«Don't try it on me if you're wise,» I retorted. «Pat would like us to speak to him,» he sneered and turned away. I shrugged my shoulders. Edwards thanked me warmly for rescuing him and I asked him to come for a walk. He accepted and our friendship began, a friendship memorable for bringing me one novel and wonderful experience. The vicarage was a large house with a good deal of ground about it. Edwards had some sisters but they were too young to interest me; the French governess, on the other hand, Mile. Lucille, was very attractive with her black eyes and hair and quick, vivacious manner. She was of medium height and not more than eighteen. I made up to her at once and tried to talk French with her from the beginning.
She was very kind to me and we got on together at once. She was lonely, I suppose, and I began well by telling her she was the prettiest girl in the whole place and the finest. She translated finest, I remember, as la plus chic. The next half-holiday Edwards went into the house for something. I told her I wanted a kiss, and she said: «You're only a boy, mals gentil,» and she kissed me. When my lips dwelt on hers, she took my head in her hands, pushed it away and looked at me with surprise. «You are a strange boy,» she said musingly. The next holiday I spent at the vicarage. I gave her a little French love letter I had copied from a book in the school library, and I was delighted when she read it and nodded at me, smiling, and tucked it away in her bodice. «Near her heart,» I said to myself, but I had no chance even for a kiss, for Edwards always hung about. But late one afternoon he was called away by his mother for something and my opportunity came. We usually sat in a sort of rustic summerhouse in the garden. This afternoon Lucille was seated, leaning back in an armchair right in front of the door, for the day was sultry-close, and when Edwards went, I threw myself on the doorstep at her feet: her dress clung to her form, revealing the outlines of her thighs and breasts seductively. I was wild with excitement. Suddenly I noticed her legs were apart; I could see her slim ankles. Pulses awoke throbbing in my forehead and throat: I begged for a kiss and got on my knees to take it: she gave me one; but when I persisted, she repulsed me, saying: «Non, non! Sois sage!»
As I returned to my seat reluctantly, the thought came, «Put your hand up her clothes»; I felt sure I could reach her sex. She was seated on the edge of the chair and leaning back. The mere idea shook and scared me: but what can she do, I thought: she can only get angry.
I thought again of all possible consequences: the example with E… came to encourage and hearten me. I leaned round and knelt in front of her, smiling, begging for a kiss, and as she smiled in return, I put my hand boldly right up her clothes on her sex. I felt the soft hairs and the form of it in breathless ecstasy; but I scarcely held it when she sprang upright. «How dare you?» she cried, trying to push my hand away. My sensations were too overpowering for words or act; my life was in my fingers; I held her cunt. A moment later I tried to touch her gently with my middle finger as I had touched E…: 'twas a mistake: I no longer held her sex and at once Lucille whirled round and was free. «I have a good mind to strike you,» she cried.
«I'll tell Mrs. Edwards,» she snorted indignantly. «You're a bad, bad boy and I thought you nice. I'll never be kind to you again: I hate you!» She fairly stamped with anger. I went to her, my whole being one prayer. «Don't spoil it all,» I cried. «You hurt so when you are angry, dear.» She turned to me hotly. «I'm really angry, angry,» she panted, «and you're a hateful rude boy and I don't like you any more,» and she turned away again, shaking her dress straight.
«Oh, how could I help it?» I began. «You're so pretty, oh, you are wonderful, Lucille!» «Wonderful,» she repeated, sniffing disdainfully, but I saw she was mollified. «Kiss me,» I pleaded,
«and don't be cross.» «I'll never kiss you again,» she replied quickly; «you can be sure of that.» I went on begging, praising, pleading for ever so long, till at length she took my head in her hands, saying: «If you'll promise never to do that again, never, I'll give you a kiss and try to forgive you.» «I can't promise,»
I said, «it was too sweet; but kiss me and I'll try to be good.»
She kissed me a quick peck and pushed me away. «Didn't you like it?» I whispered, «I did awfully. I can't tell you how I thrilled: oh, thank you, Lucille, thank you, you are the sweetest girl in the world, and I shall always be grateful to you, you dear!»
She looked down at me musingly, thoughtfully; I felt I was gaining ground. «You are lovely there,» I ventured in a whisper.
«Please dear, what do you call it? I saw chat once: is that right, 'pussy?'» «Don't talk of it,» she cried impatiently. «I hate to think-» «Be kind, Lucille,» I pleaded. «You'll never be the same to me again: you were pretty before, chic and provoking, but now you're sacred. I don't love you, I adore you, reverence you, darling!
May I say 'pussy?'» «You're a strange boy,» she said at length,
«but you must never do that again; it's nasty and I don't like it. I-»
«Don't say such things!» I cried, pretending indignation. «You don't know what you're saying-nasty! Look, I'll kiss the fingers that have touched your pussy,» and I suited the action to the word.
«Oh, don't,» she cried and caught my hand in hers, «don't!» But somehow she leaned against me at the same time and left her lips on mine. Bit by bit my right hand went down to her sex again, this time on the outside of her dress, but at once she tore herself away and would not let me come near her again. My insane desire had again made me blunder. Yet she had half yielded, I knew, and that consciousness set me thrilling with triumph and hope, but alas! at that moment we heard Edwards shout to us as he left the house to rejoin us. This experience had two immediate and unlooked for consequences: first of all, I could not sleep that night for thinking of Lucille's sex. When I fell asleep I dreamed of Lucille, dreamed that she had yielded to me and I was pushing my sex into hers; but there was some obstacle and while I was pushing, pushing, my seed spirted in an orgasm of pleasure-and at once I awoke and putting down my hand, found that I was still coming: the sticky, hot, milk-like sperm was all over my hairs and prick. I got up and washed and returned to bed; the cold water had quieted me; but soon by thinking of Lucille and her soft, hot, hairy «pussy,» I grew randy again and in this state fell asleep. Again I dreamed of Lucille and again I was trying, trying in vain to get into her when again the spasm of pleasure overtook me; I felt my seed spurting hot and-I awoke. But lo! when I put my hand down, there was no seed, only a little moisture just at the head of my sex-nothing more. Did it mean that I could only give forth seed once?
I tested myself at once; while picturing Lucille's sex, its soft hot roundness and hairs, I caressed my sex, moving my hand faster up and down till soon I brought on the orgasm of pleasure and felt distinctly the hot thrills as if my seed were spurting, but nothing came, hardly even the moisture. Next morning I tested myself at the high jump and found I couldn't clear the bar at an inch lower than usual. I didn't know what to do: why had I indulged so foolishly? But next night the dream of Lucille came back again, and again I awoke after an acute spasm of pleasure, all wet with my own seed. What was I to do? I got up and washed and put cold water in a sponge on my testicles and all chilled crawled back into bed. But imagination was master. Time and again the dream came and awakened me. In the morning I felt exhausted, and washed-out and needed no test to assure me that I was physically below par. That same afternoon I picked up by chance a little piece of whipcord and at once it occurred to me that if I tied this hard cord around my penis, as soon as the organ began to swell and stiffen in excitement, the cord would grow tight and awake me with the pain. That night I tied up Tommy and gave myself up to thoughts of Lucille's private parts: as soon as my sex stood and grew stiff, the whipcord hurt dreadfully and I had to apply cold water at once to reduce my unruly member to ordinary proportions. I returned to bed and went to sleep: I had a short sweet dream of Lucille's beauties, but then awoke in agony. I got up quickly and sat on the cold marble slab of the washstand. That acted more speedily than even the cold water: why? I didn't learn the reason for many a year.