap. She came out of these nightmares a little haggard, and while she was making herself up she would think, sometimes of Thomas sometimes of the stranger. The dead man's tool floated around in her thoughts like a monstrous ectoplasm. She wondered continually if the young stranger who had helped her and who was so much in her thoughts, was as well provided for as Thomas.
She pretended to put an erected dick into her cunt and imagined she felt strong balls pressing up against her. She moaned and massaged her breasts softly, springing them with cold water, as if the water sprinkled on her skin could change the course of her obsessions.
When she was dressed, she would go and stroll around the market. There, in spite of herself, her gaze was drawn by the virile appearance that God has given to many of the fruits and vegetables in warmer climes. The stiff, striped quality of the bananas, the green phallus shape of the cucumbers, enormous tropical carrots, whose large and flattened heads and wrinkled skin reminded her of the exertions of pleasure. All these suggestive visions accompanied her during her daily walks, insinuated themselves under her skirts, morally I hasten to add, slipped between her legs, rubbed up against her thighs and parted the lips of her cunt which had suddenly become moist. Sometimes the illusion was so strong that she had to stop walking and get her breath back, exorcising this demonic vegetable attack. But one day she could not take it any longer. As a blind she bought a large raffia basket so that she would be able to look innocent as she filled it up. Then she went to the stalls and bought up a supply of bananas and cucumbers.
"Nice big ones please," she said to the vendors. "They are tastier."
She hid her full basket in the cupboard in her room and went down to lunch for which she had no appetite. She looked out of the window unhappily and ... saw the scorching streets which the midday sun had emptied of all its male population.
She ordered a black coffee with an obscure notion that this would prevent her from sleeping and enable her to continue the sterile and exhausting daydreams.
Once she had gone up to her room she took out the basket from the cupboard, stroked the assorted vegetables and eventually picked out two cucumbers because of their fine and tender skin, and put them on the bedside table. She put the basket back, locked the door of the room, undressed and lay down naked on the bed.
Then she took one of the cucumbers and began to heat it up between the palms of her hands while she placed the other in the hollow of her thighs. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling, she relived former moments of pleasure. She slipped the cucumber between her moist breasts, caressed her lips with it, gripped it under her armpits. Her eyes were closed and she was thus given over to two invisible lovers. One was stiff in the hollow of her thighs, the other was moving his virile prick over all her body. Soon the illusion was so strong that she moaned. With one hand she pushed the enormous cucumber forward in her thighs until its tip touched her soft lips, which quivered beneath their golden awning of hair.
The hugeness of the vegetable hurt her. She took it out, moistened it with saliva and tried to replace it, helping it with a forwards and backwards motion. She then let go of the other cucumber and began to fondle her breasts which inflated and erected their strawberry tips like burgeoning spring flowers. The intensity of this caress transformed the pain of the huge vegetable, which was slowly penetrating into her intimate place, into pleasure. She had been too long without a man. Her hand twitched suddenly and the cucumber tore her delicate flesh, just as if it were an impatient lover. Margaret's five fingers clenched over her breasts and she felt, as the sudden spasm of pleasure swept over her, the come juice flowing down between her thighs. When she returned to her senses she resolved to organize on a semi-scientific basis for her pleasure and to make use of both of the natural phalluses that she had acquired at the market. Having been a little hurt when she pulled out the cucumber which was buried deep into her secret cavern, she decided that it would better to push the fruit in by the narrower end, since even that end was quite as big as the organ of any reasonable man.
The swinging motion would be helped and the fact that the fruit would thus become larger in size as it entered, would help her Ups which should gradually widen as the pleasure increased instead of being painfully forced open right at the beginning.
So she lay down comfortably on one side and after having anointed the cucumber with perfumed cream, she carefully pushed it into her asshole. She made it come and go in her delicate cavern, all the while caressing her breasts. The whole of the intimacy of her body contracted around the vegetable, and this contraction slowly increased her sensation. Then she let go of her breasts and began to do the same thing to her cunt with the other cucumber. Voluptuousness overcame her and her hands began to move clumsily. She was panting. Soon she could only move the vegetables very slightly before being overpowered by a flood of delight. She groaned loudly and stayed still for some time, her fingers clenched around the large ends of the two vegetables which looked as if they were piercing right through her.
Margaret began to acquire such a taste for this exercise that she repeated it every day during the siesta, but varying the program to increase the pleasure.
It was in this way that she got the idea of making a hole in the cucumber with a long knitting needle which she had once used to knit a pair of woolly underpants for Thomas. At the base of the vegetable she fixed on the rubber bulb from her private washer, and through the canal she had formed spurted up into herself, like an all conquering sperm, a jet of Swiss concentrated milk.
She discovered a whole series of imitation pricks made out of various fruits and vegetables. She varied her menu as the fancy took her, the advantage of this system being that she did not hurt her delicate parts so much because of the great number of instruments of pleasure that she had conceived.
During these entertainments a slight murmuring filled the room. This delightful vegetable salad was taking Margaret to the very edges of paradise.
But as soon as dusk fell, nature reaffirmed its rights and Margaret began to be anxious again. Disgustedly she flushed away the false instruments of pleasure in the toilet of the floor above, so that no one could accuse her of messing up good food.
She dressed, made up her face, and went out again in her search for the beautiful stranger who she was quite sure was the only person able to bring her the relaxation of love.
CHAPTER IV
Someone had said to her, "If you like native dances go to Cancho's."
One Saturday evening she had at last made up her mind. The streets were deserted and the houses darkened. At last the driver stopped in front of a restaurant. Groups of people were crowded round the door from which one could hear the mediocre joy of white-influenced music.
Suddenly she saw, among a group of loungers, the man she had been looking for. He was dressed in a pink shirt and blue trousers and was drinking in the spectacle. She smiled at him.
"Don't you recognize me?"
He nodded his head but said nothing.
"Why didn't you come and see me as I asked you to? Will you have a drink with me?"
He hesitated for a moment.
"Go in on your own and ask for a table. The waiter would not give me one." And he showed her his torn trousers and his worn out sandals.
A sudden tenderness swept over Margaret.
"Wait for me."
She went in. The waiters really moved to serve her.
She was given a table right next to the dance floor where she could watch the gyrations and contortions of the dancing couples. She ordered champagne and went back to the door to find her companion. He had disappeared.
Quite astonished she looked all around, asked the driver of her car, and then remembering his attitude, imagined that he had gone off to change his clothes. She sat down and waited for him. Practically all the people in the place were black or mulatto. Near the bar several Portuguese mulattoes were playing the guitar. The women were dressed in long flowing and revealing dresses, made of red, green or yellow silk. In spite of the stifling heat, the men were all wearing suits. Most people drank beer, or cream dementhe frappe, or a sparkling wine which the waiter brought wrapped in a napkin and pretended was champagne.
But that evening those few white people there seemed to be putting on a spectacle for the blacks. The jazz band was desperately trying to imitate the happy American Negro style. Now and again one of them would move out of the band and croon some song which the locals just laughed at.
Sometimes a woman with sunken breasts would go onto the floor and trace, out of step, the pattern of rock and roll. And this crowd, whose ancestors had known the orgies of ritual dancing at midnight just sat back and clapped for her.
Margaret was sickened by the spectacle. She was a woman without prejudice, she had given herself to a Negro, but she could not stand the complacency of the conquering race, and suddenly she hated every one in the room. She got up and went out, but her rescuer was not there.
She wandered for a moment among the cars and then she told the driver to go back to the hotel. On the way back, she watched the road avidly, in the hope of finding the man she was looking for. The outskirts of the city were just vast deserted plots, giving an impression of an uninhabited cemetery.
Suddenly the streetlights were back. She could hear the sad sounds of mechanical pianos. She reached the hotel. She heard the car drive off. The night porter resumed his interrupted snoring.
Her head was buzzing with emotion and she lay down and soon sleep brought her a fitful peace.
The following day she went back to Cancho's and asked the owner. He told her to come back before dinner, when one of the locals could perhaps advise her.
She wandered around the streets. She was shown a broken down house which was used by blacks as a place to meet women. She promised herself that she would go back there that evening in the hope of finding the man that she had sought in vain.
The nearness of the dark prostitutes did not worry her. She had thrown over all the prejudices that had been inculcated into her as a little girl. She knew the value of fleeting time, and the necessity of achieving one's desires before it is too late. Unconsciously she walked along and reached the edge of the sea. Blue waves broke their snowy crests on the sand which was covered with sea weed.
Margaret drank in the fresh clear sea smell. The wind caressed her cheeks. When she felt the wind on her face, she experienced a wild sensation of pleasure. It seemed to take her back to the virgin universe; the golden age when bodies were not clothed and souls were simple.
Fishermen were spreading out their nets in the sunshine. They had turned their canoes over to recaulk the seams. From the dunes came questions and then curses as the natives learned that their fish had already been sold. But in spite of that they went away weighed down with a huge basket of fish.
Margaret in her turn followed them back to the town. It was nearly dinnertime and perhaps someone could give her some information.
After the torrid heat of the streets, the cool of the bar was wonderful. At the bar the owner was talking to an olive-skinned mulatto. He whispered something into his ear. They laughed out loud together and then told her that they did not know who she was talking about.
This laugh was unbearable and she got up and left without buying a drink.
She had a terrible dinner at the hotel and then went out. The shops were just closing and the pavements were full of people going home. The whites were talking about the future of the peanut. The blacks were talking about electoral chicanery.
Margaret hurried towards the native meeting house. There were men and women sitting there at their case on the veranda. They had precise and obscene movements and then took their companions off into the darkness.
But Margaret looked at them in vain. She knew none of them. But they began to be interested in her, and started to surround her. She became frightened and got back in the car. The bumpy road made her head bounce around on the cushions. She was full of desire. She loved the stranger.
She saw him again as he had looked at her tenderly: she felt his strong hands around her waist and the strength in him as he had carried her. Would she ever find him again? Why was he running away from her? Was she losing her attractiveness?
She suddenly jumped; they had got back to the hotel. She went up the stairs. The floorboy was sleeping on the leather sofa. She pushed open the door of her room and got a shock.
The man she had been looking for was there.
He stood in the middle of the room waiting for her, silent and smiling. She moved forward and touched almost timidly the hard muscles under his chest, sighed and then was picked up like a child and taken to the bed. N She asked his name.
OhI miracle upon miracle it was Thomas! Thomas, just like the other one.
And how gentle he was. First, he nibbled the tips of her breasts, moving his tongue around as if he wanted to apologize for biting them. His tongue moved in the warm hollow of her breasts, slipped along her ribs and made pretty designs on her belly. The tongue moved down to the furrow of her thighs and left a fleck of saliva on the blonde beauty which surrounded her cunt. Very gently the tongue lapped away at the soft hairs and moistened the delicate crack before entering. It continued on its way, reached the button, curled around it and tickled it. Margaret moved herself, opening her thighs wide and fondling the boy's black kinky hair. He turned half way round and Margaret suddenly saw above her head, between the dark and supple thighs a long ebony banana, solidly inflated and pointing toward her mouth. She seized the tool and sucked it. It seemed to her that this huge prick was all through her and that it was in her cunt. She was now just a ball of pleasure turning around on a needle of voluptuousness. A ball of pleasure with two poles: the north pole working the hose pipe and the south pole tickling.
In short, a perfectly successful 69.
Thomas had his climax, but he did not lose his erection. He stretched out alongside Margaret. She moved her back against his chest, pushing her rump against his belly and lacing her legs into his. They stayed like that for a moment, exhausted and panting, then the man recovered himself. His hands began to play like a guitarist on the breasts of Margaret, which caused the little tips to become pointed and full of sap like opening lotus flowers. His immense prick inflated even more, passed the height of his belly button and quivered below her kidneys.
Thomas rubbed his body along all its length against the body he was holding, and Margaret felt this hot rod sliding along her skin. She remembered the words of former times. She inflated her breasts and curved her trunk.
"Give it to me, darling, please...."
He began to fuck her like a rabbit. She twisted her thighs around. She got ready to come. Then he stopped, took his tool from her dripping cunt and pressed it into her ass. The rhythm to which they are both moving took on that of the guitar rhythm which he had played on her breasts. Lovely, how lovely it is to move like this from cunt to ass to cunt ... just like the other Thomas who died gloriously for his country on the battle field.
Such is the similarity that suddenly Margaret begs in a hoarse voice: "Beat me, hurt me...."
Above her, her lover hesitates with a forced laugh, and then he slaps her hard with his hand which seems to set up an unknown correspondence with her vagina and which arouses in his mistress a fiery desire. The groans begin to excite him. The slaps become harder. They hurt the gradually reddening skin. They fall over all her body. He cannot move his tool out of her cunt. He is going to come. He is going to come. HE COMES. THEY COME TOGETHER. His head droops onto the white shoulder of the woman. He bites it as hard as he can while he pressed the ripe fruit of her breasts in her hands. He digs his nails in, he beats and scratches her panting sides. He squeezes her cunt in his strong grip.
The tropical night envelops these two close knit bodies. Margaret is the first to arouse herself from this love bath in which she thought she must have drowned. She looks at her lover.
He is sleeping stretched out on the dazzling whiteness of the sheet. He has clasped both hands behind his neck. She looks at the huge black body with its two light patches in the chest and the belly. He is satisfied and she is happy.
Dawn was already creeping in through the shutters, and the mirror reflected the image of them both. How beautiful he is, and how strong!
The Gods have fashioned him to run and to love. Ah! If only he would awake and bound off into the prairie among the soft-eyed gazelles! The rustic bow would shudder and stretch between his hands. He would cull the ripe golden apples as the branches shiver in the wind! The pure crystal water of the fountain would slake his thirst.
The world is his, and the sun, and the heavens and the wheeling constellations. For he is beautiful, and all the glory of the world is as nothing beside the beauty of youth.
In the shadows the large mirror leaves a mysterious life and implacably registers the actions of the couple. The cruel dawn strikes against it. The woman sees. The woman has understood. He is younger than she. What does that matter! She will fight. Then softly, oh so softly, she gets up. In the next room, suddenly the rippling song of water is heard. Powder is spread, the practiced hands dispose the unguents and repair the damage of the night. A black line makes her eyes shine and a pastel blue softens the shadow under them. Even her body is dissimulated under the fight silk of pajamas. Lies, all lies.
The dawn has now tipped out its basket of roses into the sky. Margaret returns, smiling with the sun. On the bed the black god is awaking. His eyes seek out the woman. Desire still shines in them. His nude torso jumps off the bed but she rejects the searching hand and goes to the window: she leans out, profiling herself.
His eyes follow this perfumed presence and gaze voluptuously at the silk of her clothes and the richness of her hair.
She turns around, sure now of her triumph. She is waiting.
He looks at her silently; she is fresh and beautifully clad, and then he turns his eyes towards his pink shirt and tattered trousers lying on the floor. He reproaches her softly.
"But I haven't got anything to put on."
She thought to herself. "If my husband were alive he would say that he'd heard that tune before."
They go shopping for the whole day. He is insatiable and she is quite amazed with her joy. She lets him buy everything he wants. In the car the piles grow: silk socks, woven ties, flannel trousers, striped blazers, perfumed shoes, brightly colored shirts. Instinctively, he goes for bright colors. He is quite charming. She holds his hand and offers her lips.
"Where did you learn to kiss like that?"
He frowns and then blurts out, blushing furiously: "From the man I work for."
No longer does she want to know his history. Let him remain the animal surging up out of the brush.
It is twilight as they return to the hotel.
A softness of shadow smiles upon illusion. Margaret disappears into the bathroom. She wants to be young: she is young thanks to love. The cold water stiffens her breasts which swell with desire. She curves her body under the icy shower. She has thrown over civilization. She is just a naked woman and nothing else, a woman who incites the male.
The male! There he is beside her, nude and supple. Again she is going to faint away in his arms. She will begin the eternal gestures again and regain lost paradise.
Her exaltation grows as the darkness thickens. She goes into the room.
On the bed all the parcels are lying unwrapped and there is her lover preening himself in front of the mirror, dressed in an incredible collection of all that she had bought him today.
CHAPTER V
The days went by. She burdened her lover with a tenderness which he found indecent. She would have liked to keep him for herself alone. She needed to analyze out loud to him the nature of their love. He listened to these cries of the civilized beast. Her exaltation aroused in him a sensation of horror. This carnal lyricism overwhelmed him. He would have liked more mystery. The shamelessness of this woman who wandered naked around the room shocked him. He was bored by her caresses. As she would lean towards him and sing the pagan love songs he would think how he could cut it short and ask her for a new suit. In spite of her excesses, however, she still knew how to retain the supremacy of the white race and often ,the fainting slave would become the imperious mistress. Then she put on an ironical smile which he could not bear. She raved against the weakness of her flesh, and cried out her disgust at being a soul bound to the material. He turned his head away and let the storm pass. Sight would reconcile them. First she would take on the timidity of a virgin and then the fear of not being loved would take hold of her again. Quite lucidly she would analyze each reaction of her lover. He would smirk or pout. Then suddenly, as if to dominate this woman who humiliated him through her past he would bite her insolent mouth, tearing the flesh which was waiting to be forced into submission. She groaned in rhythm with his great body and the frenzy of the senses eventually dispersed her soul's anxiety.
When eventually she was satisfied, he would move away horrified, looking for a fresh part of the bed and wiping the sweat from his chest with the sheet. If only he could get away from this clinging embrace, and flirt with young girls, go to the cinema with them and sleep with them hastily, fearfully and silently.
As dawn came he slipped softly from the bed, took a quick shower, dressed carefully and perfumed himself. Then he wrote a letter for Margaret. In the corridor the boy was as always sleeping. He gave him the envelope.
"Give it to the white lady and wake her before ten o'clock."
When she woke up, Margaret stretched out her arms, expecting to touch a loving body close to her. Disappointed, she called the boy, who brought her the letter. She hesitated before opening it. At last she plucked up courage.
Dear Lady, Please may I ask you to be of service to me. This is a service about my home town. I owe my landlord two pounds and someone else three. I ask you please to give me this money so that I can settle with these chaps. I am counting on you as you know and you can be sure that I will give you complete satisfaction.
I would say that you are my mother in all things and that I shall be your son. I should think myself ungrateful if I did not give you complete satisfaction. After what you have already given me, I think a lot about it and I do not think of leaving you. Since I have known you I am in love with you. My shirts and jerseys should be bought today. And the hat you can get as well, because I need that too. In the expectation of favorable action on your part, please accept my heartfelt regards. Your humble servant who will never leave you.
She crumpled up the letter, dressed and ran out towards the fresh air. But on the porch she stopped and gave the money to the porter. She fled off into the street, prey to a sudden anguish. She returned to the hotel. Had he come back? Yes he had come back and picked up the money. Then she murmured very quickly: "If he comes back, tell him that I am waiting; I am waiting...."
Soon she stopped bombarding him with questions. She replaced her verbal tenderness by gifts. Just for him she exhausted all the shops of the city. He accepted these gifts with a bored expression.
She surprised him by going through mail order catalogues. She ordered things from the big London stores.
He unwrapped the parcels with childish delight, and she was amazed to find him again as the big overgrown child. But soon these novelties did not satisfy him any more.
"What do you want?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Give me money."
That morning Margaret was looking at the latest photo of her lover. He was in a new suit.
He is quite ridiculous, she thought. Now the past is beginning again. I wanted to live with him as they did when the world was created, to find nature and the simple life. All I have done is to corrupt him, making him a caricature of a white man. Instead of going to him, I have attracted him to me. What could I teach him except what has disappointed me for a long time? Am I not disgusted enough by myself and everything?
She leaned over the photo trying vainly to recapture the image of the fawn that had appeared to her one night, through the stiff collar and the flannel suit.
"Ah!," she said aloud, "there is still time, but we must leave this place."
She closed her eyes and imagined a native village lost in the bush, on the edges of a slow and muddy-colored river. She would wear the clothes of a native woman, the bright and simple-colored robes. She dreamed of a simple hut, a hut made of wattle and daub with just the furniture that was necessary. In the morning they would bathe in the river and at noon they would eat fresh papaya mangoes, rice and chicken and peanuts.
It was quite obvious they would have to leave.
In the evening she spoke about it to her lover. First of all, he seemed a little astonished, but then the thought of showing off his new splendor to his own people decided him.
But he wanted to take all that he had with him. He packed it all carefully away into the cases which she bought for him; all the suits and ties, the silk shirts and fancy shoes. He also made her take all her makeup with her but she protested that from then on she was going to dress like a native.
"You can always give them to my sisters."
"Alright, but since I do everything you want, how about my reward?"
He smiled showing his white teeth.
"I have bought something for you too."
He opened the wardrobe and pulled out a long rawhide whip. He cracked it in the air.
"Come here," he ordered. "Come here and open my fly. Bring my prick out. Suck it, first the balls. Carefully ... that's enough ... Now take your dress off....
When she was quite naked, he ordered: "Stretch out on the bed ... Put your face on the pillow ... and don't scream ... if you do, watch out!"
The hide whipped through the air and hit her rump with a nasty little sound. The woman's shoulders quivered.
"Now wait for it, I am going to hit harder...."
For he knew unconsciously that fear made both pleasure and pain more intense.
The whip whistled down, each time leaving a long pink mark on her skin. A groan broke out from the depths of the pillow and Margaret half opened her thighs on the bed. Then with little flicks of the whip, Thomas teased the thin opening until drops of blood formed. From his open fly his great tool stuck out proudly.
"You didn't do too badly, come and suck me."
Avidly Margaret threw herself on the rod that was being offered to her. He held her neck and thrust his dick in until it must have touched her throat so that the contractions of her glottis would caress the glans. He growled:
If you puke, trollop, I'll kill you . .
Humbly she remained on her knees.
She fondled his balls with one hand, moving her stretched fingers across his asshole, and with the other she rubbed up the cock that she was sucking.
"That's enough," Thomas ordered disengaging himself. "Do you want to be fucked in the front or in the back?"
"Just fuck me," groaned Margaret.
"Alright, stretch out again, but this time on your back and put the pillow over your face. I am only going to whip you three times but skillfully this time. The first on the right thigh, the second on the left thigh, and the third on your ass. And don't make a sound or I shall put you under the shower without fucking you at all ... "
Margaret did as she was told. All her tensed body was prepared for the pain. Thomas took his time and then the rawhide whip suddenly lashed down on the right and then left thighs.
"Wait for it, here's the third one...."
The woman tried to tense her muscles even more. Thomas looked at her ass quivering in expectation of the burning lash.
Suddenly he made up his mind and, taking the handle of woven thongs, he thrust it into her open twat. Margaret was suffocated. He revolved the handle slowly in the shivering aperture.
"Are you happy now? Does that give you enough of a kick, slut?"
She groaned.
"Enough, Thomas, fuck me please . .
He pulled the handle out quickly.
"Alright now. You should be able to satisfy yourself with that. Come and suck me off."
Margaret shuffled forward. Her cunt was hurting her.
"I don't want you to look unhappy while I come in your mouth. Rub yourself up at the same time so that we come together."
She had hoped that after the whipping he would fuck her. But she resigned herself and was surprised to find how sensitive to pleasure was her bruised flesh.
She almost fainted away as she began to feel her button. Her teeth touched the mighty prick.
"My God, she's almost capable of biting me. You don't deserve it but...."
He threw her on the bed and thrust the whole of his cock into her vagina.
In a frenzy, she opened and closed her arms.
"Darling, darling...!"
She came immediately, letting out a flood of fuck juice all over Thomas' balls. He thrust in even deeper and came as well.
CHAPTER VI
The following day they sailed on the little steamer to Tallear.
When the boat arrived it seemed that the whole of the population was waiting for it. Thomas' family hurried towards Margaret. The old father dressed in a dark cloak, and his two fat and voluble wives, embraced her before showing her to the little tile-covered shack where they were going to live.
It had been built by a former trader. It had a large brass double bed and even a Victorian cupboard. She had to open the bags right away and give out the presents. Margaret divided up her dresses among her lover's sisters who screamed with joy. Half-naked children filed towards her asking for a present. She laughed and threw them trinkets. Soon there was a general undressing as the young natives tried on the London suits and Thomas, throwing off his civilized attire, put on a large embroidered cloak which his brother's wife had just given him.
Margaret followed their example and draped herself in a blue and yellow costume. Then all the women congratulated her and kissed her loudly.
While she stood in front of the mirror tying a silk scarf around her head, she heard her lover chasing everyone out of the shack and shutting the door.
"Here it's my house," he shouted proudly.
She turned round. He took her in his arms and carried her over to the bed. She cried out with pleasure and clenched her hands round his naked loins.
The first days were delightful for Margaret. In the mornings they went out in a canoe on the river. Naked, the man guided the boat and listened to the slightest noise in the brush.
"That's a gazelle," he would say.
They would tie up the canoe and stretch out on the hot sand. They came back starving and devoured hungrily the meals prepared for them by the natives. This was Margaret's least pleasant moment, for they were back in civilization again and she had to speak. For the blacks, the government, the taxes, the price of peanuts, all this was reality, while for Margaret they were just boring contingencies.
She hurried to finish eating, and to take refuge in the calm of the siesta.
Not that she was looking for sensual delirium. On the contrary, she felt herself taken over by a strange sweetness which made her both maternal and maidenly. She stretched out by the Negro. She leaned her head on the hollow of his shoulder. She watched him sleeping and with a light hand stroked his curly hair. She had a confused notion that he had her in his power. But he was becoming more hers, than she was becoming his. She despised simple pleasure. She dreamed that this great being had once been quite small and that she had carried him in her breast.
When he awoke she threw herself into his arms, not so much as the lover who acknowledges the domination of the male, but as a happy mother. When he wanted to have her, sometimes she would push him away, and seek refuge in the toilet.
She would come back draped in a native cloak. She would throw a piece of cloth over his virility. She took him by the hands to make him get up, and while he was languidly stretching she would kiss him on the cheek.
"I am your little sister," she whispered.
She wished to bring him back little by little to the native life, in which she wished to immerse herself one day. She told him all the village scandal. She asked for news about his girl friends. She told him that such and such a girl was in love with him. He would laugh.
"Aren't you jealous?"
She laughed as well.
"No, I'm a friend, a pal...."
She tried to prove it.
From then on she went with him when he went out with his friends. They opened up the drinks and sat down in the sand, and she bought drinks for everyone. The night went on: feminine laughs and whispers were heard from behind closed doors. Gradually the group dispersed and the boys disappeared towards the lighted shacks where they would drink mint tea or make love.
Margaret remained alone with her lover.
"Aren't you sleepy?"
She did not reply directly.
"What about you?"
"No, I'm not ... "
"Go and see your girl friend. I'll wait for you outside."
She herself guided him along the dark alleys towards the shack which the local gossipers had pointed out to her during the day.
"Go on," she repeated. "There's still a light on behind the shutters and the girl is pretty."
He ended up by obeying her but he experienced a sensation of deception which spoiled his pleasure.
Sometimes both of them went to the house of Consuela, a mulatto of very mixed ancestry, who was not only content with selling her own superior charms, but who also exercised the profession of brothel keeper.
Young servants, lying down on mats, awaited the pleasure of the clients. There were women there of every race, color and size.
Margaret would stretch out beside them and order lemonade. She would stay there a long time just drinking and thinking of her lover. Sometimes one of the women would get up and dance while the rest clapped their hands.
They would be interrupted by Negroes who had come to seek their pleasure. They would lean their bicycle against the fence and switch off the lamps, looking curiously at Margaret, and begin to talk to Consuela. She was looking for money; they tried to put her off with promises but she was unwavering. She was an honest woman; she didn't make love for nothing.
They made up their minds at last and pulled some coins out of their pockets and she would conduct them to her room. There the discussion raged on. But Consuela always had the last word. After manifold protests, suddenly the Negro would find his wallet and in this wallet a ten shilling note. For this price he had a right to one of the girls lying down in the courtyard. While she called one of the charges, the black could be seen admiring himself in front of the mirror, combing his hair and perfuming himself. Soon a shadow slipped along the wall. The door closed again. The candle was blown out. Margaret held her breath so that she could hear. But the blacks were quite and not a single cry betrayed them.
The occupants of the room would then come out. The woman was adjusting her robe, the man was smiling. He would stay a little longer to have a drink with Consuela, and then turn on his bicycle-lamp and cycle away into the night. The woman was waiting for this signal to go home. She had made some money. There was no point in staying any longer. Then Margaret would get up and call to her lover. The first few days he obeyed unwillingly.
"I want to sleep here, there's a girl who I like." Margaret seemed so indifferent to this statement that all his desire flowed away. He decided to go with her, but he did not forgive her this gentleness, this passiveness which prevented him from playing the man's part.
After they left, Consuela would spread out the mats, talking to her servants.
"This white woman, she's completely spoiled! Too much money: that's the trouble with her."
She picked up the bottles left behind on the table. "I wonder what the hell they came here for?" The servants burst out laughing.
CHAPTER VII
"What are you looking for?" asked Margaret coming into the room suddenly.
The drawers of the chest were completely empty. With one glance she saw her lover had packed everything into his suitcases.
"What are you looking for?" she asked again.
"Money."
'What do you want money for?"
"So I can go away. I've had enough of this. All the men are making fun of me. They say that I am your prisoner. I want to go back to Tananarive."
She tried to stop him. Wasn't he happy? If he wanted anything wouldn't it be easy enough to have it sent? He shouldn't listen to his stupid friends. Basically they were all jealous of him, and if he left, his friends would be the first to want to take his place.
"Since you like savages, stay with them. Just give me the money for my ticket."
"I will not let you be so stupid."
Then suddenly he broke down and cried.
"Ohl I am no longer a man. Now a woman is telling me what to do and I can't even slap her."
He got up and seized her hand.
"You have bewitched me. Give me some money. I am not the right boy for you. You are no longer a woman, you are a bitch, and you will find enough dogs around here to satisfy your desires."
His heated anger showed in his face and suddenly Margaret was moved by this frustrated vehemence and his puerile rage. Worried memories were troubling her. He read the desire in her eyes. He held her close to him.
"When are you going?" she asked.
But she knew that she would leave with him and that she was wrong.
In town they took a flat which she furnished with good taste. He watched this without saying a word. Several days later he had added his own touch to it.
He hung from the wall little Japanese mats which he covered in picture postcards, photographs of friends and free pictures from Algerian cigarette packets in which naked and overdeveloped women stretched their arms in the air to strengthen their sagging breasts. He added several trinkety bazaar vases filled with artificial flowers and imitation plastic lace for the armchairs, all the tables and the chairs.
In the evening he entertained friends, huge lolling Negroes with whom he got drunk and played interminable games of cards. Margaret still retained enough dignity not to be present at these meetings. In her lonely room the hours went by, marked by the cuckoo of a revolting clock which Thomas had bought from a Syrian. Sometimes she would put a shawl over her naked shoulders and stride toward the door.
"Come, darling," she implored him.
He would turn and swear at her like a trooper. Then they all burst out laughing.
One day he said to her: "I ordered myself two new suits for your birthday."
She understood then why he had carefully circled around the date of her birthday on the calendar.
Another day he opened up in front of her all his cupboards. Proudly he took an inventory. Twenty suits were spread out over the chairs. Many colors shone from the pile of silk shirts. The ties looked like a mass of writhing snakes on the bed. Then he opened up his jewel case and counted the watches, the platinum cuff links and the gold tie pins. He smiled happily. She put her hand on his shoulder.
"Do you love me?"
He moved away.
"Admit that you have never seen a better dressed Malagasy."
CHAPTER VIII
That evening Margaret had gone out with Thomas. They had wandered along the edge of the beach. Thomas had met some friends as well as a mulatto woman whom he wanted to have. The woman had taken him to her place. She had invited Margaret in as well, but she had declined. She was used to waiting outside until her lover had finished making love. And really she took a strange pleasure in it. She could imagine their movements so vividly just by moving her legs against each other and she ended up by really coming. It was a slow sensual pleasure which gradually took hold of her, but it was so insidious that she stood up unsteadily.
She had just finished her pleasurable experience when a footstep made her jump. A man, a white man, had stopped in front of her. He was about thirty-five with a sallow skin and dark curly hair: he had heard Margaret's sighs.
"One would almost have said," he murmured smilingly, "that you were in the process of making love...."
I was making love," Margaret blurted out. And immediately she wondered why she had admitted it.
"Come," said the stranger, "and let us talk about it all."
What followed was like a dream. Margaret got up and followed the man. They walked slowly across the sand, not saying anything, just looking at the sea.
"When I met you," explained Margaret, "I was waiting for my lover who was making love to a Negress. My lover is a Negro, too...."
"That's not very original, in spite of what people think," observed the stranger. "What is more surprising is that you seem to love him."
"It is not that I love him as he is, but I am in love with the idea that I have of him."
"That's not very original, either. People always love others through the conception they have of them and when this conception is backed up by a big prick it easily becomes an obsession."
Silence reigned for a moment between the two speakers then the man continued carelessly.
"I, too, have an extremely beautiful prick. Would you like to see it?"
And without waiting for her to reply he drew out of his trousers an enormous cock which was bigger than either the cock of Thomas who had discovered death, or of the Thomas who was in search of life.
"That's a good Christian prick, and they are always more beautiful than a black man's. They are usually circumcised so that their organ has no mystery about it. Look how different my prick is. It is half covered by soft skin. If I pull the foreskin back, the tip comes out fresh and soft, like the center of a rose among the soft petals. The covering of skin gives my cock an exquisite sensitivity which, of course, I am the first to benefit from, but which also assures the clitoris of my partners wonderful sensations. At the moment Madam you can see my tool in a semi-erected state provoked by the sight of your charms and your disarray. But if you would just bring your fingers to play on it, no prettier hand would ever have brandished such a royal scepter."
Margaret obeyed and placed her hand on the stranger's dick. It looked immense in her little hand. She felt it becoming hard as iron. She caressed it softly. The skin had the texture of silk, but an electric quality as welL
"Let us sit down here," said the stranger, choosing a corner of the beach sheltered by a bush of wild carnations and fragrant herbs. "I give you permission to rub my tool provided that you give me permission to put my finger beneath your skirts and fondle a button which I consider quite charming."
No sooner said than done. But the game did not last long.
"My tool," explained the man suddenly disengaging himself, "is too satisfied with your hand and I imagine, judging by the amount of liquor that your clitoris is spreading out, that it does not find my finger unpleasant We should not take advantage of the best things, but should get to know each other more fully. So unbutton your blouse. Oh! The pretty little breasts! Charming globes pressed so gently together. My tongue is eager. Allow me to cover them with kisses and to lick them. I like to feel your strawberry nipples stiffening beneath my lips. But please touch my cock. It is beginning to think that my mouth is quite selfish. And my prick has good reason to want part of the feast...."
He got up then and placed his shuddering prick between the two nestling breasts and began to fuck her like that.
"If I did not control myself," he said after a moment, "I would come between your breasts. But love is only perfect when it is reciprocal and I doubt that in that way you would experience an equal pleasure to mine. Now your turn to let go...."
He lifted up her skirts and slipping his face between her thighs, succeeded in sucking her cunt. He licked and nibbled the button, plunging his nose into the charming hole which was gradually beginning to come alive.
"There," he said getting up, "your cunt has now been brought to the same degree of excitement as my prick. The slightest gesture, the merest touch will release both our come juices. We are two quivering poles of a magnet who are radiating love. The beach is deserted. What are we risking? No one will see us."
Joining the action to the word, he tore off his shirt, unbuckled his belt and let his pants slip down. There he was, healthy and athletic, erecting his cock towards a sky filled with indulgent stars.
Overwhelmed by a giddy desire Margaret imitated him, and soon she was naked, too.
"I am very fond of fishing," said the stranger, "and sometimes I start at dawn. I have a little rush hut at the other end of the beach where we will be better off than here.
Flowers surrounded the cabin. The stranger showed off his roses.
"The Sweet Delights are the best. They come from seeds which my aunt Agatha once offered to the governor and which the wind blew away."
The inside was amusingly untidy. Fishing nets were spread all around. A prick carved in wood supported a lantern which lit up with its flickering light, two phalluses hanging from the ceiling. A divan covered by cotton cloth and a whole series of white metal boxes on a side-board completed the decor.
Margaret let herself sink into the divan.
"I want to make love to you like no one has before," he said.
The sea breeze wafted into the deserted cabin.
When the two lovers recovered from their happy faint they looked at each other with infinite tenderness. She erased from her memory all the Thomases, and the traces of all those who had formed part of an experience which was already long.
"Oh!" he said, "excuse me, I forgot to introduce myself. I am the honorable George Smith."
"Heavens! My cousin!" cried Margaret, who added to her love of love, a passion for genealogy.
They lived happily ever after, and had no children.
BOOK TWO
CHAPTER I
John Smallwood and I had just had a jug with Dickson, who was a real buddy of John's since they both came from Cardiff. Dickson, the real sporty type, had just opened a new nightclub on Lisle Street called the "Tango" which was doing a fantastic business.
All the bright young things in London come there to get felt up by the body-culture men, the orchestra is good, the drinks unwatered and the show first rate: they turn people away every night.
It was the end of June and for once it was hot-I had left my flat in Swiss Cottage to get some air. It was really a night for love, the pros were out in full force. I had met John at Cambridge Circus and we were sauntering down Charing Cross Road when he suddenly stopped right in front of the "Tabu," a club which was owned by Hans from Hamburg, the local gang leader who was not only a squealer but a real shit to boot. He stopped dead as if he had hit a brick wall.
"What the hell are you looking at now? Sputnik IV or Bardot's buttocks...."
He did not move an inch but motioned me forward.
What I saw then made my heart lost a beat.
"What is it now? Have you seen these babes before?"
I give them a quick once-over and whistle with admiration, a connoisseur's whistle, of course. For I hadn't seen anything like that anywhere else. What on earth are they doing here? It is obvious that they do not fit into the place. Two beautiful little pieces, the deluxe models with the special chassis. One was a brunette in her twenties and the other a blonde about eighteen, dressed simply but with real class, probably models.
You can see it right from the start, they were not dressed up by some 'uncle' but by Daddy ... and a Daddy who is no pauper either.
"Are we going to take a look?"
"Let's go in...."
As we went in we could feel atmosphere get cool-the place is full of the racing crowd, but not the big boys only the small time lot, and I notice Alfonso and Giuseppe, the strong-arm men.
"Good evening, gentlemen."
Alfonso grins, showing his yellow stained teeth.
We sit down near the sweet things and wait.
"Two beers."
They did not seem to want our business much, for the beer took years to arrive, but we're not in any hurry!
The two girls sipped daintily on the straws of their Coca Cola and winked at each other from time to time. They must really find the atmosphere exciting.
There was quite a lot of activity now as the boys tried to make themselves interesting by swapping shitty jokes that were already old when Adam was a lad, and which show the punch-line a mile away.
"But I tell you man, only the Italians can make love. The English have no balls, all they need is one touch on the knob and they're all finished. But me by God, I give it six times to the women who please me."
All this was spoken while giving the girls the eye.
They, the poor things, are quite upset by it all. Giuseppe wants to make his presence felt. From all accounts any woman that he runs through is finished for the rest of her days.
Those types are spoiling our approach ... I take a long cool look at the girls; they are really something. Both are different types but both have real class. They must be from good families since they have that kind of freshness that a kept woman does not have, even though she may be a stunner. But those girls have no problems, their future is sure.
They certainly are well stacked, particularly the blonde. Just looking at her tits pushing out under her dress and her beautifully rounded ass makes my mouth water.
The two types begin to discuss something while still looking at the girls.
Why in hell have they come here? Just curious for new experiences? Probably ... If they stay here much longer they will certainly get them.
The conference of the strong-arm men is now finished.
The dolls notice that the atmosphere is now changing. The silence is charged with meaning, and they pick up their handbags and call the waiter who looks the other way. He moved at a sign from Giuseppe but only to shut the door.
Giuseppe and Alfonso move towards the girls. I wink at Sam and we are both ready: we cannot allow this-this material is much too good for those ugly mugs.
The two Italians come close to the dames who are now panicking. This is the moment for us: we get up and sit beside them.
"May we? Thank you." .
"These ladies are with us, boys."
In the other part of the room the types begin to murmur. I get up and face Giuseppe quite calmly. His face is not too pleasant, he is probably thinking of his razor, maybe just about to use it. I square up to him. He doesn't look that tough, and anyway I have a soda siphon near my hand.
Quietly John has put his hand in his pocket and looks Alfonso up and down while drawing on his cigarette.
Giuseppe doesn't like to be pushed around in front of the boys, even less does he like to see the babes being taken right under his nose. He feels in his pocket ... he hesitates ... he is a good slasher, he should know how to use his blade, but he knows that it is a risk with me ... I have twenty pounds advantage and a few inches as well.
If looks could kill, I would have been vaporized.
"Okay, Reade, it was a mistake, see you some other time."
"Whenever it suits you pal."
They go and sit down quietly and we take advantage of the moment to get a real look at the little beauties and to take hold of their arms.
"Ladies, I don't know if you realized what was going on, but without us you would have had a bad time. These are the worst blackguards in Soho, they respect no one."
I feel the arm of the blonde shiver as she realized in what kind of position they had been.
John began to speak.
"I think we did rather well; we would have knocked a few of them down but there was too much stacked on their side."
"All the same, they wouldn't have dared, so close to Charing Cross, it's quite a risk," smiled the brunette.
"Dear me, don't you ever read the papers, even next to a police station they would have; this is their territory, they do what they like here, and at the first sign of trouble the locals move out without seeing or hearing anything ... Discretion is the better part of valor...."
"But what do the police do then?"
"They can't do everything ... so they give parking tickets in the respectable areas, it's not so risky."
"But you are both quite pale, let's go somewhere more pleasant, the change of air will do you good. We can introduce ourselves there."
We took them down to Mayfair and the journey there seemed to calm them and give them back some confidence. We went into a small pub and I ordered four brandies and introduced myself.
"Martin Reade, electronic engineer; my friend is John Smallwood a medical student."
The two girls nod and smile at us.
"Angela Fitzbrading," says the brunette.
I look at the blonde who hesitates and quite obviously is trying to think up a false name. Angela helps her out.
"My friend is Frances Smith. She is in a bit of a spot because she has come out without telling her parents."
I think to myself: you, my dear, are probably called Frances, but Smith never and you certainly don't want your family to know that you came around here
"Well, all's well that ends well, as the bishop said, so let's forget that nasty incident."
We drank our brandies like tough guys.
"I would have ordered whisky but they would have served us something quite revolting. It is very difficult to find a good Scotch around."
Sam, who is thinking along the same lines as I am, speaks up.
"Scotch-I know where we can get hold of the real McCoy and not watered down at that."
"Where?"
"A small club just around the corner, in Curzon Street; it's small and amusing, and there at least your life and virtue will be respected."
"Shall we move?"
Angela, the brunette, who seems to be the more forward of the two, nods her head and Frances follows without saying anything.
What John did not tell them was, that it is not every day that we get the opportunity to run over something as fresh as this, and that we have no intention of letting it pass by.
When we enter, the room is half empty. The orchestra is playing away to give some background atmosphere and succeeding not too badly. On the dance floor a few couples are locked together, and do not waste any effort moving around.
The whisky arrives, and is not too bad at all. The two girls begin to feel better; their eyes are shining and they begin to start talking. John takes over the brunette.
"Angela, would you like to dance?"
She accepts immediately. John gets up and takes her to the dance floor. From the way she has her arm around him and is snuggling close I am sure that they are going to leave us alone during the evening. I order more whisky and chat with Frances.
"But how could you have entered such a dive ... have you never been around this way before?"
"Angela has but I haven't. It was her idea to show me some places with really exciting atmosphere, and I won't forget the atmosphere in a hurry. We were at one of those terrible cocktail parties and the conversation was getting, my dear, ever so very artistic, and we were slowly going mad. Angela suggested that we move out and get some excitement."
"She was right, you certainly haven't been bored, and you have found some of the real atmosphere ... but Angela seems to know her way around doesn't she?"
"She told me that she came here on her own to waste a few hours; she said that here people made love like animals and that it is quite delightful. I should not have come with her."
"You shouldn't say that, otherwise we would never have met."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that at all."
To make up, she gives me her hand and smiles, and I take it in my great paw and press it to my lips. She does not take it away.
I take a look at the floor.
Angela has her eyes closed and is gripping John around the neck. Her belly is pressed tight against his and moves in time with the rhythm of the dance.
I know John well; in an hour's time he will make her dance to another tune, clothed a little more scantily and in a much less crowded area. I take another good look at Frances. I am really attracted by that superb rump. I would like to know whether it is as kissable as the dress makes you think ... my hands are itching to find out.
Now I think the big question: shall I knock her off right away or shall I heat her up a bit more? All right, I'll start now and we shall see what happens; she is probably like Angela and likes a surprise.
"Don't you think that our being here is upsetting your friend. Let's be reasonable and leave them alone, she will appreciate it."
Frances takes a look at the floor.
"I think you are right."
I pay for the drinks, wink at John and we leave together.
CHAPTER II
On the pavement I take her arm.
"Look, I am going to show you this neighborhood and no one will say anything to you."
We moved along Park Lane and then down the Bayswater Road. The dear girl had never been there before.
"But what are all these white girls doing with the colored men?"
"They are working for them my sweet, and they really work hard."
"But why do they do it?"
"Well because they are frightened for one thing of getting beaten up. Those West Indians can be very vicious. And also because they get a better sensation from a colored man."
"But what about the relatives of these girls?"
"Oh, they're usually very respectable citizens in the country somewhere, who would not admit that their daughters were in the love profession."
All the pimps looked at us: the little beauty I had on my arm really hit them between the legs, and the girls just looked daggers. Several of the boys thought about getting in my way but soon moved out when I looked them in the eye.
I stop in a doorway, turn her around a little and gave her a long and passionate kiss. She does not flinch so it's in the bag.
We move down the road; I know a hotel quite near in Holland Park, the Excelsior which is the best one in the area.
Just a few steps more and here we are.
In front of the entrance to the hotel, she stiffens and turns back from the lighted entrance. I take hold of her elbow and push her gently in.
"No, I don't want to." , A young bum passes and stares at the scene, wondering if he is going to do the Galahad act and save the maiden.
I give him a look and he immediately moves off; he would make a good cop ... he is sensible. We can't stay here forever.
"Come on, Frances, I have some tremendous records upstairs. Some early Armstrong and really good at that. You cannot miss out on this."
"But.-.."
"But me no buts."
I make her cross the threshold. A hand on her shoulder and the other round her rump, and up we go, en route for paradise.
She is breathless and cannot resist much, and I am behind her with my hands on her ass pushing her up the stairs.
Mary, the chambermaid, swiftly opens up number 13 for me; it's my favorite room. She is certainly appreciative of my prey tonight for when I slip her the usual, she whistles in admiration.
I lock the door and turn towards Frances. She does not look happy.
"What is happening, where are your records and your gramophone? What is the joke?"
"You could call it a joke: as for music, don't worry, you are going to play it: chamber music! ... Ha! Hal That's good, eh? You are going to sing and I am going to provide the instruments: have you heard of the clarinet with counterweight? ... Experts say that I am a maestro, a real artist. Come, let's not waste our time for life is short and you won't regret it."
I sit down on the bed and take off my socks and shoes. I like to feel the carpet under my feet, I just hate wearing shoes. I take off my jacket and tie ... Now my special striptease, off with my shirt ... and there is my massy chest.
But this doll is queer; what is the matter with her? Usually at this stage of undress the girls are leaping at me.
I take a look in the mirror; just as muscular as ever. All of six feet tall and a hundred and eighty pounds of solid brawn.
Maybe she has seen enough beautiful male bodies already. Just wait a minute girl, I have something else to show you: my secret weapon which even in retreat gives no quarter-no woman has ever resisted its power unscathed.
She shrinks back against the wall as if she would like to be able to pass through it I have never seen that before, usually I have to calm them down at this point ... it is they who open my fly when I am not fast enough.
"But what's the matter with you? Get ready, even if you have something to hide don't worry about it. No one is perfect, just keep your bra on if that worries you."
I unbuckle my trousers and let them slip down, then off with my underpants. "Oh!"
She is dumbfounded this chick ... she looks with staring eyes and jaw dropped, as if it was a bazooka aimed right at her.
"I see what the matter is, Madam has not got her maid and she doesn't know how to undress herself on her own; well just wait and I will help you...."
I move towards her.
She recoils in terror, her eyes still staring at my instrument, and tries to open the door.
"It's no use, I have the key here."
"Don't come any closer, let me out."
"You're dreaming, my dear, this isn't Harrods! Here the motto is satisfaction or your money back. The house has never had any complaints, the customers are always delighted ... believe me, it will be the same for you."
"I want to go."
"You are not cooperating, we will go afterwards ..
I take hold of her trapeze dress, they're very practical those dresses, and peel it off just like skinning a rabbit, in spite of her efforts to keep it on.
She comes out of it good enough to eat, just a strapless bra, a postage stamp pantie and a garter belt.
"You mean you wanted to hide all that from me. You are crazy, you are really well-assembled, let's take a good look."
I sit down and fill my eyes with this gorgeous thing.
"You have what it takes just everywhere. You have a pretty face, but you can find that anywhere. What I like about you is something else. You really have class, you weren't put out early to roam the streets, you would still look classy with your ass in the air; come on, take off your panties, I am going to give you some of that atmosphere you have been looking for. I am interested to see how a classy dame takes it...."
She remains quiet and motionless, her eyes never moving from my magnificent field artillery.
"Don't be frightened, it doesn't bite, take a hold of it."
I get up, but just at that moment she slips past me and makes for the window. I catch her by the hair.
"What is the matter with you? I have known some pretty peculiar women but never one like you before."
"Let me go or I shall break the window and call for help."
"Go ahead." I open the window.
"There you are, scream as loud as you like, and you can tell the cops what you are doing in a hotel, dressed as you are with a naked man. Go on, call them, they will be delighted to know who you are..
I hit the spot there. She slams the window shut: Daddy certainly doesn't want any scandal.
"Come on, girl, let's really get integrated...." Still she is undecided. "Don't be nervous now, there is no cause for alarm. I have all that is needed to take care of everything...." She does not murmur.
"You know, you're not the first one to feel like that I have known women who worry, but once they were given the first send-off it was quite impossible to hold them back: they could have exhausted six men and still have asked for more."
"For the last time, give me the key, I want to go."
"It's too late now, look what a state you've got me into."
I am being truthful. My cock is jutting straight out, and my balls are aching with impatience. But I must calm her down or I may have trouble.
"You know you really have something; I confess that I like you very much...."
I run my hand over her shoulder but she shrugs it off.
With the other hand I snap open her bra: and there they are, two saucy tits, firmly standing out, with their pink tips pointing away from her.
She crosses her hands over her breasts and I seize the moment to get hold of her panties and pull them down, but nothing doing, she has opened her legs. Too bad, I shall have to rip the material.
I get my two hands to it and-there she blows! All she has left on is the belt and the stockings, but she can stay that way, it's more exciting.
This girl does not fit any pattern; just now she opened her legs, then she crossed them just like an iron curtain, but anyway I can at least easily push her onto the bed. I lie down on her and kiss her wherever I can. The stupid girl is still trying to stop me. I squeeze her hard little breasts against my chest. That feels good ... she won't let me kiss her ... too bad, I'll take a nipple. She scratches me: that always thrills me, for my skin is thick ... I run around the thighs a little but that isn't enough ... I must be tender but little Johnny down there calls me to order, he wants to get in there, he claims his rights ... I try to reason with her.
"Don't try to fight me you silly girl, just let yourself go, you'll see how good it is ... is it too big for you? You think it will hurt you? You all think like that, but just the opposite, it's better that way."
I try to kiss her again but she doesn't want me to. I grab both her thighs and force them apart: she is pretty muscular and puts up a good effort. Slowly they open and reveal the blonde beauty of her bush. I force a little more and there is the dear little cunt, poking its red nose out from among the clinging hairs.
This picture deserves a genius to paint it and Johnny shivers with joy at the sight of the dark red half-open lips. I move my rod forward between her thighs and knock on the half open door.
As the naked glans touches the delicate parts, she reacts quite unexpectedly, and scratches me in the face before I can move backwards.
Now I am going to get angry.
"Do that again and I shall give you something that you will regret."
To stop that happening again I grab hold of her hands, push her on to her back with her ass just on the edge of the mattress and her legs hanging over the side of the bed.
She is boiling with rage. "You swine, you'll pay for this." She tries to spit at me, but it falls back on her nose. She won't try that again. "Swine, swine!"
I try to insinuate myself into the crack, but she is wriggling so much that I cannot get in.
She grows tired now, and I can hold her two fists in my right hand, while sending the left out on reconnaissance. I caress her fleshy mound, how soft it is ... you can feel that it hasn't had much use, it's almost brand new. I move my hand down and touch the cunt, but she doesn't even react, the lips are closed and dry!
With one finger I spread them and explore, the surrounding districts which are soft. I feel the little button; it is well situated and of a good size. I give the clitoris a slight caress which makes her jump, and continue my exploration. She is completely dry. If I don't get some lubricant in there the piston will stick up in the cylinder!
I spit into the hollow of my hand and moisten my naked tool. Now everything is ready.
With two fingers I keep the lips apart, and with my knees I keep her thighs from moving. Now I put the tip of my tool on the vulva and gently push it forward. At least I try to push it forward, for there is a peculiar kind of resistance.
What a stupid bastard I am, I hadn't thought of that; she is a virgin. Too late now, here I am and here.
I stay. I'll give it to her even if this is the last opportunity of my life, even if I have to go to jug for it.
Full of joy, little John tries to force his way through. She cries out.
"You brute, you are hurting me. I don't want to, let me go!"
She moves her hips around to try and make me get off, but it only helps me to penetrate further. I force a little more, the glans is almost home now.
You don't often get the chance to fuck a woman who is as narrow as she is. It's really something extra special in the way of a sensation.
I take my hand from her cunt, and hold down her hands again. In the position I am in there is little chance that she could make me get out of her hole. I wait a little, I don't want to be brutal and tear her to pieces.
Stretched out on the bed she seems like a huge butterfly pinned onto a setting board. She has now ceased to fight, and is biting her lips to stop herself crying out, but from her closed eyelids pearly tears run down onto her milky skin.
God, isn't she beautiful stretched out like that underneath me! The black belt which is round her belly makes her seem slimmer than ever.
In the confusion her garters have snapped and her stockings have fallen down. Now I can see her lovely downy thighs. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever run through.
Her arms, which are twisted backwards, make her hard tits point out from her body. I would like to nibble one in my teeth like a strawberry ... I can't wait any longer, my balls are really aching.
I put just a little more pressure on ... There is still resistance, but we are making progress. I keep on pushing and suddenly the resistance ceases.
A shrill cry.
I have opened her up, and slipped right through to the depths of her belly. She screamed loudly at first, then she groaned, like a child who is ill and doesn't know why. Now that the damage is done she stops fighting, but the tears are still streaming down. Maybe it is the pain, but it is more likely rage and humiliation at being treated like this by an ordinary man.
Too late, she is deflowered and it feels too good in this brand new narrow little cunt to stop now. I let go of her hands and grab her by the buttocks, for one moment I pause and then I open her up, I ream around, I go into her with great bucking kidneys, quicker and quicker, my cock up to the hilt and my balls uptight ... I can feel that I am going to come like a King. I speed up my bucking. Now I am no longer in control of myself, I can't see properly, I feel a contraction ... it's coming, it's coming ... Here it is! The burning stream of spunk is forced up into her bleeding belly. My God that's good, it was certainly worth it!
Quite exhausted I let myself go limp against her, and do some quick thinking. This girl is a minor. This could be alright, but it could also cause trouble ... I would rather not have that.
When I leave her tonight, I must leave her as a friend, and well satisfied, ready to begin again. The basic problem is that she is inhibited.
Fortunately, my cock is still in the tunnel: now I am going to show off my artistry. I caress her neck and shoulders, lingering long over the sweet trembling breasts; their hard nipples tickle the palm of my hand. She seems to have calmed down a bjt.
"Dear Frances, please forgive me, I didn't know ... but you are so beautiful ... I couldn't resist. You must understand."
I imprison her mouth and try to slip my tongue between her teeth. Very delicately I move in her, but slowly so as not to bring the pain back. It is going well, my dick has contracted a bit so it is not so tight. I slip in and out, taking care not to come completely out of the opening, and also trying not to reopen the new wound.
Carefully, very, very carefully, yet without stopping I move up and down. Her eyes are still closed, but she isn't crying any more.
I watch her face for a change in expression. Her breathing becomes more labored and her hands clench, the nails pressing into her palm. I continue my movements, backwards and forwards; all the time I caress her buttocks, her thighs, her tits. With one finger I play with the little button among the damp hairs. At last she cannot stop a shudder; she groans but this time not from pain and the battle is won ... I see her face contract and the nostrils flare as she groans again. This is not the moment to flinch and I hold her by the hips and increase my movements. She puts an arm over her eyes and a long low cry escapes from her throat. Her belly is moving under mine, her groans become louder.
"You see, I told you so ... it's good, isn't it?"
Quicker and quicker, deeper and deeper, I drive my weapon in with flicks of the thighs.
Her head rolls on the pillow from side to side. She thinks she is going to die ... and then, for the first time in her life, SHE COMES!
Her belly is convulsed and shaken by the orgasm. She cries out with surprise.
She is spread out on the bed, her thighs open, just as if she had just been drowned. Her blonde hair falls over the pillow.
On the sheet is a large patch of fresh blood. The hotel will be annoyed at that I am sure.
We both remain silent for a moment. I speak first.
"It's good, isn't it?"
I run my fingers over the tips of her breasts and she comes slowly back to consciousness. Without a word she moves over to her clothes.
I don't say anything, there's no point. I have already won or lost Tomorrow she will be in my bed or I shall be in the shit.
She doesn't unlock her teeth while she is dressing, but when she is ready I catch hold of her and give her a deep kiss....
"I'll give you my phone number. Ask for Mr. Reade and say it is Frances and they will give me the mess age. And just you wait, next time will be even better, believe me."
I open the door but the ungrateful girl goes out without saying a thing.
CHAPTER III
I was wrong all along the line. It is five days since we had our game of hunt the thimble and I have not had any trouble ... but neither have I had a phone call. I still have something to learn about the way women work; I shall have to send the case to Dr. Kinsey.
Every day I go down to El Tropico but the barmaid is beginning to get tired of me.
"No, Mr. Reade, no one telephoned for you."
All said very politely of course, but I am beginning to get annoyed with her. If she goes on like that I shall have to teach her how to respect men.
But in spite of that I still buy her a drink. She is intrigued to know what it is about but she doesn't ask me. We don't do that in our world.
I leave her because I have to meet John Smallwood at the George.
He's a good fellow, John, serious and straight up and down; a really nice chap.
As I did, he came to London as as student, but also as I did he branched out into another activity which is more profitable and has a ready made clientele. He has two girls who keep him in beer and cigarettes by working as receptionists in nightclubs. They spoil him and even work overtime as hostesses just to please him. And he gets on very welL
"Well, how are you, John? Did all go well with that piece? She looked a fast mover."
"Jeeze don't remind me of it. Like a blasted bullfight. And she was making the pace, believe you me, Eskimo Nell has nothing on her, she was just insatiable. The dancing was pretty hot but as soon as she saw you go she almost made me come on the dance floor; then off we went in a taxi."
To her place?"
"Are you crazy? No, a very discreet hotel. And we had only just got inside when she grabbed me tight and started kissing like I have never had it before. And then hands on the artillery; before you could say Kiss-my-ass she had my fly open: I lost a few buttons in the process she was so anxious.
"As soon as I was naked she ripped off her clothes and started towards me ready do dance the samba standing up. And it was hard stuff I can tell you.
"She came four times in one hour, the little slut. In the end I couldn't take any more, I had to leave. But she wouldn't let me go and jumped right back on me: we must have had it in every known position and a few more besides.
"Certainly, it was good, but all the same, enough is enough. Apart from that she had kidneys like a marine and the endurance of Atlas.
"When at last she was satisfied, she became the lady again, powdered her nose and off she went...."
"You didn't do too well then. You should have got her name, it might have been useful."
"Maybe, but that doll has been around so much that I would have killed myself getting anything out of her."
It was five days since I had had any loving and my belly was feeling heavy. My inflated balls were knocking against my legs and my continual beat was getting to be a nuisance.
The most simple thing would have been to have gone and run through Lola who was the local pro, but business is sacred and I didn't want to get her into bad habits. But I had to have a woman and right away or I would burst.
So I took a taxi to Selfridges. It happens to be a sale day and the housewives fight like cats to get bargains which they would find at half the price elsewhere.
The choice of dainty buttock was big enough to have aroused a eunuch.
I took a good look at the merchandise and finally decided in favor of a large dame with an easy looking face and a well-cut suit which is molded round every contour.
As far as bodywork, she is on the large side with big hips, and tits which certainly belonged to her. She must pull-it out of you like the Queen of Sheba.
She moves away and up to the lingerie department. But I can't make my approach: she wouldn't hear what I was saying above this noise.
I have to wait until she has finished looking through all that lacy nonsense.
Then out she goes into the street. She crosses the street and I just miss the lights as the traffic streams past. But I see her on the other side of the road, and she goes into the Olde Oak Tea rooms.
I almost think of letting the matter drop but the unbearable pressure on my dick makes me think otherwise. At last the red light comes up. I cross the street and go into the Tea rooms. We shall see now what happens. What luck, the place is quite full up, except for one seat next to the charming thing I have been following. She is just ordering and I move towards her.
"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit down?"
She looked at me.
"I'm very sorry but I am waiting for another lady."
"I promise to give up my seat as soon as she arrives...."
And just like that I sit down in front of her.
I order a pot of tea and watch her drink hers.
I can just make out through the frilly blouse the juicy morsels which push out firmly underneath. Just the idea of burying my nose there makes my cock jump with joy.
"Do you mind if I smoke?"
"Not at all."
"Perhaps I can offer you a cigarette then."
A moment's hesitation and she makes up her mind.
"Thank you very much." I hold out my fighter and she leans toward me displaying a delightful cleft between the rounded hills. She takes hold of the lighter to hold it steady while she fights her cigarette, but her fingers hold my hand firmly. I look her straight in the face and she doesn't lower her eyes. She is certainly not one to shrink back. "Thank you."
She is lit up. I even think that she is lit up all over; I can see it in her smiling mouth.
"I shall be extremely sorry when your friend arrives, she will deprive me of such charming company."
"Oh, she's always late. Take your time to drink your tea. Anyway, if she doesn't come in half an hour I am going...."
We get talking and the minutes fly by as I begin my sales talk. I discover that she is married to an ordinary kind of man who earns plenty of money for her, but who leaves much to be desired in matters of love. The friend who she is waiting for is the one who helps her out when she gets too frustrated. All these confidences are given under the cover of double meaning words.
"I am sure that this girl friend is quite charming but wouldn't you prefer something more virile?"
"I hate complications; men are so foolish and so demanding ... I do not want to prejudice my position with my husband ... but sometimes I admit I would like something else.
"Well, Madam, I am at your service, use me as you will."
"I have to be back by seven o'clock."
"That's more than enough time to make you happy. You will be sated."
"Now you are boasting, sir."
"Just try me...."
"It is difficult because my girl friend is going to come here."
"Ask her to join in the fun. I assure you that you won't lose anything by it. I feel quite well enough to give you both what you want and without making either of you jealous."
"Here she is!"
I give up my seat. Broach the subject delicately and I am sure that she will accept. I shall wait for you by the door."
I do not have to spend long playing pocket billiards; the girls soon come up to me with a glint in their eyes.
"This my friend, Marcia."
"I am very glad to meet you Miss."
"Mrs. unfortunately; I am married as well!"
"Martin Reade, bachelor. If my suggestion is agreeable I know a comfortable hotel nearby...."
"My friend has a very pleasant studio, we will be much better there...."
I hail a taxi and off we go to Chelsea where she has her love nest. I am sitting between the two dears and begin to start the amusement.
I am not cheated either; this is the first rate stuff, firm and well organized. Dear little Johnny who is on his way to the circus is really getting excited. He is so hard that it hurts, and my trousers are bulging under the strain.
The dear girls don't miss that and make signs of appreciation to each other.
We arrive at the destination and all get out. There is a lift to the sixth floor and there is the door. It couldn't be better, set out superbly. I set to work on the brunette from Selfridges.
"Just wait a minute. I want to brush my hair."
If that's how she wants it I won't stand in her way. I am alone with Marcia who seems less relaxed now that her friend has gone. I begin to feel her up and sense that she is stiff; it must be the first time that she has taken part in a threesome and it probably worries her. But it will pass, everything will soon be alright.
From the bathroom I hear the noise of running water and of clinking bottles: the dear brunette must be getting ready for our game of Postman's Knock!
The door opens and she comes out wafted in perfume. Just as I expected, she is certainly a healthy woman with a solid body; her skin is soft and fresh. Her thighs are powerful and her tits, although a little heavy, are firm, with large nipples which rise out of the center of a majestic brown aureole. Like ripe fruit, they make your mouth water. The mirror shows me the other side of the picture which is regal, with a pair of buttocks which I promise to do justice to later. She has all the accoutrements of a real warrior.
"Well, what are you waiting for, both of you. You're losing time."
"I think the lady is a little frightened: she needs some help."
"Come on, Marcia, let's get on with it."
Marcia hesitates for the sake of form and then we peel her off together.
The brunette unzips her skirt while I attend to the blouse. I flip off her bra at the same moment as she pulls down her panties and unbuckles her garter belt.
Now it is her turn to be in her birthday suit ... and now it is they who start on me and unbutton me as if they were making a race out of it. One unbuckles my belt, the other slips down my trousers.
I am just dressed in my pants, and the brunette tries to pull them down but has some difficulty because my cock gets in the way. I have to help her.
Now we are all in our birthday suits and it is time to amuse ourselves by looking. The brunette puts her arm around the blonde's waist.
"What do you think of us? Which one is prettier?"
I put myself between them, my arms around their waists and move towards the mirror. All three of us measure each other, feeling each other's bodies and making comparisons. I take stock of the tit market.
On my left it's good stuff, a little soft but full and heavy with the sweetness of a dove. On my right it's a bit smaller but as firm as marble. I move my hands down and feel their buttocks: nothing to choose ... both hard muscle covered by soft satin. The blonde is a perfect beauty with her medium-sized and unblemished breasts, her long curly hair and her angel face. But the brunette must have a tremendous temperament and just superb ass movements ... I give ten out of ten to each of them.
"You are both equally beautiful and all I ask for is a go with each of you to keep it even." I sit down in a large armchair and the two girls come and sit on my knees.
The cushions are pressed down under our combined weight and we are so intertwined that you can't tell who is who among this mixed up mass of arms and legs, each trying to satisfy itself.
I have tittie in my mouth, it belongs to the blonde and I am nibbling the hard little nipple gently. One hand is stretched between two warm thighs, and I feel around a hospitable little pussy which is well marked and well defined. I move the slightly stiff hairs out of the way and set out on safari, all my fingers in action.
It is the brunette's cunt, soft and warm, moist and melting. I don't even have to part her lips, she is so excited that they are open already. I move my forefinger into her vulva and my neck is bitten. I feel the erected clitoris against my palm and caress it
"OH! OH! keep at it!"
Her hand takes hold of my rod and pulls the skin back. She tries to rub her belly against it but the blonde feels out of the picture and wants her share of the feast ... their hands intermingle among my treasured possessions: one of them takes my cock firmly in her hand while the other tickles my balls until I almost scream with pleasure. There is real tension in the air.
I take a look in the mirror facing us. What a pretty picture. The only pity is that I haven't got four hands and two dicks. There is certainly space to employ them; our legs are mixed together, our skins rubbing against each other.
With one hand I am still foraging among the thighs of the brunette who is moaning softly. With the other I feel the fleshy rump of the blonde. I part her buttocks and pass my hand along the furrow, tickling the little closed hole. She shakes like a spastic and bites my shoulder.
I do not press the point but turn my attention to the budding vulva. There as well, everything is ready to welcome me, it is as wet as Hyde Park after a storm.
These girls are getting more and more excited. The brunette pushes away the blonde and tears from my mouth the morsel, or rather the breast that I was nibbling and puts her own in its place. The blonde in her turn takes charge of my cock in spite of the other's protest.
We're going to have trouble here unless I get into control.
"Just a minute," I said. "I will say who is the best lover."
"Up we get!"
We get our breath back and stand up.
"Who's going to begin?"
"Me."
"No, me first."
"Don't fight for it, there's enough for everybody. Let's spin for it. It is the brunette who wins.
We are standing up locked together by the mirror and we feel each other up. My hands are busy with her tits, her buttocks, her widened crack, and she is likewise busy with me.
. Little Johnny is in his element, leaping around like a lost soul, with his nose buried in her moist hair. I pull over the stool from the dressing-table and sit on it. I want to have her on my knees and facing me but she wants it the other way and sits down with her back against my chest.
I let her go ahead, the soft weight of her ass gives me a good feeling as it presses down on my thighs.
She pushes herself tightly against my belly, holding my rampant tool between her open buttocks. The mirror reflects her erotic picture. She looks like a good rider, mounted on me with her feet just touching the floor and her thighs apart Her erected breasts call for caresses and I caress and I cup them in my hands pinching the stiff nipples.
She rubs against me, moving her haunches, and takes hold of my cock and fondles it; several times she moves the foreskin back, half uncovering it and then suddenly peels it right back. She places the inflated glans between the sticky lips of her vagina and closes her thighs to get full benefit from feeling it. She moves forwards and backwards on her rump.
That gives her a kick, for my prick is quite wettened as it touches her cunt.
Her movements become quicker and more jerky; I hear sighs and half pronounced words.
"Oh, how big it is! Darling, you are certainly well endowed, you know, I wouldn't have believed it ... it's going to be good ... you're really going to make me come, aren't you ... strong and plenty of it"
I begin to feel funny as well: I feel a pleasurable sensation which begins in my prick and spreads right down to my balls. If she goes on like this, I shall come all over her hairs. Too bad for her.
She takes my cod-piece in her hand and rubs it against her clitoris ... I feel her weight on my knees get less ... she has got up quickly and placed my javelin where it was needed and with one movement she gets my instrument in as far as it will go.
She can't have ever been ploughed by a cock of my caliber for she is literally suffocated by it; the sensation is too strong, she is groaning. But this does not last long, the walls of her vagina dilate and adjust themselves to the tool. She moves gently up and down and the groans of pain turn into beautiful moans of pleasure.
"Oh! Oh! How strong you are darling! How good it is! I have never had it so good before! OH! OH! AH!"
I take hold of her rump so as to bounce her on my knees, but it is she who convulsively grabs my wrist and begins to lead the dance. She moves up and down, squashing her ass against my balls and rubbing it against my wiry hairs. Cooing sounds come from her throat
"Oh what a beautiful cock; you're going to leave it in a long time aren't you? Harden it up a bit more. Oh, it's so good!....
She is so happy that she is screaming.
"Oh! Oh darling! You're tearing me apart! I'm going to come. Give it to me well, my love, so I can really feel you in me. Again! Again!"
She does all the work and imagines that I am doing it. I let her keep her illusions. She is so excited that my hairs are dripping with her fluid; if it wasn't so thick you would think that she had pissed all over me.
Now her movements become frenzied, she is a real tigress. She gives out a long low cry like an animal in heat.
"Oh! It's too much! Enough, enough! Oh!"
I see that Marcia is looking at us and finds that we are taking too long; her eyes are staring and her hands are itching. She fiddles with herself, excited at the spectacle before her. With one hand she is massaging a tit while the other stays between her thighs. We're making her suffer too much, it's not reasonable.
"Come over here, darling Marcia...."
This is my rider who is calling to her.
Marcia comes nearer; the brunette lets go of my hands and grabs her. They must have some kind of sign language since I see the blonde kneel down in front of us. Her head loses itself between our thighs. I cannot see what she is doing but I guess that she must be doing sterling work with her tongue tickling the button because my lover girl is quite hysterical.
From time to time I get a small caress which makes me cry out with pleasure, too. These two girls are quite something, they show the benefits of a classy education. The brunette is now just a spastic body, twisting around and crying out her happiness. I can see the sweat on her back forming into fine drops.
The mirror reflects the picture. Her belly is tensed and her her breasts are quivering. Her lovely face is contorted. As the tension reaches its climax her thighs grip tighter and her vagina contracts round my leaping prick. Her fingers grip my hands. She shrieks out.
"Ah! Ah! Oh! OOH! It's coming, I'm coming! Oh! here it is ... Here it comes...."
She cannot hold back the spasm which shakes her body on top of me. As if she were struck by an electric shock, she shudders with joy. Her head lolls on one side and her mouth opens for a kiss.
"Oh! How good it is. How strong you are!"
I as well cannot keep control any longer and I feel the pleasure sweep up my tool, it comes all at once. My balls contract hard and I send the spunk up her in long full spurts, right up until it hits her womb.
It was really good, she pulled it out of me like a real artist. We lay still for a moment to compose ourselves and to get our breath back. I am the first one to move.
"Look, I don't want to worry you, but you know that I certainly came pretty well, maybe you ought to fix yourself up. You don't want to get into any problems...."
She takes my pride and joy from her jewel box and sighs deeply.
"What a pity, it was so good...."
"Well, don't cry about it. You can taste it as many times as you like, but now it's Marcia's turn."
The blonde doesn't wait to be asked twice. No sooner is her friend in the bathroom than she sits astride me and takes care of my cannon. She is all worked up. Like her friend, she has a preference for the sitting position, but she prefers to face me. She puts her arms around me and rubs her little titties against my chest muscles, erecting the sensitive nipples against my rough skin. My hard-on has subsided a little and her hand gently fondles my prick, playing with it to give it a good appearance.
Little Johnny becomes vigorous and rigid in a moment, and it is not long before she is holding a mighty maid-deflowerer in her hand. That quite obviously makes her happy. She must have been frightened that I would leave her hungry.
"You see, I can quite easily take you both on, and you know what the Chinese say about tea: the first pot isn't worth drinking, but the second pot is really something. What do you say to that"
"AAAH!...."
That she wasn't waiting for, for while I was telling my story I had placed my dick between her thighs. With one hand I had moved the hairs of her bush out of the way, while the other I put around her kidneys. And then with one movement I pulled her against me.
I have her well held tight against me, her cunt pressing against my balls, so she can appreciate what she has in her belly.
This must give her quite a feeling; her thighs tremble on mine and from her throat a harsh moan is forced out.
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes a bit."
"Shall I come out of you?"
"No, no, but go a bit more slowly; don't tear me around."
I don't like making women suffer when it isn't necessary, so I take hold of her haunches and move her away from me, slowly rocking her forward and back on my knees, like a child.
I feel she is all tensed up, and a bit frightened; she is really very narrow, but I'm not complaining, I like to feel my tool well gloved in a new sheath. It gives me an extra kick.
She is more discreet than her friend; apart from a few sighs she says nothing and keeps her eyes shut.
I carry on with my rocking chair game but still very, very carefully. She seems to relax a little more but it is time that the brunette came and lent a hand.
"So, you're getting used to my big tool are you? You've never had anything so big in there before, eh? You see I certainly have a good cock, your little cunt is all full up. Just wait until your friend comes back and we'll see if we can make you come."
The bathroom door opens and out comes my best piece of tail, freshly powdered and perfumed; fresh as the proverbial rose.
I wink to her and she catches on right away; no need to draw her a picture. She sticks herself close to Marcia, her breasts against her back, and with her, tongue tickles her neck and ears; her hand moves around first on her breasts and then down to her belly where with one finger she searches among the blonde hair and fondles the little pink button.
She certainly knows her stuff since I feel Marcia close in on me very quickly: her vaginal passage dilates and my prick moves more freely. It must be getting pleasant for her for she begins to moan softly.
I step up the rhythm of my movements, and she takes it better and better. A long choked cry escapes from her throat:
"AAAHH...."
She is really throwing out the fluid; I don't know if the credit for it should go to my instrument or the brunette's finger, but here she is coming.
She does it with dignity; no noise at all, but quite unmistakably she comes ... She is obviously out of practice.
Not what you could call a sensational fuck, that one, but to keep them both happy I declare them both equal in matters of love, although I must say if I had some spare time I should try the brunette again; she is worth the effort.
We part the best friends in the world, promising to see each other again soon.
I'll remember them one rainy day, if I can fit them in.
CHAPTER IV
This morning I have no sooner entered El Tropico than the barmaid grabs hold of me.
"Mr. Reade, there was a phone call for you from a lady. She did not give her name but I did what you told me. I told her to phone back around ten. What shall I tell her?"
"Just say: same hotel and same room, and that I shall be there at four o'clock. Okay?"
"I'll do it, alright. She has a nice voice; she must be pretty."
She looks at me a little curiously as she is talking: she has been making a pass at me for a long time. If she were ten years younger I might give her what she wants.
"I'll come back at three to see what the picture is." Later in the afternoon I call back in at El Tropico. "Well?"
"She called. I gave her your message and she hung up without saying anything."
"Shell be there alright. You know what it's all about, don't you? When a girl wants her oats nothing in the world can stop her. Ah, you certainly lead us men a merry dance!"
I have an hour to kill so I think I will take a nap in the hotel. I look around the room. It's not too bad considering the area; not as nice as my place, but if I took her there Mary would go through the roof.
I take off my coat, light up a cigarette and lie down to daydream. How funny life is. I shut my eyes and I see it all flash by me, just like a film.
I see myself as a young boy in Bristol, a snotty nosed little urchin in the playground. My father was a postman and my mother worked for various people.
My father's ambition was for me to go into the Post Office; he already saw me in charge of the main office in Bristol.
I wasn't so much against him; I studied on and off and got into the local grammar school. Father bitched like hell but I couldn't care less.
It was then that I discovered there were quite a few more interesting and rewarding jobs than the Post Office. I must have been a bit more intelligent than the rest because when I was eighteen I got a scholarship to go to London and finish my studies. When I got out at Paddington I had only one reaction; to get the hell out of it. The grey dirty town made me frightened ... if this was what they called the great city, I could tell them where to put it.
I took lodgings in a hotel in Notting Hill, in a hotel used by African students. I got on very well with them. It was the day after I arrived that I got the biggest surprise of my life. It needs to be heard to be believed.
Just as I was coming out of my room, to go downstairs to get my usual breakfast at Lyons, I bumped into a white girl on the stairs landing who was coming out of the room next to mine. That did something to me and I asked the landlord what was happening.
"I thought there were only Africans here except me?"
"That's who I let the rooms to."
-Well what's this girl doing?"
"Oh, you mean Dorothy. She belongs to the guy who lives next door to you. Almost all of them have a little white girl friend who comes and gives them 'affection.' That's how it is here...."
I was quite taken aback In Bristol I had never seen anything like that But as soon as I went into Lyons' I saw the whole situation in front of me. All the really lovely dolls, the cream of the bunch, were sitting with colored men.
The local boys seemed satisfied to let the best girls be taken from right under their noses ... they were happy with the leftovers. Here it seemed the Negro is in the ascendant and the white man is going down.
The girls feel this too; they're not stupid either, they can work it out; besides it is just the vaginal instinct The only problem is the children, who seem to spring all too readily from the surging loins of these perfect physical specimens.
It was in that same week that I made my first conquest A wise woman of the world who positively kidnapped me and took me off to her flat in Kensington. GodI What a woman! On the bed, on the armchairs, on the carpet, standing up: we had it every way until I thought I would fold up and die, but I do have quite a bit of resistance. She went off to powder her nose and when she came back gave me a tenner. That was the moment of truth for me; no point in going on studying; I could quite easily make a living with my social talents.
A friend had introduced me to a law student and she seemed to take a fancy to me. I am afraid I can't boast that I started her off on the primrose path, since she certainly hadn't hung about for me to find what love was all about.
I realized this at our first encounter. It was she actually who finished off my own education.
We went on at it for a fortnight and then, one day, we were both lying stretched out on the bed, recovering from a game of mothers and fathers.
"Martin, I'd love a cigarette...."
She amuses herself for a moment by blowing smoke rings up towards the ceiling.
"You know something?"
"No, but I'm listening."
"Don't you find that two-sided love can get a little monotonous?"
"Maybe, but all the same it's good. But I'm broadminded and if you want a change I have a friend who would be delighted to help you...."
"No, darling."
She gets up on her elbows and lies down on me, one breast pressing against my mouth.
"No, Martin, as a man you are enough for me, I don't want anyone else; what I would like is to have another woman with us; you know it's really something that way...."
"Have you already tried it?"
"Well...."
"Okay, I won't ask any more questions, Have you got someone in mind?"
"Yes, an English student who I eat opposite every day. A beautiful girl as well ... a blue-eyed blonde, you will like her."
"Has she got what it takes?"
"I haven't made a tour of inspection, but I should certainly think so. I like her anyway. I should like to bring her along."
"Have you asked her?"
"Not yet, she is a little naive. She might even be a virgin."
"Then you're out of luck girl; she is not going to come along in all her innocence to a party like this. You're crazy...."
"Quite obviously you don't know women well, their curiosity is without bounds."
"You win; I trust you."
"We're going to have fun aren't we, eh?" ' Just for the moment she is amusing herself with my chopper and is pecking at it like a hen who has found a worm. The hen in question does her job so well, that the worm in question loses no time in becoming a good strong hard cock which she licks and sucks all over.
The idea of the pretty blonde joining us runs around my head, and I imagine that it is she who is bringing me on, and the idea is so pleasant that the girl gets the whole of my load in her mouth.
She drinks it down like water. "Oh, darling! You love me so much." If she knew at the time I was thinking of her friend she would choke with it.
CHAPTER V
I meet her again in Lyons. "Well?"
"All is arranged, you'll meet her soon; she's going to come here."
"Did you tell her the score?"
"Are you mad? I am going to introduce you as an old friend just passing by and I'm pretending it's my birthday so we can have a party. You can come to my place ... Try and get hold of a bottle of Scotch and bring a few records for atmosphere, then leave the rest to me ... I'll give her to you."
"I bet you a pound that you fail."
"Done ... now move and don't come back empty handed...."
Half an hour later I come back. My Helen is talking to the blonde in question ... A succulent dish with bright eyes.
"Hello, Martin, how goes the world with you? Let me introduce Martin to you Susan, he's really a good friend: he has some tremendous records and manages to get hold of a bottle for friends."
We shake hands like old friends.
"A pleasure to meet you, Susan."
"Thank you, Martin."
"Well, my children, today it's my birthday. I am saying good-bye to my teens and that really needs a celebration. I invite you to my place; we can smoke, drink, dance and have some fun. Okay with you, Martin?"
"I can't refuse such an old friend ... have you got three glasses."
"Just about all I have got ... Have you got any lubrication."
"Haig and Haig."
"Splendid, let's go."
She lives near Victoria, in a big old house right on the top floor, in a little room which she has decorated herself. With a girl on each arm I climb up the stairs as if on a hunting expedition.
Our little celebration begins: these girls must have hollow legs, the level in the bottle goes down criminally fast; they must be in practice.
I put several smoochy records on which should keep us going for several hours. I dance with both of them keeping the tangoes and the real slow ones for Susan. Every time round I feel her soften up and go into it a bit more.
When it comes to Helen's turn, she really gives it to me, making the tension mount with her tickling little laugh.
"Take a rest, Martin, I'm going to dance with Susan. Okay, Sue?"
"Yes, certainly."
I'll show you that it's not only the men who can lead a tango well." I am curious to see how this works out. She is certainly going well. She holds Susan close to her with one hand just a little low so that she can feel her buttocks without seeming to touch them. Her legs insinuate themselves between those of her partner, rubbing her up a little more than the rules of good taste allow. It doesn't seem to worry the blonde unduly; the Scotch must be helping out there. The temperature gets hotter.
"Boy, it's so hot in here. Martin, why don't you take your coat off, I'm going to strip off a little. But don't worry, I'm going to keep my bra and panties on ... and my stockings, too...."
"You sure you don't mind."
"Make yourself at home."
"Sue, does it worry you?"
"Not at all."
No sooner said than done, and the atmosphere becomes really heavy and oppressive.
"Sue, you must be dying in your suit, take your jacket off."
"Well, the fact is I have no slip. My suit is right next to the skin."
"Have you got a bra?"
"Yes."
"Well, your honor is saved then. Come on, let's take it off.
She resists a little for the sake of appearance, but then gives in. She is not bad at all, lovely rounded shoulders and a thin waist. If her bra is not misleading too much, what is underneath looks very acceptable.
Helen takes her off for another tango. She strokes her shoulders, moving her fingers under the elastic of her bra as if she wanted to unbutton it. I don't know what she is whispering in her ear, but it must be quite filthy since Sue is blushing like a beet but she doesn't seem to be terribly offended.
"Martin, you've had enough rest now, dance with me. Rest for a bit, Sue, I'll give him back in a quarter of an hour."
We link ourselves together and she moves her mouth close to my ear, and speaks softly.
"It's working alright, she's heating up; let's show her a sample of the style, give me a bit while we're dancing...."
We start on a samba which is far from being orthodox; these steps were never envisaged by the creator of the dance. My trousers are bulging in the usual place and pressed hard against her. I imagine that Susan isn't losing one bit of the picture.
When the music stops we are mouth to mouth, as if completely oblivious of the fact that there is a spectator.
"Your turn, Sue; he dances a terrific samba."
No luck; it's a tango, but I give her her money's worth. My thigh moves between hers and I make her feel my prick against her. Like the well-brought up girl that she is, she blushes. I don't press the point Helen is doing too well for me to try and do her work.
"Rest period, children. How about a drink?"
Helen fills up the glasses. You can see the bottom of the bottle. It won't go much further now.
"Down the hatch, the Russian way."
If Susan doesn't come round soon I'll change my brand.
"It's hot, don't you think? Martin, your shirt looks wet, why don't you take it off. We don't mind, unless your chest is frightened of the daylight ... "Judge for yourself, ladies."
"What do you think Sue, not bad? Well me, I'm going to get comfortable."
And she strips off a bit more. If I wasn't used to seeing her that way I'd knock her off right here and now.
"Sue take your skirt off, it must bother you."
"No thanks, it's alright, really."
"Don't be silly, we won't bite you. Let's see your legs, they are really wonderful. No? Well too bad, if only you knew how nice it is....
"Martin, put on a slow record, one of the quiet ones. I want to dance with Sue...."
There's too much light so she puts out the ceiling light and turns on the bedside lamp. Soft music, soft lighting, all you need to succeed. "Come on, Sue."
Susan hesitates a bit; she is conscious of the change in atmosphere and it worries her, Helen takes her in hand like no one else I have seen; her insidious fondling and caresses are not even disguised. Susan drops her guard.
The music stops and in a twinkling I start it again. I have caught on now; the thing is not to break the charm. Helen is playing a funny game: she grazes her lips against her ear and whispers something while she slowly unzips Sue's skirt. A masterful ploy! Sue doesn't realize what is happening until she feels her rump exposed: all she has on is a tiny pantie and a garter belt.
She tries to pick it up but Helen lacks it away with her foot I am not slow either and pick up the skirt putting it out of range. The two girls slowly gyrate to the tune which is now on for the third time. Their eyes are bright and shining.
Helen and I seem to be able to understand each other by telepathy. I notice a discreet sign and carefully move near and looking quite innocent unclip her bra at the back. That's what she wanted.
She in her turn, unbuttons Sue's with a practiced hand. I don't think that she asked her first But the maneuver was delightfully done. With a shrug of her shoulders she slips off her shoulder straps and at the same time slips off Sue's. The hand of a master. Sue didn't notice anything at all.
I imagine that Haig and Haig has something to do with all this.
Suddenly she moves her body away from Sue's and both bras fall together, a perfect job. Hop! Immediately she locks herself against her partner. Both their pointed breasts are squashed tight Sue seems a little lost. She is in the grip of events; she is not too sure whether it is dangerous ... but it's so nice. With consummate skill, Helen moves her belly against Sue's and rolls her tits against hers.
My mouth is drooling.
She puts one hand under the elastic on Sue's pantie and caresses one of the spheres of her rump. The music stops and the charm is broken. They disengage themselves. Helen goes and sits down on the divan.
"Have a cigarette, Sue? Come and sit down by me ... No, leave your bra alone ... When you've got breasts like you have, you have no right to hide them. Don't you think so, Martin?"
"There should be a law against it."
"Leave your bra alone, I tell you. Give it here ... Now come and sit down here, right next to me. Martin, have you got any of that poison left?"
"Wish I had."
"Take a look in the cupboard, I must have something drinkable there ... You'll see a bottle marked Brandy ... Thanks a lot, a sip for me and a sip for Sue ... I know what you are thinking about, my dear
"Oh! Well, tell me then, are you hiding something?"
"Not at all. I like you and I'll prove it to you...."
She pushes her over on the divan and hugs her. Susan wriggles out of it, worried by the fact that I am there.
"Is it Martin who is worrying you? You shouldn't bother; he is broadminded: he's a real friend. He pleases me as well...."
"Will you dance this tango with me, Helen?" I asked.
"I'll finish my drink and then I'll dance with you."
"Sue, would you keep this tango going; just keep putting the needle back on, we'll tell you when to stop. If we take too long just amuse yourself by looking at us."
She gives her instructions in a faint whisper.
"Go to it, darling, work me over like a man and I'll keep the romance going; if after that she doesn't want it, I promise to go without a fuck three days."
We undulate around the dance floor to the sound of the music.
"Pull my panties down, but leave my belt. I'll keep my stockings on, it will be more exciting for her."
I do as I am told and her frilly panties drop to the ground like a flower.
"Oh really?"
This protest comes from Susan.
"Don't worry, darling. I'll teach him to be forward. I'll do the same to him."
She takes care of my trousers and unbuckles my belt.
"There that'll teach you to pull off my underwear."
My trousers fall down like an empty accordion.
"Look Sue, I'm not going to let the matter rest there. I'm going to teach him to respect me."
With a floridly brutal gesture she tries to rip off my pants but I have to give her a hand. My magic wand which has been compressed for too long jumps up like a jack-in-a-box. We must be shocking Sue, but this does not stop her staring with wide open eyes.
"Sue, dear, the music."
The rhythm begins again and we sidle around the room; all our limbs are mixed together, for now there are only our legs which make contact and of course the little third leg who is poking his nose around everywhere.
"Let's go, darling."
Her hand takes my tool, draws the skin back and guides it towards her crack.
"Come in ... Ooh!"
A long sigh is torn out of her throat.
"Sue! Sue! Look at it! If you knew how good it was ... Ooh! If only you knew, it's so good! ... Don't let the music stop, we'll finish it like this."
Throbbing against each other we meander around the floor. Helen is quite overcome with sensation. Her eyes are shut tight, and her hands are clenched. All the time she cries out with pleasure.
"Oh! Sue darling, just be patient and I'll lend him to you in a moment. Oh! Martin, give it to me again, and again ... OH! OH! ... Enough for, now, leave some for Susan."
"Now your turn, Sue. Try it with Martin, I'm not jealous. No? Why not? Whisper it to me ... No, it's not possible! Go away, Martin, this is nothing to do with you ... She's a maiden ... yes, old fellow, a real one...."
"Congratulations, Susan, there aren't many around nowadays."
"My sweet, I'm going to do something for you. Something which you won't regret ... come on, dear ... let me do it ... you know a woman can do some things, and very well at that ... Don't fight, just lie back ... and don't grip your thighs together you'll squash my head ... you have a delightful little rump you know."
Helen really goes to work like an expert. She has persuaded Sue to offer her cunt to us.
The tableau is succulent: Susan is stretched out on her back with her legs bent and apart and she moans plaintively while gripping her breasts in her hands. Helen has her head at the right level and darts her tongue around, caressing the sensitive button. So as to be able to reach the objective, she has knelt down on me ground. Her pink thighs are temptingly spread apart in an open challenge. In that position her cunt is out of reach but there is a little dark hole which is making eyes at me. I hope she'll like that. I can't hold it in any longer.
I kneel down behind her, hold her waist in both hands and shove it in.
She is quite in agreement and parts her legs as far as they will go and does all she can to help both of us ... only it's a bit difficult. I spit into my hand and anoint the molten instrument of desire, also lubricating the narrow entrance a little. I press forward and we go in a little, a bit more and then there we are as far as we can go.
I start giving it to her with big thrusts. It must hurt her but she likes it ... maybe she's never had it like that before ... She bites the furry lips of Susan's twat, sucking and licking, making her tongue penetrate to the very depths of the palpitating vagina....
I keep on shagging her. Susan writhes around in a frenzy on the blankets. Three groans together ... we all come at the same moment. You can't tell who is shouting the loudest. We unravel ourselves and sit down to regain our composure.
Helen and I are quite relaxed but Susan wants to puts her panties back on ... we stop her.
"Come along, Sue, look at us ... are we ugly or something? Modesty is the characteristic of the ugly and you haven't anything to fear on that score...."
"Don't you think she's lovely, Martin?"
"You really are beautiful, Susan, you are both quite stunning. But anyway that's not the problem. Did you like being felt up by Helen?"
No answer.
"Come on, be frank. I heard you ... so it must have been good; it's the only real thing there is in life...."
We get up and move towards the table. I put my arms around their shoulders and move them close together. When they are face to face, I take hold of each of their tits and place them together: a pink little nipple against a little brown nipple. Under the influence of my hands the nipples become hard as oak. They really like it.
I leave them for a moment to indulge in the affection that they have for each other, then I pull Helen away from her friend.
"You're getting too big a share of the fun, Susan, leave her alone for a bit She took my strength away from me so she should give it back."
Helen is in agreement. She sticks to me like a leech and sends her tongue into my mouth.
She fondles playfully with my loose balls and then her fingers tighten around my prick. She goes through the necessary movements, rubbing her hand up and down the silky skin, moving the tip in and out of its covering of skin. It doesn't take long for her hand to be well filled. But she takes her work seriously, kneels down and takes it between her lips to give the final touch and achieve maximum expansion. "Okay like that, Martin?"
"You really are sweet."
I was watching Susan throughout the whole operation. She didn't miss one moment.
"So, Susan, you're filling out the gaps in your education."
"Sue, you haven't seen it up close. Come here, darling and take hold of it. Feel how soft it is...."
She caresses my tool delicately. The hard flesh worries her and makes her feel funny.
"Do you want to try with Martin. You know he's very gentle, he won't hurt you."
"No."
"Alright then, just watch us if you want to...."
Balancing on her heels she curves herself backwards, her legs parted and her cunt offered to me.
I hold her steady by the waist and our parts touch. She takes my dick in her fingers and rubs it slowly over her moist cunt, shutting her eyes and sighing with pleasure when the tip runs over her burton.
"Give it to me, Martin, give it to me hard."
One flick of the thighs and I am in her.
"Oh! darling ... How good it is! ... Ooh! Sue, if you only knew what you were missing...."
She holds me tightly in a bear hug, wrenching me to her with all her strength. This time I can tell that she is being genuine, for her cunt is all wet with pleasure.
"Ah! Martin! Ah! Ah! AAAH!...."
She writhes around like an eel, giving magnificent strokes with her buttocks. Sliding and slipping around me, she is pulling it out of me like never before. Out of the comer of my eye I take a look at Susan who is getting worked up. Even though she is a virgin, she is affected by it.
I stop looking at her because I have my time cut out with Helen. I grab hold of her by the kidneys and give her the full treatment, long powerful strokes. That's what she likes.
"So, I fuck well, darling? You like it like this, don't you? Right up to the hilt ... you still like my big prick don't you?"
"Sue, Sue ... come and kiss me."
Susan comes, but she doesn't bother about her friend. I hear her panting breath behind my back and then feel her hands caressing my shoulders. Suddenly, she mounts me like a mad cat, her arms around my waist and the lower part of her belly settling nicely against one of my buttocks.
So as to get more sensation from feeling my skin she lifts up her thigh and places it over mine. This movement has the effect of opening up her dripping cunt and it sucks onto my thigh like a leech. I hear her sigh with desire as she rubs herself forwards and backwards: her hairs tickle me and her thigh glides pleasantly over mine.
The whole affair gets out of control. With clenched hands I grab the tensed buttocks of Helen. I go mad and buck around in her cunt which seems to be on fire. Tears of pleasure are streaming down her cheeks.
I feel Susan's hand sliding down my belly: it continues on its way down and forages among my bushy hair. She makes a little side-trip to fondle my balls and then swiftly she rings her finger around my prancing tool. The combined effect makes me come like a rocket.
With a movement of my thighs I free myself and ejaculate over the snowy belly of Helen, covering the dark hair with milky fluid. I want to hold Susan close but she runs away from me.
"I'm going to fine you both ... the both of you have left me even hungrier."
"Susan, it's your turn first. Do the same to me as did to you just now."
She sits down on the corner of a table, her legs wide open, offering her cunt to us.
Susan doesn't do too badly for an amateur; she uses her fingers and her tongue to excite the humid organ. The service seems to please Helen. Just looking at the two girls brings my appetite back again. I hardly had time to catch my breath before coming out fighting for the next round.
Helen appreciates the situation and motions me forward, pointing out the hind quarters offered by her friend.
"What are you waiting for? Take advantage of it; I shall help you."
I don't wait to be asked twice. I run my hand along the soft skin of her rump and pass between her legs to tickle the brand-new cuntie.
"Go ahead, darling, it's the moment; get in there."
I do what I am told and place my key in the lock. "Push forward, dear, I'm holding her...."
I hold her hips firmly. I go in as hard as I can.
"No! No! I don't want to!...."
Too late now, I am already in there; just a little further and everything gives ... I roll my prick around gently and in it goes as the hymen is torn apart ... One good thrust and I am in as far as I can go.
She cries with pain and tries to slip out.
Helen hits me hard while keeping Susan's head held tightly between her thighs.
"Go on, give her a good run-through, make her come like you made me ... What a beautiful picture you both make ... go slowly, darling, yes that's right, so that she can really come well ... so that she'll really like it...."
I don't need any encouragement. Susan's groans and shrieks calm down as she becomes tense. On her thigh there is a little dribble of fresh blood.
"A really first rate job, if I may say so, Sir."
Helen keeps on fondling her nipples. Susan cannot keep back an entirely new cry which is forced out of her throat. A scream of voluptuous surprise. Pain gives way to pleasure.
"Aaah!...."
"You see, darling, that's what love is like ... It's good, isn't it? You can feel how much good he is doing with that great big tool of his. Open yourself up as far as you can, you won't often have a prick of this size stuck up you ... Come, my darling ... bite me if you want to, I don't mind ... you see now why I wanted to help you. Go to it, Martin; I can feel that she is just on the point now. Drive right up in there, as far as you can go."
And in fact after several thrusts she shudders like an aspen and broadcasts her joy for all to hear. We carried her, swooning, to the divan and spread her out on it.
"You big brute, look what a state she is in. This is the last time that I invite you here, big lout."
Helen takes care of her, mopping away the blood which is drying on her thigh and putting soothing lotion on the sore regions.
"It's nothing really, my dear; you'll feel funny walking for a bit but tomorrow it'll all have gone. You there, this is nothing for you to listen to, it's something for women only. Did you like it, darling? It was good, wasn't it? You see that's what keeps the world going and it goes very nicely. How about giving it another try, eh? ... He hurt you a bit because he is so well armed but afterwards you will feel the benefit of it."
I left them alone for a minute stretched out on the couch in each other's arms, their bellies pressed together, their breasts and mouths united.
Helen is on top and Susan underneath, their legs hanging over the edge of the bed. Susan has lifted her legs up and is gripping Helen around the hips. In this position they seem to be offering me their united bodies. They're not thinking about me but the two vulvas are literally winking at me. I cannot disregard that especially since with Susan I didn't ejaculate. If I kept all that I spunk, it would choke me.
While they show their affection for each other, I move closer and grab hold of both of them and impale Helen. I ream her out a little and then withdraw in order to penetrate her friend.
I carry on this interchange of cunts which satisfies them both completely. When I feel the sperm boiling up inside me I take hold of Helen and thrust into her with long slow movements. She is just about to come.
"Come on, you slut, don't hold back ... I'm going to shoot you full of spunk; try and keep it all. Here it is! ... take it all; it's for you."
I came quite superbly this time, the juice surged up into her at the same time she had her climax. Our groans of relief were simultaneous.
I feel a little run down now ... still both the girls have had their due. The only person who wasn't satisfied was the fellow next door who couldn't get to sleep because of the noise. I hope it gave him a few ideas for fucking his wife.
The bottles are empty. I take the girls home, and we promise to meet again soon.
CHAPTER VI
How pleasant memories are. I had several excursions like that until I was called on to do my National Service.
Since I had no immediate plans I volunteered for Malaya.
The infantry was my line; I just wanted to see the countryside. But it was all useful in the end: they taught me how to shoot straight, and how to administer first aid.
After my training I began to develop my innate ability. I did a little boxing just enough to become heavyweight champion of the Far-East; and this served me in good stead when I got back, since I soon picked up a blonde called Nancy who walked the streets not far from Marble Arch.
Several of the local boys tried to fuck around with her, and I had to straighten them out. Now I only have to walk around my sector and they get the picture.
Nancy was a tremendous worker. It only took her two months to get me a car and then I brought Maureen in to give her a hand. Soon after that I made up the complement to three and life was really good.
But there were things to think about. I had promised to marry a girl from Bristol and so like the dutiful son I went back and married her and we set up house in London. We've got two children and I have to think of leading an honorable life. Frances is going to help me.
A knock on the door puts an end to my musings and I turn the key. "Hello, darling."
I take hold of her waist and bend her head back with a powerful kiss.
"So, you made your mind up at last! It's at least a week since I saw you."
She bites her hp; she doesn't want to say it.
"I didn't want to see you again, but I couldn't hold out any longer. I can't get any sleep. What did you do to me that time?
"I took your maidenhead, my sweet; that's all. You liked it; that's natural enough, you can't go against nature."
She grips my shirt and buries her face in it. "I'm ashamed of myself."
"There's no point, it's all quite normal. You wait, the more you do it, the more you'll like it"
I don't waste my time while giving her these sage words of wisdom, and take off her dress just like the other day. There she is again in her tiny pantie, but this time I can really get a good look.
"The other time I didn't get a good look; just keep still so that I can feast my eyes on you."
She waltzes round the room, pretty as hell. Just looking at her prancing buttocks makes me get a real hard-on. I have never seen a more perfect ass, youthful and exciting: the freshness of youth combined with the fullness of experience. If I don't restrain myself, I shall give it to her right up there.
Her legs are tremendous; slightly muscled at the shin with long thighs, real dancer's legs. Her tits are a bit on the small side but quite perfectly shaped. I can't take it any more. I grab hold of her and lay her down. This time there is no resistance; she gets rid of the excess clothing and I see her black panties fly off into the air.
Quickly I balance myself on my elbows and plunge my head between her thighs. I bite the lovely soft perfumed flesh which melts under my tongue. With my tongue well aligned, I investigate all the territory which is available: sucking and licking some more.
"Oh, Martin, again, do that again!"
I lift her thighs up and pass my tongue down around the little hole which I am going to attack.
"Ohl Martin, what are you doing?...."
I continue my tickling for a moment, then I leave that place, coming back past her well-opened cunt, giving it a long lick which makes her sigh with pleasure, and then I journey upwards ... on the way I give her a polite little nibble at a precocious breast whose nipple amuses me. Now her neck, her mouth ... Her hands grip tight on my shoulders, pulling me close to her. I lay down on her, my chest squashing the two tits whose points are rock-hard.
Her eyes are half-closed and she bites my lips; she is quivering with emotion. It can't go on like this. I open up her thighs and plunge into her boiling cunt. She is still a bit narrow; and I can hardly keep back a groan of pain, but she courageously tells me to keep going in. I slip further and further in until I penetrate to the furtherst depths of her belly. She has put her arms over her eyes and is moaning softly. I begin to thrust forward, rhythmically coming in and out.
Her breathing becomes labored; she begins the beautiful song of pleasure at each thrust.
"Oh! Oh! OOh!...."
She has taken hold of her breasts in her hands and grips them tight. Her head rolls from right to left on the pillow. Her belly seems now to have become alive and seeks mine. We throw ourselves against each other and still they come, these long moans of love, getting louder all the time.
"Oh! Martin, it's so good. Again, darling, again!"
She stutters out incoherent phrases, words without rhyme or reason which become a real litany of pleasure.
"Oh! Aaaah! Oh! Yes! Again. Oh! Mother!"
I stay still for a moment; my dick is still planted like a tree in that spongy, yet firm, hole. Her face is screwed up with pain; she seems as if she is going to suffocate. I don't want to let her calm down so I plunge back into her....
"Oh! Oh!"
The song begins again. This time I set about the job squarely and grab her by the hips and go into it rhythmically ... It doesn't take long: she tenses, and then ejaculates with the fury of pleasure that has been bottled up too long, and all the while the litany goes on. "Oh! Oh! Aaah!"
This girl is really quick to come ... I would have liked to carry on the good work but she has had enough.
"No ... no more please."
I come out of her gently. We stay there without moving, her head on my chest and a quivering breast in my hand. I can feel her heart beating fast.
Her mouth moves onto my skin and twitches. She gives me a frightened kiss, the kiss of a timid maid. I turn her over on her back and look into her eyes.
"So, it's good, isn't it?"
"You bet! ... it was good, much better than the first time. Will it always be as good as this?"
"That depends: sometimes it's even better, sometimes it's worse. If it was always the same we'd get tired of it. And you have a lot to learn."
"A lot? ... that's good, I think I will make a good pupil...."
My hard is still strong enough to batter down a fortress but I can't begin yet; she has to be prepared for it. Her cunt has to be put into running order. It's something which I don't usually like very much. All I read on the subject up to now just made me laugh: books with such stupid titles as "The Dainty Valley," and "The Mysterious Flower." Complete shit.
I know my way around that part of the world; I have made many explorations and it's just not like that. Nothing to do with mysterious flowers or any crap like that. Just like looking at her dear little satiny ass, all fresh and pink.
I am beginning to get my taste back. I am really in a hurry to find her little rump again. I have turned her over on her belly and caress her softly. She's just like a large ripe fruit; I have to hold myself back from biting into it. I open her thighs gently. There's nothing mysterious about it but it is certainly like a flower ... a small dark flower. But so clean and fresh that you forget what it's used for. I put my lips close and put out my tongue. She perfumes herself there, too. The same peppery smell comes out. I lick softly. She likes that; she says so. I still have to exercise my iron will not to plant my cock in there. We'll see about that later; today it might frighten her.
All this only makes me more excited and little Johnny down there is clamoring for his rights. I turn her on her back and put my tool on her bush. A few polite caresses and she opens up in a flash, and with my accustomed charity I do not keep her waiting.
But this time I think of myself; I am too worked up. Johnny has a feast. God, it's good. I hear her moaning with pleasure underneath me. I don't know how much longer I can keep it in. It's coming; I feel it coming. It's almost here.
Aahl I let it all out My turn to push out the come juice.
"Slut, you've made me come. Here, take it all."
I grip hard on her buttocks and throw myself against her. I come like a bull. She is quite astonished to see me stop when the going was so good. She's still not really with it yet.
I am a nice sort of fellow. I'm not going to leave her in suspension; I am going to spoil her. It's not the first time that I have to make this kind of polite action. I always find it unpleasant; lips full of spunk, how revolting! But today I seem to like it. It's tasty and perfumed, and she is so new and fresh.
With my tongue stretched out, I move from her rump to her button and there she goes again, crying out aloud. I kiss her fully on her moist and open mouth. I go to it, sucking and licking ... She can't take it any more. I have her clitoris between my teeth and I won't let go ... I hear her suffocating. That did the trick and she comes loudly.
That's enough for today.
CHAPTER VII
Now it's she who is calling me Tip every day. She is quite out of control. I have really put fire in her cunt. I'm quite proud of it, too. It's me she wants; it's my cock and nobody else's.
I have to work very carefully. I want to have that girl right under my finger, supple and obedient She must feel that I am in command.
I told the barmaid to tell her when she called, that I was busy and that she could call back in three days. We had another session and I refused her nothing. A bitch in heat has more modesty than she has. I would like to keep her waiting quite a bit more but I want to get some business under way so I tell her to come back tomorrow.
Now the training is going to start and I have no intention of risking my skin. She is going to pay for her pleasure. I don't yet know how much but I am giving it my full time attention. Anyway, she must be shown that the establishment gives nothing away free. I have a friend who put a countess out to walk for him but those kind of things only happen once in a million years. What I have to work out is how much I can extract from "Daddy." She may even be engaged ... that would really be something if it leaked out that she had been fucked already.
She is so delightfully fresh looking in her light dress which makes it quite evident that her contours are for real and that she could make a very good pin-up. Eight away she jumps around my neck.
"Oh, my darling, four days without you is an eternity! Quick, my love, make me forget how long it has been."
"I'm quite agreeable. I just happen to have something that it is looking for a parking place."
She quivers with repressed passion and strips in three movements. She doesn't bother about her clothes: skirt, stockings, underwear fly across the room. She is ready long before me. She waits for me sitting on the bed, her arms behind her to push her breasts forward for maximum effect.
I am going to show her the chair method, it will be something new for her. I go and sit down beside her and bring her toward me.
"Come and sit on my knees like a granddaughter. I am going to do something that you don't know about."
Quite docilely she places her warm rump on my thighs. She puts her hands on my shoulders and faces me, her thighs opened and her cunt ready to receive my attack. I take hold of her buttocks and pull her towards me.
"Will it be good?"
"Just wait and see."
I press her a bit tighter, guiding my prick so that it just parts the lips of her cunt. She shuts her eyes, waiting for the new sensations. I press even harder, aligning my weapon and suddenly shaft up her.
"Oh! that's good. I like that ... do it again."
I do the same thing a dozen times going right up. I hold her so tightly that the hairs of our bushes become tangled together. This has the required effect since she locks her arms around my neck and starts thrusting with her belly quite furiously. She is so adroit that there is not the slightest risk of becoming unharnessed. She holds on to me with her nails. Her hair is all over her face, her lips are foaming, and she looks like a young witch who is groaning on the rack.
"You have a wonderful prick, my darling ... it feels so good just everywhere. Oh! you're fucking me so...."
She is getting the taste for it, and I begin to have confidence.
"You too have a beautiful soft and hot little cunt. Shall we try to come together?"
"Oh yes, together! ... like that again! ... Oh, how hard it is!"
It seems to me that as our organs separate everything goes with her; my balls and my belly seem to remain with her. I know this feeling; it will not be long now before I come. I take her hands and make her touch my balls so that she can see what a state they are in. It amazes her to feel them so hard. I cup one of her breasts and tickle a nipple. This simple gesture is enough to start me off, and with her hands caressing my balls as well I feel myself come. I have shot it up her cunt.
I helped her to come by caressing her button. Just a few movements and she groans.
"That's it! ... Oh, it's good! ... Ah! Aah!"
Shaking convulsively, she leans on my shoulder. It is almost like dying. We remain like that for a while, pressed tightly together. I feel her vagina walls pulsing and contracting as if trying to push out my now useless tool. I think as much as I can. I feel the girl is at my mercy but I cannot yet see how to make something out of it. She moves and comes back to life. She smiles and kisses me.
"How well you make love. I was really lucky to bump into you."
Curious to see how we are linked together, she looks down. All she can see is a mixture of blonde and black hairs; she draws back and sees the thing which has so upset her come out
"Heavens, how long it is! Did I really have all that inside my belly? It's quite amazing ... You know the first time it hurt so much, I thought that you had injured me."
She is still moving backwards and the glans parts her cunt lips and comes out shining with both our ejaculations. A sigh of regret moves her breasts.
"That's funny, I feel all empty now."
She picks up the instrument and caresses it gently. My prick becomes soft between her fingers. She amuses herself with this new plaything.
"How fragile it is; it's becoming quite soft."
"There is a way of hardening it up, you know ... Do you want to know how?"
"Oh yes!"
I lift her off my thighs and put her on the floor between my legs with her head on a level with my cock I can see on her face a peculiar mixture of emotions: lust as well as anxiety. My hand presses gently on her neck; she catches the idea. She takes my pride and joy in her fingers, moves it near her mouth and swallows it between her greedy lips as if it were a morsel she had been waiting for for ages.
She is a bit of an amateur which bothers me at first, but it is not long before I feel the blood rushing up the column and soon I am rampant again. She gets better every moment. Her tongue moves more quickly, darting around and about. She closes her eyes with pleasure as she feels the tool expanding and hardening up.
"Platoon, halt! If you go on like that you will get an unpleasant surprise."
I move my hips back. Her eyes are glazed with ecstasy as she watches it come out of her mouth in fighting trim.
"It's almost as good as making love. Next time I want you to come right in my mouth."
"It's a deal."
I lift her up and place her as she was before. She moves her cunt forward to put my cock in it.
"Just a minute, don't be in so much of a hurry. It's much better when you play around a bit first, don't you think?"
She is in tacit agreement. I start the game off and fondle her behind, parting her buttocks and caressing the furrow which seems to be well appreciated.
"Your education is still not complete you know. Do you want to try something new?" No answer.
"Silence means consent."
I pick her up around the waist and put her on the bed.
Turn over."
She obeys docilely and stretches out on her belly. Her rounded buttocks which are thus offered to me give me one hell of a thrill. With my finger I caress the furrow. Her muscles relax as if inviting me to carry on. I warn her.
"This is going to hurt a bit at the beginning, but afterwards you will like it just as much as the other way."
I fondle her a little to bring her passion up and then open the little hole as far as it will go. I had taken care to anoint my tool with saliva; it will go in better that way. I get into position and gently press down ... Her fair neck stiffens and she muffles her moans in the pillow, gripping hard on the eiderdown.
"Shall I stop?"
Her head rolls from side to side. I carry on; she cannot muffle her groans much longer.
That's enough, you are driving me mad!" I come out quickly, turn her over and penetrate with one lunge. She was certainly ready for it, her open twat is dripping with desire. I have really put her in a state. The eiderdown is all wet. No sooner have I have driven my prick in than she begins to sing out.
"Oh! like that, go at it hard! ... it's good, Oh! Ooh!"
Her moans fill the room. They must be able to hear it upstairs. This girl is going to give me a terrible reputation. Now she is screaming.
"Oh, Martin, my darling, my darling."
She bites me, her legs grip me round the waist, her heels press tight into my kidneys, and all the time the same song.
"Oh! Again, again!"
She is gripping me with everything she's got ... And there it comes, it's the climax ... her whole body quivers.
"Oh, Martin, don't move out, leave your prick in!"
She falls back quite limp with her breasts still spasmodically moving. Once again I have really given it to her. I move away from her and leave her swooning on the bed. Just now, when I was working her over I worked out a neat little plan. I go over to the table, open her bag and look at her identification which is tucked in a pocket inside. Frances Worthington, 7 Park Lane. Worthington? Park Lane? ... Christ, it's his daughter ... Martin, my boy, you've really hit the jackpot here!
I carefully put the card back and go and he down beside her. I stroke and tease her very gently, just like an elder brother.
"Darling, it's six o'clock, don't you think that you will be late?"
"Oh, hell it was so nice!"
She gets up regretfully and dresses.
"You know I have to go away for a week on business. You are going to miss me."
"Will you promise not to even look at another woman?"
"Cross my heart."
At the moment she takes it very well, but I know that in two or three days she will begin to feel the loss. That's just what I want.
"Shall I take you home? My car is outside."
"No, don't bother, I'll take a taxi...."
"It's no trouble at all...."
"Thanks, but don't bother."
Just what I thought, you little trollop. I'll teach you to go out behind your father's back.
CHAPTER VIII
I tried to find out through the regular channels who lived at 7 Park Lane, but drew a blank everywhere. Luckily my contacts are working well.
I played around with a girl from the Post Office for some time and I ask her. She doesn't know how to say no, the dear little thing. I got the information in record time, and called the number.
I should like to speak to Mr. Worthington, please."
A syrupy voice replies, quite a sickening bitch she must be.
I'm frightfully sorry, the Minister is not at home, but can I give him a message? Who is calling please?" I hung up.
Quite an amazing character this Worthington, from all accounts. Before the war he was just a piddling little income tax inspector with nothing at all to recommend him. At the beginning of the war he was involved in some shady deal or other which resulted in him being put inside as a Communist sympathizer, but of course as soon as the pact with Stalin was signed out he came with a bang. Luckily nowadays he seems to have been able to shake off that stigma and has become a very respectable although not a respected Conservative. Pillar of the nation type. But there is still the notion, at least so it has filtered down to me, that he owes his present place in the Cabinet to quite a bit of sharp practice and also a little shady blackmail. Well, he recently married again.
Anyway I shall be trying some of his own medicine on him. But I shall have to be very careful. He could have put me away just by snapping his finger.
I worked very patiently with Frances. It wasn't too difficult; she needed a man around, must have something to do with her glans. I stretched out our sessions until she was gasping for it each time. But it was time to stop. I was getting tired of it and her cunt was too greedy. I worked the whole thing out well. All I needed was a pocket camera and a good photographer. The camera was no problem but the photographer was another matter. I couldn't use just anybody. I thought of the least stupid of the women who work for me. I explained the idea to her. I went over the whole thing in the minutest detail speaking only in words of one syllable so that she should understand. What really made her understand was the tenner I gave her.
"You will be behind the curtain,' facing the bed. Don't worry about the girl when she is coming because then she can't see anything at all. You draw back the curtain slightly and you press the button. It's very easy, but all the same try not to let yourself be seen.
"How will I know when the time is?"
"Don't worry, you'll hear coming. You can't mistake it."
I had told her to be there at seven o'clock since dusk was around half past. Frances wouldn't be surprised at seeing the curtains drawn and the light on.
My girl was hidden there. The curtains came right down to the floor so there was no danger of anything being seen apart from a slight rippling which would not be noticed. To keep her attention from wandering off the job, I had undressed completely and was laying on the bed smoking a cigarette while waiting. I hear her coming up the stairs. To be polite I give my tool the necessary care to give me a hard-on, to show I have been waiting for her.
She comes in, and as I expected has eyes for one thing only.
"Oh! My love, how impatient you are. Do I mean that much to you?"
She kisses me all over while her hands busy themselves with my tool.
"You really love me hard, don't you, darling? Boy it's going to be good!"
I help her to get undressed. Just a few caresses and then she is ready to swallow me up whole. She rubs me up like the real slut that she is.
"Darling; I want to come."
I lie down on my back, take hold of her by her hips and put her in position for our session of gymnastics.
"Just move down slowly. I'll guide you towards my prick as straight as an arrow; put it in and bingo we're away. Carefully, don't hurt yourself."
She doesn't hear me already; she's so occupied with taking care of herself. Her arms stretched out, she grips me by the shoulders and lunges like a bucking bronco.
"Take hold of my tits darling, pinch them, I like it ... not too hard you're hurting me ... Oh, yes like that, just move your hand slowly. Yes, like that ... Oh, darling I'm going to come!"
Just thinking about what is going to happen gives me a thrill. I can see the money just flowing out of her cunt. No more work for me: off to the South of France with the wife and children and the gay life. In spite of all these delightful thoughts I have to think of the matter in hand, for the girl is quite out of control. Her twat encircles my cock and slips forward, slips like never before. She begins to come, her eyes close, her flat belly tenses tight and then suddenly, relaxes and shakes with shuddering spasms ... a real tempest.
"Oh! I am really coming this time!"
I, in my turn, get the feeling and thrust forward until the raging sperm boils up from my aching balls. But I still hear that click. That girl has a little sense.
CHAPTER IX
"You idiot, I told you to breathe in before you pressed the shutter. Exactly what you didn't do, look at that mess...."
"I did what you told me to. I've never used a camera before."
She is too stupid; if I didn't restrain myself I would give her a good beating.
"Just get out of my sight."
She goes off with her tail between her legs. All that work for nothing; the films not worth a farthing. Quite impossible to see what is happening. So it'll have to be done again, but this time by someone sensible. The only person I can think of is my wife.
I put it to her, and she is not very struck with the idea.
"I don't like it at all. If it goes badly I'm in it with you and I have two children."
"Nothing at all to fear. If the picture comes out its in the bag. They'll be eating out of our hands. And think of your brother...."
She thinks of her brother and that sways the balance. He is in great difficulties at home because he cannot make his way into a trade. She would so much like to see him set up in a little shop.
She trains for a week, taking photo after photo. She becomes quite professional.
Frances phones me every day: it's a long time since I attended to her needs; if I didn't meet her soon she didn't know what she was going to do. I changed the plan. It seems that to get a really good picture we must both be standing up and in profile not very far away from the lens.
Everything is in order when she arrives. All I have to do is knock or just come, for my wife to press the button. This time I wait for her dressed. I take her in my arms and give her a searching loss.
She starts her heavy breathing already.
While undressing her, I move her round near the camera. I slip off her skirt and send it flying with a flick of the foot, and her slip goes after it. Pop goes a button and there are a pair of titties that Lollobrigida would be envious of; just a flip at the elastic and her garter-belt drops down.
There she is in my arms quite naked: blonde, warm and eager. I notice that already she is wide open with heat and begging to be satisfied. I give a slight fondle round her cunt, a little twitch on the button.
"Oh! Martin!"
I have to hold her up, she is so eager that she is trying to drag me down onto the floor. I stop caressing her. Now it's her turn to start undressing me; this will make for real human interest.
She does it very well: tie, shirt and trousers in three movements. She takes a little longer over my pants; she can't resist running her fingers through my bush and fondling my prick. She brings it out and holds it tight as if she was frightened that it would fly away. I give her a little tickle in the right place. She closes her eyes. Click ... one shot.
I stop my idle thoughts: she decided to take my pants off. Now we are both in our working clothes.
She locks her arms around me and rubs her pussy against my hardened prick. She rubs me up to excite me.
"Martin, don't make me wait for it."
I'll certainly make you wait for it, you slut. I stroke her rump, her tits, and then her cunt but I don't get onto her.
She is more excited: she stands on tiptoe to grip my cock between her thighs. I don't help her, quite the opposite I do all I can to excite her. I have a tit in my mouth and I suck the nipple which gets a miniature hard-on. This gets her even more aroused. Like the well-trained woman she is, she begs me, ready to do anything to get her satisfaction.
"Martin, I beg you, give it to me or I shall have to go....
"Don't let go of my prick, but grab me around the neck."
I catch hold of her under her thighs, round the buttocks and lift her off the floor so that her legs hang down touching mine. She is sitting on a new kind of chair. She is impatient for this new sensation and ceaselessly rolls her sensitive nipples over my chest, all the while jerking her belly towards me. I am playing this game my way and, taking hold of her thighs firmly, I bring her body closer so that our organs touch but do not penetrate.
I do this several times and she is almost fainting, her head is hanging down limply.
Click ... another shot.
I approach her and point my rampant prick into her cunt which is almost pissing with lust. I go in a little way, just a bit more and out we come again. She grits her teeth and scratches me ... that's all she can do in this position because she has no support. I go on with this maneuver. She cannot take it any more; her nerves are frazzled. She shouts at me loudly.
"Please, oh, please fuck me! Do what you like but please fuck me. I am going mad. Look at all that juice already just because of you. Quick put it in."
Click ... third picture.
She is almost having a nervous breakdown. If I let go of her, she would tear up the curtains. I tease her again. Then I run right up into her. She screams hysterically, her eyes streaming.
Click....
Her cry becomes louder and becomes a loud moan. I hold her firmly and move her around against me. A few rubs and a few slides and then one good thrust which makes her go limp for a moment with pleasure. Now I don't stop my movement. With rhythmic lunges I go into her. Her organs are dying with lust. Each movement of my prick brings on a new wave of pleasure.
I have never seen her like this before; she is quite lost in sensation. She doesn't know whether she has come already or if she is going to come. She is limp against me, but there is a storm raging in her belly, all caused by this great cock.
But this position is tiring and I put her down on the bed and lunge into her like a rutting beast. She receives the thrust of my bucking as a supreme relief, twisting her breasts in her hands. For both of us deliverance comes simultaneously. We come together. All my semen shoots up inside her and I don't stop my thrusts.
Click....
She is lying inert, quite worn out. I motion my wife out and she slips away noiselessly.
CHAPTER X
In spite of the poor light the extra-sensitive film worked well. My wife did a very good job. Out of the six pictures, three are particularly good. Frances is completely recognizable. That's real dynamite I have there. I must put the negatives in a safe place; it's worth more than my life.
Everything's done; a friend did four prints of each picture. I sent one to John with instructions in case I have any trouble: one sealed to my solicitor to be opened in the event of my death and I address one to myself Poste Restante. I am prepared.
I phone Frances at her father's house.
"Hello, I would like to speak to Frances please."
"I'll just see if she's at home ... who's speaking please?"
"Just say that a friend has to speak to her."
I wait for an incredibly long time. The house must be immense.
"Hello, who is this?"
"I asked for Frances...."
"Speaking, but who are?"
"Don't worry darling, it's Martin here."
Dead silence. She is completely dumb. That must give her quite a turn, that I know who she is.
"Well is that all you can say, you're not very talkative."
"Yes, quite all right, sir, thank you very much."
"I understand, there's someone around...."
"Certainly, yes."
"I need to see you urgently, four o'clock at the El Tropico, and you must be there ... got it?"
"Thank you, sir, yes I will pass on your best wishes n
....
She hangs up. The telephone made a funny sound: like falling money!
She comes into El Tropico at the arranged time. She seems very unworried for a girl who is treading on a minefield. She kisses me and sits down.
"You shouldn't have phoned me; my mother was there and I had to think up some excuse...."
"You mean your stepmother!"
"Oh, so you know all about that!"
"I know just everything; I have second sight; I know that your father made a very profitable marriage some five years ago."
"Why did you ask me to come?"
"Well, I'll tell you. I'm in a bit of a spot right now; I was counting on some money which hasn't materialized and I have obligations to meet. I'm in a fix and I'm looking for someone to get me out of it."
"Darling, if only I could do something ... I don't get much dress money but I think I could lend you-"
I cut her short.
"I know that babe; I have never doubted your willingness, but I wasn't thinking of you so much. Perhaps you could advise me...."
"But of course."
"I have several pictures which I think are very valuable and I am counting on selling them. If the price offered is sufficiently high naturally ... Perhaps you know some people who are interested in rare works of art? Do you want to see them?"
"I'm in a bit of a hurry."
"It won't take long, just look at these."
I bring out the photos. She is petrified with amazement.
"Did you do that?"
"No, but my wife did; she's a real tigress. Believe me, it's better to be dealing with me than with her."
She grabs hold of the pictures in a rage and tears them up into small pieces.
"Pity about those, but don't worry, I'll send you a fresh lot tomorrow."
She begins to cry silently, her head dropping. It's stupid, sure it's stupid, but then so is life.
"Don't wait too long because there are others who may be interested. I think a journalist would take one for a friend of your father's; I even think I know who, too ... That would be a pity for Daddy wouldn't it Believe me it is pure friendship that makes me give you the first refusal."
"What do you want me to do?"
"That's your business. But I think somehow that your stepmother will arrange things very well ... women understand each other. Would you like me to talk to her?"
"No, you swine!"
She got up. The look she gives me would have made Medusa look small-time. I think that after this I shall have to be very careful.
"Oh! I almost forgot: I have a very good life insurance, a copy with my solicitor and another ... elsewhere. Guarded on all sides. Good-bye, darling ... We had our moments didn't we!"
I got my little gift, too. A pretty little parcel straight from stepmother's bank. She's a sensible woman: she appreciates that her husband's position warrants this little sacrifice.
