Monique was awakened by the sun, late in the morning. She put on a bathing suit and called for Jacques who was playing in the garden. With him she ran to the sea to bathe. They let the sun dry them, then crossed the lane to return to the villa but he stopped her by a bush, and pointing at her breasts under the brassiere of her bathing costume, he said:
“You promised me…”
She smiled and refused. He insisted, getting closer to her, she could feel his virility getting bigger under the material of his trunks. A strange feeling came in her mind, and in her body. She moved a little bit away from him, looked around and undid her brassiere. He contemplated her, stunned, as if he could not believe what his eyes saw. The two huge globes were pointing upwards, milky, round, perfectly horizontal, with their nipples a nice dark pink, a little bit elongated by the repeated deep suctions and other treatments that she suffered for years. They were like two of the hardest exotic fruits pointing on her palpitating body. Monique knew how beautiful her breasts were, how many times had she seen the desire in the wondering looks of the little girls, women, and also the few men who contemplated the naked torso. Even under the blouse they did not pass unnoticed. But also, what tortures did she have to endure because of those…
Jacques, his mouth dry with emotion, caressed with trembling fingers the hardened teats, then sucked greedily at the sensitive nipples. Sweet and soft sucking came first of all, then he got more demanding and voracious, as his hands were caressing the waist, the flat stomach, and the firm buttocks. Monique let the young boy use and abuse her flesh, but when she felt the excitation come in her too, she remembered the afternoon at the club…
“Be patient darling,” she said freeing herself with difficulties from the embrace of the child. “Let me go, let me… another time, I promise you, I will let you do anything… another time…”
She covered him with passionate kisses while the young fingers were caressing the huge globes and the lips posing everywhere on the salted skin.
She succeeded in freeing herself, but while she was putting her brassiere, he, always kneeling, was kissing the inside of her thighs, then her pubis. At last she got up and running with him to appease their senses, they went back to the villa.
She listened to the day's program from Sonia, whose tired eyes proved how delightfully hard the combat with Pierre must have been. She was annoyed to hear that people were expected at the villa in the afternoon, but, on the other hand, Sonia was going out the same night.
In the afternoon she took her nap, while waiting for the visitors. Naked on her bed, her eyes half closed, a cigarette between her lips, she reviewed the main events of her life.
It had been a very ordinary life. Her parents were not rich. She studied till she was twelve and that was all. Then her father died. The mother, a very young, good musician, suffered from the loneliness of her condition, but because of her beauty, she was surrounded by a court of admirers. Certain of those admirers, Monique understood later, financially helped her, and received in exchange the mother's embrace. But it was all very discreet and tactful.
Monique was a big girl, physically quite advanced for her age. Her shape was full of promise and very often she was the subject of the attention of her mother's friends. In the beginning, Monique did not react, did not understand-then a vicious friend of hers educated her, and revealed to her Sapphic pleasures which developed very rapidly in her a taste for voluptuousness.
Through that bias, she understood the attraction of one body for another body, particularly by means of her breasts and buttocks. She understood the meaning of men's caresses in spite of a certain innocence as to what use could be made of her sex out of the caresses of an expert tongue. She thought that that was the highest peak that one could reach in pleasure through sex, and that nothing else was to be expected from it. As she was logical, she gave the caress back, in spite of the fact that she did not like to do it as much as to receive it. She learned how to make her body look better with the little lingerie that she had. Another girl friend, a schoolmate with richer parents, gave her a grand taste for delicate underclothes and in spite of her very young age, she often admired her own modest lingerie in the mirror.
This was not unnoticed by the house's familiars. One of the men, more audacious, taking less care of the mother, reported his diligent attention. One night she went with her mother and another friend, to this man's house for dinner. After the dinner, as everyone was gay and happy from the meal and the fine wines, she went out with the old friend, while her mother and the other guest went into the garden, apparently to chit chat. As soon as Monique and the man were alone together, he drew her close to him. He put his hand into her blouse and touched the already round and firm breasts under the brassiere. She let him do it half out of curiosity and half out of vice, and it excited her. He was talking slowly, gently, tenderly, and when he slid his hand under the short skirt, she let him crumple the little pants. She felt the air on her naked buttocks, on her belly, on her naked thighs. With her thighs closed together at first, she let him caress her propped bottom. She resisted a long moment, scared by the finger that was trying to insinuate itself between her thighs, and gave up under its lascivious caress. He was gentle, not brutal at all. He was expert in the art of caressing Monique's little rose, pointed, hardened, and damp. She let pleasure engulf her, half troubled by the wines and by the perverse caresses. Everything was turning around her, as in a merry-go-round.
He took off the little leather belt, and before she could protest, lifted up skirt and slip, up to the neck. He rapidly admired in the moonlight the body precociously formed; and he sucked at the breasts and gave a few crazy caresses…
Then he let her dress herself again, silent, ashamed. Then he took her in his arms and quieted her, as she nervously had started crying. He dried her tears and promised her all kind of things. They walked together back to the house and met the guests. Someone was very busy behind some bushes with Monique's mother. When she saw the couple, she readjusted her blouse and skirt very quickly, but not quickly enough for her daughter not to notice it… the little girl dwelt a long time on what she had seen. She then compared herself to her mother and in her mind came a new conception of existence. Then she came back and hugged her mother without resenting in the least what she had just discovered.
More than once she had to bear the caresses of the old friend; either a furtive touch on her naked buttocks under the dress, or, when more at ease, he could open her blouse and suck at the already huge bosom. But it took long months before he could bring her to his place and turn her over on a sofa. Then only he was able to suck at the young sex that nothing but the tongues and fingers of her little friends had polluted before.
She loved that moment of passivity of abandon, when the nakedness of her belly and of her most intimate spots was unveiled and offered to the looks of the man. She hardly sighed when he dug his forefinger between her buttocks, dilating the curled mouth that had never been penetrated by anything other than the nozzles of the enemas she had received when ill. He had to restrain himself in order not to scare her by too many strong advances the first day; he had to wait until she lost the last remnants of modesty remaining to her. One day, a Thursday, she found him naked in a bathrobe. Her will subdued by long caresses, her body aching from desire after the repeated suckings that drew constant cries from her dry throat and distorted her body in the most provocative postures, she did not refuse to caress the erected phallus, to take it between her virgin lips, to put her tongue on the hard end while the man with his finger was dampening his hand and preparing her little asshole for a monstrous assault.
When he felt that the hole was softened enough, he moved his tool out of the little girl's mouth, bent over her without touching her, put his prick on the opulent globes of her buttocks and slowly insinuated it in the slit that separated them. He moved slowly trying to find the hole, and suddenly he felt it at the tip of his tool. He held his breath, hardly moving while Monique, her heart beating at full speed, was waiting. She did not know, not yet. He slowly pushed in, and the supple yet powerful pole penetrated a few millimeters. He pushed harder, dilating the little ring of flesh that slowly encircled his member. As he pushed pain flashed through Monique's flesh. She sighed and looked at the man with anxiety in her eyes. He read in her eyes that she was scared, but the male's desire was horrible. He felt that she wanted to move away, thought that after that test it all would be over, that she would never accept to do it again. He wanted rape. He took her by the shoulders, whispering love words and pushing, always pushing his member ahead in the contracted and resistant flesh. The member seemed to be bending. Monique was half crying. No, no, not there. You are hurting me! I want to go. Let me go.
Then he got scared-he grabbed her by the buttocks and with one violent thrust he pushed with all his strength. A horrible shout came out of the girl's mouth, soon covered by the mouth of the man. The man's belly was glued to the little girl's pubis, his testicles squeezed against her buttocks. His member was in her ass up to the hilt.
There was an instant of silence. The man could feel the child's heart beat under her chest, then tears, hollering. He could not master his nerves; he grabbed the girl's wrists to stop her hands from lacerating his back. He choked her with his sucking mouth and with long and powerful moves, he sodomized the young girl. It was a rape that she remembered long after it was committed. When he finally let her go, after letting his greasy sap splurt in her asshole, she got up. Her face was hostile. Without a word she dressed herself as he smoked a cigarette. Then she looked at the room where she had spent some unforgettable moments, and that now horrified her. She looked him straight in the eyes and despisingly just said one word: “Imbecile!” The word seemed to contain as many regrets for the brutally lost dream, as distaste for the stupid and too voracious male.
Ever after that day she avoided his company; in spite of his gifts and promises she never went back to his house. But at the same time she attracted the attention of her mother's lover. Sometimes, and more often every week, he used to come a little bit before the time when he thought that he would meet his mistress, just to talk with Monique who always stayed at home. Half vice, half jealousy, she accepted the game, and soon enough Jef (that was the man's name) had the right to caress the pulpy buttocks and the well developed bosom under the thin material of the blouse. Then one day he could put his lips on the clitoris, hardened and pointing under the exciting caress… Fast and unquiet embrace because of the possibility of her mother's return. It was the only time, because her mother soon realized which body was most attractive in Jef's mind, and after the vacations Monique was sent to a boarding school away from Paris…
Monique stretched on her bed, got up, looked by the window at the silent garden under the sun of that hot afternoon… Her fingers caressed her hardened bosom. She lit another cigarette, went back to her bed, and let the souvenirs come back to her memory.
Thirteen, fourteen… fifteen, three birthdays that she spent in a convent. Intelligent she passed over one year, and was admitted with the “seniors”. That was a moment in her sexual life. With the age the passions were stronger and the perversions were displayed with more courage. First of all it was nothing but little jealousies that found her one day, lying on her bed, with four pupils holding her crucified members lying on her belly, while a “senior” was spanking her buttocks. Solange was there finding a revenge for some petty mistake of Monique… Her buttocks reddened by the correction, burning hot, and after that she had to support five times the sucking of her breasts and her sex, each time up to the spasm.
Then sixteen, the year of the Baccalaureat (French graduation) work, and also mourning — her mother died one night from a heart attack. Monique arrived home too late to see her. Deep sorrow. Her Aunt Sonia was named her legal tutor. There was no fortune, happily enough, to pay for the second part of her graduation.
And work started again. Monique, understanding quite well her situation, worked with all her strength. Nothing happened but the caresses and embraces of her little friends, in love with her breasts and sex.
Then the vacations by the Mediterranean seaside, alone, with only little Jacques as companion. She was more a tutor than a playmate.
Then again the convent, with the same rite, the same embraces, the same work, and the success at the end of the road for her exams. Once again other vacations-more agitation this time-with the desire of the male around her silent at first, then more insinuating and precise every day. The least caress, the least suggestion was awakening powerful sensations in her body. And at last the embrace of a little girl friend-her partner in swimming and sports games that soon also became her partner in other games. Brutal and greedy was the embrace that found them every night on the dunes where their tempers allowed them to repeated caresses, embraces during which, little by little, Monique indulged in letting her body be flagellated by supple and long seaweeds. Peggy (that was the girl's name) had that vice, that passion, to hurt and whip the buttocks of her little friends. She also did it with her hands, seeming to find a special pleasure in hearing the noise of her dry hands on the fleshy buttocks. In Monique Peggy found a very gifted disciple. One day, because her hands were burning after a solid spanking, Peggy had to stop. Monique suggested her to take a branch of Tamaris, and Peggy manipulated that whip with dexterity; soon, Monique's bottom was looking like a red sphere, and when the branch had lost all its leaves, she ordered Monique to turn over, and opening the compass of her round thighs, she sucked avidly the offered and damp sex.