During many years as a Fleet Street reporter, covering the day by day Courts, and the many side-issues of stories that never got either into the newspapers or into the Courts, the author encountered many life-stories which were fascinating, wild, and yet not suitable for the tabloid press.
Greater London is a community of some ten million people, ranking it as one of the largest cities in the world. A Londoner can never know the whole city, nor even all of the tube railway stations. He lives in one area, commutes to his work; so the average Londoner knows two areas of the city very well. The rest is a vast, vague brick and concrete maze. The result of these millions of people living within a circle of some twenty mile radius, breeds an insularity, a cool, a complete disinterest in anything not of their immediate concern. And there are ethnic groups which further this. One area is Spanish, another Italian, a further one Jamaican, while Poles live in an area of Edgware Road, and on and on. London, like New York, is a great gathering of many people. As the first city was founded over two thousand years ago, the complex stratas of its societies require almost the skill of an archaeologist as much as a sociologist. One can be in many different worlds, in London, not only of people, but of habits and periods, too.
Diana V., came to our Fleet Street office to sell her life story for publication. It was a wild story, and since Diana was just twenty-six, the girl seemed to have lived enough for several girls her age. The girl had started to write her story in longhand in lined notebooks. She brought with her diaries that revealed the truth and background of it all.
Her true story is fascinating because of the girl's resiliance, and ability to take the hardest knocks of life, and to recover. Diana V. was also lucky, for she seemed always to escape from a possible disaster and be able to look back on it all as just "experience." Her adventurous spirit had led her into many scrapes and tight comers. But Diana still had a great belief in herself, and her eventual success.
All names and places of note have been changed, so as to avoid any embarrassment to any person concerned.
It should be added that Diana V. is a very striking girl of slightly above average height, with dark long hair, light blue eyes, and a very slim figure. She was wearing a very short miniskirt that accentuated the natural taper of her long legs in their black panti-hose. A brisk, smiling, yet serious girl, Diana V. had the intensity of today's modern youth. For all that she had been an orgy girl, Diana still believes in people, and the world changing for the better. Her swift smile, and her bright voice, certainly shows she is always ready for yet another adventure.
James Z. Muntz Beverly Hills, California April 1969.
CHAPTER ONE
THE FIRST BOY
Sir Peters was lying on the bed, naked and holding a glass of champagne, when I came in. He was not drunk. I have never seen him drunk. He was just another randy man, as far as I was concerned.
"Hey there-orgy girl. You are just in time. I got a hell of a hard-on!" I could see that!
"Take your clothes off, me dear. Arthur is being ill in the other room, and John is with Gloria. This damned wing-ding has been going on for three days now. Damned if people have the stamina they used to."
There was a lot of noise going on in the next room. I could hear a girl shouting, then the crash of glasses. It seemed that they were out to ruin and wreck the place. Giving a sigh, I joined Pe ters on his bed. He goggled at me, then grinned and rolled over to make room.
"Help yourself to a glass of bubbly, my dear. You're late starting, so we'd best make up time, eh." He suddenly got off the bed and raced around the room. "I'll get you a clean glass, here-with the courtesy of the management." But his aim was bad, so the champagne spilled and sprayed as he tried to fill the glass. "My Gawd, I am onto double vision. We were celebrating something or other, that's how it all started, dashed if I remember what it was."
At last Peters managed to fill the glass, put the bottle down, hand me the glass, and slowly get back onto the bed. He was still holding his glass as I sipped from mine. A few sips and I felt better. It is always a shock coming straight into things like this.
"I say, old girl, you have a wonderful back. Let's make love and drink bubbly at the same time, eh, what? Yes, put your legs over mine, slowly, easy. My, long-legged beastie you are! Lovely girl. Been thinking of you all night, yes, rather. There, easy over. And don't jog that glass, you wild thing. What a body, eh, what a lovely body!"
I had both my legs resting over his thighs, and Peters slid one hand down. He guided his thick cock up, and pressed. I was startled and came near upsetting my glass.
"Steady there, just a bit further, ease down. There, now, if I wriggle closer, you arch higher, ahh!" Peters was quivering with his lust.
I could feel his manly cock pressing until it found me. I had to hold the glass with both hands from the sensual shock as he entered my body. My legs were wider, loosely over his thighs as he lay on his side, at a right angle to me. Now he was slowly rocking backwards and forwards.
"Don't, Pete, I'll spill it; stay put. Please, stay put." I told him sharply. I wanted to drink at least two glasses before I could relax and enjoy the party. This sudden sex was too much, at nine o'clock in the morning. They had been at it all for three days. I had come in from a cold start, and the ideas were not that bright. I wanted to lie there, drink the champagne, and allow Peters to take his time.
"This is damned good. The old boy in soak, and in a nice girl called Diana, wonderful time, great party. Best orgy I've ever had. Wizard, really terrific." Peters' words began to slow down. He drained his glass, sighed, and the glass fell from his fingers. It was the one he had searched for, the one that suddenly put him over the top. I could feel his body sagging down.
"I have been thinking of you all night, Diana, all night," he mumbled. "All night, and on, and on all night."
His head rested back against a pillow. Then Peters' mouth opened and he snored. I was astonished. Lying there with my legs over him, with his hard-on cock nice and tight within me, and Peter is asleep! It made me smile. I was free to reach out for the bottle of champagne and help myself to another glass, and yet another. He was out to the world, but still with me, deep and strongly. Peters had the strength of a small bull. I charged him fifty guineas for a session, and he always had more than his money's worth.
Champagne is good for you. They give it to heart patients in hospitals. Four or five glasses are enough to make me free and afloat. I still sipped as I wriggled down and held onto Peters' cock well and truly. One thing with Peters, he was spending his fortune almost as fast as he had inherited it. So far his parties and orgies had been a good thing for the past four months. I wondered when he would run out of money. It would be a sad day. I was quite fond of him and his virile ways.
Yet, it was a hell of a way to make a living. Model, fashion-plate style, and an orgy girl on the side! Every little helps to pay the rent. The champagne made me feel nice and cozy. I could almost feel love for Peters, even if he was snoring while still in me. It was his way. If this is what gave him his good times, let him enjoy it. I would still have my check at the end of the morning session. So, no matter if he awoke now and we began to make really hot love, it would all work out the same in the end. Though of late I had begun wondering what the end would be. I certainly seemed to have come a long way since I was at school. I giggled into my glass of fresh champagne. A girl is like a bottle of cham pagne-once started, it must be used up fully for it never keeps.
But how had I got here? Resting over Peters, a fat little man, Sir Peters Walmington of Upper Chalfont. Such a nice, rich, and baroque title for such a short, plump man with boyish fads. I certainly had travelled a very long way since those school-girl times. It had been very exciting, and never dull. The more I thought about it, the happier I seemed to have been. Yet, what of tomorrow? I preferred not to think about it!
Champagne is good for you, it makes one relax, and forget. It is a nice way of getting drunk. There is no hang-over. Good champagne is a great float-off to cloud nine. I love it. Perhaps Peters had conditioned me to too expensive tastes.
But how had I got here? Resting on this snug body. Listening to the sleeping man as he snugly fitted in beneath me! I smiled and went back in my mind. It seemed ages and ages ago. But, it was a long time, all of seven years. Fancy, seven years is simply a life-time. I was shocked to think it was seven years since I was with Colin. I was just fifteen when Colin came into my life.
We had a house out in Buckinghamshire, not far from Pen Village and right out in the countryside really. Father was away a lot. He worked for an American firm of consulting engineers, and so flew from one part of the world to the next. Mother went with him, as the family grew up. I was the youngest, and my other sister, Trudy, was four years older than me. Trudy and I had little in common with each other. I think Trudy was jealous of my being younger and perhaps prettier. Anyway, Trudy was sports minded. I liked to watch Trudy ride and win all of those cups and ribbons. It was at the Hurst Point to Point that I met Colin. He was seventeen, two years older than me, and he was rather a shy young man. But Colin was very wise. I liked him at the very first meeting. I remember coming home and hoping he would phone.
Colin called me up the next day. I was so breathlessly excited I could hardly do more than stammer to him over the telephone. He wished to know if I might be interested in going to the Hunt Ball. The Hunt Ball! I was so thrilled I could think of nothing else but Colin for the rest of that week. It seemed to be that I had suddenly burst onto the adult world, so easily, so simply, and with a wonderful young man to take me about. I suppose like so many girls, the first great date is the really important one. I had an escort, and he was a wonderful escort. Tall and good looking, rich and capable. The fact that he was only two years older than I was, and in many ways I seemed to be more mature than Colin ever could be, did not enter my mind in the first great bubble of a dream.
At fifteen I had always considered myself very knowledgeable. Going to my particular school, I had learned all that there was to know about life, in sex matters anyway. We girls had some bright members of our class, real botany specialists, and they brought us all the latest books, including the details of the birth control pill. The Catholic girls in my year raised a lot of arguments about it. There is a lot to be said for a good English girls school to give one a wide knowledge on all there is to know. In a way we all believed we would eventually marry; that is we would meet 'Mr. Right' one day, and settle for being a comfortable and comforting wife. I had dismissed this idea from my mind many times, as I am more like my father. I love to travel, to see the world, to depart to some distant point and see everything there is to be seen. So I knew all about sexual matters. I felt that if the chance came I would accept sexual experience, from the right boy, of course. It sounds very cool, but in these matters I am a cool kind of a person. It could be Colin was going to meet these requirements, and that he would turn out to be Mr. Right. We would see. If he did make love to me, then I would make darned certain there would be no disastrous results. But, in fact, it never came about as I expected. Life does not let things happen the way one thinks they should, ever. Not for me, anyway.
So I awaited the Hunt Ball with a breathless excitement. I had a new gown, and permission from the school to stay out late. I had let it be known that I would go home to our house after the Ball, and stay at home the week-end, returning to the school on Monday. I did not mention to the Head Mistress that both my parents were away in New Guinea right this moment. The Hunt Ball was going to be as complete an occasion as I could manage.
The Ball itself was wonderful. I forget it all, except that I tasted champagne for the first time. There were chandeliers down the great hall. I was very awed. Colin's uncle was the Hunt Master, and Colin seemed to know everyone. We danced until the early hours, and I think we were about the last people to leave.
It was raining, and Colin had a small M.G. sports car, which he had explained to me was special. It was special, as it went wrong several times on the way home. In fact it got as far as the driveway to my home before it conked out completely. We dashed through the dark rain, and I had a key to let myself into the house. Colin was shivering with his coat collar turned up. We slipped in, and I led the way into the kitchen.
"I'm sorry, Diana, you got all muddy." Colin was drying his face with a towel as I made some hot chocolate for us.
"Why are you whispering?" I asked him. "There's no one else at home. My parents are in New Guinea, and Trudy is off to the Somerset Meet for the weekend. Our servants have all gone to London for a good time. How do you like yours?" I pointed to his cup.
"Not too sweet." Colin flushed and smiled. He was almost eighteen and was thinking of going to Sandhurst. He would make a good officer. I liked the way he stayed quiet.
"Here, some crackers with your chocolate?" I asked.
"No, thank you, Diana. Jolly daft, my car going wobbly like that. I thought I had the carburation dead right-suppose the dashed water got in and ruined it all. I can phone the garage at eight and get them out here to tow me away."
"Don't worry about it, Colin. I had a wonderful, really wonderful time." I kissed him on the cheek. Colin chuckled and pulled me onto his lap. I could feel a hard pressure against my derriere, and I knew what that was! Colin was sexually excited about me, and I was happy at the thought. Everything was very wonderful.
After we had drunk our chocolate, we stole upstairs hand in hand. I had decided to sleep in my parents bed, which was big, and I took Colin into the bedroom with me.
"It will be dawn in an hour or so," I whispered as he kissed me. "Do you want to stay?"
"Yes, but, here? Diana, I think, well, I don't want to be a rotter and take advantage of you."
"Oh, Colin, don't leave me. I would be so frightened to be alone here all by my little self." I pressed against him, and I could feel how hard he was. It was wonderful to have this effect on someone. I tried not to giggle as he protested.
But I turned all the lights out except one by the large bed with its red counterpane. I yawned and sighed. I felt it was a super world, for us. Resting against his shoulder, I was surprised to feel his hands come down inside my dress; as they touched my firm breasts, I was breathless from the closeness of him.
"Colin, sweet, let's get into the bed," I managed to whisper to him, for I felt almost drunk from a glow that was beginning to fire right through me. I had not expected desire. In fact, I was all set to tease him for hours and hours, and not allow him anything, unless he deserved it.
"I am taking advantage of you, Diana." Colin protested.
"Yes, oh, yes, please do!" I fled back, and removed my clothes without looking across at him. In my silk shift I was in the bed, and faced away from him and the light. I could hear Colin moving about. Then the light went off and he came into the great bed with me.
"Diana, dear," Colin whispered and his arm stole about me. I was panting with my heart simply hammering right at my throat. What was I doing! Why had I allowed this to happen! I was stiff with a kind of fright, and desire, and passion, and confusion. I was in bed with Colin. My hand went down as he turned my body round to be held by his arms, and my hand closed about a stiff cock that I had not expected to feel.
"Oh, oh, Colin, what is this? Tell me, dear, what is it?" I was really teasing him, trying to prevent him from realising just how swept off my feet he had made me.
"It is for this," Colin replied very coolly, and his hand came up under my shift and touched my love button, his fingers like brutal points that shocked me right to the very core of my innermost being. I could not help my legs shooting out, and Colin was panting as he dragged my shift off. In the darkness he was kissing my breasts. runnier his hands down my body. Now his strong fingers parted my love lips and one finger pusned into me so that I cried out in wet, hot alarm.
"Colin, no, no, Colin. I mustn't let you." I was all set to fight for my body. His finger was massaging to and fro. A sudden spasm of wet seemed to drag my whole body onto Colin's hand.
"A pillow, we need a pillow, darling." Colin huskily told me. He dragged a pillow over and held my waist up, so he could ram first one pillow, then a second one beneath me. I felt my thighs simply open right up for him. I was panting, protesting, my legs writhing about the bed.
"I love you, Diana!" Colin came right over me. He kissed my breasts, then my neck, then about my ears. I could feel his body right between my legs. The first man ever to be loving me like this, and it was an intensely new, and yet a strangely known, position to be in for me. I raised my legs, and I suddenly felt his fingers at my moist slit again. But this time they were steering his cock, and bringing it up and against me. Colin must have loved other women, for he knew what he was doing. He placed his cock against me. Then he slowly pressed until I felt it was impossible to accept such a huge, hot, and strong piece of flesh into the delicate opening between my loins. But Colin knew better. He slid one arm about my waist. His other hand came around beneath me. Then he brought my thighs to him. He lifted me right against him, and that cock came into me so suddenly I gave a short scream!
Colin ignored my screams. He pushed me right over so that my thighs were up to him, and my body over and down on the bed. My legs were jerking in the dark, warm air. Colin had his cock right into me, jamming down harder and harder into my slit. He rotated his thighs about and about in a circular motion. This made his steel-like cock swirl about like a rod right inside me. I could feel everything dissolving, getting whitehot, bursts of cries came from me. But my breath had gone. In three great sobs I was into an ecstasy of wet releases I had never heard about ever before.
"Oh, Colin!" I cried out. "Oh, Colin-aah Colin!" Colin was now stroking his cock into and out of me in an ever increasing swiftness. His loving had changed, and he pulled me to him to kiss me wildly, suck at my breasts, run his tongue around the inside of my mouth. I responded instantly to everything he did. His steel hard body was taking mine and giving me an agony and a joy all mixed up. The girls at school had never whispered to me that it would be like this! I gasped and shuddered as I came to another orgasm that simply left me limp. Colin's cock was going so fast I was sobbing aloud to the rhythms of that pulsating piece of male flesh that was so great and so joyous for me. I gurgled and clung to him. Colin hissed for breath. His body now jerked tightly against mine, once, twice, then a slower third time and we were stroking into a perfect moment. Our bodies joined as one, and I could feel his hot come filling all of me as Colin's passion spurted into the depths of my hungry body.
I was so full of Colin I seemed unable to be myself. I was just part of his wonderful body. I wanted him to go on and on, but even as I sighed and sobbed, we suddenly seemed to slide down and down, into a perfect sleep.
When I awoke, Coline had his cock hard and in me. He was moving it gently about, and all those delicious thrills I had never before encountered came to make me wriggle, plead, pant and bite at him. I knew I was as sore as hell, all up my slit, but I was also marveling at how Colin came to have such a wonderful cock and how he was so easily able to half drive me out of my mind with the pleasure of it.
"This is fucking." Colin chuckled as he told me.
"Yes, yes, yes it is-aaah!" I groaned as I surged with him.
"You were made for fucking, Diana!"
"Aaah, aaah! Oh, dear, darling, I know, aaah!" I cried out.
"You have a terribly tight cunt. I almost couldn't get into you the first time. I'm working to make it bigger and deeper, and a lovely cunt you will have now!" Colin was spinning his cock around and around. "Say 'Fuck me, please Colin'. Go on, say it, 'Fuck me please!' "
"Aaah, oh, oh, oooh! Fuck me, fuck me, fuuuck me!" I gasped out as his cock fucked into my hot cunt and I was swimming again, sore and sobbing, and yet unable to stop.
"I am hurting, Colin!" I managed to tell him at last.
"Hurting? Oh, you're sore. I should have used some jelly, but you are wet enough. I never use anything. I like to let my hot come go right into a delicious little cunt like yours!"
"Oh, Colin! Oh, if I have a baby!" I wrapped my legs tightly about him to keep with the to and fro surging of his thighs, and so that his cock could get right into the very heart of my being. "Oh, Colin, fuck me; please fuck me."
Colin laughed. "I am, Diana, I am! If you get pregnant, you'll have to tell them it was someone else."
"I'm sore! Oh, but I'm sore." I sobbed, uselessly trying to fend him away. "I love you-I love you so much."
"'Sore but satisfied', say it-go on, say 'sore but satisfied'."
"I'm sore but satisfied, yes, aaaah!" I felt a last jolt of his cock as it spurted out yet a fourth time into me. It was so marvelous, I felt like lying back and sobbing for the joy of our young flesh. This was the true and only way to make love. We curled up and went to sleep again.
I will say one thing for Colin; at seventeen, he was remarkably well developed for his age. I do not know if all young lads of seventeen have a perpetual hard-on, but Colin certainly seemed to have. He only had to rest his cock against me, and it was a rigid rod. And he could leave it in my body, and it would never go soft, not even after he had come. It would slip down and relax slightly, but it was still big and hard.
"I love fucking. I have been fucking since I was thirteen," Colin told me as he was soaking his cock right in my wet cunt. We were both in a golden sweat of exhaustion, and learning something about each other now.
I nodded in silence. I was too dazed and exhausted to speak to him, but my hands came down and caressed his large scrotum, making him sigh! The sigh shivered up his cock and made my body quiver right to my very neck. His cock was so long and tight within me. Each time Colin made the slightest move, my body seemed to be swirled about and ripped right open. I know now, of course, that he was an exceptional young lover. For a time, while with Colin, I thought all men had hard-on cocks all the time, just the way he did. It does sound frightfully silly. But I was only fifteen, and had just lost my virginity, so naturally I thought all men would be as fantastically good, sexually, as Colin was. It was a great surprise to find out how quickly most men got soft cocks. In fact, some of them can only just get one full hard-on, and, after blowing off, they need several days and a lot of hand nursing before they can get back into loving shape again. It shows you how silly a fifteen year old girl is, that she should consider all men to have such good cocks as Colin!
"We had a young girl, her mother helped in the kitchen," Colin told me that night. "One afternoon, I was reading in my bed and Flo, this girl, comes in and starts that business, 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours.' Anyway, I got her onto the bed and got my prick out, which was hard, and let her touch it, and the moment she took her panties down, I rammed my prick right into her. Flo went all white and fell back on the bed, but I was in such a hurry to come, I never noticed that. I was right in her, and doing it nicely, as I had read in so many books. Flo gave a grunt, and then another. Then she kind of tried to push me away, but was also holding me to her. She was panting like a bitch in heat, and she had her eyes closed. I guess I shot into her in a minute flat, and I am sure she came too. After that, we would be as quick as rabbits. We did it many times in different parts of the house. Funny girl, she never spoke about it, and would suddenly flop over and her legs would kick apart and I had to leap in there-just like rabbits, we were. This went on for a year. After Flo left, I found I was desperate for cunt. Even at fourteen, when a boy has been having it regularly a couple of times a week, sometimes even a couple of times a day when Flo was hot, suddenly not to have it is hellish hard. I walked about with my cock like a drum-stick, simply aching."
"It hurt badly?" I asked him with a giggle.
"Yes, having a hard-on all the time does hurt! You girls have no idea of how lust can hammer a chappie!"
"What did you do, sweet Colin?" I stirred my hips, feeling his tight cock warm and at home. I was pleased to think of all the hard-on pain I was saving my dear Colin from. Now I understood why men so desperately wanted girls. They had to have thorn! That was a nice thought, cuntpower was something. I would remember this!
"I was pretty desperate, I can tell you!" Colin went on telling me. "I was playing all sorts of games, and working hard, but my cock ached like a fiend of a thing. I even thought of going to the doctor and asking him about it. Then I had some luck. I was studying French, and I am terrible at foreign languages. My parents arranged for a tutor, a French girl, to help me. Michelle was a nice girl, and I was very embarrassed as she seemed so old, at least twenty five. Anyway, she asked me several times why I was not concentrating. As if I could concentrate with those wonderful legs and her body so close to me. I think she was engaged to some chap in Paris. Anyway, I blushed and stammered, and said I would have to give the lesson up, as I was too upset by the fact that-well, that she was such a sexy girl! That made Michelle laugh, and she said that surely a boy of my age is not worried about things like that. I said to her that I was serious, as I was in considerable pain, and the very perfume of her was enough to make me forget every word I knew-"let alone learn any new words. Michelle held me and looked at me, and then she saw the great bulge I could not hide in my grey flannel trousers, and she blushed. She explained that the lesson money was very important to her, as it was helping to buy a car she had wanted for a long time, and that I really must try to forget these things of man and woman and learn some French, or else the lessons would end. I said I was terrible sorry, and that I just could not help it.
"We had been standing close to each other, with Michelle sitting down to explain about the car payments to me. She had her legs open and I was drawn close to her. Suddenly I buried my face against her neck and muttered how terribly sorry I was. Then I unzipped my trousers and all at once I felt her fingers holding my cock. She gave a sigh and moved me to her, exclaimed how big I was, and it was astonishing that I should be so well equipped. Michelle was running her fingers along my cock, and I knew she was trying to stroke me off. But I pushed harder and harder against her, and her legs simply opened wider and wider. I could feel her breathing beginning to get fast, and I knew she was pretty excited about the whole thing. Suddenly Michelle pushed me away. She said it was stupid, and that I was not to do this. She stood up, and as she did so, I prodded and almost entered her. Michelle held me and seemed to quiver a hell of a lot. I laugh now when I think about it! Michelle was as hot as anyone, really.
"Anyway, she told me to put 'that thing' away. She went off to the bathroom, and when she came back she sat down with the French vocabulary book. I joined her. I was still aching, and I could feel, well, that Michelle was all kind of excited. I ran my hand up under her skirt, and she had nothing on now. In a twinkling I had my prick out and I was between her legs and feeling her small slit. I even went down and kissed it, and Michelle fell right back, the book in one hand and her legs kicking as I was kissing her mons in thanks. Then I rammed my great prick right into her, and she gave a scream. She told me later she had never had anything that huge in her. I guess I fucked her five times during that first three hour French lesson. I left all floppy-she was so weak she could hardly even get up. It was like that most of the lessons. And when she could not fuck, we learned French; she would kiss my cock and do it that way. Michelle told me that I was a great lover, and that I must not exhaust myself too young, as what I had would give a lot of pleasure to a great number of women. Strangely enough, with her I learned French very quickly, once we got fucking steadily. In fact, we used to talk nothing but French while I was driving my cock into her and making her babble those French words out ten to the dozen. It's the best way of learning a language. We had all the lessons in bed after that second session. You put sex and learning together, and you'd be surprised how one learns! Of course Michelle taught me a lot of things. How to make a woman really explode, orgasm completely. I think she rather was hoping to find someone to explore all the lines of sex with. I even buggered her one night, and she fought like hell against that. Diana, you know, you have a nice bottom, a lovely bottom." Colin's hand suddenly started caressing my rear in such a way that I knew what he meant.
"Oh, Colin, not now-later, when I am used to loving," I protested to him.
"I think a woman's bottom is the most beautiful thing. In fact just the sight of yours made me so excited, I had to have you. I could think of nothing else since we met at the Point to Point those weeks ago. I say, Diana, darling, do you think I am a sex maniac, or something?"
I stared at Colin. "No, no! I should say you are very loving, and that you seem to have a great deal of talent for it." I squeezed between my thighs as I spoke, making his cock feel that pressure of my hot cunt about it.
"Oh, oh, Diana! You naughty girl, you should not have done that." Colin simply could not help himself. He was stroking in and out in a furious session.
"Ohh! Colin!" was all I could shriek, as I clung to him yet once again. For Colin had such a wonderful cock. It drove the senses right out of my head. I never realized that a cock was such a wonderful instrument of pleasure. At fifteen I had most assuredly discovered a source of life's best thrills. I was in love with Colin, happily, completely, and fully yielding to him. I just could not have enough of him, and his great cock. I gave a cry as we wrestled closer and closer to each other. For I could feel the throbbing passion of his manhood simply exploding like a blasting cannon, opening me up to the raw fuel of life itself. I gave a great, breathless, sobbing cry, and shuddered to him as if we could never separate our flesh ever again!
I learned a great deal from Colin. He was very self-centered in a typically mannish way. If we went to a restaurant and the waiter placed a larger plate before me, Colin would go red with rage and swap the plate around as soon as the waiter had gone. He could not bear to see someone have more than him. At first it amused me, but later I found it all very irritating. If it was not that he was my first lover, and that he was such a great lover, I would have hated him long before I did. As it was, I was fifteen and so struck by his skill with his cock there was nothing I would not allow him to have, or to do to me.
I learned early that he liked to have his way, especially in sexual matters. That first weekend, alone in my home, with my parents away and the house all to ourselves, Colin was always making love to me. After we got up the next day, and while I was in the drawing room in my dressing gown, Colin suddenly came up behind me. I shuddered from the shock as I felt, impossible though it might seem, that his cock was hard again.
"Colin, Colin, we must have something to eat," I muttered as he put his hands up beneath my armpits and held my breasts. "Darling, we must have something to eat."
But he was pushing me over the sofa, away from him, and my dressing gown came up, so my bare bottom was facing right to his waist. I was trying to protest, but I was just powerless against him. His hands were all over my derriere's skin. He was kissing, and pushing with his tongue, and suddenly his tongue drove right against my bottom with a prod that showed what he meant.
"No, oh, no, Colin, not that!" I tried to protest, but I was right over the sofa back now, my head down and my legs up in the air and right out. I did not like it. I was trying to crawl right over and get away from Colin. Then his hands gripped my legs and pulled my body horizontally to him. I was quivering as I felt his great, stiff cock in my crotch yet once again, and I wriggled, trying to let him enter my slit and sink into me the natural way.
"Oh, no, you little bitch. I'm going to cornhole you right here and now. Might as well relax, just relax, Diana of the beautiful arse. Oh, what a beautiful little arse you have." Colin released one of my legs, and I felt him putting something about my hole, something greasy. And then his cock was pressing, and pressing, and pressing yet again. "Steady now; if you will just relax, it's fine and different. You got to be broken in to it all, Diana, you little whore, you cow, you bitch you!" He slapped my buttocks several times to each word he shouted at me. Both of his hands gripped my legs, jerking me massively back, wide apart, open to him, while his cock was like a stiff lance that rammed and rammed.
"Please, Colin, no. Please, oh, Colin."
"Relax! Let it go in."
"No, Colin. In my cunt, yes; there, no! Oh, Oh, Oh!"
"Lovely little arse, lovely arse, so smooth and round and perfect for this rod of mine. I shall give a push; just you relax and take it all the way in."
Colin had spread my legs so wide, my knees were on the top of the sofa back. But he held my ankles in, somehow, and then one of his hands suddenly changed position. It came to press down right on the bottom of my spine. My derriere opened right out and came open wide to meet his cock. I could not help myself from this move. His cock just rammed into me, opening my bottom wider and suddenly sliding right into me as if up the back of my spine.
"God! Colin-oh, oh, Colin!" I screamed as he screwed my body over and down and plunged with all of his brute force. I orgasmed and shuddered, all in the few harsh strokes of his great cock. I was unable to do anything. I thought my heart would fall out of my mouth, out onto the floral pattern of the sofa covers. Yet, it was a sexual thrill. It was shocking, and brutal, and hurt, but it was a thrill that I knew I had to experience some time or other.
Later, we were over the kitchen table when he took me that way again, and this time I did relax. I cannot say it pleasured me as much as straight-forward loving always did and always will, but it was an experience I had never heard about, ever before. So, I was learning all there was to learn, and truly at the hands of an expert.
A girl with a boy is in a curious position. Not just the sexual positions for fucking or being buggered, but emotionally there is a great battle going on within her. In many ways I hated Colin, and I hated the way he used and abused my body, crudely, wantonly, in every possible way he could think of. Yet, he still had some shocks for me which he was holding in reserve. Anyway, I remained in awe and admiration of his skills. I was sore now, both back and front. The whole week-end had developed into a sexual orgy that I had never, never dreamed possible. All the same, after a long warm bath, I felt better. Colin was staying the final night with me, and I was too raw to let him do anything more to me, so I thought.
Colin was lying on the bed, his cock up in the air as usual when I came in. He had been watching the television and was idly flicking his cock with his finger, making it sway and spring back at attention each time.
"Hello, Diana, mistress of mine. Come here," he ordered.
"Colin, I'm too sore," I protested, and wandered slowly past him.
"I just want to show you something new." Colin smiled.
"New?" I laughed, giggled more than laughed. "Is there anything more new?"
"You little ex-virgin, come and have a French lesson." He gripped my wrist and pulled me over him. We kissed and his hands came up to caress my body and slit, making me writhe.
"Kiss it. Go on, Michelle loved to kiss it." Colin told me.
"Kiss it?" I stared at him. "You mean-your cock?"
"Yes, get the idea? Michelle says it is wonderful. Go on, kiss it nice and gently; and don't bite, or you'll do me damage."
"I can't, Colin, really, I can't!" I insisted.
"Of course you can, you silly girl." Colin pushed my head down. I licked my lips as his red helmeted cock was right before my mouth. His hand pressed my head down until his cock touched my lips. It was strange, but all at once I accepted it. I slowly licked, then sucked and the lolly-pop was in my mouth, warm and moist, and I had to close my eyes. I seemed to be almost in a faint, for it was unbelievable that I was actually sucking Colin's great cock!
"Use your tongue-the tip of your tongue, on the top, press with your tongue. Oh, oh, you young bitch, use your tongue and swallow swallow, your tongue on the tip." Colin shouted at me as his body was writhing again in a sexual heat.
Suddenly, with a ripping noise, he tore open my nightgown and plunged his face into my fanny. His tongue was probing, but so softly and right on the tender button that I had thought too sore a few moments ago. I was unable to do anything but gasp, and his cock sank right into my mouth as my jaws opened. We were in an extraordinary position. This was the first time I had ever heard of soixante-neuf, and here I was being eaten, and sucking like an expert. I closed my eyes as the whole of my being seemed to be rotating on a red-hot spit that was boiling sexual passion right through my body-cunt to mouth and back again. I could feel myself flooding. Colin came with a gush that tore down into my throat and made me sit up with a fit of coughing. My fanny slit was smeared all over his face, and I came in the shock of the moment.
"Oh, you silly bitch. I've got to wash my face." Colin sat up, and hobbled off to the bathroom. I fell over, flat on my back, my legs wide open. Colin seemed back in a moment and without a word he pulled my body up, slid his still stiff cock into my vagina and was making me cry with joy and soreness all over again.
I knew everything. I was beaten and raped, and buggered and completed. But I was a woman. I was sobbing for the joy of it. Now I really knew what it was all about. In time I would become good and proficient. In time I would be able to please a man, and please myself properly at the same time. In a way, I am still grateful to Colin for that wild weekend. He certainly educated me out of the niggering and whispering class. I knew how to fuck, how to suck, and how to take it many ways. It was a condensed course in sexual enlightenment, but it was very, very thorough. I found out later Colin specialized in training up girls, often virginal when he first got his hands on them. His huge cock was enough to shock any virgin. And after a taste of that large piece of manhood, a girl was ready for the rest of the world!
Colin had been my first boy, and he had put me along the right road to becoming an orgy girl. I still recall every detail of our loving sessions, for I was so anxious to learn, and not to make too many mistakes. I felt it all with such an intensity. It is laughable now to realize what a priceless gift I simply threw at Colin's feet. But then, so did many another girl. Colin was a man no girl could stand against for long. He was too expert, too smooth. And he did have such a wonderful way with his cock. I think of Colin and that cock of his when I am with some older man who is unable to really excite me. At least I do have the full knowledge of what fucking should be, when done by a young and virile expert. The older men are nicer, gender, and always so lavish with their money. But they can never thrill a girl as her first lusty young stallion did. That is where Colin has won. He trained up so many girls. He accepted the tight work of their virginity, and trained them up to accept his huge cock, knowing they would remember it all for the rest of their lives. I was not Colin's first girl. But I was his for months and months; I could do nothing against him.
Colin liked to make love in the fields, in the summer time. We would drive out to some lonely place, and, lying down on the blanket or the raincoat he brought with him, I would slowly work my legs up and lock about him. Mainly I could stare up at the vast warm night and the far stars. There were moments when Colin was really loving me well, when I seemed to explode into some sexual world that elevated me right up, between and among those stars. Loving in the open was something I have always liked after that. It is not as warm, nor as comfortable as being in a bed with a man, but Colin could simply make the whole earth shake and stir for me in our times of complete ecstasy.
I pulled my head back and stared at Sir Peters. His cock was going soft. I could not make out if he had come, or was just simply going off to sleep.
"Here, Peters, here-wake up." I rotated my hips to feel his hard-on slowly returning to fuller strength. "Come on, finish, come on, hurry it up. I want to finish, you've got me good and hot now."
"Oh, I say, have I. Damned good. Let's get to the old beauty stroke now, shall we, what?" Peters chuckled and began humping on and on, slowly, like an old bull.
I needed another glass of champagne to help me enjoy this. It all got heavy and coarse, otherwise. I was an orgy-girl, and I had class. I needed the champagne to appreciate the loving efforts of this old goat trying to get his sexual orgasm to an end. Men can be brutes, I lay back and thought. There was a very brutal time, once in my life. I think it almost completely turned me off sex for ever.
I closed my eyes as I thought of it. The brute in the stables had been a nightmare of a time for me. I should have told the police and let them put him away for rape. But, there was always that nagging fear that the police might not believe me. I knew it was silly to think like that. But they might have felt I asked to be raped. Anyway, it was that event which had turned me off marriage. I never wanted to be tied up to any brute of a man permanently, not after that event. I would always be frightened that one day he might turn around and be nothing more than a filthy, sexually berserk animal. The memory of it made me shudder. I clung to the slowly gyrating shoulders of Sir Peters. Better an old steady, paying lover, than one like Thomas.
It was all of five years ago, when it happened. But within my mind, it was as clear as if it had occurred but yesterday.
CHAPTER TWO
A BRUTE IN THE STABLES
My sister, Trudy, was a very successful show-jumper. Trudy loved horses, and she had married a man who owned a considerable stable of them. Most of the horses were hunting hacks, but there were a few jumpers, and also there were two very beautiful race-horses who were, of course, the pride of the stable. Both won a lot of money, and Trudy loved them more than anything else in the world. I think she loved them more than she loved her own husband.
Anyway, my parents being away so much, I was always going over to the stables and helping groom the horses. There was a lot of excitement in the air when a race was due and one of our horses running. Everyone who cared about the thing would go to the track to see how our horses did. I did not always go, as it seemed to me to be a waste of time. Often, I just hung about the stables and listened to the races on the radio.
There was another person who never went to the races, and this was Thomas. Thomas was a vast man about six and a half feet tall, and very slow, with small beady eyes. He was a bit simple, really, and people treated him like a child. He had worked at the stables all of his life, and he was also a stud-groom, who attended to the breeding of mares with the stallions. He had a special bucket of lubrication, and would stand right by the mares rump, and steer the stallion's great cock into the mare's cunt. All the time he would be sloshing plenty of white lubrication onto the cock, so that the mare enjoyed the fucking. It was a dangerous job, as once in a while a mare was not in the mood to accept the stallion. In this case, the mare was likely to lash out with both her hind legs. Thomas had been severely kicked like that several times. But he always returned to the job, for he seemed to get some special kind of sexual kick out of getting the mare lined by that great stallion's cock.
I had watched the process many times, and Thomas's skill with a stallion's cock was very fascinating to see. He also quieted down a mare so that, mostly, he was not kicked by them. Thomas was of huge size and strength, and he could clean a stable out quicker than any machine ever invented. As I said, he was rather simple, and very useful, and little by little, one just got used to seeing him around all the time. I would have hardly noticed Thomas, had it not been for his special stud-grooming services. Sexually, these were very exciting, and Thomas was part of all of that. I had always thought Thomas a very odd kind of person, but I never felt he was dangerous. In fact, the idea of his lusting after me just simply never entered my head. Not until it was far too late.
One summer day I came drifting into the stables, idle and free. I had lost my latest boyfriend, for he had gone down to the South of France. In September, I was going up to university, and I was feeling happy about everything. The stables were deserted, as it was the day of a big race. And, in fact, we had both race horses entered. I felt that I had the whole place to myself. I was so used to the stables that I automatically walked along seeing that there was water and feed in every box, and that the place was clean. Not that it was ever dirty, as there were so many willing workers, and Thomas loved to clear any rubbish out.
I went over to my sister's house near the stable yard entrance and had some coffee, then came back and idly walked about again. I do not like to ride, as it makes me too hot. Perhaps that is why so many girls love riding, for the sexual thrills it brings to them by being bumped up and down on a saddle and having their fannies punished that way. I got too hot, and wet, and I preferred to save my passion for my man, or boyfriend of the moment.
It was hot when I came into one stable, the end of which opened into the hay-barn. I looked about, then slipped off my blouse, so I was only in my lacy bra. It was a lot cooler, and there was no one around, so I felt better and sat down to look at the sunshine outside. Then I heard this strange, groaning, grunting noise. It was so strange it frightened me, at first. I got up and stepped towards the door. If I had had a brain in my head I would have left and not gone back to investigate the noise. As it was, there seemed to be something, well, slightly sexual about the sound. It had a sexual rhythm. I went slowly back and peered into the hayloft, but could see nothing.
"Hello! Is there anyone here?" I called, unwisely.
There was no reply, and I glanced about. Then, as I turned round, I got one of the shocks of my life! Standing before me was Thomas! But he had his trousers opened and his cock was a massive red pole sticking right out in front of him. His eyes were glazed, his body was stiff, and his hands were out as if to grab at me.
"Thomas, Thomas, this is Diana!" I shouted at him, backing away slowly as I did so. "Thomas, you know me!"
He stepped forward, after me, pace by pace. His cock swayed like a red blunt lance before him as he advanced. His small piggy eyes were on me. I could feel a certain hysteria growing inside me. I knew I would start screaming in a moment. Thomas moved in the oddest way. I seem to be able to recall every particle of that scene as if it were etched with acid into my subconscious for ever and ever. That stiff, aware, zombie walk. As if something was driving his body forward step by step, after me! I was terror frozen; my voice went up to a thin shriek.
"Thomas! Thomas, it's Diana!" I ended in a high, shrill whisper. But I did manage to back away, going further into the large, gloomy hayroom. Here, shafts of sunlight cut down through the silent dusty air. But I could not take my eyes from staring at Thomas, for he was coming after ma in a weird, jerky walk. It was slowly paralyzing me with fear. That red staff, that huge cock of his, was all I seemed to be able to see. The advancing figure of burning rape was so terrorizing me, I felt myself getting weaker and weaker.
"Thomas, Thomas, this is Diana, and you must, must leave me alone. You must let me go out of here. You must leave me alone. I'll not tell them, Thomas. I promise! I won't say a word to anyone about this, but you must let me go now. Please. Thomas! You must let me go."
Thomas seemed to be clawing at his belly. His shirt fluttered wide open. His trousers were clawed back, wide too. I could see his red balls hanging below the quivering staff of his huge cock. It seemed he was wet, for the cock glistened as he stepped into a shaft of sunlight. I was hypnotized by it all. I could not believe it was happening to me! I was suddenly frightened for my life. He would seize me, rape me, and strangle me. I knew it! I was scared half to death. I felt certain he would kill me, either with those great hands of his, or with that huge rigid cock. Desperate, I glanced about. There was no escape. I had backed right into the blind alley of the hay shed. Somehow I had to deal with him.
"Thomas, I shall be nice to you. Thomas, I want you to love me." I stood quivering with fear.
Thomas paused in the shaft of sunlight, his piggy eyes blinking and blinking. One of his large hands clasped about the length of his cock, holding it out. And a wet grin was across his idiotic face. He was showing me what he had.
"That's good, Thomas, I can see how big it is! Yes I can see what a big man you are. Nice Thomas, I want you to enjoy it all. I want to let you love me, nice Thomas. What a wonderful great cock you have. I can-yes, I can kiss it for you." I swallowed hard as I said this. The idea revolted me, but I had to appease this lumbering rapine oaf some way, or else he would crudely rape and kill me. That I was certain of!
His shadow was a great black shape. Somehow the sunlight made the shadow even more phallic. He seemed to be holding a great rod of a thing that wobbled up and down. A crazy shadow in this crazy moment. I almost wet myself with fright at the sight of that shadow. It again brought the terror into me. When I looked up at Thomas he was a few feet away, staring at me, his arms wide and ready to grab me. I knew if I rushed, he would snap my neck like a twig. I had seen him kill a dog with a piece of wood. I knew the brute in the stables well enough! What a fool I had been to have so gaily walked into this nightmare. It was my own stupid fault! I dropped to my knees and held up my hands.
"Come along, Thomas." My voice quavered, but it reassured me to even hear it. "Come along and let me please you."
Thomas seemed even larger from the place I was kneeling. His cock slowly advanced closer and closer, and he held his brutish hands out to claw at me at any moment.
"Gently, Thomas, and you will be pleased!" I shouted it loudly at him, making him blink and stop.
"Urrgh! Errugh!" Thomas nodded, saliva dribbling from his mouth. One of his paws held his cock out.
Closing my eyes, I bent forward and felt the huge piece of flesh. I tried thinking of Colin, or of a great ice-cream. I opened my mouth and pressed with my tongue; at the same time my hands held about his staff, and my fingers tickled his balls. Like a clamp, one of his hands came down onto the back of my head, almost making me choke. But my tongue was revolving quickly, and I knew the point where Thomas was weakest, so I gnawed suddenly and my whole mouth seemed wide open, filled with his helmet.
"Aaah! Errughh! Oooaaah!" Thomas was crooning. "Eeeyahh! Uggh! Ooooaaah!" His voice was not threatening now. This gave me a sudden hope, and I worked my mouth furiously about, gnawing, nipping, and sucking. I knew no man could hold against this for very long. Thomas was already quivering and shaking from side to side. I opened my eyes and looked up at the great body before me. His hair was a black bush, and his head was right back as he swayed in the pleasures I was giving him. I bit quite hard, but Thomas was crooning away and hardly seemed to do more than give another crude, animal gurgle.
"Errugh! Oh, wonner, wonnerful. Oooh Good, goood!" He was at least speaking words now.
Suddenly his great hand pushed me back. I tumbled over onto the straw. Looking quickly about I saw Thomas standing there. His cock was spurting his sperm out. It went in three great jerks, streaming into the sunlight, glistening like a silver arc from the tip of his pulsating cock.
"See-ahahaha! See, come, see, come! Aahaha! A job, eerh. A job, see. Aahah!" Thomas suddenly moved.
Before I could scramble free he was on me. He picked me up, and laughed as he dragged me further into the straw. Here he had a bucket, full of the stallion's lubrication he used when studding a mare. He flung me down on the straw, grinned, and pawed up some of the white gizz, smearing it over his still stiff cock.
"Fuck, ehh, yea, fuck, uuurggh!" His piggy eyes glistened insanely. "You better than yer sister, erahh. Aahaha!" He suddenly reached down and ripped all of my clothes off. In one move he was kneeling in the straw and pulling me onto his huge cock. "Better than 'er, errrh. I fucks 'er. Many times I fucks 'er. Errh. Uggh. She got it hot. Loves it hot. Up the arse too. Fuck up the arse, Trudy does."
The shock of what the brute in the stables was saying made me go all limp! This-with my own sister. I stared at him, and gave a light scream. "Trudy?" I stared wildly at him. "Ahhah, her man no good. I fucks her. Loves my cock. I want you, I does, I wants you. I fucks you. You suck good. Take it up the arse like Trudy do, eh, eh aaah!" He had his claws under my knees and drew me up to him. I was suddenly rammed by the largest cock I had ever been touched by. It was at least two inches thick, and he drove it into my body fiercely.
Lying back, I writhed in agony. It was splitting me. I could have screamed and screamed. But he was splitting me wide open. I knew it as he lunged right in and the pressure of his cock came right up to my throat as if to choke me. Trudy, my sister, took this? I was half stunned, still! And that thought saved me from going insane as he drove in and raped me in a brutish, harsh, and floundering way. I was sprayed with straw chaff. I was half choked by his weight. The agony of that huge cock seemed to be tearing my body wider than ever it could possibly go. And each time he stroked it, the jolt of the top of the cock striking the end of my vagina made my head flick right back. It was a horse that was fucking me. I knew it. He was going at me as if he was a stallion. Even as I thought this, he scooped up more of the white lubrication and slapped it down between our surging bodies.
"I fuck good! I fuck good. I fuck good. Trudy like me fuck." He was babbling away like the idiot he was. A hulk of a man with the brain of a four year old child, if that! "I fuck good. Trudy say so. We fuck always here. I want to fuck you many time. Now I fuck you good." The idiot babbled on and on.
I think I must have fainted from the pain. For, the next thing I knew was that Thomas had given several animal grunts and had collapsed in a heap beside me on the straw. His whole being reeked of sweat. I lay there, numb from my waist down. I was certain he had torn me apart. My legs tingled as circulation very slowly came back into them. I sat up and my body ached all over. I was a mess. A heavy snore came from the exhausted animal beside me. I crawled from him, carefully at first. Then, getting to my feet, I staggered across the hay-barn, out into the stables. I sobbed for breath as I went.
Reaching the open area, I was surprised to see such a beautiful, brilliantly sunlit day. It had not seemed possible all the outside world could be going on as usual while I was being raped by that brute in the stables. I clutched my dress about me, and got to my small car. All the way home I drove, quivering with shock and fear. It was a bath and medication I needed. I felt sick, and old, and useless. But soaking in a hot medical bath, in the silence of our empty home, I gradually felt better. I crawled into my bed, and slept exhausted. I awoke twice, in terror, but each time everything was quiet and still. It was two days before I came out into the world again.
My doctor sent me to see a specialist who did a small surgery on me. He advised me to be careful, and certainly not to have any intercourse for several weeks at least. My doctor also wanted to send me to a psychiatrist, to draw out what had happened. I had had enough. I knew what had happened well enough. My sweet, horse-riding champion elder sister had a semi-idiot stud of her own in her stables. I knew it well enough; that was for certain! I felt a wild rage at her and her ox-man! In a way, Trudy had laid the trap for me. I bet she already knew Thomas had raped me. I was sickened and yet enraged. I was determined to get my vengeance, on both of them.
Trudy spoke to me several times on the telephone. There was a new, curious note in her voice. This was what told me she knew. I did not make a single mention of it, even when Trudy steered the conversation directly around to what a marvelous worker, and a huge man, her Thomas was. I knew what she was talking about. The sweet sister of mine must be cock crazy to allow a brute like that to ravish her, and regularly too. What Colin said about horse-riding women was true. They get so great a pounding on their buttocks, they need a crude brute like Thomas around just to satisfy them. From that moment on, I could never meet any horsey types without a feeling of utter revulsion for them. It had always been within me, this dislike of that type, but now it was crystal clear to me, and I had a jolly good reason for my hatred of them.
Trudy mentioned that her husband was taking one of the race horses off to Hastings for the week, and that she would be on her own. It was kind of an invitation to come over and stay with her. But this time I declined. The thought of going near the stables, and Thomas, made a chill crawl right up my spine. Then I had second thoughts.
Yes, I would go over, but on Sunday. I told Trudy that, and it would leave her several days with just her and her sweet, innocent, idiot rapist Thomas, to enjoy each other's company. I was certain she never let that smelly brute into the house. He would soil all the bed linen with his smell of horse-dung and stallion cock lubricant. Her husband might be under-sexed and horseblind, but even he would smell that Thomas had been in their bed. No, Trudy would go with Thomas in the stables, probably even in the hay shed. Perhaps on that very spot where he had thrust that filthy large thing into me. I felt my whole gut simply contract with the memory of that agonizing moment. It was enough to put a girl off men for life. I knew that I would have to fight that emotion. A rape is no joke. I would have to find some great emotional balance in order to be able to fight what had happened to me. I did not wish to turn into some lesbian bastard character. Hell, that was easy enough to do, after the coarse fucking that brute in the stables had given me. Enough to make a girl scream from the very slightest touch of a man's finger, let alone ever let him make love to her again.
First, I would have to find some answer to my emotional upset. I would have to see if I could cohabit with men ever again. That was important. Yet, the thought of living with a man permanently, or of ever marrying a man, was disgusting to me in the extreme. I was fighting something I almost could not control. But I have always been a girl with a very strong will power. I would revenge myself on sweet Trudy, and hulking Thomas. Then I would see about getting myself into some kind of condition in order to be able to face life again.
Looking back to that time, I feel sure I was acting completely irrationally. I would not have behaved the way I did had I not had such a great shock at the moment of the rape! But in many ways I also blamed Trudy. I felt certain she knew. I also felt certain she might have told him to rape me-not necessarily rape me, but to make love to me. Trudy might have thought it a joke, or as some kind of shock I needed. I knew she was always jealous of me. I was prettier, chased after, easier going. Trudy hated me enough to do something like that. But I feel certain she never expected Thomas to be in such a condition of heat as to actually rape me the way he did. But I had then a hatred of Trudy which was only equalled by my hatred of the brute himself.
I began plotting my revenge on the pair of them with great deliberation. At first it made me feel sick even to contemplate. But the idea burned and burned in me. I would catch them both together, and deal with them both at the same time. I was ice-cold in anger about it all. But my determination was pretty close to an insanity. Looking back, I see I was very nearly mad from that rape. There is no other way of accounting for what I did to the pair.
It was in the evening of a bright summer day. All the stable staff went home at six o'clock, leaving Thomas alone. Trudy was also there, in her chintzy house. I figured out that she would most likely bring Thomas his evening meal down in the stables, and stay for some coarse fornication afterwards. My sister was broad-hipped, not ugly, but not pretty either, just a typical show-horse woman. Why she had chosen to marry a dried up man twenty-five years her senior I could not guess. But the thought of her and Thomas in sexual liaison had never occurred to me. It was impossible, to my way of thinking. All I could find as an excuse was that perhaps Trudy had spent all of her life among animals, and she accepted Thomas as part of her known world.
I waited in my car behind the stables. Thomas had finished his daily cleaning route. He lived in the end stable, the one right next door to the hay-loft. He seemed to prefer to have his meals, and rest, and raping activities in the larger haystore. Through a gap, unseen, I watched Thomas amble slowly into the hay-store, leaving the top door open. I would not have to wait long now!
Trudy came a few minutes later. She was carrying a supper pail, and over her other arm she seemed to have some kind of a house-coat.
"Thomas, supper, my lad," she called in-her manly voice.
His gross, mumbling tones echoed back. Trudy swung into the hay-shed entrance, out of my sight.
I moved from my small car, going quickly right around the stables. I knew where there was a way in, high up, and by going through the loft, I could get into the top of the hay-store and see all that was going on down beneath me. I had to be quick, and as quiet as possible. I brought my equipment with me.
In a way it was insanely, breathlessly exciting. I was feeling hot and ice-cold, all at the same time. It was a traumatic place for me, and I had to keep fighting the instinct I had to turn and flee the spot forever. But I was determined, and I knew that I would never be able to forgive myself if I did not go through with what I had planned. So I found it all intensely exciting, and I really would not have missed it for the world!
"Here you are, my lad, eat it all up. Plenty of it." Trudy was half-shouting at her moronic lover. He looked up at her with piggy eyes and was already slobbering the food down his great throat. "Got to keep you good and strong, my boy. Challais did well, winning last week, but I think we can get better time out of him yet. He's nervous and needs a lot of petting, good horse." Trudy stood not far from where Thomas was eating. He sat on an upturned feed box, and was ignoring her, as if she was the servant and he was the master. I could see from my high vantage point that Thomas had a faint contempt for my sister. It astonished me again. This slow-witted, over-blown brute was nothing. He could not even ride a horse. Yet here was my sister fussing about, and preparing herself for something strange.
Trudy went across to the side of the hay-shed and unbuttoned her blouse. She wore no bras, so her large melon breasts popped out fully, swaying as she bent to strip down her riding breeches. She got herself naked from the waist down, then turned and swayed slowly over to where Thomas sat devouring the entire contents of the food bucket.
"I am ready for you, Thomas."
"Erruggh!" was his full-mouthed reply. Thomas ignored her as he stuffed the last of the food into his mouth.
"I shall put our special coat on," Trudy told him. "You always like me to be in that."
My sister took off her opened white blouse and walked naked to the bundle of clothes she had brought with her. Now she put on her housecoat. It was red, and seemed to have been torn and stained a few times. The housecoat wrapped about her completely, leaving only her naked feet showing beneath the hem. Trudy tossed her hair free of the collar; then she slowly pranced about in the hay-shed as if trying to imitate a horse.
Slowly, Thomas finished eating. He' drank from a metal cup, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The air in the shed seemed to have suddenly become very hot. It was spicy with a scent of hay, and a strange scent of sexual heat. I could understand why these two coarse lovers kept their rustic, rapine trysts here. The place reeked of copulation! Thomas stood up and scratched his belly. He slowly walked over to where my sister was waiting for him.
"Oh, Thomas!" Trudy half-screamed, half-shouted. He had grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over. His hands were pawing the red cloth, grabbing through it, lifting her up bodily and playing with her as if she were a girl doll.
Suddenly, he half-dragged her over to the straw and flung her down. As Trudy sobbed for breath, Thomas took off his clothes in a series of fumbling movements. That immense red cock was sticking out once again. I shuddered, felt myself going moist at the sight of that bizarre object. Thomas pushed his cock forward, then leaned over and dragged Trudy to face his monstrous weapon, holding her again by her hair.
"You suck! Errgh." He bawled at her.
"No, no, it makes me sick," Trudy screamed. "Where did you get such a filthy idea, Thomas?"
"You suck, or fuck," Thomas chuckled. His belly heaving in and out made his penis sway like a stiff rod in a wind.
Trudy fought against him. I was surprised the way she stood up and wrestled against his giant arm. But there was a tearing sound as the red housecoat got torn again. Half naked now, Trudy slapped furiously at his face.
"You did it to my sister." Trudy suddenly screamed.
"She-she suck good. She suck me good!" Thomas protested mildly as he warded off the feeble slaps my sister was aiming at him. Then he suddenly grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back. His other hand ripped open the housecoat and his slobbering mouth was suckling her nipples. He slurped and licked and pulled her higher and higher, lifting her right off her feet, burying his face between those enormous wobbling breasts.
"You're hurting me. Stop it! Stop it, Thomas.
You're hurting me. No biting, not a bite. Aaaah." My sister locked her naked legs about the sweating giant. She dug her hands into his hair and clawed away furiously. "Stop it, you will bite them off! Aaah. You swine. You'll make them bleed again." She wrenched at his idiot's head with all of her strength.
Then Thomas let her drop, suddenly. Trudy fell back, right onto the straw, her legs wide open showing a wet gash between her legs that seemed almost to be smoking with heat. Trudy spun off the straw before her idiot lover could grab her. She laughed and leaped about him, the ends of her red housecoat dragging behind her.
"You filthy bastard! You girl raper. You fucked her! Didn't you? You fucked Diana!" Trudy screamed at him. "Admit it, admit you forced her. I know you did because you had no strength left for me! You unfaithful swine, you! You dirty, unfaithful brute. After all I've given you, you give it to that bitch! I hate you, you idiot fool!"
"She suck good. She suck me urrrgh!" Thomas was waving his great cock at her in an invitation.
"Filthy, filthy great brute." Trudy grabbed hold of a stable broom and swung at Thomas. It cracked him on the arm, but at the second sweep he grasped the end. Instantly he pulled Trudy to him.
"Let me go. Let me go you unfaithful bastard!" Trudy shrieked and slapped and strug gled. "Don't you touch me. Don't you put that filthy thing into me."
As they fought, Thomas picked her up. Trudy opened her legs again to lock them about Thomas-or to kick him. But, suddenly, Thomas thrust her down, at the same time planting one hand on her buttocks. Trudy was impaled right onto the great cock. It seared into her. The whole shaft simply slurping right into her writhing, descending body, as Thomas brought her to him and onto his wrist-thick cock.
"Aaaah, oggh? Oh, my God! Oh, oh, my God! Aaaaah! My God!" Her voice shrieked as she was impaled. Trudy simply seemed to fall to pieces the moment he entered her.
"Urrgh, urggh urggh!" Thomas was swaying her back and forth, his cock slurping a foot into her plump body. "Uurgh, urrgh, urrgh!" His animalistic grunts accompanied the sweating, swaying surging of that cock in her wet cunt.
"My God!" Trudy gasped!
Her arms fell limply down from her body. Her legs kicked out automatically as he stroked into her, then dropped down as he came out. He was standing, swaying her to and fro, holding her up so that she ran right onto the full, enormous length of that thick cock. It was going so far into her I could see my sister's head quiver and shake, as if the thick blunt red wet helmet of that cock was smashing into the very base of her brain itself! I could see Trudy's hands clasp and unclasp, shaking like leaves in the passionate tu mult that this sexual attack was arousing in her. My sister was in some hellish world of flesh and come and animal loving. Beneath her stiff body swayed the rags of the red housecoat, Trudy was lost in this primitive work of orgiastic passion.
"Urrgh! Errh! Urrgh!" Thomas suddenly hugged Trudy to him. He was kind of leaping up and down with her body locked to his. They rose and came down with a thump, each time Trudy's head shot back and her mouth went wide open. Each thump was an explosive orgasm of Thomas releasing his sperm right up into her white body.
"Oh, oh-I can't," Trudy said suddenly in a shrill voice. "Let me down, let me down!"
They both sagged right over, and went sprawling down onto the straw of the flooring. Thomas was still writhing into her, her shoulders down in the straw and her legs almost tucked up beneath his arms. A few times her legs flicked out feebly. But Trudy was out. Her body could not take any more of this animal passion. Her hands came up and, curiously enough, stroked Thomas's shoulders gently, then drew him down to rest beside her.
"You, eerh-fuck good," Thomas slobbered out as he collapsed beside her. His face muzzled down between her great white breasts again, where he kissed and licked and rubbed steadily.
"Better than Diana?" Trudy whispered hoarsly. "Better-much, much better, you beast." Her legs limply lay open. Trudy was so exhausted she could not even keep her arms about his neck. Her arms slipped onto the straw and they lay there, hot, completed, finished in a scent of sexual sweat and come.
I was in such a daze myself, from having watched this performance, I could not move. The exhaustion of these animal-like lovers was also my exhaustion. I seemed to have orgasmed at the same moment they did. It was the heat, the scent, the sounds of their rapine lusts. I lay there staring down at them, and was exhausted, wet, and confused by it all.
I had to go back the way I had entered. It was dark as I walked carefully down the line of stables and entered the hay-loft shed. I moved so quietly no one heard me. I knew where the light switch was, and with my free hand I flicked the lights on. The great glare of white light blinded me for a moment. Then I saw them there, still lying in their crude nakedness, half locked together. Trudy had her hand on that risen cock again. She had been slowly stroking it back to full length and life in the hot, scented dark of their intimacy. Trudy gave a gasp, lifting her head to stare at me. Thomas slowly moved his shoulders so that his head came around and his piggy eyes blinked in the powerful light.
"Diana! Get out of here!" Trudy spoke hoarsely.
"So, the lovers." I chuckled and cracked my whip. It was a cattle-whip from America. It sang and the crack echoed like thunder. Thomas started, then slowly took Trudy's hand off his cock as he stood up.
"Errh, what you want, Diana?" he mumbled sheepishly. His cock was stuck out, as if jeering at me.
"Get out of here. You've no right! No right at all. He is my man!" Trudy announced angrily.
Suddenly Thomas started to lumber slowly towards me. I cracked out the whip, it stung him. The only result was a stupid grin on his idiotic face. Instantly I realized that the whip would not stop him. I backed away, and prepared to lash again. Then I had a bright idea.
"Stop there, or I shall lash Trudy," I screamed at him.
"No-it'll scar me." Trudy scrambled to her feet.
Thomas paused, peering back at my sister, then at me, uncertain as to what to do. The whip was raised ready to give Trudy a full cut across her naked flesh. I meant it too, Trudy knew this from the look on my face.
"Tom, don't move. Diana-what is it you want?" Her voice wobbled badly, but Trudy made an effort to calm herself. "He never meant to attack you. The other day, that was your fault, you should not have teased him by being naked here."
"He raped me! You know it, I know it, and your pet animal knows it." I shouted angrily at her. For a moment I felt like lashing them both furiously. Then I saw the stiff erection Thomas had, and I changed my mind.
"Here-up to the beam there, both of his hands." I tossed her the handcuffs I had brought with me.
"What are you going to do?" Trudy demanded.
I cracked the whip. This time it made even tough Thomas flinch. Trudy hastily picked up the handcuffs.
"Come along, Tom, might as well do what the bitch says." Trudy waited as he came to her. She handcuffed him to the beam so he was upright, still with that great cock flopping out right before the hairy black nest at the bottom of his naked belly. "There, now what do you want?" Trudy glared at me furiously.
I cracked the whip. The tip flashed past her and her whole white body simply quivered in fright. "Suck it-get down on your knees and suck it!" I screamed at her.
"Suck-no! Oh, no, no, I couldn't," Trudy pointedly protested.
"Down and suck." I cracked the whip again. This time the tip singed her buttocks. Trudy gave a short scream. "Suck, get down and suck as I had to. Go on, fill your mouth with his cock. Get down and do it, or I shall lash you for life." Trudy was in tears, she stumbled down onto one knee. Closing her eyes she opened her mouth and fished about. "Get hold of it and suck it!" I cracked the whip to emphasize my words. "Go on, suck, you bitch, suck for all you're worth!
Like I had to-and he still raped me, after that!"
"I didn't mean him to. I thought, I thought you might enjoy...."
"Get on with it-suck, Trudy, or else!" I slammed the whip. It cracked furiously. "Suck and you will find out what I had to do. Suck and swallow."
Trudy closed her eyes as the prick touched her lips. She gagged and slowly managed to get some of the helmet into her mouth. At the right moment I brought the whip back, and cracked it close to Thomas. His involuntary thrust forward sent his cock right into Trudy's mouth. She choked and gulped. Thomas grinned and started swaying so that her head was bobbing busily. Thomas was enjoying all of this immensely. But when my whip struck him close to the thighs, he shot right off. He gasped in pain and came in the single spurt. Trudy almost went backwards from the shock of his surge.
I cracked the whip all about them. I had the hold on the terror of it all now. And I gave it to them. Trudy had to suck and suck. Thomas groaned and moaned, for he was unable to hold back against it all. The whip, the heat, the sweat and the come swirled into a blazing fury of sexual expansion. Trudy was sick, and sucking, and sick again. Thomas was sagging from the handcuffs by the time I was feeling it all well worth the while.
It was a good vengeance. Trudy was almost fainting, and complaining how much her jaws ached. Thomas was quivering from some kind of sexual exhaustion he had never experienced before. My dear sister's mouth had sapped him of his manhood for some time to come. I struck him a couple of times, but it was useless. The idiot had no sense, and where there was no sense, there certainly was precious little feeling. It was like lashing at a blubber bag.
"I've finished with you both. Now you can both go to hell, as far as I am concerned. Filthy beasts!"
So saying I tried to storm out, but I was also too weak. The whole sexual experience had been revolting, and thrilling, disgusting and intensely exciting. I seemed to have come myself, dozens of times. I was so weak, I almost collapsed into my small car, and was just barely able to drive away. One thing, I left for good. I would never again see either my sister or those stables. Thomas I certainly had no terror of now!
So I had my vengeance. And, after a good soaking in a hot bath, I suddenly laughed at it all. I had restored my own confidence. I was my own being again. Life was coarse, and animal and crude. That was how we human animals were designed. For fucking, I said aloud. If that was all there was to it, then I was free to indulge and enjoy. One thing for cetrain, I would never have any inhibitions about anything sexual ever again.
No, most certainly not! Be it a blow job, or buggery, or an orgy. I would be there with the best of them. At the age of eighteen I knew it all. If that was how the world saw sexual matters, then that was how I had to be. I shuddered once or twice, but I still smiled. I had been through the hottest of hot flames, and now I was casehardened. I could even make a damned good living out of it.
And the more I thought about the idea, the more it appealed to me. Lying in my bath, getting rid of the smells of the stables and the orgies of the evening, I knew what I had to do.
No good going to the university, to meet a crowd of callow, foppish youths. No, I would use my money to go to London, and see what this great big world was really all about! Did not I already possess the best qualifications in the world for success? Here, between my legs was a passport and a diploma and a degree to the wide world itself. All I had to do was to look after myself carefully, and to determine just what I wanted out of life.
Once a girl makes a decision like that, the rest follows as if by nature meant.
CHAPTER THREE
THE ORGY PARTY AT WOODLANDS
Sir Peters was snoring gently. I felt I was all wet, all down between my thighs. It had been a slow, but passionate loving. In his gentle way, Peters was very good for me. I preferred an older man, like him, who was gentle, and considered the girl in each and every move he made. The lusty virility of younger men is not every girl's desire. I slipped carefully from Peters, making sure I did not disturb his sleep.
I took another glass of champagne with me as I headed for the palatial bathroom. The sounds of the orgy were still clearly coming from the other room. I could hear some girl, perhaps it was Yolanda I thought, gasping out in her passionate moment-"Oh yes! Ah, oh yes!" Yolanda always went off into her many orgasms that way. I smiled to myself and took the refilled glass of champagne into the bathroom. A shower, and a clean towel about me, and I would be ready for a short rest before the next session. Life is very interesting, at times.
As I showered, I tried to remember how I came to be an orgy girl. It seemed ages and ages ago, yet it was, yes-four and a half years since that party at Woodlands Hall. That was my first encounter with Sir Peters and this Knightsbridge set of orgy lovers and orgy seekers and orgy makers. The Knightsbridge Hounds as they loved to call themselves! I laughed and rested my head back so the hot shower came cascading down the front of my throat, over my shoulders, onto my glistening tight breasts. I had a sexy body. I was all for sex. Well broken in, as they say. A true orgy girl.
"Hey there-Orgy Girl!" I sang to myself. "No cock too big and no cock too small. Have them once, and you have them all the time you naughty orgy girl!" It was indeed a long time ago, that orgy party at Woodlands Hall. We had come a long way since then, dear!
One Friday afternoon Desmond had rung me up. Desmond was a bore. He was tall, stiff, and rather brutal in his love demands. About the only thing original concerning Desmond was his habit of wearing spurs in his bedroom. They tore the sheets up terribly, but made a nice jingling sound when he was on his full, fast, loving strokes. It was an odd fetish. I had heard about it from his previous girl-friend, Barbara. Bar bara had passed Desmond on to me when she made a mad decision and went off and married a fat rich stock broker. I went with Desmond mainly to find out if it was true about the spurs in bed. It was, much to my amusement. But Desmond was inclined to thrust home, grunt a few times, even slap out his hands if he was too excited, and then come and the session would be over. I never heard his passionate spurs give more than a few jingle jangles before his cock let them down to rest.
"I say, old girl," Desmond began. Everything between fifteen and fifty was 'old girl' to Desmond. "I say, actually I am going for a jaunt out in the greenery, a spot called Woodlands Hall, this evening. Be a bit of a jolly party, what. Care to come along?"
I listened to his fruity Oxford accent and wondered what he meant by a jolly party. Desmond either got rough, or else drank himself into oblivion and snored all night. The spurs were a passing item. They had made Desmond sound much more interesting than he really was. I was not terribly interested in going to the party. "I think I have a headache coming on, Desmond." I explained.
"Dash it all, old girl, be a jolly good orgy. Lots of the kooks coming--good bid Knightsbridge Hounds and Harriers, and all that rot. Be a spiffing good time, eh, what! You really ought to, you know, just to beer-well, kind of sporty, what?"
"An orgy?" I laughed. "You mean, a real orgy, Desmond?"
"Yes, rather. Girls in the dark, hunt the fanny, Yanks call it Hunt the Pussy-thimble stuck up the old what-is-it, eh, ahahaha. Jolly good dirty jumping fun, I should say so!"
"Hunt the Pussy? What kind of a game is that?" I smothered my laughter.
"Actually it's a really dashed good show. Lots of gals, and lots of fellers, and no inhibits nothing allowed in the way of hang ups. Have who you like-when you like. Must conform to orgy rules, but dashed good show, Diana. Our kind of people and all that tommy-rot! How about journeying with me, old girl-starts at noon on Saturday. Be dashed good-and you might win a silver thimble or two, if some feller's what's-it doesn't shove it out the way. Haw-hawhaw."
"Desmond, you're being obscene." I told him sharply. I was eighteen and a half, and still slightly a prude. For all that the brute in the stables had changed me, I still had certain decorums I insisted upon. But, the orgy was something new. It did sound much more in my line. I had heard of these occasional country seat parties,' and the way they at times deteriorated, or developed-depending upon ones point of view. "Where is Woodlands Hall?" I asked softly.
"Ahah! Good gal! We shall leave at five and be there about ten tonight. It's a dashed long way, right the wild side of Wiltshire, way past Old Sarum and Stone Henge. Jolly spooky country, old girl, and ideal for good orgies. Haw-hawhaw! I shall collect you at five thirty, and, old girl, please don't be late, as we have a hell of a long drive."
"I shall be ready, Desmond."
That was how I came to be at the great orgy held at Woodlands Hall one late September weekend. The first evening, I thought the whole story about there being an orgy here at Woodlands Hall was some kind of a joke. Certainly, that Friday night and Saturday morning there was not the slightest sign that anything untoward was going to happen. It was just a large house party, with warm and friendly guests. But, come to think of it there did seem to be rather a gathering of the wilder Mayfair girls there. And many of the young men were from the Guards, or else Whites Club, places where young rogues notoriously hang out.
We arrived about eleven at night. The house was a large Edwardian-style building, a rich home built by a wealthy company director in the days of plenty of servants and plenty of space for the rich. I was shown to a nice small bedroom which I was to share with another girl. There was a hot buffet running for the late arrivals. People seemed to be coming from all parts of England. The party was to officially commence at mid-day on Saturday, and this, evening apparently was a subdued meeting and acknowledging of people, so that by the time the party did start we would know each other very well.
Desmond was engaged in a great series of trout fly-fishing arguments and in the middle of the night he went with a couple of other young enthusiasts to test out theories on the river that ran through part of the spacious grounds. I was pleased to see him go. It gave me a chance to circulate, and I soon had a small retinue of eager admirers. All of them wistfully asked if I was staying after Saturday mid-day, which I quickly gathered was the deadline for the innocent to escape. I replied that I was staying as long as possible and hoped to make their warm acquaintanceship later over the course of this hot weekend. They gladly responded and I soon began to feel that if all of the young men I had encountered here at Woodlands Hall came to make a claim on me, I was in for a very, very exhausting time. But I still did not think the orgy would really ever materialize. It was some kind of a coarse joke that Desmond had invented in order to get me to come down here with him. Anyway, there were about thirty other very pretty, keen young girls. I did notice that nearly all of them seemed to have plenty of spirit, one might call it the glint of a demon in their eye. I was surprised when one girl told me I had it too. In general there did seem to be a gradually rising fever of anticipation in the Hall as the hours ticked away. I was pleased to leave a note for my Desmond, then escape to bed, where I slept until nine the next morning.
Woodlands Hall was in a breath-takinglybeautiful part of the county. It was with a great sweep of land that went to a broad free river. The house itself seemed vast in the September sunlight, and now it seemed to be really packed with people. More and more were arriving and I was not surprised to hear the figure of some three hundred guests mentioned by one of the retinue of servants that seemed to be everywhere waiting on us.
Desmond had gone out early on more trout fishing. It was the sort of thing he would do. I wandered about and met several other girls, who seemed to have arrived without an escort. There was a lot of fluttery laughter and chatter going on. The glorious September weather meant that people were strolling down through the terraces to the park and the woods beyond. I put on a summer hat and went down towards the river. I had a stray hope I might not find Desmond. Breakfast was being served on the terrace and knots of people were everywhere. Piped music was playing and the whole thing did seem as sedate and proper as a vicar's tea-party. I was walking along the river bank when a small boat came sculling along and in it, with two young men, was Desmond.
"I say old gal, fun doesn't begin until twelve. Have a good night?" He called to me. "This is Archie, and this is Henry. They've both admired you from a distance. See you later-watch out for the mid-day gun, old girl. Haw-haw-haw."
The small boat pulled on along the river in search of the elusive trout.
Holding my large hat I sat down beneath a tree. A cool breeze played and there was the sound of subdued laughter coming from the terrace. A trickle of people were leaving, I noticed. Mainly elderly people, old ladies being helped to their limousines. The trickle faded away, and a waiting air slowly came, bringing with it a quiet expectancy. As I sat there, several deer wandered out of a wood, stopped and looked towards the house. They were almost tame. There was a loud boom. It must be he mid-day gun Desmond had mentioned. The deer shot back into the woods, frightened by the noise. From the terrace came a scream, then a lot of light laughter, a distant cheering seemed to echo in the air. Certainly the atmosphere changed very quickly from then on.
"I say, Dora! Dora, don't run like that." A young man came out of the sunlight and called to a girl. She was standing closer to the woods. Ignoring me, the young man hurried over to her. The girl stood there in an odd, resigned way. The young man held Dora, and his hands seemed to vanish up beneath her miniskirt. As she sank down in the shade of the trees, I could see with a shock that she wore nothing beneath her miniskirt. The young man was already opening his trousers as her legs lifted about his waist. My mouth was open with astonishment. Loving like that! In the full sight of everyone. I was com pletely baffled. I could see the young man hastily moving over the girl, and her voice came in a sighing laugh that ended in a catch of breath as they really went together faster and faster.
I rose to my feet and felt breathless myself. It was a sight I had not been expecting. I was excited and knew I was blushing furiously. I walked across and came to the rose-garden terrace. There was a couple sitting awkwardly on the green wooden bench. Both glanced at me as I came along. The young man I thought I knew. But it was the way they were sitting which bemused me. The girl seemed to be facing the man, astride him somehow, with her legs on either side of him, and her hands about his waist.
"I say-Diana! Desmond was looking for you. I'm sorry, I still have my hat on, excuse me. I am Henry, the chappie in the boat with Desmond, this morning, after the dashed trout, you know." Henry half lifted the girl from him as he spoke to me. He was trying to remove his hat as he introduced himself. There was a wet slurping noise as the girl came off his lap. Henry had his cock stuck straight out, moist and gleaming "Here, Jill, you better get back on this. Excuse us, Diana, see you later." Henry flushed and grabbed at his Jill.
He pulled the girl back into her previous position and his hands fiddled beneath her dress until both were rocking together again. Henry obviously had his cock back in the girl's cunt again, and they both became oblivious of me as I stared at them. The girl was dropping her head lower and lower, panting as Henry began to move her closer to him. Henry was very busy, so I went on, up the steps to the terrace. Here, I was in for another shock!
The terrace was completely deserted. The row of tables with all the food was still there. I took a plate and helped myself to bacon, and some broiled salmon. I also had a small cup of coffee. I sat down on a stone bench seat. As I slowly nibbled at different bits and pieces, I wondered where the three hundred guests had so suddenly disappeared to. Perhaps they were like that young couple-had dashed for the woods and a first orgiastic burst of sexual release. Or else they were more like the sedate and polite Henry, sitting around with their Jills well embedded on their cocks! Certainly, nothing more would surprise me, that I vowed to myself.
Then I heard the tingling-jingling of spurs going faster and faster. There was only one person who performed that way. Close to me, Desmond must be on his orgasm, and I wondered what kind of a girl he was riding to victory with this time. Peeping over the terrace, I could see Desmond's legs protruding from a couple of shaped yews. The yews were trimmed into green birds, which were quivering from the vibrations of the lovers beneath them. Come to that, the whole place seemed to be humming with fornicatory activity.
I sat and ate my lunch quietly. In a way, I was lucky to have avoided the first onslaught of pent-up lusts. I felt that I would have to be careful. One thing I was most certain of, that my moment would come. I smiled and went to get myself a second cup of coffee. From the green yews, the spurs were jingling again. Desmond seemed to have found an exciting and virile partner down there!
"Hello, beautiful," he said as I was pouring myself a second cup of coffee. "I am Samuel. Care for cream and sugar?"
"Thank you." I looked up at him. Sam was nice. He was tall, and bright. His face was bronzed as if he had been to the Caribbean only recently. "One spoon of sugar, please," I told him quietly. For I was feeling very timid and aware at this wild moment.
"One spoon of sugar it is!" Sam smiled.
"I am Diana," I told him as he helped himself to a cup of coffee.
"Diana and Sam-good! We make a couple. It seems to be a very deserted place, today." He glanced at me with a great smile. I loved him for the smile. "If one doesn't look too closely into things, eh. Shall we sit down here, or would you like to go for a walk along the rose terrace with me?"
"The rose terrace?" I suddenly thought of Henry. "No, Sam, we can sit here. Someone else will appear soon."
"Very good. Bit of a wild time, I gather. I'm not used to it. I suppose you've been to lots and lots of these-this kind of thing?"
"It's my first time," I told him truthfully.
"Oh, I understand. Both of us innocents." Sam sipped his coffee. "Well, allow me to look after you. I shall be yourmentor and your guardian against all of them. If it is alright with you?"
"Yes, yes, I would be very pleased if you could." I blushed and looked away. It seemed rather stupid for an orgy girl to blush. But I did find Sam fascinating, right from the very first moment of our somewhat odd meeting.
"I gather the 'pill' has made a difference to girls. They don't mind thiser, kind of thing." He fluttered and flustered in a glorious old-fashioned way.
"The orgy, you mean? Oh, we are all orgy girls. I am, anyway."
"But I thought you said, Diana, this was the first time?" He stared at me.
"Yes, it is-but, really, I came knowing, well, that it would happen." I could not help flushing once more. He made me awkward.
"I see, and I don't. No matter." Sam placed his cup down and looked about. "Well, we are still deserted. Let's go for a stroll down to the river. It's nice and green down there. Come along."
I had no chance to refuse. We got up and went down the terrace steps. I was most careful not to look to the left or to the right, in case I might see some activities I need not bother to ob serve. We got to the park grass and walked arm in arm in the golden sunlight.
"Look at that butterfly. Isn't it beautiful!" Sam exclaimed with a pleasant laugh. "I've been in Indian, and all along the coast of Australia, you see. England is beautiful when you get back home and see it all so fresh and green." He stared at me. "And very beautiful it is, too. Diana, nice name. Orgy girl, well, pity, eh, but we both came to see the orgy, I suppose." He frowned, then suddenly kissed me on the cheek. "I am lucky today."
An orgy party is no place to fall in love. I kept telling myself that over and over again, as we walked in the wonderful sunlight down to the river. He was a man, and I was an orgy girl. That was all there was to it. I looked up and smiled at him as we reached the shade of a great willow. The fronds of the willow were trailing lines over the face of the flowing river that swept beneath the other side of it. There was a wide ground sheet spread beneath the willows, where someone else had nested. We sat down, hidden by the fronds from the rest of the world. I lay back and smiled. It was cool and pleasant near the running waters.
"Nice! You are a beautiful girl. Eighteen nineteen?" Sam asked as he leaned over me.
I felt he was becoming too sentimental. I was not here for this sort of thing. I wanted excitement, loving, all the laughter and the freedom. Sam was bothering me. I lifted my hand and slowly undid one of his shirt buttons. He slipped his tweed jacket off, opened his shirt and came back to hold me.
"My, my, what a girl." He undid the front of my dress. I was naked beneath it, and my breasts made him stop and flush. Then he felt a rise of real desire and he was kissing them, his hand running down, down, and down until my legs were free and his fingers plunging into my slit eagerly.
"Sam, quick, oh, Sam!" I gasped at him. For the tension of the morning had risen within me. I held his thick cock as his trousers opened, and he was with me as quickly as I shifted my hips and allowed him to slide into my hot, moist cunt. "Oh, Sam-that is better. I want you, Sam. Just you! Only you, you know that." My hips went surging against him. Sam was panting and again kissing my breasts.
It was wonderful loving. Sam was a strong, virile man who could hold back his come for what seemed to me to be hours and hours. He was gentle when he had to be, yet could crush me against his body in a tight, bursting way that made us simply flood and come together in a great breathless, single entity. I loved him. I could not help it. From that moment on, Sam was mine. I would have clawed the eyes out of any other girl who as much as even looked at him.
"Sexually, you are pretty hot-stuff," Sam said. He was nestled in me, and we were locked together by the river. "Diana, Diana, you sweet, nutty little girl. I suppose I could have been any man-any man at all?"
"Oh, no!" In a way I lied to him. "I came to this party with a friend, Desmond. I expect you will meet him."
"Does he mean a lot to you, this, Desmond?" Sam asked thoughtfully. He looked at me seriously as I shook my head. Then he said, "Will you sleep with me tonight? I'd hate someone else after all of this-I am crazy about you. You have no idea what this means to me. I have been dreaming about a girl like you for years. Rather bitter, isn't it?"
"Why?" I asked as I hold him to me. "It's natural. I love you. It doesn't matter. I never want to get married, and I never want to have a family. I wish to be free, and to come and go as I please."
"I see. You never wish anything permanent?" Sam asked.
"No, not really." I thought for a moment. I moved my hips and could feel his wonderfully nice cock slowly stirring deep within me. Samuel was ideal for me, in shape, gentleness, size and voice. "In a way, I might fall in love, and marry someone-someone special. Someone like you, Sam."
"You might." Sam chuckled and began slowly working my thighs with his cock until I was breathless all over again.
"I love you. I do love you!" I could not help crying it out.
"Then we'll be together, all through this orgy," Sam told me.
"Yes, yes, yes!" I cried out as I clung to him. "I will be yours and yours only. No other man." His cock was thrilling me right out of my mind. I clung to him and sobbed for air as he came and came, and I was his all the way!
It was a wonderful orgy at Woodlands Hall. I enjoyed every single second of it. The only thing was, the orgy of sex, and loving, and having one another was strictly between Sam and myself. But a lot of other things happened in between. For we had to come up for food, for breath, for the dancing and for the introductions.
The first time I saw Sir Peters he was lying naked on a bed, with a blond girl on each side of him. One was kissing his cheek, the other was slowly stroking his slender cock as if it was an elegant asparagus stalk.
"Diana, I'm sorry I'm so preoccupied. Desmond was simply raving about you, my gal. I do hope we can make a better acquaintanceship at some more opportune time. You certainly look a stunner. Phone me up when you get back to town. I've got a Knightsbridge number. Now don't forget, Diana-love to see you." He suddenly spoke to the girl who was caressing his elegant stalk. "Now you can enjoy it, darling thing."
The girl lowered her head, her golden hair cascading down about Sir Peter's belly, but her head began to bob up and down and he closed his eyes in rajah bliss. I stared for a moment at these orgiasts. It was all so slow and delicate, like a writhing sensual painting. His moustache was huge and quivering to the bobbing of the fellatrix's strokes now. I could see that Sir Peters was something of a connoisseur in orgy matters.
Then there were so many others, some of them gross and sweating. Others copulating in a slow, English manner, polite and full of conversation.
"I say Diana, you ought to try this ox. His prick has a jolly lovely kink in it," Lady Candice told me as the man over her was demonstrating his oddity furiously within her. For a moment she gasped for breath. I always consider it difficult to continue a good conversation when one is being fucked furiously. "Simply divine, the way he swivels it about or something. Reminds me of the French bastard I had as my second husband. He had the same trick. It-it, er, ohh, gets to one, ohh, ohh, ohh! Excuse me-ohh!" Lady Candice had to grasp her man and ride to glory with him. That was the end of that conversation. I fled, flushed and hot, and had to find Sam again to make sure he and I were safe, and only for each other. Samuel came to bed with me, and there we locked about each other in perfection all over again.
I kept hearing the jingle-jangle of Desmond's spurs in the most un-likely places. After the yew bushes, I heard them close to the potting shed at the bottom of the vegetable garden. He was somewhere down in a heap of fine grass cutting along with a dark-legged girl who was kicking madly to his joy strokes. Then I heard them in the ballroom, just as most of the very weary couples were slowly trailing along to the champagne supper buffet. The metallic singing note came from behind a towering palm in a pot before the conservatory doors. I peeped over, and this time there was a pair of slender and very white legs locked about Desmond's derriere, and riding the full road to the spurred-on glory. I could hear a knocking noise which I later realized must have been her head on the wooden flooring as-Desmond stroked brutally to his climax. I was glad I had managed to lose him as my orgy partner! Fancy having one's head beaten against the dance floor by some daft and crude lover like that. It sickened me as I recalled the brute in the stables and the way he had made my head wobble all about-and Trudy's also, come to that. Men are such animals! My Samuel was gently, kind, and careful; and he was a great lover. I think his length exactly fitted me, and his body seemed to adhere to mine from the very first moment of touch. It filled me with a gay, fine laughter. I was in love-and it seemed nicer than ever it had been with Colin, or anyone else.
Trust me to come to a wild orgy, as an orgy girl, and find the only man in the world for me!
It was Sunday evening when they played the game of Hunt the Thimble. Each girl was told to come naked to the ballroom and collect her thimble. There was only one place a girl could hide it. The prize would go to the man who collected the most thimbles without a fuss or noise. I argued with Sam, and at last he agreed to let me participate, as long as he was the only hunter who would find me and claim my thimble.
There were some sixty girls in the ballroom, in cloaks, but naked beneath. They accepted their thimbles with a giggle. Then the rows of candles were put out and, in the warm dark, a general scuffling began. We girls had been given five minutes in which to flee to any spot in the house and hide. As I went along the hall to the steps, I almost tripped over a man and a girl making love. So someone cheated right in the first few minutes.
It was strangely and breathlessly exciting, to stand in the dark listening to calls, giggles, and the sudden gasps of couples who were fucking without knowing who the other was. I began to feel myself get more and more excited by it all. I had agreed to wait for Samuel, but I did not know he had got delayed. I think he bumped into a girl and was caught. Anyway, I was certain I was by the right door, in the right part of the corridor. But all the time the stealthy noises of the prowlers searching with rigid cocks to prod and find the missing thimbles, was getting closer and closer.
"Who is this?" A voice whispered to me. I thought I recognized it, but I was silent. His hands suddenly came in touch with me. I quivered as his hands came to my breasts and caressed them, then slowly moved down. The man pressed himself against me, and I was surprised to feel his hard-on cock slowly rotating around and around.
"Have you a thimble? I am Henry," the voice whispered.
I was desperate, my knees were slowly parting to allow him full freedom of search. Henry came closer and was kissing me on the mouth, running his tongue about, meeting my tongue. I was panting and the feeling of the orgy made me ache to accept him.
"I am looking for Jill. You are not Jill-she was to be along here some place." His cock was already slowly widening my slit, and I could not help but assist him.
I suddenly lowered my hand and slid it along his manhood. He gasped and tried to shake me loose. But I stroked him, then knelt down and brought his cock to my mouth. My tongue curved and pressed, tickled and caressed.
"You aren't Jill!" Henry exclaimed with an earthy chuckle. His body was quivering now, and his cock began to pulse to each working of my lips and tongue. I stood up and rolled his cock right between my legs so that for a moment he entered me fully. Then I contracted and gave a cry of pleasure. Henry was spurting and was lost. He did not even have a chance to feel the thimble. I slid his wet cock out and caressed it as friendly as I could in the dark. Henry swore and stuttered.
"You done it now! Jill will know. She's sure to want me to fuck her-and what with?" He grumbled and went past me on into the dark. A few minutes later I heard Jill sigh. Somehow Henry was working her up to yielding him her thimble.
Leaning back, I was wet with desire. If any other man had as much as touched me, we would have been down and making love for all it was worth. The orgy was infectious. Suddenly a hand came and ran over my shoulder, down to my breasts. I knew the touch instantly. It was Sam-at last!
"Where have you been, you beast!" I sighed. "Quick, take me, lover; oh take me right away!"
"You have your thimble?" Sam asked with a chuckle.
"Find it-it's there for you to touch and take," I gasped as my legs flew open for his fingers, and then his hard cock. He grunted as I locked my legs about him. I was panting on his shoulder. All about me were whimpering cries, sighs, and groans of full satisfaction. A faint stirring noise of fucking seemed to have filled the air.
"You, you are wet; the thimble is wet too." Sam panted as we sank onto a useful pile of placed cushions. Here he surged over my body, bending me to him, and ploughing deeper and deeper until I was sobbing to this natural rhythm.
"Yess! Oh, Sam-yes!" From all about us in the darkness seemed to come the same rising, falling, swishing, and slurping rhythm of couples searching for the elusive thimbles.
"I love you, Diana." Sam spoke to me clearly.
"I know, sweet. I know," I answered him as his cock came to pulsate in spasms. Sam was magnificent as a lover. He and I fitted in a way no other man had ever matched before. I was his, right from the first touch of him. I think it was his voice that made me know, and his cock was so wonderful I could do nothing but cling to him and sob for joy.
At one in the morning we were locked together again in his bed. Sam was holding me and telling me about his yacht, and the searching trips he made all about the world. I was amused as his cock got excited as he got excited about his mineral hunts. All at once a loud boom came from the windows. It was the gun firing off on the terrace. Someone was signaling the end of the orgy.
"That's it!" Sam chuckled to me. "The orgy is over. What we are doing right now is strictly against the rules of the house, Miss. I am afraid we shall have to stop it, this instant."
I rocked my hips and Sam gasped. "Try to stop," I told him.
"In a little while, you delicious vixen." Sam held me tightly and was stroking again. He had forgotten all about his yacht, and the oceans of the world. He was swimming into another kind of ocean right now. A primitive, woman's ocean.
"I think we ought to get married?" Sam said a while later.
"No-never." I smiled sadly as I told him. "Tomorrow we shall part, and never see each other again."
"That is not possible. I can't imagine it. Just-not possible. I would search every house in every street in the whole of London to find you again."
"I can save you that trouble. I can give you my telephone number."
"That is nice of you." He bit my ear gently. "Not at all, kind sir."
The following morning, the last of the guests were leaving. It was strange to look at Woodlands Hall and realize the wild weekend there had been here, in these sedate surroundings. I felt very fond of the place. It had been a most eventful time for me, and I was grateful for the whole thing. Sam insisted that he drive me back to London. I had no idea where my spur-jingling escort, Desmond, had vanished to. But judging by how often I had heard those spurs ringing out the final ride, I should think Desmond was in need of rest and recuperation! We stood in the hall and watched the couples strolling in and out of the brilliant September sunlight. The whole place was so Edwardian, and with an odd virile elegance that persisted in the atmosphere.
"Hello orgy gal, see you in Knightsbridge." Sir Peters came to say farewell. He was escorted by a battered-looking redhead. I wondered what had happened to the two blonde bed companions I had last seen him with. The redhead seemed rather a rough character to me. I felt certain I would see Sir Peters again, in London. But, a lot depended on what Sam said and did.
I am always such an emotional person. I cannot stand being alone. Yet there are times I have to escape and be on my own, for two or three days. I had never met a man I wanted around me all the time, ever before. But with Sam it was so different. He was with me all the time, and I never had a thought that he might not be. This gradually crept into me as we drove back to London. The autumn weather was changing. The nearer we got to the big city, the greyer the sky became. Rain splattered onto the windscreen, and we were hissing along the Great West Road, with the traffic all wet and slow.
"You ought to marry me, Diana," Sam announced once more, out of the blue.
"It would never work." I said it desperately. "Don't you see, Sam, I like to be free, and I am wild. And you are a voyager-you wish to go all over the world."
"You would have to come with me." He suggested.
"I would love to."
"Then, marry me. I have a job to do, north of Perth, and we could sail there on our honeymoon. How about it?" Sam grinned happily.
"Yes! Yes, I will marry you. But I don't think it will work," I added slowly. "Not for long-we are such different kinds of people."
"Good. We shall try. I love you."
"I love you very much, Sam." Then I laughed. "It's silly, to go to an orgy party and come back with a husband. I think you are quite mad. I shall give you a hell of a life."
"I'll risk it." Sam announced most seriously.
And that was that. We were married a week later, and we sailed in his large yacht two weeks after that. It was all very exciting, and I really thought my life had changed. In fact, I thought the orgy girl was a thing of the past.
It was not his fault. It most certainly was not my fault. I was eighteen and a half. I thought I knew everything. In fact, I was the most stupid, abysmally ignorant young girl who ever married and sailed away, and never lived happily ever afterwards.
CHAPTER FOUR
PETERS AND HIS PETER
Wild music came from the next room, but there were few other sounds. Most of the couples were sleeping in exhaustion, replenishing their interests and physical abilities. I wandered about, looking at some of the couples. They had ended up in the weirdest of positions. It is odd how many men like to go to sleep with their hand stuck right on a girl's fanny, as if they don't trust her even while they are asleep. Henry had done even better. He and Yolanda were locked about each other-both asleep, and both slowly pressing against each other in their erotic dreams. Henry always did like to have permanent possession of a girl's cunt. I turned down the tape player so that the music did not make such a hellish row; then I got a fresh bottle of champagne and drifted back to join my sweetie, Sir Peters, in his large bed.
"Hey there-orgy girl, back again." Peters was awake, and I nestled down beside him. His hand quietly opened my towel and he lowered his head to slowly kiss my breasts. "Very nice! A chappie wakes up and finds such a beautiful pair of knockers waiting to make him hard again. What a gal, Diana! What a gal."
"Care for a glass?" I asked him.
"Yes, just a spot of cheery, my gal." He sat up and kept one hand on my slit playfully as we sipped and smiled at each other. I rested back and waited for him to become more interested. Peters was a gentle lover, and I was wondering exactly how old he was.
"Ah, nice fanny, gal, nice fanny." He lay next to me and kissed my breasts again, with champagne moist lips. "I'm afraid my old peter is letting me down these days. Few years back we could have got to it hog fashion, dog fashion, the darned lot. Now I've got troubles."
"Troubles? You? Tell me about them, dear." I snuggled down to listen.
"How old do you think I am, Diana?"
"Oh, forty something?" I smiled at him. His moustache tickled my nipple.
"Fifty-eight, me dear! Fifty bloody eight years old. I have had a hellish good run for my money. Now's the time to pay the darned piper-I suppose. Got prostate troubles."
"What is that?"
"Can't piss so easily, me dear. You see, it's my dashed parents' fault. They left me too much damned money. I ask you, with three million at twenty-five, what's a feller to do? Just girl after girl, and the most beautiful ones in the world, let me tell you. You are one of them of course. But, a chappie can't go on and on without the old motor-works kicking up some time or other. I've loved gals every night for years and years. Made a real hog of myself, damned good it has been! Now the doc tells me my prostate gland is four times the size it should be. Means little dickie can't stand up straight and hard like it used to. Means a nasty probing job by some butcher of a surgeon or other. By God, if they make me impotent I'll kill the devils. I swear I shall. What other pleasure is there left?"
"You have to have an operation?" I looked at him.
"Yes, fed up with these darned massages. Too many of them and they hurt like hell-stuck their finger up my arse to do it, you know. I shall be glad to have the old prostate out and be done with. Only thing, means my fucking days are pretty well over. Gad, a whole life-time given to cunt, and now I am being robbed of my connoisseurship. Jolly bitter, you know. Kind of makes me feel I've wasted a damned lot of talent. But, Jove, I've had some wonderful creatures in bed with me. I've had a lot of pigs, too, mark you. But the good ones have more than made up for the bad. Ever met anyone you really fitted with, Diana?"
His question startled me. I stared at Sir Peters and smiled, wanly. Then I nodded slowly and looked down at my half empty champagne glass.
"Damned good feller he was, I bet! You are one of the nicest pieces of cunt I have ever had, know that? Delicious gal. I say-wasn't that Samuel chappie, was it? Didn't you marry him and go off to some bloody God-forsaken spot like Australia, or something?"
I thought I might have tears in my eyes. In some ways it is best to forget the past, bury it, leave it to lie and moulder. Sir Peters chuckled and hugged me naked and tight against him.
"Yes, he was a good looking chappie. I thought, 'Farewell Diana', when you and he got spliced. Gave you a rough time, did he? Ought to have warned you about these empire builders damned ego-maniacs, the lot of them. Hellish hard on their women-folk. I knew one, made an old woman of his bride in eighteen months, and she was a stunner too. Had her myself, one Ascot week, before they married. Took her out to Africa, he did. What with the fever and the heat, poor little gal was an ancient crone inside two years. Never recognized her when she came back. Damned hard life-no life for a woman. Something like that happened to you, what?"
He patted me on the head. I caressed his cock and we turned and held each other in mutual so lace. It was not sexual; it was naked intimacy, and liking, and knowing, and feeling a great empathy for each other in our troubles. That was what was always so nice about Sir Peters. Many women would always love him, no matter what happened.
Sir Peters' words echoed as I lay and thought about it all. It was true. A girl gives everything, her life, herself, her freedom, all for one wedding ring. I did not regret doing so. But it had been a few fleeting months, not even a year.
My dear tough Samuel loved three things in life. He loved his yacht. He also loved his quest, the eternal search for a treasure or for a mineral deposit to make himself fabulously rich again. And after that he loved the free, wandering life. I slowly came to realize that Diana hardly existed in any of these three main loves. I was just someone there, someone who had happened along and made an ideal sex mate for him. As a person, I existed solely as Samuel's satellite, and hardly even that. I realized I had married an almost completely self-sufficient man. He had no need of me except in bed. Samuel could cook, sail, make money, carve a glittering career as a swashbuckling type of male other men love. I admired him, after my love died. I still do admire him. He was too great a sacrifice for me not to admire him forever. But love is not a thing that lives on admiring some tough he-man. Our marriage was wonderful at the start, when I thought he needed me. Only, bit by bit, it became all too obvious that Samuel needed nobody but himself. In a perverse way he would deny this, yet he would also agree it was so.
"I love you, Diana, that's all there is to it, girl. Now, tomorrow we get around the Stray Sheep Islands and beat north. I hear the pearlshell fleet is coming down from there, and they must be on to something." He banged his fist down on the charts. "We can beat them to it; I know we can. You see, we'll hit the jack-pot soon. I can almost smell the filthy lucre puring in. Then we can refit and sail for Hawaii."
I was alone. That was also a terrifying part of my marriage. It was not a matter of there being no communication-we talked and talked, but always about gold, treasure, shell, or new islands. I could see nothing there for me. I was on a yacht with twelve men as crew, and no place to hide from anyone.
"You're lucky for me," Samuel would say when we did make money. And he would airmail an order for a mink coat, or a diamond bracelet-along with orders for more diesel engine parts.
I suppose I was lucky for him. But he was not lucky for me. I was getting too thin. I was often sick, quietly, alone in our cabin. I hated the great vast emptiness of the oceans and the barren coasts. From Perth to the north there is nothing but rock, ocean, and ocean again.
Then there came the man from the Alder Islands. There were always men coming onboard with canvas bags, ideas, news, maps for sale, stories of gold or treasure lost somewhere. Samuel treated them all courteously, but he rarely did believe them. Only Duke was different, a quiet, mousy man. Out of his canvas bag he brought three small shells.
"These, Sam, they is from them Alder Islands. I gets 'em from a Kanaka alongs that way, year back. Now, them's are rare shells. They is worth fifty Yankee dollars apiece. Tiffany will buy all yer can gits, see, and there's not that many hundred of them, but there is enough to make a tidy sum, there is."
I liked Duke. He was young, with golden hair all untidily down his neck. Large blue eyes were set in his quiet face and he spoke as if he did not care whether Sam believed him or not.
"What do you do, Duke?" I asked slowly, while Sam was looking at the three small shells through an eye-piece.
"Well, Ma'am, little as possible. I drift the tide a bit, you might say. I reads a lot, history and economics, and also I learns a lot about birds. I got a degree from Sydney years back, but I comes up here to have an easy life. It's me chest-no clearer air in the world than up here. They gives me six months to live, five years back, so I gets on my bicycle and I comes out to the Northwest, and here I can live 'til I'm ninety, so they say." He smiled sadly at me. "You feeling alright, Ma'am?"
"Not too good, Sam." I smiled back.
"God, they are beautiful! Have a look at these, Diana!" Sam had that look in his eyes. He was onto something and he smiled a full smile at Duke, which meant a lot.
I inspected the shells slowly. They were, and are, the most beautiful shells I have ever seen. Tiffany buys them for ear-rings, and sets them in platinum with diamonds and rubies. The shells are about half an inch long, silver white outside, their mouths deep crimson, with small gold stars scattered inside. I was surprised, as each one was so perfect and so exquisite.
"Did you ever see anything like it?" Sam spoke gruffly.
"They are worth fifty dollars each." I told him. "I wonder how many there are there."
"Not many, Ma'am." Duke explained. "It's all on one reef what's hard to find, and them shells is in deep water most of the year. They rise come spring, and they like shallow water a while; then they gits deep again. I got this here map, what the Kanaka makes for me. I had to take him to the hospital; for he was a very sick feller and we saved him in the nick o' time, you might say. He gives me these, and I ain't done nothing about them. Now I wants to write to the University for books. I got to have them books, and I need some cash to gets them here."
"Would you make a deal?" Sam asked slowly, not taking his eyes off those three shells.
"That's what I comes here for." Duke smiled. "You got a fine boat, Sam, but it must cost a pretty penny to run it. The lads on the beach tells me you are fair, if you are interested in something. I ain't in no hurry. I got four years philosophy studying before me, and I needs them books to get the ground work done."
I was listening to them talk. Sam was making a deal for himself, and Duke would get the books. It was eighteen hundred miles to the Alder Islands where the shells were supposed to be. I was thinking of yet another voyage, an endless eighteen hundred miles-and I fainted.
When I came round, I was in our slide bunk. The yacht was under way and I slowly turned my head. Duke had just entered our cabin and he held onto the rail as he looked at me with the same sad smile.
"We're running for Larde Landing. There's a good jetty there, Ma'am." He explained it quietly.
"Oh, I am sorry, I seem to be very weak."
"There's some as can take this life, others as can't, Ma'am." Duke looked slowly about our cabin. "And this, it ain't no life for you. Not to my ways of thinking. Anyhows, there's a doctor at Larde and we'll gits you ashore and see what he says. He's a ripe Pommey doctor, and good if he ain't drunk too much rum." He hung on as the yacht pitched into seas. "Right rough, out here. Sam is going to run on to them Alder Islands in time for the rising of the shells. I reckons he'll make a tidy fortune out of it all. It's a fair deal."
I looked at Duke, and suddenly we understood each other. It was the end of one way of life, and the beginning of another.
The first time I saw myself in the hospital mirror I did not believe it. I was nineteen and a half. Yet looking at me was the face of an old, shriveled-up woman. My hair was dank and straight, my cheeks sunken right in', my eyes dull. It was not possible! No, no, this could not be me! But it was! I put my hands to my face and sobbed. I sat down and did not dare look up for a long while. I think that was the moment Sam died in my heart. I was so terrified with what I saw; all I could think of was to survive and live, just a little longer.
Later, there was a knock at my door. I was putting on some lipstick, and making an effort to smile. Duke came into my room carrying a brown paper parcel.
"Oh yus, what's this? Bit of lipstick, bit of paint, makes a little lady really what she ain't!" He laughed and lightly patted my shoulder. "Good to see it! Damned bloody good to see it, ducks. Time you was getting back on yer pins. Now, you all set to leave the magnificent Larde 'Orspital? Doc is off blind drunk some place, so we might as well push when we are ready. Take yer time, Ma'am, take yer time."
"Where are we going?" I returned to my make up. Duke was a deep friend. Like a hand out of the dark, or a bridge in very dangerous waters.
Someone you trust and know has been sent at this moment.
"Going? Got to go to my palatial residence, that's where. I got a lot of your clobber up there, too. Sam leaves me your mink coat. Blimey, one hundred and ten in the shade ain't no time to wear mink, but he leaves it, in case. Also, he leaves you these 'ere, in case."
"In case? In case of what?" I turned and looked at Duke.
"Like he said, never know. He might hit a rock, get beached some place with no ways out. He might be gone half a year. Sam was worried about you, and about you being stranded, so he left all of this stuff. He'll be back for you, don't worry about that. Here, these are yours. I took special care of 'em."
Duke handed me the parcel and I knew instantly what it was. In the wrapping was my jewel case. I slowly undid the paper and opened the case. There was my diamond bracelet, the gold watch, all of my necklaces, and wrapped in white tissue were two of the small shells Duke had brought to our yacht. I was crying and I looked up at the mirror to see the ghastly old woman with running mascara, smeared rouge, rough hair.
"I got to survive, Duke. I have got to survive," I sobbed.
"Ma'am, Ma'am, listen, listen ducks, you are safe. It ain't no life out there for you. You're city, and class, and nothing like all of that out there. Didn't yer know that? He ain't deserted yer, but be best if he did. I tells yer, people kill each other and calls it for love."
"I know, I know," I stifled my sobs. "But I got to survive, Duke. I can't see how, that's all. I just can't see how."
"Come on, get the war-paint on again. Soon as you gets yer strength back, why, you'll be a different girl. Then we can hop down to Perth and I gets my books, and you can see the big city. Come on, let's walk out of this place. 'Orspitals always give me the proper creeps, they do. Best way is to walk out as soon and as quick as you can, before they comes to carry yer out. Come along, Ma'am; let's get home to some good cooking."
Australia has many vast and wonderful beaches. This one was so perfect it was a dream world. I swam from the coral. Here the waves were bouncing with a great thunder and a sparkle of white diamonds in the afternoon air. One knocked me over, but a young surfer was close and we waded up. It had been three and a half weeks since I came out of the hospital. I was feeling so wonderful I had shrugged off the past few months as some kind of a nightmare.
"Hey, barbecue is ready soon, Diana!" Duke called to me from the white of the sand dunes. Here, his fat blond wife and their many kids were camped like a ragged tribe of primitive people. Duke's wife, Nora, was a simple, plump woman.
"Come on, ducks, get fed!" Nora shouted at me with a wave of her great, fat arm. "You gotta put weight on, ye know."
I came up to the camp and took the towel Nora flung at me. They both were busy turning the ribs over on their beach fire, then both stopped and looked up at me.
"Well, she's got a sexy figure-you're right." Nora announced. "And she is nineteen, like you said she was. You want to leave that man, Diana. He ain't for you. He'll bury you next time, if you ever gets back with him."
"Ahh, shush!" Duke told his wife. "Girl's got to make up 'er own mind about things like that, so she has. But you listen to what Nora says, Diana. There's a lot of truth in it."
"Man ain't got no right to do that to any woman! Here, Duke, you know what you gone and done?" Nora suddenly shrieked at her husband.
"No-have I spoilt the sauce?"
"You know what you done!" Nora shouted.
"What I done?"
"You done it again, that's what; it's another!" Nora sat down and started serving out the ribs.
"Another? Gawd-stone-me! Not another!" Duke looked shocked.
"Another what? What is it? They smell very good." I knelt down with them and felt hungrier than I had ever done in all my life.
"She's gonna have another." Duke announced sadly. "It ain't my fault. All we need is another baby!"
"I said eight was enough, and now we're getting the eleventh." Nora sniffed and looked suddenly smug. "He's only got half a lung left, yer know, and yet he produces kids like they was going out of fashion. I warns yer-I warns yer, Duke!"
"Ain't my fault. If you'd woken up in time."
"I never wake up. You do it in yer sleep too!" Nora said very accusingly.
"It happens, so it happens." Duke sighed. "I got four years philosophy to study, and we keep on getting more and more of them. Blimey, we'll end up by populating the entire Northwest."
"You make love in yer sleep and yer don't give me no warning; it ain't fair. Here, Diana, help yourself. I hope it's a girl this time. I'm sick of men and sick of boys. I want a baby girl this time. Maybe we can call it Diana. You look pretty; you look real pretty now. I would never have guessed you were so beautiful. Ain't she real beautiful, Duke?"
"Yes, yes, but she won't be if she goes back with 'im!"
"That's true. When you flying down to Perth, Diana?" Nora asked me as we started eating.
I had already made my decision. To leave here was to finish my marriage. But to continue my marriage, I knew instinctively, would be the end of me. I had no choice, really. "In a couple of days time. Are your books in Perth now, Duke?" I spoke quietly, watching the children swarming over the dunes towards us and food.
"Yus, ducks, been there a week now. O-keydokey, we'll fly down to Perth day after tomorrer. I'll tell Sam when he gits back, if he ever gits back, you was too ill to stay. It's true, in its way."
"You tell him he shouldn't have no wife if he don't know how to treat a woman proper," Nora announced bluntly.
"Gawd, we got a tribe to feed. I don't know how I'll manage while you're away, Duke."
"Only be a couple a' days, girl, and I shall be back after seeing our gal here on her way 'ome."
Nora laughed.
It was a brilliant golden and blue day, with the vast ocean dancing away on the beach so freely. I did not feel I was running away. I had done my best. There was nothing more to it than that. In the end, a girl has to survive.
Perth is really a quiet town, very beautiful and with a vast hinterland that goes thousands of miles across a great continent. It is an easy city, but to me it was terrifying. I suddenly seemed to be absolutely surrounded by people. After months and months of nothing but ocean, sky, rocky coasts and deserted islands, the pressure of even an easy city like Perth was astonishing, terrifying, in its way. I was very glad to have Duke with me. In his quiet, sad, and shabby
'out-back' style, he was a great help. There was nothing sexual between us. I think Duke was complete, as a family man, as a father, as a desert philosopher. I would have slept with him for company. But I knew the idea would shock his Australian Victorian morality. So I slept alone in my hotel bed, and worked out what to do with my life.
The more I walked about Perth, looked into shops, went to the beauty parlors, the more I was certain I was right. I looked at the great Swann River, flowing out towards the sea, and it seemed to tell me that I was right. I had to go home, back to England, back to London.
"So yer made yer mind, up, eh," Duke said on the third day as he was packing to go home. "That's fair enough! You gives Sam a good run, ducks. Ain't no life for a woman with the wrong man out there. Best chuck it and git 'ome to yer own folks. Blimey, I got a stack and a half of books. I never knew philosophy went that far back! How you gonna get home-fly, or the boat?"
"I'm going to fly to Cape Town, and then take the Union Castle line back to Southampton. In that way, Sam will never know which direction I went in."
The saddest moment was parting with Duke. He was such a quiet man, with his golden hair and his young face. He was Australia, in some strange way, and could not fit in any other place.
He smiled wanly at me as we stood by the airport gate.
"I'd stay and see you off, Diana, ducks. But if I hang about any city, I starts to git the cough. I daren't risk it. Gawd, but South Africa, and London, them's places I always wanted to get to some time or other. Funny, how when you're a young bloke, you have ideas of travelling the world. Specially us people, here, down-under. Why, the old walk-about is a great tradition. Kids today gits up and goes all over the world before they're twenty five. Me, I never been no place except Sydney and the desert. I guess I'm stuck up there for good, now. Nora's a great gal, ain't she? Sticking with me like that. I needs her like I needs my right arm, and she's good about that. Lucky, finding my Nora, I was. You're looking better, Diana, lots better. Be six months before you wash that skinniness out of you, all of that."
The local airliner was filling and the announcer was calling off the stops. They sounded strange-Briggs Defeat, Lake Bitter Disappointment, Dead Cow Landing, Larde Jetty, Mort's Place-names that brought a shuffle of out-backs heading for the plane.
"I ain't gonna say goodbye, ducks." Duke winked at me. "S'long, gal. When he comes to me, I'll tell him you're gone. Where, why, and how, that's nothing to do with me. Look us up, kiddo, look us up, one day."
Standing by the wire fence, I stayed until the plane was a speck heading high to the north. A great loneliness fell about me as the sound of the plane died in the sky. Turning, I walked slowly away. It was time I started for home.
George was due at eight o'clock and I was very nervous. It was four months since I had arrived back in London. I had come up from Southhampton, got myself an apartment, raised some money, bought a car, taken a holiday in Paris. All of this time I did not have a man. I avoided men, even to the point of being rude to them. In a way, I was getting over my marriage. I was keeping myself for myself. I had no sexual desires; I was too thin, and too nervous. But as spring came to London, I felt the whole world was blossoming into lilac and green just only for me!
George hovered about in the distance. He was an old faithful. In fact he was so faithful I had completely forgotten he even existed. But he heard I was in London, after a couple of months, and slowly I accepted going out a few times with him. George knew I had been married, but he never mentioned it. I think he was in the throes of the end of an affair himself. And I was determined not to go overboard on some rebound. Besides, what did I want of sex? I had hard enough times just straightening myself out. George was moody, quiet, a brooder, and lazy. He was not the antithesis of Sam, but he was a totally different person. I loved him for nothing. George was nothing, a gap, a rest, an acceptance that my way of life had to go on, eventually.
"Hello, Diana, I managed to get a couple of stall seats, we'll have to hurry." For once, George had done the right thing. We were off to Covent Garden, then on to a restaurant for dinner, and by one in the morning we came drifting back to my apartment door.
"I suppose I had best get off home." George stood and smiled. "It's been a delightful evening, Diana."
"Come in for a night-cap," I said quietly.
"Yes, it would be nice. I can't stay long." George had not even kissed me. I felt a slight irritation arising from his very over-protective manner. I did not wish to have an uncle. Or did I? Leading the way into my apartment, I sighed to myself. It was another decision to be made. "Pour yourself a drink. I'll just change into something more comfortable. My shoes were killing me all through the last act."
George ceremoniously put down his hat and coat. He looked slowly about my main room and nodded. "Nice place, Diana. Very good. Can I fix you something?" He called after me.
"Martini, I think, dry."
For some reasons I stripped, and looked at myself naked in my bedroom mirror. My figure was back to normal, almost. My eyes were clear and bright. I nodded, slipped on a dressing gown, loosened my hair and slowly came back to the room where George sat sipping his scotch and looking at an evening programme. "That's better. I feel relaxed and civilized." I accepted the glass he silently held out to me. "Thank you, George, dear."
"Hope it's what you like. I see you are down to your last three olives." George made room for me on the couch.
It was an excellent martini. I laughed. All at once it was all pleasant, and-exciting. "I shall buy some more, George. You make a very good martini."
"Thank you. That deserves a kiss." He put his drink down, placed his arm about me, and we kissed. His tongue came to touch mine, and from the smooth move of his experienced ways, I felt slightly less nervous.
"George, let's talk." I sat up again.
"What about?"
"How old are you?"
"Twenty eight, be an old man of twenty-nine soon. A bored second son with a business to run and a mother who thinks all of her sons are her slaves. No, seriously, I am happy, but I have been through, well, a situation. I think you understand. I am looking for-companionship. Relaxation and companionship! By God, I ran my legs off for that girl, and she treated me like nothing! I suppose I am the kind of man a woman does not notice very much. What do you think?"
"You are kind, good looking, easy to get along with. I like you very, very much." I lay my head upon his arm and shoulder. Small pangs of desire were definitely in me now. I had thought all of that finished, gone, never to return again. Hey there-orgy girl! Here is a man and she sits shivering beside him! I smiled at the old idea in this new setting.
"I suppose I had better go home," George announced, finishing off his drink.
"Thank you for the wonderful evening." I stood up with him and we went to my door. George collected his coat and hat and came close to me. He stopped and smiled.
"It's been jolly good, Diana, no competition, just nice and pleasant." He suddenly put his hat and coat down again. "You know, when you first came home-now you look more and more beautiful. I think you are the most beautiful thing I have seen for a long while. When you first came home you were haunted, and so thin. I felt very sorry for you. Now you are one of the most desirable creatures I know in town." He kissed me, and his hand came beneath my dressing gown, onto my naked breasts. I quivered and stiffened for a moment. There was definitely a small point of panic in me.
"George, be careful, please, be tender," I whispered to him.
"I had better go," George said, but did not release me.
"Not if you don't want to," I told him. George picked me up with one sweep and I laughed as he strode so firmly across the room.
"Where are we going?" I cried in mock surprise.
"To bed, to love, to stay," George announced as we entered my bedroom. The comer of the bed was already turned down, and there was a single lamp lit. George placed me most carefully down on the bed, then stripped off his clothes, shut the door, and came back towards me. I was slightly, primly shocked-and delighted at being so shocked to see his solid cock sticking right out before him. Here was a new lover-at last!
I was stiff, that was the trouble. The instant George lay down on the bed with me, a deep shock came into my heart. This was not Sam! It was a completely stupid, irrational idea, but I could not help it. For nearly two years now, I had loved and been made love to by one man, my husband, Sam. Now, here was a different man leaning over and kissing my breasts, caressing my thighs, placing his hand down to my vagina, and prying my legs open as his fingers sought my love bud and worked it into a tinkling electrical point. I was panting hard, and suddenly a wild protest surged through me.
"George, no, no, please George! I can't-I have, have changed my mind. I mustn't let you. Please, I shall scream or shout, or go mad." Yet my hands were clawing into his back and my head was tossing from side to side as shudders of desire made my body rise and quiver and open, open, open for him wider all the time.
"Diana, lovely girl, wonderful, wonderful girl." George held hard onto me. I lowered my hand to feel his cock, to try and stroke the passion out of him, to try and make him come without taking me. It was all a frenzy, and I was too stiff, too frightened. This was a strange man. I did not know his body. Suddenly George got hold of both my hands and rammed them hard right above my head, over the pillows my head lay upon.
"You want me, you want me!" George demanded.
"I don't know. I-can't say! George, oh, George. I just can't-can't stop you, and yet I don't want to. What shall I do? George, oh, what shall I do?" I sobbed out passionately.
Then I felt his cock prodding about the entrance of my love nest. I was moist and surging about. George's cock suddenly rippled into me, deeply and fully. I could feel a man possessing me for the first time for months and months. I gave a gasp and could not move. It was a surprise, a shock. I had not had cock for so long in me, I was overwhelmed by the size, the pressure, the new sparkling emotions that burst like a joyous tide all through me now.
"George, fuck me. Fuck me, George. I need it, I need it so much-ooh!"
I could feel how strange it was to have another man, and also to have a man loving me after all this time. I was lost in the orgasm that broke through me almost instantly. George was good medicine. He was just what I had to have.
"George, oh, marvelous George, keep on, and on-all night."
George was swaying in and out, and he was enjoying himself as much as I was. I laughed and held his shoulders. Loving was what I was made for. Not going around an empty wilderness of ocean and sky. I needed men, more and more men.
"Yes, oh, yes,-yes! George, I am coming!" I cried out and sobbed in relief as the whole of my body answered his every loving stroke. It was so good, to have a man, to have his cock, to have the hot sweltering loving wet between us and to yield and yield and not worry or be frightened or be alone. Never again would I be alone. Never again would I sleep by myself. Not if I could help it.
"Diana-what a glorious body. I love you. I love you." George pressed his loins right into my crotch and ground away furiously. I could feel his come spurting and spurting into me. It was an orgiastic climax that robbed me of all my senses. I was lost in that delicious sensual world of man and woman. I was back in the feeling of having a man complete me, and knowing that I was necessary to him, each and every loving stroke was so necessary to him, and to me. If George had been a nonentity before, now he loomed all so large and solid and surging into me and my life. George was the ideal man to break my lock. He was as mild and as defensive as I was; we needed each other at this particular moment of our lives.
"George, that was super," I whispered as we cuddled close and hot and wet. "It was wonderful, darling. I so needed it. You have no idea how I did need you!"
"You were damned tight, Diana. Were you a virgin or something? I thought you had married some lusty adventurer type, but you were as tight as hell." George chuckled, then added, "I love you very much. It was rather nice, come to think of it. Anyway, it's completely removed her from my mind. Damned if I shouldn't have done this before. Always best to start something new, to get rid of the old, what?"
"No, you have it the wrong way around, George," I murmured to him. "Or at least, I think you have. But we are good for each other, and we must stay together, a long, long while."
"Give me a little while, and I shall try again," George murmured as he dozed beside me.
I slept deeply, for the first time in weeks. I had not realized that I was missing full sleep before. But George had released the sexual tensions out of my body, and I suddenly fell asleep with him beside me.
It was dark when I awoke, and I felt a man's hand sliding up my thigh, over my loins. The fingers slowly came into my hair, and gently searched until they found my slit. I was half asleep, but I knew it was the man I had had earlier. George, that was who it was. I smiled to my self and relaxed as his fingers lightly touched and began to thrill me. It was a delicious feeling, to awaken and drift into love making. I could sense my body slowly flowing for him and slowly yielding step by step. His desire to possess me again was something that rose and trembled in the darkness between us. Then George came over me and his cock slid into me. I lifted my thighs and locked my legs about him, allowing him to slide deeper and deeper.
We stayed like this a long, long while. It was perfection. I knew George's body by now, and I was able to rest at the right angle for us both. George sighed and kissed my breasts in the warm dark. He played and caressed and told me how much he needed me. It was lovely to be wanted. Lovely to be held in this loving position. I was so in this sexual delight, in this dream world of being loved, I would have liked it to last for ever and ever.
"I want to come, in you, again," George announced.
"Yes, yes, darling, if you wish to."
"I had to wait, and wait, and now it seems it was you I had been waiting for. Oh, you delicious girl, what a nice tight fit and what a lovely active body you have. The most beautiful thing." George was saying it all over and over again. But I enjoyed listening to it as he began to stroke faster and faster. I listened for as long as I could. Then suddenly I heard a strange crooning note. Up to then I was some kind of a side onlooker. But now I realized that the crooning note was my own voice. I was sighing and calling to each love stroke that George so deliciously and delicately surged into me. It was a long, slow, and delicate loving that built up and up. I was lost in this loving. I was lost in the way George so smoothly crept further and further into me, and brought to me a tippling peak that seemed to send me over and over. I remembered the golden surf of that vast Australian beach, when the wave had picked me up and tossed me over and over, and yet it was George and his loving and his pouring cock that surged and made me float to such a wild, delightful freedom. I knew it was close and tight. I gasped out. I held onto him. I had to cling and bite and shout. George was Joving me with a hard strength that made my legs kick free.
I was consumed with a wild free passion now. I was rid of Sam, and the life of the wilds. I was rid of everything except my need for loving. Oh, yes, I would fuck and fuck and fuck and fuck. That is what I would do from now on. I would never, never be able to get enough of men, and bed and fulfillment. Perhaps I was really trying to prove something to myself. I did not know. I did not care. It was what I had been made for, and it was what I would live for. I do not think George ever realized what he was doing to me, this moment of dawn love-making. But it was so. I could never be the same again. It was as simple as that.
I was shocked by George's wild come. He spurted so deeply into me; it was red hot and we both cried out for the glorious joy of our own ecstasies!
Then I was asleep. Into a deep therapeutic pit of complete black velvet dark I tumbled and turned and fell. There were voices calling to me. George was speaking, Sam was whispering. There was some kind of ocean scent. The great tideways of life had shifted for me. The faces of Trudy and that brute in the stables-but all spinning away. They would never be able to harm me ever again. I was certain of that.
"I love you. I love you," someone was murmuring.
"Yes, I know, pet, I know," I answered into the sea-drift dark.
And yet, I was going to be an orgy girl! I would not be faithful to one man, not ever! I was determined on that, even as timid George brought me to one of the greatest sexual climaxes I had ever known. I would not be his alone. I could not risk that. I never wanted to belong to any single man, never again! For, in many ways I had learned my lesson. Orgy girls are for play and for loving; orgy girls are for ever changing parties and good times all the time. They are delicate creatures in their way. They have to be loved and looked after, and kept in pretty clothes. This was the lesson my marriage had taught me.
George was nice. He was a good, quiet lover and looked after me properly. I needed George, who had so little demands to make on me. Sexually I could keep him happy, very easily. George would do for the time being.
In a while I would get back to the circuit of parties and fun. It would be the gay life for me, from now on. I knew how to take care of myself, and that I would do.
So from that first night, and the good fucking I had with quiet George, my marriage was over as far as I was concerned. I am not the type to settle for the kitchen sink and a brace of kids. I ought to have known that a good time ago.
Two weeks later, I phoned Sir Peters.
"Hello there, Diana! What a good surprise. I say, I'm off to a country party next week-end and we are dashed short of gals for it all.-Be nothing wild, just a friendly get-together, you know what, free and easy. Gloria and Yolanda will be there, those two charming little minxes miss nothing, you know. Good, do come along. I shall pick you up at about six Friday evening. Yes, it's almost like that one down at Woodlands Hall, but actually quite a different crowd. Dashed glad to hear from you. Thought you were buried in the colonies or some such place. Chinchin, Diana."
That was it. I was back on the party circuit. I went across and looked at myself in the mirror. I was better. Still not the same old Diana. But certainly nothing like that ghostly, gaunt old woman who had stood and wept before the mirror of the hospital at Larde Jetty. Much better now than I looked in Perth too, come to that. I was filling out again. My cheeks had almost lost that hollow look. I was no longer an 'out-back' ghost. It was as my good friend, Duke, had said to me, in time I would be back to my shape, and get most of my looks back.
The telephone rang as I stood there brushing the gloss back into my hair. It was Yolanda. She had heard from Sir Peters that I was back in town.
"Hello, darling, thought you had gone out to educate the natives!" Yolanda began with a light barb. "He was delicious, Sam, but I absolutely wept for you; such a sexy man, and he always treats his wives so harshly. Didn't you know? You were number three! One died. I believe from some horrid fever thingummy. You have no idea how lucky you were to escape from that tropical bluebeard. I know he got the boat from his second wife. Pete tells us you are coming down to Lovelace Hall, Diana. It's so good to think we shall all be back in circulation again, together. I want to tell you of Maurice, my sweet Mauri. He will be there, and I do hope he doesn't get attracted by you. He's from South Africa, and I have high hopes-the city, Johannesburg, dear, not the wilds. South Africans are highly civilized, and very nice people. Anyway, you'll meet Mauri, but I think Pete has great plans for you and himself. See you at the Lovelaces, darling."
I smiled to myself as I put the receiver back on the stand. It rang again with Gloria calling this time. We had a long talk. I was feeling myself to be right back in the swinging, living world again, thank goodness.
But there were a few moments when I missed Sam terribly. One does not marry a person and go with him into his life, and just shed it like that! I knew him too well, and in my heart of hearts I wished him well. His was an eternal quest, pushing on and on for new treasures. I somehow knew that I might have been like that myself. Certainly my parents were. My father had worked in every country of the world, and my mother had gone with him to each and all of them. I was not their type. It did not appeal to me at all. But I regretted this. I wish I had been. I would have been as excited as Sam had been over discoveries, and reefs, and old rusty things-which really meant nothing to me. And it was my loss. I missed Sam, and the feel of him. He had been all man! In fact, if it had not been that we had to part because of my illness, I often think I would have gone on and on with him, until perhaps I died or perished, or just faded away. I would have been faithful to him. He was that type of man; one never thought of any other way. But, he was not for me, not my type, not for my life. I had to accept the truth that I had to survive, and that meant the end of my mar: riage with Sam. And this being so, what else was there but to become a wild, fully-committed orgy girl. Living life to the phallic hilt each and every possible minute!
I busily prepared for the week-end down at Lovelace Hall. I had a new transparent nightie, and slippers, and everything else a girl needs to take care of herself and make good. George was away. In any case, that was over. George had done me very nicely. He had served his purpose. Now I was ready for battle.
Or perhaps I should say I was ready for the next orgy.
And that was to be at Lovelace Hall, if Sir' Peters' rakish way of heading for the right places for such things was accurate. I had never found him to miss anything, so Lovelace Hall it would be.
CHAPTER FIVE
NICE TO BE LOVED, AND LOVED, AND LOVED!
Really, it was an orgy on boats. That is how I think of the weekend at Lovelace. It was just one yacht after another, and in some of those boat cabins some pretty wild scenes were going on.
Lovelace Hall is on the Solent, not far from Lymington. It is not much of a house, but has a small natural harbour, in which were anchored at least fifteen very large yachts. There was some sort of yacht racing going on, starting the following week, and this group had arrived early, and were full of fun and games and money. Sir Peters drove me down in his old Bentley. We arrived in the dark, to be greeted by fireworks whooshing up into the sky. It seems that some prankster had'iet off a few rockets to liven up the night.
"Ahah, Peters, you have a popsie, eh." A moustached yachtsman primly glanced at me, then directed us along the quay to where we would find the young man organizing the whole thing.
"Peters, you old devil, knew you would turn up. Got a nice girl. Jove what a stunner. I am Jimsey. And you are?"
"Diana. I love your harbour," I told the blond haired young man as I got out of the Bentley. He stared at me, then winked at Sir Peters, took my arm, and escorted me over to a gangway onto an enormous white yacht.
"Diana, good name, Goddess of Love. You look really stunning, Diana. I suppose you'll have to change into ship gear, as those fancy dresses will be ruined."
"We're not going sailing, are we?" I said it in alarm, as I had had enough of yachts to last me a very long time. "I get sick on boats," I added lamely.
Jimsey gave a great hoot of laughter as we stepped onto the deck of what turned out to be his own private motor yacht. "Most of these fellows are harbour sailors. Never been to sea in their lives, but they know all the jargon, and they can tell you tales that would almost make the Ancient Mariner turn over in his grave! Hell, they would get lost trying to make it out of harbour, Diana. Have no fear, the real sailors are sour, taciturn people who have little time for us club house fellers."
I nodded. I knew exactly what Jimsey meant by the real sailors. I had married one and been to sea for too long. In a way, I was now fairly on the side of the dry-land yachtsman whom Sam had always been so quick to sneer at. They loved all things to do with yachts and yachting, but they loathed sailing out into the ocean. It was understandable.
"Careful how you come down these gangway steps." Jimsey helped me with one hand firmly over my breast. I sighed and accepted the intimacy. It was going to be that kind of a party, I could tell right away. In fact, as I reached the bottom of the gangway his other hand seemed to find the most sensitive part of my bottom to support me in case I stumbled. And, if I had stumbled, his finger would have slid in to prevent me falling!
"Jimsey, please!" I said in shocked surprise.
"What? Sorry me girl. Come on in and brace yourself for attack by pirates, Moors with whips, and any other kind of nautical atrocity you have ever heard of. Beware of the man with the pegleg; he loves to stomp on a girl's fanny with that wooden peg of his." Jimsey laughed and I was not altogether certain whether or not I shouldn't take him seriously since having had one of his fingers almost right into my slit within a few minutes of meeting him. I was wary of the whole thing.
And, indeed, I was right. A wilder, more orgiastic lot of ship's crews never before floated. They never went to sea, but they did not need to. All the sort of fighting they did was strictly with girls and in a bunk, bed, or on a deck-mattress. They might not have ever used the sabre or the cutlass, but they had a good weapon in their grasp most of the time, their cocks. I think now that there must be something about the sea air which makes men especially lusty. This lot of party givers were a floating menace of lust, rape, copulation, buggery, whipping, and chaining up. But perhaps that is what comes of never finally going to sea. The cabin was high, long, and wide. A man's bare buttocks were slowly rising and falling as we entered. I got a glimpse of a girl's knees, one on each side of the man's waist. Then Jimsey swore, jumped forward and hastily covered the naked couple.
"Hell, Frank, can't you wait until the whole lot arrive?" Jimsey told the culprit. "Who have you there with you?"
"Yolanda, I think," came the breath-heavy reply.
"Diana, sorry to bring you in here, but Frank always was a pig. Diana, come this way. Hey you lot in there, I'm bringing a new girl through; so cover yourselves up, or else look smart about it all." Jimsey had flushed as he spoke to them; he glanced back at me to see if I was shocked.
"Hello, Yolanda." I addressed the surging blanket.
"Oh, Diana?" came the muffled reply. "You got here-that's good. See you later, Diana. I'm erer-busy at the moment, so you must ohh, ohh, ohh!"
I left quickly as the blanket was beginning to surge faster and faster. It made me feel a gnawing to watch Yolanda being fucked so hidden and so heartily.
In the chart room were three young men. They were also taken by surprise as they turned and stared at Jimsey and me as we entered.
"Jeese, a girl," one announced, then stared down at the chart table they were all lined up against.
I stared down, too, naturally. On the chart table were their three cocks. Obviously, it was a measuring competition. They did not seem to have a lot of size-difference between them. But I could not help blushing at their embarrassment. They all stared at each other, then down at their cocks again, then over at me.
"Excuse us, we were deciding who would be first." The tallest man spoke so beautifully.
"Sing lads-sing it out." The coarser one of the three was determined not to be put off by my unexpected arrival.
All three suddenly looked up and sang at the tops of their voices:
' T'was aboard the good ship Venus
the mast was a rampant penis
The figure-head
Was a whore in bed
And the skipper a fucking genius.... '
Jimsey dragged me through the chartroom, past the three ardent vocalists. Obviously, there are times when it is best not to be introduced to people. We came into another corridor; a naked, girl lay across it. Her head was in a cabin on one side of the corridor, and her head was swaying backwards and forwards. Her naked waist vanished into the other cabin opposite the one her head was in. Her hips seemed to be doing a completely different rhythm to the movements of her head! Jimsey and I were as if turned to stone by the strange sets of vibrations that went through this naked girl. It was impossible to tell what was happening to her. Then, both Jimsey and I knew, and Jimsey swore most crudely.
We both had to step over this enthusiastic girl. She even gave us a wave of the hand as she went on busily working. The girl was fellating one young man in a bunk in one small cabin, while she was experiencing a busy tonguing herself in the other. The atmosphere of the yacht seemed to be highly sexually charged, and I was feeling some of the excitement myself. Jimsey led the way into the front cabin, where more orgiastic activities were in full swing.
"My goodness, we must be short of gals for her to take on two. I don't think we'd better try going through here. Let's get back on deck."
I peered past Jimsey as he spoke. The room seemed to be filled with blue tobacco fumes and writhing bodies. I also seemed to know one or two of the faces who peered back at us. The noise was very loud as a radio played and a girl was screaming out her orgasm thrills. Jimsey hurriedly closed the door and we went up another small companionway to the deck.
"Pretty busy. Gad, wonder what's going on aboard those others. This crew certainly started off early." Jimsey sighed and wiped his forehead. He seemed to be somewhat shaken by the sight and fury of the unleashed orgy. "I hope all of this doesn't shock you, Diana," Jimsey said as he held my breasts and helped me back onto the aft deck. "The lads are rather keen on their nooky, I'm afraid, and they just went off all so furiously there was no stopping them. Actually, it was the girl's fault as some ass of a gal started to strip off and parade about showing her mouse to everyone. That's what did it!"
While he was speaking to me, Jimsey had dropped his hand once again. It was pressing and fondling my thighs in that certain way that suggested Jimsey had also become enthusiastic for sporting ways. The whole scene we had just looked into was very exciting, and I knew that Jimsey was doing his best to control himself, so I did not protest about his hand, or his pressing fingers.
"Let's go and look at this next tub. It's Lord Greilles' boat, and she's a real luxurious job. The old fart is someplace with his old mistress. I expect he's trying to get a hard-on. These old lords are so randy; it must be frustrating to want nookey and not be able to raise the beat to dig into it. Gets all the cunt thrown at him, actually, but he has to suffer with just thinking what he ought to be able to do to it."
After giving me this information, and a fur ther enthusiastic rubbing that was beginning to interest me more and more, Jimsey took my hand, with his free hand, and led me over another wide gangway to the next yacht moored here in the private harbour of Lovelace Hall.
"Best go easily, as we don't want to start walking over people."
The next yacht was a long, wide one. In contrast to the vibrating orgies going on in the first yacht, this second one seemed perfectly peaceful, until we looked into one of the staterooms. Jimsey led the way through one door, along a short corridor, and then into a vast stateroom. There was the sound of ballet music, and a heavy scent of Chanel in the air. I was surprised by the red lighting. The very air seemed to pulsate with sensuality.
"The old fart is trying to get a hard-on!" Jimsey explained to me. "Where, I can't see?"
"Over there." Jimsey pointed then called out, "Hello there Lord Greilles, may we come in?"
"Who-ah, Jimsey, my lad. I am desperate. Come over here and look at this most succulent cunt. Did you ever see such a delicious piece of ass in all your life."
We approached a great round bed in the far comer of the stateroom. The floor was littered with ripped pieces of girls underwear. I observed a short black whip lying closer to the bed.
"Look, Jimsey, look, my boy!" came the voice again.
Charles, Lord Greilles, was grossly fat. He sat naked on his bed surrounded by red pillows. Before him was a girl, and as far as I could make out she was standing on her shoulders with her legs up in the air. Her legs were wide apart, and her cunt slit was a light pink cut right below Lord Greilles' face. His fingers parted the cunt and he peered into it as if inspecting a sea-shell opening.
"Beautiful little cunt you are." He slobbered over her.
"Rather jolly, what." Jimsey sounded nervous as we stood there watching Lord Greilles' inspection. "Charles, let me introduce Diana, Sir Peters' friend, who has just joined the party."
"How does she fuck, Jimsey?" Charles looked up, a great red fleshy face. "Pleased to meet you, my dear. We must get better acquainted later, over this weekend. I am not dangerous, so you needn't worry. Matter of fact with this," he slapped his gross fat belly, making it wobble and heave, "I really haven't seen my own cock for years and years. Has anyone seen a lost cock?" he joked and peered about.
Jimsey laughed. "I think you'll manage it, Charles."
"Later, my boy, with infinite patience, I might. Infinite patience is the thing, Diana. This upside-down girl is, I think, Lady June. Are you Lady June, me dear?" he asked down into the open cunt as if it were a speaking tube.
Slowly the legs lowered and the girl rested down flat on the bed. She was red in the face from all the blood having gone to her head. She closed her eyes and swore swiftly, then looked up at Jimsey.
"Hello, Jimsey. Do you see what this impotent old bastard is having me do?"
"Yes, June, dear. Meet Diana."
"Diana, hi-there. Don't let this castrated lecherous old fart' get his hands on you, Diana. He can only maul you about, and he has a habit of poking his nose right up your cunt and bubbling away like a dirty Turk!"
I stared at them both; there was something rather obscene about them. The girl could not have been more than twenty, and yet she was lying there showing all she had to everyone, so simply!
"I shall see you later, Diana, me dear girl. I expect you will have all sorts of exciting new things to interest me." Charles stared at me as he pawed steadily away at June. "I know you will be kind to me, and there's a special gift I have for girls who succeed in making me excited. Tell her about it, Jimsey, my boy. You wretch you. Owwh!" Charles ended by giving such a sudden shriek, I was startled into staring down at the obscene pair of them again. June had dug her fingers right into his fleshy belly and was seeming to rip the folds apart. This made Charles slap back at her and howl like a girl. It was all some part of their love-play, so Jimsey and I slowly stepped away into the blue smoke, the incense and perfume laden air, where the red glows of many lights made us feel more like human spirits lost in some Bacchanalian undershow.
"Charles is so gross! He's a direct descendant, comes down from the line of the Hanoverian Princes, so he is really a lecherous remnant of the bad old days-or were they the good bad old days?" Jimsey chuckled and led the way out of the stateroom, on into the next.
This motor-yacht was so vast. I never felt for a moment I was on board any sort of a ship. I think if the yacht my ex-husband, Samuel had sailed in had been as large as this one, I would never have got so sick and lonely. Here, there was all the room in the world to play, and laugh, and live, and have any number of orgies one ever cared to indulge in. One of the staterooms seemed almost as large as a football field.
"He sails down to Cannes Harbour once a year, then back here again, with a fresh crew of girls. Charles has a liking for Algerian girls at the moment. Lady June wants him to marry her-he's only thirty-eight, you know."
"Thirty-eight?" I was astonished.
"Surprised." Jimsey paused in a new corridor to kiss me and press against me. I could feel that his cock was hard, which was what Jimsey wanted me to know.
"Surprised at what?" I looked at him with a slight smile.
"Oh, at lots of things," Jimsey murmured as he massaged my mons through my dress with the palm of his hand pressing flat against me.
"You are excited," I murmured.
"Very! I am the rake of the harbour towns. Come to Lovelace for loving, is what I always say. Nice to be loved and loved, and loved! There isn't enough love in the world. So our generation has got to make up for that serious lack!"
Jimsey seemed amused as he said this to me. "I think it is going to be wild, this week-end," I answered.
"Going to be, Diana? It is wild, you mean." Jimsey gave me another kiss and a harder rub; then we went on into the next stateroom of this vast motor-yacht.
At first I thought this new stateroom was some kind of a gymnasium. There were bars on the walls, ropes from the ceiling, and a leather horse bolted down to the floor. Also there was a wide scattering of mats on the floor, the types of mats they use in a gym for landing on after jumping. Then a groaning noise came above the sound of the wild music from a large record player. The groan itself came from the far end on the room.
"Oh, blimey, there's some sadists here," Jimsey announced and seemed to hesitate about going on into the room. I was interested and pushed him on. Jimsey took my hand and led the way to where a group of three men were going through what I first took to be some kind of yoga exercises.
"Flower children of the world, welcome," one bland young man in a white towel robe spoke to us. "Welcome-oooch!"
"I say, Terence, is that hard enough?" another asked him.
"Do you mean my cock, or the ropes?" Terence replied.
"The ropes, dear fellow, the ropes. I know your cock is always hard! We shall start thrashing you soon. Hello Jimsey. Who is the lady? Does she fuck straight, or has she something new to offer?"
Jimsey seemed angry. "This is Diana, lads. Be polite. I don't think she fucks at all!"
This raised a tremendous shriek of laughter from all three. They were so wrapped up in torturing themselves and each other, that when they laughed it increased their agonies tenfold.
"Funny boy! A girl who does not fuck. Well, did you ever hear of such a useless idea?" They all shrieked with mirth again. "Don't make us laugh so much, Jimsey, it hurts. God-how it hurts!"
"I think you ought to say hello to Diana." Jimsey ordered the contorted and distorted trio.
"Hello Diana, the girl who does not." Terence grinned and wept as the ropes seemed to be almost pulling his arms out of his sockets.
"Come on, let's leave these three perverts." Jimsey took me by the hand and dragged me on, along the room, over the mats, past a couple who seemed locked in a dead still intimacy.
"Hello, Jordan," Jimsey called to the entwined couple.
"Hello, Jimsey." Came the crisp reply, but neither moved. I wondered who was doing what to the other. The voice did come from somewhere beneath the naked girl's thighs.
"This is Diana," Jimsey introduced me. ' 'Hello, Diana," came the voice again. "Is that right you don't fuck? You must be good at blowing then. I shall have to try you."
"She does fuck," Jimsey told the voice beneath the curved girl. "At least, I suppose she does."
"See you later, Diana." The voice faded off as if the mouth was busy elsewhere.
"Come along me girl, I think this orgy must be going on in every one of these damned boats." Jimsey took my breast and helped me into the next corridor. Then he suddenly turned and held me very tightly against him. His cock was hard and upright, so it felt like a thick roller between us.
"I am getting too hot. How about it?" Jimsey asked. I pushed his hand down from beneath my miniskirt.
"Later, Jimsey, dear," I told him. "I want to see what is going on in the other boats, first."
"Oh, Diana, I have a hell of a hard-on right now. Be such a pity to waste it, now wouldn't it?"
"It won't be wasted; I promise you that!" I told him as we kissed with our mouths lightly open. Our tongues met and rolled about each other. I knew if he pressed hard I would have given myself to him right there and then, in the corridor and on that spot. But Jimsey was as interested in seeing the boats as I was. In a few seconds he sighed, cuddled his arm about my waist, and nodded.
"Right, let's get along, then, before I split my cock open with desire for you. I must say, Diana, I am jolly glad you decided to come to my nice little tea party here at Lovelace Hall. I was feeling quite left out of all these good things when you and Sir Peters came rolling up so late. I am darned glad you made it here."
"Let's move on, Jimsey."
With that we moved across the wide corridor on the motor-yacht and came to the front stateroom. In the front stateroom were the drinkers. There were several crates of champagne on the floor, all filled, some of them not even opened. I sat down, as I felt in need for a drink, and Jimsey went to the busy bar and got me a gin. Jimsey had some organizing to do; then we would continue with our round of the other yachts. Meanwhile, I sat there and sipped the drink and nibbled at the ham sandwiches he had brought me.
As I sat there, I watched a very drunken young girl. She only had a dress on, and the two young men with her were slowly unzipping her dress and working it off her body. The girl was too drunk to be able to help them, but she giggled her approval and kept taking one of their hands and rubbing it between her legs up and down.
"Fuck me, please," she managed to announce and then lay back in a stupor.
The two young men were leaning over her, swaying, then they both placed their glasses down and sat beside her. The naked girl had a beautiful young body, and both young men seemed to struggle against their drunkenness. But slowly they both toppled over. One buried his face between the girl's fine breasts. The other seemed to slide down until his face vanished into the dark hairs of her crotch. Then all three seemed to fall asleep, becoming completely still. They made a wonderful frieze of orgiastic posture. The girl's legs enclosing the man's face, the other man between her noble breasts. I sat and slowly ate my ham sandwiches, sipped my drink, and felt better.
"Hello, Diana, shall we go on and see the other boats?" Jimsey had come back to me. I nodded enthusiastically.
"Those three seem out of it all. Nice posture." Jimsey made this comment as we got up and went past the sleeping trio. "I guess they will wake up and be a bit more active later on."
I have never cared for drunks over-much. They seem to lose their senses as soon as they have had a few. I prefer a man who either does not drink or, if he does drink, manages to hold his liquor well and properly. So many drunks just get into that state as an excuse. I do not even feel sorry for them. In fact, to be drunk at a really wild orgy party like this one was turning out to be, seemed to me to miss the whole point of the thing. After all, one can go and get drunk any time. A party like this does not happen every day. I was all for staying sober and enjoying myself, no matter what happened. I knew that I would be fucked, and I had come knowing that. But then, that is what an orgy is for. So we left the large stateroom and all the drinkers.
"The next yacht is Lady Melphs', and she is a devil of a dyke, Diana. Hold onto me or she will be having you as one of her girls, and training you up like she does her girls and her boxer dogs. She's a bit of a bitch, herself, so stay close."
We paused in the dark of the harbour. For we had come out onto the deck of the giant motor-yacht of Lord Greilles, and were now by the gangway over the water to the next yacht. This seemed quite small when compared to the motoryacht, but in fact it was quite a big boat. I fondled and kissed with Jimsey for several minutes before we once more moved on.
"This way to the dyke world of Lady Melphs." Jimsey chuckled and helped me over onto the next deck.
We found the way down into the main cabin of this new yacht. There was a wide stairway, and then double doors. The moment the doors were open, a fog of blue smoke and a strong scent of horses and dogs assailed my nostrils. I was strongly reminded of the stables that my sweet sister Trudy had run, and of her pet brute in the stables who had raped me all those years ago. I felt like turning and fleeing, right that second.
"Hold on, Diana, I shall guard you!" Jimsey was most reassuring. "Never worry, Jimsey is here. In fact, Jimsey will have to be right there before long, because Jimsey cannot hold out for much longer." Jimsey chuckled as he steered me into the smoky stateroom, and the wild weird world of Lady Melphs.
"Hello, Jimsey!" came a booming loud baritone voice as we entered the yacht's single giant room.
"Hello, Jackie," Jimsey shouted back in reply. "Meet Diana!"
"Oh, what have we here?" The baritone voice dropped a note and became sickly sweet. "Diana, that is a most interesting name, and I am sure the girl is absolutely fascinating. Did you bring her for me especially, Jimsey, you sweet child?"
Lady Melphs, Jackie, came thundering upon us. She was a huge woman whose great breasts were loose beneath a thick sweater. Her movements made those round loaf-like cakes of breasts heave and spread in a most fascinating way. I was so stunned by the sight of her great bosom, I hardly noticed her hand take hold of mine and squeeze it. I am afraid I gave an invol untary shudder and almost snatched my hand from her.
Jackie had a moustache! I stared at that next, for it was also as fascinating as were her loaflarge breasts. It was a distinct dark moustache, and I could imagine all the other hairy parts of her body having the same black bristles. I smiled and was instantly seized and hugged by immense manly arms. Jackie was not one for a formal period of getting to know each other.
"You sweet and precious little doll. What a wonderful creature you are. I am quite sure you have suffered very badly at the hands of these filthy male animals. You have been raped, haven't you, once or twice?" Her voice boomed into me.
"Yes." I was so shocked, I blurted it out, staring at her.
"Oh, how disgusting it must have been. To have some filthy beast of a man push his filthy thing right into you. Diana, my pet, you should have come to me before this. You should have come to me long, long ago. I know the pain. I know the degradation. I would have gone and horse-whipped the brute for you. Oh, my poor, poor pet of a dear sweet girl." Suddenly Jackie glared at Jimsey. "Was it you, you swine?" her booming voice demanded.
"No, it was long ago, not Jimsey." I went quickly to his rescue.
"Ah, Jimsey, thank you."
"Thanks for what, Jackie?"
"Thank you for bringing to me this beautiful, young, and defenseless creature! It was so good of you. We would have met some time or other, in any case. But Jimsey has made it now, for us, and now is so important!"
"It is?" I was still half stunned, and half throttled by her grip hugging me to her. "Please, I can't, I can't...."
"You can't speak of it, sweet child. I know, I know how it is." Jackie held me.
"No, I can't breathe when you hug me so tight," I protested.
"We are friends; we shall be lovers." Her voice dropped to a filthy low note.
"Damn it, Jackie, let go of Diana. I have to take her the rounds, first. We shall come back to you later."
"Take her through all of these ships, it's a disgusting thought. I do so wish I had time to go with you both." Jackie kissed me on the cheek. Then she suddenly released me so I staggered into the arms and support of Jimsey.
"Here, meet my gang of girls. Here is Lottie and Candy; over here are Taffy and Penny. You will love them all, in all ways, once you come back and join our wonderfully intimate menage, dear Diana. Say hello to Diana, girls," Jackie ordered in her baritone voice.
"Hello, Diana," they chorused all together.
I had not been aware of them all, but they had been lying there on the mountains of colored silk satin cushions, watching their noble mistress greet me. As I looked around, I though for a moment I was staring at a whole collection of semitame pussy cats. They all had such slanted feline eyes, and they all were naked or semi-naked. One or two had some quite severe whip-markings across their beautiful backs. Others were smoking, or sipping from glasses, with small pink tongues showing. But sexually, they were enough to make me shiver. A collection of several of the most sexy, vicious looking young girls I have ever seen in my life. One and all of them were staring at me, oval eyes semi-closed. Some seemed jealous, others fascinated, and their eyes gleamed; others were completely indifferent. I know my own sex, and these were the strangest collection of very beautiful and very young girls I have ever seen.
"You'll never want to leave me, sweet girls, will you?" Jackie boomed out at them. I noticed, incidentally, that she was holding a short black whip in her right hand as she said this. The girls' eyes all traveled with the motions of the whip being waved before them. They were at once terrified, yet sexually excited by the movements of this monstrous mistress of a dyke!
"No, Jackie, no, we'll never leave you!" they chorused, obediently.
"Sweet girls. I love you all."
"We all love you," they chanted back.
"What games shall we play?" Jackie advanced towards them.
"Oh, what games shall we play!" came the breathless reply.
"Come along, Diana, before the fun turns to fury," Jimsey whispered into my ear. He steered me along through the room, to the deck of the boat.
Here, in the dark, he suddenly pulled me right to him. I could feel Jimsey's tense body moving in an up and down motion against mine.
"My God! Diana, I have got to fuck you, please, please. We must fuck as my balls are aching like hells bells for you. I shall go nuts soon if we don't get down and start fucking properly like two normal people should!" Jimsey was desperately in want. I could tell by his hands prying at my pussy lips. His body was quivering and his cock seemed to be trying to lance a hole through his trouser front. "I shall explode soon. Diana, I need you so much!"
"Oh, Jimsey, what can I do to help you?" I sighed as I put my hands about his neck and resteu my body right against him. I opened my legs to allow him some delicious wriggles to help him realize that I too wanted to fuck.
"What shall we do, what shall we do?" Jimsey moaned and groaned.
I was silent. I could tell him. But then, it is never up to the girl to say "let's fuck" no matter how hot or how badly she wishes to do it. In some cases, perhaps, it is permissible. But in this case I quite determined to leave the initiative to Jimsey. He should know what to do, after all.
"God, I shall come if my cock as much as touches your cunt lips. I'll have to sublimate. We must sublimate. Sublimation is the order of it all. We shall have to go right away and see Shiva Yogolanda. He's the sex guru who helps us find the right positions for our hot sessions of transcendental copulation. This way, my sweet."
I had my hand on the hot hard mound of his cock, and Jimsey took hold of my breasts and cupped his hands about them, walking right behind me. With his cock pressing me on, his hands steering me by my tits, we started off into the sea-dark night. I was frightened we would miss the way to the guru, and end in that wet slot of cold ocean that lapped and hissed between each of these many yachts. But Jimsey knew which direction to take us in. We passed over five other boats, some of which were absolutely almost leaping out of the water with the rhythmic vibrations of what I just knew was communal fucking.
"Gad, Diana, this is a really successful orgy. Listen to those sexual maniacs fuck!" Jimsey commented. "They will stove out the bottom of the boats with the punding they are giving those girls' arses! My God, they will sink the whole fleet with their fucking. Gad, what a crew they are. No wonder they never put to sea for the yacht races. They haven't the strength left to tug a rope or a sail during the day. Wonderful wonderful lot of fuckers. Jolly good show, this orgy!"
So we strode on, stiff and tense, looking for the guru who might help us out of our predicament.
CHAPTER SIX
THE ORGY GIRLS
On the way to the boat with the guru in it, we got stuck. At least, we got stuck as if we were going to break. For at one point there was a narrow gangway over to a weird-shaped boat, and Jimsey prevented me from going on across to it.
"A moment, Diana. I think I am going to come!" he told me. "In fact, I am sure of it." He was leaning against my back and panting into my ear. Suddenly he released my breasts, swung me right about and held me tight against him.
"What are you doing, Jimsey?" I cried out.
"I am trying to remember the guru's words, on how to completely sublimate my hard-on! It's a hellish difficult thing to do, Diana!"
"Do you really want to?" I could not help wriggling my hips against his loins. For all that I had seen, and the many sensuous delights that were obviously, and often noisily, proceeding on about us had lit a hot flame within me, too. I thought it would be most ungentlemanly of Jimsey to come and leave me a bag of frustrations!
"We can have a quickie," I told him.
"Shall we?" Jimsey shuddered as my fingers held his hot cock out from his trousers. I rolled it between my legs and my pussy simply sucked it right home. Jimsey gave a gasp of relief and in two shuddering moves I could feel his pulsating come shooting up into me.
"This is a real knee-trembler. I hate fucking when one is standing up," Jimsey panted out to me between hot strokes and up thrusts. "It's oooh, there, oohhh, my balls hurt."
"You poor, poor dear." I kissed him wildly. But I was glad he had found some relief. We swayed together right on the edge of the boat. I think we might easily have fallen overboard into the sea, had not Jimsey thoughtfully held up his hand and grasped some piece of rigging. I noticed my torn panties were in his hand, and they fluttered like a maid-in-distress signal.
"Is that better, Jimsey, pet?" I asked him.
"Yes, bit better. I shall be hard-on again in half an hour, you wait and see."
"I hope so, pet, I do so hope so!" I told him. "I shall be in bed with you then, and it won't all go to silly waste like this fuck did."
"Well, if we can keep our feet together for a little while, we'd best move on and see this guru. I don't think he will find much for me to subli mate. But now we are here, we might as well see what sort of sexy things he's devised for his end of the orgy!"
We staggered to the narrow plankway and walked across to the large, Indian-shaped boat, home of the guru of the orgy.
"Omni-padmi-humm!" It was some kind on a chant. A lot of girls were sitting in the blue darkness inside the single giant cabin of the guru's craft. I rested against the half exhausted Jimsey as he closed the door. The chant went on and on. Gradually I realized that the girls were bare, naked save for a garland of flowers about their necks. The garlands of flowers swooped down and rested on their sets of nipples. There was a scent of incense in the air, and it was all very nice, fleshy, and peaceful, somehow.
"There he is," Jimsey murmured to me.
The guru was very thin, with long black hair. He sat with his feet twisted up, and there was a girl slowly bobbing her head up and down in his lap. I knew what she was doing, and it was worship of another sort.
"Aaaaah! Ooooh! Eeeh!" The guru's hands quivered in the air, then slowly fell down and rested on the bare buttocks of the girl blowing him. He smiled, closed his eyes, and rested his head back.
"That's not sublimation!" I told Jimsey firmly.
"No, no-I realize that."
"He's just come," I added thoughtfully.
"The girl is trying again," Jimsey pointed out.
"Maybe it is sublimation, or something."
"It's very interesting, after all." Keeping me tight to him, Jimsey moved us closer. "I think she is having another go at him."
"In the heart of the lotus, is the secret." Suddenly all the orgy girls chanted this out. It sounded like Oriental nonsense to me, but there was a slight frenzy note in the girls' voices as they kept the new chant going strong.
"In the heart of the lotus, is the secret." They echoed it out over and over again.
"What is in the heart of the lotus, Jimsey, some girls' mouth, or a cock, or a cunt?" I whispered to him.
"Diana!" Jimsey said with his shoulders shaking with wild laughter. "You shock me, my gal. Honestly, I never expected a pretty, innocent young thing like you to speak in such a coarse way. I think it's a blow job she is giving him after all. Unless she is trying to pump some life back into him. It's hard to say-all this smoke and smelly stuff makes the air so thick."
"The girls are playing with themselves while they watch," I told Jimsey.
"So they are! What a shocking waste of good cunt, hot young cunt, too. My, no wonder we are so short of girls on the other boats. All those spare cocks and these girls are busy at just playing with themselves. Why is it, this guru has managed to collect all the girls and keep them for himself. Diana, do you know?"
"I think it is the philosophical aspect of his teachings. Or else the mystical idea that life is for everyone and that there is some sense to it all. I don't know." I stopped speaking as the girl who was kneeling before the guru sat up and lay back. She did seem to have worked very hard. I could tell she was exhausted from her labours of love. Now I could see the immense cock the guru had sticking up out of his white loin cloth! I knew what the girls had come to worship, the moment I saw it.
"There, that's it!" I gasped out, fascinated, really.
"What is it?" Jimsey asked.
"His cock, that is what they are all here watching and worshipping. What a monster!"
"You mean to say they are all here to be fucked by this guru? I thought it was against the philosophy of his religion to fuck young girls."
"With that cock, who is going to argue?" I chuckled.
"Really, Diana, I think you are too earthy. These girls are here for moral and spiritual uplifting. They are not all waiting just because the holy man happens to have a larger than normal cock. I think there must be more to this guru business than that!"
"There well may be. But that is enough, to begin with." I smiled and contemplated the cock for myself. I think it was almost as big a one as I had ever seen; though, come to think of it, I had seen some very, very large ones. Thomas, in the stable, had a cock the size of a horse, but he had no skill at being able to use it properly. I shuddered as I remembered that weapon. For, all Thomas could do with it was to satisfy my horsey sister, Trudy, or else to ram it into me when he was raping me so actively that hot summer evening. This association of Thomas's cock and the guru's quite turned me off. I held tighter to Jimsey's arm and shuddered several times more, until at last the revulsion I felt managed to break my staring gaze at the guru's monstrous equipment.
"Let's get out of here, Jimsey. The incense is making me sick. I think she will start blowing him again, soon, and the rest of the girls are merely awaiting their turn." I told Jimsey the truth.
"That's a damned bad show, you know that, Diana. We shall have to break up this sexual meditation business. I can't have all those young cocks aching out there on the other boats, and these hot cunts all lined up waiting for one particular cock. It's not quite cricket, my girl, not cricket at all. Have to play the game fairly, don't we. I shall think about how we can disperse the girls about the other boats. Good orgy girls are too hard to get hold of, so I don't want to go and upset them in any way at all. If you have some idea how we can break it up and share them all out, without getting a damned Almighty row on our hands, I shall be pleased to carry it off."
"Get rid of the cock." I told him, my gaze going back to that giant thing.
"How can we get rid of that cock! Be practical, Diana. The cock is attached to the guru, and we can't go mutilating gurus and expecting to get away with such kind of stuff. No, we have to play the game. Just ought to be some kind of a dirty trick we can use here, but darned if I can think of it." Jimsey frowned as he listened to the stirring music of the sitars and the chanting, and the background slurp-slurp of the girls exciting themselves as they waited their turn at the guru's point of worship.
"Can tell the lads with hard-ons and no cunt around," I gave a light hearted suggestion.
"Gad! There would be a battle royal, and the old guru might well have his hampden kicked off in the fighting. Not that the dirty old s.o.b. doesn't deserve it, but I've the Lovelace Hall reputation to think of. Here, we all love, and love, and love."
"Why not pay one of the girls to bite him hard." I suggested what I considered to be a very practical idea. "Not too hard, but hard enough to take him away to the hospital. I've known it to happen."
"Diana! Where on earth did you get such an idea! It's shocking to say the least. You know something happened like that, did you say? Where, for goodness sake?"
"Oh, a friend of mine. He almost had his cock bitten off in Naples by an Italian girl-she used her back teeth, too."
"Ooooch! My goodness," Jimsey was such a charming, feeling man. He groaned in deep sympathy at the thought. "I bet it was most damnable agony. How many stitches did it take to repair the teeth marks?"
"Five, cross-stitch, too. He's rather proud of the scar. He likes to show it to every girl he meets. I think the guru would not be able to have that, as the girls are too hypnotized by him."
"Yes-think again, my pet. I bet you come up with some really nice idea to dislodge that guru and his circle of cock-worshippers!" Jimsey seemed to have all the confidence in the world in my ideas, I could tell that!
Once again the sexy atmosphere was beginning to affect me. I was feeling more and more like staying. I could see what so held the orgy girls here, waiting and watching the guru and his sacred sexual rituals. In all truth, I could quite easily have become one of the patient watchers, willing to wait and take my turn at going down before the Indian holyman and seeing whether he would appreciate all my oral efforts upon his masterly possession. But my sweet Jimsey would not allow anything like that. He, too, was beginning to feel a return of those urgent desires I thought we had assuaged for a while when coming here, on the boat next door. Jimsey's hands were about my breasts, and then one hand began slowly caressing my loins and I felt that I would have to get the sweet young man to bed in order to fully placate his hard interests in me. In his nice way, Jimsey's interests were now so hard his cock suddenly popped out from his trousers, and I spent several minutes fumbling and pushing on it before it was back and out of sight. I did not want the orgy girls to get any more sharing ideas into their empty heads.
"We had better go, quickly," Jimsey gasped to me. He had to almost drag me out onto the deck. It would seem the intimate religious fervor of the guru's worshippers were affecting my sweet young Jimsey as well as myself.
"Where shall we go, now?" I asked as we stumbled out onto that strange deck.
"We must share out the hot cunt. God, but that's the most vital task of the moment."
Dear Jimsey's words confused me. I was already prepared for something else. I pouted and held against Jimsey for a moment. "Do we have to, darling?" I asked him as I felt his cock so pressing against me I was breathless with more urgent tasks than Jimsey was considering. "Isn't there something else really needing attention?"
"There is? What is it?"
I groaned aloud as I held him tighter to me.
"I want you to go to the orgy girls, they are with the guru," Jimsey was telling Yolanda, who had recovered from her session with her strong lover.
"The guru-I don't get that guff." Yolanda flashed me a smile and drained half a glass of good brandy in one swing. "They're all phony, those orientals."
"They may or may not be, but our guru has all the orgy girls stuck there on his boat. You must get out there. I have a brilliant idea," Jimsey announced proudly. I stared at him, pouting with want.
"So have I, but it is waiting fulfillment," I announced.
"Good, but mine first." Jimsey kissed me quickly on the cheek, caressed my breasts and went on speaking to Yolanda while he was still fondling me quicker and quicker.
"Listen, Yolanda. Go out to the guru's boat and spread the word. Tell the girls a real guru is arriving right now on the quay, and he is even better equipped than the guru, here, to spread good feeling, love, and friendship around. Tell them the new guru is magnificently made and capable of making them all very happy with his new guru words and his new guru positions. Now I shall go around and tell the chaps that the girls will be leaving the guru boat and trying to get to the quay. So the moment you go there and tell them, our fellows will be out hunting orgy girls on every boat. I don't think one of them will even reach the quay to see whether or not there is such a person as a new guru."
"Wonderful idea, Jimsey," I laughed delightedly. This might give me an opportunity of sneaking in there, later, and having that guru to myself a while. "I thing you are a genius!"
Yolanda swilled off another half-beaker of brandy, then laughed coarsely. "I shall show those bitches where the boys with the hot cocks are. Just let me at them. A new guru, eh; that will make them move their little arses." Yolanda stood up, belched, and went off heading for the guru's boat.
Jimsey soon had the lonely men of the party out. There were some twenty virile orgy men in the dark, scattered about the boats. Jimsey and I were clinging to each other in the dark. I was listening to the music belting out from one of the boats. Then a cry came, and another. The orgy girls were heading for the quay. The idea had worked. The men now were hunting the girls, grabbing them and dragging them below. Fights, cursing, shrieks, and the noise of fucking began to beat the sound of the music. The girls put up a good fight, but the men had been waiting full of eager lusts. And the girls were hot enough to know when to give up and join.
"Jimsey-it worked," I cried out in delight and flung my arms about him.
"Yes, now, come on. This way." Jimsey picked me up and half carried me down a companionway. He kicked open a cabin door. Somehow Jimsey had known all the time where there was an empty cabin with a large empty bed in it. It was his own cabin, of course, which I found out later. He swept me in, placed me on the bed, and in a few seconds we were naked, locked about each other, and Jimsey was only able to huff and puff.
"Ooh, ooh, ohh! Jimsey, what a lovely cock. Fuck me, fuck me right through the night." I locked about him, my knees close to his chest. I could feel his thick cock ramming in and out of my slit, making me boil and come and come. "I love it, oh, how I do love it."
"I am glad," Jimsey puffed. "I think it's there. I think I am going to come again. Oh, yes, my dear." Jimsey swayed right into me, and I was beyond thought as our flesh just melted into and about each other.
Perfection does not happen often. But when sexual perfection happens, there are moments when one is neither here, nor there, but just being tossed and glowing and, really, right at the loving end of everything.
This was what happened with Jimsey and me, the night of the orgy girls.
I heard later from Yolanda what happened on the guru's boat. She went out there in a semidrunken rage. Her great announcement about a red-hot new Indian guru certainly did the trick. All the girls pulled their dresses on and took off for the quay. Even the red-haired girl whose turn it was to worship at the giru's font of life deserted him, and at a most crucial moment. The guru completely lost his cool. He gave a great wail that drowned the sitar music. Then he hobbled across to where Yolanda sat laughing at him.
"What is it that has happened? Why do the girls go running away from me. Am I diseased or something that they fell so suddenly. Tell me my poor girl, what is it?"
Yolanda stared at his monstrous cock and managed to stop her coarse laughter. She waved at the doorway out to the steps leading up to the deck. "I was told a new guru had arrived, and he had a bigger cock than you have!" Yolanda shouted at him.
"What is that you say?" The guru went over and kicked the sitar player who drunkenly fell flat on his face. "A new guru has arrived?"
"With a bigger cock!" Yolanda added with venom.
"That is not possible," the guru raved wildly. "Why-is your the biggest out of India?"
"I mean, I am a true guru."
"So might he be, for all you know," Yolanda told him.
"He is a fraud, come to rob me of my women!" The guru went into a rage. Suddenly, he snatched out a large knife, gave a howl, and went rushing out.
Yolanda got up and staggered after him, to see the fun. The guru was leaping from boat to boat, crying out and waving his large knife, as well as his gross cock, in the cold night air. Yolanda had to fight off three lovers before she reached the quay. There she sat down and waited. The guru was racing around and around, shouting out nasty words. Then the guru gave a great shout. He had seen something in the woods beyond Lovelace Hall. He screamed with rage and rushed off, pursuing some very frightened deer right into the heart of the vast New Forest.
Yolanda sat there and sighed. All about her the orgy was really swinging now that there were plenty of fresh, hot girls in circulation. In a way, Yolanda felt she had done herself and her opportunities a disservice by releasing such a tide of new talent. She grumbled and sat there.
"I think you ought to come back. You have the biggest cock here, anyway." Yolanda called softly into the night. But her guru was now in the wilds of the New Forest, leaping after ponies and chasing scared deer to the hills. Yolanda got up and was wandering back, when a large Swede suddenly rose from a hatchway.
"Ahah-ve vait for you," he called to her.
"So, you missed me." Yolanda swung his way, not too quickly, but not too slowly, either.
His arm came about her and picked her up. He took her down into the cabin where there were two other lonely men.
"Well," Yolanda commented later. "What can one do, with three men all desperate to get their nooky and give a girl a really good time." She winked and sighed. "Everything, honey-just about everything you can think of, and then a few more I never knew about. Three is not a crowd, you know. Three is nonstop variety, that's what three are."
Yolanda sighed. "But that guru fellow, he did kind of interest me. I think we girls ought to organize a search party and go out and see what happened to him. After all, a real Indian guru, rushing through the New Forest at dead of night, and waving a kukri-and anything else he might have-that's enough to surprise anyone, isn't it?"
CHAPTER SEVEN
DISCOTHEQUE ORGIES
"Hey there-orgy girl, I got a date for us." Sir Peters had called me on the telephone again. I was pleased to hear his voice. "What happened to you down at Lovelace Hall? I lost you the moment I arrived. Did Jimsey take good care of you, Diana?"
"Fine, Pete, fine. I had a really wild time." I spoke carefully so as not to upset Sir Peters. He was a dear friend, and he was having so much sexual trouble with his peter; that prostate gland of his was getting worse and worse. "How's your trouble, Pete? Are you going to get it seen to, you naughty boy?"
"I'm dead scared of it, Diana. In fact, I am scared those darned blighters will castrate me, and then, hell, what would be my life without the joys of gals and copulation? I ask you, Diana. You know what a good loving soul I am."
"Did you say you have another date for us?" I changed the subject. Poor Sir Peters was worried enough about it all.
"Yes, going to be a musicians party at Rouse Hall. I was always told never to take my harp to a party, but I think they want some harpies there, so we might as well go." He chuckled at his sharp humor.
"I don't like that, Pete," I said sternly. "I am not a harpy. I think perhaps you ought to take someone else."
"Oh, my dear Diana, gal, we're too old friends for you to take umbrage at a silly little play with words, surely, my dear? I mean, I thought 'take my harpy to a musicians party' was a pretty good effort. Why so touchy, me dear? Worried, or something?"
"No, yes, well, we shall go. I think some good music might do me some good. I have been feeling like a nun lately," I murmured.
"Have you? By jove, that's dangerous. I say old girl, maybe you let that dreadful Lady Jackie Melphs influence you." He chuckled dryly.
"You are in a nasty mood, Pete. I don't think I shall go with you." I was firmly determined.
"Then I shall have to take my dear Yolanda."
"I shall go with you." I changed my mind instantly.
"Good, be Friday again, at six, and we have to get along to Rouse Hall, it's in Lincolnshire some place, vast barn. I do hope I have got it right, and that there is a real musical orgy. I'd hate to drive all that way and have to listen to music! That would be a terrible fate, indeed!"
We both laughed, and I knew that our trip was going to be another great success. In a way, I loved old Sir Peters. He was a gentleman, and a lover, and a gentle man. I was but one of his many, many true and ardent mistresses. And I was glad to be one of them. Men like Sir Peters are so rare. I had been fortunate to meet him when I did. And since my return to England after the failure of my marriage, he and his orgy parties had really been the spice of my life.
I replaced the telephone and sat down with a bemused smile on my face. A musical orgy! I would have to buy a new dress for it all. Not that I might wear it for long, but it is always good for a girl to start off with the right idea. Even if it all turns out to be unnecessary clothing, later.
So it was to Rouse Hall we would go, come Friday evening.
It was a great big Hall, with a fine approach. The place was lit by torches, for some reason. In the drizzling rain-it rained the whole time we were there-the torches hissed and sputtered. Inside the Hall it was all candle light. I never did meet the host. The musicians were too busy making the whole thing a swinging party.
I loved the place, with its many crenelles and its cornices. It was a super fairyland, inhabited by gnomes and pixies. The gnomes played the clarinet, and the pixies pranced about with violins, trumpets, flutes, and drums. The nest for all of these strange creatures was at the back of the Hall. On the rear lawn, as if they knew it was going to rain solidly the whole time, was erected a large red and cream stripped marquise tent. It was an enormous tent, and was split into several rooms, in each of which was being played different music. The same went for the main rooms in the Hall itself. Gradually, as the weekend warmed up from the slow beginning on Saturday, the place became wilder and wilder. In fact, it was one gigantic, pulsating discotheque in the end. But the orgy girls had arrived, and there was sex and music being performed all over the place.
Yet, my own mood did not change. I was in a slow spiral of depression. I needed someone. Sir Peters was ill, and stayed in a bed on the second floor, surrounded by quiet admirers, sipping brandy to hide his pain. I was mooching about, and the rain came, while the music thundered on and on. It was a strange, beleaguered world. I was not certain that I cared for it. I was not certain of anything now. I was not even sure I cared for myself. And is that what happens in the end? Is it this that creeps up and destroys an orgy girl?
I did not know.
But I was afraid. For it was the first time I had ever come to doubt myself. I knew I had got over my illnesses. I had got over wanting to be loved and loved. I was Diana again, firmly and clearly. I knew how to satisfy any man. I knew Sir Peters loved me. I knew I had a dozen other admirers. But I was not certain of one thing. I sensed that perhaps my orgy girl's days were over. And that was a surprise. What else was there for me to do?
I was leaning against a column, listening to a group singing in the style of the Beatles when Bruce came into my life. I did not even bother to turn my head. It could have been a real he-man, it could have been another wonderfully bronzed jungle-taming giant, but I knew it was not. Bruce was a quiet creep. And he was just what I needed that moment. I was resting back, sipping my champagne, and wondering how much Sir Peters really would miss this wild and glorious life of orgy after orgy, when the voice spoke to me.
"I, er, I say, excuse me, but what are those two doing over there? I mean-is it what I think they are doing?" His voice was pleasant, reticent, a creep, in all truth. But who is not a creep some time or other. I felt in need of one to argue and fight with.
"They are fucking, as usual," I said with a sour grimace.
"Excuse me, what did you say?" His voice was up a note.
"I said they were fucking." I announced it loudly enough. "Do you wish me to spell it? It's spelled with one 'k'-it goes f-u-c-."
"I know, er, I was just, well, surprised. A beautiful girl like you, saying-they are fucking, too, aren't they? Do they do it often, here?"
"They fuck everywhere. That's my friend Yolanda, and she fucks seven times a week. Like to try her?"
"Oh, no. I am sorry. Yes, well, tell me Miss...." He did not seem to want to wander away and leave me in peace.
"Diana, my name. I fuck, too." I turned and looked at him.
He was nice. I could have bitten my tongue off. In some ways he seemed a quieter version, younger too, of Sir Peters. I was so surprised I just stared at him.
"Hello, Diana, I am Bruce." He smiled at me. Large brown eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses. They were kind eyes, calm eyes that were involved and concerned and hurt me like two large brown spears in my heart. It was as if something within me said "Oh no!" And I was defenseless against him. This mild square even offered his hand, so we shook hands on our mutual introduction.
"I am Bruce," he stated again.
"Yes, I am Diana and I, er," I flushed a furious great red.
"It is a wild party, Diana. I suppose, well, one gets used to this sort of thing."
I nodded. I was furious. My tongue had suddenly stopped on me. I could not speak, and I wished myself any place-just to be away from this, this person who had appeared and lanced my ego with one look. This was the way Bruce and I got acquainted.
The modern psychedelic world is for the young. At twenty six, I felt that I was already growing out of that stage. But the music was of my generation. Those swirling colors, the Beardsley drawings, the beads, the Ankh, the miniskirt-there has been no other style for me, not for an orgy girl. I might be more formal for the parties at the great houses, but the music and the dances are always the same. In a way, it is a very unstable world. Many of the young men I have slept with were wanderers, seekers; they even went to Indian Temples, or all the way to India itself to find the message, and returned as easily as they came, wiser in ways, but not with any real rock of truth.
Perhaps in some way it was these influences that made me become an orgy girl in the first place. I had never had a stable home-Mum and Dad were always off to Hong Kong, or Australia, or India. Their lives came first, and their children's upbringing came second. If I met my mother, which I rarely did, she was a polite, tea sipping stranger. Trudy, I never saw. I left her to copulate with her brute, Thomas, in her beloved horse stables. So what else was there but the image of the modern world to embrace. All the beads and the trimmings. All the pop-art and the latest hit tunes. The bright colors, the swinging life, these had been all I had.
In my marriage it had been just as bad. Opening tins of plum pudding in the wilds of the South Seas sounds very romantic. It sounds a free, wild life with no cares. In fact, it is empty, being alone and looking at vast spaces of nothing. If one is cut that way, good and fine. But I am a city girl, and I like having a city to love in. I like constant hot water from my taps, and a telephone that connects to friends and not to kangaroos.
At this point I knew I had come to a very real cross-roads. I was honest, not only with myself, but with Bruce. I could not seem to be what I was not. I did not wish any relationship to be based on something false. In some ways, I felt that had been the cause of the breakdown of my first marriage. Though, finding out later I was Sam's third wife has assuaged the hurt a great deal. If two other girls had hit disaster with this man, possibly it would take an extraordinary person to succeed with him. I knew I was still very beautiful-not in the first young flush, of course-but in a mature, firm way now. I could make a man fall in love with me. I knew how.
Men are very simple really. I have always personally preferred male company to female. I knew men better, but I shall never understand them, except on a few points. One of the things I had found out was basically sexual. If I slept with a man consistently over a period of a few weeks, he fell deeply and hopelessly in love with me. I think it's because I am good in bed. Psychologists say it is something to do with the voice, and something to do with the body scent. I have read a great deal about the basis of attraction between male and female. They do sound amazingly basic, too!
But I did not want to go the route, this way, by deep hard fucking, with Bruce. I found him a bore. He was such a square I could do nothing but sit and watch him.
I was astounded.
On our first meeting, within a few minutes, I had fallen for this dumb, brown-eyed square.
Why? Is a good question. I asked it of myself a hundred times.
The discotheque orgy went wild on Sunday night. I had mooned about with Bruce for two days. We had kissed, and I had managed to undo his tie. I was now comparing him with all the men I had ever known. That in itself seemed like subjecting myself to some kind of self-analysis. Not a few of those men had really been nothing more than hot cocks. I had to admit that to myself. They were sexy bastards who just wished to bed a girl and fuck and fuck. I had enjoyed all of that, without a thought in my head.
"I am an electronics engineer, and I have my own factory," Bruce told me as we entered the tent. It was raining outside, and the torches were hissing and going out all the time. "It's very strange to see young people act the way they do today."
"You are old fashioned?" I asked as we got a drink and stood still for a moment to get used to the thundering music.
"What was that?" Bruce grinned and shouted. "You are very beautiful, Diana."
"Thank you," I shouted back.
We moved through the crowd and got to the floor, which was laid over the grass. The orgy girls were warming up. Two of them were naked and dancing with their legs flying. Later they would leap on their mates and the couples would singly fall onto the floor and writhe in a copulation set to the music beat. Bruce looked flushed and sipped his drink. I was wondering just how long it would take to work him up.
"I am an orgy girl," I shouted at him.
"A what?" Bruce asked.
"An orgy girl. I am one of them."
"Oh, are you really?" Bruce stared at me, puzzled. Then he added, "Do you wish to dance, Diana?"
I nodded. We put our drinks down and joined the tight throng that was slowly getting pounded into neurotic pieces by the blasting music. Bruce danced badly, of course. He seemed to try and not be with it. I realized he would dance badly, but he was worse than I thought he would be. I seemed to have landed a wet fish. But I was so tied up with him, I could even accept his hopelessly poor flopping about with me, not demand better, not even give a damn what anyone else thought. If that is not love, then music must mean less to me than I thought.
Yet, gradually, in some strange way, we fitted. Bruce seemed to relax and he was with me. I felt comfortable with him around, and Bruce said afterwards he had never had such a wild time in all of his life. I was something strange for him, as he was for me. At the time, I was puzzled just what exactly was going on between us. I only knew Bruce had this weird fascination for me, and I for him. In fact, we matched, but in the first days of our meeting I never, never would have believed it at all.
Bruce almost fell over a couple humping on the floor. The boy was dripping sweat over the girl's shoulders as she clung to him, her skirt up, and his cock right into her as her legs locked and held about his waist. Bruce stared down at them and tried to jump out of their way. He almost fell over the next couple, fucking on the floor in a darker area. Then he stared at me, shook his head, and took my hand. Bruce led the way out, and for a moment we stood under the awning, with the rain streaming down before our faces.
"They've got bad tweeters, and the bass is all out of balance," Bruce announced seriously.
"Have they?" I gave a cry of laughter. "Is that all?"
"I must say, this party is a bit much. I hate to, er, well, step on an intimate scene like that.
Let's go and listen to that chamber music. I think there is some food on the buffet in the hall." He took my hand and we dashed through the rain back into Rouse Hall and yet another orgy.
One on a bed is sleep; two on a bed is loving; four on a bed is swapping; six on a large bed is an orgy. The six on the large bed were so busy fucking, Bruce and I just stood and stared at them.
On the red Chamber Music Quartette Dais, the Luton Ensemble had left its violins, cello, and piano. On the bed they were making another kind of music.
"Bach seems out, and cock seems in," I told Bruce as I sipped from my glass and looked at his face to watch his reaction.
"It seems to me that music would be more in good taste." Bruce flushed, took my hand, and led me out of the Chamber Music Room.
"I think the orgy girls are making this whole place get too wild. I know them, and they like to make a place a shambles and then go back to town and say what a sexy party it all was," I explained to Bruce. "I have done the same thing myself."
Bruce paused. We had come down to the hall, and were helping ourselves to slices of prime beef, salad, and coffee. He stared at me, adjusted his glasses, and then spoke quietly. The piped music was down low, so normal conversation could go on. His voice was dry, not with contempt, but with analysis.
"You try and shock me all the time. Perhaps you are as you state you are. I don't mind. Diana, we met yesterday, and I think you don't understand me. I am an engineer, and we engineers are not people of wonderful imaginations. We use mathematics to find out what we wish to know. The world is all here, and we just search and putter about until something odd gives us an insight into a new item. I have never bothered much with modern ways, modern girls, this, er, orgy kind of thing. If you had not been here, I would have left an hour after I arrived."
"You are smug," I told him straight.
"Certainly. I am rich, smug, and happy." Bruce led the way to a side table. It seemed startlingly strange to sit here and think of all the wild sessions going on all around us, in those other rooms, in the tent out there beyond the pouring rain.
"I don't care if you are rich. Anyway, I wanted to find someone to sleep with." I announced it coldly.
"There you are, out to shock me again." Bruce frowned and ate his beef sandwich. He chewed in silence a while. I sipped my coffee, lit a cigarette, and felt a world better.
"No. I am not out to shock you. I shall sleep with you, if you want me to. Otherwise I shall go and find someone else. I don't like sleeping by myself," I ended simply enough.
Bruce paused and stared at me. It was a moment or two before he replied. "You mean it."
"Yes, I do mean it." I tapped my cigarette ash down.
"Oh, I misunderstood the whole thing. You are very beautiful. I was thinking, well, I am not very good with words, Diana. But I couldn't bear the thought of you, er, sleeping with anyone. I mean, I feel we have something. Maybe it is only something that I feel. It is this place, perhaps."
"If you have a bed somewhere else, there is nothing holding me here." I looked at him coolly, but I had a great butterfly inside of me.
"You wish to go?" Bruce nodded and went on eating slowly.
I had wandered with the wild, free crowd for so long; this was all in direct contrast to them. I watched as Bruce finished eating and smiled.
"Shall we go, now?" Bruce asked so quietly it was almost a sad whisper.
"Where to, Bruce?" I felt I now was winning the trick.
"I have a cottage on the river, about thirty miles from here. We can be there in twenty minutes, if you still wish to leave?" He lit a small cigar and relaxed. His patience was infuriating, but I refused to allow him to upset me now.
"Very well. I have to leave a note for Sir Peters, and collect my things. Ten minutes is all I need," I told him as we stood up.
"I shall have my car out front waiting for you." He suddenly leaned across and kissed me on the cheek. "You sure, Diana?"
"Why not?" I smiled and went off to get ready.
But, it was different. I was not so sure now. I thought, perhaps I should leave him waiting in his car outside Rouse Hall. He would wait an hour, and then either give up, drive off, or come back in here and drag me out. I giggled at that idea, but I also felt certain that that was what he would do. No, he might come back in and completely ignore me. Then what? I would be upset and as lonely as hell, all over again.
I told Sir Peters. He lay in bed, no girls, just a bottle of champagne. He worried me, and I asked him if I should stay and see that he was alright.
"Nonsense, nonsense, my dear! Go with him and have a damned good time. This rain is ruining everything. I am going into the hospital next week, so give me a tinkle and come and see me, what?" Sir Peters smiled as I kissed him on the cheek. "He's a very lucky feller, this new chappie of yours, Diana. Tell him so from me."
"I love you, Petesy," I whispered and flushed red.
"Too old for you, my dear. Got no cock left. Have to have the knife as this pain is killing me. Gad, we should have got together at least twenty five years ago." Pete hugged my hand and then released it with a smile. "Take care of him."
I fled down the great staircase and went out onto the front porch. The rain was like silver lines of water falling down onto the steps. Behind me, Rouse Hall was a thundering discotheque orgy and all the girls were half-killing the men. Nothing but sex and sex and the psychedelic world of half insanity. I shuddered and stood there, half lost myself.
A black, new Aston Martin rolled up and stopped. Bruce came out in a hurry and opened the door for me to get in. Then we were off into the dark wet world of the rain in the night.
"It was rather a bright party." Bruce chuckled as he changed gears and we were zooming along at an incredible speed. "I think orgies are better read about than participated in. One can close a book on them and say, 'how damnably degenerate'. But when it is going on in one's own generation, what can one do." He glanced quickly at me for a second. "You are terrifyingly beautiful, Diana. My mystery woman. Hell, you scare me half to pieces."
I turned my head and looked at Bruce. I was no longer unsure. I had arrived. Quite what at, or where, I still did not know. But I had arrived at a point. I only wanted him to love me a tiny fraction as much as I loved him. And, now, I was the one terrified by the whole thing.
The car was a super beast. It leaped into the night like a black devil, a panther or a night-hidden tiger. Yet, Bruce was such a fine driver, I never had the slightest worry about him, or the car, even in this weather.
"Be there in a few minutes. This is my retreat, my special sanctum where I come to think. In a way, you are coming into my world, Diana, and I think we already know why."
The headlights were on a small white cottage. I felt, in some other life, I had been to this place before. From that moment, everything was as inevitable as some card play already agreed upon.
CHAPTER EIGHT
PRIVATE LOVING
Bruce's cottage was an electronic masterpiece. It was warm, cozy, and filled with everything a very rich young man could ever wish for. I think Bruce had never meant to marry, for there were, and still are, many deeply set bachelor patterns in his make-up. It is like the old English saying:
"Marry a man before thirty, no more, Or he is set for ever, sure."
And in a whole mountain of irritating things, Bruce was set. He was a square, a conservative, a bigot, went to church on Sunday, was a Rotarian, also a Mason, and liked to think of himself as controlling a small electronic empire-where there were only five people, but also five factories of machines making machines.
In this last part, the factory, I saw the real Bruce. He was not of today. He was somehow, part of something that was happening in the future. Bruce was the future. He had his automation factories. He had his new things that went into American rockets and helped take pictures of Mars and probe the heart of Venus. I was so surprised when I began understanding just a little of what he was doing.
Every woman who falls in love with a man has to think that her man is something very, very special. Because he is, always, to her. I started off by feeling completely the opposite about Bruce. Yet, I had fallen in love with him. It would have made no difference to me if he was nothing, if he had been a shoe and boot salesman. I would still have loved him. But when I started into his world, I knew it was something vaster and more exciting than anything I could ever have visualised as being the world of the man I loved.
"Won't be a minute, just see if there are any messages for me." Bruce had poured us each a brandy. I held my giant goblet and watched him. The room was small, with colors everywhere, and very old fashioned. But hidden away were many things.
"Hello, Bruce here, messages for me?" He had opened a walnut cabinet and switched on a dial.
There were messages for him-from many parts of the world. It was as if the world had arrived in this small room. Outside, in flat Lincolnshire, the rain might fall in solid sheets, but in here the world was as close as a switch on a dial.
"Are you a spy?" I asked as Bruce came back to me from his work.
"No, not me. I am neutral. At least, I am on the side of humanity. I think we have to have freedom, and I think we have to have, perhaps, more intelligence than we yet possess. I am involved; that is the word. I am involved with life, and people, and communications. In some ways I am a communications philosopher; that's what they tell me. I try and shape the world for safety, reason, and survival. That is one of my great worries, to see our world survive, to see it does not blow itself to pieces."
"You are thirty, Bruce, how can you possibly, well, I don't see how you can help-an enormous thing like that?" I stared at him.
"Communications! The handing out of knowledge, the path to the stars, the progress of people. I want us to be out of starvation, away from wars, clear of-sorry, I am off on my dialogue. It's impressive, and it's true, but-Diana, you are one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever met."
His large brown eyes stared at me. They were the eyes of a small boy, somehow.
"I love you," Bruce announced suddenly. "It is not a rational thing. All of my life I have been dealing with the rational beggarly behavior of the negative ion. I can see why I love you. It's to do with some kind of desperate beauty, some kind of damned sadness they have beaten into you. But, it's not pity, it's not feeling sorry for a wet dog. I am the victim, and I'm damned if I understand why I should be so greatly pleased at it. But having you here makes me very happy, stupidly so. I am not a stupid man. At least, I never have been until last Friday night. I expect plenty of men have told you this. It just, well, happens to be true in my case."
"Let's go to bed." I smiled. "I have a great deal to tell you, some time or other, and like this, Bruce, dear, it's very cold to say things, apart from each other."
"Yes, let's go to bed." Bruce stood up, placed his glass down carefully. I noticed how meticulous he always was. Bruce kissed me lightly on the cheek; then, holding my hand, he led the way to a very steep staircase.
"We've only one bedroom here. I had the place modernized as best as I could. Really, it's a bachelors pad, nothing more. You make me start apologizing for everything, damn it. Let's go to bed and see what it is all about!"
I sat on the edge of the bed and listened as Bruce spoke. He was undressing and seemed to be very slow at it. The sexual excitement I had always had to have was not there. It was some thing else, a kind of brooding happiness. I did not worry about tomorrow. Not that I ever have. Only once, yes, I did, when I had to escape from Sam in order to survive. Then I worried, because I loved Sam, and I knew it was the end of my marriage. I would have to tell Bruce all of these things, perhaps, one day. I do not know. It is always said that it is best not to speak of what was. Old loves and old affairs are something that meant a great deal. Time will not change the feelings that were then. The person who was involved in that loving, in that marriage, was another Diana. I knew that, and I decided there and then that I would never speak of it, only mention that I was divorced and that my marriage had been a disaster, for me.
Bruce came out in his pajamas. He looked too neat. I was amused as I spoke. "You seem to be set to sleep the night."
"Oh? Well, it might get chilly." He stopped and suddenly went a slight pink. "I am blushing, do you notice it?"
"Yes. What's it for?" I asked him very amused by his boyishness.
"I-love you. I think that's what it is." He sat down on the bed next to me as if to confess to me a whole list of wrong-doings, and loving me being the key one. Instead, we kissed, and I turned slowly towards him, opening my arms and holding him to me. I was waiting for something, and I was not certain what that something might turn out to be!
Bruce kissed me slowly, and then I slipped off my gown and lay in his arms, toying with the buttons of his pajamas. Bruce sighed, took off his glasses and turned out the light. He kissed my body slowly and deliberately, and I could feel he was unwilling to move beyond a certain point. But for once in my life I did not want to take the initiative, so I accepted his kisses, and held him close. He was gentle. It was nice to get to know Bruce. I was so intensely aware of everything about him. I could not see why. He was not that handsome, nor that tall. Nor had he swept me off my feet and carried me to some bed to plunge immediately into furious love making. Bruce was easy going, at peace with himself, and in no particular hurry to take me as a sex companion.
"I'll take these off; it's too darned hot!" Bruce announced and stripped his pajamas off at last. His naked body was nice and firm. It had a scent of talc and lavender, faintly. I kissed his shoulder as he put his arms about me and the sheet came over us.
Nothing more happened. I rested there, content, and in a while I slept. Bruce was holding me. I seemed to feel that Bruce was some solidity, some new world that could hold me and keep me forever. I was surprised to feel such a spring of gladness within myself to at last have reached such a safe harbouring. All the hot sexual flesh and the plunging cocks, the sexual orgies and the fierce hours of passion in my life were stripped and cast away. I was with Bruce, and I was his.
If he threw me out on the morrow, it was still all worthwhile. I could say that I had gotten to a point once where love was. It was simple. One loved a person, and the sex part was something else that was exterior and not of the two people holding each other this moment. But it was important. I knew I had to have him possess me some time or other. I had to experience what loving with Bruce was like. A woman is one third flesh, one third dreams, and one third reality. I loved Bruce, and needed him, and in true orgygirl Diana fashion, I needed his cock busy in me. But it was all a balance, and no single part of it more than any other part. In a way, I knew I had matured, and that love was something not of the flesh, but more of the spirit. At least, this love I had for Bruce seemed very much so.
"You terrify me," Bruce suddenly whispered to me out of the warm dark. His arms held me lightly to him. He kissed my nipples, first one, then the other. I sighed and felt a cool shudder run right down my spine to the tips of my toes.
"I terrify you, Bruce? Why?" I said.
"You are very beautiful. I never expected to run into a woman so full, and mature, and terrifyingly beautiful. I didn't think it ever happened."
I turned towards him and pulled his body right against mine. I could feel the hard stalk of his cock pressing against me. Desire was there, and it was like a slow fire that bubbles and smoulders and smoked and fumed and grew into an intensity that would eventually come and steal my breath and my heart away.
"Tell me all about it, Bruce, dear!" I kissed his forehead.
"I went to the musical party at Rouse Hall because I was free Friday evening, and I had been asked to come by several people. Then, I saw you. I saw you, and there was nothing else. I seemed to have got some kind of focus that only saw you. I saw your look, your hair, your eyes. I was stunned and could not make out who the devil you were. I was so positive I knew you. I thought you might be a television actress, or else someone I had met at a party some other place."
"I am-I was-an orgy girl. Diana ef the wild life. I am rather ashamed of it now."
"No, no, you shouldn't be. I think you have been frightfully hurt, somewhere or other. I'm not the sort of person who, well, I never let life hurt me. I got my first degree when I was eighteen. I owned my first factory when I was twenty-two. And now I have all of these things, and no one has ever intruded, before. But you are the opposite. You have run out onto the spears."
He was making me feel all jelly and wobbly and I wanted him to fuck and fuck and fuck and stop all this examining and thought. Life is not for thought. Life is for love. But I caressed his neck, stroked his back and arms, and I could feel his cock slowly pressing and throbbing against me.
"I love you very much," Bruce announced. "I don't think it frightfully fair, mind you. But there is nothing I can do about it. I have heard things like this happen to people. I always thought it was something to do with sentimentality, or else another kind of person. God, when it happens to oneself, it's pretty merciless, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes, it is very cruel. I know. But I don't care. We can part tomorrow and never see each other ever again." I told him this as his cock came pressing and my leg rose up to allow it to slide and find me hot and excited for it. "Now, let's love; let's love and damn the whole wide world."
Bruce was hardly aware of what was happening. I was virtually forcing him to take me. I inched my leg right over; this let his cock slip closer and closer and then enter me almost without him being aware of it. I pulled Bruce right to me, and then we were so locked that he gasped in surprise.
"You must marry me, Diana. I am a terrible kind of moralist and I hate to do this without there being a reason. The reason for love I don't know, except to have a family. Can you have children, say five or six?"
I lay back, hot and wet and slowly wriggling my hips. His cock was large and fitted nicely. I was happy and my lower leg slid right beneath Bruce, allowing him to press right into my wide open legs and penetrate as fully and as deeply as he wished.
"There-this is love, Bruce. I love you. I never, never want any other man." I laughed and bit him on the shoulder.
"Oh, Diana f You naughty, naughty bitch." Bruce suddenly was fucking. He had awoken to the flesh and the desire at last. I was wild again and riding with him, digging my nails into him and letting his cock surge in and out of me while I crooned and played with his ears.
"Oh, Bruce, you have a lovely, lovely, oooh, ooh, lovely bed. I am glad you are you. I am, oooh, coming fast!" I was wide open for him. I suddenly accepted Bruce as if he was to be part of my life for ever and ever. I could feel his cock shooting and surging, and then I was snatched right with him, tightly, and kissing, and part of him as he was so truly part of me. It was an astonishing climax! It was a golden explosion. I had never, but most certainly never, had this kind of sexual orgasm before. I was shocked by it. I lay with my arms about him.
"I don't take the pill," I announced.
"Oh, that's good. The pill is dangerous. As I was saying, we ought to get married, and as soon as possible."
I was not listening to him. I was working out the dates and I was worried. Bruce had caught me on those couple of days of the month when I was certain to have to worry.
"What happens, dear, if I have a baby?" I asked him. "A baby would be very nice, if he was like you. I think I might prefer a girl though. I don't know."
Bruce sighed. "You talk on and on, and you don't listen to a single damned word I am saying."
"I can feel you getting hard again."
"Diana, you are a sex-mad bitch. I am asking you to marry me, and all you speak about-hell, if I didn't love you, I would throw you right out of my bed and out of my life."
"You wouldn't dare! And listen, tough guy, I leave tomorrow and I won't see you again, ever, not if you come crawling to my front door on your hands and knees." I was suddenly breathless as his hard cock was so suddenly back within me again. "Bruce, oooh, Bruce, dear, we must never, never meet again. It's fatal, this. It's bad for you and I love it and am ruined by it. Please, oooh, yes, yes, yes!"
That was the way the night went. It was wonderful. It was so exhausting. It was unique, and I refused to think that it could ever happen again. Bruce just stole into me, exactly as I wished him to. We loved and slept, and loved, and the rain fell down the night sky. But we just did not give a damn.
Weeks later I was very happy. I came out of the hospital after seeing Sir Peters and I seemed to dance lightly along as if walking on bubbles of air.
Petesie was going to find his life changed. He would have to slow down on his loving sessions. Without a prostate, Sir Peters was no longer in pain, but a little ashamed of himself as he still felt they might have castrated him. I chuckled at his worries, as the surgeon was so certain it had been a highly successful operation, and much overdue.
I paused in the sunlight and looked down Gower Street. I had parked my mini-car somewhere, and, like a muffin, I had been in such a hurry to make visiting hours, I had forgotten which direction I had to go and hunt for it in. But the sunshine was fine, and there was a flower seller on the comer of Euston Road, so I stopped and bought a great bunch of daffodils to take back to my apartment. I was happy, and damned well certain I was pregnant too. Perhaps that was why I was so happy. I laughed and worked out it was going to be an October baby, a Capricorn, and one certain of great success in this, our great, life. A flood of dreams and optimism was going through me. I knew my doctor thought I ought to have a husband to go with having a baby, but that was a problem I would have to look into some other time. It is best not to think too much. Thinking people, like Bruce, have the whole world to worry about. I was still determined to be a butterfly and have a baby butterfly along with me. It was all good for one. I hoped.
All I had to do was to find my mini-car and life would be good. I walked on down Euston Road, and people stopped to stare and smile at my mini-skirt and my bunch of golden daffodils. Then that damned Aston Martin came almost up onto the pavement. Bruce was back in town. I turned and fled up a side alley, cutting down through University College and back into Gower Street. I was not angry, just annoyed. I did not want to see Bruce again. I had gone from him that morning, and I had no intention of ever getting caught by him again. I loved him; perhaps he loved me. I still wanted to be free.
"Diana, can I have a word with you, please?" Bruce had cut through and was in front of me, standing there with his large brown eyes staring at me through those ridiculous glasses of his. "Listen to me. Get in my car. I'll take you anywhere you wish to go."
"I am looking for my car, Bruce." I stopped and made a bad mistake. I stared at him, and we could not help smiling.
"Hey there-orgy girl, I can't do anything without you," Bruce announced simply.
"Bruce, I have so many damned problems. I can't find my car. I have to get a husband for our baby-I mean-no matter. Sir Peters wants to marry me, and I love him and can't hurt the dear thing. Above all-you know what?"
Bruce stood by the Aston Martin patiently holding the door open for me. "No, Diana, what?"
"You upset me too much. You're too damned normal!"
"Get in, orgy girl." Bruce sighed. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and entered the sleek black car.
"Diana," Bruce said quietly as we drove off to search for my lost mini-car. "We get married on Friday, have a honeymoon in Germany, be back here in one week for the defense conference. Tell me one thing-hey there, orgy girl, you listening to me?"
"Yes, yes, Bruce," I sniffed. "What is it?"
"Well, what do you say?"
I did not say anything. I was so happy I was weeping like a child in a great golden field of sunlight.
