“I'm glad you're not disappointed, Mr. Austin!”
“Not Mr. Austin; just Monty from now on, if you please!”
“Very well, Mr. Austin… I mean… Monty!” I agreed demurely.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries Mr. Austin proved again, as he had done previously, that he was a man who went promptly and without any unnecessary circumlocutions after whatever he wanted. With just the same directness as that employed to overcome Madame Lafronde's reluctance, he proceeded to take immediate advantage, of the opportunity which was now his.
Abruptly he gathered me up in his arms and carried me to the bed. Seating himself on the edge he bent over me and his hand began to rummage under my clothing. With just the proper simulation of embarrassment I offered to undress.
“Not yet,” he answered, “you're too pretty a picture just as you are.” But a moment later his questing hand encountered panties which, if not exactly finger-proof, were at least something of an obstacle to easy exploration. He fumbled with them for a moment, then flipped my dress up and on his own initiative set about to unfasten and remove the panties.
I laughed nervously as he pulled them down over my legs. Already I was on fire. My sensibilities were reacting to the brutally frank sexual influence which the man exerted, and covertly I glanced toward his lap. The cloth down the inside of one of his trouser legs was distended over an elongated swelling. It looked enormous. As though drawn by some inner force I placed my hand upon it. It throbbed to my touch and I squeezed it through the clothing which concealed it.
Whether the thoughts that occupied my mind while I had been preparing for his visit were due to a premonition or mere coincidence I cannot say, but the wish I had expressed in thought was converted into a reality.
My dress was up, my cambric panties had been pulled down over my legs and cast aside.
Monty, on the side of the bed, leaning over my knees and supporting his weight on a hand which rested on the bed between my open legs had caught his first glimpse of my naked cunny. His eyes glistened and a faint flush crept over his cheeks. With one sudden movement his face was between my thighs and his mouth nuzzling my cunny. A warm, soft tongue penetrated it, tapping, touching, caressing, and then moved upward. The hot glow of the caress thrilled my senses and I relaxed in languorous abandon to the delicious ravishment.
His lips clenched my clitoris; it pulsed in response to the tugging incitation so vigorously that I was obliged to draw away to avoid orgasm then and there. I was torn between two impulses; I wanted to let it “come” and at the same time I wanted the delightful ecstasy to last as long as possible.
The problem was not resolved by me, however, but by Monty, who raised up, ripped his trousers open and sprang upon the bed between my trembling legs.
Hard, rigid and hot I could feel it in there, distending my flesh to the limit of endurance, inspiring me with a wild desire to work on it rapidly, violently, until it poured out the balm which the fever within me craved. For an interval he remained poised above me, motionless, looking down into my face. His body did not move but within me I could feel the muscular contractions of the turgid thing which penetrated me. They followed each other with regular precision and each time I perceived that tantalizing twitch my ovaries threatened to release their own flood of pleasure tears.
“Oh!” I moaned finally, and unable to resist the urge, moved my hips in pleading incitation. “You've got me in such a state! Please do something!”
“All right! Come on!”
And in a second that rigid shaft was plunging in and out in a mad dance of lust.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” I gasped, and as though incited by my fervor, the turgid arm drove home in shorter, harder strokes.
Higher and higher mounted the swirling tides, lifting me upon their crest, no longer resisting, but an eager, willing sacrifice, panting to yield up the store of passion with which I was surcharged.
I perceived the approach of the crisis, that delicious prelude in which one trembles on the brink of ecstasy, in which the senses seem to hesitate for one sweet moment before the breathless plunge.
And in that critical moment the throbbing weapon which was working such havoc within my body suddenly ceased its movement and was held in rigid inactivity.
Above me I saw a face which smiled sardonically down into mine and vaguely I comprehended that he had stopped his movements with the deliberate intention of forestalling my orgasm in the last moment. But he had stopped too late, the tide had risen too high to recede and with but a momentary hesitation, it swept onward and carried me, gasping, writhing and swooning in its embrace.
When the, languid spell which always overcomes me after a hard orgasm had passed, I found him still crouched above me and his cock, as stiff and rigid as it had been at first, still inside me.
“Why did you stop just as I was coming?” I complained weakly. “You nearly made it go back on me!”
“That's what I was trying to do,” he replied cynically, “but you put it over anyway. You know the old saying, baby, you can't eat your cake and have it, too. I like to enjoy the cake awhile before eating it.”
“That's all very well,” I rejoined, “but when there's plenty more cake in the pantry, there's no use being stingy with it.”
“So!” he said, smiling, “there's plenty more in the pantry, is there? I'm glad to hear it. But tell me this, does the second piece ever taste as good as the first?”
“And how!” I exclaimed fervently. “The second piece tastes better than the first, and the third better than the second. The more I eat, the better I like it!”
He burst into laughter.
“You sound like you really mean it. I'd imagine that after a few months in a place like this you'd be so fed up on cake it would almost choke you. You're a cute youngster. You're wasting your talents here. What's the story? Innocence and inexperience taken advantage of by some bounder, I suppose?” he added quizzically.
“I'm here for two reasons,” I answered calmly. “The first one is to earn money and the second one is because I like to do what I have to do to earn it.”
“Well, bless my soul!” he gasped. “What refreshing frankness! And you really weren't seduced by a villain?”
“Seduced, nothing! I was the, one that did the seducing.”
“Good for you! You're a girl after my own heart! You and I are going to get along famously, Tessie!”
“Not Tessie… Jessie!”
“Ah, yes; Jessie, Pardon me. Well, since you really like cake, how about another piece?”
“I'm ready whenever you are!”
“What do you say we get undressed, and really make a night of it? I didn't expect to stay all night, but I've changed my mind.”
“That suits me, Mr. Austin. I'm yours… till tomorrow do us part!”
“Not Mr. Austin… Monty, if you please.”
“All right… Monty!” I repeated, giggling.
Whereupon we untangled our respective anatomies, scrambled off the bed, and proceeded to disrobe.
That is, Monty stripped, but when I had gotten down to my hose and slippers he suggested that I retain these last articles of apparel for the moment. Odd, I thought, how so many men who get pleasure from the sight of a girl's otherwise naked body were so alike in preferring that she keep on the hose and slippers, and I murmured something to this effect to my new playmate.
“Very easily explained, my dear little girl,” he replied. “Complete nudity may be as suggestive of cold chastity as obscenity, whereas, nudity supplemented by a pretty pair of silk-clad legs and neat slippers is the perfectly balanced picture of esthetic lewdness.”
“But suppose one's legs and feet are pretty enough to look good without stockings? Everybody says I have pretty legs!”
“It's not a question of beauty, but of eroticism. I'll make a clearer illustration. Suppose we take two girls, each equally pretty. One of them stands before us entirely naked. The other is dressed, but she raises her dress and holds it up so we can see her pussy. Which of the two is the most exciting sexually?”