This anonymous work provides the reader with a stark view of the workings of a perverted mind- the mind of a young woman victimized by a social system which has enslaved her, body and soul.
The setting is in the nineteenth century, but the psychological make-up of the protagonist is remarkably like that found in many young girls of today who have distorted views of their own personal worth and the meaning of morality-and who have "sold their souls to the company store," as the cliche goes. To be sure, the girl, Alicia, whose story is shockingly revealed in this book, is no more unmoral or immoral, or even amoral for that matter, than any of her present-day kind. When something is understood about the whys and the wherefores of such rather fixated human behavior patterns, and the causes thereof, perhaps then modern man will begin to learn from history rather than continue to imitate and repeat it due to his sometimes appalling lack of knowledge of its true past workings.
The protagonist is taught to believe by the lecherous Count Ernesto del Valle that "physical contact is always more powerful than words, and that these gestures (caresses) carry much more emotion than a million lying words." This rather warped way of thinking is the key to what ails Alicia, since she is taught that right is wrong and morality is immorality. Because of the graphic description of the sexual matters with which she obscures the real meaning of her writings, the discerning reader finds signposts throughout the work which clarify the motives behind the way Alicia acts and behaves. In this manner it becomes clear enough that Alicia's obsession with sex is merely that of something with which she is obsessed only as a means to an end-to achieve her goal. Since she is a chattel of the lecherous count, she must rely on all that she owns in order to achieve an escape. Since all that she owns is her own person (sans worldly goods) she therefore chooses to use her personal currency to "buy" what she wants. She minutely refers to her body and bodily parts in much the same way that an economist might refer to a balance sheet of his assets-except in different terms.
Even as a child, while witnessing the primeval act between her parents (which she could not help but see since they all lived together in a one-room hovel) she saw "victory" in her mother's eyes; or rather, she believed that she saw her mother degrading her father. This led to her father's "humiliating" himself, a thing which she witnessed with much joy. When she says, "Mother had not lost; she'd gained. He'd lost, he'd not gained. His body-and his serum-had gone into her body... and she had thereby gained: he, in return, had used her body juices only for lubrication, nothing more," Alicia clearly states the early age at which she first manifested her earliest feelings of hatred for authoritarian and father figures. She wished to do as her mother had done: "Through her body, she'd gained complete control over him She'd put him in a supremely idiotic position physically. He'd stood on his knees, looking silly; she'd assumed a sensible position, on her hands and knees."
Even the neophyte student of human behavior can read the meaning in this, and the psychological reasons for such rationale.
As she grew older and more experienced, Alicia relates, she came to fathom how to get the most out of men by properly displaying "but a bit of her body."
She then proceeded to reveal remarkable insight into the psychology of the male-which she reports thus: "His standard seduction procedure was to pick a girl from his peons and take her in as a servant and then finally take her to his bed, as well you know, sister. After the girl had lost her maidenhead-and her attraction for the Count-she was returned, usually pregnant, to the fields again."
Here we see the cruel system for what it really is -and now the reader sees something of Alicia's motives for her way of living, and for her ways of thinking, acting, and reacting.
Alicia then graphically points out the thinking of the Count who dominates her and all his peons. "Alicia is fourteen," the good Count said. "She's a virgin, she claims. This I cannot believe. What girl lives fourteen years-on this plantation, at least- and manages to keep from being fucked?"
So much for the "good Count," the man who controls all the destinies of his peon-slaves.
Early in the manuscript we see something of Alicia's desires. She knows that she has to give in order to get, and so she rationalizes, "I'd caught myself in time! My flesh ached for his flesh on mine, naked as mine would be, his manhood prodding me, driving me to earthly bliss!"
And what then is this earthly bliss of which Alicia speaks? She spells it out in the next passage: "I had to get from him singing lessons, dancing lessons-and I had to have his influence to introduce me to the right persons in this field of entertainment-the men who could boost me up, always up, higher and higher into the entertainment world!"
And there we have the elan vitale, the reason this book was written, or rather, the reason the "letters" were written.
Indeed we also see more. We see something of Alicia's true nature-her mother-oriented homosexuality; but there are only suggestive clues of this throughout the manuscript, i.e., "And my breathing increased in admiration of her lovely figure."
She goes on to show the reader how she progressively increases her knowledge of sex and psychology, and how to use sex successfully. "I then learned a big lesson. Men struggle like mad to get into a female's bed... then the man is tired of the woman-and he moves into another bed, possibly with a female much less attractive than was the first. For man is the hunter, the woman is prey- and once the hunter has bagged his prey, he loses interest in it. The chase, I learned, is the thing- to a man!"
As the telling of her story continues we see Alicia's increasing hostility toward society. She sees a woman urinating, which reminds her of a dog urinating on a post. She sees other sights that remind her of piglets suckling their mother's dirty teats. And finally, she begins to realize that she is only a thing to be used by man. This is graphically revealed when she says, "You are a very selfish man, Ernesto, but then all men are selfish. You know full well I get no sexual response with your penis in my ass."
In short, this anonymous manuscript reads like a detailed tract in the confessional of a sex-obsessed sociopathic libertine. It is a book which fundamentally reveals what happens when human beings are enslaved by other human beings, for this alone is mankind's worst crime against humanity. There is no wonder that people revert to animalism when they are subjected to slavery as Alicia was.
-Curtis L. Roche, Ph.D.
INTRODUCTION
Sexy, naughty, scintillating -these are three of the mildest adjectives used by book reviewers upon reviewing the following novel, The Constant Virgin, upon its publication in the original Spanish during the latter quarter of the past century. Other reviewers, their aplomb sent awry by the four-letter words used in the novel, described it as filthy, obscene, utterly without morality, and some even employed adjectives as strong as those used in, Lady Alicia's book!
The novel was soon translated into the French and Italian, and the latter country immediately banned its sale-as did the Greeks, Yugoslavs, Austrians, Hungarians, Germans, Dutch and Flemish. Only the liberal-thinking French allowed the volume to be displayed publicly for sale!
Queen Victoria immediately issued an edict that no form of the novel-in any language-could be allowed into Great Britain. Thus, no English language translation of the novel apparently was brought about; indeed, this volume you hold in your hands is the first printing of The Constant Virgin in the English tongue.
Nevertheless, history records that French translations of the novel were smuggled into England, for at that time many English people also spoke and read French. Whether the good Queen Victoria discovered this terrible fact is not known, but it is know among those learned in world literature that for 64 years the Queen carefully censored books that her subjects could read-one of the reasons that even today many ordinary books, carrying only minor references to sex, are banned from English shores.
Who was Alicia, the Constant Virgin? Many conjectures were made; many theories advanced- some were quickly discarded, some lingered a while before dying natural deaths, but to this day the actual identity of the female author of The Constant Virgin is still in doubt-for the fact remains that, during the time exemplified in this book, Europe (and even America) held a half-dozen or so famous dancing singers, for the musical revue was then coming into full blossom both on the Continent and in the United States.
Sales of the volumes rose into astronomical figures; it became the Gone With The Wind of its day. Because at that time no English translation was extant, the fervor did not touch America's shores.
"This novel can never be translated into English," wrote the famous critic, Jean-Paul Paul in his Essence of Successful Translations. "The reasons are simple. First, English is a rough, brutal language with hard comers. The original Spanish of the volume is lyrical, smooth, glistening. Were The Constant Virgin brought into English translation, all nuances, all twists of the tongue, would be completely eliminated. With this flowering loveliness gone, all that would remain in English translation would be what tow minds call a dirty novel!"
This reviewer is forced to disagree with the eminent Frenchman. The Constant Virgin now is in English language form; you hold it in your hand! And, although laced with four-lettered words, it still has not lost its innate beauty, in this reviewer's humble opinion.
Undoubtedly many Americans-the strong sweetness of lulling Victorianism still lingering in their nostrils-will condemn the volume as indecent and will clamor to have it suppressed, but they shall be in the minority, of course. They will point out such words as fuck, cunt, prick, cock, ass and others, loudly claiming these are obscene words.
This failing shall be one of the human flesh, not of the novel. Lady Alicia states, early in her novel, that she must be truthful and "tell always the truth," and sometimes the truth needs be garbed in naturalistic clothing. The novel bears a message, as all good novels should. It portrays accurately and to some depth living conditions-social, moral, philosophical, political-of the turbulent times in which the heroine lived and fought to gain her life-long objective: to become a singing and dancing star in musical revues. So I have but one question to ask these stiff-necked sniffers: Which is the more important-how a novel is told or what a novel seeks to attain? Is the top of the carrot more valuable than the carrot itself?
Let us also remember that Lady Alicia was a mere girl an ignorant and unlettered Spanish peon. She used such four-lettered words in her ordinary day-by-day conversation, for her early life was one of toil with hoe and scythe. Should she not, then, write in her everyday tongue?
Many will ask how this novel got into English. I would like to romantically relate that it was found in some ancient cathedral (or library or attic) hidden in a locked old trunk, but, alas, such is not the truth.
I discovered this manuscript (written in precise English) two years ago while rummaging through La Bibleoteca de Los Pobres in Madrid, Spain, while doing my doctor dissertation for my doctor of philosophy degree.
"I have the manuscript-in English-of one of the sexiest books written," the head librarian said tome.
He took me to his office. Carefully, he opened his huge old safe. There was the manuscript, written in ink and, as stated, in English. I immediately recognized it as an English language translation of La Diva Ballando, which I had read in Spanish, and thoroughly enjoyed.
"Where did this come from?" I asked, amazed.
"I do not know. It was here when I took over this post forty-three years ago. You recognize it, do you not?"
I told him I did. I sat down and skimmed through the manuscript's first few pages. My mind whipped back to my reading of the Spanish version of this book, and then I understood.
In the Spanish version, Lady Alicia confided that she had had the aid of an American newspaperman in writing her memoirs. Had he, then, made an English language copy of the manuscript? I could think of no other way that this manuscript could have gotten to this library.
Why hadn't he sent the manuscript-or taken it -to an American publisher for publishing? That reason, also, was simplicity itself. At the time he composed the manuscript, the United States, also, suffered a strong moral and rather backward book censorship, a virginal trait inherited from English Victorianism. Had a publisher published the novel, both he and the American newspaperman quite likely would have been thrown into jail-and the keys to their cells thrown away!
I believe the time is now right for this novel to see print in English in the United States. I pray my readers agree with me.
-Pm. V. D. Ltnze, Ph. D. BOOK ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Anger shook me. I'd come to the Count as a probable and potential bed partner, not as a beer table! I tried to sit up. I couldn't. My arms were tied to the bed rails. My legs were also tied, spread-eagled. At that moment I jumped. Count Ernesto had playfully put the ice-cold bottom of his beer mug on my puche!
I almost lost my head and broke into angry cursing; I held this, though, knowing that if I got mad, I might lose all. Count Ernesto had many women to choose from. I'd been lucky he'd selected me, no more than an ignorant country bumpkin bestowed by nature with a pretty ass and enormous teats.
In times of anger I'd found that singing in an ironic vein somewhat eased my nerves. Accordingly, I now broke out in wild song, my lips trilling an aria from Aida.
The beer mug left the lips of my cunt. Count Ernesto stared at me in amazement, eyebrows arched. The Duchess also stared at me, as though hardly believing her ears.
The Duchess' red lips gasped, "My god, Ernesto, this girl has a wonderful voice! Is it possible?"
Count Ernesto smiled. He put his cold beer mug between my breasts. I jumped but, of course, could do nothing. "Well do I know that, darling. I've heard her sing in the fields when she thought I wasn't listening! Someday she'll be a great dancing and singing star. She tells me that is her life objective. I intend to send her to dancing and singing school!"
This time I was the one who could hardly believe her ears! I forgot the ice-cold beer stein on my breasts. Count Ernesto would give me a dancing and musical education! Then and there, I decided he could do with me as he wished, even to placing frosty beer mugs on my naked body!
"Do you... really mean... that?" I blurted, without thinking.
My Count scowled. "I gave my word. Have I ever gone back on my word, Alicia?"
Shame burned my cheeks. When my Count promised something, he always gave it. His reputation for honesty throughout entire Hispania was unmatched by any other Spanish hidalgo!
"I love you," I gasped, "but why am I tied down, my Count?"
He grinned satanically. "Man, at his finest, is a beast, Alicia, and sometimes the beast-the devil- comes out in me."
"And in women, also," the Duchess hurriedly said. "Who fucks this virgin first-you or I, Count Ernesto?"
"Let me explain things so there'll be no confusion," the Count said. "Alicia is a virgin; even my doctors certify this fact. She is fourteen and, all these years, while other girls rolled and fucked in the brush with lovers, she kept her virginity intact -and says she saved it for me." The Duchess nodded.
My Count continued with, "Therefore I believe it is my right-and masculine duty-to break her hymen. But you, my Duchess, are a lady of royal blood, a true lady."
I had reservations. I remembered the Duchess in the six-and-nine position with my Count and the Duchess had not had a piece of bologna in her mouth with its now-painted red Lips-a mouth looking sweet and virginal and very kissable, I would judge, from a man's point-of-view! Lady, my foot!
"I thank you," the Duchess said, draining her beer mug, replacing it on my heaving belly, "but I still do not see what you are driving at, my lovable Count Ernesto!"
"A lady always precedes a gentleman." (Did I detect irony in the word lady?) "So... you will fuck Alicia first, Duchess!"
At this, Her Highness smiled happily; then, her smile died, for the Count held up a hand sternly. "But I must caution you on one point, Duchess- under no circumstances can you break Alicia's maidenhead! That is reserved for my cock! Understand?"
"Clearly, my good Count. And, also, I see your point-of-view. I shall merely insert my forefinger to a short depth. My tongue cannot enter her high enough to smash her veil. My tongue is far inferior to yours, my love!" This time, the Count beamed in pride.
"The lovely little girl takes me very seriously," my Count continued. "When in deepest faint she cried that I break her maidenhead, remember?"
"I remember, Ernesto. I till am angry that you hid out this vixen in your closet. She saw us in very intimate circumstances. I have always thought that sexual acts between a man and woman needed no spectators!"
"I tolerate no subordination!" Although he smiled, I realized my Count was angry underneath. He had a will of steel. Here on his estate his word was absolute law. I had heard that his whipmen had hammered many a rebellious peon to death at the whipping post.
When he wanted a peon woman-be she married or without spouse-all he did was crook a forefinger... and she hurriedly went to his bed. But if the Duchess sensed his irritation her face showed sign.
Dreamily, the Duchess surveyed my cunt in plain view before her hungry eyes, seemingly completely forgetting Count Ernesto. Her small tongue wet her red lips in avid anticipation!
Her lovely head bent and entered the cavity between my legs. I felt her smooth, hot tongue run along the lips of my cunt and my body thrashed against my binding thongs, so great was the passion that lightninged through me. My nipples arched upward, threatening to burst!
Delighted moans tore from between my clenched teeth. Slowly, carefully, she drew her tongue upward, massaging carefully. I broke into wild ejaculation, my lips thrashing.
Finally the Duchess' beautiful head rose and she spoke quietly to Count Ernesto, "She's really a hot little girl. She went off with my tongue just touching, even before it made an entrance!"
Count Ernesto's eyes glowed. "Think of her response when my prick goes deep into her and breaks her maidenhead!" he murmured happily.
"Untie me," I pleaded. "I will not run or fight! I want to have love made to me, my Count, as you and the Lady here did." A sudden plan hit me. "In fact, all three of us can make love, verdad?"
But my Count slowly shook his head. "It is best you remain trussed for a while, my lovely. Later on, of course... " His voice trailed away, laden with sexual promise-and I had to be content as I was.
The Duchess removed the beer mugs, eyes riveted on my cunt, which I could feel was gaped open. I wanted her to submerge her head again in my hairy nest; again, I wanted the devastating thrill of her tongue, sweeping and loving. But such was not her plan-at this moment.
"I believe first I'll woman-fuck her," the Duchess told the Count, who merely nodded. I noticed that he had a rigid erection, his prick swollen with blood and standing upright at smart attention. I almost cried that he be the first to mount, to plant his prick into me to the bag, thereby to shatter my virginal veil, just as a stone, thrown by a hurrying schoolboy, smashes a window!
I wisely kept my lips sealed. Count Ernesto held my future within his hands. He could kick me out any time he wanted. I would then return to my poor mud home and labor in the fields. All my dreams of singing and dancing would then be forever shattered!
I wondered what the Duchess had meant by the word, "woman-fuck." Did she mean she and I would go into the Lesbian position, each of us using our tongues? The aplomb and coolness of the Duchess surprised me. I know that if somebody had spied on me fucking and tongue-lapping the Count I'd have been very angry at the intrusion into our privacy. But apparently my being in the closet affected the Duchess in a minor sense!
"You should loosen her legs a little, Count Ernesto," the Duchess murmured, and Count Ernesto nodded assent. He loosened and put slack in each of the buckskin thongs that held my legs apart and bound me fast to the bed. Thus, I could raise my knees somewhat.
"Go to it, girls!" the Count intoned, stepping back a pace.
To my surprise, the Duchess got between my legs like a man getting between a female's legs to fuck her in the normal fashion. I noticed, for the first time, that her cunt hairs had been clipped short- the hairs being no more than an inch long, if that long.
Carefully, her hips went forward, the lips of her cunt spread and meeting mine, but her cunt was higher than mine, and she drew back, scowling.
"Her puche is down too low, Count. She needs a pillow under her buttocks. That would bring her pussy right level with mine."
"Oh, yes!" the Count said. "A pillow!"
While the Duchess lifted my buttocks the Count inserted a pillow under me, and I was watching over my teats, which were so high I had to raise my head to see what was transpiring. Eyes bulging, the Duchess stared down at my puche. I can still see her kneeling there-lovely, naked, peaked breasts up-jutting, belly heaving with excitement, sexual lust blazing in her dark eyes! Her sex fever was contagious; my buttocks leaped, twisted. She placed her hands under my rump, as a man holds a woman when, with driving hips, he sends his male semen jetting into the woman's dancing vagina!
She came forward slowly, her hips gyrating, shooting ahead, then back-and her flesh made contact with mine. A thousand demons tore my heart, made my belly jump, as her short hairs, tickling and bristly, collided with my well upholstered puche.
She came down on me, the way a man lowers his trembling weight on a female; her teats met mine, nipple to nipple, and my passion increased, leaping upward a thousand fold, if not more! We squirmed, we pitched, teat to teat, and then her hips, snuggled hard between mine, went to work-rising and fading, scraping and rubbing, her buttocks dancing with glee, her breathing a rasping gale in my ears, her breath scorching as is Satan's!
Her bottom went wild; mine followed happy suit! How her butt danced, pirouetted, wheeled; how my rear crashed upward, meeting hers exactly. I felt the lips of her open cunt meet the open lips of mine. Our cunts rubbed, open lips against open lips-her ass was mad with glee, and mine met hers-thus we dueled in splendid agony, the world spinning red and green, then flashing blue and yellow!
Through bleared eyes, I saw the Count, who stood watching, mouth slightly agape, one hand on his prick as he unconsciously played with his bone-hard penis. What terrible longings must have ripped his heart, fired his blood, for he, always hot-blooded, must have really reveled in this beautiful sight, this vision of two women-lovely and enchanting (if I may say so myself!) meeting and loving in sexual glory!
"Hold it! Hold it!" Dimly his savage words echoed in my lust-filled ears. "Duchess, I join the party, my love!"
I remember him leaping on the bed to fall to his knees behind the Duchess' gyrating bottom. I saw him put his weight, belly down, on the Duchess' bare back, his hands going under her, locking around her teats. I did not, at that moment, know what he'd accomplished; I was wrapped in my own world of lust, red and flashing, and enjoying every second of it.
(Later, I learned he had hurriedly penetrated the Duchess' anus!) Thus we were locked-two naked women and one naked nobleman-in three-tiered sexual conjunction. Each time the Count's hips came in hard against the Duchess' bottom, the Duchess' cunt smashed down harder against my gaping font. Time and time again, my ovaries spoke, spewing out my feminine fluids. I do not know how many times my youthful body twisted in passion's hard grip. All things floated. I had no pain, no weight on me; I lived in beautiful heaven, and my body spoke and spoke again-and the Duchess' grand body, young and lovely, answered mine, fluid for fluid, and thus we fucked!
But there must come a stop to all things-evil or good, sweet or bitter-and the flesh, even when young, can endure just so much. I must admit (to my happiness) that the Duchess was the first female to show signs of weakening, and when her gestures became more and more feeble, my heart sang, for I still had much natural fluid left. I would be woman enough-yea, too much woman!-for my beloved Count!
It was only when the Duchess, sobbing like a wind-broken burro, rolled from me that I realized Count Ernesto was connected with her for, as she twisted, she pinched his penis, making it difficult for him to withdraw. I saw his lips go white. He was unhappy. Her buttocks had given his prick a hard, sidewise wrench!
"I had no climax!" my Count screamed at the Duchess.
The Duchess sat on the floor, legs spread out wide, her font dripping white. She fought for air, her mouth open, white teeth shimmering. I, too, breathed as though each breath would be my last, for had I not been at the bottom of the sex-locked mass of humanity?
Finally I gasped, "I have much more for you, my love!"
My Count whirled to face me, cock swinging, and his hand went down, wrapped itself around his hose-like appendage. His eyes went small and scheming. His lips worked. My heart thrilled.
He would mount me now! My love! He would jam his peter into me and my veil-oh, how long I had carried the cursed stigma!-would be forever shattered, and, at long last, I would be a woman!
He stepped once toward the bed; the Duchess leaped up, caught him around his bare waist. She turned him bodily, for she was wiry-strong, and they faced each other, his rigid penis only inches below her waggling jaw.
"Ernesto, Ernesto!"
(She'd forgotten to call him Count Ernesto. Usually when called by only his given name he would become angry, but, due to the press of the circumstances, evidently he didn't notice her slip of tongue!) "Yes, my whore!"
"I do not want to be left out, Ernesto!"
Now he noticed her slip of tongue. "Count Ernesto," he corrected savagely. He caught his anger. "What other plans do you have, my pretty prostitute!"
"You promised her to me, remember? With but one stipulation-her veil should go intact to you!"
"Yes, I did, at that!"
"I demand you live up to your gentlemanly word! I ask you to forget momentarily the hardness of your prick!"
The Count patted her beautifully rounded bottom. "You are a spunky bitch, my love! You are free to continue the love-making, Duchess!"
"Actually I act in your behalf, Count Ernesto. When I am finished with her, she'll be a bed of live coals demanding you break her virginal veil!"
"Yes, she shall so be... "
"My mouth," I said, "is so dry!"
The Duchess raised my head and I drank deep from her cold ale. I lay back, wondering what she would next do to me. I did not have to wait long for an answer, for her lovely head came down, her lips squarely meeting mine.
At first, I kept my lips closed; then, her tongue, strong and bold, parted them, and her tongue stormed my teeth. Her body twisted, nipples rubbing my nipples, and this made me gasp-her tongue snaked in, warm and wriggling, and her tongue met mine, and passion again took control of me.
Her hand tripped down my heaving bare belly, making little imps dance in my quivering flesh. It tiptoed across my navel, stopped there momentarily, then continued down, finding my hairy haven, separating the hairs, pinching, loving, teasing until, at long last, her crooked forefinger entered my cunt just so slightly, playing teasingly along its itching top! And my young body broke into a thousand flashes of mad fight, dancing and gathering!
She gave me what she called her "tongue bath." Never did I believe a human body could hold the unbridled passions that tore through my sex-hungry flesh. Her tongue left my gaping mouth, slowly and carefully, then loved my closed eyelids, my nostrils, ticked my ears, started downward over my trembling chin, tiptoed up a breast-and anchored damp softness on my right nipple!
Which is the most receptive to human embrace, the woman's nipple, or the bridge of a female cunt? During my years as a dancer and singer I have, of course, lived and moved among naked young women, for a dressing room always has women in some stages of undress and dress-usually it is a jungle of huge young breasts, flat stomachs and hairy anuses and cunts. And many time I have listened, to the endless female discussion-which tickles the most when loved, the nipples or the cunt?
Some females claim their high-pointed breasts are the most touchy and capable of transporting the greatest sexual bliss to a female. They point out that many nerves end at the nipple. These nerves, when tantalized, spread like miniature trunk-lines throughout the female body, and these lines, in turn, transport bliss and joy to every pore of the woman's body!
Others claim that the inner lining of the cunt (the red layer of lips enfolding the vagina's opening) is the more sensitive. They argue that here are all nerve centers, not just a few as in the nipple! Their thesis, doctors have told me, is more valid than the former concerning nipples. I do not know. I get equally as excited sexually from manipulation of the nipple as from the entrance of prick-or finger-into my vagina!
But let us return to the lovely, naked Duchess. Her hands came in, cupped my hard breasts as one -now, her mouth encased both my budding nipples! I cannot find enough adjectives to describe the heavenly bliss that lightninged through my tormented, heaving young flesh!
The Duchess knew just how much lip-pressure to apply. Her rosebud tongue, damp and soft, moved across the extreme tips of my nipples, traveling with the dexterous science and skill of an expert!
To me, the surrounding world ceased to exist! There was no Spain, no castle of the Count; indeed, the Count himself faded into nothing. There was just my glowing, hungry body and the Duchess' lips, loving and darting, bringing my hips to writhing fullness, the serum of my ovaries spraying again and again!
Because she was a passionate woman herself, the Duchess know just how much passion a female body could expend before collapsing; wisely, then, her mouth left my nipples and I sank back into a semi-comatose state, breathing heavily as her tongue continued traveling down my heaving belly, seeking the sunken ring of my navel!
I opened my eyes dreamily. And the first thing I saw, not more than ten inches away, was the stiff prick of my Count! My eyes moved past the rigid cock to the naked Count himself. He sat idly drinking his beer. He smiled at me; I smiled back. I gestured toward my mouth. He held my head and poured cold beer down my dry gullet, bringing relief to my parched throat. I murmured thanks.
Again, I closed my eyes. Again, I surrendered my flesh to the Duchess' sweet manipulations. I silently gave thanks that I was female, not male. I have always had sympathy for the poor human male!
He climbs on a female. He pumps his life away. And many times the female is not grateful enough to gyrate her hips to help him go off! His hands grab her rounded ass. Mad with lust, he pours his cock into her; within seconds, he goes off in wild ejaculation!
Then, poor soul, he is done until his testicles are again charged. This must be frustrating for the male for, in most cases, the female has just begun to fuck!
For the female can have-and does have-many, many sexual ejaculations. I have gone off even before the male prick entered my vagina! Just the touch of the male cock, playing along my hairy cunt, many times drives me to wild female secretion!
I can elaborate even further. I have had feminine release by a man only loving my breasts, lips sucking, enfolding, loving!
The usual male has little consideration for his fucking partner. He will climb on, cock extended, fold back her legs, take his cock in his free hand- and then, unceremoniously, ram it roughly in to his balls!
If the female has not been properly warmed for the sexual intrusion, this roughness may hurt her severely, for her sexual secretions have not yet lubricated the lips of her puche sufficiently. Thus, in such a situation, the male prick rasps delicate membranes; usually, the woman cries out in pain, but the man, ignorant and prodding by now, thinks she emitted a gasp of heavenly bliss-so ignorant and unlearned are some blundering males!
While the average male is seeking a climax, the average healthy female has many orgasms prior to his. Again and again, her ovaries secrete, then secrete again. As for me, I have had fourteen men fuck me at one time, all taking me one after the other, and for each's prodding prick I had a number of orgasms-none, I proudly state, went dry of lubrication!
But I shall return to the point of my thesis, which is that many times the female writhes in sexual disappointment while the male lies beside her, impotent because his testicles needs must be replenished, and only time can do this. Therefore I think the entire theory of a man having many wives is completely in error. This I would reverse: my thesis is that the woman needs many men!
The Duchess' tongue, now slow and soothing, lulled me into a great lassitude, and, despite my desires otherwise, I realize now that I sank into slumber, her tongue a lullaby of rhythm inducing sleep.
But when I awakened, it was with a great happiness.
CHAPTER TWO
What awakened me was this: the Duchess' mouth had finally reached my cunt! Indeed, at the moment of my awakening, her tongue, twisted into a small hard tube, had entered the lips of my puche!
A quivering passion vibrated my hips. The flesh of no other person had-to this moment-ever entered my cunt! Of course, my forefinger had played many times, driving me to feminine orgasm; always, though, I'd been very careful not to insert my finger too deeply-thus conserving my virginal veil intact!
Now the flesh of another was probing my cunt! I writhed, hips moving, jerking; my breathing came in short, ugly gasps. I looked at Count Ernesto, still sitting beside me. Gradually, he faded from view; strangely, only redness engulfed me. My entire body -my thoughts-my attention-were focused on what the great and good Duchess did to me!
I struggled against my bonds. I tried to jerk my arms free, to embrace the Duchess' slender belly, and the thongs even cut into my wrists, deep and ugly, before I realized I could not jerk my hand's free.
(Later I again asked Count Ernesto why he had bound me hand and foot. He related that he knew I would undergo deep passion and, in this passion, might become irresponsible and scratch and bite the Duchess. He had done well by trussing me down. I might have maimed the Duchess or, at least scratched her naked body deeply, or I might have dug my shiny teeth deep into her flesh-such was the redness of my throbbing passion!) The Duchess had an expert tongue. I know this now, because during the years since this episode many tongues have entered my cunt, but none has been as expert as that of this titled Spanish bitch!
She had, one must admit, a wonderful instructor: Count Ernesto del Valle! But yet, in my estimation, she even surpassed her teacher, although I did not tell this to my Count, for he was very, very proud of his tongue-work. And one should never shatter the ego of another, even when one is in rage!
This was my first tongue session with the Duchess, but it would not be my last. For a long time I tried to analyze down and break into small components the reasons why her tongue drove me to such supreme ecstasy! Finally, after much deliberation, I arrived at one conclusion: because of the development of the muscles of her tongue (evidently attained only through long and diligent practice) she could make the tip of her tongue curl slightly back and, as her head rose and her tongue also moved back, this curled tip touched certain vital nerve ends in my vagina's soft lining. And the result?
Again and again-and yet again!-my body writhed and twisted to lustful secretions, my ovaries again and again discharging their creamy, life-giving fluids!
Now her tongue had flattened. Gently, carefully, it moved down the left edge of my cunt, broad and sweet, seeking its bottom. It found the bottom, hesitated, then withdrew; down it went, seeking another body orifice, which it soon found. This it loved, licked, swirled over, sought entrance, found no entrance, and though this shot desire into my loins, I prayed she would return to my cunt- which, to my happiness and bliss-she soon did!
Her tongue again a pointed red pencil, she loved my puche. I felt her rounded and soft thigh nudge my right ear. I turned my head and kissed her glowing flesh; this, though, was not enough, even though my lips sucked her smoothness, just above her knee-for the knee nudged again and, finally, I realized what she desired! I turned my head. I looked at Count Ernesto.
His naked shoulders shrugged negligently. His eyebrows arched. I realized the decision was mine. I croaked, "Tell her to lift her leg, please, my lord." Immediately, her knee lifted, cleared my nose, then settled hard and deep on the opposite side of my head.
I had given the Duchess permission to move into the Lesbian six-and-nine position for two reasons: one, I wanted to please her for she'd been so kind, so sweet, to me by coupling with my cunt, thereby giving me heavenly bliss; and, second, I wanted to taste of her feminine depths, for curiosity ran rampant through my heaving body.
Evidently Her Highness found extreme pleasure in inserting her tongue into my cunt! She rolled her head, her breasts were solid stone; her hips twisted, her body screamed delight. Would I experience this seemingly overwhelming enjoyment if my tongue penetrated her well-lubricated vagina? I have always been one for experimentation, you know!
I stared upward at her parted legs. Yes, her cunt was well lubricated; even though untouched since Count Ernesto's lips and prick had entered it, a light froth clung to the closely cropped hairs. Her passion had driven her ovaries to self-expression!
I saw her anus clearly. I was parted, brown and small, lined with thick hair. A gentle perfume wafted into my nostrils. She had, indeed, lightly farted, I realized. Usually I dislike the strong odor of farts, and I dislike a man in bed with me who farts, but this fart for some reason smelled of heavenly nectar and Olympian perfume!
My attention again centered on her luscious cunt. I noticed it was very small. (Later I learned she'd never suffered childbirth!) I then realized I had no absolute reason for judging her puche to be tiny. I had seen the cunt of only one other female at close range; the large and gaping orifice of my mother when my father tried desperately to fill its vastness with his rather small penis!
Of course, I had also witnessed the feminine orifices of my sisters and other female friends, for many times we girls had gone swimming in the dirty sloughs-but, of course, -I had not been close enough to give these pitches close attention, something I cannot say about Her Highness' cunt-for her opening was but a few inches from my eyes... and slowly coming down closer!
A moment of panic struck me, blinding my vision momentarily. I realized that this form of sexual contact was what society claimed "not correct." (I did not then realize, in my extreme youth, how ignorant and biased this so-called society was, nor did I then know the full depths of this society's ignorance and superstition!) I would not go through with this obscene practice!
Evidently the Duchess must have sensed my hesitation for, without pausing, her cunt suddenly descended flush on my mouth, her knees suddenly spreading. I gasped something; her cunt hairs muffled my cry. I had to open my mouth to cry and, when I did, some of her magic body fluid flooded my tongue!
I gulped it, tasted it-and immediately all misapprehensions fled, driven into complete discard by that sugary, wonderful savor and flavor! I have since then tasted the finest dulces, candies made by the great masters of Seville, but never have I tasted candies as sweet, as lovely, as that candy of that day!
It rolled, creamy and full, across my tongue, driving my taste buds to extreme joy, trickling down my throat in slow sweetness, far greater in flavor than the beer recently tumbled down my gullet by the considerate Count Ernesto del Valle! And, then and there, instantly, I began to delight in my work, my tongue automatically rolling into a long, penetrating pencil of avid redness!
Eagerly my tongue shot upward, entering her place of feminine bliss. Now the magnificent taste was multiplied many times and I reveled, my mouth filling with her magic sweet juices, my throat relishing their savory slipperiness! Again, all environment retreated, fell into nothing; there was only the Duchess and I, and she had her tongue buried in my vagina, as I had my eager tongue loving her cunt!
And, while this bliss surged through me, a sense of inadequacy also tormented me, piercing my happiness like a sharp knife. How blundering, how short, how inadequate was my virginal tongue! While the tongue of the Duchess, long practiced in this delightful sexual art, was like a rapier-thrusting far inside but not far enough to pierce my virginal veil-moving here and there, a round red cylinder of happiness, confident and competent!
Against my hungry flesh lay her curvaceous body, wriggling and writhing in passion's scarlet grip! How the female serums shot from my womb, eager to touch her probing tongue! Time and time again-time without number-my body spoke in hot reply to her penetrating tongue!
Each time an orgasm shook her curves, she vibrated against me, dark and stabbing nipples pushing against my heaving belly. And she, too, had orgasm without number, one delicious spasm following hard on the heels of the other-and this delighted me, for I knew then she had found me a good- if not competent-sexual companion!
I do not know how long we fucked, the liquid loveliness of the one flooding the groping tongue of the other! I realized, then and there, that there could be no greater love than this. But, alas, I had not yet experienced the throbbing, pounding prick of Count Ernesto del Valle! This, of course, came later, but, at the present, I vacillate from the subject at hand-my maiden voyage into the field of Lesbianism!
I must admit:-and I do so with pride!-that the beautiful Duchess was the first to call surcease from our delightful all-feminine intercourse. One terribly long sexual release struck her, making her bottom wiggle and squirm with delightful glee; then, her knees held my head solidly as, from her glands, poured her womanly substance, my hungry mouth tasting of its sweet womanhood. Then, almost without warning, she came off me and lay beside me, panting in deep gulps, her magnificent breasts rising and pitching.
Her words came in sharp gasps. "How... wonderful, Alicia! How quickly... you learned... my love... "
I stared sightlessly at the ceiling. The thought came that my body should have been in calmness, my sexual demands completely sated; such, though, was not the case, for already sexual desire was arising in my womb, hot and impetuous and desiring expression!
I gave this hurried consideration. I remembered my father pouring his serum into the big behind of my mother. How her broad beam wriggled, absorbing his cock completely and how, once he had ejected his serum, he was through for perhaps the entire night-for a man his age, I reasoned, had not the sexual elasticity of a youth.
Once my father had withdrawn from my mother he had to await hours before again climbing her massive, suet-laden frame. Were he to connect with her directly after bedtime, he'd not make another intrusion until dawn, and then usually at the coaxing of my obese dam!
By the same token, apparently my mother could never get enough of a man. I had happened upon her in the brush a number of times where she was fucking the husbands of various neighbors; and one time six youths had her on her knees, her ass bare and broad in the Andalusian moonlight, as they employed their rigid sabers in an unorthodox sexual maneuver!
Evidently, then, I took after my mother! Here I lay, my body again demanding sex! Were my mother and I, then, women apart? Or did all women desire sex-sex, and still more sex?
I pondered momentarily, over this enticing question.
Truly my dam and I were women doubly blessed! From her heavy loins I undoubtedly had inherited her propensity never to receive enough sexual intercourse! I am serious about this. For what greater joy in the world is there than to be fucked-or to fuck?
Moralists, preachers and padres spout endlessly about the "great sin" of enjoying sexual intercourse without first having marriage. What big hypocrites they are, all of them! Depraved, sexually-starved persons, they seek but one thing: to make others as sexually deprived as they; for, as the old saying goes, misery still loves company!
I gave my thoughts over again to the Duchess. She had already had intercourse with me in the Lesbian and the male-woman position. In both, I had found great and wild delight and, judging from her gasps and actions, she had discovered the same. What other position could two women seek to enjoy sexual Lesbianism?
I could think of no other, but I did not know the sexual habits of my beautiful Duchess. She begged Count Ernesto to release me from my bonds. But my Count, now smoking a long black Cuban cheroot, seemed loathe; indeed, he frowned deeply, and the Duchess pleaded stronger-but to no avail.
She then played the last card in her deck, swearing that if I were not released she would have no more sexual parties with my Count. He considered this for some time, bare legs crossed; I saw his penis had fallen down and lay shriveled and dark, for evidently his sexual passion had momentarily fled his magnificent body-a fact which pleased me not an iota, for I had expected immediate sex from and with him, as soon as the Duchess had properly initiated me into Lesbianism. Finally he said, "Your threats are of no avail, lovely Duchess. You can close your legs on me any time you wish. There are hundreds of other beautiful women lusting to have sex with Count Ernesto del Valle."
Well did I know this to be god's truth. Many were the women of all ages who sought the Count to cover their bodies. Rumor held that if a woman were made pregnant by my Count, he would pay all her childbirth expenses and, in addition, twenty pesetas each month would go to the mother-and twenty pesetas, to the peon, is a big sum of money.
I had noticed that at times my mother apparently had more money than she should have had from field work. These times always occurred at the beginning of each month. Rumor held that my sister, Margarita, was the Count's get. My mother, in her earlier days, was a rather lovely woman, I have been led to believe, although her gross appearance at this time-the time of my seduction-rather belied this fact!
(I bore no child from the Count. Explanation of this fact comes later in this screed. I have, in fact, never borne a child; I hate, detest, loathe brats! Also my cunt is my source of income. Through professional application of my puche, I have risen high in the song-and-dance field. I admit, here and now, that although I am a good dancer, I am not a great dancer.
(My voice also lacks range and polish. Many girls who dance in the line which I, as heroine, head, are much better singers than I, and some also dance much better.
(Then why am I the star of the revues? The answer is simple: I fuck better than they, and my tongue work is much superior! There are no other reasons. Those are reason enough!
(Were I to accidentally become a mother, I am afraid childbirth would stretch my cunt very much and most of my men lovers have mentioned, at one time or the other, how constrictive and clean and tight my puche is!) But I digress. Let me return to the Count Ernesto's discussion with the lovely Duchess. I listened in silence, wondering why the Duchess wanted me freed: What other Lesbian position could we assume? Wisely, I kept my lips sealed. Time would reveal all things.
The Duchess' voice took on a soothing tone. "Well do I know that, my beloved Count, and I used a threat-ah, how foolish, of me, nothing but a foolish female! But I must think, too, of Alicia's sexual education, as, I must say, so must you. And there is one more trait of Lesbianism I feel it my duty to teach her and, at the same time, I feel you want taught to her to make her education complete! Am I wrong, my beloved?"
Count Ernesto considered this, head canted; then, he nodded. "But you untie her," he said lazily.
The Duchess' small fingers immediately went to work on the thongs binding me to the bed. My struggles had pulled the knots tight, but she, with her teeth and hands, managed to untie them. While working, her ass was very close to my face; my tongue shot out, seeking her puche, but her cunt was beyond reach. Had she seen my efforts to make contact I am sure she would have swung her hips around, imprisoning my head again between her bare knees, but she apparently did not see my tongue lance out and I said nothing, wondering what delightful thing she next planned to do to me.
Finally, I was free. The Duchess got me on my hands and knees. I lay with my head on my folded arms looking backwards, for she'd got between my legs-just as my father did when he made anus entrance to my grotesque and corpulent mother.
I frowned. How would she make contact with either my cunt or anus? I needs must move my knees far ahead, I realized, thus leaving my anus and cunt in more plain view.
This I accordingly did. Then, also, the Duchess placed both small hands softly on the top of my ass, pushing my ass down lower. She breathed deeply, her breathing rasping in my ears, so great was her desire to again enjoy sexual ejaculation!
Her hands went to my bare flanks, just above my pelvic bones. She forced my ass down; I felt the harsh hairs of her cunt. I knew then what she wanted to do! My blood sang; a fine sweat coated my body. I remembered reading-or had somebody told me?-that the ring surrounding the anus was filled with nerve ends, much as is the top of the vagina!
She desired to contact these nerve-endings! She would rub her puche against my anus! A thought came to me. I reached back and clasped one of my own buttocks hard in each hand. I pulled hard, thereby spreading my crack very wide. Now my anus lay on a flat plane! To my dismay, her cunt drew back from my anus!
"Ah," the Duchess breathed. "She learns rapidly, my beloved Count! Ah, what an apt, intelligent young pupil we have here, My Lord!"
"She lacks not brains," the Count said.
My blood thrilled to this compliment. I felt the Duchess' hand go down along my crack, seeking my cunt. Her forefinger picked here, there, pulled a hair there, here, and passion shook my buttocks, begging her to make her advances against my anus!
Finally, the tip of her forefinger rested on the top of my cunt, where the polished nail began to play, touching the very vital nerves there. I writhed in passion, my breathing increasing. Blood burst in my arteries, fired my pounding heart, made my nipples, hanging pendant, become rigid bits of stone. I almost cried aloud in my supreme happiness!
Then... her cunt again made contact with my anus!
Her cropped puche came to my anus slowly, carefully, twisting now this direction, then that- for she was, indeed, an expert in this sexual position! My buttocks went back slightly, seeking harder contact; instead, her free hand pushed my ass ahead, for plainly, with my behind in just the right position, my anus lay very bare and flat!
Then, her cunt made absolute and complete contact. I cannot begin to describe the sensation adequately, but shall try. It was as though a thousand little dancing devils surrounded my protruding anus, each with the ability to drive divine lust into each pore, each iota of blood, of my thrilling body! I remember crying aloud in great happiness. And then, her forefinger, at this moment, touched exactly the correct spot on my cunt!
I immediately broke into wild and long sexual secretion! I twisted my hips, oh, so wildly! Her Pubic hairs grated. I felt the lip of her cunt against my anus. The hp hesitated, pushed, retreated, fell back; the other lips of her puche moved in then taking up where the first had left off!
Thus she deliriously drove me into hysterics by changing the lips against my anus: first the right-hand hp, damp and full, tickling and pushing; then the left-hand one, also full, also damp with her warm and sweet body juices! She played me as does a professional piano player pull divine music from his instrument! She was, my Duchess, an artist, also-but in a different field!
How long did she love me in this manner? To this day I cannot definitely tell, for I lost all track of time, space, and circumstances. I was an instrument of flesh and blood; she was the musician. I know she, also, had orgasms; my anus became damp with her white fluids!
Our first passions spent, we began sexual experiments. She would hold her cunt stationary, flat against my anus; I, in turn, would rotate my anus just so slightly, pushing back at this point, yielding at that, the pangs of love shooting through my flesh, liberating my ovaries!
Then, again, my anus would remain stationary- seemingly welded to one spot-and her cunt would rotate around my brownness-oh, how majestic, how magnificent!-with its lips touching here then there, finding the center of my anus, tripping along its outer rim-until at last, passion caught us both, and we broke into violent movements, spending our final energies in one grand and scarlet burst of lust and love!
Again, I felt deep pride, for she was the first to break. She left me then, lips loving my anus as the two sections parted, and when she spoke to Count Ernesto her panting voice held great pride.
"Already, my Count, she is very competent!"
Count Ernesto motioned with his cheroot! BOOK TWO There is no "abnormal" sex. All forms of sexual embraces-either between man and man or woman and woman-are normal.
Not until the coming of the moneychangers and the men of the cloth was sex-any form of sex-considered sinful.
Count Ernesto del Valle from his volume, Introduction to Sexual Practices.
CHAPTER ONE
I had expected my Count to have sexual intercourse with me immediately upon the termination of my sessions with the beautiful Duchess. I was disappointed. My Count was not in the mood!
He got slowly to his feet. He picked up his empty beer bottle. I lay with knees bent and my puche in plain view, invitation in my eyes and in my body- but my Count merely grabbed his bottle by its larger part, neck extended.
He stepped toward me, the bottle held low, the neck pointed toward my cunt. A moment of fear gripped me. Did he intend to jam the bottle, neck foremost, into my cunt?
I sensed anger in him. Anger showed in the slight tightness of his lips, the set of his determined, masterful jaw, and in his quick stride. For one moment, the bottle's neck posed over my cunt, and I then and there-in a flash decision!-decided not to flinch or draw back!
He was my lord, my master. Spanish law and customs put my very life into his hands! I sensed he was angry because he'd had to sit with a hard-on while the Duchess and I had cavorted. I had noticed, toward the last, that his stiff prick had fallen, as related. A man cannot walk around forever with a stiff cock, I realized. Sooner or later it will fall!
And there he stood, bottle poised; there stood the naked Duchess, hands clasped to her huge teats, watching him in fascination. I braced myself for the plunge of the bottle into my vagina. I would give not an inch!
The bottle hesitated, my Count's muscles bunched; now, I thought, the bottle comes down- and indeed it did come down an inch or so and then my count's muscles froze, the bottle stopping. He seemed to be speaking to himself.
"No, the bottle would break her maidenhead!"
Scowling angrily, he threw the bottle on the floor. It broke into a thousand cascading shards of glass. Then he whirled, strode to the door; the last I saw were his buttocks, big and wide, as the door slammed shut!
I leaped from bed. "Master, master! Come back -I am yours... all yours-beloved! Come back- fuck me, master!"
He didn't return.
"It was all my fault," the Duchess wailed. "He sat there with a hard-on, a patient man-and I took too much time fucking you, Alicia!"
She spoke the truth. I raised another bottle to strike her, but she held her head in her shaking hands; wild sobs shook her lovely shoulders. I couldn't hit her. I lowered the bottle. My mouth was filled with dry ashes.
Without another word, the Duchess also fled; again I saw a pair of buttocks leave-but these were feminine and soft and wide-and I was alone!
I sat on the bed trying to think. Things had happened so swiftly I was confused. I knew the Count to be a man of sudden whims; he changed dispositions readily and instantly.
He could be smilingly gracious one moment; the next, he was ready to kill. Some even claimed he bordered on raw insanity. But this latter idea was not in my mind. Only one thought burned there: I had lost! I had lost! I had lost! Now I must pack my meager belongings in my shoebox and return to my hatred jacal, once again to slave in corn and cotton. That damned Duchess! That double-damned bitch! Because of her driving desire to have sex-and more sex!-with me she'd driven the Count to distraction-and I had lost all... all!
Knuckles sounded softly on the heavy oaken door My anger rose again-had the Duchess returned? If she were outside, indeed would I crash the empty beer bottle over her skull!
"Come in!"
But it was not the brazen Duchess who entered. A timid serving girl bearing a huge pile of feminine garments, came hesitantly into the room, genuflecting three times despite her piled-high burden.
"The master has sent you your wardrobe, Lady Alicia!"
Lady Alicia! My heart swelled, my vision swam! Why did this slattern, this slut, call me Lady? Instantly, I understood; my blood ran wild in pride. My Count had already dubbed me his Lady! He had told this stumbling bitch to so address me!
He did not intend to cast me aside. He would hold me in his castle and fuck me until tired of me and then he would undoubtedly hand me on to one of his friends or send me to Madrid to singing and dancing school! Yes, he'd promised he'd have me taught singing and dancing! And, as he had said, he never, never went back on his word!
How, indeed, lucky I was! Me, a mere country bumpkin, catching the eye of this great, famous man! I told the maid to put the clothing on the bed. She did this and then backed to the door, head down; at the door, she genuflected twice, and then was gone!
Eagerly, I tore into the clothing. Everything a woman desired was there-short, brief-cut whore's panties so tight they fit into the crack of the ass and outlined the puche completely. In fact, they fit so skin-tight they sucked back into my cunt, and showed its length clearly for all who had occasion to look! Oh, if the Count were here now!
Shimmering Canton silk loved my hairy anus. Never before had I had silk clothing! My dresses had been rough cotton, my underthings field sacking!
I was indeed a Lady!
Would my good fortune continue? All depended upon the whims of Count Ernesto. Never would I anger him in any manner! I had a wild and strong temper, I knew; this I must control as far as my Count was concerned!
I lifted a shimmeringly-thin Turkish brassiere to my heaving teats. Alas, the bra covered but my nipples; I scowled, standing before the mirror. Shouldn't a brassiere cover all of a girl's bounding breasts?
Heretofore my bras had also been made of gunny sacking. When a girl lifts heavy loads, her teats need uplifting protection. I slipped my arms into the shoulder cords of this flimsy bra. Yes, it covered only my dark, rising nipples. I tied the slender cord behind my smooth back. The cups fit over my nipples as if especially constructed for my teats!
I swayed this way, then that, turned, looked over my shoulder-the bra and panties made me a new, sexy woman! How my Count's mouth would water when he saw me wearing only bra and panties! How great that day would be! My body and soul lusted for that great moment!
I pulled sheer silk stocking over my shapely legs, reveling in their smooth sleekness! My legs glistened in shimmering loveliness. I selected a dark silk, form-fitting gown. It had a very low neckline; it loved my small waist; it accentuated the deep canyon between my breasts. I looked down at my teats in gasping wonder. What great and hard breasts I had!
No wonder men stared at my teats. No wonder mouths worked as I walked by. I eagerly glanced at my reflection in the full-length mirror!
My eyes instantly fell on my hair. It was a terrible thing-all mussed from my bed sessions with the Duchess! I did it up to the best of my ability, finding a comb on the dresser. I then turned my attention to my face. It appeared somewhat pale, but it had reason, I thought: Not many women were fortunate to go through the exciting, soul-stirring sex bouts the Duchess and I had enjoyed! I had a right to look a little peaked!
As I turned before the mirror, the black-silk dress caught the shadows and light, illuminating my high-breasted, small waisted figure. I frowned at my hips. Were they too large for my small stature? Or did they merely seem larger than usual because they had so recently been worked so hard?
Shoes, oh, yes, shoes -I found them, black-morocco calf, suave and polished, with high heels. I slipped my eager feet into them. To date I had gone barefooted or ugly and heavy huaraches had been my footwear. I stood on one leg, my other leg raised, knee bent, and I went to turn-I lurched, stumbled, and fell in a heap, my dress flying up and exposing my buttocks. There I sat before the mirror, anger curving my lips because I didn't know how to wear high heels!
I got cautiously to my feet and took a few steps. My entire body balance was out of line; it was like learning to walk again! Doggedly, I walked the length of the room, turned back, retraced my steps. I caught onto the art. Somebody knocked at the door!
The knock was masculinely loud. My Count! He had come to take my womanhood! Despite my high heels, I hurried to the door. My heart fell. A well-dressed heavy-set woman, wearing a maid's small while apron, stood there. She held a tray of combs and brushes.
"My Master has sent me to do your hair, My Lady!"
I dined with the Count that evening in his private suite. No other guests occupied the mahogany table. Most of the exotic dishes were foreign to me, of course. I blushingly admitted I had no table manners. I carefully watched my Count and used the knife and fork and spoon as he used them.
Coal-black Moor serving-girls slipped in and out, catering to our wants. Candlelight danced over my lover's masculine face, adding luster to his deep-set eyes. We ate in silence that grew heavy to me. I was glad, in one sense, when my Count began to speak slowly, as though conversing with himself.
"Perhaps I should never have taken you from the fields, Alicia," he said. "Perhaps I am doing you a great disservice."
I sat frozen, fork suspended, my heart hammering in my throat, making the small pulse there leap!
"Yet I do owe your family a great debt," he continued. He glanced at me. "May I speak frankly?"
"Certainly, My Lord."
"I shall then be blunt. I say I owe your family a debt. That is true. Your sire has been a long and faithful servant in my cause. Your mother-fat now, gross, almost ugly- Did you know that from your mother I took her maidenhead?"
My eyebrows lifted. This was new to me. I'd been under the impression, from what my mother said, that my mother had gone to her marriage bed with my father a virgin! Count Ernesto gave me brief details.
He was but a few years older than my mother. He had seduced my mother when she'd been eleven and he seventeen. They'd had sexual relationships up to the time my father and mother married. My suspicions were proven true. He openly admitted that my sister Margarita was his daughter and he suspected that Consuelo and Elsa, two of my sisters, were also his get.
Sudden suspicion struck me. Was he perhaps my sire, too? I put the question to him. He frowned deeply. He paused for some time before answering.
"I cannot say for sure, my love. Your mother and I still connect sexually occasionally, you know. She comes to the palace presumably on some errand. There are times when I desire a woman with a very big ass and enormous teats, and your mother has both.
"I have watched your facial features closely sometimes, when you worked in my fields and were unaware of my eyes. I can see no features of mine in your visage, although sometimes you do remind me of my dead younger brother-that is, you have certain mannerisms he had, God bless his sleeping soul!"
"Why did you say you were somewhat sorry for taking me from the fields?"
"Perhaps association with me shall be your ruination! You are young and impulsive, my sweet. You showed that today when having intercourse with the Duchess, who has broken in many a girl for me. I have a nation-wide reputation as a cocks-man, you know."
He spoke in pride. He had reason to be proud. I was indeed a fortunate girl. Hundreds of other girls -peon maidens-working in his fields lusted for him to take them to his bed and board.
I promised to be faithful to him. While he and I were in service with the other, I swore I'd not let another man touch me. He laughed at this and said, "Please, no such promises, my love! Your blood is hot Andulusian blood! One should never use the word never, you know!"
Tears filled my eyes. "My Lord," I pleaded, "I want to grow, be big-climb high in the world. I want to sing before thousands, dance before millions!- Without you, my sweet, my life would be that of a clod in the field, nothing more!"
He said no more. We finished our sumptuous repast in silence, the little bird of fear pecking at my heart. I expected him to take me to his bed after the meal. Instead, he bowed from the waist, immaculate in a black suit and white bow, and summoned a heavy-set woman to escort me to my bedroom.
"Will our Master come to me later?" I asked, lips trembling.
The big middle-aged woman bowed. "That I do not know, little one. I am not the Master. His ways are strange. And his ways are known only to one person-he, himself."
She took her leave.
I started to undress, then I ceased undressing. Maybe Count Ernesto wished to undress me before bedding me and claiming my virginity. I had heard that some men love to undress their women and thus prolong the loveliness of love, building a solid feeling of mutual rapport before finally launching their cocks deep into the cunts of their loved ones.
I half-undressed, thinking surely the Count would want me completely nude; then I dressed again, feeling sure he'd want to disrobe me-and the next thing I knew dawn seeped through the tall pointed windows. I had fallen asleep fully garbed on the bed. And my Master had not come to claim me as his bride!
Or had he come... and knocked? And I, so deep in sleep, had I not heard him? I realized then I'd not locked the huge stout door. He could have entered at his will... had he come.
Silent anger tugged my belly. I felt slighted, thrown aside. Count Ernesto had taken me from the fields, secreted me in a closet to gather the finer techniques of love-making between him and the Duchess; he had allowed me to intermingle sexually with the Duchess-and now he'd not even bothered to come to my room and make me a woman!
Hurriedly, I undressed. I didn't want anybody to enter and find me clothed as the night before! The middle-aged woman brought me my tray. To my question as to the whereabouts of the Count she informed me that the Count had accompanied the Duchess to Madrid by stage.
My heart catapulted! Anger stormed my sinews! No wonder my Count hadn't spent the night wrapped in red sex with me! He had expended his manhood on the luscious body of the Duchess!
I had wondered why the gracious Duchess had not dined with us last night, but had not asked. Now I openly asked where she'd spent the night. Relief flooded me. The Duchess had not spent the night in this castle. She'd gone to a neighboring hacienda to visit and had slept there! "Did the Master sleep alone?" I ventured.
The woman smiled faintly. "One does not ask what the Master does with his time, Lady Alicia."
I had been put into place! The maid further explained: the Duchess had returned to the Count's castle but an hour ago and had requested that the castle's coach take her to Madrid, about a hundred kilometros distance.
"When will my Lord return?"
Heavy shoulders shrugged. "One never knows, Lady Alicia. Count Ernesto is very unpredictable."
I looked down at the silver salver. Poached eggs, jelly, and toasted bread-yes, bread-the kind the millionaires eat!-not flat and ugly tortillas. I had never eaten bread before. And butter too! I had tasted mantequilla once, when a mere child; my mother had visited Count Ernesto's castle and stolen a little butter!
My eyes fell on a small glass filled with a dark liquid. "What is that?"
"That is a drink the Count ordered me to see that you drank, Lady Alicia. It builds up the blood and gives one much strength! It comes from the romantic island of Tasmania, somewhere in the Southern Seas."
"I must drink it?"
"So are the Count's good orders, my lovely."
I raised the tiny vial. If my Count had ordered me to partake of this beverage then I would gladly drink it. It was only a mouthful and tasted bittersweet. "Each morning you must drink a glass of that," the maid said.
She placed my breakfast on the small table and retired. I wondered about the magic drink I had taken. I later discovered that if a woman drank this brew she could fuck and fuck and never become pregnant. Later, the Count told me that... when we'd been in bed...
But, at this moment, I was not in bed with the Count.
I was very much alone!
CHAPTER TWO
The Count was gone for eight days. For me they were long and weary days, for my cunt ached for his cock. My maidenhead burned my belly. I wanted my veil pierced by his prick.
I lived the life of a queen. Each afternoon musicians serenaded me with the sweet music to the theme songs of then-popular revues and operettas. Perhaps a word of explanation is now necessary.
The operetta, as an entertainment medium, was rapidly developing, the two great composers at this time being Jacques Offenbach and Johann Strauss the Younger. Prima donnas demanded fabulous sums and were the toasts of courts and the opera houses.
Standing there in the great reception hall, I sang the title roles of La Vie Parisienne and La Belle Helene of the great Offenbach, having learned the words from sheet music I had somehow obtained. The palace guard and servants were my audience, and a very appreciative one they were; they stood in silence, and for the first time I sang before an audience. My heart knew no greater thrill. My voice, although unlearned, soared to great heights, filling the dark hall with bursting music.
I sang the theme song from the great Johann Strauss the Younger's magnificent Tales of the Vienna Woods. My orchestra was splendid, or so it seemed to me at that time; the flutes faded in and out at the proper moments, the violins complementing in dulcet tones. My cup was full. I forgot the terrible sexual longings burning my vagina, tormenting my womb! I forgot the negligence of my Count Ernesto! I sang and sang, and my blood thrilled and danced!
Great applause swelled after each rendition. This to my ears was an eternal bliss! My audience demanded more and more; I gladly complied. I realize now my singing was rough and lacked finesse. I realize, also, that these poor music-starved peasants would have listened to any music with great abandon, even the croaking of a crow if the crow kept time with the muted strings!
I had access to the Count's music hall. There were pianos and organs and much sheet music. One musician-a young handsome man-taught me a little about the piano. We sat on the same bench. His buttocks touched my hip; my blood became fire. I wanted to pull up my dress, strip off my sheer panties, and engage him sexually there on the marble floor!
Alicia later sang the lead roles in the many operettas of Gilbert and Sullivan. Victor Herbert and Sigmund Romberg, these concerts taking place in many great cities in the world. Her voice won no loud acclaim, but her stage decorum, critics wrote, was without flaw.
-Translator's note.
Wisely, I kept my decorum. I would be released into womanhood by only one man, I swore, and he would by my Count! How my soul and body ached that he return and impale me with his huge and educated prick!
The musicians made sexual advancements toward me, but no male peon working in the castle dared to be that brave. Hands ran lovingly over the curvature of my ass, wanted to nestle between the valley of my thighs. I learned, then and there, one lesson about musicians that I have kept to good stead: all musicians-male, of course-look upon themselves as great cocksmen!
My maid wanted to become my friend but I held her at arm's length, thinking she was a Lesbian and, if I consorted with her in the six-and-nine position, she might report this conduct to the Count-and then, perhaps, all would be over! So I was polite to the heavy-set woman but did not let her become too familiar, although she kept continuously crossing the line of familiarity.
"I miss the Master," she said sadly one day. "You know, he used to fuck me at least every two days, Lady Alicia."
I glanced at her. Big, heavy as my mother, wide of beam, huge of teats-a human milk cow, now dry of glands because of lack of calf! I could not imagine that Count wanting sex with such.
"I wish you'd not talk so rough," I said, summoning my lady-like demeanor.
She laughed shortly. "Let us face facts, my dear. You are no lady of royal blood. You are just a field hand whom the Count wishes to fuck for a while. Undoubtedly you have your virginal veil. He loves to pierce the maidenheads of young virgins, you know. Had you not your veil you'd not be here!"
"Please- "Count Ernesto will fuck you for a while and then gently shuffle you out or onto one of his friends. I've seen it done before-oh, many, many times. But us big-assed women-well, we stay, for some reason."
I remembered Count Ernesto telling me that he sometimes engaged my obese dam in sexual duel. Actually this maid was not as large as my mother, I realized. But I wanted no more of this talk and told the maid so; but she laughed and continued.
"Possibly you do not know that many times the Count's huge blade pierces your mother's cunt?"
"He told me so, maid."
"I have seen them engaged in sexual combat. Some afternoons Count Ernesto gets both me and your mother into his bedroom. He makes us disrobe stark naked; he is naked, also.
"We he on our sides on the bed facing each other. The Count goes between us, his head level with our teats. He then sucks whichever nipple his fancy seeks. When passion becomes too great in him he engages one of us in sex and usually from behind, seeking the construction of the anus."
"Begone," I ordered angrily.
"Yes, he will use you for a while, but not too long. Make plans, young lady. Lay aside all the gold you can."
"I said begone, remember!"
"Would you like to see me and my dog perform?"
"Dog?"
"Yes. Come to my room at two this afternoon, please!" And she was gone, huge hips wobbling.
I snorted to myself! I'd not be there! I frowned. A female... and a dog? Needless to say, I was there!
The maid lived in the servants' quarters. Because she fucked the Count, she had special privileges; therefore she lived in a nice little cottage, complete with kitchen. "I am so happy you came, Alicia. I was just about to start without you!"
I then saw the dog.
He was a pekingese, dark tan in color, his wiry body weighing about three kilogramos, no more. He ran barking to me and immediately lifted his leg and pissed on my shin! I kicked at him, but he scampered away, barking happily. The maid handed me a towel.
"Do not be angry with Pierre," she said. "He always pisses on people that he likes. You should consider yourself flattered! He won't piss on somebody he instinctively dislikes!"
I mopped my shin. I noticed the dog now walked on his small hind legs, forelegs extended like small arms. "He wants me to go into my act," the maid said. "Please be seated, darling." I sat on a chair by the table. The maid stood in the room's center. Now the little peke, still on hind legs, walked around her. He stopped twice. He first lilted his left leg to piss on her right shin. He then lifted his right leg and wetted the left shin. "A trick I taught him," his mistress said happily. "Pierre is intelligent enough to be prime minister of Spain, I do believe."
"Is that all?" I asked.
Her thick lips smiled. "Oh, no, that is just the preliminary. Pierre is happy, no?"
Pierre danced, small eyes burning, his gaze on his mistress. To my surprise, the heavy woman started disrobing!
She undressed with the regality and majesty of a lovely girl stripping before one of the exclusive cafe and salon crowds. To my surprise, her grotesque body suddenly assumed a silken grace. She whirled, she bowed, she danced, even without music; the Pekingese danced around her, tongue out now, slobber on his tiny bottom jaw.
Before I knew it, the maid had divested her body of her dress, seemingly whisking the dress away, and I realized she had sewed it especially for this act. My mind ran ahead. How would this act end? All shows must have a climax, I knew!
She stood on tiptoe, wriggled her ample hips, fingers hooked under the elastic rim of her sheer panties, which I noticed were made of silk-evidently Count Ernesto gave all his whores silk panties! Her panties slid down, moving over her jutting buttocks, slid down her heavy thighs, landed in a heap around her high-heeled shoes, then were kicked away.
The peke caught the panties. He trotted with them to a couch, where he laid them in a neat formation. Then he leaped back to his mistress, stood on his hind legs, and assumed a pose of supplication.
"Dance, Pierre, dance for the lady!"
Little Pierre danced bravely. I noticed his beady eyes were riveted on his mistress' cunt. The woman had a huge mat of pubic hair that ran even above her navel! Her huge hips worked, her buttocks opened and closed, and I saw her anus, round and coated with dark, long hairs!
Mistress and dog worked to a frenzy, dancing gracefully. Never once did the little dog bark. More saliva crept out of his gaping little mouth, his red tongue sliding back and forth, his tiny canine teeth white and shiny. Suddenly his mistress dropped to her hands and knees.
"My brassiere, Pierre love! My brassiere!" she hollered.
With one bound, the peke landed flatly on the broad bovine back. He began biting the knot of the maid's bra. He wriggled this way, then that, ass moving, forelegs braced, hind legs stiff, as his teeth fought the knot, which finally came loose. The bra had no shoulder strings. It dropped onto the floor. The peke leaped down.
"The brassiere to the couch, Pierre!"
Again, the little dog went to the couch, where he laid the brassiere carefully beside the silk panties. He then returned to his mistress, still on hands and knees, her huge ass pointing toward me, anus completely clear now with her cunt, long and hairy, below her anus.
The peke faced his mistress. His little tail vibrated happily. His mistress asked, "Cunt?"
He just stood there, watching her wide face. I stared in fascination. A rapport had grown between woman and dog. You could feel it vibrate in the silent air.
"Asshole, Pierre?"
To my surprise, the dog actually nodded! Yes, indeed he did; a sharp nod. The woman glanced at me, smiling happily. "I told you he should be prime minister!" She looked back at the peke. "Right now, Pierre? Or later?"
Again, the dog nodded. I realized he wanted her asshole right now. She seemed to debate, big lips pursed. The dog watched carefully. His emotions sank, for he feared she'd drive him to her cunt and not her asshole!
Finally she said, "Asshole it is, my love! It's all yours, Pierre!"
Never did I see an animal so happy! He ran around the room, leaped over my lap, barking and happy-then, he skidded to a stop, directly behind his mistress, who had sunk down slightly, her huge buttocks just an inch or so above the floor. And little Pierre stood there, looking at her huge asshole, his head cocked to one side, apparently waiting another command, which soon came.
"Love me, Pierre!"
Whining eagerly, tiny Pierre gingerly approached the huge mass of suet, nose extended, nostrils quivering. He inserted his nose directly into the deep canyon. Suddenly, the maid compressed her two buttocks, almost entrapping the dog's snout; indeed, had the canine not leaped rapidly back, his nose would have been in a snare!
His mistress scolded him viciously. "He always tries to go direct to my asshole," she told me. "He's better trained than that! He knows he should work up to the asshole in a circulatory motion. But he's just like some men! They don't want to love a girl a bit! They want to immediately jam their big prick into her cunt whether the cunt is ready or not!"
The little peke stood still, looking at the buttocks, now unfolding slowly like a great flower, with the anus as the brown center. Finally the maid's huge ass was spread again, and again the tiny canine whined.
"Pierre, love me!" This time the maid's voice was laden with stronger command.
The dog minced forward. I expected his tongue to lick out, flick the gaping anus; instead, he began licking an area on the right buttock about three inches from the anus. He licked a circle around the asshole, small head bobbing, tiny tongue spread, red and damp.
I saw what he was doing. He was licking in a circle, making the circle smaller each time over the big buttocks; finally, his tongue would be centered directly on the asshole itself. I wondered how many days of training had gone into his education to teach him this maneuver!
I looked at the maid's wide face. Her ugly visage showed great pleasure. Her huge mouth gaped slightly open. Her nostrils opened and sank with deep, disturbed breathing. The closer the red tongue worked to the anus, the greater became the mistress' pleasure.
Sobbing happiness clogged her gurgling throat. Soon she began keening sharply. The knife-edged whine affected the little dog. His tiny front feet lifted and fell in military cadence. I stared in amazement. I had never before believed a dog could be that intelligent!
Now he had narrowed down the circle, working within her deep declivity. One more time around and he would land directly on his goal! His joy now matched that of his mistress! His tiny forefeet stomped. He whined sharply. Now, now, now-and then, he was directly over her anus!
I saw something then I would never have believed possible had I not seen it with my own eyes. From where I sat I could clearly see the peke's tongue. While licking the flesh of the female, the tongue had been flat. But, upon entering the woman's asshole, the tongue had instantly rolled itself into a small red cylinder!
Miraculous indeed was the sudden change in the dog's tongue! Now his tongue was rigid as a man's peter, although much smaller! How the little dog must have practiced and practiced to develop tongue muscles that would produce such a sudden miracle!
Without hesitation, the tongue pierced the gaping anus. It shot deeply into the hair-ringed asshole. The maid now held a buttock in each hand. Her straining fingers dug deep into her flesh as she pulled her crevice wider and wider so the dog's nose could penetrate further into her huge declivity!
I clearly saw the dog's tongue move back and forth in the anus. And the peke? He went wild with sexual lust. He spread his front legs wide; he pushed with all his might to get his nose in deeper! His tail vibrated like mad. His little hind legs, spread wide, trembled with anticipation!
Gargling sounds echoed in the dog's throat. He swallowed and swallowed, as if taking in some magic liquid. The happy cries of his mistress cut the air. I again looked at her face. Passion had pulled it from normality, making the mouth brutal, the eyes piggish. She was in a different world, I realized.
I do not know how many minutes the dog's tongue fucked the woman. I was completely fascinated. A completely new area of sexual practice and experience had been opened to me. I now knew why wealthy dowagers always carried lap dogs, most of them of the Chinese breed.
The finale came about slowly, as all good finales should. Carefully, slowly, the maid's hands lost strength; slowly, surely, her huge buttocks started to close. The dog became aware of this canyon of flesh capsizing in on him. His efforts became more frantic. His tongue shot in and out, red and round and stiff. The buttocks closed in, more, more, more. I saw him cast a sudden wary eye at an approaching mound of feminine flesh. He whined.
But just as slowly, the flesh, closing in as it did, pushed his snout further and further from the anus he so dearly loved. He whined in supreme disappointment, but if he didn't want his tongue-and nose-trapped, he had to withdraw. Grudgingly, he gave ground; finally, the hands fell. The buttocks fitted. There was no room for the dog's schnozzle!
The maid remained kneeling, legs slightly apart. I heard her shrill breathing. The dog stood as though uncertain. Suddenly, he darted between her legs, threw himself on his back-his nose and tongue snaked upward, entering her cunt in one fierce rapid gesture.
The obese maid came instantly to angered life.
She rolled over, catching the dog on one thigh. Her weight threw him across the room. He slid, got to his feet; he yelped, more in anger than in pain.
He now sat with his tongue fawning, his tail wriggling-plainly he asked his mistress's forgiveness! The fat maid sat with her heavy legs spread wide apart and cursed him savagely. Finally the peke slunk onto the couch where he lay with his intelligent head on his forelegs, humiliation and pain reflecting in his wounded brown eyes.
"The stupid son-of-a-bitch! That's twice in the last two days he's tried to sneak away from my asshole and put his attention on my cunt!"
"What's wrong with that?" I innocently asked.
"You know nothing about lap dogs! The asshole is one operation-the cunt an entirely different one! Each is a separate and independent act! Of course, a dog likes the asshole better than the cunt, or maybe vice versa.
"So he goes to the opening that pleases him the most. But what he likes might not be what I like! When I put him on the cunt, I want him on the cunt-and nowhere else.
"The little son-of-a-bitch knows better than that!"
I could only nod.
CHAPTER THREE
The maid finally lumbered to the couch, heavy breasts jouncing, and patted the peke's broad head. His tongue ran out and kissed her hand. His tongue, I quickly noticed, was now flat, not round and pointed!
"Sometimes I am too mean to Pierre," she cooed. "I am too much a creature of passion, Lady Alicia. But I hate him when he tries to pull tricks on me! Once on my asshole, I expect him to finish on the asshole-and the same goes for my cunt. Would you like tea?"
"Thank you, yes."
She waddled into her small kitchen. "Count Ernesto loves the asshole. Yes, he loves the anus very much. And he says my asshole is so very tight." She giggled childishly. "Can you keep a secret?"
"Certainly."
"Between Count Ernesto's cock-and the dog's tongue-in my asshole, which do you think pleases me the most?"
I said I had no idea.
"For god's sake, don't tell the Count this! But of the two I'd much rather work the asshole with Pierre's tongue!"
I asked why.
She returned with tea and pan. "I really don't know, now you mention it." She grew thoughtful. "Count Ernesto's cock fills me more than Pierre's tongue, true. And the Count is not circumcised, which is good. When his cock goes in and out the foreskin tickles much. But Pierre's tongue... well, it makes me itchy and good all over!"
She cocked her big head. "I'd say the dog's tongue reaches more sensitive areas in my colon. Would you like to fuck Pierre? He's not fucked anybody but me for a long time. And I do believe the little fellow is like most men-he occasionally likes a stray piece of ass!"
Secretly, I lusted to have Pierre's dancing tongue penetrate my cunt. I wondered if a peke's tongue could shatter my maidenhead. I remembered the Duchess' tongue lightly touching my virginal veil. The Duchess had been careful, and had not broken my hymen, though! But would the dog be as equally careful? Or wasn't his tongue long enough to reach far up toward my vagina?
"I'd best wait for Count Ernesto's return," I murmured.
"He might come back today-or a month from now! Sometimes he runs into strange ass and fucks for days and days! He's totally unreliable in that respect!"
My cunt burned for Pierre's tongue. "It is still best I wait."
"You're a virgin?" Her eyes narrowed shrewishly. "Your maidenhead has never been broken?"
I blushed deeply. I felt ashamed of myself. A girl my age-in that day and age-well, she should have entertained many men sexually! I blurted out, "Yes, I am a virgin!"
A knowing light entered her scheming eyes. "I wondered why Count Ernesto picked you from so many others more lovely!" Oh, she had a blunt tongue, the bitch! "I thought you must be a virgin. Count Ernesto has a hobby of deflowering virgins, you know!"
She told me nothing new. "How interesting... "
"You're afraid Pierre's tongue might break your maidenhead?"
I had gone this far. Why not go all the way? "Could it?"
Her white teeth showed in a laugh. "No, it is too short! His little tongue-well, it can't penetrate that deeply! Later I'll show you Pierre at work on my cunt! He's a regular cunt hound!"
She laughed uproariously at her crude pun!
She had bought Pierre two years ago, a mere puppy. She had educated him and trained him to be a lap dog by herself.
"And it's no easy job, I can assure you. I worked and worked with him, even to stuffing honey up my cunt and ass, but he finally caught on. He's worth a small fortune today, but I'd never sell him. And he's got many good years ahead of him, too, being just a young dog."
She told me that she'd heard that a French poet who had made much money in pornography had a training kennel in Paris where he educated lap dogs. The man was making a fortune. He'd discovered the peke made the ideal lap dog. Women came from all over the world to buy his dogs, which commanded fabulous prices. I made a mental note of this. When I became famous and wealthy I would buy one of this poet's dogs.
This rumor was true. This dog school was founded by the French Impressionist poet, Jean-Paul Paul, who made a fortune from lap dogs.
"Later on I shall let Pierre perform on my cunt," the maid said. "If you are looking for a man, the stable grooms are anxious to fuck. When I need a piece from a man I just saunter out to the stables."
"My virginity, remember?"
"Oh, yes, that's right! My memory lately is very bad!"
We sipped tea. She seemed nervous. Her hands shook slightly. She noticed I'd noticed her nervousness.
"I am always rather shaky after Pierre has loved my anus," she confessed. "I don't know why. The passion takes so much from me, I guess. But after Pierre does his cunt work on me for some reason my nerves settle!"
I wanted to ask her to describe the sensations caused by the dog's tongue inserting into her anus but discreetly refrained. The desire to copulate with Pierre surged in my sinews!
"Have you ever fucked a woman?" She shot the question unexpectedly, hoping to catch me off-guard. Her bluntness both angered and embarrassed me. She asked questions only a very close friend should ask, and she definitely was not a near friend!
I would have quit her company had I not wanted to see little Pierre perform further sexual exploits! Something told me she gossiped and would make trouble. I wanted to lie with her in Lesbian connection, yes-but, if I did so, she might report back to Count Ernesto, who might in turn kick me out for being unfaithful.
"I have never lain with either man or woman," I said.
"Would you like to fuck me? And have me fuck you?" Her eyes glowed. "I think that fucking a woman-and getting fucked by one-is much more thrilling than laying with a man!"
"Not today, thank you. I am interested, though, in seeing your sweet little canine perform other sexual entrances."
"Pierre has already tasted my asshole. I have but two more entries he can cover-my mouth and my cunt."
I hid my shock. The little dog fucked her in the mouth? Was it possible? "I would like to see Pierre use whichever orifice you wish," I said.
I looked at her huge breasts. Dark nipples protruded. I imagined my Lips sucking one of those nipples. I imagined it growing immediately hard and up-jutting under my probing Lips. My body longed to take a nipple in my mouth; by sheer will power, I controlled my rampant emotions!
"My throat, for some reason, is dry," the maid said, "so therefore I believe I'll take Pierre in my mouth!"
She waddled to her feet, made a circle around the rug; Pierre raised his head, ears pricked, watching closely, head cocked. Evidently her gesture of making a circle warned him that more sex lay ahead.
Pierre whined, watching. "I'll move in this short circle five times," the maid said. "When I move to the right like this, it means that Pierre uses my mouth. When I move left, he uses my cunt. Sometimes he gets confused. He is always too anxious. Now I shall lie down on the rug. He should take my mouth. Let us see. Come, Pierre!"
The pekingese leaped from his couch. He circled the mass of human flesh lying sprawled, legs wide apart with one knee bent. I saw clearly the woman's cunt and anus. Pierre whined and circled her. He sniffed her ass, her armpits, her mouth, then returned to her hips, nose on her cunt. I saw the maid frown fiercely. It looked as though Pierre wanted her cunt. I imagined her suddenly kicking the little dog across the room. I wanted to cry out to Pierre that he was to go to the mouth.
He scrambled over a huge thigh. He stood between her legs, nose on her cunt, his nose wriggling, smelling. The maid said nothing, but her lips were hard together, her eyes glistening pinpoints. Pierre whimpered softly. He put both front feet on her belly above her cunt. I thought sure he'd mount her from that angle. I saw the maid's left leg become tense. With it she'd kick the dog. Then surprise hit me!
For he gave the cunt no more attention; instead, he scrambled up the maid's belly. I noticed, for the first time, that his little toenails had been cut back so he'd not scratch her. He walked up her belly. He passed between her huge pointed breasts. He paused there, but just for a moment.
His small tongue licked right, sweeping across at nipple, then, he turned his head, his tongue of out again, and he loved the other nipple. The aid's body suddenly twisted with passion. Pierre stood braced, looking at her face. Her words came in gasps.
"I've tried and tried to get him to pay more attention to my nipples! He just doesn't want to, for some reason! He is definitely not a nipple dog!
"I wish I could get him some day on a woman who is nursing a child. If he found milk in a nipple, he might develop a great interest for breasts! But I've not found a woman like that so far. He just loves milk!"
I watched Pierre closely. He'd begun licking his mistress's jaw. His tongue went out, broad and flat; he cleaned the skin area under the chin, then went up the right side, lovingly cleaning behind the ear, then cleaning the ear itself. I saw his tongue dart into the hole of her ear. It was not round and pointed as it had been when it penetrated her anus.
He cleaned her ear, then went down her chin and went up the other side of her face, where he administered to that ear. His penis was out now-red and pencil-small, with a small ball showing next to his foreskin-the ball with which a dog locked himself securely onto the bitch!
I wondered how he would take his mistress's mouth. Would he sit sideways on her head, hind feet and front feet braced on the floor? Or would he back up on her face, sitting over her eyes, prick lancing in and out of her mouth?
He could attain yet another position. He could climb on her face with his nose pointing toward her hair. I could see no other position possible. He solved this question by moving upward over his mistress's face. He licked her nose cleanly, then moved on, his prick trailing her chin. I noticed her mouth was closed. Saliva hung in bubbles on her mouth's comers.
"Watch from the side," she gasped. "I intend to tease his pecker. He loves that. He gets very excited. He's like a man who wants it right now, and the woman stalls him off by skinning back his cock!"
I moved to the side, squatting slightly, to watch. Pierre's little cock, dripping a white fluid slightly, moved up her chin, closer and closer to her mouth -until, finally, it anchored between her compressed lips!
Carefully, the whining dog adjusted his hips so his pecker was directly over the closed mouth. His hips went downward; they met her closed lips. His cock couldn't enter. He whined, wriggled his hips more; still, her lips held. His red little prick moved back and forth along her lips, seeking vain entrance. His whining took on a tragic note!
I couldn't see the maid's eyes. The dog's body covered them. The dog's tiny forefeet were buried in the maid's hair; his hind legs, resting on the base of her breasts, pushed until they left red indentations in her fat flesh.
I saw her lips-and the dog's cock-very clearly. Suddenly, her lips began a slight movement. The dog's cock entered a fraction of an inch. His whine now held a triumphant note. Soon his cock would be in her warm, saliva-filled mouth!
But such was not the case. The lips refused to let the red prick enter! They began, instead, playing with the tiny cock! The lips tickled the red point, moved the small cock to the right, then to the left, the red tongue of the maid delicately meeting the red tip of the dog's cock!
She teased little Pierre shamelessly. He whined d his hind quarters pushed down as he sought entrance into her mouth! He was a dog gone berserk! His front feet dug into her hair for leverage, trimmed nails slightly extended. His hind quarters pitched and fell to the maid's deep breathing!
I could only guess, of course, about the sexual passion that lanced through the wiry little canine. When he'd tasted of the maid's wide and dark anus he, naturally, had had no ejaculation, although I had noticed his pecker dripping a white material that could have been semen! Now, a sexual ejaculation so close at hand, her lips were sealed against his pecker's entrance!
I do not know how long the gross lips tossed the little cock back and forth, although I knew it was a time of some long duration. Pierre's whines became more pleading; in fact, he opened his mouth as though to bite, but apparently thought better of it. His jaws clicked closed on empty air!
The maid was a master at building suspense, both for the dog and for me. I found myself praying she'd open her mouth and let the dog have his ejaculation. I also wondered what she'd do with his semen. Would she spit it out? Or would she swallow it?
I remembered a half-witted peon youth-a neighbor-who loved going down on his knees before males. He always swallowed the semen ejected into his mouth, I had heard. "I love its taste," he had babbled in his ignorance.
My attention riveted itself on the maid's lips and the dog's prick. I noticed, then, that the mouth was surely but slowly opening, for I now saw less of the dog's prick. I wondered if the maid would suddenly open her mouth and take the dog's cock to the knob. I felt sick inside at such obscenity, but still a great attention held me, morbid and burning!
At no time did the maid's mouth become wide open. Gradually the pursed lips made a small round O, the dog's prick sinking slowly into this until, at last, the lips tightened, holding the dog's prick completely within the oral cavity, the lips coming closed tightly behind the tiny red knob. Pierre was happy now. He had entirely submerged his cock into the woman's hot mouth!
The mouth now put great constriction on the prick! Although Pierre's hips went in and out in wild abandon, his cock dragged hard against the lips. Within a moment, a sexual spasm shook the peke. His whine became a groan. His forefeet dug terribly deep into the hair. His hind legs, braced solidly against the base of each teat, were pushed deep, then even deeper, in the maid's flesh!
His entire body shivered. His mouth opened, no sound came; his mouth stayed open, throat working. The maid's lips worked rapidly now, skinning up and down the small red prick, stopping to pull down hard on the knob. Pierre's little body ejected all serum he apparently had into the mouth. He hung like that for a long, long moment, and I imagined his tiny testicles pouring out his doghood, warm and white and sticky!
For one long moment, he kept his prick in the mouth, then started to withdraw it. I saw the maid's throat swallow. At least, that question of mine was answered. She took the dog's semen into her stomach!
Her arms went around the dog, holding him close to her face. Her lips opened and released his cock. Her words came muffled. "He's had one big ejaculation, Lady Alicia. He now wants to retire. But watch me bring him back to another... and in very short time!"
Pierre's cock was now limp, knob gone. She pushed down on his hips, driving his limber prick again into her mouth. She held him securely; plainly, the little animal was through; he wanted to escape. But her arms held him and I watched her heavy lips begin to work again!
Those lips loved the pecker, pulled on it this way, then that, and for a while Pierre just lay there, a victim of circumstances-but within a short time I heard his whine again begin, and I noticed that slight rigidity had been worked into his prick!
"He's coming around again!" The maid spoke, of course, around Pierre's cock; therefore her words were indistinct and muffled!
Pierre's hips now began feeble motions that, within a short time, had progressed into driving, hard lunges. Again his knob had swollen. Again the lips skinned the red pecker back and forth, once more fastening briefly behind the knob, contracting to pull the cock even deeper-yes, deeper and deeper-into the feminine mouth!
Pierre was again a berserk canine. Again, his forefeet dug in the woman's disordered hair; again, his tiny hind legs braced on huge teats. I could hear the smacking of lips against canine prick. White foam dropped from the corners of the female's mouth. The pace grew more rapid. I held my breath. The up and down motions of the dog could become no more rapid! His moment, surely, had to be close at hand.
Pierre's tongue lolled from his mouth. It dripped slobber into the female's hair. Faster, faster, faster... and even yet more faster! Then, with a whining groan, the dog's gonads expelled their juice. His hips slammed down, the mouth took him to the knob; the mouth twisted, tongue loving. And again little Pierre, shivering and plunging, was relieved of his doghood!
Finally, he lay quietly. Gently, the maid lifted him from her, lips skinning his cock thoroughly as his little body rose. She lay him on the floor beside her thick thigh. He didn't move, but lay on his belly, head on his forepaws. He looked very tired.
The maid sat up. I noticed she still held the dog's semen in her mouth. Would she, this time, spit it out? She spoke around the semen. "If he wasn't a young dog he'd not have been able to go off the second time. I once had a six-year-old peke fuck my mouth. He couldn't make the grade the second time, although he tried. Pekes have a lot of courage."
I nodded. My curiosity grew. Her mouth was still full of Pierre's semen. I saw her purse her lips. I thought, She'll spit it out this time. I was wrong. Her thick throat worked.
She swallowed it!
CHAPTER FOUR
That evening the maid came to my door telling me my dancing and singing teachers had arrived from Madrid. "They tell me that Count Ernesto reached Madrid safely with the Duchess, and the Count immediately dispatched them here, Lady Alicia."
When my maid had knocked, I had been lying on my back on me bed, wearing only a silk kimono. I'll admit shamelessly: I'd been playing with myself! My forefinger had moved, hesitated, loved, danced along the top of my cunt. Such was my sexual heat I had gone off in just a short time! I had just finished my self-induced ejaculation when the maid had knocked!
My dancing teacher! My singing teacher! Ah, Count Ernesto, beloved faithful Count! I pulled my robe tight about my small waist and tied the wide belt. I seated myself in a large chair in my living room and bade my maid to bring in my teachers.
"Males or females?" I asked.
"Males." She giggled slightly. I frowned: why the giggle? I soon found out. For the two males entered. They were brothers-short, blocky, both looking alike; in fact, I later found they were twins! And both, it could be plainly seen, were homosexuals!
No wonder the giggle!
They were fair-skinned blondes. I judged them to be about twenty-three; later, I found them twenty-five. No black, Moorish blood had ever been mingled with their blood to give them such fairness.
Both wore long black coats, black trousers, and black high-laced shoes. And both, to my surprise, wore white jabots-women's jabots!
I had, of course, seen a few homosexuals in the village; I had noticed their feminine gestures and female actions. These two bowed at the same precise moment, bending full from the waist.
"I am Lady Alicia."
"I am Pablo Juan Rios Martinez y Gallicia," one said. "I am to be your music instructor."
"I am Pedro Jesus Rios Martinez y Gallicia," the other said. "I shall be your instructor in the dance."
I knew I'd never be able to tell which was Pablo and which was Pedro. They were alike as two peas in a pod are supposed to be, but many times are not!
"Be seated, please."
Their hands fluttered, their lips pursed; they seated themselves, side by side on the couch, knees close together, both sitting in the same posture, slightly leaning forward, four blue eyes on me.
One carried me a sealed note from my Count. (I believe Pedro had the note!) I tore it open. My Count would be detained for some days-he didn't know just how many-in Madrid! These two young men were famous in teaching singing and dancing. "Your virginity shall be perfectly safe as far as those two are concerned," Count Ernesto wrote, "for these two are homosexuals, who will not touch a woman in sex, I know on good authority! I shall be blunt, my dear. You are now surrounded by many men in my household. If your maidenhead is not intact when I initiate you into the ways of sex, I shall, to put it pointedly, kick you out on your pretty ass! Ha, ha, ha!"
Yes, I thought sourly: ha, ha, ha!
Next morning's post brought further news from my Count. He sent me a contract drawn up in fine legal language by his attorneys in Madrid. The essence of the paper was that he would derive twenty per cent of the gross of the money I would make as a dancing girl and singer. If this were not agreeable with me, I could tell him so by return post and then return to my jacal and my instructors would return to Madrid. Yes, indeed, the Count was, as he said, a blunt man-also, a scheming man who looked far ahead!
My heart thrilled. My Count had much faith in me! I could lose nothing by signing the contract- the maid as my witness. I had nothing to lose because I owned nothing!
And the Count-damn his black soul-could gain much if I turned out to possess the genius he suspected I owned. He had hardly anything at stake-merely my board and room and clothing and the cost of the two homosexual teachers! And, in the end, he would taste of my virginal body, his prick rammed deep into my throbbing cunt. Then and there, I realized that the man wins-always wins! The woman always gives; the man always takes! Even to this day, I am paying the Count's estate twenty per cent of my gross earnings as per that contract and the sum runs into many thousands of pesetas annually!
For the first time I realized how hard and long I'd have to work to become anywise proficient as a dancer and singer! Up to now this had been a mere glowing dream in my girlish mind, a sort of Cinderella thing that was bound to be and someday, miraculously, would come about, with thousands thrilling to my dancing and singing! Now I found out how foolish that maidenly dream had actually been!
I shall not describe how thoroughly and hard the homosexual twin brothers worked me. Again and again-and yet again-I trilled over the musical scales. My feet discovered their dancing was amateurish; I toiled and toiled until my body dripped sweat, my flesh trembled with fatigue.
I shall say this in favor of my homosexual instructors, though. Neither ever raised his voice in anger against me, as have so many dancing masters since that date! Each was very considerate. Each quickly gauged the limits of my endurance; when they suspected me to be a bit tired, sessions were immediately halted.
The dancing lessons made my body tough and hard. I used muscles I'd not known I'd possessed when I'd bent and hacked with dull hoe in corn and cane. For three days, following the start of my dancing lessons, I was so stiff and sore I had to fairly roll into bed and then roll out, just as sore-muscled as when I'd rolled in!
The stiffness passed. My body glowed with health and strength. My cunt cried for a man's cock, for when the female body is in tiptop physical condition, the sexual desires are much, much stronger! Why did not my Count return and put an end to my sexual suffering?
Shameless wench that I was even then, I tried to induce one-or both-of the homosexual brothers to fuck me! I made these sexual advances for two purposes: first, my body demanded a man on my breasts and, second, the devil inside me made me want to seduce a man who openly said he'd found no pleasure in fucking women and now found sexual bliss only in his own sex!
The fourth day I came to my dancing lesson wearing only a thin bra and very narrow panties under my silk robe. Usually I dressed in a short gown, but not today. When I stripped from my gown, I expected the brothers to stare at my luscious curves with sexual hunger flaring in their blue eyes-but such was not the case!
The one at the piano merely glanced bored at me, then let his eyes return to his long cheroot. My dancing instructor merely gave me a glance that held not an iota of sexual longing!
"You would dance more freely," he said, "if you quitted yourself of your panties, Lady Alicia, for dancing requires that the human crotch moves freely and should not be obstructed by even a thing as sheer and tight as your panties."
I sat down, pulled my panties down; I wriggled my legs, braced on my arms, my hips working, my black patch of pubic hair glistening. I glanced at the brother at the piano. He tapped his open hand over his mouth in boredom. My eyes went to the other brother. He stared at my cunt without a bit of masculine interest showing in his pale-blue eyes!
Anger roiled me deep inside. Had I suddenly lost my sex-appeal? The dancing instructor looked idly at my teats. "It is best you leave your bra on, Lady Alicia. When one's breasts joggle, they are apt to throw a dancer's timing off slightly."
The brother at the piano now watched me, hands poised over the keys. "Perhaps it is our duty to inform this lovely young senorita of a few facts of life?" he asked his brother.
The dancing instructor sighed. "Yes, I would judge so, Pablo. Shall I explain, or do you wish the task?"
"You are more apt at such than I," Pablo murmured.
Pedro spoke to me. "My brother and I are homosexuals, Lady Alicia. We have been man and wife for over seven years now. Before finding our love in the body and spirit of the other brother we, of course, had sexual intercourse with the female side of humanity."
He spoke dryly, slowly, without a bit of fervor. He might have been reciting a lesson in grammar school!
"I do not wish to hurt your tender feelings, Lady Alicia, but you came dressed in such skimpy manner for just one reason, we feel sure. Let us not mention that reason, please.
"Just let us mention that your efforts, although undoubtedly based on kindness, are of entirely no avail. My brother and I are securely wed to the other. Many females have tried to come between us sexually. We pay them no attention, for we are content in our family life and want no other. I pray I am not insulting you.
"Your body is indeed one of the most gorgeous either of us has ever seen. Your breasts are a marvel of molded jade, nipples pure and lovely. Your hips are what any man-a normal man, let us say?-would desire. But to us-and I can speak safely for my brother-they are just breasts and hips, and nothing more. Are you content with my explanation?"
I could only nod.
"Then let us continue with our work, Lady Alicia."
I shall tell the truth, although it is-even at this latter date-a blow to my feminine pride. I tried every possible way to make one-or both-of the brothers seduce me.
Every time possible, I deliberately rubbed my hip against one of theirs. When I leaned over one, I brazenly almost buried a nipple in his mouth. I've seen them turn their heads to escape my nipple! I did every trick I knew, but never once did one of them pay me a bit of attention in the sexual sense!
I have, since that time, seduced a few male homosexuals. (Oh, what terrible tragedies they turned out to be as lovers!) Usually the male homosexual, I have discovered, will at least occasionally try sex at a female's breasts. But Pablo and Pedro had absolutely no sexual interest in a female-at least, not in me and my young and prick-hungry body! Each morning I dutifully drank the dark exotic liquid that the maid said would insure me that no child would grow in my womb after sexual intercourse-but revolt stormed me, even as I took the liquid, for where was my Count, the man destined to put the first male seed in my burning vagina?
He persisted in staying in Madrid. Notes said he had much business to attend to! Yes, I scoffed inwardly, but what type of business? Even at this moment his heavy-set body might be pumping semen into the rising buttocks of some Madrid belle, naked and with huge hard teats! Were it not for the fact that my financial future depended on him, I'd have fucked one of my homosexual teachers, bodily taking him to the floor... if possible! Such was my sexual heat!
Next day after my teachers' arrivals, I saw the little Pekingese, Pierre, fuck the fat maid in the cunt, and I shall relate what this scene did to me, for it roused sexual longings so burning that, to be truthful, I ejaculated my love juice into my panties!
Prior to this sexual mating between canine and human female, little Pierre had again made contact with the maid's throbbing and contracting anus, this time doing it properly-working in the circle, tongue laving, until, at last, his tongue now a red pencil, he shot it into the maid's asshole, with her shaking and trembling, so great was her passion, as his tongue, moving here and there, contracted the correct nerves, driving her to gasping I female ejaculation!
This finished, Pierre retreated to his couch, head again on his forelegs as his small, intelligent eyes appraised his lady love, who sat in a chair, legs crossed, panting slightly.
"Why did you not let Pierre enter your cunt instead of your anus?" I asked.
Her logic was simple. When Pierre had laved her asshole, he, of course, had not had a canine sexual ejaculation. "You will remember, Lady Alicia, that his prick hung out to the knob, but no semen shot from it. He was very hot, and he is still hot. With that preliminary, his prick will become hard immediately, and he will be that much more active when he pumps into my vagina!"
She glanced at the dog. "He's not breathing hard now. I'd best catch him before he cools off." She went on her back on the floor. Instantly Pierre's small ears rose. He cocked his head, tongue slightly out, awaiting instructions, his little body rigid with sexual desires!
"Come, Pierre!"
He leaped off the couch. He stood, forelegs braced, sharp eyes glowing. "This time," the maid said slowly, "it is my cunt. Do you understand, Pierre? Not mouth, teats, or ass-this time, my cunt!"
The little dog barked once, small white incisors glistening. The maid looked at me with pride. "He understands. But now I have to let him know he must fuck me with his prick, not his tongue." She turned her attention to the dog. "With the prick, Pierre, with the prick. Now go to it, my love!"
She put her heavy thighs upward, huge knees bent. She spread her hips so she could see the little dog, who approached her, nose twitching, from behind her huge ass that lay spread on the floor, her cunt and anus staring directly at me.
"You'd better move to the side, Lady Alicia," she told me, never taking her eyes from the advancing Pierre. "From where you sit, you'll only see Pierre's back. From the side you can clearly see his cock enter me."
Silently, I moved over and took Pierre's place on the couch, the couch still warm from the imprint of his hot, sexual-laden little carcass! I turned my attention on the Pekingese, who seemed rather confused.
He stood a foot behind his mistress's enormous behind, staring at her cunt and anus as if undecided which he should use. His mistress scowled deeply and muttered, "He still doesn't understand clearly! Jesus, he is stupid sometimes!" She spoke sharply to her canine lover. "My cunt, Pierre, my cunt!"
Pierre waggled his tail. He began licking a circle around her asshole and puche. She shivered with joy and waited, eyes closed. The dog still did not understand. His tongue moved, broad and flat; it darted up her anus, then came back, narrowing down on her long huge cunt which gaped open, the red lining showing despite the thick rug of pubic hair.
Then, his tongue darted out;-a round pencil this time-to penetrate her cunt, and the woman squealed in anger. "No, no, no-stupid canine! Your prick, Pierre-not your tongue-your prick in my cunt!"
Still the dog didn't comprehend; his tongue lanced out, started to pierce her cunt. She reached down and grabbed him and lifted him; he growled angrily. By sheer force she put his little body over her cunt!
"Now, fuck, you dumb bastard!"
The big woman lay back, her lips white with anger. Little Pierre barked that he now understood. His small gopher-like eyes glistened as he pumped his hind-end ahead, his cock a short, red thing.
The maid was very thick up and down. Although Pierre stood manfully on his hind legs, he could just get the tip of his cock into her red font. He jumped upward, his prick entered halfway, but, as he came down, his cock came entirely out; nonetheless, he tried again, jumping like a canine jumping jack, cock going in and coming out.
"Damn it," the maid said, "I forgot the little sonofabitch's pillow! It's on the couch beside you, Lacy Alicia!"
The pillow was made of leather and was solid. I lifted Pierre's hind legs-he growled at me but didn't snap-and put both of his hind feet solidly on the leather. He was now high enough to shoot his cock into his mistress to the knob. He went immediately to work. I again sat down and watched, my heart pounding, my vagina burning with fire! How I longed to have Pierre's cock-even though it was that of a dog!-pounding against my belly!
The maid instantly had an orgasm. I saw froth on her cunt hairs. I caught the sweet smell of female secretions. Bravely, little Pierre kept pumping, his hind legs braced on the pillow, his forelegs buried in the thick mat of black pubic hair.
The maid took the tiny cock to the knob. Pierre's cock went in, hesitated, came out, then pierced again, covered by the maid's white semen. I studied his prick carefully. The thought came to me that a woman could hold Pierre's little body and thereby not let him enter her far enough to shatter her maidenhead. She'd have to watch herself during the periods her ovaries spoke, though-she might get so heated she'd unconsciously hold him too close and his peter might pierce the maidenhead! I lusted to have sex with him!
Once little Pierre's hind legs slipped, for the leather pillow was rather slick from much use. He sprawled backwards, his prick leaving the huge cunt; he landed on his behind, growled fiercely at nothing at all, then darted ahead again, prick out and ready-within a moment, his cock was again buried to the knob in the maid's throbbing puche!
I felt something warm and liquid trickle down the insides of my thighs! I had been so hot, I had automatically gone off! I remembered the Duchess's cunt meeting mine, hp to hp. I remembered the lovely happiness that had surged through me then, and I had to restrain myself; I wanted to run forward, lift up the laboring Pekingese, throw him aside, and launch myself, cunt to cunt, on the maid's huge bottom.
I looked down at the floor. Watching the dog fuck his mistress had made too much sex flare in me, a burning high fire. Suddenly, my maid began making a sharp, keening sound.
"I'm commg... conung... coming again- Oh, god, there I go- Poor Pierre, I'm flooding you, my love-Pierre, darling, are you ready? I want to meet you when you go-bathe your prick with my juices- Oh, my god, there I go again!"
Her huge hips vibrated, rose, pulled down hard on Pierre's lunging cock. Suddenly white juices ran wildly down her fat inner thighs. I looked at Pierre. His forefeet dug deep into her hair; his head lay even on her belly; his hips rose and fell and he sang a low canine song in his throat.
His continuous happy growling blended with the song of the maid. Together, the two tunes made a weird cacophony. My throat caught. I stared, wide-eyed. Both bodies lunged hard forward, met deeply, paused, then retreated to repeat the old sex pattern. Bravely, little Pierre clung to the bounding, rising and falling cunt.
Fine sweat covered the maid. One globule of sweat stood on her left nipple, now hard as Andalusian mountain granite. The drop glistened and rose and fell with her heaving and deep breathing.
I realized she waited for Pierre's small prick to shoot semen into her gaping cunt, I knew that the moment could not be far away. It came within a few more seconds. She screamed, "He's coming... he's coming... Oh, my god, he's giving me a load... what a load... How warm, how magnificent!
"Here comes my gob, Pierre! Feel it hit your prick-wash back to your little balls- Oh, my love, my Pierre-" She suddenly sat up. She held the dog securely to her cunt. She looked at me with wild eyes. "He's still coming, the little devil. He's still pouring semen into my vagina! Now he's slowing down a bit -no, here comes a great big splurge-that should be the last-" She waited, still clutching the dog tight to her huge belly. By now the canine's sexual movements had abated. He lay limp and puffing against her roll of belly flesh. Carefully, she lifted him; he offered no resistance.
I saw his prick leave her cunt. His prick had shortened, and was no more than a red-colored piece of limp and well-cooked spaghetti. Her pubic hairs, around her open fount, were very wet now, plastered to her skin. She held the dog at arm's length. His cock was just retreating into its foreskin. She pulled him to her and gave his prick a long suck before it disappeared. She then kissed the tiny balls, one at a time, and handed him to me. I put him on the couch. He was completely spent; within a minute, he slept.
His mistress lay on her back on the floor. Her belly bounced with deep breathing. "That," she said, "was a fucking, Lady Alicia. I'll tell you something! Someday let's you and I fuck, as women fuck. I'll never tell Count Ernesto. And I'll watch my tongue so I'll not break your maidenhead. I promise that, darling!"
Temptation screamed that I launch myself on her naked body, take her head between my knees and ram my cunt down on her mouth, my own head sinking between her thighs, my tongue penetrating the heavenly nest just vacated by Pierre's cock. To remove temptation, I stood up. "I must be getting to my dancing lesson," I said throatily.
She sat up. "Is it a deal?"
I paused at the door. "I'll think it over." Again, I glanced at her ass; again I almost weakened. By sheer power I jerked open the door.
BOOK THREE It has ever been my experience that folks who have no vices have very few virtues.
-Abraham Lincoln
CHAPTER ONE
Before my sexual encounter with the Duchess, my body had burned and lusted for sexual expression. I had many times then thought the desire too much to bear and had almost lain down before men in the field. I had expected my sexual release accomplished by Lesbianism with the beautiful Duchess would allay my sexual desires for some time -possibly a week. I was completely in error.
After the session with the Duchess, my sexual demands became stronger than prior to our Lesbianism. I had tasted of the golden fruit; the taste had tickled my palate and been sweet on my tongue. I wanted more... and more... and more. I was like an addict, but I wanted not morphine and the drugs: I wanted sex, and more and more sex!
I was strongly tempted to go into Lesbian position with my maid, even though her body was fat and anything but attractive-especially when naked! The only thing that kept me from making such sexual connection was that my Count Ernesto might hear about it and, in anger, throw me from my easy life in his palace!
For I did not trust the maid. She was a sneaky animal, smirking and solicitous, fawning at the right time, scowling at the other proper moment. She might be building a trap for me! And, if I put my body against hers, cunt to cunt, mouth to cunt, she might close the trap on me by telling my Count of our sexual encounter! Her motivation would be simple. She had admitted that she and Count Ernesto sometimes fucked. She complained that these fucking sessions were too few and too far apart; therefore, she had to rely on little Pierre for constant sex. She knew that the Count, upon his return, would seduce me and break my maidenhead. I was, then, competition against her. I had a sneaking hunch she'd love to see me thrown from the Count's castle because I'd been unfaithful to him. Therefore I refused to have Lesbian connections with her.
But my burning body cried for the entrance of Pierre's round tongue and rounded, red prick! Pierre could fuck and never talk, that was for certain! Although he was a mere canine, he would be better than nothing as a fucking companion!
I decided to waylay the little Pekingese and sneak him into my room-or some other-and fuck him. Within a short time I discovered this would be impossible: his mistress never, never let Pierre out of her sight! Nights, she slept behind locked and barred doors, with all windows closed and bolted. Daytimes, she kept the little animal locked in her closet, except for the few times he accompanied her in her work around the castle!
I then planned that I could rent the dog from her for a night session. Suddenly my stubborn Spanish pride arose. I could not see myself offering the fat whore money for the use of her dog! Dogs were made to herd sheep and work livestock, and not to fuck hot-blooded young Andalusian women! My mother had no scruples, but how her hands would fly up in horror if she learned her daughter cohabited with a dog!
The irony of the situation sometimes drove me to bitter laughter. Here the palace and plantation were over-run by strong-backed young men who lusted to get their rigid pricks in my throbbing cunt! But because of my fear of Count Ernesto, I could not he down before them, raise my legs and feel them lower their tough muscles down on my burning teats, feel their hard cocks shoot into my vagina, feel their pricks ram and push inside.
Why didn't my Count return? The reason was simple to me: he had found some new ass... or asses. When he was tired of these women-or woman-he would return to me! He was making a fool of me! All the castle's occupants knew he'd called me from the field to make me his concubine and then, without warning, he'd left, leaving me in the ridiculous position of an unfucked bride!
I lusted to cry out to these suspicious yokels that my Count had indeed fucked me before his departure! My nerves were so raw, my body so demanding a prick, that such a he would have bothered my conscience not an iota! But I did not do this, either; I feared the count's reactions were he to hear of my he upon his return. Count Ernesto had just one scale by which he measured humanity and an individual: Did the individual lie, or was he honest? And if the individual were a liar, he was cut immediately from the list of my count's acquaintances!
My only hope of reaching sexual release was to somehow get hold of gallant little Pierre, but I soon learned, as related, that this was an impossibility. Other dogs, though, roamed the palace grounds. I watched them one day frolicking on the back lawn. There were shepherds, the brown German dogs, poodles and mongrels. Perhaps one of them had been trained as a lap dog?
I caught myself eyeing the canines in speculative conjecture, trying to judge which one or ones-if any-had been trained to seduce a woman. The bitter irony of the situation suddenly stung me like acid gall. I was so hard up for a man's prick I was looking at dogs and seeking one as a potential bed and sexual partner! My god, I thought, how low can a human female get?
I settled on a small black French poodle. I picked him for two reasons: he seemed congenial, and would come running to me, barking and dancing; and I learned he belonged to a middle-aged lady friend of the Count who was now abroad in America, and who had entrusted her dog to his lordship's care and board, while she was journeying!
A fat, heavy-set, middle-aged female? Yes, and a widow, too, I learned! Ah, maybe she had an educated poodle, n'est-ce pas? One trained to the cunt, the teats, and the asshole? My heart sang as he trotted into my room, fawning and happy!
He immediately leaped on an over-stuffed chair, where he lay, his head on his forelegs, and watched me. Slowly, carefully, I disrobed before him. Now I realize I must have looked very stupid, strip-teasing a dog! His brown eyes watched me, but showed no signs of interest; at last, I stood before him, nude-curvaceous, lovely! His eyes showed no interest at all!
I purred, "Nice doggie!"
His tail wagged. He didn't raise his head. I walked over to him and passed my naked puche in front of his nostrils. His nostrils didn't even quiver! I stopped, got his head, pushed his nose against my throbbing cunt!
He smelled here, there-but his tongue remained welded into his red mouth. Angrily, I pulled my cunt back. Still holding his head, I got my ass against his nose, and ran his nostrils up my crack. He couldn't help smelling my anus! I released his head. I spread my buttocks wide. Unexpectedly, I rammed back my ass, and his nose went into my crack!
I felt his damp nose. I expected him to at least lick my asshole. But he didn't lick, nor did he smell; he merely sat up and looked at me. He looked very bored! Plainly, he wanted me to remove my buttocks from his vicinity!
Anger struck me. I guessed him to be about two years old and in prime, masculine dog health. Surely he could have smelled my cunt's feminine odor, and my asshole, too, had to have some odor!
I had watched him in play with the other dogs on the lawns. He had then been busy sniffing pricks, cunts and assholes. Yet he had not the least interest for such things on a female human.
He'd lain again, head on forepaws. I got on my knees before him. I took his head and laid it on my right breast. I thought for sure he'd at least lick my expanding nipple. He again sat up, again looking very bored. I was so angry I almost struck him. Foolish as the statement may now seem, I then felt like the proverbial scorned female!
I straightened. I stamped my bare foot. He cowered into his chair. I patted his head. He again licked my hand, his tongue broad and damp. I got to my knees again. I used my left teat this time. I grabbed it in both hands and shoved it against his nose, which was very cold.
Hurriedly, he pulled his head back; again, he sat up. His tail wagged slowly as though he were confused.
"You cold-blooded sonofabitch!" I stormed. "You haven't even got sense enough to fuck, you bastard!"
He jumped from the chair and went to the door. I let him out, kicking him under the tail when he scampered out. He ran down the hall and out the open door. I pulled on a robe and went to the window. The other dogs played out on the grass. Soon the dog I'd tried to seduce came on the run. He romped, played, danced, ran in a circle; he mounted a male dog and started to pump vigorously. I saw his red peter punching against the other dog's asshole.
This dog was a male, and didn't want such treatment, so he twisted, and my dog was pushed off him, his cock out and very red. He had the sexual urge, all right; he wanted to jack off against a male dog but wouldn't even lick my cunt! I sat down and remembered the maid saying she'd put honey on her asshole and cunt to induce interest in Pierre when she broke him into lap dog duties. I'd try the same.
Next day I got the dog again into my quarters. Again I disrobed, breasts flowing, my pubic hair dark and damp. I put honey over my cunt. I ran my cunt against him again-even so close that I got honey on his nose. He licked his nose and leaped off the chair and went to the door plainly asking to be let out.
My god, he didn't even like honey!
I curbed the desire to choke him. I carried him into the kitchen. I had just finished my dinner. He sniffed at this, then that; finally, his jaws fastened on the T-bone left there. I carried him back to the bed, T-bone in hand. I laid him between my legs and put the T-bone on my cunt. He smelled a little, and then took the bone in his jaws and started to chew it, using my belly for his paws. I'd had enough! He hadn't licked my cunt, even once! I carried him and the bone to the window and unceremoniously threw both out into the yard.
The other dogs saw his bone. They came running. My dog ran wildly for the brush, the bone between his jaws. They all disappeared in the forest. Soon I heard a grand fight going on!
Angrily, I bathed. His toenails had scratched my belly in two places. They honey hung to my cunt's hair; it was hard to wash off. I lounged in the big tub in the hot water, playing with my cunt. I spread my cunt open, letting the warm water tickle its inner lips; I would close it, forcing the water out. Sexual passion was strong in my body. My nipples stood out sharp and high. Finally my finger found the right spot. Feminine fluids were released in gushing flood; my body shook to passion.
That damned Count! Why didn't he return?
Had Pierre been with me, I'd have locked him to my belly, his red peter piercing my portal! Had the obese maid been present, I would have gladly gone into Lesbian position with her!
Next morning my maid casually asked if I'd like to see a woman have intercourse with a stallion! I stared at her in amazement, and she explained.
One of the servant girls had made a bet with a stable-hand that she could take the cock of the smallest Shetland stallion on the estate! My maid described the girl, and I remembered her.
She was a dark-haired girl of about seventeen. She was very small but had a beautifully built little body with big teats and good hips. The Count had also taken her in from the fields. He had fucked her a few weeks in steady fashion, and then had gone to another new woman, my maid related.
"The Count will do the same to you," the maid said. "He will be on your body steady for about ten days or two weeks, and then he will tire of you."
"What does he then do with his women?" I asked.
"If there is another man handy, he will hand over the woman to him. But if there is no other man, she works in the household and he only occasionally fucks her, as he does this girl and me-and all the women in his household."
My heart chilled. I couldn't see much future for me, for to whom would he hand me?
"Until the Count learned about the magic drink, he had an awful time with the babies we women gave him. But since we all have taken the drink not a one of us has become with child-a great relief to the Count."
"What did he used to do with the children?"
"Some, of course, went with their mothers. Oh, the Count is a good man, Lady Alicia. He sees that none of his offspring goes hungry. Some he turned over to the Sisters in the orphanage. That orphanage is filled with his children, they tell me-but he pays the Sisters well. But we are getting away from the subject. Do you want to go with me and see the stallion fuck the woman?"
That afternoon, the heavy maid and I crouched in the saddle-shed adjoining the stable. The place smelled of leather and horse-sweat. We squatted and peered through a wide crack in the wall.
Only men were admitted as spectators. I don't know why only men were invited to witness the fucking. They stood along the opposite wall. The stable-hands had built a wooden platform just wide enough for the girl, with a board across its head where the stallion could brace his front feet.
Two stable-hands inspected the ramp. They were squat, wide-shouldered, and wore filthy old clothes. One dug into his beard. He came out with a fat louse. He killed it between yellow teeth.
I expected him to spit it out. He didn't; he swallowed it.
The spectators passed bottles back and forth and hooted, demanding that Millie appear. The stallion was led in. He was a small Shetland, bay and gray. He already had a hard-on. His cock flew up and hit his belly like a drum. He snorted, wild eyed!
"Here she comes!"
Millie came into the stinking room. Hooting rose in volume. Millie wore a servant's uniform. She looked at the stallion's cock, judging it from all angles. She nodded. Evidently she figured her cunt was big enough!
Men screamed that she divest herself of clothes. Millie gave them only scornful looks. She dug a wad of money from the pocket of her dress. The overseer took it and counted it. The stable-hands then gave the overseer their money. He counted it, nodded, and put both sums in his pocket. Bets had been posted.
The overseer gave instructions. Millie would undress and he flat on her back; the stallion would be led up, and he would mount her! According to the agreement, Millie would take ten inches of the stallion's cock!
My heart jumped. Ten inches! I studied Millie's hips. She was, after all, a small girl! I still had to learn that, for some reason, small women have bigger cunts than big women. Many men who have lain with me have told me the same!
The stable-hands would measure ten inches of the stud's cock. At this point they would tie a string around the long black prick. That area of the stud's pecker would be greased well with butter. Millie's cunt would also be well lubricated with butter!
But first, Millie had to be naked!
"Ten inches!" I whispered. "Whew!"
"I've taken slightly more than twelve inches," my maid said proudly. "One stable-hand here has that much when he's got a good hard-on. I've taken him to his balls. Some of the other women can't take him, though."
The men were demanding that Millie disrobe. She wore no shoes or hose. She merely pulled her house dress over her head. She wore no panties or brassiere; her tanned body glistened. I noticed she had a good wide ass. Her teats were big but not huge; they had proud, dark nipples. The men screamed. One started forward, evidently intending to rape her; three others grabbed and held him. Millie stuck out her tongue at him.
I turned my attention to the stallion. A man was jacking him off. The man had a handful of butter. He ran the stallion's cock through his hands, spreading the grease. The stallion neighed, pawed. His pecker was rigid and had a big knob. I knew that the most trouble Millie would encounter would be at first when her cunt had to open wide enough to absorb that knob!
My attention went back to Millie, who now lay on her back on the ramp, her legs straight up in the air. The overseer was greasing Millie's cunt. I saw her opening clearly. I gasped in surprise. She was slit from her anus halfway to her belly button! Her gaping font lay open as the overseer greased her lips, peeling back her cunt as he did so!
"My god," my companion gasped. "She's got a bigger cunt than I have, and I weigh twice as much as she does!"
Her voice held envy. Fascinated, I watched the man's rough hands spread the cunt's lips back as he spread the butter. He now worked at the top of her cunt. I saw his forefinger sneak in, out; he grinned. Millie went off, body stiffening; she batted his hand aside. "You sure know where to touch!" she said, "but save it for the stud!"
Passion thickened the man's voice. "You need higher lubrication," he said. "And one way to get it there is by my cock!"
"You just want a free piece of ass!" Millie laughingly accused.
"No, I speak truth, Millie. We could deposit a big piece of butter in your vagina. Then my prick could spread it around. Also, your natural juices, mingled with mine, would create additional lubrication!"
"He's right," my companion whispered.
I watched Millie's face. Her hand went out and took the front of the overseer's trousers. I saw delight flare into her eyes. "You've sure got a big hard-on, Juan." Her hips vibrated as though already she were taking his saber. "All right, but just a quickie, my love."
"The agreement never mentioned her being fucked first," a stable-hand growled. "She's supposed to take the stud, not you!"
"The rules say she has the right to be lubricated well," the overseer stated.
The onlookers hollered that Millie should first fuck the overseer. Millie had already loosened the man's broad leather belt, and had unbuttoned his fly. His cock shot out-well knobbed, big and redheaded. Millie sat up, the cock in front of her. Her tongue went out. Carefully, holding the cock, her tongue swept over its knob; for one moment, she had about two inches of it deep in her mouth, her lips working with hard precision, her hands around the man's buttocks, one forefinger playing with his hairy anus.
"She's got a reputation as a sucker," my maid whispered. "Men say she does the best suck job on the estate. I can see why she's better sucking than fucking. No man living has a tool just half big enough to fill her hole!"
The small stallion suddenly snorted, ears pricked toward Millie. Evidently he'd just got a strong whiff of her cunt smell. His prick snapped up, slapping his belly; I looked at the man at the stud's head. The man scowled. He didn't like the proceedings. Evidently he didn't want Millie mounted first by a man, but thought the stallion should be first!
The overseer forcibly tore his cock free from Millie's grip. He pulled his prick out of her mouth. Millie slapped him across the jowls. He grabbed her and threw her on her back. She bit at his cock as she went down but, luckily, her clipping white teeth missed!
My thighs ached from crouching. But I forgot their pain as I watched this maid and man wrestle! The man's cock bobbed, swung; forcibly, he held Millie down on her back. I lusted to be in Millie's place. Soon she'd feel a huge prick rip into her, knead savagely within her vagina! Soon hard hips would beat angrily against her ass, the huge cock sliding in to the testicles, rearing out to its knob and then plunging in again!
My maid and I had a very clear view of the proceedings. Two men came and held Millie's arms. She lay with her legs wide, and her crack open. The overseer held his cock in his hand, aiming it. The stallion watched, neighing occasionally, forehoof pawing. I was not interested in the horse. My interest centered on the overseer's magnificent pecker!
I compared the cock of this man with the prick of my Count. My Count had him beat both on circumference and on length! This man was adequately outfitted, but the Count's prick dimensions were the larger. The Count also had bigger balls, I realized. Small wonder that my Count had such a reputation as a competent cocksman!
I remembered the Count's prick entering the lovely portal of the Duchess. The Duchess had had a small cunt, in comparison to Millie's red opening. The Count's cock had had a hard time entering; in fact, the Duchess had reached down, spread her cunt's edges apart. After the Count's prick had entered, the Duchess' lips had moved back with his prick when the prick had come out, had gone down when the Count had made his deep-downward hinge. The Duchess, I realized, had a very small and tight sexual orifice!
I became aware of a hot female thigh pressing mine. I glanced at my maid. Her dress was around her waist. Her forefinger was buried deeply in her puche. She made a gross but appealing figure, squatting there, her pubic hair a dark mat penetrated by her finger!
To my surprise, I realized my dress, also, was up to my waist. Unconsciously I had pulled it upward. I tore my gaze back to the crack through which we peered!
Now the overseer had his prick in Millie. Big hands clutched her buttocks. His hips smashed down; she took him to the balls! His cock came back. Millie's cunt didn't hang to the man's prick as had the Duchess's cunt to my Count's cock!
What a sloppy, loose cunt! Did the overseer get a bit of feeling except that of feminine warmth? Five times he hit her and then, to my surprise, he pulled out his prick. He hadn't stiffened in sexual expression, I felt sure. Then why had he taken his cock from the girl?
My question was soon answered. The overseer larded his prick well with butter, placing a huge gob of lubricant on his cock's tip! Then, carefully, slowly, his thumbs separated Millie's cunt, the gob of butter entered; the overseer bunched his buttocks, squirmed, and again his cock went in, deep and hard.
"You got the butter in the right place!" Millie gasped. "I can feel it way back in me. Now fuck me, Jean, fuck me!"
Suddenly, my body stiffened. Something warm and liquid tumbled down the insides of my thighs. My forefinger had caused me to ejaculate! I looked at my maid, who grinned widely. My eyes went back to the overseer and Millie.
Jean's cock was wild, now. It rose, steadied, plunged down. I heard flesh collide with flesh. Jean's prick made a sucking sound and it ran in and out of Millie's wet cunt.
Now the onlookers were silent. Their eyes were riveted on the overseer's cock. Even the men holding the stallion were without words. They stared and watched closely. The stallion also watched. He still had an erection. Occasionally his cock slapped upward and hit his belly. It was the thudding sound of a man hitting another man in the guts!
I caught the acrid smell of cunt. With it was mingled the sweet odor of butter. I saw melted butter trickle from the bottom of Millie's cunt. It ran down and entered her opening and closing asshole. She paid it no heed. She was too busy fucking. I looked at her face. At that particular moment she released herself sexually!
Her blocky white teeth gritted. Passion grooved deep and hard lines around her mouth. Her lips were pulled back like those of a snarling dog. Her breasts were so rigid the overseer's heavy weight barely dented them!
Millie fucked with wild happiness! Her waist twisted, her hips rose; her hips came down, shinnying down the overseer's prick. For one long moment her hips were doubly wild. I realized her juices were being sprayed from her ovaries. Then she quieted and began a steady rhythmic fucking!
"Tell me-when you're ready-Jean-" she gasped.
Jean kept on fucking. His head lay in her hair. I saw that his eyes were closed. Supreme bliss reflected on his weather-beaten face. He lived in a world inhabited by but two people-himself, cock rigid, exploring, and this big-busted kitchen wench, filled with life and action.
Surely Jean would have to have a sexual explosion soon! I realized the sloppiness of Millie's big cunt-aided and abetted by the melting butter- would delay him somewhat, but surely by now his testicles should have spewed expression?
I heard my companion grunt a little. I looked at her. Her eyes were closed, lips frozen-her finger had also induced sexual release!
I wanted to throw her on her bovine back and mount her in the Lesbian position. For one red moment, I almost released my passion into such a physical proceedings but, to control myself, I looked back through the crack at the man and woman performing the ageless sexual ritual, I stared, mouth dry, throat arid.
CHAPTER TWO
Time and time again, Millie tossed her buttocks sexual release. I became impatient with Jean's lowness. He fucked with a methodical doggedness. But surely he should have had sexual ejaculation by this time!
"Unfortunate Jean," my maid murmured. "He has a wife who demands he be on her continuously. She is very jealous of him. She thinks that if she fucks him all the time he'll be too tired to fuck another woman!
"But because of his position, he has certain obligations. One is that he must fuck women who haven't had fucking for some time. Those are the Count's orders. The Count works on the principle that if a woman is fucked often and deeply she will be much happier and therefore turn out more work."
Well, I thought, well! Then why didn't the Count return and take care of me! I had no work to do-just sing and dance-but I would have felt much more content, I realized!
"When the Count is at home, he, of course, helps Jean, but with the Count gone... I think Jean is about ready to plant his seed in her."
"What makes you say that?" I whispered.
"I know his actions when in sexual embrace. He is a slow worker, but when he is through with you, you know one thing-you've been fucked!"
"You sound as though you speak from experience!"
"Oh, I couldn't guess at the number of times Jean has fucked me. We had a session yesterday morning in his room."
Lucky big fat female, I thought in envy.
"He is just about ready," my companion whispered.
I could see no difference in Jean's movements; they'd not quickened-they maintained the same steady penetrating pace. I was soon to learn that some men do not display great passion at moment of sexual release. Some do not quicken nor do they slow down, but just the same, they shoot their semen into a woman and have very little body or physical change.
Jean was one of these men. "He's going off now," my companion whispered huskily. "I know him."
I watched Jean's ugly face. Only slight movement of his lips portrayed his emotion. Yes, and his spread-out fingers tighted slightly harder on Millie's broad beam. Then, to my surprise, Jean was dismounting, cock slowly trickling out of Millie's cunt.
His knob held two things: a bit of white semen and a bigger bit of butter. Carefully, he manipulated his pecker along the right side of Millie's font, depositing the butter there.
Millie hissed, "You didn't have much!"
"You got enough," Jean said. He stood up and buttoned his fly. He spoke to the stallion's handler. "She should be well lubricated by this time. You've marked the stallion's cock? Here, give me the tape -I want exact measurement, my man!"
Millie still lay on her back, with her legs reared. I saw white fluid seep from the bottom of her cunt. She looked at Jean, who was measuring from the tip of the stallion's knob to the cord tied around the horse's cock. Evidently the cord was exactly the right distance from the knob, for Jean handed the tape-line to the handler. "Are you ready, Millie?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," Millie said.
Now the onlookers watched in silence as the stallion was led to Millie. They had already posted additional bets. Although I knew almost all of them had, at one time or another, been bed partners of Millie, still the majority bet against her taking the stallion's cock to the line!
"Remember I only have to take his cock," Millie said sternly. "I don't have to fuck him! When the edges of my cunt meet the string, then you have to take him off me, remember!"
"I'll remember," the overseer said.
"Don't you dare let him lunge," Millie said. "I don't want to get hurt inside. I've got a lot of years ahead of me, and I don't want them ruined!"
"I'll see you get fair play," the overseer assured.
I watched with bulging eyes. My fat companion breathed so deeply I heard her cow-like breathing.
The stallion was slowly led up. He pawed, then lowered his head, smelling Millie's cunt. She lay with her hands holding her ankles. Thus she rocked back her hips. Her cunt lay level. It was very foamy and sloppy!
The stallion snorted. His wide tongue came out. He licked her cunt in an upward motion. I saw the hair now lay flat and her cunt very apparent It was not an appetizing sight, with its red lips showing and the hair plastered down from the stud's wet tongue!
The stud neighed, his grass-stained teeth showing. He was led slowly up the ramp, shod hoofs grinding plank. Millie's legs parted and went on each side of the horse's barrel. The horse nudged Millie's right breast. Millie squirmed and said that wasn't part of the act. "I'm afraid he might bite off my nipple!" The overseer pushed the pony's head away from the breast. I saw his face clearly. His small eyes glistened. His neck was arched. His cock bounced up and down, out full-length from the big testicles; his cock slapped against his belly.
He stood in the proper position now, cock playing along Millie's behind. His prick landed in her crack. The overseer grabbed the black, hose-like prick. The stallion spread his hind legs wide and braced his body, muscles standing out like ropes under his sleek hide.
The overseer grasped the horse's cock just above the string. He guided it around, and I saw the big knob hesitate over Millie's gaping cunt. I couldn't help it. I had to gasp. The moment of truth had come! Could Millie take the cock... or couldn't she?
Onlookers were silent, watching, eyes straining, necks craned. No cursing jeers blasphemed their lips. Mouths gaped open, showing filthy teeth. More than one of them had his hand on his prick under his rough pantatones.
For one moment, the tableau hung in suspension. The stallion braced, knob against Millie's opening; Millie, also braced, legs up high, Lips a white line in her strained face, her eyes closed.
"Are you ready, Millie?" the overseer asked.
"As ready as-I'll ever-be-, Jean!"
"All right. Here we go!"
The knob sank down. The cunt opened and she obligingly allowed it to enter. I heard Millie's sharp gasp. I thought first pain had sired it, but she said, "Oh, my god, how good! For once I've got enough cock in me-deeper, but slowly, Jean. Very slowly."
"This stallion is hard to handle," Jean said.
He'd spoken the truth. Sexual lust gripped the stud. He had his prick in Millie's warm cunt; nature demanded that he lunge ahead, bury his prick to the testicles in the gaping opening. But were he to do so, I felt sure he'd rupture some female tissue inside of Millie. Millie, indeed, was taking a chance. Only by sheer effort could the stud be controlled! Two men, one on each side, braced themselves, hands flat on his ribs, holding the stallion back! The overseer gripped the big cock savagely, knuckles standing out pale against the black skin!
Braced men grunted, strained. Desperately, the stallion tried to lunge down. His muscles stood out angrily. I glanced at Millie's face. Her face was white, her Lips compressed. My eyes returned to the huge black prick!
Carefully, slowly, it was sinking deeper, ever deeper, in Millie's throbbing puche! Occasionally the overseer manipulated the stud's cock to the right and left. Now the prick was almost halfway in!
Then, the prick suddenly stopped entering! It seemed to have encountered an obstacle! It refused to enter further! My eyes strained; my breath froze. Millie couldn't take the stud's cock! Millie had failed!
I stared at the overseer's hands. He wriggled the prick gently back and forth. His eyes were on Millie's filled cunt. He bit his bottom Hp. He moved the prick this way, then that-and the onlookers stared. "She can't take it," one said. "You owe me, Paul!"
"It isn't over yet," Paul said.
Millie's face didn't show pain. It was still grooved with deep lines, the eyes still closed. I saw her long lashes lying on her white cheeks. My eyes whipped back to the overseer. His face wore a puzzled look as he gently manipulated the prick.
"If s hit a membrane," my fat companion muttered. "Once it gets past that, it will enter the womb-and Millie will be the winner!"
The stallion strained, eager to ram in his cock. The overseer grunted to the men to lift the horse a Little. They strained, legs braced; the stallion fought against them-still, they lifted his body about an inch. The cock slid up and then the overseer nodded and the men lowered the struggling stud again. This time the cock slid in easily. Sweat covered the overseer's forehead.
"He's got past the opening of her womb," my maid said. "Look how easy the cock slides in, now!"
Men cheered. Slowly, the cock went down, down -now it was but two inches from the string. Without warning, the stallion lunged, harder than ever before. Despite the men, his cock shot into Millie. For one moment the string was hidden in the red Lips of Millie's cunt. Millie had taken him! Millie had won!
I caught the stale odor of cunt and cock. The stud had gone wild; he wanted all of his prick in Millie. The men fought him. The overseer kept crying, "The mare, the mare!" What did he mean?
My question was soon answered. Hurriedly a man led in a young Shetland mare. Her glossy black coat glistened, but it was not her coat I first admired-what I first glimpsed was her tail. She held it high and to one side as though her cunt were hot, and it needed ventilating.
The struggling stallion farted angrily. He trumpeted and tried to bite the man at his head. Then, his nostrils flared; he'd caught scent of the mare in heat. Within seconds, he was off of Millie, who sat up. Millie put her arms around her knees and grinned. "For once I had enough cock," she said. "I guess I went off a dozen times, at least. Why don't one of you jackasses have a cock as big as his and be able to satisfy me?"
Her cunt dripped a yellow fluid-a mixture of butter and sexual secretions. My eyes switched to the stud. He had grabbed the mare by the mane. He shook her angrily; she kicked him. Her hind hoofs danced a tattoo on his ribs. She swung her tail to one side, her cunt directly under his nose. He smelled and licked her asshole and puche. Now his cock was very, very hard-even more rigid. The mare swung her hind end around and braced her hind legs wide. I saw her cunt open and close, a red-filled, long slot. And then, the stallion mounted her!
Nothing makes me as hot sexually as watching horses fuck! The scene is magnificent;-one of brutality, yes, but under this is lunging, squealing sex. The stallion's knob lifted, pointed at the mare's puche. His forelegs were locked around her barrel. His hips plunged ahead. His knob reached her just as her cunt opened. The cunt did not close for some time for the stallion's huge prick filled it!
The little mare squealed in joy. She put her head down low. Even her dark eyes rolled as supreme pleasure shot through her young body, for this was her first breeding!
The lips of her cunt opened and closed. They clamped down on the stallion's long dirk, adding pleasure for rum. Suddenly I was aware of my maid's hand grabbing my forearm, her fingers digging. She stared out the crack. She didn't look at the stud and mare, though-her eyes were on Mil-he!
And well they might be! Millie had quit her ramp. She now lay on her back on a saddle blanket. Her legs were reared. And between them toiled one of the onlookers, naked and hairy, his penis in her up to his testicles!
Other onlookers had also discarded clothing. They stood in a line behind the man occupied with Millie. His crack opened as he came back; one man put a handful of chewed tobacco in it. The man's hips went down; his crack closed. Tobacco juice rolled unnoticed down his thigh!
Millie screamed in delight. The mare, at that moment, also trumpeted: the two screams-one human, one horse-met and blended in happiness. Now the man astraddle Millie had his explosive moment. His body froze, his penis dug deep; Millie took him, hips moving up and down, her cunt's lips constricted around his pecker as she drained his life-giving fluid!
I watched the man's cock leave Millie's cunt. He drew back and back and his cock slowly withdrew. I was surprised at its length! His hips came back- still more, and then even more-and still I couldn't see his knob. He had a cock even longer than the Count's, I felt sure; although it was not as big around. Finally the knob came into view. The cunt opened and the knob came out. A drop of white hung to its tip. The prick was white, too, with Millie's juices. The overseer went with the man to the man's trousers. He paid the overseer five pesetas. Millie was going to make a small fortune this day!
Fuck-lust held the men. Now another man was on his knees between Millie's legs. His pecker pierced her, sank to the hilt. He rolled her over and was under her. Another man got on his knees behind Millie. His cock looked dark. He had greased it with axle grease from the bucket near at hand!
He put a hand on each of Millie's curving buttocks. He parted her buttocks. I saw her anus, shiny and hairy. His cock went ahead. He spread axle grease around her anus, and then, his prick stationed correctly, he also lunged ahead. Millie started slightly, but said nothing as his cock ran deep into her anus.
I then realized why she'd not cried out. The man under her had moved his head and shoulders to one side. Another man lay beside him, his cock in Millie's mouth. His hands grabbed Millie's ears. They raised and lowered her head. Her lips, I noticed, tightly encased his prick. When her head came level with his belly, he slightly twisted her head. I noticed, at these times, that extreme pleasure tightened his white lips.
My companion made a slight sound. To my surprise I noticed she'd doffed all her clothes. She was stark naked. She hunkered, huge buttocks spread, her pubic hair glistening. Her breasts had hard, solid nipples. Her lips moved as though she were in a trance.
"That lucky, lucky Millie... "
The thought came maybe she was ready to rush our and join the party. Without really thinking, I started to silently quit my clothes. My puche burned for the entrance of a pedro. Mucous rolled down the insides of my thighs. In my extreme excitement I was undergoing sexual orgasms!
I yearned to run out and get entangled in the cocks and legs of the naked men! Only one bit of logic held me back, though. Were I to run out and lie down, I would have my maidenhead unceremoniously broken! And then the Count would have nothing to do with me, sexually or monetarily. My singing and dancing career would be finished before it had actually got started!
Common sense slowly prevailed. I could not- and would not-cast madly aside a huge future filled with fame for just the participation in a naked Adam and Eve sexual party!
Fascinated, I stared at Millie's bobbing head. I stared at her lunging, swaying ass. I saw the man penetrating her from behind suddenly become gripped with sexual expression. He clapped both arms around her waist. His hips went mad against her curving buttocks, then suddenly they froze- his flesh pushing hers so hard it seemed he wanted his body to become a part of hers!
The man underneath Millie had a sexual explosion a second later. His hands spread her buttocks wide, as passion seared his sinews. The man behind Millie removed his penis. It came out dark and very, very small. When it had entered, it had been big and long! Millie had tamed him!
The man below her poured his semen into her hips. At that moment the man occupied with her head also had his moment. His hands held Millie's head down hard against his brown bag, her nose buried in his hair.
My partner gasped. Her big eyes glistened. She had a hand on each breast, playing with each nipple. The nipples were big and hard. The man at Millie's head withdrew. His tool also withdrew. His tool also was now very limp and lifeless. I watched Millie's throat. I saw it jerk up and down. She had swallowed his semen.
The man below struggled from under Millie. One of her breasts got in his mouth; he sucked it a brief time, and then was on his feet. I got a clear view of Millie's face. She looked drugged and sleepy. A new client came, cock pendulant; he rolled her on her back and impaled her brutally. Then he too rolled the girl so that she was on top. Again, another man, cock greased, hit her anus; again, another impaled her head; again her head started bobbing up and down.
The three men who had just quitted Millie were digging into pants and paying the overseer. One started to dress. I noticed the first man who had compromised Millie was back in line. I also remembered that pay day had been yesterday; These men were wasting money needed by their hungry families!
I could stand no more. My body was a living flame of scorching sexual passion! I got to my feet; I almost fell. My cramped muscles sent pain lancing into my throbbing flesh. I braced one hand against the wall for support, pain ripping down my thighs, my head reeling. Finally, my body became normal, with muscles again strong and young. I started out the back door.
I stumbled over a wooden bucket, stubbing my toes painfully. The bucket clattered to the splintery floor. I paused, heart in my throat; if the sound were heard in the bar, men would rush in and find me naked... and rape me!
I threw back my head and laughed. Strangely, no sound came from my parched throat! I continued toward the door. The men beyond the thin wooden partition screamed and yelled so happily they'd not heard the bucket's rattle. Rape me! What I needed was to be raped... and raped again... and still again!
I forgot I was naked. I forgot I carried my clothes under my arm. Luckily the shed's back door led into the deep wood. Nobody from the mansion could see me step naked in the primeval Spanish wilderness of trees.
Behind me came my gross maid. She also was stark naked. We stood for one moment and our eyes met. I saw her high breasts, her dark nipples, her dark patch of pubic hair. My tongue touched my dry lips. A momentary thought flickered through my brain, a partridge rising and flying hard away: this woman could tell the Count and my future would be forever beyond reach! But my sexual demands were stronger than my logic. When our eyes met they held for some time. Each knew what the other wanted.
Hand in hand, nude, we walked deep into the brush!
CHAPTER THREE
Count Ernesto del Valle's estate consisted of thousands of hectares of land. While much was in cultivation much was also in woods. These woods were his hunting grounds. Here ranged his deer and other animals. And woe would be the lot of a peon caught poaching on his Highness' lands!
Wild boars ranged far back in the brush. Here were the foxes that he and his English guests chased on horseback with baying hounds. He had even imported special grouse for wing hunting. And it was into this wilderness that the maid and I ventured, both stark naked as recorded.
We followed a dim trail leading to a brook. Spiny shrubs sometimes blocked our paths but we, fired with sexual lust, paid them no heed. We sought a spot of rendezvous where each could taste the feminine favors of the other. My young body was surging with sexual ambitions. My throat was dry; my belly heaving; my teats like marble projections! I tried to tell myself that this was wrong. If my Count should hear of this-ah, what repercussions there will be! All my future lay on the balance! Perhaps the gross tongue of this gross vixen, in a moment of extreme passion, might break my maidenhead, shattering to pieces the mystic veil that held me to the Count-and then I thought of the Duchess and I locked in Lesbian embrace, her tongue probing my cunt, and of the Count sitting beside the bed calmly smoking his long and black and foully-smelling cheroot!
Surely this buxom maid of mine was as practiced with her tongue as was the Duchess. The maid, I would guess, had more years than the Duchess; surely, during these years, she had gained more Lesbian experience than the Duchess? I prayed so. I wanted my ovaries to be depleted, my juices to flow from them in madness, my body to, at long last, to know the calm of sexual satisfaction!
We came to a small clearing beside the brook. Here grass grew high and strong in the shade of the oak trees. The lazy brook, stocked with sleepy pike, trickled its way to the sea. There was only the sound of the water. Even birds had fled this paradise. I looked at my maid; she looked at me. She wet her lips, tongue huge and bovine.
A sudden thought came to me. Perhaps it were best we didn't meet first in the normal Lesbian six-and-nine position. The sexy scene we'd witnessed in the stable had sent us both in sex-mad fury. Our nerves were unsteady, our bodies trembling. Were we to sink into the Lesbian position, she, in her anxiety and hurriedness, might accidentally shatter my virginal veil. It would be best that we use other Lesbian positions until the raw edge of our sexual urges had been worn dull, I reasoned.
Not a word had been spoken between us during our sylvan trek. Now, without a statement or phrase, my maid sank on her broad back on the lush growth. She went down swiftly and her behind faced me. She raised her legs high and parted them. I saw her puche and anus clearly. Her eyes watched me between the twin peaks of her huge teats. Her hands came down around her hips. She buried a forefinger in each side of her cunt and opened that portal, showing me its red lips and innermost damp sweetness!
A million lances of hot fire speared through my throbbing flesh, sending my heart into strong and wild beating. My throat became dry as dusty old flour; my thighs trembled with sexual drive! I understood immediately what she wanted. Knees weak, I went down behind her rear end; she smiled over her nipples-I had done what she'd wanted!
Her forefingers had left her puche but it still gaped open, lips turned out as though awaiting my kiss! Small, white drops had collected on her thick hair!
I took her hands and placed them on my pounding cunt. Carefully, slowly, her forefingers entered me; I gasped with pure heavenly joy-but then fear hit me. She could not intrude her blunt forefingers too far, or she'd break my veil. When, by self-inducement, I brought my body to a sexual orgasm I was careful always not to insert my forefinger too deeply into my womanhood!
Ah, the thrill, the sweet sensation, the great passion of her fingers, moving along the secret and red walls of my portal! How delicate, how competent her fingers were; and, at the same time, oh, how careful! She was considerate of me, I thought: she likes me, she doesn't want to alter me so that the Count, instead of fucking me, would boot me out!
My female juices immediately smashed into surging expression (I was that starved, that hungry, for sexual release!) and my hips began working angrily, and, at that moment, I cared not whether she broke my veil or not-such was the greatness of my sexual release! One's finger is not the finger of the other, I long ago discovered; the forefinger of another-be it male or female-is always the greater in satisfaction!
I stared down at her puche. She had lowered her legs, heels now buried in the luxuriant grass; thus, by body leverage, she had raised her cunt-now it looked up at me in dulcet loveliness, lips still remaining somewhat parted-it seemed to beg-yes, implore!-that the red lips of my cunt come into contact with it, and thus both of us-my maid and I-could revel in bounding sexual release, puche to puche!
As if by mutual accord, her forefingers left my portal. The edges of my cunt were now lubricated and ready. I moved my hips slowly forward. Her cunt was slightly lower than mine; by sheer effort, she lifted her rear and our cunts met, hp to lip, pubic hairs blending one into the other in sexual bliss!
Her moist lips clung tightly to mine. My dampened cunt edges adhered immediately to hers. Our hips began to move upward, then downward; we sought to judge the other's pace, thereby making our union more delightful!
Within a few seconds, my glands again broke into wild discharge; also, I felt her huge buttocks, locked in my groping hands, twist and pound hard ahead. I glanced at her face. Her eyes were closed, lids bloodless; at that moment, her clenched lips parted and she gasped in pure heavenly bliss! I was happy. I had ejaculated; she had paced me. Now the lips of our puches were well lubricated; they clung to each other and I heard a harsh sucking sound, much as that made when a bull calf suckles his heavy mother!
I cannot clearly detail all my emotions! My passion was too great to allow for mental clarity; I was a fucking-machine, fucking and fucking, my ovaries responding and responding. My body was wrapped in heavenly bliss; my brain was numb and yet screaming in joy! My woman worked in beautiful precision-at the right moment her cunt, damp and hot, left mine momentarily and, again at the right second, our cunts again met, the suction was again established and we nicked in wonderful harmony, the body emotions of one completely attuned to the fleshy movements of the other!
Time lost all essence, and I completely forgot my sylvan surroundings. There was only this pulsing, throbbing, fucking woman and myself, also throbbing and fucking. I do remember, though, comparing this maid's fucking ability to that of the Duchess; to me it seemed that the Duchess lacked, and I wondered why. I finally decided that the Duchess made a less adequate bed companion because her hips were so much smaller than those of my maid!
I remembered my maid saying that many times the Count tired of fucking small-assed women and went to her, or to my huge-beamed mother, for complete sexual satisfaction. Experience has since taught me that men like a woman with a firm and rather womanly ass. She might lack in the teat section, but they want her waist small and neat, and her hips rather wide. It gives their bounding hips more of a cushion. Their hands, they tell me, also encompass more female, locked as they are with groping fingers around a female ass!
But I am digressing... Here were this maid and I, locked in Lesbian unit, cunt to cunt, our bodies rising, falling, separating momentarily, then meeting again, lip to hp, suction holding us together.
The secret of such a Lesbian conjunction-lip to hp-is in the suction created, for the suction, if properly built up, tickles the sweet nerves in the cunt hp, driving their owner to exotic expression, again and again! Without this suction, the act consists of merely two parts of flesh meeting, nothing more-there is little sexual tingling and the act, without proper moisture and vacuum, is hardly worth the effort!
There must, of course, come an end to all items, and passion is no exception. Although this was the first venture into this form of Lesbian position for us (and you will remember only my second!) we had immediately created a solid and strong sexual adherence that, in time, could lead to but one thing-complete and deep and final sexual ejaculation! We both worked upward, always upward, to that high acme, that lofty peak! Bodies parted, met; lips clung, groped, broke apart-faster, faster, grew our physical movements. I heard the slippery sound of suction being created; I heard it break in a louder sound. We met, hip to hip, cunt to cunt- and, by correct timing, the last sexual release hit both our plunging bodies at the same moment!
We clung, hp to hp; into each other's cunt we poured our sexual juices! Our movements fell from their high peak of activity. Our hip movements became slower and slower, finally ending completely, our cunts still locked. Our heaving flesh became dormant, momentarily calmed. Our breathing was savage and deep; our breasts rose high, plunged down. I lay my length on her mother-like bigness and softness. Her teats were flush with my teats. Our nipples met, but no fire shot through me; I was momentarily sucked dry.
She smelled womanly and eternal. Her flesh under mine gave me great assurance. I felt a great and full lassitude creep into my pores and calm my sinews. Her breathing beneath me was now regular and unexcited. I removed myself from her top, allowing her breasts to rise in normal fashion; I lay beside her and we kissed solemnly and deeply, our arms around the other.
Our lips parted slowly. "Never has a man claimed my body in sexual intercourse," I found myself saying. "Never has a big male cock pounded my vagina. But I don't believe any woman could have had more sexual bliss than I just experienced, even with a man. It couldn't be possible!"
Her big eyes rolled in damp clear sockets. She wet her full lips. She said, slowly, "You are my mistress, Lady Alicia; I am but your servant. But may I be free to state something near and dear to my heart? Something I learned through experience?"
"Certainly."
"I am at least twenty years older than thou. I became a woman at the age of twelve: my uncle on my mother's side then took from me my cherry. For some years I fucked only men.
"I could not guess with how many men I have fucked. I only know this-of them all-the men, I mean-the Count is the best in bed. He has the biggest cock. It is not only the longest I have ever absorbed, but also the biggest around."
My heart leaped. Soon, I prayed, I would meet that cock!
"I had sexual intercourse with my first female when I was twenty six. I had long wondered what Lesbians did or how they felt: I soon learned from this woman. And I must speak truth, Lady Alicia. Since that day I have only tolerated men when they bump their asses against mine!"
I listened, hardly breathing, wondering.
"The Count likes me dog-fashion. He spreads my ass wide and stands on his knees behind me with me on my knees. He likes to point and fasten the end of his prick into either my anus or cunt. Then, with the tip secure, he loves to lunge ahead, imitating a bull.
"I find little pleasure in it. But when I he with a female- In other words, Lady Alicia, I think fucking a woman is great, but fucking a man hasn't much sensation-at least for me!"
"I couldn't say," I admitted. "I have no grounds with which to make comparisons. You know no man has ever covered my teats!"
"That will come," she said wisely. "I am afraid you will not like man-woman fucking. I have a feeling, you, at heart, are a Lesbian-but, as we said, time will tell. I am more often wrong then correct. That is why I am a servant, n'est-ce pas? Oh, what a sweet small cunt you have!"
Her fingers played. I gasped, sexual desires suddenly returning in overwhelming hotness. I gasped, "You will not break my veil, please?" and she looked at me, smiling sweetly.
"I understand well your predicament," she said. "Your heart is set on singing and dancing, Lady Alicia. The Count means well by you. He is a cocksman and some claim him loose of morals. Yes, these two may be true, granted-but he is a man of his word, and he always keeps his word.
"If he breaks your veil he will see you have the best tutors. He has connections in almost all branches of the arts. He is, to put it bluntly, a man of the world-but, also, a man of his word!
"I would never want it said that I broke your maidenly veil and thereby lost your chance to make of yourself what you wish! I, too, have a code of honor, my sweet."
I then told her, against my better wishes, of lying in Lesbian embrace with the lovely Duchess, and she merely nodded and, to my surprise, stated that the Duchess, although competent as a Lesbian, was not the best piece of ass that she had had in her life.
"You have... lain... with the... Duchess?"
"Many, many times, my love. But let us get back to your virginal veil. The urge to savor of your puche is strong in me. I suspect that the same driving force is strong in you. When we are finished your maidenhead will still be stretched solidly and unbroken across your vaginal opening."
I needed no more assurance. We went into the other's arms. By mutual accord I judged she would assume the bottom-the female-position. This was logical; she was much larger than I. Her strong muscles and bigger frame could support my weight better than my weaker muscles and smaller body structure could support her ample body!
We began by kissing in depth. The lips of our mouths clung as warmly and dreamily as had the lips of our cunts! Our lips became hot, sucking and loving; finally, her mouth opened and my tongue- rebel all the time!-moved into her fluid mouth. Our tongues met in loving dampness!
Her glorious tongue swirled and eddied, dragging against mine in magnificent loveliness, and I felt the beginning of passion's rise hot and fervid-a passion that would find surcease only in sexual intercourse. My hips began rhythmic motions, those of the ageless and age-old sex act; our lips burned and our tongues met and built this red fire higher, ever higher!
But tongue to tongue holds not the surging thrill of tongue against uterus, of tongue probing female passages, and soon we were in the six-and-nine, I being the nine, she the six! Lovingly, our lips trembling passed over breasts, sucking this nipple, then that. My fervor grew higher, flames crackling! (The nipples, one knows, are much more sensitive than is the tongue when it meets another's tongue!) My nipples became hard, rounded objects of lust and, when her lips grudgingly and slowly left, my nipple wanted to follow them, begging for more manipulation and loving-for such was the burning of my sexual passion!
My tongue swept her belly, seeking the delightful curvatures of her navel with its roundness and nourishing depth; this my tongue found and my head worked, the edges of my tongue sweeping, tasting this new and budded sweetness-a nectar of the gods, reserved only for Lesbian love-the greatest love there is, bar none! Her tongue now blessed my navel, loving this depression as mine loved hers!
We moved then from navels, tongues hot along muscular bellies, tongues seeking their ultimate golden havens. My head would soon be buried in her heavenly abode, her head would soon rise and move into my curly fleece! Already her head was between my thighs, her ears pressing against my inner hips; now my tongue found her siren spot, and the sweetness of her almost overflooded me, diving me to heights of bliss I had never before attained!
Sweetly, her font opened to my probing tongue, as did my orifice to her loving member. The good odor of her filled my expanding nostrils, thrilled my lungs and made my belly rigid. Her thighs were soft against my cheekbones. I felt her curvaceous form beneath my body, rising and breaking into sexual convulsions. The pounding of my heart thudded in my ears. But of the five senses, the taste was predominant, for the magic juices of her body flowed and flooded my mouth, giving my palate a lingering sweetness!
Thus we mated-my maid and I-in grasping, panting love. Again, I found myself, in an abstract and distant manner, comparing this position I now held with that I had maintained with the lovely Duchess! My thinking was not too clear (passion always dominates my logic when I hold a sexual position, either with male or female!) but, through my plunging brain came one thought: this maid far outclassed the beautiful Duchess!
Although the portal of her Highness had had much more constriction (for it had been much smaller!) the gateway to the womb of my maid held more activities! Her cunt's lips loved my mouth's lips; the muscles in those lips responded more actively to my tongue's sweeping gestures; also, her juices, flowing in wild profusion, were sweeter, more appealing, to me!
As for my maid, she took great precautions (as she'd promised!) with my maidenhead's thin veil. Her tongue danced across it, light as thistle-down, and her tongue played along its edges, brave but still very cautious. And a great happiness surged through me. She would see that I went, naked and hot, to the bed of my Count with maiden veil intact! Her tongue was far more experienced than had been the tongue of her Highness! My maid's tongue danced, whirled, twisted; it pushed against my membrane just correctly; although a bold marauder invading my privacy, it still had finesse and delicacy-and for this, my swelling heart thanked her in silence!
I do not know how many times my ovaries ejected, in wild manner, my womanly secretions; I only know that time and time again in rapid succession, my body froze, naked over hers, my legs gripping her head, my hips sinking down, always down, begging her tongue to enter high-for in these moments of red passion I was temporarily forgetting the safety of my maidenhead! Into her mouth I poured my female fluids; she, in her sweet turn, allowed me to taste again-and yet again!- of her ejaculations!
Thus, bodies coated with fine sweat, there in the brilliant sunshine, we worked, flesh to flesh, to seek sex's highest gratification-the moment when both of us would writhe in final sexual passion, our combined ovaries spilling out, for the last time during this session, our love for the other. Love held us, bound us, made our motions coincide; love made us of one flesh, one blood, one desire. And then, this desire struck us, paralyzing us, throwing us both on the highest wave of passion, suspending us both for one long red and scarlet moment against limitless space, all forgotten but the love each had for the other!
Never shall I forget the violent and grand outpouring her ovaries jetted into my loving lips, filling my mouth with our love! And her tongue, darting, dancing, drew from me the last particle of my white fluid, absorbing my womanhood completely, lifting me to the tallest mountain, suspending me there-and then, slowly, I still astraddle her, our passions died and we came back lingeringly to reality-and I knew, then, the first great feeling of being completely sexually drained and depleted!
We lay then breathing hard, locked in the other's arms. Somewhere a mocking bird sang in lilting lays and I thought, What a splendid benediction... Then my muscles tightened. Hark, what did I hear, off in the distance! Yes, the turn of fast-rolling wheels. A carriage? I looked at my sexual companion, my question in my eyes.
"The main road runs beyond yonder brush," my maid whispered. "No, we cannot be seen from it, my love!"
I was surprised. I thought ourselves very isolated. The wagon wheels came closer. They ground gravel. I heard horses' hooves striking rock. I heard the creak of harness, the swaying of a coach. I could not see it. The coach passed. I crept through the brush. It was just rounding a far curve. I recognized the hansom immediately. My heart leaped into my throat. Happiness flooded me, thrilling my sinews. My lord and master-my Count Ernesto del Valle-had finally arrived!
Before nightfall, I would finally become a woman! BOOK FOUR Death is man's most precious friend. Without death man would never have gone through the evolutionary period that changed an ape to a human.
Death eliminates the weak, and thereby builds strong humanity. Man's desires to evade death made man think. And thinking enlarged man's brain and truly separated man from ape. Man is not a fallen angel. Man is a risen ape.
The Philosophy of Nothing by Count Ernesto del Valle.
CHAPTER ONE
I was happy that my Count Ernesto did not summon me to his bed that day, but that he waited until the next afternoon, for I must admit that my sexual exploits with my big maid had somewhat stilled my sexual demands. I also wanted to be in supreme sexual form when, finally, my Count and I engaged the other, for I wanted to do my best- inexperienced though I were!-with him, and enjoy his cock to the last inch or fraction thereof!
That night I dined with my Count and Count Alfredo de Mariscal in the huge sala with its million glistening facets in the chandeliers! How romantic was our dining, there being just we three! Of course, I had heard before of the famous Count Alfredo! What girl who aspired to the stage and the fortunes therein had not heard of him at that time!
Some critics claimed him to be the one who, in reality, made the great Offenbach famous, for had not Count Alfredo been the first producer to put an Offenbach into living action on the stage? Both the Count Alfredo and the marvelous Offenbach were now very wealthy! And I wanted a share of that wealth.
Between courses, my Count and Count Alfredo talked of the stage, and my heart and blood and sinew thrilled-they dropped famous names as though they were mere words, and these names meant much to me, for I wanted to be as famous as they!
Although a mere girl, I guessed that much they said was unspoken, for never once did the Count mention the reason for the long stay away from his castle. (Later I learned through various sources he had lain with many of the wenches dancing in the new musical Count Alfredo was casting! I think that is one reason my Count didn't take me to his bed as wife that night! He had fucked so much while away, he needed a night of rest alone in his huge bed!) Of course my Count expressed much interest in me, asking me politely how I had passed time while he'd been away-of course, never did I breathe a word about my sexual encounter with my maid! The reports given my Count by my two homosexual teachers seemed to please him. They had told him I progressed rapidly and they looked upon me with promise. My heart thrilled; my blood danced. Evidently my Count had high regard for their opinions, for he disclosed to me that the homosexual brothers had, indeed, led the great and famous ballet dancer Margarita Juanita de la Gansa to her fame through their teachings!
I remembered hearing tongues say that my Count would use my body for but a short time, and then turn me over to the sexual intrusions of some other man-a habit he had long followed. I cast my lowered eyes toward the Count Alfredo... and I liked what I saw!
Count Alfredo was tall-much taller than my stocky Count Ernesto-and his skin very pale for a Spaniard, which spoke of pure Castillian blood unmixed by the Negro of the rotten Moorland. His nose was aquiline, his eyes (thank heavens!) were blue, his teeth, white and even. He wore a short beard, but no sideburns. His body was lean and hard of muscle. That was only natural. Sometimes had played the male lead in one of the operettas also produced.
I got the impression that when the Count Ernesto was finished with me sexually, he undoubtedly could turn me over to Count Alfredo for sexual activities; I must admit, here and now, that this idea pleased me, for I found myself desiring to go to bed, actually, with Count Alfredo and not Count Ernesto, for to me the more attractive was the tall, straight Count Alfredo! But I would, of course, abide by the wishes and desires of my patron Count, Count Ernesto.
I wore a very low-cut gown that exposed the deep V of my youthful breasts, concealing only my lovely nipples. Time and time again I found the errant eyes of Count Alfredo wandering from his pheasant to my breasts; I smiled inwardly, for I had him on the hook, I felt sure. My maid was an intelligent woman. I decided, if possible, to take her with me when I left Count Ernesto's mansion. The meal lasted four hours, for the Count Ernesto loved good food and dined more slowly than most caballeros, although Spanish gentlemen, as the world knows, love to dine slowly and drink much-and much there was to imbibe, the tinta wine of Barcelona being my favorite then, even as it is to this day! I drank sparingly and carefully, though, for I wished to be very sober when my Count impaled me, but, alas, as time progressed, my two male companions became drunker and drunker.
I did not like this. I had heard my father many times disclose to my mother that, when he was drunk, or had drunk too much, he was not very efficient in bed, a fact he had verified one night when he'd come home drunk, and I had lain and watched my naked mother attempt to perform the sacred act.
My father's cock had refused to become hard and erect although, he stated, in slurring voice, he wanted to fuck my mother. Her warm palm had caressed his prick, rubbing back and forth, as he had stood on his knees, naked in the dim light; this, though, had done little good even though she had made her hand into a fist, skinning his foreskin back and forth, much as a man polishes a piece of wood with sandpaper. After some time so skinning, my father's prick had hardened very little. Anger at his impotency had gripped him. He'd sworn huskily and tears had run down his work-worn cheeks!
My mother had then placed his prick in her mouth. She had skinned back and forth in this manner, her mouth going down flush with his testicles. My father had put his hands around her head, and his head had been down in shame and remorse while my mother's mouth worked, saliva seeping out each corner.
Even after these many years, I clearly remember the scene. I had lain there under my dirty blanket, a mere girl, and had watched through slitted eyes, my heart pounding under my teats, which had just -to my happiness-started to expand and hint of the huge and rounded and pointed growth they own today!
I can see my father yet, he on his knees, his belly sagging slightly, his rounded and big buttocks a solid curvature. And I can still see my mother's head moving in and out, her teats hanging and hard-nippled, her ass working at the hips, her cunt large and hairy and already filled with white fluid for so badly did she wish my sire to put his prick to her and relieve her of sexual lustings!
Although she worked for some long time, my father's cock refused to become rigid enough for ample entrance, although, as I have stated, my mother had a huge cunt, very long and apparently very loose. Finally, my mother quit in disgust; still, sexual desires flared hot in her massive flesh!
She put my father on his back. Then she mounted him, his cock in her hand. He lay with closed eyes, belly rising to disturbed breathings. She settled her hips over his prick. Her hips wriggled, this way, then that; finally, she had the knob of his prick in her cunt. Still holding his cock, her hips slowly sank down; finally, her cunt touched her fist, which she slowly loosened and withdrew; still, her hips went down, and a faint smile passed across her tense lips as she absorbed my father's prick entirely! I can still hear her whisper, "I must work easily, beloved, or your cock will slip from my opening, and we shall have to start all over again."
"My cock is very hot," my father muttered. "Soon it shall be hard, my love. Oh, you went, didn't you, though!"
For my mother's huge body had frozen, seemingly made of stationary steel. Her lips twisted, her cheeks went white, as she poured her juice around his prick, giving it even greater warmth!
"I needed... that!" she gasped.
"Watch out!" my father said angrily. "My prick almost slipped out! You raise your ass too high! Use a shorter stroke, bitch!"
My mother's hips then moved up and down more slowly. As her ass went up I saw his prick in the space between her rising thighs and his flat hips. His cock was beginning to grow erect and hard; my mother was working him to the point of having a stiff pecker!
I don't remember how many times she went off, for that scene is indistinct through passage of time -but I do remember his cock, growing longer and bigger and more rigid until at last, he heaved her on her back, his cock sliding from her cunt.
His pecker stuck out at an upward angle, big as a small pole and very long, the red knob quivering with animal lust. He grabbed my mother's ankles, spread her legs high and wide; he came in behind her, outstretched cock against her cunt. Holding her legs still upright and wide apart, he adjusted her ass until his knob touched the lips of her flowing font. I glanced at his face. It was ugly and bestial. My eyes returned to his cock and her cunt. He now had the knob in her orifice, which was sloppy and gray with semen.
His knob adjusted properly, his hairy hips lunged ahead; my mother took him to the balls. They began to fuck madly. His hands encased her plunging, rearing, falling rear. Within seconds, both had reached violent and fulfilling climaxes, their groans cutting the thin air.
For a moment they clung together, my mother's cunt twitching as she drained the last semen from my father; they uncoupled then, my father's prick now short and soft and bent. I remembered thinking, "So that's how a woman gets a drunken man to get a hard-on," and stored what I had seen in my mind for future reference.
What if the Count were drunk when we went to bed? Could I get him to have a hard-on? Desperately, I tried to remember each tactic, each movement, my mother used. I was scared. I was no competent cunt-woman. I had never had a man's prick in my cunt!
What if my Count and I went to bed, with him inebriated-and I failed to raise a hard on the man? Would he grow angry, boot me from his bed? I remembered my mother first using her mouth on my father's prick. I would do the same with my Count!
Fortunately the problem never arose. At midnight, the two Counts pushed away from the table, bade me a drunken goodnight, and wobbled out of the room, arms around each other, my suspicious eyes on them. Were they going to sleep together? Were they like my music and dance teachers-two homosexuals? I went to my bedroom and threw myself on the bed, sobbing angrily. The evening had turned out completely wrong! I should not have been lying alone on this bed lamenting my fate.
I should not be lying naked on my back, my legs raised and apart; between my thighs should have been my Count, cock deep into my vagina, my maidenhead shattered and a thing of the past while my master pumped his semen into me, sending his life's fluid deep against my exploding ovaries!
I fell asleep completely dressed. I awakened in the morning with a slight headache from the wine. My fat maid had undressed me. I asked her about my Count. She told me had had fallen drunken in the hallway while going to his room. Count Alfredo had tried to lift up his companion and in turn had toppled. Their men-servants had taken each to his separate bedroom. No, my Count had slept alone, the fat one related; no, he'd commanded no kitchen wench or housemaid to grace his bed. And my maid had another bit of news for me.
"After a night of drinking, Count Ernesto is very, very sexy. All he wants to do next day is fuck, fuck-and then fuck some more."
I prayed he'd come to me for his fucking! My cunt was hot, and it bothered me; I wanted him to calm me. I thought of going into sexual union with my maid, but quickly discarded that. I wanted my ovaries filled, and to the bursting, when his prick entered and contacted them in red warmth!
The morning wore slowly on. I stayed in bed; I was completely naked. I ate my breakfast in bed. A terrible thought hit me-perhaps the Count didn't care to have sex with me? Perhaps he figured my age too young? I banished these alarming thoughts, remembering a girl of twelve he'd taken from the fields a year ago and into his bed!
My maid acted as my liaison woman. She continuously brought me reports: Count Ernesto still slept, but Count Alfredo was up and dressed! I prayed Count Alfredo would not come to my room. I knew that if he did, he, and not Count Ernesto, would claim my maidenhead-for my body and soul ached to have Count Alfredo's pecker in me, "s body pumping against my full thighs! At eleven-fifteen, my maid informed me that Count Alfredo had gone to bed with the homosexual brothers! The three of them, drunk and loud, were staging a sex orgy in the room of the brothers! My maid had been bold enough to open the door a crack and glance in!
"I cannot tell those homosexuals one from the other," she related, "but one was on his knees with Count Alfredo impaling him and the other was behind the Count, he also impaling the Count. They made quite a trio, you may believe! All, of course, were naked!"
My heart sank; fear gripped me. Would my Count Ernesto, upon awakening, join the homosexual trio, and become the fourth naked member of that train? I voiced my fears to my maid.
She shook her head slowly. "Count Ernesto loves the boys, yes-but first, he loves the girls, Lady Alicia! Unless some other comely wench catches his wayward eye he will come to you, my love."
"Perhaps I should brush aside womanly conduct and go naked to his bed?" I suggested.
Again, she shook her head. "The Count would throw you out of the castle. He does not like women who take the first steps. He is still a man of the old school-a complete and courteous hidalgo of old Spain.
"He wants no rash women. He will come to you if and when his fancy-and his hard prick-command. Be patient, my sweet."
Another fear now plagued me: had this heavy-set woman told my Count about her sexual intercourse with me? I doubted that. I, also, had played a few cards; last night, before my retirement, I had asked her to go with me as my personal maid, for I felt sure I would soon leave the Count's castle and enter the theatrical world-or why would Count Ernesto have taken Count Alfredo out to his castle except to gauge me as future stage material-and a future income for him?
It was with some relief that, at one-fifteen, my maid told me that Count Alfredo requested my presence in the music salon, where he and the orchestra and the homosexual teachers were congregated. "I believe he wants you to sing and dance for his inspection," my maid said.
My flesh tingled and my breath caught. What should I wear? I decided on only a bra and panties, both of black silk. Black set off my hair and olive skinned, lovely, young body. Black, I had also heard, was very, very sexy. Within minutes, I was in the music room, the black-silk dressing gown the Count had given me tight around my waist, accentuating my hips and my high-pointed breasts.
When I entered the big high-domed room, soft chamber music-a Strauss waltz-drifted about lazily and dreamingly, the muted strings of the six-piece all-string orchestra-the castle band-sweeping lazily across emotions. To my surprise, the ballroom was crowded with kitchen help, stable-hands and others of the Count's employ. I gasped at the size of the gathering.
"Count Alfredo wants an audience to watch you," my maid informed. "By their applause-or lack of it-he can judge your impression on the ordinary theater-goer, I understand."
The homosexual brothers met me and led me grandly out onto the improvised stage. To state that my heart was in my throat, huge and choking, is an understatement: all I had pointed my life toward lay ahead-with this exhibition, I would either go up, or be cast aside. I also knew now why Count Ernesto had not come to grace my lonesome bed. He was awaiting Count Alfredo's estimation of my possible future as a singing and dancing diva!
Were Count Alfredo's estimation highly in my favor, then Count Ernesto would, undoubtedly, engage me in a sweet sexual duel; were Count Alfred's verdict thumbs down, out of the castle I would go, toward the fields! For my Count would not want me to be in any way obligated to him, any further, or he to me. Where it thumbs down, Count Ernesto would not come and fuck me!
Some country bumpkin could then claim my maidenhead! My life would be finished, as far as my ambitions were concerned. All my future lay in Count Alfredo's decision. I can remember him now, sitting off to one side, alone, scowling as he cradled a cup of wine in his long, bony hands. He looked at me and merely nodded, nothing more-I was on trial, I was alone, and I was afraid!
The musicians deserted Johann Strauss and swung into the merry lilt of an operetta now currently very popular: the song, Mi Bella Dama. My spirits surged much higher; the homosexual brothers and I had concentrated upon this lovely carol. We had danced to it and I had sung it.
I was to be the star, the dancing diva, of this short act. My job was to lead, the brothers to follow; we found the bar, and we swung in. My glorious breasts, naked except for covered nipples, glistened in the bright fight of the dome window overhead; sweet sunshine bathed my body, giving my thighs added luster. Thus we moved, the three of us, into our dance.
Within three steps, I had forgotten my environment. Happiness surged in my soul; I lived only for my dance. Gone was the audience, the huge ballroom, the Count Alfredo, everything! There was only the music and the two male homosexuals and myself, dancing in perfect unison!
Although since that glorious day I have danced with dozens of men, either singly or in a chorus line, never have I danced with men who complimented me, who fitted into my style, as did those two homosexual brothers-for their hearts were hearts of music, their movements gliding grace. We faced Count Alfredo, who never once, I was told later by my maid, lost his terrible scowl. My leg went high, almost touching my huge breast; the Count had to see my cunt, for it was directly before him-poised and waiting, even though lightly covered by silk.
(How foolish I then was! I hoped, in some measure, that my cunt would help me gain fame with Count Alfredo; later I learned that, if he could remember the number of females he had seduced, he would have needed a clerk to count them up and keep record!) So, we danced, we three!
There came then the time when I should lift my voice in song. The brothers would not sing; they would merely dance with me. I timed the music and wet my lips and cleared my throat, my heart like a wild deer pounding against my ribs! Then, the moment came, and I joined the orchestra at the correct moment despite my shivering nervousness.
My singing, the brothers had told me, was my weak spot, for my dancing was good-now I faced my really crucial test with the greatest music master of all Spain hunched forward in his chair, dour and downcast. Within three words, my voice was excellent-my words rang out, sweet and lilting, filling the huge ballroom, fading against the expensive Madras-silk drapes.
I believe that never since have I sung so well. I had no fears, no thoughts of failing; I had just my voice, clear and lovely, and my legs, rising and falling; and beside me danced the two brothers, we three a unity of motion and song-and so, we went through the dance-and then it ended.
We bowed, the three of us, hands joined; the audience went mad. Boots stomped, men shouted, women screamed and giggled, demanding more. One of the brothers glanced at Count Alfredo, who drew his hand across his throat, signifying no more. Then the brothers and I fled-I to my room where I lay on my bed, my head in my hands, sobs shaking my shoulders and teats.
Thus my maid found me. She sat beside me, the bed sinking under the weight of her large ass, and she laid a motherly hand on my bare shoulder. "Why do you weep, my love?"
"I was not good!" I gasped out. "I was slow and low on my first three words, of my song! I made a bad beginning. One time I was slightly out of step. I cannot lead as well as I should!"
Her wide face was very solemn. "I pray your fears are not pounded. I heard a brother say to the count that you are the best they have ever taught, and the other brother nodded confirmation."
"Where is the Count now?"
"He went directly to Count Ernesto's room. He will give Count Ernesto his verdict. He said nothing in return to the brothers. Never once did he even smile or show an emotion while listening and watching. But the audience was wild with joy."
"That audience was a bunch of clods!" I said angrily. "They were not the sophisticated, cultured audience of Madrid or Paris. I fear I have lost, my darling."
Her face was very grave. I understood her fears, too-all her future depended upon my success. Had I not been successful, she'd spend her life in kitchen drudgery. She, too, had much at stake.
"I shall leave and find out what I can," she said, rising. She left and I continued sobbing. Within a moment, she burst into the room, mouth quivering with excitement.
"He comes... he comes... he comes-" I sat up, heart jumping. "Who comes?"
"Count Ernesto, my love. One of the homosexuals just told me in the hall. He comes toward your room. He wears but a robe. The robe came open and the homosexual saw that the Count wears nothing under it. You have succeeded. He comes to tell you, my love. I must scurry!"
She fled her bulk from the room. I stood alone, slightly terrified, but still, looking forward to what lay ahead in anticipation. For the fact was clear: had I not been successful, Count Ernesto would not come to see me in person! He would have sent his secretary to inform me of my failure and to tell me to leave Count Ernesto's castle!
But perhaps he would turn into some other door than mine? This fear now paralyzed me! Just because he was coming the direction of my door was no sure sign he would pass the other doors wherein chambermaids and others lived!
I ripped off my bra. My breasts jutted, naked and clean and large-nippled. I tore off my scanty panties. My pubic hair, thick and matted, grew to my navel, damp and appealing.
I stood there, eyes on the closed door. My heart beat so loudly it made a din in my ears. I did not hear my Count come. That was because either my heart beat too loudly or the thick carpet in the hall muffled his bare feet. But there came a gentle knock on the door!
A caballero, my Count; always a gentleman! The entire castle knew he came to lead me from girlhood into womanhood, yet he, always courteous, knocked, and I heard a female voice say, "Come in, my Count!"
Was that voice mine? It seemed to come from behind me. Yes, it was my voice-strained, fearful, and yet happy! And then, my Count entered. He closed the door softly behind him. His calm eyes took in my naked, swelling, hungry body.
He wore a red-silk robe. A wide belt knotted it around his waist. I looked below the belt. My soul leaped. I could see it, there-pushing against the robe, making the robe stand out! Soon that cock would be in me. Soon my maidenhead would be forever shattered!
Soon he would be on me, pumping his semen into my hungry hips. Soon, I would be a woman!
At long last, a woman!..
CHAPTER TWO
I expected my Count to take me in his arms. To my surprise, he did not; nor did he shrug off his robe-in fact, he never even loosened his belt! He went to the bed and sat down. I felt like a fool, standing there, naked-I wished, then, I'd not been in such a hurry to disrobe!
I sat beside him on the bed. "Count Alfredo came to my room after your performance," he said.
My heart sank. His voice sounded anything but cheerful! Had Count Alfredo gone to my Count's room to tell my Count I had no future as a dancer and singer? Oh, my god-merciful god!-not that!
"Yes," I managed to say.
"Count Alfredo is a man who all his life has been in the entertainment business. Many are the men- and women-he has auditioned. Some he has sent to the top. Others, of course, failed to win his approval!"
My heart hammered wildly. Failed to win his approval... My Count had come in person to tell me I had failed. I got to my feet, knees numb, my thighs without life, the dull realization hitting me- I was through before I'd really got started!
He looked up at me. "Where are you going, Alicia?" I tried to speak; no words came. My throat refused to function. My teeth were frozen in my gums, my tongue frozen to my teeth. He took my hand and pulled me down beside him again. I sat with my head in my hands, hair spilling. I was too heartsick to weep, I realized!
"Perhaps I am not telling you what I want to say in the right way," he said gently. "I drank much last night; my mind is not too clear today. But let us return to Count Alfredo...
"As I stated, Count Alfredo is a man of great importance in the field of dancing and music-the theatrical world. He has weeded many unfits from the rank before they entered. He has never been wrong-even once-in his judgments. Each he picked to go high in the entertainment world has gone to stardom."
Oh, god-would he never, never stop! Why didn't he just come to the point-tell me, in direct words, that I hadn't made Count Alfredo's appraisal? Why did he rub my soul raw, dissect my heart and look at it!
"Yes," I mumbled.
The Count reached into his pocket. To my surprise he came out with a folded bit of legal-looking paper. "Count Alfredo has asked me to get your signature on this, Alicia!"
My signature-?
"What is it?" I asked faintly.
"It is a contract. He will act as your agent. You will go soon to Madrid with him and he will put you- Alicia, what's the matter?"
I had sunk back on my back on the bed. I had not fainted, but the world buzzed around me, a confusion of sounds and a scatteration of a million dancing dots and lights. I couldn't breathe; I couldn't think; I couldn't move. I had passed! I was going to stardom! The greatest critic in all Spain had a contract for me! My future was made!
I put my hands over my eyes. My breasts rose and heaved and fell with terrible breathing. My belly was stone. I remember the Count rising and spreading my legs, lifting them high. I remember thinking that soon he would launch his cock into my cunt. But instead, he merely patted me on the cunt-the first time a man's fingers had touched my puche. He would be the first to touch it... but not the last!
"My dear, my dear, my dear," his dear lips uttered.
I remained, legs raised. My shock had gone slightly; I watched him from between my fingers He stood there and looked down at my virginal cunt. I thought he would mount me, but instead he went to the small table and took a wine decanter and two glasses back to the bed, and he again sat down. He pushed down my legs and put an arm under my nakedness and lifted me to a sitting position. Then he poured two glasses of wine, handed me one, lifted his and said, "To Lady Alicia, the future queen of all operetta!"
He sipped his wine, no more: I drank as though my soul depended upon the fermented juice of the grape! The wine hit my stomach; a ball of warmth spread. I took the contract. I stared at it. I went to the table and signed it without reading it, my Count signing as witness to my signature!
(Foolish, stupid female! But had I read the contract, I'd probably not even understood it; now my lawyers read all my contracts and advise me. For the contract read that Count Alfredo would have fifty per cent-yes, fifty per cent-of my gross income for four years! And the usual agent gets only ten per cent!
(Indeed, in one sense I was fortunate: Count Alfredo could have written a contract that would have taken fifty per cent of my gross income for the rest of my life, I was that rattled, addle-brained and ignorant!) "I must return this contract to Count Alfredo," Count Ernesto said. "He shall have duplicates made and then you and he shall sign them. Soon you will leave my castle, Alicia."
My heart again leaped. Was he sending me from his castle without first taking my maidenhead! Were he to do this-well, was it possible that the great cocksman, the cunt-hound Count Ernesto del Valle, was so sexed out he couldn't tend to a virgin, when many men had fought-and died-to be able to say they had once-just once in their lives!-broken a maidenhead?
"Yes, so I shall, my lord," I said. "And I thank you, sire, for your great aid. Without your help, my Count, I'd be still in the files, my back aching from hoeing your maize!"
Where-oh, where-was this chatter leading us?
He looked down at my bare legs. I saw his eyes roam up and study my pubic hair. I saw him wet his tongue. He took my hand and put it under his robe and made my fingers lace around his cock. It was big as a piece of pipe! It stood rigid as a piece of pipe, also!
"Have you taken your magic drink each day?" Did his voice sound constricted?
My bold fingers kneaded his prick slightly, as I'd seen my mother knead my father's cock. Grateful I was now that I had lain awake watching my father fuck my mother!
"You commanded me to do so, my lord," I said, "and what my lord commands is what I do. Each day in the morning I have drunk the glass that my maid hands me."
"That is good, my love."
My hand was wrapped around his pecker, now- I felt heat spear through my womb. I knew I had had an ejaculation! I was that hungry for his prick, that hot for a man's attention!
My fingers skinned his cock up and down, lingering, the longer on his knob-which throbbed with life, pulsing and huge. I almost swung my thighs over his and fucked him as he sat on the bed! How terrible was my girlish heat, how burning were my nipples and puche!
But my lord seemed in no hurry. He continued letting me play with his prick, his hand resting idly inside my thigh, fingers inert against my burning flesh. "You have been with no man, my love?"
"Definitely not, my Count! My maidenhead is awaiting you, as the doctors said when examining me. I have saved my virginity for the man I love!"
(What an idiotic, stupid speech! But I really believe I meant it, too, at that time! I had no love for the Count! He had none for me! He looked upon me only as a potential piece for his prick! I, in my girlish heat, misread his attentions as those of love! How more intelligent he was! How correct he was in saying what I next record!) "Let us get something correct," he said softly. "You do not love me. I do not love you. You want me to-well, have sex with you. I want to have sex with you, also. But do not confuse the sex act with the essence of Love!"
(At that time I didn't clearly understand him; now, alas, I really do!) "You are grateful to me for what I have done for you," he said, "and think you should repay me by fucking me, if I may be bold enough to use a word considered so vulgar, my Alicia. But you will fuck me, not because you love me and I am Count Ernesto del Valle!
"You will fuck me because you want to be fucked, and because you consider you are, in one sense, obligated to me. But by the same token, you could be obligated to some other man and desperately want him to fuck you, also. Therefore you are not in love with me-or I with you. You and I are merely a man and a maid who each wish to fuck the other. Do you understand?"
"I-I think so, my lord."
"I can find fucking wherever I go," he said slowly. "This castle has a hundred or so women that would fuck me immediately if they knew that I needed and wanted a-well, a piece of ass, Alicia."
"I understand that, my Count!" Was he trying to evade breaking my maidenhead? If he were, I'd dash out to the stables after he left and he in front of the first man, dress raised, and cunt bare!
"Nevertheless, I shall fuck you, Alicia!"
Again, my heart vaulted. But why did he talk so much about it? I loosened the pressure of my fingers on his cock. I might jack him off accidentally! I had seen men jack off, you know!
Sometimes men left the fields and went into the brush. I had followed a few. I had seen them piss, and then begin to play with their cocks. Soon they were on the ground lying on their sides, their hands skinning back and forth.
Three times I had seen my mother enter the clearing. She had said, "I saw you come here, Jose (or Juan or Pedro, or whoever you are), and I came to fuck you." And within seconds the man's cock would leave his hand and ram itself to the testicles in either my mother's mouth, anus, or cunt! So, accordingly, I relaxed my feverish hold on my Count's rising prick! I rolled over on the bed. He stood up and let his robe fall. I can remember him yet; even now, the sight is not appealing!
His belly protruded, a little huge. He had faint breasts-small as those of an eight-year-old girl!
His thighs were small for his body, but his shoulders huge. And his prick, round, big, hard, tough-jointed, stood upright as it had the day when he launched his manhood deep into the Duchess!
I raised my nakedness on one elbow, his prick inches from my face. I used every trick I'd seen my mother utilize. I leaned forward and my tongue brushed the tip of his cock just so lightly. My tongue came back slightly salty; suddenly, I liked the taste! It appealed to me! I moved closer. Within seconds, his prick was between my lips, his masculine smell in my nostrils as I buried my head in his pubic hair!
Back and forth, back and forth, went my mouth, loving here, pulling there, releasing here-and my frenzy grew, my body pounded with lust. Gently, he got me under him, his head pointing to my feet -thus, we made our first union, and it was in a far different position than a man and maid usually use in making their first sexual connection!
His weight was heavy on my breasts; skillfully, I got him on his side, neither of us breaking sexual connection during the maneuver! His head lay inside my thigh. My other thigh was over his neck. I lay on his thigh, his leg over my head; thus, we engaged in obscene sexual intercourse!
His prick pulsed within me, and I took it gladly. I felt his tongue open the lips of my cunt, strong and sure; his tongue was broad no longer, but was like a rolled cylinder! His tongue entered me, and loved around the edges of my maidenhead, strong but always under control. A thousand delights swept me, tightening my muscles; I spilled my womanhood, frozen and rigid for a long, happy moment. Then this passed, and we continued, my ovaries again and again flinging out my liquid seed!
I loved his savor, rolling his manhood on my tongue. Passion increased; we flung body against body; I sense his moment was close. Then it burst upon me, his semen; it sprayed me, I loved its taste, its texture. I swirled it in my mouth, then, finding its flavor gone, I swallowed it. It moved down my throat, trickling down; it became a part of me, and my Count and I uncoupled.
We lay side by side, lips locked, breathing heavily, enjoying the other's body, our fluids still a taste in the mouth of the other. And a thought came to me, winging across bliss: he had not broken my hymen! Why had his tongue, round and hard, not shattered my maidenly veil?
The answer came clear, ringing across red space: he saved my maidenhead for his cock! That was correct. That was just! That was the way of a maid and her lover, the eternal manner of delivering a female into the gracious lap of wonderful womanhood! My heart thrilled; my blood sang!
Our rest was of short duration; he stirred, and so did I, and we mated again, with me on my hands and knees, his prick entering from behind-and not touching my puche!
My heart thrilled for my lover! What a man-all man-was my gracious Count, my protector, my lover! A few moments before, his testicles had launched his semen into me; now he employed me in another sexual manner, seeking again to eject his white fluid of life into my curvaceous, hungry body!
(I must admit, here and now, that my Count Ernesto del Valle has been, perhaps, the best cocks-man I have entertained. Other men, regardless of age-young or old-have had to rest, but not the Count. He seemed a perpetual sex-machine; no woman in the world was more thoroughly-and completely-initiated to sex than was I, there in the castle of my Count!) Of course, I'd never before taken a man's cock up my anus and, being always interested in my emotions, I plumbed the depths of my emotional state. I found that I liked the movement of a man's appendage in and out of my asshole! That sounds strange, for a woman has no sexual excretions in this area, of course; still, the friction of a cock moving back and forth, tightly contained and moving under pressure is a great and noble feeling, especially when she so consorts with a male who is, at the same time, attentive to her cunt!
For the Count-master cocksman that he was, indeed!-did not abandon me to only one form of pleasure-not my Count! His forefinger, moving down under his lunging body, contacted the rim of my puche, and there began to play-not in unorganized manner but in regimented conciseness!
Gently, his forefinger parted my cunt; his forefinger rubbed along its many red lips, and delicious thrills lanced through my heated flesh! Ah, how good, how sweet that finger-playing but never entering deeply, running to the edge of my maidenhead, the fingernail very carefully bent back so its edge would not cut-or shatter-the thin membrane!
My flesh, my soul, my body, shivered in delightful sexual spasms, my ovaries spilling again and again... and yet again. I remembered watching my mother's anus while it had entertained my father. How, when only his knob was inside her, her anus contracted, muscles hard and rigid, as though defying my father's cock to again enter-and how my father's prick, even when it was greased, had a hard time making another entry.
My father, being a peon, used cooking fat for his lubricant; my Count used a sweet-smelling perfumed grease that, I later learned, came from faraway romantic India, at an exorbitant cost With this lubricant, my Count also imported powdered rhinoceros horn, a substance which I believe to this day helped give my Count a greater sexual staying power!
My Count's hips assumed greater speed. They smashed against my rounded buttocks; I spread wide, thereby giving him deeper entrance. I quickly learned the rhythm of this form of sexual connection. When he went in, my anus spread; when he withdrew to his knob, my anus contracted. I knew, from his hard-moving hips, he was close to sexual expression; therefore, my efforts became stronger. There came a blinding moment for both of us, for his forefinger again had touched the right spot.
My ovaries sprayed in happy profusion. At that same moment, his prick shot forth the semen from his testicles. I felt it hit me inside; I felt it splash. His hips froze momentarily against mine as he sought the greatest depth. I spread wider, my puche dripping white; he stayed emotionless, and motionless, for a great long moment and the world spun in sexual happiness about my buzzing brain!
I shall never forget him withdrawing. Of course, it was the first time a man's prick had left my anus; it would not be the last! But I am a great one to diagnose and revere first impressions!
I felt his cock go limber within my colon. His forefinger gently left my cunt. He placed both hands, palms down, on the curvatures of my buttocks. Then, carefully, slowly, he pushed me ahead and, at the same moment, his hips went back-and I felt his prick leave me!
Even though his cock lacked rigidity, it slowly left my anus-for my asshole was that tight, having been used for the first time in sexual intercourse. His prick moved back, caught; he pushed harder on my buttocks, his hips squirmed-and his cock moved back, slowly back, the huge knob dragging, sending dashing flames and happiness into my flesh!
Finally, only his knob hung in my anus. He left it there a while. I glanced back between my legs. I saw his testicles, withdrawn now into their brown bag; I saw his cock, emerging from my ass. What a lovely sight it was! And then, without warning, his cock fell free of me!
He looked down at it. He looked at my anus, brown and round and hairy. He patted me with his palm on the cunt.
"We shall rest and love a while," he said dreamily.
He wasn't talking to me. He talked to my anus and my puche!..
CHAPTER THREE
My Count lay in my naked arms. He lay with one hand idly thrown over my cunt, forefinger buried in my thick hair. His cock hung limp as he lay on his side. His belly heaved to his deep breathing. His head lay on my arm. Soon my Count was sound asleep!
Because of the drawn drapes, the room was in semi-darkness. I lay on a bed with a silk coverlet from Rome and a mattress from Petrograd. The sweet odor of a slight perfume laved my nostrils. I looked at the huge chandelier made of pendants from London. I sighed. Was this a dream?
In my peon shack we slept on the hard ground. We used gunny sacking for covers. The perfume came from the stench of the hog-sty behind the jacal. At times this stink got so nauseating one almost had to puke.
The shack had no windows; therefore, there were no curtains. The door was a gaping opening that a sack was draped over when cold wind blew. Hah, no chandelier there, Alicia! No, the flickering light was a string, soaked in hog's fat, in a wooden saucer! Maybe I was dreaming?
I lifted my head slightly. Across the room on the small oak table, I saw a brief piece of white-my contract with Count Alfredo! I looked at my lover's face. He slept soundly, nostrils moving in and out to deep breathing. I reached down and gently caught his cock. He didn't stir. I held his cock a moment between hot fingers, the sexual desire within again rising. No, this was no dream! His cock was real flesh and blood-without bone!
I let the cock fall gently. I leaned back. Soon, I, too, slept. When I came awake, darkness had come. The Count still slept. I noticed, though, that his cock was hard now, standing out and rigid.
My fingers trembling with sexual desire, I gently cradled his prick between my sweaty palms, playing with it very gently. It became harder and harder... and even more hard! My hands worked faster, sliding back and forth; I dropped one hand, encased his prick in my right-I continued skinning it back to the balls, then forward over the knob!
Outside, dogs bayed at the moon. Otherwise, the castle and grounds lay in dark silence. The world held no other persons: just my Count and I, and soon my veil of virginity would be shattered by this enormous cock and I would, at long last, be admitted to the sacred ranks of womanhood!
I realized well why my Count had taken me first in the mouth, secondly in the anus. He deliberately reserved using my cunt as the last measure, for he probably had wanted to enter it with a very masculine and hard prick-thereby giving me more pleasure than if he had entered me with a cock that was not bone-rigid! Fine sweat coated my heaving belly; my nipples were of steel, standing out from my pulsing breasts in upright stiffness!
My thoughts skipped to Count Alfredo. How big was his prick? How well did he conduct himself in bed? My heart sang. Soon I would have his hard, big frame covering my curvaceous softness, his cock deep into my vagina! A great and pleasant future lay ahead!
I felt ashamed of my thoughts. I lay with my Count, not with handsome Count Alfredo! I thought of my sex sessions with the fragile Duchess and my sturdy maid. Suddenly my tongue lusted to enter a cunt! I could taste the fluids of a woman on my palate; her sweet smell permeated my senses, her heaving breasts seemed to rise and plunge beneath my belly, as, in imagination, she and I lay in the six and nine embrace of the Lesbians!
Although some ten years have slipped by since that morning, I realize now many things I then did not: I was to become both a Lesbian and a nymphomaniac! Although many learned men and women, educated and trained in the fields of sexual intercourse, say this is an impossibility, I am a living refutation of this summation. But I shah not dwell on these points, but shall continue in my narrative.
Thus I lay in naked girlishness, beside my heavy-set slumbering Count, my veil still unbroken-and lusting to be shattered! My hand continued playing gently with my Count's cock. I liked the round and hot feel of it against my palm. Its length sent wild happiness into my soul, for soon I would be absorbing this length as a woman should-up her cunt and with her hips working under her man, her cunt's lips opening and closing, pulling from him the sweet white substance that creates life in a female's throbbing womb!
I longed to shake him awake, to have him crawl over onto me, his prick dragging hard and bony, across my belly. I wanted him to get astraddle me, and poke and poke until he found my heavenly portal! I lusted to feel his cock slide between the lips of my puche, penetrate my veil, move on into my vagina-there to push and pull, move up and down, and send my ovaries flooding its knob in gushes of white semen!
Unconsciously, I lay on my side, one leg sneaking up over his hips, my hips pushing close to his cock, which I still held in my hand. He had the divine smell of the healthy human male: the strong smell of fine tobaccos, of shaving soap, the healthy perfume of a clean body. This wafted into my nostrils and fired my blood to even greater and faster circulation!
I put his cock flat against his belly. With our hips in an even line, his knob ended just below my navel. Thrills pounded me; his cock would go that far into me! And I would be sure to raise my legs high to present him my ass in flatness; therefore, his prick could enter me to the roots!
I straightened his prick, moving my hips back slightly. He stirred in his sleep, lips working slightly, a faint mumbling coming deep from his throat. I rubbed the knob against my pubic hair. I looked at his eyes. His heavenly orbs were open; he regarded me steadily. I looked at him, and he smiled.
"You really do want the prick, huh, my beloved?"
I panted something indistinguishable! My sinews, my muscles, my belly, my entire body was aflame, demanding what my hand held! "I was too bold, my lord," I said huskily. "I should have allowed you to slumber on, my love. But I need you-and you'll never know how bad, my Count!"
"The hot blood of youth," he said slowly. "You have many good years of fucking ahead of you, my love. But I understand, my dear."
He kicked back the silken covers; we lay in Edenlike nakedness. I had expected him to immediately mount me and deliver to my womb his pulsing seed, but he had other plans and I, being a woman, had to go along with them, although my very soul cried out in sexual passion!
Gently, he pushed me down on my back. His lips hovered over mine; I felt his hot breath. His eyes were but inches away. I saw them rather clearly despite the room's darkness. He was thoroughly awakened. Dancing lights skipped across his dark pupils, giving his lovely eyes added fire and luster! Slowly, gently, his lips came down; they brushed mine; mine arched upward to meet his-and we kissed in loving sweetness, his tongue meeting mine in damp dueling!
His tongue loved mine, sought the cavity of my warm mouth. His tongue played along my teeth, driving gasps of pure delight from my lips. And then I became aware of something: one of his hands tripped down my belly, slow and steady, seeking for my pubic hair, working its way toward my pulsing cunt!
My belly heaved beneath the soft touch of his magic fingers. He lay over my left teat, weight hardly indenting it-the breast was so young, so hard! My other breast stood free, its nipple jutting and strong. My lips clung to his as if loath to ever let them go!
His mouth left mine slowly, our lips clinging in dampness. His tongue deserted my mouth, moved down my chin, and I raised my head slightly, hair rustling against the silken pillow as his tongue laved my throat, continued on down to my breasts, and my heart beat in feral wildness, my skin became damp with a fine moisture. His tongue moved, here, there, darted, laved, sometimes broad, sometimes meeting my skin with its edge-and then he had climbed my right breast and his mouth encradled my pounding nipple!
There is no way of describing the effect of a man's sucking lips on a female's nipple! The dictionaries do not include enough words! There is, though, only one spot as responsive on the female body: that is the top of the cunt, where the sexual nerves meet in happy union, where a man's prick tickles and drives a female-again and again-to beautiful sexual ejaculation!
His tongue played around the base of my nipple, and unconsciously my hips began a womanly movement-first up, then a twist, then down-and then to repeat the process. I realized his finger had reached the apex of my cunt. His finger played there, seeking entrance; I spread myself wide, and his finger slipped into my puche and, immediately, touched the nerves' ends.
I twisted in passion. My ovaries broke into expression immediately, sending juices cascading into my womb! Bliss surged through me, doubled now because my Count had, somehow, taken both of my nipples simultaneously into his damp mouth, cupping them both in his free hand!
His lips clung, pushed, loved; his finger probed, very cautiously, very carefully, and between the two, my body soared to unlimited heights. Carefully, his finger circled the outer limits of my virginal veil; this he would break, of course, with his cock. And the sooner his prick barged through it and shattered it, the happier I would be! I prayed, Soon, soon, soon, my lord! I writhed in pain and happiness!
I felt my fluids fine the lips of my cunt. I felt his forefinger move these fluids, dampening my cunt for his entrance. My breath came in short, gasping sounds; these sounds seemed beating down from a great distance, part of another world. And then, I felt his knee nudge my thigh. He was preparing to mount me.
Gladly, willingly, my rounded feminine thigh moved under his bony, masculine knee. Now one knee was between my legs! I felt his long prick drag across my belly, move into the top of my pubic hair. His cock was bone-hard and bigger, I thought, than when I had played with it and, inside me, sang a little song, get bigger, cock, get bigger, cock, get bigger!
His other knee touched me, hard and strong; again, my thigh moved under the knee. I felt his skin, hot and smooth; then, both knees were between my legs. He took my ankles. His mouth left my nipples, and my nipples stood upright as though begging for more loving.
He knelt on his knees. He raised my legs high and spread them apart, his eyes riveted on my puche. He gazed down at my cunt in fond admiration. "So small, so virginal, so begging for a man," his lips trembled. "Well, little girl, soon a man shall have himself in you... and you'll be a girl no longer!"
His eyes adored my cunt. I felt the fluids along the lips of my puche, and my puche moved, begging for his prick! I prayed he would immediately impale me to his testicles; instead, he seemed to find enjoyment in anticipating the sweetness that lay ahead... and he took his time!
He deliberately teased me!
He braced his body on his outstretched arms, his hairy chest tickling my surging nipples, and more fire lanced through my sinews! I felt his cock touch my cunt; my flesh thrilled-the first time a man's cock had brushed my puche!
I scooched down my hips, hoping to entrap his prick. He was too wise. He moved his prick up, resting it in my pubic hair; my cunt lusted!
Grinning, he moved his hips back and forth, dragging the knob of his cock through my pubic hair sidewise! I wanted to hit him, beat him, bite him, but I knew that, if I did one of these things, he would take his body from mine and stalk away to another bed... and another female! He had more women than any one man needed. Only because of his superior sexual powers did he keep them in his harem!
So I held my temper behind clenched white lips, my eyes closed, my fists knotted at my sides. Still, his cock moved, dragged; it went down, tickled the top of my puche; against my will, my ovaries again jetted forth! It seemed to me that he dragged his prick back and forth for years; actually, of course, it was only a minute or so-but such was my penned-up passion!
Finally he said, "Take my cock, darling."
My right hand instantly shot down, and, within a clock-tick, had his prick encased. His prick was hot and was like a small hose in my grappling fingers. I held his cock and waited, breathing suspended.
"Put my prick just a little into your cunt, darling... "
I moved my rear slightly; his cock tickled my puche! My heart was wild; soon he would sex me! I remembered the little mare opening and closing her cunt and, when the stallion's prick hit her puche, she opened her red slot and absorbed him in eye-rolling glee! I would do the same to my wonderful Count Ernesto del Valle!
My cunt opened; his knob slowly entered. It filled my puche completely, for I was then still young, still tights-and unfucked! I wondered, for one blind terrible moment: Am I woman enough to take him completely, to the bag?
Through my mind flashed the vision of my father's cock entering my mother's cunt. My mother took his easily; he didn't have enough for her! But my father owned but an iota of the length and breadth of prick my Count owned! My heart sang. I had a feeling that, if I could take the Count successfully, I could take any man living-for my Count's cock was that long and huge! Such is a female's pride!
He came down on me, weight balanced on my pointed breasts, his prick still lingering, knob big, in the portal of my womanhood. His hands went down my back; obligingly, I lifted my rump, imitating my mother. His fingers spread, cupped my rounded buttocks; he was strong, and his fingers kneaded, spreading my crack. Instinctively, my legs went still further back, my thighs encasing his body, now sweaty and smelling of fine, manly flavor!
His hard fingers spread my crack more and lifted my rump higher. Now his prick entered to the knob. A million lights flashed before my closed eyes; my very body trembled and whimpered. Slowly, surely, his cock came forward; then, it gently touched the middle of my taut maidenhead.
His prick retreated a trifle. It moved around the edges of my tight hymen, and played and nudged; his head lay next to mine now, and we were the same height. I thrilled, my hips wanted to move; I held them, for to move I might lose his knob. I felt his body tremble. His words were husky and hot in my anxious ear.
"Are you ready to leave girlhood behind, my dear Alicia?"
"Yes, yes!" I panted. "Now, my Count, now!"
For his prick had moved back to the center of my membrane. He pushed slightly; I felt the membrane move in. One push of his hips, of his prick- and the veil would part, sending his prick jamming into my hot and damp vagina!
Time stood still. No, time ceased to exist! The entire world hung in red suspension. The moment I had long sought was now at hand. His body was hard, poised; mine receptive, also poised. And there was his prick-big and solid, pushing against my hymen, making it sag inward-and the glorious moment had finally come!
Again, he teasingly asked. "Now, darling, now?"
"Count... now... please!"
I never got to complete my gasped sentence; his cock saw to that. He lunged directly forward. His rigid cock hesitated, bent slightly, for so strong was my hymen; a lancing pain shot through me, delicious and lovely. I bit my lips. My hymen held but momentarily, as though protesting against my losing my girlhood; then it broke, and his prick shot into my vagina!
The sharp pain left as quickly as it had come! His knob hammered into my vagina, throbbing and pushing, pulling back and sinking deep. Pride was mine. I took him to the bag. I felt his testicles brush the lips of my cunt. I also felt a little warmth run down my leg. That, I knew, would be blood, but it would not flow long.
I dug my heels into the bed, making solid anchorage. Out of the unremembered past of humanity came the thought that my hips should rotate, fall and lift; I should fuck my man! My hips began doing this.
