Early in this century when I was about 45, I made up my mind to go around the world again as I had done twenty-odd years before and study those parts of itIndia, China and Japanwhich I had missed before. By this time in my life I realized distinctly that I liked young girls more than I ought to like them. The girlish form before the characteristics of sex become mature attracts me intensely.
One evening in London, a friend advised me to visit India, assuring me that my peculiarity was dominant there. I started for India determined to see all there was to be seen and, if my friend was indeed correct, to indulge myself whenever the temptation became overpowering.
Going through the Red Sea in September, the heat was terrific; the women passengers for the most part chose to sleep on deck in armchairs and, as the temperature rose, their clothing grew slighter and slighter. I had got to know a Mrs. Wilson and her daughter of eighteen going out to join the husband and father, a civil servant in Bombay. Mrs. Wilson was pretty, well-read and enthusiastic about my writings, with which she was familiar. The girl, Winnie, was far prettier with an adolescent figure on the verge of womanhood and the loveliest dark brown eyes. I thought her almost a perfect beauty, with her girlish outlines and entrancing face. How to win her! Naturally I began by paying attention to her and dispensing compliments of all sorts at every opportunity. I found she loved music, so I talked to her of Wagner and Liszt for an hour at a time. One day I stated the thesis that perfect beauty such as hers must be the outward and visible sign of a perfect soul. “You must live up to it,” I said, “and in ten years you will be famous. You will make all men adore you. We all long for perfection and never find itit is the passion of the soul.”
We soon became friends, till one day Mrs. Wilson took me to task: “You are turning Winnie's head,” she said, “and it really isn't fair of you.”
“I shall do her no harm, I promise you,” I said. “I only tell her she must make her spirit as perfect as her face.
“She is pretty, isn't she?” said the mother.
“A charming girl,” we both agreed. All the while I was thinking about how I could win her. More specifically, I was scheming how I could fuck her. There was nothing I wanted more than to plunge my throbbing cock into her tight little receptacleto feel her moving beneath me as I shuttled in and out until she screamed for me to stop. I could imagine how my swollen shaft would stretch her pussy lips and how the grasping walls of her sheath would feel as I penetrated inch by inch. I wanted to bury myself in her until my balls slapped her upturned buttocks with each ramming stroke. I determined I would make my fantasy real, for I could not long endure the demands of my painfully hardened pole.
Our cabins were on the same floor. Due to the thinness of the walls, I often heard Winnie's girlish voice raised in conversation with her master. Once I even heard Winnie complaining that she had to wait for her bath. A thought immediately flashed through my mind and I called the steward, gave him a liberal tip, and asked him to speed up the stewardess and get her to tell me when the bath was ready. In a quarter of an hour the stewardess, quite an attractive woman herself, told me that the young lady's bath was ready.” I gave her a good tip and begged her to keep hot towels for the girl when she emerged; she promised eagerly, showing that tips of gold coin were scarce. I went to the neighboring cabin, tapped at the door and told Winnie that her bath was ready, disguising my voice as I spoke. Then I fled back to my room.
In five minutes the stewardess came to me. “If you'd like to see her,” she said in a whisper, “I can show her to you.”
“Really?” I cried. “I'd like nothing better.” I followed her to the adjacent bathroom where through a knothole one had a complete view of the bath and the pretty bather.
“Go in,” I whispered to the stewardess after feasting my eyes for a while. “Go in and help her to dry herself and show me all her beauties, even the most secreteverything. I'll pay properly.”
The stewardess smiled, went in, and began to soap Winnie's back, keeping her front towards my knothole. She had delicious breasts, large, full, and free of the effects of gravity. Her nipples were large and covered the end of each delectable globe. These buds were now fully erect from the chill in the cabin. Then after putting a big towel about her shoulders, the stewardess made her put up one leg at a time to get her feet dried. As Winnie stood with a foot on the edge of the bath, I thought I had never seen anything lovelier. The blood burned in my cheeks. As curve after subtle curve was revealed, I grew wild with desire to touch and kiss. My cock stiffened from my almost uncontrollable desire to bury myself in her slit. The pretty stewardess played her part to perfection. While she dried the right leg, she drew it apart so that the whole of Winnie's cunt was exposed to my eyes. Just as I thought I could stand no more, she began patting those puffy pink lips very gently with the towel before helping Winnie out of the bath and beginning to dry the other leg.
“You have never been touched there,” she said to the girl, and suited the action to the word.
“No, indeed,” said Winnie. “Mama took me away from school because one of the mistresses liked me too much and often expressed an interest in inserting her fingers into my cunny.”
“Oh well,” said the stewardess, “one of these days some man will have a treat, for I have never seen a prettier form.”
And she was right. Winnie's body was superlativeperfection perfected
“The gentleman who asked that I administer your bath,” the clever stewardess went on, “is in love with you, I guess.”
“Really?” exclaimed Winnie flushing a little. “Who might he be?”
“Well, we all like him,” said the stewardess. “He's the best tipper on board. Take my advice: Be nice to him. You won't regret it. In fact, he's in the cabin next to yours.”
This time I was sure Winnie flushed with pleasure. “I like him too,” she said simply and began looking for her bathrobe.
In two minutes I was back in my room. As she passed I opened the door: “Had a good bath?” I said smiling.
“Excellent,” said Winnie passing with the bath towel still about her.
I drew a piece of the neck open. “I wish I could see your figure,” I cried. “I'm sure you are lovely.” Her brows drew together in a little frown, so I just stooped and kissed her hand and she ran on.
While I was thinking it all over, I recalled a little black spotprobably a birthmarkhigh upon her right buttock. Suddenly it occurred to me I could use this knowledge to break down her modesty. I resolved to try on the morrow. Of course I rewarded the stewardess as soon as we met and she told me without beating about the bush that there was a girl in the steerage at least as pretty as Winnie.
“Shall I bring her up and give her a bath, sir? She'd be glad to come, I'm sure.”
“All right,” I said. “There's no hurry for a day or two. I'll let you know.”
Next day, while walking the deck with Winnie, I told her I had had a great dream: “You came to me,” I said, “just as you were after the bathnude.” She pouted half in disbelief, half in disdain. “If I tell you something about yourself that I couldn't know,” I went on, “will you believe me and show yourself to me as in my dream?”
“I won't promise,” she said, “but I want to hear what you saw.”
“You have a little back mole there,” I went on, touching the right side of her hip, “and I want to see it, it's so cute!”
“I haven't,” she cried.
“Look when you undress tonight and you'll see I'm right.”
After lunch we were seated in the shade when she suddenly said: “You're right: there is a mole. I couldn't wait until tonight, so I looked. But how did you dream so exactly? That puzzles me.”
“Great affection,” I began as if musing, “has strange powers. I saw you, your luscious full breasts and your figure, all of it, every hair as clearly as if you were undressed before me now. Someday you'll let me see you, won't you?”
“I don't know,” she replied. “You're a strange man, “but you interest me greatly. Why do you want to see me?”
“Your beauty intrigues me; surely you know that.” How could I tell her that I wanted to fuck her, that I wanted to wedge my stiff rod in her virgin slit?
“Men are funny creatures,” she began. “If I could dream like you do, I'd want to see your heart, to know whether you really care for me. I don't think the body is important.”
“Love is not born full-grown,” I replied. “It has to be won!”
“How? Tell me how!” she cried.
“Chiefly by giving of yourself,” I cleverly answered. And so the talk went on.
Next morning, as she came from the bath, I met her as before. When she smiled at me I drew her resolutely into my cabin and closed the door. “Show me,” I said, “please.” I drew her bathrobe from her neck. Luckily it slipped from her hand and fell right open.
I had one good look at her tits and muff, but Winnie at once pulled it together protesting, “That's unkind. I don't like that. Please let me go.” She spoke angrily so I opened the door with a mumbled apology and let her go, a little disappointed.
Five minutes later the stewardess knocked at my door and I gave her another sovereign almost mechanically.
“Thank you, sir, many thanks,” she said. “Might I say something?” she asked.
“Certainly,” I replied. “What is it?”
“Those young girls,” she went on, “they give themselves airs. They know nothing really. Take my advice, sir, leave Miss Winnie alone for a day or two; let her see you with Ethel Dodge of the second cabin, and she'll soon repent and change. Nothing like a bit of jealousy to make a girl kind,” she smiled. “Miss Winnie there thinks you belong to her and must do whatever she wishes. Even if she protests your, ah, special attentions,” she emphasized, “it's all part of her game. Once she sees you like another girl and the other likes you, she'll alter her tune, believe me.”
“I believe you,” I said, “but when can I see Miss Dodge?”
“Tomorrow, sir,” she said. “I've given her a bath and told her you were paying and she wants to thank you. She has a prettier figure than Miss Wilson if I'm a judge, even fuller and rounder; but you can see for yourself, if you like. I'll tap at your door tomorrow early; the knothole is still there,” she laughed.
“You are a wonder,” I said. “All right then, I'll expect you about eight tomorrow morning and I'll tell you what I think of Miss Dodge.”
“Let her come to your cabin afterwards, to thank you,” said the cunning stewardess, “and let Miss Wilson hear you together. I'll give her a hint that she'll lose you if she doesn't take care. I guarantee you'll have no more trouble.”
“You are a magician,” I applauded her. “Conduct the campaign as you think best and take this for your pains.” I gave her a five pound note.
“Thank you, sir, thank you,” she cried.
“That's only the beginning,” I said. “If you succeed, well, we've a few more days of generous 'thank-yous' to come.”
“You'll have 'em both, sir, trust me. You'll be plowing those fields before you think on it.” And she vanished, smiling, through the door.
The next morning I saw Ethel Dodge through the knothole. She was slim and shapely with wide breasts, pert nipples, flaring hips, and a thick mossing of dark hair on her mount. She was so attractive that I wanted her to come to my cabin as she came from the bath. The stewardess introduced me and Ethel seemed willing to be friends. Yes, she was pretty and well-made, but not as lovely, or as young as Winnie. She needed money, however, as she was going to be married. She confessed at once that she loved love and was not averse to earning moneyin whatever manneron her voyage. While we were talking, I heard the stewardess tap lightly on the door; whoever was passing must have heard us laugh. Ethel plainly told me she was at my service for she liked me greatly.
“No nonsense about you, that's what I like,” she added.
When I met Winnie on deck half an hour later, she was very cold to me, so I merely bowed and smiled and passed on. A little later, while I was pacing the deck, she stopped me.
“I suppose you're proud of your new conquest?” she huffed.
“No,” I replied, “I've made no conquest new or old.”
“Yet I heard you both laughing in your room as I passed,” she replied.
“Possibly,” I said, “but that proves nothing.”
“You probably took off her bathrobe and fondled her breasts andand" Winnie said passionately.
“I didn't even want to,” I answered.
“I wish I could believe that,” she cried with intense feeling in voice and looks. As luck would have it, we had reached the forecastle and were clean out of sight and hearing of the rest of the passengers. I put my arm around her waist, drew her to me strongly and kissed her lips. While my mouth was on hers, her arms went around my neck and she murmured, “Then you do love me best?”
“You alone,” I whispered passionately. “Promise that you'll come tomorrow morning and you'll find me waiting, longing for you.”
“I'll come,” she said, all her soul in her eyes. “You don't know how I suffered this morning when I heard your two voices and that stewardess had just told me how Miss what's her name was after you. Oh, Frank, be good to me! I love you more than I can say, you dear!” and our lips clung together in a long, long kiss.
The next morning I was at the knothole when Winnie was bathing and I noticed that she was very reserved with the stewardess. I augured happiness from her reserve. I therefore hastened back to my cabin and of course met her at the door. I drew her over to my bed and without a word took off her bathrobe. I saw at once she was very nervous and afraid, so I lay down with her after covering us both with the quilt and began to kiss her and talk just to reassure her. When I saw that I had succeeded, I let my hands stray. Then I began kissing her breasts while praising their beauty and soon my right hand began caressing her pussy. Even this first time she was far more responsive than I had dared to hope, for she thrust her hips up against the pressure exerted by the hand against her mount. But when in a moment she clung to me kissing me, I said: “You must fear nothing that I do. I wouldn't think of giving pain or putting you in any danger; just trust me and you'll find I'll lead you from delight to ecstasy.”
I pushed up the quilt and revealed her naked body. It was exquisite, and I could feel my manhood stirring against my leg at the sight of her heaving breasts, engorged nipple buds, and lightly mossed mount.
I began kissing her, commencing at the graceful curve of her neck and slowly progressing downward. I lingered over her tits, swirling my tongue around the turgid peaks and sweeping under the fullness of the ripening globes. I took each nipple in turn into my mouth, teasing the tender flesh and worrying it as a dog would a bone. The buds rose under my ministrations, matching the rise of my pulsating cock.
I continued my downward trek, lashing her belly with wet strokes, pausing at the softness of her rounded hips. My hands found her breasts as I hovered above her cunt. I lingered for just a moment to increase the suspense, pinning her with my eyes as I was about to with my tongue. She watched me with rapt, lustful interest, then closed her eyes and gasped as I lowered myself to her slit. I stiffened my tongue and plunged it inside her, mimicking what I wished to do with my prick.
She began to writhe with pleasure, pushing her hips up against my face, urging me to penetrate her more deeply, trying to pull me into her center of pleasure. I was happy to oblige and stretched my tongue to the utmost, scouring the conch-like softness of her inner pussy lips, then flicking in and out of her in a quick fucking motion. She moaned and ran her fingers through my hair as I squeezed her tits and pinched her nipples between my fingers. I found her clit and laved it thoroughly until it stood up quivering.
By now Winnie was fairly crying out for me to finish her. Her taut young body trembled all over as she felt waves of delight rolling over her. My face mashed into her pussy, I continued to lick her, alternating my attentions to her love bud with the stabbing movements that buried my tongue inside her. She began to jerk and undulate beneath me as she whimpered about the flood that was being released in her belly. A moment later she inundated my tongue and lips with the pearly nectar of her passion.
“Well,” I said taking her in my arms, “are you content to trust me now?”
She nodded while her great brown eyes thanked me. “But, but”
“But what?” I asked.
“Does doing that give you pleasure?” she replied.
“You darling,” I cried, “how like you to want to give me delight. That's for a later lesson,” I went on, “when you are as sure of me as of yourself.”
“You don't need to wait,” she said saucily. “I'm more than sure that I have the dearest, best lover in the world.”
“Do you know how long we've been here?” I smiled. “It's after ten and your mother may come to look in on you.”
“Really?” she cried. “Oh, I must get up.” As she rose I kissed the mole that had helped me to such delight. A moment later she had gone and I began to dress.
The stewardess came in that evening for her reward and I gave her another note and talked to her of her protege, Miss Ethel. She liked me sincerely, it appeared, and was quite willing to be my lover. I found the stewardess very wise indeed and eager to help me in every way. We had a long talk and at the end she told me more of India and the girls of that country than I could have learned in a hundred books.
“If you like young girls, sir,” she began, “India is the happy hunting ground for you. They are nearly all married by adolescence. Of course, it's really a terrible place for girls. They are often married before they are women, and the midwives who attend them in confinement are a fearful bunch, dirty and cruel and ignorant.
“Then, you know, when the husband of fifty or sixty dies, there is nothing for the widowed girl to do but become a prostitute to support herself.” She smiled and winked at me. “Of course, you'll have to have me with you. I know Bombay and the bazaar like the back of my hand. I can get you whatever you want and I'll take care there are no evil consequences. You can rely on me.”
“I do,” I replied sincerely. “I regard it as a great piece of luck to have met you.
“I have done nothing yet,” she resumed, “but in Bombay I can be of the greatest service to you.” On this understanding we parted for the moment.
That night Winnie came to my cabin.
“I mustn't stay long,” she began, “Mother might find out.”
“Just do as you wish,” I replied, taking her in my arms and kissing her. “We can always have our hour in the morning,” and I lifted her into the bed. How shall I describe her! Let my reader think of a classical statue in warm flesh and blood. After kissing her mouth and then her neck and breasts, I moved down to the junction of her thighs and soon found that she responded far more passionately than the first time I'd licked that mossy grotto. I repeated the previous performance, wetting her thoroughly around her luscious mount and lathering her pink little slit until the nub of her clit was upstanding and begging for further attention. I caught it between my teeth and pulled on it gently while Winnie gasped and moaned. My fingers separated the folds of her labia and I dove inside with my tongue, tantalizing her again with insistent stabbing strokes. I kept on kissing for perhaps a quarter of an hour till she began to shake convulsively and tried to lift my head. At once I got up and went to her mouth, but could not help seeing on the way that her taut little cunt was now quite open, round and red.
“Take me,” she said, “I want to make you enjoy as I do; I want us to go mad together.”
At once I put my cock in her hand and she directed it to her entrance. “If it hurts too much,” I said, “stop me; I can't bear to give you pain.”
And indeed this has been a characteristic of mine during practically all my life; being extremely forceful in love is almost unthinkable to me. I always prefer to leave a good deal to the initiative of the woman. If she loves you, she will endure a good deal of suffering to give you pleasure.
I squirmed about, focusing on my delightful target as I had dreamed I would these many nights. I thrust at first a bit high, then a bit low, until I felt myself welcomed by the widening folds of moist flesh like the bud of a flower opening to the penetrating rays of the sun.
I edged the head of my meatpole slowly inside the tight slit, pausing to fully enjoy the tingling sensations that began to course through my body. I could tell by her moans and cries that Winnie experienced much the same thing as I edged my rod into that resisting channel. I was only part way inside her when I met her virgin barrier. Though I abhorred the thought of causing this voluptuous maiden any pain whatsoever, I knew the moment for force had come. My cock felt rock hard and irresistible as I reared back at the hips and thrust forward. I rammed against her hymen, pulled back and repeated the motion. Much to my surprise, after flinching during my initial plunge, Winnie moved forward to meet my thrust. Our combined action swept away any impediment and, with a cry of joy from both our lips, I was in her to the hilt. It was as I had envisioned it, tight and grasping and so very warm and inviting. The head of my cock seemed alive with sensation as I began to fuck her.
I thrust slowly and gently as I could, though my brave lover seemed to take little notice of the pain. She seemed a natural for this game and wrapped her legs around my back so as to draw me more deeply inside her moistening canal.
“Don't be afraid to be too rough,” she whispered.
That was the only invitation I needed; I proceeded to explore her innermost recesses with a frenzied determination that had our bellies slapping together and my balls tickling her bottom. I fucked her long and hard, rotating my hips so as to widen her while I continued to plunge in and out of her no-longer-virgin pussy. She seemed to enjoy it most of all when I pulled out of her almost to the tip of the head, then rammed into her as though the moment of ultimate pleasure would be denied me. Of course, in such a tight sheathe, it would not have been denied anyone in a short period of time. I was no exception. I already could feel my shaft and head swelling to the point of bursting from the exquisite stimulation of her contracting pussy walls.
In a few moments we were both bathed in exquisite mutual delight.
“Do you love me?” was her first question. “Am I a good lover?”
“You are a divine mistress and lover,” I said. “You are much more passionate than I had imagined.”
After another bout or two of kissing and caressing Winnie resolved to get back to her room. I went with her till she sent me back with an imperious dismissal.
In my bed I relived every moment, again and again, dwelt on every incident, every word and movement of Winnie's, until suddenly I saw the light in the port and knew it was morning. Then I fell into a deep sleep and awoke about eight and forthwith thought of the bath and the knothole. Alas! Winnie was not there nor was the stewardess for the moment. However, I knew I would see the stewardess some time in the afternoon and I wanted another talk, for she interested me and I had no idea yet how she had acquired her extraordinary knowledge of India.
That afternoon I found that Mrs. Redfern, the stewardess, was not unwilling to talk of her past experiences. She had lived ten years in Bombay as the wife of a noncommissioned officer who later got a post under the government. After her husband died, she did some nursing and so grew to know Indian conditions from the inside. She told me that the life of most of the girl-wives was appalling; three out of every six died in their first pregnancy through the unsanitary conditions and fearful dirt of the midwives. The children of these girls were almost invariably undersized weaklings. She had hardly ever met a wife of some years standing who was not diseased. She assured me, however, that she could easily find a young widow who was perfectly well and would please the most fastidious gentleman. I told her I would take her as my guide and guardian.
Once or twice she came back to her belief that Ethel would be a very attractive mistress. I must make a confession. Since I had enjoyed Winnie and the novelty was worn off, I often found myself desiring Ethel's more opulent beauty. What devil is it in men that makes them desire the untried? I cared for Winnie, esteemed her more than I could ever esteem Ethel, knew that she was incomparably prettier, and yet I commenced to desire Ethel in spite of all reason. I wanted to crush her generous tits with my hands, and sample the pleasures of what would undoubtedly be a comfortable and practiced pussy.
That same evening, the charming and providential Mrs. Redfern caught me in my cabin and proposed that Ethel should come to me that night.
“Not in this cabin,” I said, thinking Winnie might seek my company here.
“I'll put her two doors away, in number 17,” she replied, “and if you wish to visit her, the door will not be locked against you.”
I laughed and thanked her, but asked her to put Ethel off for a night or so, then gave her another gold tip and went my way.
In my cabin late that evening I hesitated. If Winnie had come I'd have been content. Why didn't she? I could not guess, but I began to want more and more the heavier hips, fuller breasts, and more luscious mouth of Ethel.
At eleven Winnie finally came but she was ill. Through the intense excitement, she said, her monthlies had come on long before it was due. I kissed her and consoled her and accompanied her back to her room.
The next night, when I knew Winnie would not come, I went to No. 17, opened the door and turned on the light. Ethel was in bed awaiting me. I locked the door and drew back the covers. Her nightie was in the way; I threw it up and climbed atop
Aren't you going to strip for me first, dear?” she said.
“Of course,” I gasped, overcome by her beauty. My eyes were drawn to the thick mossing between her legs and by the way her tits hung large and pendulous on her chest. My cock was erect as I drew off my trousers and let it spring free. It bobbed before Ethel's delighted eyes and she grabbed it as I pulled my shirt over my head. She began tugging it, reveling in the way it grew and stiffened as she led me to the bed.
When we lay down, I was startled when she turned me over on my back and raised herself up slightly while holding my lance upright with one hand. Acrobatically, she spread her legs, positioning my rampant tool, and then impaled herself on it. My cock was fully buried in her as she let her full weight fall on my belly. It was wonderful the way her pussy grasped my organ and played it. She moved up and down, eyes closed, seemingly aware of nothing as she rode me. I tried to thrust up to meet her, but she controlled the tempo expertly and I finally lay back and let her have her way. When she sensed I was becoming too excited and would soon eject a copious amount of sperm into her, she slowed, allowing the flood to recede only to release it once again with greater fury. At last, overcome by her own sensations, she began to pound her pussy against my cock as fast and as hard as she could. Her nipples thrust outward long and hard; her breasts bounced with each bucking descent on my ramrod. As she began to come, I reached down and nimbly inserted a finger between her buttocks. This additional stimulus sent her over the edge. She began to spasm uncontrollably as her pearly juices began to run down her thighs and onto mine. I pumped a hot injection into her immediately thereafter. She finally fell upon my chest, totally exhausted.
Resting beside this gorgeous nude woman, I contemplated her charms. I found Ethel quite as passionate as Winnie, but in a more selfish way; excited fully, she thought more of her pleasure than of mine while Winnie had always her lover's delight in mind. She was of far commoner origin; she would not talk of her feelings, thinking I would wish to forget all about the act as soon as it was over.
The last night before reaching Bombay, Winnie came to me and we had a long talk and arranged to meet. She could not do without me, she said, and begged me to be nice to her father so that we might meet easily. I swore I would be as pleasant as I could beand next day I saw her and her mother safely to their carriage.
I went to the hotel recommended by Mrs. Redfern who also took up her abode there. The second evening, she brought me a young girl of seventeena widowrather pretty but immature and inexperienced. When we were alone, I nearly tore her clothes from her. Her cunt was small and tight, but she had little response to passion in her; she seemed afraid to complain and didn't enjoy what we were doing.
I fucked her anyway, curious to see if any position that I chose would give her the admittedly minimal pleasure that I felt. I laid her upon her back and penetrated her in that fashion, then threw her legs over my shoulders and drove my cock forcefully into her, but there was no reaction. Because of this disinterest, I was able to maintain my composure for a longer time than usual, and so I continued to experiment. I turned on my back and lowered her onto my joystick as Ethel had done, then finally turned her over and entered her cunt from behind, cushioning my hard strokes on the soft rondures of her buttocks. It was all to no avail. Finally, I was so exasperated that I simply had her suck me until I exploded in her mouth. She didn't draw out the experience; her head bobbed up and down dutifully until she drew my passion from me and swallowed it expressionlessly. I couldn't even be angry about it; I was merely disappointed.
The girl was happy for the first time when I paid her.
Mrs. Redfern could only say, “Better luck next time,” but the better luck seldom materialized. Time and again she brought pretty young girls, but we could not converse and there was an awkwardness over the whole affair. Several of them even had all their pussy hairs taken off which seemed to increase their youthfulness. The experience cured me of my liking for the immature. Even the best of them failed to give me the thrill I had experienced with older girls. The cunt was often very tight; but it had not the gripping, pumping power of the mature woman's. I'd found that some older women, especially in France, use all the contractive power of their pussy and the movement of the hips to increase the throes of pleasure. A woman from twenty on, gifted with passion and in love with you, gives more pleasure than almost any girl.
It is strange that nearly everywhere women think that the whole art of love on their part is summed up in surrender. To excite the man, to give him the utmost thrill of pleasure, to respond at least to his desire passionately, never seems to occur to the average woman anywhere except in Japan, sometimes in China, and often in that garden of India, Ceylon. But with the young women in India proper, there is rarely any response, and Mrs. Redfern confessed to me that nearly all the older girls of 20 to 25 were diseased or had had some disease.
I didn't mind curtailing my activities with those girls, for one day Winnie came to my rooms and found me in and we had another long talk, after which she left without engaging in any of those acts I so dearly wished to repeat with her. She promised we would soon enough.
Perhaps I have not done enough to portray each of the girls I have had love-duets with. I am resolved at least to try and give their view of life and the love episodes.
In some way or other the freshness of youth made some of them more vivid to me. But others in maturity made a deathless impression on me and I do not want to pass them over without outlining their very souls. Many were kindlier, more loving and more generous than could be imagined at least by me, and these surely deserve to be saved from oblivion.
I remember one in particular in the South of France, who gave herself to me so simply, so easily that I did not at all realize that she was possessed by the very spirit of love. She was of good family and I soon found that her reckless abandon in sexual things was so complete that it was almost certain to lead to pregnancy. This frightened me. I knew and esteemed her mother and father and I was not free at the time, nor could I hope to free myself in any reasonable time; so I drew away from her the more resolutely because my passion grew so intense that I knew if I gave way to it, the result would be disaster.
Years later I met her. She had married and was happy, yet there was between us an instinctive sympathy, an attachment of heart and mind and soul that fills me with reverence for the spirit of pure love in her. She was so wise and yet so enthusiastic, so capable of devotion and yet free of all superstition. And when she told me that her yielding at first was wholly free of sensuality, that all she wanted was to please and content and if possible delight me, I remembered little things that convinced me the confession was wholly true. She had not weighed consequences, nor thought of disgrace: It was enough for her to love and to give herself to love, body and soul. I never met a nobler nature. Many years later when we met again, she showed me a generosity and a desire to help me in every way that filled me with shame at my unworthiness. There are some women nobler than men and I thank God I have met one or two of them that have heightened my estimate of the possibilities of human goodness.