Eroticon 2 Page 13

  'What a randy devil you are,' the malicious maid cried out aloud. 'Do you think the nuns have less of an appetite than you and are going to take the titbit out of their own mouths to feed you? And do you expect Monsieur to go out pimping for you? That, assuredly, is too much to expect of our gallant.'

  'How delicious she is,' he said, hugging me. 'I don't think it's too much to ask at all. I'd be honoured to take the job on. Oh, my little darling, what a great name you'll soon be making for yourself in the world of fucking. I already regard you as one destined to take the blue riband of fornication and I already adore you on that account. What a pity, though,' he added, 'that it won't be me...' (at this point he passed his hand over my little cunt) 'no, it's impossible.'

  'Alas, what a dreadful shame!' I replied and sought out his monstrous engine. I surprised it at rest and in the shape of a swan's neck. But like a sleeping snake inadvertently touched by the heel of a huntsman, it no sooner felt the touch of my curious hand than it proudly raised its head and immediately recovered its old majesty. This made me sigh even more sadly, 'Oh, what a great shame.'

  'Well, as for me,' Félicité, who was now caressing it as well, butted in gaily, 'I found it so good that if it had been any less long, or stiff or hot, I would have said even more fervently than you two: "Oh, what a shame!"'

  'I've got something quite amusing to suggest,' our charming friend, whom our conversation had made randy again, said, 'which would occupy the two of you very pleasurably for a quarter of an hour.'

  'Both of us?' I exclaimed with pleasure. 'Ah, my love, do tell us how.'

  'I'll stay where I am' (he was on his back) 'and the charming maid will kindly sit astride me facing the foot of the bed... Yes, that's it' (Félicité was already mounting him) '...she will be so good as to put it up her. Ah, lovely! At the same time, the little one will also bestride me facing in the same direction... yes, that's it and yield her pretty bottom to my observation and her little cunt to my kisses... marvellous!'

  His suggestions were carried out as he made them. How readily a man is obeyed when it is pleasure he orders!

  Félicité already had him up her, up to his balls; my quim, made more sensitive by our fruitless attempt earlier, was lightly moving round the loving tongue of the Adonis... Oh, ye gods! What charm the magnet of sex added to gamahouching, with which, of course, I was already familiar from my sessions with Félicité. What a surfeit of joy I felt when I allowed my hands to wander round the perfect hips and arse of the lucky maid, seeing her rise and subside rhythmically the better to be rammed by the full length of that magnificent engine. What a moment it was when he and the two of us, electrified to the very marrow of our bones, commingled the sounds of our luxurious agony!

  But, above all, what a piquant variation was introduced by Félicité's whim when, finishing first, she did not think only of her own happiness and for a moment liberated this great prick which she had inundated with her own cunt-juice and at once enslaved it again more narrowly two inches away. From the very first stroke, it felt at home in the new scabbard and was able to run its course there.

  'Come, my master,' Félicité said passionately. 'Fuck your Félicité in the arse like this, bugger her for all you're worth. Give her all you have. In this there's nothing to fear. It can safely lap up all your heavenly spunk.

  I saw her make an effort to get penetrated deeper still and her attempt was happily crowned with success.

  Our jolly friend evidently had nothing against form of pleasure because he intensified his action with his mistress and, as for me, I felt myself being sucked off with greater vigour. After some time, we both swooned. Félicité, duly charged and discharged, drooped forwards, her face against the feet of her lover, whose syringe was still active and spreading its drug.

  But already this once so proud prick was losing noble countenance. I touched it and separated it from the impure orifice in which it was lodged. It resembled a flower which a fresh breeze had made sway in the air, its head now this way, now that; all the same it still fascinated me. Had it not just emerged from so questionable a place, how much I should have liked to kiss it.

  The self-esteem of a gentleman of quality will not allow him to prolong a scene which is beginning to drag. So, our hero (no longer as heroic as before) got up almost immediately and donned his nun's habit again. Then, having promised without fail to come back next day accompanied by a friend of the appropriate size for me, he returned to his ladder and withdrew as happy as a sand-boy. We congratulated ourselves on having enjoyed so much pleasure with so little trouble. But our senses were sated, our eyelids drooping and we soon fell into the most profound sleep.

  The Memoirs of Madame Madelaine

  New York! Mecca toward which every country girl in America turns her face or her heart! City of fabulous wealth and untold poverty. City of exquisite refinements and gross depravities, of churches and bawdy houses, of wide streets and narrow souls: In brief, a city of contrasts and contradictions. Anyway, this was the year 1907 - a long time ago. Perhaps things have changed since then.

  New Year's Eve Charley and a number of the boys were going on what they designated a 'slumming cruise' and I was invited to come along. As the party contemplated touching on some rather rough places, and the company of a woman might cause embarrassment, it was devised that I should masquerade as a man. Each had some bit of masculine haberdashery to contribute.

  All in all, I made up rather successfully as an attractive, though slightly hothouse-grown young man. The greatest problem was the disposal of my long, thick hair, which I thought I could conceal but temporarily beneath a soft checkered cap. I was assured, however, that at the places we were going to visit, gentlemen did not remove their hats - or rather, there would be no gentlemen.

  I even spent some time practising to speak in a lower register. My voice being naturally somewhat strong, this was not difficult. Yet at times I struck tones that were much too musical to pass for other than those of a Priscilla or a 'pansy'.

  That evening was a haze of tobacco smoke and alcoholic fumes, a succession of fancy and cheap cabaret's, with their corresponding demi-mondaine habitués, a medley of shouts, songs and tooting horns, with sex stories presenting a continual obligato.

  At about 1 a.m. we were encamped in a somewhat quieter type of rendezvous, where the great number of unescorted ladies - and more particularly their boudoir costumes - made it obvious that drinks and music were not the only commodities for sale here.

  No sooner were we all seated at a large corner table than a number of these ladies gathered about us. I was surprised to note that many of them were astonishingly good-looking and all had some considerable fund of bodily charm. The slight contempt that I had had for men who patronized prostitutes vanished immediately. Somehow I had always felt that only those women who were insufficiently attractive to ensnare permanent mates ever resorted to this profession. But now, with this proof positive before me, it seemed more likely that only those whose charms were too slight to insure numerous successive admirers would steer for the safe harbour of marriage with its stagnant waters. True, some of them seemed rather hard, vulgar specimens. But marriage is more likely to contain great numbers of viragos than this profession whose purpose is to please - and I was beginning to learn that there are degrees of refinement even among the votaries of Venus Pandemos.

  One of their number, the youngest by appearance, singled me out for her especial attention. My embarrassment could be better imagined than described - particularly, when my companions, realizing the humour of the situation, urged her on to overcome my 'bashfulness'.

  The lady in question was a delightful young thing of about my age and size, with titian-red hair and eyes of a strange dark blue that bordered on green. Beneath the diaphanous black silk combination, that was all that she wore, could be discerned the pink-white prominences of her pretty form, the firm tract of her belly and a pair of pert, luscious breasts that seemed so deliciously edible that even I, who should have fe
lt a minimum of response to such charms, experienced a deep impulse to bite into them - just to feel those tiny cherry nipples upon the back of my tongue with the surrounding ivory flesh caressing my lips. Her thighs and legs, though they demanded less attention by very reason of the fact that they were entirely bare except for the uppermost segments, were as shapely as any I had seen. A string of jade beads and a pair of tiny scarlet slippers completed her clothed protection - and little enough it was.

  Sitting beside me on the wall-seat, she made herself agreeable to me in what I supposed was the conventional manner.

  'You are a very handsome boy,' she said, with a slight accent that I immediately surmised as French, running her fingertips in a peculiarly subtle manner up my thighs. 'You would make a very pretty girl,' I winced, but smiled at her in lieu of the words I dared not speak.

  'But I like you,' she went on. 'Do you wish to kiss me?' I shook my head. 'No? You're afraid of me? Come now, I won't bite you. Give me your arm. Now - put it around my waist, so. And your hand - here. Like that? Nice, isn't it? Make you feel like doing anything? No? Then your other hand.' She pursed her pretty red lips patiently. 'Put it here on my thigh, so. You like that? Nice and warm, isn't it? Well, do something!' This time with a tiny trace of exasperation. 'I'm not your maiden aunt. You can move your hands a little bit. I won't slap you.'

  Complying, I closed one hand over the firm little hillock of one of her bosoms, while with the fingers of the other hand that lay in her lap, I felt timidly about, sensing, through the silk of her combination, the crisp tiny clump of pubic hairs that rustled at my touch. Simultaneously, her deft, naughty little hand crept up my trousered thigh again to my corresponding part, feeling about for the expected result in vain. Of necessity, the phenomenon she desired was impossible; but little did she suspect that the strangeness of the situation was arousing me more than her caresses alone could affect any mere man. And if a penis had been the indicator of my suppressed excitement, I am certain it would have burst every last button on those borrowed trousers I wore.

  But finding no index to my state, and therefore, reasonably deeming it a mark of her insufficiency, Nanette (for that was her name) pushed my hands from her, much to my regret, and spoke petulantly.

  'You don't like me! I am too ugly for you perhaps. You want me to leave you and send one of the other girls?'

  'No, no! I like you,' I ventured to say in low tones that were fortunately made hoarse by my sensual commotion. Whether the assumption of male clothes had worked a sexual transformation within me and my feelings were those of a man for a woman, or whether I had brought to light a heretofore concealed homosexual tendency or not, I cannot say. A simpler explanation would be that the presence of anything associated with sexual pleasure - and lord knows this creature's every curve and fold spoke only of the extremest sensual ecstasies - would stimulate male or female alike, by being interpreted associatively either actively or passively, as the case might be. 'I would like to fuck her' or 'I would like to be her when she gets fucked' is the idea.

  Whatsoever the reason though - and too much reasoning is inimical to joy, I must remind myself again and again - I was anxious lest I lose the company of this luscious girlie, and forgetting myself completely, threw my arms about her neck and placed on her mouth a fierce, salacious kiss. I was pleased to find that her ripe moist lips were fresh and sweet, with that vague ambrosial perfume that women can give but cannot receive in kissing a man - and I was not averse when she prolonged the delicious contact by introducing the scarlet tip of her tiny tongue into my mouth. I am not idly employing metaphors when I write that during those few fervid moments my very heart sprang to my lips.

  It was only after this compromising admission that I became aware that my companions, though they had been occupying only the periphery of my consciousness, had focused on me at least half their entire attention. They were nudging each other and laughing delightedly at my performance, not for a moment dreaming that it had not been entirely unwilling.

  'Would you like to come upstairs with me, dearie?' Nanette whispered when she noted how discomfited I was by the onlookers. I shook my head negatively.

  'Would you like to take me home with you then?' I shook my head again.

  'Then we can spend the night together at a hotel. I will be so very nice to you. Everything. Yes?'

  Again I shook my head. By this time, the boys gathered from my repeated 'no's' the way the land lay, and considering it a rare joke, boisterously gave aid to her cause, urging me to go upstairs with her.

  'Go ahead, Lou. She'll make a man of you!' Such were the jibes cast at me. At last, to put a stop to this roistering, which already was attracting the attention of all present, and to spare the little lady the public insult that my continued refusal would now be, I nodded my head in assent. She took my hand happily and led me away; but not without my turning back to give my blackest look to my companions for subjecting me to this unspeakable embarrassment.

  At a sort of office in the rear, Nanette was thrown a towel and a key - much like the procedure of renting a bathhouse at our beaches - and I was handed, imagine, a rubber sheath. Instantly falling out of role, I threw the condom back and continued on. My petulance drew only a polite smile from the madam and an 'As you will, sir.'

  On the stairs, I decided it was time to disclose my real sex and bring to a close this comedy of errors. I tapped Nanette on the shoulder and stopped halfway up; but somehow, the words I would have spoken did not come. Perhaps the strange excitement, or fear of an emotional outbreak on her part, or perhaps curiosity as to the outcome, inhibited me. She merely took me by the hand once more and dragged me on, saying, 'Don't be afraid child. It'll do you a lot of good. And you'll be glad you came. I like it too. For my sake you will do it; because you are a very nice boy and already I love you.'

  We entered a brightly lit but plainly furnished room and the key was turned in the lock. Against the wall was a large heavy bed with fresh white linens. Over the lowermost part of the sheets, however, was spread a strip of dark blanketing - probably as a footrest for those who didn't stay long enough to remove their shoes.

  'Now we are alone, honey,' Nanette addressed me as I continued to stand near the door. She approached, embraced me tightly, and rolling her waist and hips against my middle with a tense, slow movement that once more made me regret that possessed no more projectable antenna with which to savour this contact, she placed a long hot kiss upon my mouth. I returned it with sudden, abandoned fervour.

  She stepped away from me. A slight shake of her body, and the flimsy black silk under-garment that had been her sole costume slipped down from off her shoulders till only the upstanding heights of her breasts sustained it; another motion, and it slipped down to the station of her full wide hips; another, and the cloud of silk glided shyly down her thighs and settled slowly about her tiny slippered feet.

  There she stood before me, nude - an apparition of beauty that not even Chrysis of old could have surpassed when she disrobed for some burning, handsome lover in the moonlit groves behind the temple of Aphrodite.

  What divine flesh! How lovely a form! I would have envied her inconsolably, had not the thought flashed upon me that I could not have loved that gorgeous body one half so passionately, so desirously, if it had been my own. From her gracious neck to her swelling, rounded young breasts my gaze went to the snowy valley between that widened downward to the broad delicious plain of her belly; the dimpled navel; the well-shaded triangular patch, overspread with curling silken hair of the richest, sable - beneath which began a scarcely discernible rift that shaded modestly down and inward to seek shelter between two plump fleshy thighs of just that proportion which is not too much for grace and yet enough for love's luscious demands.

  A moment she stood for my admiration, then turning away, presented to my intoxicated view less consciously, another side that put me in deep quandary as to which, front or back, was the more beautiful. The rear of her thighs, more curved, more fleshy
, more lascivious than the front, where, in close conjunction they plumped out in a pair of the most delicious white buttocks conceivable, would have stricken dead with desire any sodomist worshipper of Venus Callipyge.

  Briskly, and to reassure the fearful young man that I still was to her, she bent over a sort of bidet pour ablutions intimes, and with an apologetic smile to me, proceeded to quickly soap and wash her private parts. Grotesque as this action may have been in reality, yet it in no way interrupted or dispelled the tense atmosphere of desire that enwrapped me. On the contrary, if I had been a man with all that belongs to a man, so inflamed by her suggestive squatting position would I have been, that I would have rushed upon her and impaled her soap and all, then and there!

  Humming a little tune and watching me intently, she gently dried herself with the towel, leaving her pubic hairs more silky, more curly and delightfully tousled than ever. Then, throwing herself on her back across the bed, she drew up her legs, spread wide her thighs and awaited me.

  Irresistibly I was drawn near. The fascination of the vista spread before me held me breathless with a strange wild pleasure. Through the dark silky curls of her mount of Venus could be seen, like the setting sun through foliage, the merest suggestion of vermilion. And beneath that, the veritable red-centred velvety cleft of flesh itself, with its soft lovely little lips, shading gradually inward from palest pink through intermediate delicate tones of red to deepest carmine - expressing a harmony of line and colour, of softness and vividness, that Renoir at his best has never attained.

  But alas! I could do not more than gaze upon it. Nature had sadly failed to bless me with the wherewithal to give that darling cunny that which it pouted for.