“And does he 'suck' you off?” “Yes!” “Do you want me to do it to you, too?” He kept this up for about half an hour. I fairly swam in my own bliss and juices. At last he stammered: “I am 'coming' now!-Now!-Now!” He filled me with such a discharge that you could hear it gurgle as it ran out of my grotto. “I knew at once,” he said afterwards, “that I was going to poke you!”
“How?” “Because I know at once what was going on when I heard the story about the teacher and then I saw that you slept with your father.” “I can't help it,” I replied, defending myself. “Father said so.” “I believe that,” he laughed. “You won't tell anybody?” I wanted to know. “Of course not, if you will always let me poke you.” “Yes, I will always let you,” I answered. “And, besides-I have known it for some time,” he smiled. “What do you mean?” “Well, your 'doings' with your father.” “How so?” “Because I have watched you several times.” Shocked once more, I said: “When? Where and when did you see it?” “Several times on Sunday morning.” “So?”
“Shall I prove it? Last Sunday you were on top the first time, then you took it in your mouth and then you finished the second underneath-isn't that right?” “Yes,” I said. He got up, saying: “Well, from today on, you are my sweetheart; now I have two.”
“Two?” “Yes.” “And who is the other one?” “You will see her soon enough.” At that he left. After that he came in every morning after father had gone, inquiring: “Well, anything doing last night?” I had to tell him whether I had been poked or not. He also wanted to know whether I was being poked by any other men. I denied this and wisely told him nothing about the priest. He did not stay with me every day. Often he would just play around for a while, telling me: “Nothing doing today. Yesterday I poked my sweetheart. I did not like him except when he was doing it to me. I did not hate him anymore, however. I thought him unusually clever and looked up to him. I went to see the priest about every two weeks. By now my visits were not confession, repentance, doing penance or cleansing. One day as soon as I came into the room, he undressed me, then poked me and sucked me off. I did the same to him. We talked frankly, nothing but smut; since then I treated him as other men, even calling him by his given name. Rudolph treated me well, as also did my father. I wanted nothing more. When father played with my titties while dressing or I played with his shaft, I had nothing to fear for I knew that Rudolph was not watching. Several times I jokingly remarked: “This morning you could have caught me and my father.” And he replied: “Did you go all the way?” “No, but he played with me again.” “Well, let him play-I will not watch anymore. Several times while playing with me father remarked: “Psst! Rudolph might come in!” It was I who quieted him. “Never mind, he is asleep.” One morning, having opened my chemise, Father was kissing and sucking my nipples-an act which, to the present day arouses my passions at once. He was clad only in his nightshirt. I reached for his shaft and, when I stroked it, it at once stood erect. Putting his hand under my chemise, he pushed me towards the bed. I happened to think of Rudolph, and resisted, saying: “No! No! He might hear!” “Nonsense, he is sleeping,” father said, “and I will 'come' quickly!” “Well, come this way!” I did not dare lie down.
“But you will have no pleasure this way,” he remarked. “I don't need any,” I said, anxious not to have Rudolph catch us.
But he would not have it. “No, no, no, come on!” he urged.
Since I was also getting anxious for “it,” I let him throw me on the bed, and, not to waste time, I put it in myself. “Now, father, please push!” He began pushing. “Oh, faster-faster!” I pleaded. “Oh-today it is so good!” he whispered. “I am 'coming" already-now!” I said: “Just one more push-there-there-I am 'coming” too!” I felt him “going,” but just then the door opened. Rudolph appeared and directly inquired: “What are you doing there, neighbor?” Father was non-plussed, but he pushed several times more in his eagerness to finish. Rudolph remarked with sarcasm: “Don't let me disturb you.” Father now jumped up. Pale and panting hard, he stood before Rudolph. Rudolph eyed him sharply. I remained on the bed, not knowing what to do. “Let us cover the girl first,” said Rudolph, pulling down my chemise. Seeing my naked titties, he threw a pillow over them; “Allow me-seeing naked breasts always disturbs me.” Father could not utter a word. Rudolph turned to him and said: “Well, neighbor, what have you been doing to your daughter?” “Mr. Rudolph, you surely do not want to ruin me?”
Rudolph laughed: “Why should I? It is nobody's business if you choose to poke your own daughter. You made her, didn't you?” “Mr. Rudolph!” stuttered father. “I am a widower. I have no more. I can't sweat it out of my hide!”]Well, well, that is all right!”
“Mr. Rudolph, do you give me your holy oath that you will not betray me?” “I could not think of it!” he called, “I will not swear to anything. But I think that we can work something out. I am leaving for a little stroll now. But, when I return, we'll talk it over.” Father whispered to me: “If he reports me, the scoundrel-I'll kill him!” I felt the same way about this matter.
We fell asleep; woke up; fell asleep again, woke up again, anxiously waiting for Rudolph to come home, hoping that father could talk to him. I About three o'clock we heard the door open. “Now he has come,” father said, thinking that I must be awake-which I was.
Rudolph undressed; we heard him fussing about. “Shall I go to him?” asked father. “Yes, try it,” I suggested. Before Father could get out of bed, Rudolph came in. It was dark and we could not see him, but we heard him inquire: “Are you asleep, neighbors?”
“No, no,” father anxiously replied. “I am awake, Mr. Rudolph.”
Without further talk, Rudolph called: “Let Pepi come out to me!” “What do you want?” father asked, sitting up in bed.
Rudolph slowly repeated: “Let Pepi come out to me.” Then, in a threatening tone he added: “Of course you have no objections-”
Father understood and did not answer. Rudolph waited at the door. Finally father whispered: “Well-go, Pepi. We can do nothing else,” he said, down-hearted. I sprang out of bed and ran to the door. “Come to bed,” Rudolph said. We both got in. “So- he whispered, hugging me tight “Now you remain here for half an hour, then go back and tell him that I poked you!” “But aren't you going to poke me?” “No,” he answered. “I just poked my sweetheart twice; I can't do it anymore.” “Nevertheless,” I said, taking hold of his limber shaft, “I am sure that it will go.” “Do you want to?” he said, taking one of my breasts. “I would like to,” I replied.
“I am afraid that I can't, but will try it. Wait-I will show you a way that you will enjoy also.” He had me get on top of him, my head so positioned so that I could take his shaft in my mouth. At the same time he played in my grotto with his tongue. This was something new for me, and I found it exceedingly pleasant. While I played with his shaft in my mouth, he sucked me off, so, I went “off” every few minutes. I was glad to hold his device in my mouth. It hindered my crying out, which I could not help from doing-the feeling was so heavenly! I was glad for father's sake that I could keep quiet. When he finally “went off,” he lifted me so high that I almost fell out of the bed. When it was all over, he said: “Now, go back.” I was afraid. I told Rudolph so. “I am afraid.” “Nonsense!” he said, “if he wants anything, let him come to me. Just tell him that he had sent you himself.” I crept back to our room. Father did not snore. As I got into bed, he asked: “Well, what was it?”
“Nothing,” I whispered. “Nothing? What did he want with you?” “You know, father,” I answered. “Did he poke you?” he angrily asked. “Yes-but you sent me out there!” “He poked you?” “I couldn't help it.” I tried to quiet him. “Come here at once!” he commanded. “Oh, what are you going to do, father?”
He pulled me over onto the bed, spread my legs apart, getting between them. I reached for his shaft, which had never seemed so hard before. “Never mind, father,” I said, “you may do it to me as often as you like. I will never let that scoundrel do it to me again!”