“Oh, it has been a very long time since I even experienced one tenth of the pleasure I just had,” she answered, kissing me wildly. “You still have some power left, would you allow me a pleasure which I can barely remember?”
I felt her inner muscles relax and tighten; her face flushed deep red and her breathing quickened.
“You hesitate… and you are right… a girl like me… does not deserve the pleasure which really… belongs to true love only.”
I suddenly liked the girl. Her beautiful blue eyes had become tearful but sparkling; there was not a trace of the brazen harshness left in them. I kissed her and fulfilled her wish by lifting her buttocks with both hands and moving forcefully inside her.
“Oh… angel of mercy… once more… aaah!”
How beautiful the girl looked now that she swooned voluptuously.
“Is it possible that you were born for this trade?”
“Ooh… no… not… that… oooh!”
Her eyes glazed.
I increased her pleasure when the floodgates of my passion moistened her love glands.
“Ooh… I have never… had it so… good!”
“Little girl, you're flattering me.”
(After some recuperation): “I am not flattering you. But can you honestly believe that I could find pleasure when I have to be available at just anybody's beck and call? You cannot imagine how repulsive many a male skeleton is that I have to embrace. And above all, I have to worry all the time about the possibility of receiving hateful poison instead of pure juices of passion with which I, in turn, may poison innocent ones.”
A noise in the corridor interrupted our conversation. I opened the door and one of the girls, still naked, came in.
“Upon my word, dear sister, I am very jealous. You still haven't finished and we, poor slobs, are rubbing our fingers bloody and our…”
A sickening and vulgar conversation. She sat herself down next to me.
“You haven't saved anything for me?”
She grabbed my prick. I pushed her back.
“Well, the little boy! How chaste… Well, look here, boy, I don't mind having my fill also, and I'll be damned if I couldn't serve you something better than our dead fish Mary Magdalene here who does not even know what passion is.”
She guided my hand to her mound which was very irritated and burned like fire.
“You can feel it, hah? Those old geezers… all they know is how to make it lukewarm and then they pant, croak and fall down like dead flies under a swatter.”
Quick as lightning she walked over to me, sat down on my lap, facing me, and clamped her legs around my waist. Then she embraced me and kissed me furiously and passionately.
“Now, dear boy, extinguish the fire within me and quench my thirst. Believe me, it ain't no fun when those old goats finally get you so horny that it's no longer possible to find relief.”
I tried to push her away from me, but she clung to me so tenaciously and begged me so insistently that I realized I had no choice but to give in to her ardent desire. That is, if I wanted to escape Mother Bore's establishment unscathed. Thus, I asked my little blonde if she would lend us her bed. She was willing but the whore sitting on my lap thought we already had a convenient position and she wanted to do it that way.
“Just lean a little bit forward and stay there… so… that's it… better… so…”
She guided my rod into her rather wide grotto, received me with loud exclamations, shuddering and chattering of teeth, and she started to labor with hollow groans, drenching herself in sweat.
The novelty of the position contributed most to my excitement. I grabbed the girl firmly, lifted myself a little bit and supported the girl's buttocks. She thrashed as if she had lost her mind and finally her dried fountain broke open and a tremendous flood burst forth. She swooned and was incapable of moving. My little blonde had gotten up and dressed herself. She supported me when I was trying to get up and helped me put the unconscious girl on the bed. Her behind was still jerking, her grotto filled with foam and the dark-haired frame moist and matted.
But enough about that.
We gathered downstairs and my companions were treated with hair-raising stories about my prowess which the passionate dark-haired whore painted in infinite detail. She was inexhaustible in finding expressions to depict her delirious mood. In the main, however, they were rather on the vulgar side. She obviously did not have a decent upbringing.
I went home with a lot of questions on my mind.
7. MY HONOR REQUIRED ME TO DO IT
My readers know me well enough by now to suspect that I tried to squire as many pretty and nice young ladies as I could. In the beginning I was afraid to have encountered a lot of bad luck because I could not find anybody who measured up to my beautiful Frau von Glossen and if my natural drive had been less insistent, I might have gone for a long time without a sweetheart.
In those days I had come to know a certain lady, slender, and with clear blue eyes which told me very clearly what she had in mind. I noticed very soon that she was not at all averse to my attentions and I decided to seek solace with her, the more since I had noticed that her husband was an inveterate gambler who spent very little of his time at home.
I happened to know a few other people with whom he regularly sat down at the gaming table and thus I was able to calculate how long he usually stayed away from his wife. When I had decided the proper time had come. I went to pay my respects to her and introduce myself.
She was reading when I met her.
“My dear Baron, what gives me the honor?”
“Dear lady, I have long since desired the pleasure, but certain considerations have prevented me…”
I hesitated.
“Considerations? In what sense? A young man of your standing and your good looks… what could possibly cause him to have considerations to visit a lady?”
“You might call it lack of experience, shyness, or even faulty upbringing…”
“Your frank and sparkling eyes contradict your excuses.”
I kissed her hand and was rewarded with a slight pressure of her fingers.
To make a long story short, dear reader, after a few necessary preliminaries I had stopped kissing her hand and proceeded to her mouth. Alas, her lips were rough and unpleasant.
My hand sneaked into her blouse, and… found it empty. A bony chest, a few unsightly warts on a flabby, hardly noticeable mound, and a dry, leathery skin. I felt sorry that I had started anything at all! But my honor required me to continue the game. Under slight, pretended protest, I felt under her skirt and my hand had barely touched a drooping thigh before she fell around my neck, flooded my face with kisses and allowed my hand free play.
I found hard, stubby hair, flopping lips and an incredibly large opening.
The woman was a veritable firebrand. She tore off my breeches, threw herself upon the sofa and waited for me to hurry, in full position. I threw a glance at her bushy passion part… it was yawning at me.
My honor required that I do it!
I did it as quickly as I knew how; she kept me in her tight embrace.
“Please, a little longer… for me?”
My honor required that I do that, too.
Aside from the fact that all the spice of the pleasure, if not the pleasure itself, disappears when our fortune directs us into the arms of a female like that, the most unpleasant thing of all is that one really has to concentrate on the task and quickly exhausts all his power.
Moreover, there is no delight in pieces of clothing and the ultimate pleasure is considerably diminished when one has no contact with a loving body, when its passionate aroma is quenched by underwear and the physical contact consists of a handful of starched linen.
But my honor required me to do it.
It is a loss of energy that is far more exhausting than any excessive delights experienced with a beautiful body.