“'Nothing,' she answered, 'I am just sitting here with Robert,' at the same time fondling my stalk. “After doing this for a time, she left me and returned to the other room. During the night, however, when father was asleep, she came out to the kitchen in her night-dress, got into bed with me, crawled on top of me and put my spear into her grotto. Then she leaned over and put her nipples into my mouth, first one, then the other. It felt very good, as you can imagine. She showed me how to work up and down, and I poked her until she 'went off,' sinking on me totally exhausted. “The next evening we sat again in the kitchen playing with each other, and, that night, when father had gone to sleep, she again came in and we poked once more. “One night she did not come. I could not sleep and could not imagine why she did not come to me. Sitting up in bed, by the light of the moon, which streamed in through the window in the adjoining room, I could see their bed. I saw mother on top of father, who could not move. She was entirely nude, and was vigorously working up and down. Stooping over and putting her nipples in his mouth, 'she went through the same performance as she had done with me.
“Waiting until she was through with my father, I called out, making believe that I was ill. She came to my bed and leaned over me, asking what was the matter. I suppose that she understood that I had seen what had just been going on. She immediately gave me her titties to play with, got into bed beside me, took off her nightdress so that she was entirely naked and said to me: Tonight you must get on top of me.' “She showed me how to do it in this manner and then we both went at it with a great vigor. In fact, we made such a racket that my father called out: “What does the boy want?” “She replied, keeping right on thrusting: 'He wants me… he's feeling better now.' “Father again fell asleep and we continued our enterprise. We had to stop several times, for we rolled and shook so much that the bed was making a terrible noise and we were afraid of waking my father again. “When we had finished, mother wanted some more. As I could not get stiff, she took my tool into her mouth, starting to suck on it. I wanted to cry out, the feeling was so intense. Of course, my tool immediately stiffened under this treatment. And, as soon as it got hard, she made me get up, go over and sit on the bench, and she sat astride of me, and we had one more poke in this manner. Then she put on her night-dress and returned to her room. “The next day I spent in bed, being too tired to get up. Father thought that I really was ill, but it was simply the result of the violent night I had spent.” Robert had by now been poking his stepmother regularly for the past two years. We looked on him with great admiration and respect, as he had been well-instructed in the arts of love. When he finished his story, we were all set to go at it again, the idea of lying on top of him interesting us greatly. Robert, however, said that there were still other ways of doing it: he had also poked his step-mother from behind. Anna and Mizzie immediately wanted to do it that way. But they misunderstood what he meant by back-door poking. Both wanted to try it while lying on top of him. I also wanted to try it, but since Robert could not raise himself to the tack again, I began laying with Ferdl. Shortly after this delightful afternoon, Anna and Ferdl and their father moved away, and I saw them no more for a long time.
CHAPTER FIVE
Quite frequently at home I heard my father and mother shaking the bed and breathing hard, but I could not discern anything in the dark. I had an idea that I knew what it all was about, however, so, when this occurred, I would lie in bed listening with rapt attention, at the same time fingering myself. I got so that I could satisfy myself very well by this method. I often heard mother and father whispering to each other in a tone too low for me to distinguish words. One Saturday night father came home drunker than usual. Mother got up and helped him undress. When I awoke at the noise, I saw a light in the room. Father pushed mother over on the bed and reaching up under her clothing, she at the time fighting him off.
He whispered: “Here now… spread your legs apart!”
Mother refused, saying: “Go away! You are drunk!” “What of it?… Come on…!” He was a powerful man. Wild-eyed, he grabbed her, tore her night-dress, caught her by the breasts and pushed her back on the bed. Then he got on top of her, brandishing his big, stiff shaft out, all ready for business. “Put out the light, the children are looking,” mother said. But father just said: “Put it in, damn it!” Mother again said: “Put out the lights, you fool! We don't want the children watching this.” Father just growled: “They are asleep.” And he went right on with his business. Soon I heard mother say: “Oh, but that is so good! How big you are tonight!”
They presently finished and all was quiet once more, father falling asleep immediately and mother soon afterward. When they had started to snore, I slipped out of my bed and over to Franz, who slept on a nearby lounge. He had not seen anything but he heard it all. I got into his bed with him and we hugged each other fiercely. He wanted to get on top of me, but I turned over and made him invade me from behind as Robert had done. We were very quiet; nobody heard us, but we were rather frightened at first. We were quite naked and the feeling of our little bodies rubbing so close together without the interference of clothing was delightful. Finally completed off our little poke, and, finding that we were comparatively safe, we did it often at night, as we could feel reasonably safe when all the rest were asleep. Soon after this, we got a new roomer in our home. This roomer was a middle-aged man of fifty or so. I do not know what his business was, but he was at home a great deal and sat in the kitchen for hours talking to mother. I often was left alone with him. Since he had a full, bushy beard I often wondered how much hair he had between his legs. One Sunday, when he was washing himself, I noticed his hairy chest. This only enhanced my curiosity as to his other parts. He was very friendly to me. Often he stroked my hair, chuckled me under the chin and caressed and fondled me frequently. I always went to him smiling when he spoke. Happening to be at home alone with him one day, I thought: “Now is my chance.”
I went up to him and began to stroke his beard. He must have perceived something in my looks which robbed him of his senses for a moment. He began shivering, and put his hand between my legs as if looking for an entrance. I was standing in front of him. I did not discourage any movement on his part, but smiled encouragingly. He pressed harder, but as yet only on the outside of my fluffy dress. I stepped up closer, between his knees, and smiled. His face reddened and he pulled me to him and kissed me. He then lifted up my dress, pulled down my panties and kissed me passionately on the mouth. He next looked at and began to finger my grotto. This sensation seemed different from anything I had ever before experienced, due no doubt, to the fact that hitherto I had played only with boys while this was a grown man. I became so excited that I could hardly control myself. I did not know whether he was using one finger or five. But I did not care. I felt as if I was being poked. Excitedly I began to work back and forth, at the same time playing with the hair on his breast. He took my other hand and placed it on his shaft which he had taken out. It was so large I could hardly get my hand around it.