We now had plenty of time to be alone. There was no tenant for the extra room and Mamma Agnes was working out, with the result that we had several hours at our disposal between the time school was over and the hour at which she returned.
One day while we were standing on the sidewalk in front of the house Leonard appeared. Leonard, being entirely in Rene's confidence, had been appraised of the new state of affairs. He had intimated that he would like to try it again with me, which intimation I had listened to with no great enthusiasm, not through chaste reluctance, but because of the still lingering recollection of what had happened the first time.
I was still in ignorance of the exact physical facts and blamed him for the pain I had suffered. After some desultory conversation the enterprising Leonard suggested that the three of us proceed to the attic and have a hoochy dance. If you are familiar with juvenile parlance you may know that a hoochy dance is a simple but interesting form of entertainment in which the participants take off their clothes or “get naked” as they express it, and either with hands joined or independently, will jump and cavort in a circle in a sort of primitive dance.
The element of attraction in this otherwise inspired diversion being that the boys can look at the girl's cunny and the girl can look at the boys' dickies. “And…” continued Leonard, after contributing this suggestion for a pleasant manner in which to pass the afternoon ”… afterwards, you can fuck Jessie and I'll look, and then I'll fuck her and you can look.”
As for me I was entirely agreeable to the first part of the program, and open to acceptance on the latter. It was Rene who interposed the logical objection that three of us weren't enough to properly stage a hoochy dance and we set to speculating as to the possibility of getting additional recruits. A hurried inventory of acceptable prospects only brought to light that this one was not at home, that one was sick, and another being “kept in” as a disciplinary measure, etc. It seemed there was little hope of rounding out the party on short notice and as a last recourse, Leonard rather apologetically suggested that maybe we'd be satisfied with Maisie.
This was a thought. Maisie had never participated in any of our doings because being younger than the rest of us we looked down upon her from the vantage of our maturity and wisdom as being just a kid. Nevertheless, Maisie had earned quite a reputation of her own and Leonard made no secret of the fact that before his ideas had been broadened by the vanished maidservant he had often diddled his little sister. He looked on hopefully while Rene studied the suggestion.
“Can you find her?” queried Rene.
“Sure I can, if you'll wait for me!” responded Leonard.
“Well, all right, then. Hurry up!”
In less than five minutes Leonard was back with Maisie in tow. She was a beautiful little thing and her eyes were shining with elation at the idea of being permitted to participate in older children's secrets.
“Now we're going to have a hoochy dance in our attic,” explained Rene, addressing her. “If we let you come, you won't tell, will you?”
“No, no! I won't tell, ever!” she exclaimed vehemently. “I'm not a tattletale, am I, Lenny?” she added, turning to her brother for corroboration.
“No, she won't tell. She knows bloody well we'll knock her block off if she does!” responded Leonard with menacing emphasis.
Up to the attic we trooped and with much giggling and laughter began to undress. True to the usual formula of feminine hypocrisy, Maisie and I both made a great show of being concerned about the boys seeing us before we were “ready” and chided them hysterically for peeking while we were undressing.
This incitation had its natural effect upon the two boys and when we finally faced them, every stitch of clothing removed from our white little bodies, their cocks were standing out in stiff and rigid excitation.
We dragged the mattress to one side and, joining hands, began our hoochy dance, which consisted of nothing more complicated than swinging around in a circle and jumping up and down to the accompaniment of some ribald verses which we repeated over and over while the feminine eyes of the contiguity were fixed on jiggling dickies which bounced up and down with the violent movements of their owners, and the masculine ones on fat-lipped, hairless little cunnies.
When we had finally exhausted our acrobatic and musical repertoire we sat down, breathless, to rest and devise further exploits. Leonard wanted to fuck me while Rene and Maisie looked on, and then have the arrangement reversed with him and me the spectators while Rene fucked Maisie.
I protested that it hurt with him and expressed a preference to do it with Rene. My protest was partly actuated by something akin to jealousy. Somehow, I didn't exactly relish the idea of Rene fucking Maisie. But Rene intervened, and his word was law. It wouldn't hurt me now if I did it with Leonard. I was used to it now.
And so, with Leonard crouched on one side and I on the other, both watching with wide eyes, my foster brother Rene straddled Maisie's naked body, got his cock into a crevice which fitted around it like a tight little ring of flesh and, without a mishap or indication of discomfort on her part, fucked her until he had an orgasm.
Maisie never stirred or made a sound. She just lay there quietly, looking up into his face with her big, wondering eyes until he had finished and then calmly wriggled out from under him, sat up and murmured:
“Now it's our turn to watch!”
“Didn't it make you feel nice, Maisie?” I asked in some astonishment at her placidity. “When Rene and I do it, T just tremble all over, it makes me feel so good!”
“Sure, it makes me feel nice. I like to do it!” affirmed Maisie, but it was apparent that she had not yet experienced a real orgasm, even though Leonard had long since gotten her maidenhead out of the way.
With some inward misgivings I submitted to Leonard's ministrations and, of course, quickly discovered that my fears were groundless, for his dickey was in almost before I knew it, and this time without causing me any pain. Not counting Leonard's previous attempt, this was the first time I had been really fucked by any boy except Rene and, despite my affection for him, the novelty of a new cock had its emotional reaction and very quickly brought my quivering organism to that delicious borderland wherein for a few seconds the senses vibrate in ecstatic anticipation before definitely rendering their delicious offering. Another wiggle or two served to precipitate the ejaculation.
I was about twelve years old when what I have just related occurred. A few days later, on the way home from school, a boy named Bryan sidled up to me and rather timidly asked me if I would do it with him.
Bryan was a boy I would have described as nice. He was fourteen or fifteen, always dressed very neatly, had a pleasing personality and agreeable features. To say that I was not surprised at the overture would be an exaggeration, yet I was not displeased. If I had any doubts as to precisely what he meant by “do it” with him, the doubt was dispelled with one look into his flushed face and averted eyes and the uneasy, furtive glances he cast about as though to assure himself that there was no one else within hearing. Nevertheless, to delay an answer until I could gather my confused thoughts, I murmured innocently:
“Do what with you?”
“Aw, you know what I mean, Jessie!”
“No, I don't!”
“Something nice… like you did with Lenny Connors!”
His reference to Leonard caused me a slight chill of apprehension, but did not entirely prejudice me against him. He continued to coax, and I, beginning to enjoy the thrill of being begged for something with such humility, neither definitely denied nor promised my complacency.
“Where could we go to do it?” I asked evasively.
His answer to this revealed the fact that he was well informed regarding my private life and affairs.
“Couldn't we go up to your attic before your mamma comes home?” he suggested hopefully.
This was something Rene would have to be consulted on, so I evaded a direct answer by saying I'd tell him the next day, and with that I skipped off.
“Bryan wants to do it with me. Shall I let him?” I asked Rene.
“Bryan? Bryan who?”
“Bryan Thompson, that boy that lives over on Little Goose Neck Road.”
Rene considered the matter for a moment and deciding apparently that it was of insufficient importance to trouble his head over, disclaimed responsibility with an indifferent shrug.
“Oh, I don't know. Do what you want. What do I care?”
“He knows about Leonard and me. I bet Maisie… '
“Gee! You better do it with him so he won't tell. I got to go now and see a chap. Goodbye.”
And so it came about that Bryan's name was added to my now growing list of youthful paramours. He was bigger than Rene or Leonard, and had something which neither of the other two possessed, a growth of dark, crisp hair on his pubic regions. He hurt me a little, but he was careful and despite the slightly painful distension I soon began to feel the warm, sensuous tremors which precede orgasm. His slow, cautious thrusts brought my organism to a, pitch of excitation such as I had not yet experienced, and when the climax came I almost fainted with the intensity of the ecstasy. Afterwards, he showed me where my fingernails had actually cut into his flesh while I was hugging him in the crisis. He was a very gentlemanly little fellow and thanked me in the most courteous and serious manner imaginable for having let him do it to me. In addition, he made me glow happily by telling me that I had the prettiest legs of any girl he had ever seen. Bryan had the makings of a real courtier.
Before long my popularity was spreading and new suitors for my favors were appearing almost magically. Sometimes even boys and young men I did not know accosted me in the streets, some humbly and supplicatingly, and others quite impertinently.
Instead of being alarmed at this situation I took it as a flattering indication of my popularity. And, inevitably, I discovered that the soft nest between my legs, upon which a filmy growth of silky hair was beginning to grow, could be made to hatch financial rewards as well as genetic pleasures.
That some horrible fate did not overtake me as the result of my complacency with utter strangers is only proof of the old, old theory that guardian angels look after the safety of children and fools, sometimes, at least.
Once I made an appointment with a man to meet him at a certain corner after dark, expecting to be taken to a room. He led me into an alley of such sinister and abandoned aspects that I did indeed become alarmed and refused to go any further. For a while he tried to persuade me with flattering words and promises of generous compensation, but the more he talked, the more uneasy I became, and finally, cursing me viciously, he turned away and quickly disappeared.
One night a young man of genteel but delicate physical features accosted me in terms so respectful and courteous that I listened to his insinuations and consented to accompany him to his room which, though far from pretentious, was neatly and comfortably furnished.
I had long since discovered that men's first thoughts were to see me naked as quickly as possible; they seemed literally burning to gorge their eyes with the spectacle of my nudity, so as soon as I was in the privacy of a room I always undressed down to my hose and slippers without waiting to be asked.
No sooner was the door closed behind us in this instance than I started to take off my clothes. But the young man stopped me with a gesture.
“No, no!” he exclaimed, “don't undress!”
I paused uncertainly.
“I've got to take off my clothes… my panties anyway… don't you want to see me naked?”
“No, no! Don't take off anything! I'll tell you what to do, don't do anything except just what I tell you. You'll get your money.”
“But… but what do you want me to do?”
“I'll show you. Just sit down and wait. I'll be back in a minute.”
I sat down in the chair he indicated and he disappeared into an adjoining room, closing the door behind him. I heard him moving about, and five minutes later he appeared again, strip, stark naked. He was rather thin, but his skin was white and clean. His cock, entirely indifferent to the proximity of a feminine spectator, hung down inert and listless.
Crossing the room he unlocked a cabinet and took from it a bundle of thin, pliant switches. Selecting one of these he extended it toward me and murmured in a voice which was both low and supplicating:
“Take this switch and whip me as hard as you can.”
I gazed at him mute with stupefaction.
“Come!” he urged, putting the switch in my hand.”
“You're joking!” I managed to exclaim.
“What do you want me to whip you for?”
“Oh, don't waste time asking questions! Do as I ask and you'll get your money!”
I saw that he was in earnest and, thinking that I had to deal with a crazy man whom it would be best to humor, dazedly got to my feet clutching the switch which he had placed in my hand.
“Whip me as hard as you can!” he whispered huskily, indicating the cheeks of his bottom with a gesture.
Fearfully, I drew back the slender birch and brought it forward against his flesh with a smart thwack.
“Harder!” he said, “as hard as you can!”
I repeated the blow, with greater force.
“Keep on! Don't stop! Don't be afraid!”
In obedience to this exhortation I struck him several more blows in succession.
“That's the way… only harder!” he exclaimed.
Again I drew the birch back and this time it fairly whistled through the air as it rained stinging cuts over his thighs and buttocks. In its wake livid crisscross lines began to appear on the white flesh. As I saw these marks developing under my blows a curious sensation began creeping up through my own body. A sort of fury took possession of me and instead of feeling sorry for the pain I was inflicting I felt an urge to increase his torment. My face was hot and my heart beat violently. I clenched my teeth and put all the strength I possessed behind the swishing birch.
He stood there rigidly, his eyes glassy, distended, an ecstatic expression on his face. And then I noticed something else. His cock, which had at first been hanging lifelessly down, was coming into a slow erection. It was expanding in size and jerking convulsively at short intervals and with each jerk it lifted itself upward a little higher.
I watched it with fascinated eyes and as it slowly assumed its maximum of rigidity and erection the first shiver of something akin to lewd voluptuousness kindled within me. I comprehended that in some manner there was a relation between the whipping I was inflicting on him and my own obscure, erotic reaction, and I tried to increase the severity of my blows.
“Enough!” he gasped suddenly, and snatching the whip from me he flung it across the room. “Now! Frig me quick!” And he seized my hand and placed it upon his cock.
I was now in a state in which I would have welcomed a reciprocal caress, even masturbation, but I dared not disobey him. Supporting his testicles with one hand I pumped his cock frenziedly with the other and before I had made a dozen passes his seminal fluid was spurting from my fist in copious jets.
For this service, my first experience in the realms of abnormal sexual practices, the young man presented me with ten shillings and I went home marveling, not only at his curious eccentricity, but at the peculiar sensations I myself had experienced while occupied with the weird business.
My moral status was now pretty well established in the neighborhood in which I had lived since infancy. The echos from shrewish tongues to the effect that “something should be done” had reached my ears on more than one occasion. I had not been able to conceal my occasional financial affluence from Mamma Agnes who had taken note of mysteriously acquired bits of finery and articles of personal adornment which could not be readily accounted for. Her comments, at first veiled, became more cynical as time went on. Her well-founded suspicions were justified when, returning one afternoon at an hour much earlier than the usual one, she opened a door which Rene and I, grown careless with respect to elementary precautions, had left unlocked.
When we first saw her she was swaying tip-sily in the open door. Tipsy, yes, but not too tipsy to realize the significance of the picture which confronted her. I, my breasts still heaving under the stimulation of an orgasm just effected, lying on the bed with my panties off and the rest of my clothing in guilty disarray, and Rene, his pants unbuttoned in front and his still rigid cock projecting therefrom as he reached for a towel to wipe it off in the precise moment in which the movement of the door attracted our attention.
There was a dull minute of silence; silence frozen and absolute except for the imperturbable ticking of the small china clock on the dresser. Raising her hands in front of her with the palms outward in a gesture of renunciation, Mamma Agnes murmured thickly:
“I war-r-shh me hands of the pair of ye!”
And she closed the door upon us, leaving Rene and me to stare at each other in blank dismay.
“Gee, Sis! Why didn't you latch the door?” exclaimed Rene when the sound of her footsteps had died away.
“Why didn't you?” I countered weakly.
From this time on Mamma Agnes maintained a stony indifference toward me, speaking only when unavoidable, and then with caustic brevity.
One Saturday evening about a month later, as I was returning to the house after having spent the afternoon with a girl friend, a young man passed me in the street. His glance, as it appraisingly flitted over my face and body, conveyed the message I had learned to recognize and in a brief moment of passing I was able to observe that in addition to a handsome appearance, he was more than commonly well-dressed. The immaculate linen and modish cut of his clothes, together with an expensive topcoat, suggested money, of which at that moment I had none, and I had seen in a store that very day a pair of high-heeled slippers of irresistible appeal.
I slowed my steps and paused before a shop window. I was not mistaken in my anticipations, for he was quickly at my side, murmuring seductive blandishments in my ear.
Up to a certain point my knowledge of what transpired subsequently is quite clear, but beyond that only incoherent and fragmentary recollection remains.
There was a long ride in a cab which took us into a distant section of the city unfamiliar to me, a luxurious residence into which we were received by a uniformed domestic who bowed servilely to each curt order from the young man who accompanied me. I had made a conquest this time which far outshone any previous adventure. All this stands out vividly in my memory, together with the beautiful and costly furnishings of the rooms to which I was conducted, the rich, red wine I drank from a sparkling crystal goblet and which sent the blood coursing through my veins, filling me with a delicious languor as I sat naked on my companion's knees while his hands and lips caressed my body, lips which tugged and sucked at the little nipples of my breasts causing them to puff up excitedly and send delicious radiations vibrating through me, soft, well-kept hands with delicate fingers whose exquisite titillations between my yielding legs evoked other delicious ecstasies.
Another goblet of ruby-red wine, two, maybe three, and the recollection begins to dim, with only an occasional flash reacting upon my memory; a bed, wonderfully soft and warm and yielding, silken covers which caressed my naked body like the touch of feathers, oblivion, and then a return to semiconsciousness and an indifferent realization of the fact that I was being fucked, another period of darkness and again the awareness of a warm, throbbing cock stirring inside my body.
And so on, throughout what seemed interminable hours, I alternated between moments of lucidity and long periods of oblivion. Whether it was one fuck which lasted all night, or a dozen repeated at intervals I do not know. I had never been drunk before, and it was more like some incoherent dream than a reality.
When I awoke I could not at first remember the circumstances which accounted for my presence in such unfamiliar surroundings. I sat up among the disordered coverings and looked about. I was alone. My clothes were draped over a settee where I had placed them on disrobing the previous night. I was entirely naked and had a splitting headache, the explanation of which was apparent in the form of empty bottles and wine-stained goblets on a small tabouret near the bed.
As my glance roved about the room it encountered a clock sustained in the uplifted arms of a porcelain shepherdess, and I saw with a start that it was past the hour of eleven. I had never been absent from home all night before.
In this moment there was a rap at the door and hardly had I time to snatch a sheet up over my bubbles than it opened and a servant, the same one who had admitted us the previous evening, entered, bearing a tray with a pot of tea, some buttered toast and marmalade.
“The marster's horders, Miss, to serve you breakfast, and get a cab for you when you're ready.”
With the sheet still clutched over my breasts I watched him as he drew up a small table which, pivoting on an iron base, swung directly over my lap as I sat there in bed. After placing the tray on the table he indicated a silver bell.
“You may ring that, Miss, after you're dressed, when you're ready to go.”
I sipped the tea and nibbled at the toast after he had gone, immersed in uneasy meditations which the situation naturally inspired. When I had eaten as much as I could with an appetite impaired by a throbbing headache, I slipped out of bed and began to dress.
When I picked up my stocking I felt some lumpy article inside of it. With the thought that a garter had gotten inside I ran my hand down within the silken sheath but instead of a garter I retrieved a crumpled five pound note. I smoothed it out and gazed at it incredulously. I had never possessed that much money at one time in my entire life. And yet, when I picked up the second stocking there was another note of the same denomination in that one also.
Ten pounds! A veritable fortune.
I forgot both my headache and the uneasiness as to what the consequences of my all-night absence might be. I hurried through my dressing, tarried but a moment in the beautiful bathroom, and rang the bell.
The domestic appeared immediately and led me downstairs and out to the street where a cab, already summoned, was waiting. In answer to the driver's query, I mentioned a corner a few blocks from where I lived, and when we reached this destination I got out and walked the rest of the way.
Mamma Agnes listened to my unconvincing story of having spent the night in the home of a girl friend in frigid silence, except for an observation to the effect that she only hoped the girl hadn't given me a dose of clapp or perhaps gotten me in a family way.
I was not discreet enough to hide the harvest of this adventure and my sudden acquisition of riches, flaunted in the form of resplendent new dresses, silk hose, modish slippers, a new hat and other articles of adornment, in the face of envious and resentful females of the neighborhood, brought a reprisal.
Upon information gratuitously submitted by a committee of righteous ladies I was taken into custody as a delinquent minor, and as a result of the investigation which transpired, I was first subjected to a physical examination of a most embarrassing nature, and then committed to a reformatory for wayward girls, destined to remain there until I became of age.