I slept profoundly, dreamlessly, but not for long.
Something was pressing against my face, brushing my lips, with an irritating persistence which defied my mechanical, sleep-drugged efforts to shake away. I endeavored to turn my face on the pillow away from it, and the knowledge that it was imprisoned so I could not turn it gradually crystalized in my mind.
As one coming out of a bad dream tries to dispel the lingering shadows, so did I try to free myself of something which seemed to be oppressing me, weighting me down, hindering my movements. I could not do it, and awoke to complete consciousness with a frightened start.
In the dim light which filtered through the curtains from the street illumination was revealed the fact that my erstwhile sleeping companion was now straddled over me, a knee on either side of my body. His hands were under my head, which he had raised slightly, and against my lips, punching, prodding, trying to effect an entrance, was that invincible cock.
I struggled to raise my arms to push him away, and at the same time tried to twist my head sidewise. I could do neither. My arms were pinioned down by his knees, and his hands prevented me from moving my head. At my movements their pressure tightened, a sinister reminder of my helplessness.
Of course I realized what he was doing. He was trying to fuck me in the mouth, something I had never permitted any man to do.
In prostitution, just as in other circles of life, there are social distinctions. The cocksucker is at the low end of the scale and is looked down upon with considerable scorn by those of her sisters who have not yet descended to this level. If among the entertainers in a high-class bordello one is discovered to be guilty of accommodating patrons with her mouth she not only loses caste but stands convicted of “unfair” practice which makes it difficult for other girls to compete with her without also resorting to the same procedure.
This does not, of course, apply to those places known as French houses where cocksucking is the accepted practice, or to other places of a low and degenerate character wherein nothing is too debasing to be frowned upon.
These, together with the fact that I was both sleepy and exhausted sexually, were the considerations which inspired my efforts to escape the inverted caress which now threatened me rather than those of a strictly moral nature. The man appealed to me greatly in a physical way; I had reacted to his sexual advances with more passion and enjoyment than I had done before with any other patron. Had he endeavored earlier in the night to seduce me, with a little gallantry and coaxing, into sucking his cock, I might, under the influence of my exalted passions, have yielded. But I have always been quick to resent anything smacking of impudence or effrontery and, as I have mentioned, I wanted at that moment but to be permitted to sleep undisturbed.
“I won't do that!” I hissed angrily, as I struggled to free myself from his embraces.
“Oh yes you will, baby!” was the confident and surprising rejoinder.
His legs pressed tighter against my sides, constricting my arms so that I could not move them. He lifted my head higher. The end of his cock, with the foreskin drawn back, was right against my mouth.
“You… you…” I gasped, inarticulate with rage, as I was forced to clench my teeth to keep out the invader.
“Open your mouth, baby!” he ordered coolly, and gave my head a shake to emphasize, his words.
When I comprehended that my wishes were to be ignored and that my efforts to dislodge him were useless, full rage took possession of me. For a moment I was on the point of screaming, but sudden recollection of the penalty exacted of girls who permitted scandals or disturbances to arise in their rooms at night stifled the cry in its inception.
We were expected, and presumed to be qualified, to meet unusual situations and resolve them with tact and discretion. Nocturnal disorders were unpardonable calamities and justified by nothing short of attempted murder.
“Open your mouth, baby!” he repeated, and shook my head again, this time with more force.
“All right!” I hissed, “you asked for it!”
I opened my mouth. His cock pushed in immediately, and as it did so I sank my teeth into it. The intent was vicious enough, but the tough, resilient flesh resisted any actual laceration. Nevertheless, the pain inflicted by my small, sharp teeth must have been considerable.
He jerked it out of my mouth and simultaneously, withdrawing one of his hands from under my head, he dealt me a stinging blow on the side of the face with his open palm.
“Open your mouth, baby!” he repeated, undaunted, “and if you bite me again I'll knock you unconscious!”
The tears started to my eyes.
“Damn you…!” I choked. “I'll… I'll…”
The hands subjecting my head were again holding it in a viselike grip. His thumbs were pressing into my cheeks, against the corners of my mouth, forcing it open.
There was nothing to do but yield or scream such an alarm as Would arouse the entire household.
I chose the more discreet course and, though almost suffocated with rage, opened my mouth in surrender to the assault which was being launched upon it. The big, plum-shaped head slipped in, filling the cavity with its throbbing bulk.
For a moment I tried to keep my tongue away from it, but there was no space in which to hide. His cock was so big I had to open my jaws to their widest, and my lips were stretched in a round, tight ring.
Further resistance was futile and anymore biting would bring a swift retaliation. So, still boiling inwardly, I relaxed, and let him go ahead.
A faintly pungent taste filled my mouth; the head of his cock, from which I could not keep my tongue, was wet and slippery. Every few seconds it jerked convulsively, forcing my jaws further apart. Pretty soon he began to move it, a short in and out movement. The foreskin closed over it as it receded, leaving only the tip inside my mouth, allowing me to relax my distended jaws momentarily. As it went in, the foreskin slipped back and the naked head filled my mouth again, forcing my jaws apart.
This went on for several minutes, and all the time he held my head with his hands. His cock seemed to be getting wetter but whether from its own dew or the saliva of my mouth I did not know. I wanted to spit, but he would not release me and I was obliged to swallow the excess moisture.
Finally, with the head just inside my lips, he paused, and after holding it still for a few moments, shook my face and whispered:
“Come on, baby! What's the matter with you? Are you going to suck it, or do I have to get rough again?”
I knew nothing of the exact technique of this business, though of course the very title by which the art was known indicated that sucking was in order. Choking, gulping, I tried to suck as it advanced into my mouth. Taking cognizance of my awkward efforts he paused again, and as though for the first time taking into account the possibility that I was in truth a rank novice, queried:
“What's the matter with you? Haven't you really done this before?”
Mutely, I managed to convey a negative by shaking my head.
“Lord love me!” he ejaculated, and then in slightly apologetic tones, “I shouldn't have been so rough. I thought you were just stalling, my dear! However, it's something every young girl should know, and I'm glad to have the opportunity to be your teacher. Now listen: don't try to strangle yourself! You can't suck while the whole thing is inside! Wait…”
He withdrew it until just the head was encircled by my lips.
“Now suck while it's like that, and run your tongue over it!”
“Well,” I thought in disgusted resignation, “the sooner finished the better,” and submissively I followed his indications. Vigorously, if not enthusiastically, I sucked the big round knob and rolled my tongue over its slippery surface.
“That's the way, baby!” he whispered tensely after a few moments. “That's great! Now… hold everything!”
And while I remained passive, he worked in and out in short, quick thrusts. Thus, alternating from one to the other, sucking one moment, submitting to having it rammed down my throat the next, my first lesson in cocksucking continued.
I was still filled with resentment, but the first fury of anger had spent itself, and my thoughts were now concentrated on bringing the ordeal to a conclusion as quickly as possible. To this end I now tried to make the caress as exciting and fulminating as I could. I sucked the throbbing glans, curled my tongue around it, licking, sucking coaxing… and the effect upon my companion was soon apparent. He groaned with ecstasy and from time to time jerked away from me so that the sensitive glans receded within the shelter of its elastic covering of flesh.
Perceiving that this maneuver was designed to delay an orgasm, I redoubled my efforts and when he again tried to withdraw I followed him by raising my head and with my lips firmly compressed around the neck of the palpitating knob, I sucked and licked without pausing.
The muscles of his thighs and legs, pressing against my sides, were quivering. Suddenly he withdrew his right hand from under my, head and twisting sidewise reached behind him, groping with his fingers for my cunny. This was insult added to injury in my estimation and I tried to clench my legs against the invading hand. The effort was useless; he forced it between my legs and with the tips of his fore and index fingers he found my clitoris and began to titillate it.
Now began a new conflict. With every atom of mental influence I could bring to bear I tried to force that little nerve to ignore the incitation, to remain impassive to the friction which was being applied to it, to stay inert and lifeless.
I may as well have tried to stay the tides of the sea in their course. The traitorous, disloyal little thing cared not a whit for my humiliation and refused to heed the mental commands I was hurling at it. Despite the fact that it should have been as sleepy as I had been, it came almost instantly awake, hardened, and stood up stiffly.
He rubbed it in a peculiarly maddening way, a soft, twirling movement with the erected button lightly compressed between the tips of his two fingers. The little thrills began to generate, and communicated themselves to the surrounding area, up into my ovaries, down, seemingly into the very marrow of the bones in my thighs and legs.
Why say more? There was only one possible ending.
When the ultimate capacity of resistance was reached and passed, and in the very moment in which my organism was yielding to the diabolical incitation, my tormentor, waiting apparently for this precise moment, loosed within my mouth a flood of hot sperm. I choked, gurgling and gasping, as part of it gushed down my throat and the rest, escaping my lips, ran in hot, sticky rivulets down the sides of my cheeks, over my chin…
No sooner had the torrent subsided than he flung himself from me and lay panting on the bed by my side.
With the viscid stuff still dripping from my lips and its peculiar starchy flavor filling my mouth, I sprang from the bed and fled precipitately to the bathroom. First with water, then with tooth powder and brush and finally with repeated rinsings I endeavored to purify my mouth.
When this was accomplished I went back into the room, turned on a light, and flung myself into a chair where, for a few moments I sat silently glaring at my tormentor who, with drowzy indifference, contemplated me through half-closed eyes.
“Well,” I said frigidly, breaking the silence. “Aren't you going to congratulate me on my graduation into the cocksucking class?”
He smiled dryly.
“Regular little powder magazine, aren't you, baby? Come on, kid, don't be a spoilsport. I'll admit I was a little rough, but that was a keen nip you gave me. I'll make things right with you. I like you, baby, you've shown me the best time I've had in a long while, and I'm not pulling your leg, either.”
“A nice time you showed me,” I observed bitterly, “trying to fuck me in the mouth while I was asleep and nearly choking me to death. You know girls here aren't supposed to do that! Why don't you go to a French house?”
This plaint seemed to afford him considerable amusement. He sat up in bed, laughing.
“Don't rate me so low socially, baby! I'm a sort of high-class chap with estatic inclinations!”
“I see; a special honor conferred on me. Quite a distinction, I must say.”
“Ha, ha, ha! Forgive me, baby. Word of honor, I'll behave quite properly in the future. Anyway, it wasn't so terrible, was it? Listen, I'll tell you a funny story. There was a young French girl just married and her mother was giving her some confidential advice. 'Daughter,' she said, 'the ultimate object of marriage is to have babies. Without the little dears no home is complete. However, the bearing and rearing of children is a confining task which imposes arduous and continuous obligations. It is my advice to you, daughter, that you do not have any babies during the first two or three years. You will then, in after life, not be deprived of the memories of a few years of happiness and freedom from care to which youth is justly entitled.' 'Ah, mother dear,' answered the blushing maiden, 'you need preoccupy yourself no further on that score. I shall never have any babies!' 'Never?' gasped the mother, 'why do you say that you will never have any babies, darling?' 'Oh, mother,' answered the girl, hiding her blushing face in the maternal bosom, 'I shall never have any babies because I simply can't force myself to swallow the horrid stuff! I always have to spit it out!' ”
“And, so what?” I asked caustically, refusing to unbend at the ridiculous story.
“Don't you see, ha, ha, ha, don't you get the point? She didn't even know there was any other way of doing it. She thought she had to swallow the stuff to get a baby!”
Despite my efforts to remain haughty, my better humor was returning. I have always been like that, quick to anger, quick to forget. There was something about this man which was irresistible. Even his impudence had a saving grace, an ingenuous, disarming quality. Only the memory of the slap he had given me remained to irritate me. He sat there in bed, smiling, a sheet draped carelessly about him, half-concealing, half-revealing the smooth white muscles of his torso. His hair in its ruffled disorder gave him a boyish aspect, throwing a well-formed white forehead into relief against the background of bluish-black curls.
After all, what harm had really been done? And, I suddenly recalled, had he not earlier in the night given me a most delightful ten minutes by putting his tongue in my cunny? The service he had required of me was no less intimate. I shivered involuntarily at the recollection of the short but delicious episode. The last remnants of my resentment faded away. I began to feel slightly ashamed of myself for having made such a commotion.
“Still peeved at me, baby?” he inquired quizzically.
“No,” I answered, my lips twitching into a smile, “only it was kind of… well, startling to be waked up that way from a sound sleep. I suppose you don't believe me, but I never did that before.”
“Of course I believe you, baby,” he interrupted, “it was easy to see you hadn't any experience. Honestly, I don't know what came over me. You gave me such a stand tonight it came right back on me after I'd been asleep a short time. I woke up, and lay there looking at your pretty little mouth in the dim light, and he first thing I knew I got into a fierce argument with myself about it.”
“What on earth do you mean, an argument with yourself about my mouth?”
“Well, it was like this. At first I said to myself, it's too small, and then I said, no, it might be a tight fit, but it could be done. And the argument went on, until finally it got so hot it had to be decided definitely one way or the other, and so… and so…”
“And so I got fucked in the mouth to settle, it. Very well, Your Highness, shall we retire now, or is there any other way I can serve you?”
“Well, if it's not putting too much of a strain on your hospitality, I'd greatly appreciate a shot of brandy!”
I rang for the maid. After a long wait, she shuffled to the door half-asleep, took the order, and was back again in five minutes with the liquor. When this was consumed, we turned out the light and again composed ourselves for sleep.
The tumultuous events of the night, abetted perhaps by the brandy of which I also partook, were reflected throughout the remaining hours in a regular phantasmagoria of distorted dreams. In all these dreams I was sucking somebody's cock. Strangely enough, in them I felt no inhibitions, no reluctance. On the contrary, I seemed to be doing something quite natural, and which caused me the most delightful erotic reactions.
At first it was Rene as I had last seen him, but with an incongruous discrepancy in time which took us back to our old attic playroom days. “I'm going to do something nice to you,” I whispered, and placing myself on my knees before him I unbuttoned his trousers and releasing his erected cock, took it in my mouth. “No, no, Sis!” he protested, but he made no effort to escape the seductive caress. The thrill of vicarious delight was trembling through me when I suddenly observed that Hester was standing nearby, looking at me reproachfully. I paused for a moment to tell her that it was all right, that Rene was only a foster brother, but even as I spoke, I saw that it was not Rene but Mr. Hayden to whom I was ministering. From this confusing tangle of composite personalities, I drifted into another ambient. The effeminate Wainwright was licking my cunny deliciously, and as he paused for a moment to masturbate, I twisted around and cried: “Wait! I'll show you a better way!” With my thighs across his face I took his small but rigid member in my mouth and sucked it until he had an emission.
When I finally awoke it was late noon and the echoes of some of these lurid dreams were still reverberating through my brain. I felt wet and sticky between the legs and my clitoris was in erection. When I had gotten my confused thoughts in order and separated the real from the unreal, I sat up in bed and glanced at-my companion.
He was sleeping soundly and quietly on his back, his curly head high on the pillow, lips slightly parted over white even teeth. He had thrown the blankets aside and was covered only by a sheet. I glanced downward over the recumbent form. Halfway down its length the sheet rose sharply, projected upward in the form of a little tent. As I fixed my eyes on this significant pinnacle-like projection, I saw that it was jerking sharply at short intervals.
I lifted the sheet without disturbing him. That indefatigable, tireless cock was standing upright, as firm and rigid as a bar of iron. White and graceful the stout column rose from the profusion of dark and tangled curls at its base, its plum-colored head half-hidden, half-revealed under its natural envelope of satiny skin.
Still holding the sheet up, I looked at his face. It was in the peaceful repose of sound sleep. I thought of my curious dreams and wondered if he too was experiencing rare delights with some nebulous shadowland houri; maybe, even he was dreaming of me!
The thought set me aquiver. Softly I drew the sheet aside. I extended my hand, my fingers closed cautiously around the pulsing column. For a moment I was content to hold it thus, then, watching his face carefully for signs of awakening, I moved my hand up and down, slowly, gently, so that the silken foreskin closed over the scarlet head and then, receding downward, revealed it in its stark-nakedness.
Twice, thrice, I moved it so, pausing after each movement to see whether it was going to awaken him. At the fourth or fifth movement he stirred uneasily, murmuring some incoherent word. I waited, motionless, until his even breathing assured me that he was still deep in slumber, and began again.
“When he wakes up,” I thought, “I'll make him tell me what he was dreaming about that made his thing hard this way.”
My wrist slid downward, the white elastic skin descended, and again the scarlet head protruded nakedly. As I paused, holding it in this position, I saw a round, glistening drop of limpid transparency emerge slowly from the orifice at the tip.
As I observed this natural reaction to my manipulations a wave of lewdness swept over me, and in an instant I was in a state of passion bordering on nymphomania, dominated by but one thought, one driving desire, arid that was to feel the rigid, pulsating thing plunging in my mouth, to suck it and lick it until the spurting essence brought relief to the frenzy which now possessed me.
I literally flung myself upon it, indifferent now as to whether he was awake or asleep, and engulfed the ruby head within the circle of my lips. In a regular fury of lust I sucked and licked and bobbed my head up and down to approximate the motions of ordinary fucking.
Of course, this violent disturbance aroused my companion instantly, but I was too engrossed in my own passion to be hardly more than aware that he was sitting up in bed, and that his hands were clasping my face as though to guide the movements of my bobbing head.
Indifferent to all else I sought only to force the living fountain between my lips to pour out its elixir as quickly as possible. Instinctively I knew that when it spurted fourth, my own organism would yield in harmony. It was trembling now in that delicious borderland of anticipation, and needed but the final inspiration to precipitate its own shower of lust.
Between my thrusting, encircled lips the muscular flesh seemed suddenly to grow more taut. It held so for a second, and then with mighty convulsions poured out its tribute, wave on wave of hot, pungent ambrosia. Gasping, choking with the deluge which threatened to strangle me, I writhed in the ecstasies of orgasm which came upon me in the same moment.
The reaction to this furious excess was a spell of enervating lassitude. As I came out of it and my chaotic thoughts took on a semblance of order, I was filled with amazement at the demoniacal frenzy which had taken possession of me. Next came the thought of what had become of the spurting jets that indomitable geyser had poured out. The odd, pungent taste was still in my mouth, but I recalled that I had almost choked with the quantity that had flooded it. When he had assaulted me the night before I had spit most of it out, though I had been forced to swallow some. I glanced at the bed to see if, unconsciously, I had ejected it. The bed was dry and clean. Seemingly, it had all gone down my throat.
I remembered the absurd story he had told me about the French girl.
“Well,” I observed, “if it's true a girl can get a baby by swallowing that stuff, I guess I'm going to have one.”
“Kid, that was great!” he exclaimed. “The first time in my life that I can recall that I really enjoyed being waked up.”
“I don't know whatever possessed me,” I murmured in some embarrassment. “It came on me all of a sudden. I woke up and saw your thing sticking up. I knew you were dreaming something nice, or it wouldn't be that way. I thought I'd tease you by frigging it while you were asleep, and then, all of a sudden I just got a regular fit to do that and I couldn't stop myself!”
“It was wonderful, kid, wonderful! I always get a hard-on when I sleep late in the morning and there was something, oh, more than ordinarily thrilling in being waked up that way. I've had lots of women, but it never occurred to any of them to do that, I mean, while I was still asleep. It's something new to put in the book!”
“What book?” I asked.
“Oh, I was speaking figuratively. Something new to remember.”
“Did you really enjoy it so much?”
“Well, rather! If the old pego could talk it would say: 'thank you, a thousand times, Miss!'”
“What were you dreaming about that was making it hard like that?”
“Well now, that's difficult to answer. Whatever it was it couldn't have been half as good as what really happened. I have funny dreams, but I can't seem to remember them clearly after I wake up. About all I ever recall is that there, was a girl in them. I must have been dreaming about you this time. Do you have dreams… I mean, naughty ones?”
“I had some fierce ones last night,” I confessed. “I guess they were mostly the cause of me doing that!”
“What were they about, baby?” he asked curiously.
“Oh, mostly about you,” I lied, not wanting to say that I had dreamed of other men while sleeping at his side.
“Were they pleasant dreams?” he insinuated.
“Well, you saw what they made me do! I'll bet you think now for sure that I'm accustomed to doing that!”
“No, honestly, I don't, kid. I didn't give it a thought at first, but later I saw you weren't up to it. I felt kind of ashamed afterwards for having made, you do it.”
“Oh, I was mad it first, but I don't care now. It gave me a thrill, too. It's the truth, though, I'd never done it before. But I'll wager you've done it that way to plenty of other girls.”
“You'd know I was lying if I denied it. And you wouldn't like me any better, even if I hadn't ever done it before, would you?”
“No,” I answered slowly, “I don't blame a man for having all the fun he can. If I were a man, I'd do everything there is that's naughty. I'd do that to girls, and the other way, too.”
“What other way?”
“The way you did first last night… with your tongue.”
“Oh, you like it that way, do you?”
“It just sets me crazy.”
“Kid, I like your style. I made a deal with the old lady to have you once a week, but to tell you the truth I wasn't sure that I'd care about coming back even a second time. You couldn't shake me now if you tried. I like a girl who hasn't the silly idea of trying to fool a man with mock modesty.”
“You're married… aren't you?” I inquired tentatively, though I knew he was.
“Yes, I am, unfortunately.”
“Why unfortunately? Isn't she nice?”
“That's it, exactly. Too damned nice. She's the answer to why men like your kind of girl. She's an iceberg, a frigid monument to chastity in its most exaggerated conception. Everything related to sex is immoral. The only justification for a man getting into his wife's bed is when its for the purpose of creating offspring, and even then it's a nasty, degrading business.”
In my mind's eye there formed a picture of a pious, dour-faced female, embittered perhaps through the lack of physical attractions, whose life was dedicated to the suppression of all those natural instincts and longings of the flesh which contribute, to make living worthwhile. I had heard of such.
“Good heavens!” I gasped. “Why did you marry a woman like that?”
“Reasons of family,” he replied gloomily.
Of a naturally credulous and ingenuous disposition, my heart immediately swelled with sympathy for my companion's misfortune. I had yet to learn that there are always two sides to every story, and that one must know both to properly judge their respective merits.
“I'm sorry to know of that,” I said sincerely. “When you come here I'll try to make you forget your unhappiness. I'm not cold-blooded,' but I guess you know that already!”
“You're a fine kid, and I won't forget you. Wish I could stay longer but I have an appointment at two o'clock and it's an important one. I'd better dress and toddle along before I weaken.”
With further desultory conversation we dressed and Monty prepared to leave. He held me for a moment in his arms at the door, lingering just long enough to lift my dress, slide his hand inside my panties and give my bottom a few lascivious squeezes.
“I'll see you next Wednesday night without fail.” And he was gone.