“If you like-and if you promise I'll meet someone there with emerald eyes, long black hair and milky skin. Oh, Victoria -you are a darling. It's a handy nook, isn't it?” “Mmm. With chestnut-colored curls, too.” “Play on, Victoria! I don't have much teat, but what I have is yours-” “Oh, but the nipples, Daphne, the nipples-yours are big and hard and maroon, they're thick and coarse and hot-I've got to suck them-” “Not before you're without a stitch.” I grumblingly complied. And when Daphne saw me in my naked sumptuousness, her knees trembled. She told me later that if she had been a boy, she would have come simply on sight of me nude.
As it was, she slapped at her groin and uttered staccato grunts and sank to the floor. Her twitching buttocks moved her in a little pattern to my feet where I pressed down on of her childlike teats with my bare foot as the nipple perked between my toes. She was moaning madly now. Suddenly she seized my foot, twisted it, and I lost my balance-falling flat on my back, the wind knocked out of me, helpless for the moment. Which is when Daphne swarmed all over me-she felt something like an ant stinging me first this place and then that, using her neat little white teeth. And I swatted her, just as I would an ant, but she kept coming back to my swollen rutting place, her mouth and tongue circularly busy as I buried my nose and lips in her little yoni and kept an iron grip on her flanks so that she wouldn't slip her redolent slickness away from me. Within seconds our hips were pushing crazily and we were rigidly trying to keep balance-we were trying to keep on top of the orgasm as it came in to crash on our bodies, much like a surfer rides the crest of the wave as it thunders toward shore… Suddenly,, all impetus spent, we crumpled in a tangle of limbs… In a little while Daphne arose wearily and lit a cigarette. The sight of those big nipples of hers on her little breasts was enough to fire me anew. I made overtures… “You do have quite a problem, darling, don't you?” she said dispassionately, indifferent to my erotic play. “You're ready for at least a half dozen more climaxes, aren't you?” Once again shamed, I turned away.
“Yes,” I said in a low tone. “I don't think we need wait a fortnight for my decision. I will talk to Maytemper tonight and secure a release. You may enlist me in your bagnio within the month.” I shook off my shame and stood up regally. “And, for my first night there, Daphne, this is what I shall expect…
13
I gave myself the widest possible latitude at Daphne Oblov's whorehouse-I took on fifteen men, circumcised and uncircumcised, and one woman, during the course of that memorable evening, the most memorable evening, I daresay, in the whole of my life, the consequences of which dictated the course of the rest of my days.
Before seeking sleep, I doggedly sat down at the mahogany writing table in the suite Daphne had allotted me -replete with potted palms, velvet drapes and a reproduction of Botticelli's Aphrodite-and, in a journal I had set aside for the purpose, I put down the impressions of my voluntary servitude. With your indulgence, dear reader, they here follow… They don't ask your last name. I told them my given name was Victoria. Sometimes I asked for their Christian names, sometimes I didn't. My first gig was a chap whose first name was Olden. Pillar-of-society type. Said he was a barrister. Some six feet six inches I gauged his height as. He had a whale of a walloper hanging from a ginger-colored forest. Strange-he had a thin-lipped face, nasty eyes growing close together, but he looked immediately naive when I closed a fist around his walloper and slowly worked it with palm and fingers. He spoke the King's English quite properly but with a strong Scottish bias. Had freckles on his face and walloper. Felt rather strongly about me-said he'd keep me if I'd a mind to. Declined, of course. Courteously. Thanked him. And then guided in his walloper. He said he felt as if he were parting the Black Sea. On the other hand, I felt as if it were a big fish taking a canal route-and I raised and lowered my locks. Olden liked that and got his teeth into one of my large teats and shook it as a dog might-that drove me wild. I whipped my hips around so rapidly that he creamed in a couple of seconds, expressing astonishment. He said he thought he could last longer than that. I took the sting off by remarking it was I who couldn't-as I wiped his spatter off my belly. He said he'd visit me regularly. Dressed. Left. My second was a first-year university lad who couldn't have been more than eighteen. Hardly had a beard. Short sort of lad -I was taller than him by a head. I didn't fault him for it, though. Access to my breasts quite convenient. I was in a whirl about him-he was a virgin, he said.
Believed him. His rod and redeemer was thick and short and very pink.
“History of masturbation?” I asked. Agape, he gazed at me.
I lessened the shock by saying, “Come, come, sir-I know a few terms.” “I suspect you know several more,” he said. “Anyhow,” he said, “do call me Arthur and would you take care of me right away?
I've been imagining it for years.” “My pleasure, Arthur.”
“Really? I thought your sort rather have a minimum of that.”
“Not in my case,” I said. I thought his physical build odd but took it as it came. He had a standing-out type of body. His ears stood out, his chin stood out, his shoulders and hips stood out. And he had long feet. I made matters last-this was his fledgling flight, so to speak. I had him probe me with his long toes until he was as wild as I was. Then, to really turn the screw, I squatted on his face for several minutes. I wanted him to appreciate what precious viands could be found in such matted vegetation. Arthur gasped. That was his last gasp. After that he learned very rapidly. He learned he could have dessert as the first item on the menu. He spooned me up with great enthusiasm. It was then time for the curtain thoroughly to rise. I introduced his lingam with great care. It slipped out. Arthur was chagrined. “Again,” I said.
He nodded. I introduced his barrow once more. It was a good barrow- stiff against my clitoris. But it slipped out again.
“Arthur,” I said, “you are too anxious. You must not yourself, at least not as yet, initiate the action. I will do so. Is that clear?”
He nodded. I put him in touch again and I said, “Don't move.” “All right,” he said, cowed. I got a finger down there to get the balls rolling. For so stubby a stem, he had very big balls. Be prepared for a volcanic eruption and a lava flow of mammoth proportions, I told myself. I had made a very accurate prediction-Arthur flooded my ark. And he kept coming. I said, “Arthur, we will never reach dry land.” “Shalom,” he said.
Some of my best friends were Jews so I knew the Hebrew word.
“Yes,” I said, “I am all peace.” His copious outpouring had inspired me afresh. I wanted to turn on his barrels again but Arthur said his duct was finished for the night. He put on his clothes and limped out of my suite without so much as a good night. The bastard. I needed a durable magnetic needle, now! A middle-aged man by the name, he said, of Martin Tripplette, who was just about my height, with lank blond hair and a wizened face-was next. He had a bad skin, splotched with boils-nothing contagious, Daphne Oblov had forewarned me.
Whatever, I was not repelled. It would take a bullet to repel me when I wanted cock to nestle within me, and Tripplette had the kind of long skinny one that gave any kind of woman who was a woman the sensation that she was coiling a length of rope about her windlass-clitoris. And it did turn out that Tripplette was a seafaring man, so we made a trim ship and he gave me a full-speed-ahead rudder. Three times the bells in the engine room jangled, and three times Tripplette had to bail himself out. I was more than game for a fourth and Tripplette looked at me queerly. “Try and give yourself a rest, lass,” he said tenderly, and shut the door behind him. The fourth prospect who opened my door was a lightsome lad in his mid-twenties-he seemed afloat. I myself wasn't in the least fatigued. There seemed to be no end to my pleasure. But it was slipping into phantasmagoria… and that's how I'm writing it down… Lightsome lad. Jeremy. “Hello, Victoria.”