The Altar of Venus: The Classic of Victorian Erotica
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Category: Erotica/Classic Erotica
Description: Victorian Erotica
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: June 2008
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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [275 KB]
Reading time: 174-244 min.
Children! Are they the same the world over--does sexual precocity break out amongst them in certain localities at certain periods, something like an epidemic of measles from which few are immune, while in other places and at other times, they escape unscathed? Certain it is that my own childhood was lived in an atmosphere redolent with sexuality and this despite the fact that my home environment was the best. My parents, indeed, held to the most Puritanical notions and doubtless would have been literally dumbfounded with horror had they ever gotten the slightest hint as to what was taking place almost under their very noses.
Either their own lives had matured under conditions quite different from mine or the passing years had obliterated all remembrance of juvenile deviltry, for assuredly no suspicion as to what was transpiring about them, almost, as I have suggested, close enough to be smelled, ever arose to preoccupy their well-ordered lives during my childhood days.
Confidences exchanged in later years with adult friends indicate that while many went through experiences similar to mine, the lives of others were singularly barren of juvenile romance or precocity. To the lips of the former, therefore, my stories may bring a smile as old memories stir, and they are carried back over the highway of years by the narration of some incident which had a counterpart in their own lives, and to the latter, a sigh of regret at something missed in life.
I do not propose to fill up space with the narration of incidents other than those in which some curious, unique or laughable element justifies their telling. With this brief prelude, I begin my story.
I was born in the year 1900. My birthplace, an English city, with some thirty thousand population. My parents, though not rich, were moderately well off and we lived in the comfortable fashion of the middle class English family. I was an only child and as such was humored to a certain extent, but I was also ruled with disciplinarian firmness, for my father, a grave, silent man, was quick enough to take note of juvenile insubordination, and as quick to chastise it. I held him in great respect, with which was mingled a certain degree of awe.
I place the age at which I experienced my first sexual excitation definitely identified with a female at somewhere between five and six. I say definitely identified with a female because I had observed a periodic hardening and expansion of that curious little appendage that hung between my legs, which phenomenon generally occurred in the early morning, or when I was being bathed. More than once I had been on the point of asking my mother for an explanation of its peculiar conduct, but some instinctive reticence always sealed my lips just as the question was mentally formulated. Certainly, up until almost my eighth year I was entirely unaware of the differences between the sexes and blissfully ignorant of all things pertaining thereto. But about the time I was six years old the association of a female was for the first time linked up with erotic sensations. It was of a rather insignificant nature and transpired under the following circumstances: For a year or more my mother, failing in health, had been confined to her room. There was in the domestic employ, an elderly woman who acted in the capacity of general housekeeper, and amongst whose varied and multiple obligations devolved that of watching over and endeavoring to keep me out of mischief. When I was about six years old, she retired from our service and in her place came a maid of seventeen or eighteen. Her appearance was attractive, her manner genial, and I soon developed a strong liking for her.
This girl had been duly authorized to punish me for disobedience, or other infractions of the household piece, corporal punishment being the prescribed remedy. But she was a good-natured, kindhearted damsel and it wasn't until I had committed a particularly malevolent piece of mischief one day that she lost her temper momentarily, turned me across her knee, and gave me a paddling. The blows were not of sufficient severity to cause me any real discomfort, and something about the position in which she held me across her knees, or perhaps some dormant instinct awakened by the contact of her hand on my bottom, began to work on my sexual nerve centers and resulted in a muscular reaction similar to that which I had observed on other occasions already referred to. In addition, I now became aware of a decidedly pleasurable sensation which was stealing through my body, a sensation which seemed to be forming in and radiating from the regions about my groin. The condition I was in must have become apparent to her through the pressure of a hard little cock against her thigh for she abruptly discontinued the chastisement, and I perceived a smile on her lips as she stood me back on the floor.
From that time on I sought ways and means of securing repetitions of this pleasant punishment, and the obliging damsel, entering into the spirit of things, accommodated me generously. But the method first employed was improved upon. Subsequent spankings were not administered without first lowering or removing my trousers, and while the spanking was in progress the amiable girl held me in such a position that while one hand was dealing blows of just enough vim to warm my naked bottom, the other could be insinuated under my groin, and cupped my cock and testicles. The soft pressure and contact of her hand upon these organs caused me such exquisite tremors as to motivate constant efforts on my part to provide her with pretexts, which I instinctively sensed to be necessary, for more and better spankings.
Now, it might reasonably have been expected that these little incursions into the realms of concupiscence would have paved the way to others of more advanced nature. But such was not the case; she never ventured to extend the simple repertoire nor did it ever occur to me to so much as wonder what she might have between her own legs. For upward of a year the spankings continued and then, much to my regret, she took her departure from our midst. And though it concerned me not the slightest at the time, I often speculated in the years as to precisely what there had been for her in all this and what pleasure she could have derived from the performance. Possibly the mere handling and fingering of my small but eminently masculine attributes in their state of sexual excitation reacted upon her own sensibilities, provoking a species of reciprocal echo. At any rate, I remember her with the kindliest feelings of appreciation.
I was seven years old when I made an important discovery. In the yard which surrounded our home were a number of trees. Among them was one of the eucalyptus variety, slim and straight as an arrow. Some six or seven inches in diameter at the base, its verdant bark as smooth as silk and not a branch or twig to mar its lissome symmetry for thirty or forty feet above the ground. There was something distinctly feminine about this young tree. Perhaps it was the smooth, beautiful bark and its slender gracefulness which set it apart in vivid contrast with its gnarled and rugged companions.
One afternoon, having nothing better to do, I endeavored to climb this tree by the "shinning" process. As you may not know just what the term means I will explain that, having no limbs or protuberances within reach which would provide footholds, the only way to climb such a tree was to wrap one's arms and legs tightly about the trunk, and by virtue of much wriggling and squirming, work one's way upward inch by inch. I had succeeded in hunching myself upward a short distance in this fashion when I began to feel again that delicious tremor which the hand of our erstwhile maid had formerly provoked. It was being produced by the friction and rubbing of my cock against the tree. When I realized this I clamped my legs tighter and wriggled, the more pronounced became that teasingly, pleasant sensation. I redoubled my efforts, and abruptly something seemed to burst down there inside, and as it burst, a wave of delicious sensations was radiated through my body from head to foot. I had experienced my first orgasm. Half dazed, forgetting that I was at some elevation, I relaxed my grip on the tree, and half slid, half fell to the ground, where for some moments I lay in a state of amazed wonder. When my wits returned, I essayed another climb, but the nice feeling refuse to repeat itself. Another effort the next day was more successful and, needless to state, that tree was for some time hence the object of my most fervent adoration. So I may say with all truthfulness that my first sweetheart was a slender young tree. I remained faithful to this love until in the due course of time, I fount that the nice feeling could be reproduced in a far simpler and much less arduous manner, namely, a little manual manipulation, and then the tree went into discard.
At nine I was in my second year of school and was being initiated (in theory) in the mechanism of love by well-informed young companions. An intriguing word of four letters was being constantly brought to my attention as it appeared mysteriously chalked on the walls of toilets, sometimes in more public places. The little girls snickered, giggled, or blushed at covertly whispered words, or signs and motions. Or with simulated indignation threatened to "tell the teacher." I knew now that these little girls had something between their legs entirely different from what boys had; something in the nature of an opening, provided for the express purpose of having a boy's cock inserted therein, and that when so inserted both parties to the transaction enjoyed ineffable delights. And my heart hungered for practical demonstrations. But, alas, I was not of a bold and forward disposition, and could not bolster up my courage to the point of asking a girl to "do it" with me, the proper formula, according to my more venturesome comrades. And so, I had to content myself with listening to their tales of conquests, while my heart was consumed with envy. I would have blushed with shame to have been obliged to confess it, but up to this period I had never so much as glimpsed a single instance that mysterious region between a little girl's legs. True, they played and disported themselves at times with careless abandon, in which short dresses were well elevated, but they invariably had on panties which effectually concealed the salient point of interest. With what enthusiasm would I have hailed a law prohibiting the use of panties by girls.
There was one for whom I eventually came to feel an overwhelming passion, but my love was mixed with awe; I guarded it a close secret, nor ventured by word or act to convey any indication of its existence to the object of my adoration. Her name was Flora. A golden haired little fairy who wore her hair in long curls. Flora's age was about that of my own or possibly a little younger. I watched and admired from the distance, and was filled with rage when one boy, a coarse, displeasing fellow in my opinion, calmly observed that he had "done it" with Flora. It was a lie, I felt certain, a bit of bragging designed to awaken the envy of his hearers, but I hated him cordially from that moment and on the slightest provocation would have picked a fight with him.
I passed my waking hours in daydreams of Flora. Before falling to sleep at night I imagined delicious situations in which she and I were thrown together under circumstances which forced us to sleep together. We were marooned on tropical islands, or lost in the wilds. In fancy I hugged her naked body to mine, touched and caressed her limbs, fondled her to my heart's content and delighted my eyes with the vision of her nude loveliness, to fall asleep at last with my cock sticking straight up while Flora danced through fantastic dreams.
'Tis said that all things come to him who waits. And one Saturday afternoon I passed by a vacant lot in which a group of youngsters from my neighborhood were playing. Flora was amongst them. Somebody shouted my name, calling me to join them. Not having business elsewhere of sufficient importance to offset the pleasure of being near Flora, I immediately accepted the invitation. Little did I suspect it at the moment, but wonderful things were in store for me that sunny June afternoon. It is thus that Fortune favors us when we least expect her grace.
After a while the charming little mistress of my heart approached me, and with a friendly smile on her face, whispered:
"Let's you and I run off somewhere and play by ourselves."
Had the sun suddenly turned green I could not have been more surprised. It was the first time she had ever addressed me except in the most impersonal manner. Furthermore, the secretive way in which she had communicated the little message, the furtive look she cast toward the others as she whispered it, were pregnant with romance. My heart leaped with pleasure as I nodded my conformity.
"All right! Come on!" she answered in a low voice, and together we slipped away unobserved by the rest. When we had rounded a corner, and were out of their range of vision, she again placed her lips close to my ear and shielding her mouth with her hand whispered:
"Let's go to the park and play married."
The surprise I had received when she first addressed me was nothing compared to the electrical effect of this second communication, for the expression "playing married" had a very concise, and unmistakable meaning in our little world--a meaning which admitted of no misinterpretations.
The park she referred to was an extension of land which traversed the northern section of the city and which was destined some day to become a public part, having been purchased by the municipality for this purpose. At this time however, it was nothing but an uncultivated tract of ground, overgrown with weeds and wild shrubbery. Through the center of this terrain ran a deep gulch in which water had sometime flowed. It was dry now and there were occasional deposits of clean, white sand in the boulder-strewn bed. Its precipitate banks were overhung with vines and wild vegetation.
This so-called park enjoyed a peculiar reputation among the young folks. It was referred to with sly looks and smiles, for it was supposed to be the scene of most of the amorous adventures which took place between juvenile gallants and accommodating misses. Certainly, the secluded nooks and refuges available amidst its verdant shrubbery lent themselves admirably to the game of "playing married."
So off we trotted and five minutes later, breathless and flushed, we were at the outskirts of the park described. We slipped under a wire fence, and were soon scurrying through the underbrush toward the gulch itself. When we reached it we followed its bank until we found a place which afforded a safe descent, and then, jumping, slipping and sliding we reached the bottom.
From the beginning Flora had taken the initiative. I accepted her leadership, and acquiesced to each suggestion she offered. I was still tongue-tied with timidity. Truly, the female of the species is, at certain ages, more venturesome than the male! After a short exploration we found a cozy little nook almost entirely concealed behind a curtain of green foliage, and ideal little love nest requiring no alterations except the clearing away from its sandy floor of an accumulation of rubbish and dead leaves. We set to work and quickly cleaned out this refuse until nothing remained but clean sand. Satisfied with the results of our labors, we sat down to rest for a moment. The position in which Flora was sitting afforded a generous glimpse of her tight little panties and between this and other anticipated revelations my nerves were tingling with excitement. After a short silence, during which she eyed me expectantly, she suddenly arose and exclaimed:
"Well, if we're going to play married, you have to take your pants off! I'll take mine off!"
And suiting action to word, with perfect sangfroid and without the least embarrassment she raised her dress and unfastened the garment to which she had referred. It slid down her legs and was kicked off to one side. I got up and began fumbling with my own buttons. My fingers were numb and torpid and it was an interminable length of time before I got my trousers and underwear off. And now I became aware of an embarrassing condition which further contributed to my confusion. One which two or three subsequent occasions in my life made itself apparent much to my mortification and disgust.
Something which on countless occasions had risen valiantly at the mere thought of seeing Flora naked and which had been standing up manfully while we were arranging the nest, now failed me treacherously and was hanging with its head down in the most listless and dejected attitude possible to imagine. Flora gazed at it a moment and exclaimed:
"Why, your dickie isn't stiff yet!"
There was no denying this allegation, and I remained silent. However, she evidently regarded the condition as amenable to correction, and with worldly wisdom, added:
"Look at me between the legs and it will get stiff!"
So saying, she lifted her dress and separating her thighs, arched her body outward to that her little cleft was exposed in all its juvenile nudity.
What were my emotions, as I stared wide-eyed at that tiny portion of feminine anatomy which had so long intrigued my imagination, and on which I was now gazing for the first time in actually? Too mixed and confused to render description possible. My fascinated eyes perceived that what I had supposed to be something in the nature of a hole or a round opening was instead a narrow cleft--a cleft resembling a tiny valley between two plump little hills. A valley that, starting from a little dimple, coursed downward, and curved inward between her thighs. It was like the letter "V" with a straight line down through the center! Surely a boy's thing couldn't be pushed very far into that tight, narrow little place. Probably it was only supposed to be rubbed along the length of the valley, between the fat little hills.
Meanwhile the efficacy of Flora's homeopathic remedy for impotency was making itself apparent, and my cock began to straighten out. It lifted itself upward with little jerks, and before many moments it was standing out horizontally, as form and hard as it had been before.
As soon as she was satisfied that its condition was favorable to her purpose, a condition she verified by extending her hand and testing its rigidity with her fingers, she twisted her dress around her waist, and lay down on the sand. I knew enough to place myself on my knees between her open legs. Inclining my body over hers, I managed to get the head of my cock between the plump little lips and commenced to bob up and down, pressing and rubbing against her.
She stood this curious treatment for a few moments and then pushing me away from her, she sat up.
"Silly! That isn't the way! You have to make it go in!"
Without waiting for apologies, she extended her body out again on the sand, took my cock between her fingers, got the tip of it inserted and started in the right direction, and with a sudden upward heave secured its complete intromission. Guided by instinct I raised and lowered my hips in unison with the undulating movements she imparted on her own. The friction of her hot little genitals and their moist embrace as they clung to and sucked at my cock brought the natural reaction, and as the preliminary tremors of ecstasy began to make themselves felt, I accelerated my movements. And with the acceleration the pleasure intensified. Frantically I worked my cock in and out of the tight, wet little lips which clung on it so caressingly.
Ah, if I could live them over again I would draw those happy moments into hours of delight, extending and prolonging each precious, celestial second into indefinite lengths. But alas, I knew nothing of the principles of conserving energy or scientific methods of prolonging to its utmost the all too fleeting pleasure and thought only to reach culmination, divine instant as quickly as possible.
Just as I was trembling on the verge of a sterile but sweet deliciously sweet orgasm, her legs flashed up and engaged themselves tightly about my body, and from her lips emerged a series of exclamations which testified to the measure of her own sensations. She clung to me for a moment then her arms relaxed their grip about my neck. She disengaged her legs from my body and lay back upon the sand. There was an expression on her face, as she eyed me covertly from under half-closed lids, which denoted something of surprise as well as satisfaction.
We got up a few minutes later and I took a final look at the little bisected "V" at the base of her stomach which had provided me with what would probably be the tenderest memory of my life. In silence she replaced her panties, smoothed out her clothes and stood waiting for me to finish dressing. Then, when we were ready to leave, she snuggled her hand into mine, glanced shyly at me and murmured:
"Gee, it felt nice, didn't it?"
That night as I lay awake reviewing the momentous event I suddenly remembered that despite all the castles in the air I had built up in my imagination around just such an occasion, I had not kissed her when the opportunity was at hand. No, not a single kiss or caress of any nature aside from the copulation itself. Nor had I scarcely more than touched with my fingers that seductive and mysterious little cleft. And part of my complacency changed to chagrin as I realized all I had missed by my silly bashfulness.
From that day on my character began to undergo a change. My shyness and reticence fell away and while at certain times it returned to plague me temporarily, I was generally bold and venturesome whenever I had the slightest reason to think I knew my ground.
My next rendezvous with Flora was effected through my own initiative. Our relative positions changed and it was I who assumed leadership. Her manner toward me was respectful, submissive, as if in a certain sense she belonged to me, and this time I put into execution every fancy my inexperienced mind could conceive. I petted, caressed, fondled and handled her to my heart's content. I made a close ocular examination of the mysterious domain between her plump, white little thighs. I even ventured to explore the interior depths with an inquisitive finger. To all this manipulation she submitted patiently, apparently gratified at my interest. When I had looked, handled and caressed my fill, I placed myself between her outstretched thighs, and without any false movements this time, got my cock into her, and handled it to such good effect that were both soon gasping with pleasure.
After this I progressed rapidly. Not to be outdone by other boys who boasted of many conquests I began to make advances to other little girls, and was amazed at the facility with which I obtained their complaisance. Some indeed repulsed me--there were girls like that--foolish little things, who wouldn't know what was good for them--but there were plenty of others, and so I mentally consigned the obstinate ones to the dark regions, and devoted my attentions to those who were amenable to reason. Flora herself presented a little friend who blushingly confessed to desire to "try it" once. To my mystification, an intact hymen in this instance obstructed a successful demonstration and in my ignorance of feminine physiology I attributed the failure to a sad defect in her little body--she had been born without a hole! I had yet to learn that maidenheads were at a premium.
A boy friend confided that he had "done it" with his sister, aged twelve.
"We got playing up in the hay loft in the barn and I got down and looked at her cunny. Then she wanted to look at mine, and so I let her. Then I told her she had to do it with me. She didn't want to, but I made her. Now we sneak up there and do it lots."
The girl in question was such a sedate quiet miss that I was astonished and really doubted the truth of the story, but it aroused my lubricity and I asked him if he would get her to do it with me too. He said he would, and his efforts as an "ambassador" of love in my behalf were so successful that an agreement was promptly arrived at. Upon an alter of sweet scented hay, under the dusty rafters of the old barn, the blushing, but willing victim of this libidinous sacrifice to Venus was offered up. Sans panties, and with dress up she permitted me to take my place between her outstretched legs and drain the cup of love while her young brother looked on complacently. When I had finished he quickly took my place, and without undue embarrassment at my presence, inserted his small cigar shaped cock in her and gave her a second work out.
The next day she communicated to me by means of a note surreptitiously slipped into my hand at recess that if I would wait for her after school at a certain place we could "do that again that we did yesterday."
Another little youngster of nine or ten, a veritable Messalina in the budding, conceded her favors to four of us en masse. In the basement of the deserted schoolhouse, to which we gained access through an unlatched window one Saturday afternoon, she stripped off both panties and dress for our edification, and one by one, untroubled by an excess of spectators or hygienic considerations, we took turns in prodding her with our small but rigid little cocks.
According to orthodox theories these little girls were all on the road to inevitable ruin if not already there. Yet to my personal knowledge with respect to several of them, they grew up, married and lived normal and respectable lives. One indeed who had been particularly liberal with her favors--I doubt if there was a boy in the entire neighborhood for whom she hadn't removed her panties at least once--I met some sixteen years later. At first I failed to recognize in the modest, well-dressed young matron and mother of a beautiful child of two, a former youthful partner in fornication. But something stirred in my and without stopping to think that perhaps she would prefer not to have the past recalled, I asked her if she hadn't lived in such and such a neighborhood in her childhood. She nodded assent. "Don't you remember me?" I asked impulsively, repeating my first name. "No, I don't recall you!" she replied. "Why I--" and then I saw that her cheeks were blazing. Belatedly, my own face burning with the sudden comprehension of my tactless interrogation, I changed the subject.
At thirteen I was growing rapidly, was quite tall and well developed, this also contrary to certain other accepted theories, for according to all authorities on the subject, such excesses as I was indulging in should irrevocably have undermined my health. For in addition to fucking every little girl I could wheedle into removing her panties I also masturbated myself with more or less frequency. One day I ran across an old medical book containing drawings and diagrams of the human form in various stages of revelation. The book intrigued my prurient interest, and while searching it for more illustrations, I came upon a chapter on masturbation which, hastily read, chilled the blood in my veins and sent me flying to the mirror to see how many of the visible signs, so luridly described, were visible in my own countenance. According to this book, boys who practiced the destructive vice were recognizable under a cursory examination. Their eyes were dull and lifeless, the lids discolored and swollen. Their faces were sallow, and even their self-conscious and nervous demeanor was sufficient to betray their guilty secret. All unfortunate boys addicted to this vicious habit were doomed. Insanity, consumption, premature old age were all lurking close at their elbows. A rapid calculation as I rushed to a mirror told me that I had been at it for four years or more, and it was indeed with a sigh of relief that I scrutinized the reflection which gazed back into my anxious eyes. No signs of senile decay were visible. My complexion was clear and rosy, my eyes bright and limpid. And I certainly was not undersized, for my physique was such that I was generally taken to be at least two years older than I really was. A prolonged examination dissipated my fright, but I had received a shock, and thereafter I indulged in masturbation only on special occasions. As the book said nothing about anything disagreeable happening to boys who fucked little girls, I assumed that no evil consequences need be anticipated from this direction.
At fourteen, I was associating with boys several years older than myself, some of whom had had experiences with adult females, some even with prostitutes. In the light of their revelations, my own little adventures seemed insipid and infantile. I learned of mysterious houses where one could go and have his choice from among a number of luscious females on display in the nude. There was a certain section of the city allotted to their special occupancy, whole blocks of buildings devoted to the traffic of commercialized sexual pleasures.
Grown women! It must feel much nicer to do it with an adult woman than with an immature, inexperienced little girl! The thought grew, obsessed me, set my fancy on fire. And still I dared not think of trying to enter one of these palaces of delight, for though I knew where they were located, boys under eighteen were not supposed to be admitted. I could pass for sixteen easy enough, but hardly eighteen.
One of my friends became the envied owner of a packet of pictures of nude women. They were passed from hand to hand. I persuaded the fortunate owner to let me take them home with me overnight. I wanted to enjoy them in private, at leisure, in the seclusion of my room. One by one I examined them with my cock sticking up and threatening to go off by mere force of mental stimulation. What took my eye was the fascinating triangle of curly hair which stood out so prominently on the pubic regions of the models. None of the little girls I had dealings with had hair down there, or at least more than a soft, incipient, almost imperceptible growth. The thick, curly profusion which adorned the sexual regions of the ladies in these pictures held my eyes in fascination. What an exquisite sensation those crisp curls would provoke as they tickled one's cock and testicles. And their breasts, full, round and luscious, projecting outward like snowy hills! Not a girl I knew had anything to compare with what these pictures revealed.
As I studied them, my hand unconsciously dropped downward over an erected cock which was fairly bristling with fury. And, unable to resist the urge, I jacked myself off with rapid strokes. As orgasm took place several jets of milky fluid spurted outward. My testicles were secreting semen and I now constituted a first-class risk to damsels of twelve and upward who were indiscreet enough to let me squirt that hot starchy looking stuff between their legs. When the last drop had been squeezed out, I sighed, hid the pictures under my mattress, and turned out the light.
I wanted a mature woman, one who had hair around her cunt and big breasts and I wanted her with all the ardor of my being. But there was no woman I dared approach. Then, as unexpectedly as golden haired little Flora had entered my life, Fortune led me, or I might say, actually shoved me, right into circumstances which culminated in the fulfillment of my ambition.
Among my acquaintances was a boy by the name of Gerald. Having interests in common we formed a species of alliance although he was somewhat younger than I. He invited me to his home and thus I came to meet his mother. One look and I was head over heels in love. She was everything imaginable in feminine pulchritude. Around thirty but still conserving a youthful beauty which might well have been the envy of women much younger, small and petite of figure, with a pair of bubbies which projected her blouse out in front in the most amazing manner, she fairly made my mouth water. I could hardly take my eyes off of her during the time I was in the house. She was a widow, Gerald's father having died years previously. Evidently she had married at a very tender age. It was apparent that Gerald was the pride of her life, and any of Gerald's friends were treated with royal consideration. My visits became frequent, and I was invariably regaled with cake, mince pie, plum pudding or some other gastric delicacy. But it wasn't the cake, or the pie, or the pudding which drew me. I came to look, and long, and sigh. Presumably my passion was unsuspected, but at times she seemed to be eyeing me with a quizzical, understanding expression on her face.
One afternoon Gerald and I decided to entertain ourselves by making and flying a pair of kites. We secured paper, twine, sticks, and other essentials. While engaged in this for once entirely innocent occupation, Gerald's mother brought us two big glasses of lemonade, and some chocolate cake. She was going to town, she said, and was serving us this luncheon so we wouldn't get hungry meanwhile.
Gerald and I finished out kites, and carried them to the square six blocks distant. He soon had his floating in the sky, but mine, solicitously guided by the finger of Destiny tried to argue the right of way with an electric light wire and before I could extricate it, it was badly damaged. Repairs necessitated both paper and paste, so while Gerald remained, I returned with the intention of getting these essentials from his mother. When I ascended the front steps, and rang the bell, there was no response. As I waited, I suddenly remembered that she had, presumably, gone to town. In a tentative way, I tried the door and found somewhat to my surprise that it was unlocked. Knowing exactly where to find the things I desired, I opened the door and walked in. From the parlor a hall led to the kitchen and in this direction I turned my steps. I was exactly half way through this long hall, when the door to the bath room, just ahead of me, swung open and Gerald's mother stepped out into the hall, fresh from the tub and stripped stark naked except for her hose and slippers.
It would have been difficult to say which of us was the most astounded. We both froze in our tracks gazing at each other, wordless with surprise. I opened my mouth to make some explanation, but a correct formula of apology to offer a lady under such circumstances was beyond me and I closed it again without having uttered a word. There seemed to be a haze in the air which partially obscured my sight and through it I perceived a black triangle which gradually resolved into a glossy silky profusion of tight little ringlets of hair, sharply outlined against a background of snowy whiteness. as this became fixed on my consciousness, something down the front of my trousers began to hoist itself upward. A low, strained voice broke the spell:
"He's down at Wellington Square with his kite."
The expansion in the front of my trousers had reached its maximum, causing a then shaped projection outward. I was still gazing through a sort of cloud, but it seemed to me that she was smiling faintly. The next thing I knew she was standing close in front of me, and had placed one of her hands on my shoulder. The other slipped down inside the waist band of my trousers. A bit of fumbling with my underclothing and soft cool fingers closed around my cock. They remained there for a moment and were withdrawn. I felt them tugging at the buttons on the front of my pants.
One, two, three, four little tugs, and like a jack-in-the-box released at the touch of a spring, my cock jumped out into the light of day as the clothing which had imprisoned it was loosened. Again soft fingers encircled it and with a forward movement of her hand the scarlet plum shaped head was exposed to view. The hand receded and it disappeared from view within its protecting shield. The movements were repeated a few times, sending little electric thrills chasing up and down my spine. And then a soft voice murmured in my ear:
"You've been hanging around here with this thing sticking up under your pants to tempt me for the last three months. Can you keep a secret?"
I nodded my head affirmatively.
"Well then run and slide the bolt on the front door before someone else comes walking in!"
My heart was pounding with excitement as I ran to obey. When I returned, she opened the door to her bedroom, and motioned for me to enter.
"Take off your clothes!"
I was still flushed with emotion, but I was recovering my composure, and as I stripped off my clothing, my eyes were devouring the delectable spectacle of her nudity. Pretty as she was dressed, she was a hundred times prettier naked. How different she looked from those flat-chested little girls with their small bottoms, their bodies, except in one single detail, little different from those of boys! Her full round hips and narrow waist, her maturely symmetrical legs and thighs, her breasts so big and white, with their luscious carmine nipples. Even as I looked, those luscious strawberry-like tips seemed to be changing in form. They were puffing out, taking on a deeper hue, projecting themselves forward seductively.
And, charm of charms, that fascinating profusion of dark ringlets of hair which formed as true a triangle at the base of her stomach as though drawn by rule and pen. Plainly visible under the inverted point of the triangle, could be seen the clean-cut incision of her sex as it curved gracefully inward between white, round thighs. Observing my trembling excitation and wide-eyed wonder, she broke into laughter, and throwing her arms about me began to kiss me, exclaiming:
"Haven't you ever seen a woman naked before, darling?"
"Yes ... I ... that is ... girls..." I answered, my voice trailing off in confusion.
"Girls?" she prompted. "What girls?"
"Why ... ah ... lots of them, girls in school!"
"School girls?" she repeated, in surprise. "What do you mean, darling? Girls don't take off their clothes at school, do they?"
"No, no! After school I meant, in the park."
"You surely don't mean they take off their clothes in places where boys can see them naked, do you?"
"Girls how old?"
This interrogation was making me uneasy, still I sensed the fact that I was safe in confiding in her. "Oh, all ages," I replied rather vaguely. "I did it with one girl that's past twelve."
"You did it! Are you trying to tell me that you've had intercourse with some of those little girls?"
"Sure, I have!" I answered disdainfully. "Lots and lots of them."
"But darling," she gasped, "I can't believe it! Little school girls are not even supposed to know about such things! Why good heavens, you couldn't make this go in a little girl without hurting her!"
"It doesn't hurt all of them!" I insisted, stubbornly. Which was true enough, for I hadn't in fact encountered many maidenheads.
"Well, it doesn't seem possible," she commented. Suspending for the moment the interrogation she led me to the bed, lay down upon it, and drew me over on top of her.
Soft fingers took possession of my cock, and guided it quickly to the entrance of the humid recess between he thighs. Now she placed her hands over the cheeks of my bottom. A firm pressure, a gentle movement of hips and thighs and the turgid emblem of my sex was within the portals and I felt the contact of thick crisp hair against my flesh. She undulated her hips with a gyratory movement and almost immediately that "nice feeling" began to generate itself around the principal point of contact and was radiated thence in delicious little waves throughout my body. I raised and lowered my hips in unison with her own movements.
All too quickly the humid warmth and suction vanquished my limited powers of resistance, and soon the spermatic liquid was being drawn from my testicles. As I moaned with pleasure the pressure of her hands on my bottom became more forceful and her movements more energetic. She gasped some unintelligible phrase, a convulsive shudder shook her body and ... it was over. I lay quietly with my weight upon her body until my heart ceased its excessive beating. Then raising myself, I withdrew my dripping cock from between her thighs. She gave it one look and springing hastily from the bed, exclaimed:
"My heavens! You're old enough to give me a baby, if I don't watch out!"
She ran into the bathroom and after a brief absence returned with a damp towel, with which she sponged me off. Assuming that my hour of triumph was over, I reached for my clothing but she detained me with a gesture and suggested that I lie down and rest a few minutes first. So willingly, enough, I lay back down on the bed again. She lay down by me, slipped an arm under my neck and drew my face over against one of her protruding pointed breasts. I pressed my cheek gratefully against the cool, smooth flesh.
"Now tell me about these girls," she insinuated softly. And bit by bit she drew from me the gist of my juvenile romances. These disclosures seemed to cause her the most genuine surprise. While we talked one of hands engaged itself with my cock. She slipped the foreskin back and forth, fingered and toyed with it. Between this tantalizing manipulation, the sight of her naked body, and the erotic effects of our conversation as she pressed me for intimate details of my conquests, it began to recover its dignity, extending itself perceptibly in length and breadth.
"Do all the boys in school do such things?" she asked, her fingers continuing their soft play over the head of my cock.
"Sure; they all do," I answered innocently.
"Then Gerald has been doing it with girls, too?"
"Gerald? Well ... I don't know about him!" I answered in confusion. She remained silent and recovering my composure I ventured to extend my tongue, and rather timidly caressed one of those luscious, red strawberries which was in tempting proximity to my lips. I felt a tremor pass over her body and encouraged, I took the whole strawberry in my mouth and sucked it avidly. Immediately her fingers tightened around my cock and she began to pump it vigorously. I became still more daring, and placed my hand down over the triangle of dark curls. And, after a momentary hesitation, I laid my finger on the warm, moist membranes of her cleft.
In the course of my education of sexual physiology, I had learned that in the upper extremity of the little valley, just like a sentinel on guard over the sacred precincts, was a little protuberance which had a predilection for being petted gently. It had the odd faculty of enlarging itself slightly when touched or caressed, its reaction in this respect being similar to that of the male organ.
Putting this knowledge into effect I located the highly sensitive little nerve, and with the tip of my finger agitated it softly. Under the light touch it responded by expanding and hardening. At this point she suddenly seized my hand, and laughing hysterically, removed it. She kissed me with real fervor and pressed her body closer to mine.
"Come on sweetheart, we'll do it once more!"
Disengaging herself from my arms she turned over on her back, and separating her thighs, drew me u upon her. Again my cock, now well restored to virile capabilities, was introduced into the temple of love. The encounter was swift and vigorous. I seconded her lively movements, and again those hot lips drained my testicles to the last drop. Shortly thereafter I was dressed, and ready to take my departure. As I stood near the door, she kissed me good-by, adding in an anxious whisper: "You won't ever, ever tell anyone, will you sweetheart?" Fervently assuring her that I never, never would, I took my leave.
At the front gate I met Gerald, who greeted me angrily.
"Where have you been all this time? Did you get the paste?"
"Paste?" I repeated, vaguely. "Paste? Why ... ah, no, there wasn't any!" and leaving him staring at me open-mouthed, I continued on up the street. Kite flying no longer interested me.
With the optimism of youth, I assumed that the romance so auspiciously begun, would be continued. But alas, I was doomed to disappointment. Whether the lady repented of her little indiscretion, or decided that I was too young to be trusted, I know not, but at any rate, never by word or sign did she encourage me to expect a repetition of the adventure, and eventually I comprehended that the chapter was closed.
During the year which followed I made a number of conquests among young girls of the neighborhood but do not recall any which were of special interest. It was not so easy now as it had been at first. Girls had to be won with courting, coaxing and artifice. They protested hypocritically at bold advances. They were afraid they would "get a baby." And how it happened that none actually did only heaven knows, for some of these young misses were close around the age of puberty, as was attested by the fine growth of silky hair on their little mounds, and their diminutive, budding breasts.
I found that successful dealings with them hinged mostly on coaxing them into some secluded place where there was no danger of intrusion or interruption. Once this was accomplished, a preliminary kissing and petting to get them "hot" followed up by the sudden insertion of a hand up under their skirts and panties was generally sufficient to get things started. There would be a few squeals and protests, but the tip of a skilled finger played over and around a magic spot generally vanquished the half-hearted resistance. The system was simplicity itself, but almost invariably successful.
One thirteen-year-old, who claimed to have learned the method by spying on her parents when she was supposed to be sleeping, permitted me to penetrate her but to my surprise, just as I reached orgasm, jerked away from me and seizing my cock with her hand pumped its contents out over her stomach. This proceeding she denominated by the expressive term "milking the cow," adding that it caused her a nice feeling when the warm stuff squirted out on her stomach.
With greater frequency now my thoughts were on those intriguingly mysterious houses so picturesquely described by older companions, where charming young ladies were at one's disposition for a modest consideration.
But it wasn't until I had passed my sixteenth birthday that I got up the courage to make the plunge. A sudden wave of boldness inspired the determination, and in order not to give it a chance to cool off, I decided to act immediately.
That night, nerves tingling with anticipation and excitement, I set out on foot for the red light district. Approaching an establishment selected entirely at random, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. I paused for a brief moment and then mustering up my courage, advanced toward an open door. Enveloped in an azure haze of smoke I saw a neatly furnished room in which were seated or moving about, a dozen girls, and several men. The girls were in varying stages of dress and undress. Some were garbed in chemise, high heeled slippers and hose only. Others had on diminutive silken skirts which hung about halfway to their knees. One or two were draped in vividly colored kimonos. Another, crossing the room at that moment with a tray of liquor glasses in her hands--an attractive damsel with a mass of copper colored tresses, and a skin as fair as a lily, was stark naked except for hose and slippers. Her beautiful and prominent breasts vibrated and trembled with her movements.
Quickly my eyes took in the scene, impressing upon my mind a composite picture of silk clad limbs, naked thighs, breasts, arms and a not displeasing array of faces. The girls were young, much younger than I had supposed they would be. As I stood motionless in the door taking in the novel sight, a sudden hush fell upon the assembly, and all eyes were turned on me. There was a momentary silence. Then a feminine voice exclaimed: "The stork has brought a baby for someone!"
A burst of laughter followed this cynicism and my cheeks began to burn. Then from among a group of girls seated on a sofa one arose, and came toward me, smiling: "Do you want a girl to take to a room?" she insinuated coaxingly.
I knew the patrons were supposed to select their own merchandise, but my nervousness and the embarrassment their risibility had provoked inspired me with a desire to get out of the range of all these curious eyes just as quickly as possible and I assented to her invitation with a nod of my head. She took my hand and conducted me down the long hall to her room. Once the door closed behind us and we were in privacy, some of my animation returned and I examined my companion with deep interest. She was a wholesome, sweet faced girl of eighteen or nineteen and her cordial, friendly treatment quickly put me at ease. The financial details of the transaction arranged, she stripped off her little silken chemise and while I was removing my own clothing, occupied herself with the preparation of a basin of warm water to which she added soap and a few drops of some fluid, probably of an antiseptic nature. As soon as I had disrobed she approached me and holding the basin, washed my cock in the soapy water. Under the touch of her soft fingers as she manipulated it in the warm fluid, it stiffened out valiantly.
As she bent over, her hair falling in glossy ringlets about white shoulders. Her pretty cone-shaped breasts vibrating with each movement, a sense of satisfaction and exhilaration swept over me and I placed my arms around her neck, drew her face up and kissed her with enthusiasm, almost causing her to drop the basin. Hastily she set it down and proceeded to dry me with a small towel. Then, after pirouetting about the room for a few moments, to tantalize me with the sight of her nakedness, she flung herself on the wide comfortable bed and invited me to join her.
I was soon lying between her round white thighs while her fingers started my cock in the right direction. Then in and out, with slow deliberate movements at first and faster and faster as the pleasant sensations increased in intensity, and finally, with hard furious thrusts as she drew from me the milky elixir of life. As it spurted forth, she clasped me more closely to her and gave expression to several passionate exclamations. I didn't know at the time that simulating orgasm is an art quickly acquired by these little vestals of love whose business it is to always "please" the customer.
After she had attended to certain hygienic requirements, she returned to the bed where she lay for a while exchanging confidences. Her name was Josephine. She assure me, greatly to my satisfaction, that I was much nicer (!) than most of he men who visited her, and extracted a promise that I could come back to see her, a promise which was wholeheartedly kept and I became real friends with Josephine.
Some of the other girls attempted to win me from Josephine but on observing that our relationship was firmly cemented they desisted. As a mater of fact, there were several I would have liked to "try out" but a spirit of loyalty to Josephine who was so good to me and the fear of hurting her feelings kept me faithful. Her affection for me was evidently quite sincere and she counseled me wisely in many things.
During the petting and teasing processes which generally preceded out expansions I discovered that she was partial to digital manipulations, or in brothel terms, "finger frigging." This condition was probably due to some abnormality; or possibly the too frequent copulations in a professional capacity had dulled the normal reaction. At any rate her emotions could not be completely aroused any other way and I think the fact that I was able to perceive this condition, and was considerate of it, inspired to some degree the affection she felt for me.
While gratifying her in this way I learned to subject and hold my own emotions in check for prolonged periods and this is an asset which cannot be too highly estimated. Not only does it sharpen the sensitory nerves, making them more responsive to the delayed orgasm but it also places one in a very advantageous position in respect to women. The pleasurable sensations which accompany ejaculation in the male are far more intense with the first orgasm than with a second or third. Apparently, the "pleasure capacity" of the masculine sexual organ is depleted or dulled greatly by the first ejaculation and does not respond with the same vigor to successive efforts unless there is considerable time between.
The unnatural life led by girls in houses of prostitution, submitting their bodies to sexual intercourse without regard to their personal inclinations, frequently with men abhorrent to them, tends to stultify and deaden their sensibilities. Josephine had not yet reached this stage. She was only two years older than I and as yet showed no signs of dissipation. Her clear, grey eyes and rosy cheeks sparkled with health, life and vim. But she didn't like the way men "did it"--on top, finished and off before it hardly began to feel good. She never really enjoyed herself except with me, she said!
One day when I came in I noticed some of the girls running in and out of the parlor, laughing and giggling about something the nature of which I was in ignorance. When Josephine and I were alone I questioned her as to the cause of the merriment. "Oh, it's that Swede who comes to see Marigold," she replied.
The man she referred to was, like myself, an afternoon visitor. I had seen him on several occasions sitting in the reception hall, waiting for Marigold, the object apparently of his undivided affections. He was a quiet, polite fellow, large of stature, always plainly but neatly dressed. How they had come to designate him as "the Swede" I don't know unless it was that his blond hair and Nordic accent someway suggested the nationality. As Josephine replied to my query, she too began to giggle and my curiosity was further aroused. "Well, what's so funny about it?" I insisted and as I spoke, there flashed over me the recollection of previous instances when, after the departure of this man I had observed smiling glances directed at Marigold--Marigold, the girl I had seen cross the room naked the memorable night of my initiation in sporting life--who was also blond and whose copper colored tresses and big breasts had always secretly fascinated me.
At first Josephine seemed disinclined to enter into explanations, but her reticence only augmented my curiosity and I persisted with the result that following novel facts came to light.
This man, despite his robust appearance, suffered from a lamentable physical defect. His cock was half than normal size, and incapable of attaining an erection of sufficient rigidity to penetrate a woman. The only way he could satisfy his passion was by sucking a girl and jacking himself off at the same time. For the privilege of sucking Marigold once a week he paid a generous fee. But this wasn't all of the story. These little devils had scratched away a bit of paint from one corner of a glass transom above a door connecting Marigold's room and were in the habit of entertaining themselves by watching while the sucking operation was being realized. "Does Marigold know this?" I asked, astounded.
"Sure, she knows it, but he doesn't. She doesn't care," replied Josephine. Instinctively I cast an apprehensive glance around our own room, to see whether there were any "scratched transoms" through which I had possibly been subjected to the scrutiny of curious eyes. Josephine read my thoughts and said smiling, "Don't worry, we don't do anything worth watching!"
Her revelations turned my thoughts to subjects I had hitherto not given much attention to. I had heard of "Frenching" of course, but regarded the act as being of rare occurrence. Yet here it was going on right at my elbow and seeming to excite nothing but amusement among those who were aware of it. Josephine noted my absorption, and asked curiously:
"Do you want to look?"
I hesitated but a moment, and replied affirmatively: "Come on, then."
She slid off my knees and led me to a room farther down the hall. With her finger on her lips in a gesture signifying silence she opened a door, and we edged in. to one side was another door and before this, perched on a table which had been drawn up before it, were a couple of half naked girls, each trying to peer through a glass transom from one corner of which a bit of paint had been scraped away. Josephine pinched their legs and motioned to them to get down.
"He's just begun!" whispered one of them as they slipped down, albeit reluctantly, their faces suffused with suppressed laughter.
Josephine and I took the places they had yielded. She applied her eye to the small opening for a second then clutching my arm, she withdrew to one side, permitting me to look. I looked, and was held spellbound by a sight which caused the blood to race through my veins.
On the opposite side of the room into which I was peering and not more than eight feet distant was a bed, and lying across this bed, entirely naked, except for her hose and high heeled little slippers, was Marigold. She lay with half her body extended across the bed, her legs down over the side, her feet resting on the floor. Kneeling between them with his mouth pressed to her cunt was the Swede. One of his hands was under her bottom and the other was busily engaged in tuning up his undersized and half erected cock. It appeared to be about the size of a child of eight or nine. Marigold was laughing hysterically and at intervals her legs flew up as though actuated by springs released by the man's tongue. He was going after it with all the vim and relish of a hungry youngster tackling a piece of custard pie. As he progressed, the movement of his hand on his own diminutive member became more rapid. From time to time Marigold glanced covertly upward toward the transom quite aware, apparently, of the fact that unseen spectators on the other side were enjoying the unique exhibition.
I ceded my post of observation to Josephine. She watched a moment and her hand closed over mine.
"Quick! They're finishing!" she whispered sibilantly, and moved to one side. Again I applied my eye and was just in time to see the conclusion of the spectacle. Marigold was not laughing now. There was a strained, set expression on her face and in her wide staring eyes.
She half sat up, her hands were now clasped about the fellow's head and she seemed to be trying to effect a closer contact.
The Swede's hand was moving so rapidly they could scarcely follow it. A convulsive shudder passed over Marigold's body. She released his head from her grasp and sank back on the bed. As she did so, she put one of her feet against his shoulder and violently pushed him away from her. He fell over backward on the floor, his undersized cock rapidly lost its slight erection and curled limply down on his stomach. The show was over.
I climbed down from the table, lifted Josephine down, and without a word we repaired quickly to her room. I was in a veritable frenzy of lust and had hardly gotten my cock into her before the semen was flowing.
The result of this episode was to set me thinking along new lines an I questioned Josephine rather extensively about "Frenching" as the lingual bocal stimulation of the sexual organs is vulgarly called. There were establishments known as "French" houses where this particular kind of service was specialized in almost exclusively.
I revolved the subject over in my mind. Here was a new tid-bit on which to speculate. The idea intrigued, and at the same time repelled me. The feminine genital organs had never seemed to me as being of an unclean or repulsive nature. To the contrary, I had always experienced a keep pleasure in touching, fondling and caressing them. But the idea of placing my mouth where other men had placed their cocks was highly distasteful to me! Had it not been for this detail I would have looked on the practice with relish.
Josephine would have submitted to me, if for no other reason than to enable me to satisfy my curiosity but I could not overlook the fact that she was in daily contact with other men, and this dampened my enthusiasm. As to being "Frenched" myself by one of these girls, that was a different matter. And the more I thought of it, the more clearly I was able to imagine the delightful sensations which would accrue through having one's spermatic fluid sucked out by a woman's warm mouth. And I made up my mind that at some not distant date I was going to visit one of those naughty "French" houses.
My relations with Josephine had been of nearly a year's duration, when one evening at the dinner table my father announced his intention of spending a few weeks with his brother in the country. While discussing the projected vacation, he casually remarked that, were it not for interrupting my schooling he would have considered taking me with him. Ordinarily the prospect of any kind of a journey would have my instant enthusiasm, but even as my lips parted to make the plea, it occurred to me that such a trip would interfere with a certain project I had in contemplation, namely, a visit to one of those "French" houses, which I was even then saving up money to finance. And so, hastily revising the words I had been on the point of uttering, I murmured something to the effect that it would indeed be inconvenient to absent myself from my school at this particular time. This indiscreet remark attracted my father's attention. He looked at me speculatively for a moment, and said: "Yes, I believe I'll take you along with me. You've been studying too hard lately. I believe you need a rest, too."
There was an inflection in his tones and an understanding in those steely blue eyes which caused me to lower my head, and I interposed no further objections to accompanying him.
My uncle went in for scientific farming, was quite prosperous and had a fine home in which were to be found all the modern comforts and conveniences possible in a rural community. A week after the conversation above referred to had transpired found us on the night train, and early the next day we reached the small station where a carriage drawn by two powerful horses was waiting to convey us to the farm a few kilometers distant. And shortly thereafter we were at our destination.
I was in no humor to greatly appreciate the beauties of nature in full bloom, but as I glanced around and observed the stately elms, the well-kept gardens, beautiful vines and flowers which surrounded a long rambling, comfortable house, with green fields and azure tinted hills in the distance, my spirits rose somewhat, and I consoled myself with the reflection that even here the necessary ingredients of an amorous adventure of some kind might be found. For my uncle's farm provided a livelihood for several families, which lived on the premises in little houses and cottages and which almost constituted in themselves a small community.
One afternoon, tired of reading, I was discontentedly wandering to and fro among the various barns and granaries on the place when I suddenly and unexpectedly came face to face with a young person of whose presence on the farm I had not previously been aware. This young person was a pretty, rustic damsel of thirteen or fourteen. Recovering quickly from my momentary surprise, I bowed gracefully, wishing her a pleasant afternoon. She responded civilly, edged past me, and went on about her business--whatever it was.
Discreet inquiry revealed the fact that she was the daughter of a widow in who had charge of the butter and cheese making department, and that the two of them lived in one of the tiny cottages nearby. Immediately the situation took on a rosier hue and with the great optimism I began to speculate on the possibilities. It will be gathered from this that I was lacking neither in self assurance nor vanity. My experience with girls had been such as to support the idea that my attentions not only were welcome but expected. Consequently, it was with considerable surprise I found that this country damsel did not respond immediately to my advances. Indeed, her attitude bordered on the disdainful. Though I managed to meet her at frequent intervals, adopting my most polished airs in my efforts to engage her in amiable conversation, she regarded me in the most expressionless way, briefly answering such questions as I propounded in futile attempts to hold her attention--and proceeded on her way. This was for me a new experience. It exasperated me, and incidentally, shocked my sense of fitness of things, that this calico gowned, bare legged country girl was not impressed by my city airs and sophistication. However, aside from being pretty, she possessed a pair of bubbies of dimensions truly amazing in a female of her years, whose contours, blooming floridly and visibly under the scant clothing, fairly mesmerized me. So I redoubled my efforts. But, alas, my most persistent and assiduous attentions failed to evoke a spark of interest, and finally, I abandoned the siege in disgust.
Again I took recourse to the library as a means of diversion, and it was while rummaging through the well stocked shelves that I encountered a book with a French title which attracted my attention. I withdrew it from among its companions and idly thumbed the pages. They were uncut, but the chapter titles in the index fed my interest. I took the volume out to my hammock and with a penknife cut the pages. The title of this book was Mademoiselle du Maupin. How it happened to be in the library of my puritanical and religious minded uncle I will never know but it was certainly due to some accident, and beyond doubt he never so much as suspected the presence of this masterpiece of lurid literature in his staid and respectable collection of books.
I had not, up to this time, ever gotten my hands on any book of a really pornographic nature. The family doctor book, with its chapters on procreation, childbirth, and kindred subjects was a far throw from the book I at the moment had before my eyes. Many times since I have tried to obtain a copy in English, but such as I have found invariably turned out to be revised or "expurgated" editions. In the certainly it would never have been missed, I could have appropriated this copy if I had had my wits about me at the time. The story revolves around a young French girl who, thrown upon her own resources, adopts a masculine disguise as a protection against the vicissitudes of life to which an unprotected girl would be exposed. She is involved in many erotic situations, which culminate in another young girl falling in love with her, unaware of her true sex. This girl, frantic at her apparent failure to win du Maupin's love, enters her room at night and in a last despairing effort to seduce the object of her infatuation, exposes her nude body. This, and many other emotional episodes, in the last of which two females come to a satisfactory understanding, surrendering themselves to each other in a sexual embrace of mysterious nature, were so vivid in their rendition that I was soon in a state of erotic frenzy. Before I had concluded many chapters I arose from the hammock, sought the seclusion of my room, and lay down on the bed to continue the story. Soon I was obliged to unfasten the front of my trousers for comfort. Shortly there after I was holding the book in one hand and masturbating myself with the other. The necessity of being at the dinner table interrupted me before I had finished the story, and tucking the book under the mattress of the bed, I went downstairs. Later, pleading a headache as an excuse for early retirement, I returned to my room. Before I turned out the light for the night I had read the book from cover to cover. And incidentally had jacked myself off three times.
This orgy of masturbation, instead of calming my nerves seemed to have just the contrary effect, and throwing discretion to the winds, I resolved to force an issue with the dairy woman's daughter. I had dealt with girls before whose real, or simulated objections to intimate relations had been vanquished by bold and forceful methods and, though this girl's attitude toward me was rather at variance with anything previously experienced, I decided to adopt a course involving more action and less talk with her. Maybe that was what the sly little minx was waiting for.
Through more or less clandestine observation, I had learned something of her habits and knew that at about four o'clock each afternoon she made the round of the barns and stables to gather up eggs which the hens, allowed to run at large, deposited in obscure nooks and corners. In one of the stables there was a loft in which a reserve supply of loose hay was stored. I had seen her going up the stairs to this loft and it was in this ideally situated and "furnished" retreat I planned to waylay her.
And so, pulses beating in optimistic anticipation of carnal intimacies with her, I waited the opportune moment and when she entered the building that afternoon I was close at her heels. As I reached the door she was ascending the narrow stairway, and I slipped quietly up behind her. On reaching the top of the landing I saw her in the other extremity of the loft gathering up eggs from a nest in the side of a pike of hay. As I approached her she glanced at me but there was no expression of alarm in her face. She continued to pick up eggs which she placed carefully in a basket. Falling back on the old tried out and proven system, I wasted no words this time in idle conversation. Putting my arm around her waist, I sat down on the fragrant hay, and pulled her down upon my lap. She uttered not a single word, nor made the slightest movement of resistance, but simply laid passively in my arms. I pressed my lips to hers, and though she did not return the caress, neither did she try to avoid it.
I had expected something in the way of a mild resistance at least, but things were going smoother than I had anticipated. Delighted at the facility with which the long deferred conquest was being realized, and lulled into a false sense of security by her seeming complacency, I relaxed my grip on her, and without further perambulations put one hand up under her dress and inside the loose panties she had on.
Barely had I sensed the contact of silky hair and the moist flesh of her cunt against my fingers when she galvanized into action, the little wild cat sprang from my lap and dealt me a slap on the side of my head so terrific that my ears buzzed for an hour after. And, before I could recover my wits and get to my feet, she was off like a flash, and flying downstairs.
This misadventure brought disagreeable consequences. The candid girl told my aunt that I had done something "nasty" to her. From my aunt the accusation was transmitted to my uncle and thence to my father, bringing down on my shamed head such a lecture as I never before had been obliged to listen to. Lying like a trooper, I denied the allegations, maintaing that I had done nothing except kiss her under tempting provocation. But she was called in for a more specific explanation as to just what it was "nasty" that I had done to her. And to my exceeding mortification, she convincingly maintained that I had put a finger in "that place" between her legs. Specific enough! I was in disgrace for the rest of our stay. When the visit came to an end, and we were on the eve of departure, I heaved a thankful sigh of relief. As far as I was concerned, the vacation had been, with the exception of a few pleasant hours spent in the company of Mademoiselle du Maupin, a complete, and perfect failure, and I could hardly wait to get back to the city and Josephine.