— It was so nice; let him finger your cunt as he did mine and you will never, never repent of it. Oh, do!
Turning towards Mary, who had sent down a most copious discharge, she threw her arms about her neck, kissed and tongued her, imploring her forgiveness. Mary returned her endearments, inhaling the odour of the doctor's sperm, of which she had been deprived so long, from her fresh, childish lips. She promised to forgive her, if she never spoke to any one of what had happened and if she engaged herself never to do anything the like again, without taking her, Mary, her own governess and very best friend, into her confidence.
They rose, took leave of Mr. Grosvit then and there and returned home. The afternoon passed as usual and not the least allusion was made to the incident in the wood. Though very kind and loving, Mary put on a rather serious face, which discouraged Yvonne, so that she did not venture to address her on the subject.
At ten o'clock they retired and having exchanged an affectionate goodnight-kiss each shut herself up in her own room. Yvonne undressed hurriedly, put her candle on the pot-stand beside her bed, and nestled down between her sheets, provided with all her delicious pictures. Mary undressed slowly, brushed her hair with salaciousness and put on her long white night-gown. Then she blew out her light and peeped through the key-hole to see what Yvonne was at. She could not get sight of her face, but hearing no noise but the crackling of paper, she softly opened the door and entered.
Yvonne heard the noise and, putting on a very innocent face, swiftly concealed her precious photographs under her sheets. Mary approached her bed without saying a word, sat down on the edge and pulled of the blankets, thus uncovering the pictures, which Yvonne kept clenched in her hand.
— What have you there, my dear?
Yvonne alternatively blushed and turned pale, and after some hesitation reluctantly ceded the treasure to her governess.
— Bless my soul, Yvonne! How did you get those dreadful pictures? Where on earth have they come from?
— Darling miss Mary, I really don't know. I received them some days ago by the post, and I cannot even guess, who sent them to me. If it be not…
She stopped blushing.
— You mean your teacher. Yes, it must be he, I suppose. Say, Yvonne, how long has this familiar intercourse between you lasted? It is very wrong, you know.
— Oh, don't be vexed, you are so good. I assure you, it has come all of a sudden. Yesterday, you know… and here Yvonne gave a true account of all that and happened.
— Well, my dear, said Mary, when she had finished her account. Since you have learned so much, I think it better to tell you all, that I should otherwise have reserved for a later moment. Look at this picture of a charming prick! In polite society it is called man's sexual parts, and it is, as you must know, very different from what is called woman's sexual parts. Look here!
And Mary raised her night-gown with an abrupt movement of her arm and exposed to Yvonne's searching look two perfectly shaped white thighs, a well-developed mount covered with thick curls of auburn hair, which ran up as far as her navel, divided by a pouting coral slit. Yvonne, whose erotic passions were wildly aroused by the sight, was going to touch it with her hand, when Mary swiftly let down her nightdress and recommenced her lecture on the pictures.
— As it is not convenient, that little girls should know anything about all this before they are in condition to combine practise with theory, we tell them, that the babies are found in the cabbage.
— Yes, interposed Yvonne, but that is not true. The babies are made in the womb of their mother.
— Yes. But do you know of what they are made?
Yvonne shook her head slowly, she knew perhaps, but was not quite sure.
— They are made of two different matters, one which issues from the father and another issuing from the mother. The masculine substance is formed in the testicles, as the physicians call them; there are two of them and they are hidden in a bag of skin, called the scrotum. All these are scientific names which I think it is useful you should know; women, being fond of their lovers give all these things a multitude of pet-names, some of which, I shall teach you by and by. It is the ball, which you see on this picture, above it is the penis, which has qualifications for different purposes. To begin with, it is from there the water pours out, when men piddle, and secondly, it is destined to be put into the woman to discharge the impregnating matter in her womb.
— Yes, I know, said Yvonne, nodding.
— You know! But who told you so, my dear?
— Oh, it was all in the book, you know.
— Which book?
— The book I received with the pictures. But oh, go on, darling miss Mary, I did not understand one half of it, and I must know all.
— Well, my dear, I'll continue. You know-that mental affections exert a certain influence on the blood, for instance, when you get perplexed or ashamed, it will rush to your cheeks, forehead and neck. You cannot help it. The affect asserting itself here is about the same. Looking at, or touching or sometimes but thinking of a woman excites a desire within the man to get into her. The blood rushes from his head and spine into his cock, fills it and makes it rise and swell out to an unknown size.
Yvonne's eyes beamed with pleasure. Like that she was an exceedingly pretty girl, passion quite transformed her. She squeezed Mary's arm and murmured:
— Oh, now I understand!
But Mary was in a hurry to finish the preliminaries and continued:
— The woman's sexual organs belong for the most to the interior parts of her body, as they are destined to receive the man's liquid and to contain the growing baby for about nine month's of its existence; they are very different from those of the man.
By this time Mary's hand had slipped under the blankets and got up to Yvonne's very pretty, but quite hairless mount Venus.
— Externally there are the inner and outer lips of pudenda, which conceal and protect the sheat.
Here Mary moved her hand within the lips and gradually tried to introduce a finger up her cunt.
— Oh, Mary, what are you at? Oh, don't — She squeezed her thighs together and Mary drew out her fingers and began to frig her button.
— This is the clitoris, the starting point for woman's sensual rapture.
— Mary was now frigging in good earnest and as Yvonne was accustomed to this game by means of her own finger, she willingly yielded to her caresses. Moreover this recalled to her mind the intoxicating scene in the wood. Mary soon called forth the supreme crisis. She had then become so excited herself that she slipped into the bed, pulled up her night-gown, and lying upon Yvonne, pressing and clasping her close, opened the lips of both their quims and squeezing them together quite pushed them into each other.
— You like that, darling, don't you? But it ought to be a big prick, with a rosy-red head, that your little cunt engulfed. A good big prick, very stiff, and hard as iron. It should rub in and out your sweet little cunt, and the full knob should tickle your entrails, till a torrent of boiling sperm was shed into your little womb.
The little one lay mute in her arms, but the heaving and writhings of her body showed, that she was not impassive. Mary threw her arms about her loins and rubbed their quims together, at first slowly, then more and more violently, till the warmth, the friction of her hand lips against the girls bald cunt, the contact of their excited buttons and naked bodies, their kisses and tonguing brought on such a spasm of delight, that not only the cunt of Yvonne, but her thighs, arse and buttocks were wetted with their united abundant spendings.