She glanced uncertainly at something which was hanging limply and flacidly from my unbuttoned trousers.
'Your tiddie-widdie is all soft now. It won't go in that way. Will it get hard again?"
"Yes, if we wait a few minutes. It's still early."
"Well … if it doesn't take too long. Maybe I can make it get hard by jiggling it!"
Extending her hand she took the lethargic piece of flesh between her fingers and began to work the foreskin back and forth in an effort to restore its erectile inclinations.
She continued patiently, and in a few minutes I began to feel the first pleasant glow of awakening virility.
"Look!" she giggled, "It's getting fatter already! I do this to my brother sometimes. He
likes it. I sneak in his room in the morning before he gets up. He pretends to be sleep, and I jiggle it until that white stuff squirts out!"
If anything had been lacking to quickly elevate my cock from its still rather sonomulent and recumbent position this opportune and disingenuous confidence fulfilled the requirement.
In instant response to the aphrodisiacal picture her words evoked it straightened out in turgid erection.
Spreading my coat out to protect her bottom from the rough ground'I placed myself between her arched knees and a moment later, to the accompaniment of tremulous sighs and other expressions of delectation on her part, my cock was sliding back and forth between the tight folds of the mysterious domain which babies struggle to get out of and men pass most of their lives trying to get back into.
Resting my weight upon my hands on the ground, I looked down into the flushed face below. Her distended eyes and gasping breath told me that she was close to orgasm, and when a second later her legs flew up to clasp themselves across my back and her arms tightened around my neck I drove in the few final thrusts which were necessary to complete our mutual ecstasy.
Slowly I picked myself up from the ground.
We dusted and straightened out our disordered clothing, and returned to the boat.
No sooner had my companion seated herself than she arose again to exclaim in dismay:
"My panties! I forgot to put them back on!"
So back we went to where they were lying in solitary abandon, and as she stepped into them, I struck a match and glanced at my watch. It was exactly eleven o'clock.
"It's after nine-thirty now, isn't it?" she inquired anxiously.
"A little." I admitted.
Again we returned to the boat and were soon gliding shoreward.
"Did you like it … I mean that first way?" I asked, as I pulled at the oars.
"Oh, it was just wonderful! Nobody ever did that to me before" she added, giggling, "That's the way the French do it, isn't it? A boy wanted to do it to me once, but I wouldn't let him. I didn't know it felt so good."
"Well, we'll do it again some time, if you want to. Ylou can meet me at the park, and we'll get a boat again."
"All right! And the next time you do it to me that way … "
The phrase was never finished for as we approached the boat landing, the figure of a man detached itself from the shadows and came toward US-
"I'll bet that's my father!" she whispered uneasily.
A moment later she exclaimed:
"Why, it's my brother! They've sent him after me. Don't tell him we were at the island! If he asks you tell him we were just rowing around on the lake!"
Disturbed by her evident alarm I slowly guided the boat up to the anchoring platform. As she stood up to get out the brother, apparently a chap of about my own age, stepped up and exclaimed angrily:
"Where have you been all night?"
Without wainting for an answer, he seized her by the arm and glaring ferociously at m#, hustled her off.
Chapter III
So pleasantly and agreeably had my first adventure in "frenching" transpired that whatever lingering doubts I may have entertained as to the esthetic considerations involved in the act were dispelled nor did I therefore permit fastidious scruples to deter me from taking entire advantage of such opportunities as came my way.
My experience and observation lead me to believe that the lingual caress is gratefully received by most females, although many through a feeling of shame,will protest hypocritically at first. Their opposition generally melts rapidly under a little persuasion, or perhaps the employment of just enough force to provide an excuse for submission.
Women are by nature more lascivious than men but the precepts and inhibitions which are inculcated in them from puberty to maturity, exercise a powerful restraint, and automatically assume a hypocritical prudery they may be far from inwardly feeling. Few are ever able to completely free themselves of the belief that this pretense must be maintained even with the
men who receive their most intimate favors.
I shall insert here a few episodes which though out of the chronological order of events I have attempted to follow in this biography, will nevertheless not be miss as illustrations of the peculiarities I have reference to.
Once, under a temporary domestic arrangement, I lived with a girl of very ardent disposition, who lent herself enthusiastically to every erotic fancy our youthful passions could suggest, and we were neither of us novices exactly. There was, therefore, no logical reason for the slightest degree of prudery between us.
It was my custom to arise at seven o'clock in the morning, and in order not to awaken her I always dressed and shaved quietly, and slipped out with the least possible noise. One morning I left our apartment at my accustomed hour, ate my breakfast in a nearby restaurant and was about to proceed to my office when I discovered that I had left papers at the apartment which I should have brought with me. So I retraced my steps and, supposing that Gabrielle, my companion, was still asleep, I turned the key quietly, intending to slip in and get my papers without disturbing her.
The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar and as I put my hand on it to open it wide enough to permit my entry, a sight was unex-
pectedly revealed which caused me to remain 'where I was.
Gabrielle was awake, but she was not aware of my presence.
She had thrown back the bed covers, and with her night robe drawn up over her breasts was lying on her back knees drawn up and legs separated. One round white arm was resting at her side but the other, not so innocently occupied, was extended down over her abdomen. Her wrist was moving vigorously-and the tips of two fingers were lost to sight amid the glossy tendrils of hair at the base of her stomach.
In plain, vulgar, everyday words, my little Gabrielle was jacking herself off.
The sight reacted instantly and violently upon my own emotions. My first impulse, after observing the spectacle for a few moments, was to take off my clothes and delay my return to the office for half an hour or so, but it occurred to me that it might hurt her pride to know that I had witnessed her act, thinking possibly I had intentionally spied on her. But even as I hesitated undetermined, the episode came to a sudden conclusion. I heard a subdued gasp, the movement of her wrist was accelerated for a moment, then ceased and she relaxed languidly, closing her eyes. I slipped away from the door and quietly left ths apartment.
The really curious termination of the incident referred to came a fortnight later. Business! matters required that I make a trip from the city which signified three or four days absence from home. While I was discussing the matter with Gabrielle she remarked in a joking way that she didn't know how she was going to "get along without it" during the period of separation, to which I replied:
"Well honey, you can do what you did before you had me, can't you?"
She looked at me in a startled way, and said:
"What do you mean, Gilbert?"
"I mean, you've still got your fingers, haven't you?"