“Why will it?” he demanded, pushing still harder. “But what if Mrs. Rhinelander comes?” “Nonsense!” he whispered, “I like you a great deal better.” “I don't believe it!” “But, I tell you, it's true.” He now was inside me so far that I could feel his eggs bumping against my thighs. “But,” I reminded him, “Mrs. Rhinelander has big titties.” “I don't care. You will soon have big ones too!” “No, not for a long time yet.” Then he comforted me by telling me: “Just do lots of poking and they will grow fast, never fear.” I was so pleased at this that I squeezed my buttocks several times. He stopped talking and breathed very hard. Then, suddenly, he said: “Now! Now! Oh, my goodness! I felt something warm inside of me and knew that he was 'going off. His spear jerked furiously and his hot finger probed deep within my canal. I felt one hot wave after another go through me, as though I were being licked all over by a red hot tongue! I was breathing hard and moaning! When I got up, the hot juice was running down my legs like a waterfall.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Since I did not see Mr. Horak for several days after this meeting and since my attraction to him had crowded Mr. Eckhard completely out of my mind, I satisfied my longings in the old way with Franz. Also I continually watched my parents at night to see if I could once more catch them in the act. One night I saw father poking mother from behind. Another time mother was on top of him. One night, having been awakened by the noise of their bed, I heard them talking. Mother and father were both naked and father was “giving her the birdie.” Her legs up on his shoulders, he poked her with all his might and main. Finally he whispered: “I am 'coming'
…!” But mother said: “No, no, wait-hold back-wait for me!”
But father went off, and, letting go mother's legs, he sank down on the bed exhausted. This displeased mother greatly. She said: Is that nice of you? I didn't even 'go off'!” After a few minutes, mother asked: “Can't you do it once more?” Father murmured: “Perhaps, after a little while.” Now mother was very angry. She said: “Oh, later on you will be snoring and it will be impossible for me to wake you!” “But I can't do it now!”
“Well, then, why didn't you hold back? I want some, too!”
After a few minutes, she asked again: “Can't you make him stand now?” “Not now. Wait!” Then my mother said: “I will make him stand!” She sat up in bed, and taking father's lance in her hand, began playing with it. Father played with her titties, but for about a quarter of an hour nothing happened. Finally he said: “You see? It's no use!” Mother, almost in tears by this time, said: “What can we do?” “Nothing,” said father. “Let up. He won't stand anymore!” Mother, almost weeping, kept on playing with him. Finally she said: “My hand is tired! I must try something else.”
She now stooped down and began to suck and lick him, all the while crying bitterly. I could hear her plainly. At last she stopped crying and said: “Well, he just won't come. Oh, Lord! What can a woman do with a man like you? You push it in once or twice and then 'get off,' never thinking that a woman wants some too.” Father said nothing, but mother kept on: “What shall I do? With your teasing, my playing with it and taking it in my mouth, you almost drive me wild! What would you say if I pushed you away just as you were about to 'go off? I suppose that you would go out somewhere else and get it? Oh, you men can help yourselves; you would simply go and get a whore, but I-what would happen if I was poked by another man?” “Oh, do what you like about it!” “So-? I will remember that! Don't think for a minute that I can't get another man if I want!” At that, father sat up, threw mother over, reached for her slit, put his fingers into it and began playing with her titties with his other hand. Pretty soon I heard mother breathe hard, saying: “Now! Now! Push your finger away up! I am com-ing!-Oh!-Oh!-That was good!”
Father said: “Thank God. Let the poor soul rest!” I soon heard them snoring peacefully. I seemed the only one awake, all excited and wishing I could get a little “piece,” not knowing whom I would prefer, Franz, Ferdl, Robert, Mr. Eckhard, the soldier, the ragged boy or Mr. Horak. But I could have none of them, so I gave myself a good rubbing and fell asleep. I had become familiar with several of the boys in the neighborhood. This was probably due to that certain something in my eyes or my looks which seemed to give them the courage to ask me for a “piece.” Of course, they were all wicked boys, the same as my brother, poking their sisters or such of their friends as they could get. Whenever I happened to meet one of these boys on the stairs or in the street he would slap me on my bottom or feel between my legs. If I liked him, I'd touch his shaft; if not, I would turn away. With the girls I had very little to do. In school I was very quiet. If I did talk with one of the girls, she would start in to tell me how much she knew about poking, or else she would look at me in disgust when I mentioned it and shun me afterwards -if she was one of those “nice” girls. With the boys it sometimes happened that, if I felt the lance of one of them and he took the hint we would slip into the cellar, which was always open, quickly snatch a “piece,” standing up, then hurry away. I probably did it with eight different boys during this period. I especially remember two of the boys-one of them later becoming very closely connected in my story with Mr. Eckhard. I will relate further concerning these boys in my next chapter.
CHAPTER EIGHT
One of my boy friends was a lad named Alois, the son of our landlord; a fine boy, blonde hair, always faultlessly dressed in a brown velvet suit with Knickerbocker pants. He was about twelve years old. I really believe that I was in love with him. Every time that I met him I was nervous and excited. He seemed to be a very proud boy and carried his head high, as though he considered himself above the rest of us. I felt ashamed and humble in his presence, but could not resist staring at him. He would give me a short look when we met, then haughtily turn away. He was always accompanied by a nurse; a middle-aged woman, very stout, with one lame shoulder. I accidentally met him alone one day, while I was sneaking around the cellar door, looking for some boy; it did not much matter which one, for I was excited and wanted to be poked. I said: “Have you ever been in a cellar?” He answered: “No, never.” “Well, let's go down together.” To this he agreed, and, on the stairs he whispered: “Are you sure that nobody will see us?” This brought us more intimate than ever and also on friendly terms, and I knew that I had him where I wanted him. Still, not daring to touch him, I replied: “Why, there is no one there.” He said nothing as we went down the dark passage, but, stopping suddenly, he began to stroke me on the cheek. I was so happy at this notice that I held my breath. He now grew more bold and began to knead my breasts, and, since I did not object, he let his hand stray lower and lower until it had reached the throbbing crux of my passion. I was now quivering with delight all over. Pressing me harder and harder as I leaned against the wall, he said: “Shall we do it?” At first I resisted, saying: “What if somebody should come?” But he lifted my dress and I felt his little engine rubbing against my citadel. I was so worked up by this time that I reached the heights of passion as soon as I felt the head of the taut and twitching tool entering my canal. Alois' face still was sober, but he must have achieved satisfaction also, for I felt myself getting all wet. Alois remained quiet, always with that grave look. Putting his hands under my buttock and pressing me tight to him, with one shove I suddenly felt his whole shaft entering me. It was a short, thick one, but… it felt quite huge. For several moments Alois did not move. Then he began a round-about, revolving movement, as if trying to enlarge the entrance while still keeping it sealed. I moaned and once more felt myself attaining pleasure's heights. Alois remarked: “Now for the end!” “With pleasure!” I replied gladly. He slowly withdrew his shaft and pushed it in again, repeating this operation five or six times. I felt him quickly expel the scalding seed of his sexuality. There was not much, but he really enjoyed it. I could feel his meager machine convulsing inside me and I right along with him reached my goals for the third time. When he had finished, Alois wiped himself on my shirt and put his instrument back in his pants. He then remarked, patting me on the cheek: “You do this much better than Clementina.”