The other boy whom I mentioned, as I recollect, lived several doors from us on the same street. His name was Shani. I liked him very much. He was thirteen years of age, pale and slender and very handsome, with dark eyes and hair. We were accustomed to bid each other the time of day as we passed, but aside from this had held no conversation. Since he was in the same class at school as my brother, Lorenz, and very friendly with him, I feared to attempt what was in my mind. I felt that he must be very chaste like Lorenz. He often visited Lorenz, but he always was so sober and grave that I feared to start anything with him, albeit he was very friendly with me. He happened to come one afternoon when Lorenz and Franz had gone somewhere to deliver a message. I knew they would be some time, and mother was busy in the laundry. Needless to say, I planned to put the time to good use. I informed Shani that Lorenz was not home. Then, as he started to leave, I asked him to come in and stay a while. He hesitated. I then fibbed a little, saying that Lorenz would soon return, and since he still seemed a little hesitant, I told him that I was afraid to stay alone. He then reluctantly came in.
We both were very bashful and embarrassed. But I took him from the kitchen into the living room, and, after a time our bashfulness wore off. He said nothing; I also remained silent. I snuggled close to him. He smiled at me. I put my arms around his neck, rubbing my body closely against his. I thought that with this encouragement he would surely feel my kitten or take out his tool and put it in my hands. But he did neither; simply stood still and smiled.
This was too slow. I went to bed, lay down on my back and said: “Come over here!” As he slowly approached, I began to raise my dress, saying: “Now you don't see anything.” I raised them a little higher. “Still you see nothing.” He sat perfectly still and showed no interest whatever. I then raised my hem above my stockings. “Still, you see nothing!” He made no move, simply smiled bashfully. “But, now,” I called, as I completely uncovered the gem-I wore no panties that afternoon-“Now what?” He stood still while I waited. My excitement arose still higher as I realized that his sword would fit my scabbard just as Alois had. I was anxious to see it, to hold it, to feel it inside me! I reached for his trousers. He stepped back, saying in a low, sorrowful voice: “I can't do it!” “Why not?” as I jumped from the bed. “I just can't do it!” he whispered. “So show me!” I said, again reaching for his pants. “Show me why you can't.” He wanted to run away, but I held on. Reaching into his pants, I drew out his member. It was thin and very long. I noticed that the foreskin was drawn away back from the head, which was a new phenomenon to me, but the handsome machine could stand just as straight and stiff as any of them. I was so anxious to have this lovely object put in its proper place, that I immediately raised my dress, but he fought me off, saying: “Let me go, I can't do it!” “You can, too!” I said. “No, I cannot!” “You lie, you can, but you don't want to do it.”
“No I really can't,” he said in a sad tone. I was surprised by this demurrer and curious to know the reason. I asked him, but he turned away, put the splendid instrument back in his pants and buttoned them up again, saying: “It is impossible, I tell you!”
“My anger arose. “You lie! You don't want me! If you really don't just say so, but don't lie like that.” He came toward me. “I am not lying,” he said, caressing my cleft without raising my skirt. He hesitated a moment, then again said: “No, I simply cannot do it!”
“But why?” “On account of these damned women!” he blurted out. “What women?” “I have had to poke twice already today,” he said. “Who do you mean?” I asked. He repeated: “Twice already, and if I poke you now, I won't be able to do anything tonight, and she'll whip me.” “Who?” “My mother!” “Your mother?” “Yes.” “She will whip you if your shaft won't stand.” “Yes.” “But why? You don't mean to say that you poke your own mother.” “I must,” he said, now almost in tears. “These God-forsaken women, they are all alike.” “And you have poked her twice already?” “Oh, no. Her turn comes tonight.” “Well then, who do you poke?” “My sisters.” “Your sisters?”
“Yes, both of them. And if I poke you now, it will not stand for me tonight when I get in bed with my mother and then she'll know I poked Rosa and Wetti, and she'll whip me.” After saying so much, he decided to tell me the whole story, seeming to be much relieved to confide in someone. He had never known his father, who died when Shard was a baby. I had often seen his sisters and his mother, who was a small, thin, scrawny women with beautiful, black eyes and hair like her son. Rosa, the elder sister, was eighteen, blonde and slender, with lots of freckles and well-developed, pointed titties. Wetti, the younger sister, was sixteen, short and plump, with developed titties and a broad backside. This precocious girl had been seduced when only twelve years old by a book agent, who canvassed from house to house. Finding her alone at home one afternoon, he took advantage of the situation and enjoyed a healthy poke. He had not raped or forced her, by any means; she was perfectly willing to be seduced. She had started to develop quite young and was at that time already casting eyes at the men. Wetti one day told her brother Shani of the adventure, also showing him how the book agent had done it, and after that they often played at this game. Then, they were in the midst of their fun, Rosa surprised him. She stood quietly looking at them. They hastily jumped up fearing a good real thrashing. They thought Rosa would tell on them. But she simply asked: “What are you doing?” Not receiving any answer, she said no more, but that night, after the family had retired and Shani was sleeping in the same room, she called to him. As he came to her, she asked: “What were you doing to Wetti today? “Nothing!” “So…? Well at least you had her dress up and her titties out.” “Oh, we were just playing.”
“Show me how you played.” When he did not move, Rosa, lifting the covers, said: “Come in, lie down alongside of me.” And as he crawled into bed with his sister, he noticed that she was entirely naked. He at once began to play with those lovely titties which he had long admired. Rosa took hold of his shaft. She was so nervous that she could hardly talk. Shani had also become very much excited and passionate. Yet he was afraid, for heretofore he had poked Wetti only in the daytime, with all her clothes on. As a little boy, he had feared and respected Rosa, and it did not seem possible that he was now here in bed with her playing with her round, warm titties and she playing with his shaft. “Have you often done it to Wetti?” Rosa asked. “Yes,” he confessed, “often.” “Shall I tell mother?” she asked and fondled his stiff stalk. “No, please don't say anything,” he begged. She continued: “And now you are here in bed with me, playing with my titties and rubbing against me with your member. Just wait until I tell mother in the morning.” “Oh no. You can't say that, for you called me in. “Like fun I did. Mother will believe me before she will you. I'll tell her that you came over and tried to poke me, and I'll tell her you have been poking Wetti.”
At that she moved closer to him, again giving him her titties to play with. But, when he tried to get away, she held on to his member and said: “Stay her, you mutt. I won't say anything. Don't be afraid. I only want you to poke me too.” At that he climbed on top of her. She pushed his spear away up into her so that he could feel against his pelvis the lips and soft hair-cushion surrounding her grotto. But she was still a virgin, which made it very difficult. Finally, reaching behind her and pulling her to him, he gave one great push, and succeeded in getting inside. He reached the apex of passion at once! After groaning several times, Rosa, also seemed satisfied. She then sent him back to his own bed. The next morning he noticed blood spots on his shirt and Rosa told him they came from her maidenhead. It was only a short time until Wetti discovered what was going on between her brother and sister, night after night, so she joined them and now Shard had to take care of both sisters. Whether the mother suspected something from his pale appearance or whether she overheard the love-bouts during the night, Shani did not know, but one night, when he had fallen asleep in Rosa's bed, the mother came in, woke them and ordered Shani back to his own bed. In the morning she said: It is not proper for a boy to sleep with his own sisters.”
Rosa at once said: “He is afraid.” The mother then declared: “If he is afraid from now on, he shall sleep in my room.” So his bed was moved into his mother's bedroom beside her own. At night she came in and then stepped up close to him and hugged him tightly, so that he should not be frightened. She put his hands on her breasts and he played with them until he fell asleep. (Her breasts were not so large and round as his sister's, but, of course, they were well developed.) This went on for several nights, Shani becoming more courageous. One night she took him into bed with her and he snuggled up close to her and she noticed how stiff and hard his member was. She felt it against her side, felt it quiver. Pressing his hands against her breasts, he heard her cough nervously, moving away every time that his throbbing tool touched her bare thighs. But, after several nights of this sort of thing, when he rubbed the weapon against her she no longer moved. Instead, she slowly lowered her hand and began fondling him. Then, suddenly pulling him over her, she pushed the device up inside her, pressing her breasts against his face and whispering: “Now… push, my boy!… my own son… push!.. . Mother will let you!… Push. Push harder!… Faster!… My own son!… Faster!” Shani told me that from that night on he had to poke his mother at least twice a night, sometimes standing up, sometimes sideways, then from behind-in fact, in every conceivable way. His sisters soon discovered what was going on nightly; they were not afraid any more, but followed the poor boy all day, so that he was constantly forced to poke either his sisters or his mother in all possible positions and places. There was not a nook or corner in the house that they had not tackled him in. He had to poke them on chairs, on tables, on the floor, the kitchen bench, standing or lying, in all shapes and manners possible. The sisters had long since lost all sense of shame and soon took turns. Sometimes one of the two watched the performance and, as soon as it was finished, took his organ in her mouth, sucking and licking it to make it hard again so that she could get hers while the other sister looked on. In a short time the mother got reckless and joined with her daughters. At first, a lot of jealousy sprang up, but finally the trio agreed to share him equally, so that often the sisters would call him at night and the mother would let him go. After satisfying both the sisters, he would return. In the meantime, the mother would again have become passionate and, as soon as he returned, would start playing with him, taking his device in her mouth, doing everything possible to inspire another erection, so as to satisfy herself. Often, when Shani made the rounds of the three, his mother, watching the others, would force him to poke her again. This would make it four times in succession he was forced to undergo the exercise. The mother noticed that he was getting weak and haggard looking, so she forbade the girls using him during the daytime, and if she discovered that he had disobeyed her during the day and was unable to do his duty at night, she gave him a whipping. As he told me this story, growing angrier all the tune, damning the three women, I became more passionate. I tried, several times, to take hold of his tool, but he, in his quiet way, begged me to leave him alone. At last, I raised my skirts and forced him to play with my kitten, but to no avail. Suddenly we heard the kitchen door open, interrupting our conversation. I was shaking with passion and nervous fright. It was Mr. Eckhard, just returning home. Now my longing turned toward him, thinking that he must satisfy me! I dismissed Shani in such haste that he was astonished, not knowing what to think of such actions. I eagerly ran to Mr. Eckhard, whom I had avoided since my affair with Mr. Horak in the cellar and Alois in Clementina's lap. But now, in my present state, my passions aroused to the highest pitch, I certainly was pleased to see him! I thought of his spear, which I was curious to see and fondle again, of the endearments which he had bestowed upon me, and at the same time I thought of Shani's mother and sisters, of whom I now was heartily jealous, for they had a poke whenever they wanted one-forgetting all about Franz, my brother, who was now only too glad to poke me whenever I asked him. (But for a long time now he did not interest me.) I ran up to Mr. Eckhard and before he had time to speak I had my hand in his pants feeling for his device. Throwing my other arm around his neck, I whispered: “Hurry, hurry, before someone comes!” I felt him get hard, but he answered: “Hurry? What for? What do you want?” I was not bashful and he merely asked me so as to hear me say the words, and he well knew what I wanted. Without hesitation, I said: “I want to be poked by you. .. quickly!” Without further ado, Mr. Eckhard, trembling, threw himself onto me, nearly knocking me over. But I did not want it that way. Holding onto his shaft, I pulled him into the bedroom and threw myself on the bed. He was so intent on trying to force the great saber inside that he nearly split me. I could not stand this violent assault, so, reaching down, I cupped my hands around his tool, holding it just so that the head went in. The pleasure was heavenly. I felt the pulse beats in his long stalk and the head trembling in my slit.
He pushed and pumped. It was so delightful that I wondered how I could ever want for any other man but him. The pleasure was so exquisite that I called out: “Oh… just keep on… that is so good… poke me harder…!” Mr. Eckhard seemed to lose his senses when he finally squirted. He twitched and groaned and flipped and flopped. But I had tasted very little of this exquisite pleasure and was not nearly satisfied. Alas, he was all in. I was anxious to teach him what I had learned from Mr. Horak, so I started playing with his device. I wanted him to poke me through the back door, so I took his tool between my thumb and middle finger, playing round the head with my forefinger as I had seen Clementina do to Alois. When this did not seem to help, I took his limber weapon in my mouth, sucking and licking it around the head with my tongue. With my hands I played in the hair, which was tickling my eyes, and fondled his marbles, anxiously watching him grow stiff and hard again. At last he grabbed me, ready for another “piece,” but, putting my arms around his neck, I whispered into his ear: “Don't you want to get it in farther?”
“Yes! Yes!” he gasped, “way in-but it won't go.” I pushed him away, saying: “No, not that way-but it will go!” “But how?”
I turned my back to him, reached back between my legs, took his spear in my hand and inserted it. He grunted like a pig, as his mammoth member, which I had moistened with my saliva, slipped into me, he pushing it in further and further-indeed even further than Mr. Horak had succeeded in doing. It felt so glorious that I could not wish for anything more! He had now become so wild with passion, that I had to push away his hands-which clawed at my mound-or he would have torn me apart. I was already bleeding. I squeezed my sphincter together and he groaned loudly with pleasure. I enjoyed his groaning, so I squeezed repeatedly; but in consequence he discharged before I wanted him to. Then, exhausted, he leaned against the wall.
As I raised up, I shook with pleasure, feeling as though his energetic engine was still inside me; at this, the juices which he had injected there ran down the insides of my legs, tickling me as they dripped. But I could not rest. Under the pretense of wiping him off, I again began pushing his foreskin back and forth. He begged me to leave him alone. But I was not satisfied. I was still thinking of Shani -his mother, his two sisters, so unabashed in a way in which I had never yet acted towards Mr. Eckhard. I asked: “Have you ever done this naked?” He remarked: “Why, you have been in bed with me!” To this I replied: “Yes, but I mean all naked- without anything on?” He asked: “Have you done it that way?” “No,” I replied, “but I would like to. Have you ever done it that way?”
“Of course! Why, I was married once.” “Did your wife die?”
“No, she is not dead.” “Then, where is she?” “Why, she got to be a whore!” I remembered Mr. Horak calling me that. I asked: “Well, then, perhaps I am a whore?” “Oh, no!” he laughed outright. “You are my dear, little pepi!” At that he caressed me, and I, taking advantage of this, began playing with his shaft.
“"I never poked a little girl like you,” he continued. “Why do you like to poke so much?” Instead of answering, I stooped over and took his device so far into my mouth that the hair tickled my face. But he would not get stiff. After a while he murmured: “Oh, that feels so good!” Then, taking the instrument out of my mouth, he rubbed it around my grotto with his hand. It tickled as if a big tongue were licking me. “Is that good?” “Yes! But why doesn't it stand up again?” I asked. “I want it to stand up again!”
“If your mother knew what you are doing-” he suddenly remarked.
I laughed, saying: “Mother would like to have father's stand oftener.” Getting curious, he asked: “How do you know that?” (Still he continued playing around my slit with his soft machine.)
I told him of the scene which I had overheard. He listened eagerly and then said: “So she told him she would find someone else to poke her?” And just then, his shaft rose up stiff as ever. He put me on his lap, astride him, and forced himself inside me as far as he would go. I began jumping up and down, and soon approached my heights. I told him: “I am coming again-don't put it in so far-that hurts there-there-I am coming again-!” “At this, he asked: “Why wouldn't your mother let me poke her?” As I jumped up and down, I replied: “I don't know!” He said: “Ask your mother to let me. Will you do that for me?” “Yes,” I said, “but keep on, please-oh! That feels so good!” He was now pumping away in grand style, becoming more and more stiff as he thought of what I had told him. Meanwhile my mind was on Shani's mother and two sisters. “Do you think your mother would let me?” he asked again, coughing.
“Perhaps! I don't know,” I answered, as he began pushing harder.
I warned him: “Not so deep!” “I suppose with your mother I could get it all the way in?” “Certainly!” “Would you like to have me poke your own mother?” To please him, I answered: “Yes!” Just then he began to squirt. I jumped up, but, since he had not finished, he got mad, saying: “Lie still, you imp-you fool-don't run away before I am through!” So I had to finish it with my hand. It seemed as though he would never get through. Since it had now become dark, I went to bed. Mr. Eckhard did the same. But after awhile I got up, went to his room, took my chemise and stood before his bed-naked. At first he did not want me, but he soon began petting my naked body, my breasts and my kitten. Then he rubbed my nipples with his wet finger tips, then my stomach. Finally he began to play inside me with his fingers. By this time I was so passionate that I was trembling. I was afraid that some one might come in, so I pleaded: “Come on, Mr. Eckhard-hurry up! Somebody might come!”
“Hurry? What for?” he asked. I whispered: “I want to poke you!” “Now listen,” he said, lifting me onto the bed and sitting me on his knee, trying to see my face in the dark: “I have poked you three times already today and you still want more?” “Yes, but naked!” I replied. “Just look at your kitten!” he exclaimed. “It's all done up for this evening!” “But that is not from this evening,” I said, not thinking. “So!” From when is it?” he said, slipping his finger into my slit, which excited me still more. “So, who have you been poking? It seems to me that you are doing 'it' entirely too much! Tell me, who was it?” and he kept on manipulating his finger inside me. I was almost crazy with excitement, but thinking quickly, I decided to tell him about Mr. Horak, since he was also a grown-up man. “Well, who has been poking you today besides me?” Mr. Eckhard pressed, bending over me. Filled with curiosity, he still plied his finger in my canal. “Who?” You must tell me!”
“Mr. Horak!” I replied. “The beer agent downstairs?”
“Yes!” “Since when?” “A long time!” “Before I poked you?” “No, afterwards!” “Where did he catch you?”
“In the cellar.” “And how did it happen that he 'used' you so hard?” “Because he has such a long shaft!” “How long? Longer than mine?” “Yes, much longer- but not so thick!”
“And how often does he poke you at a time?” I lied to this, saying: “Always five times.” At this he became excited, saying: “All right. Come on! I will poke you once more!” I slid under him. He raised my chemise away up and I felt his naked body against me. But it was no use; his member was soft and would not stand up.
“Damn it!” he whispered, “and surely I would like to!” “So would I,” I answered, pressing up against him. But still he could not become stiff again. “Come,” said he, “take it in your mouth again; that will make it stand!” I kept on trying, playing with it. “Take it in your mouth. I suppose that you do that with Mr. Horak also?” “Yes!” I confessed. He then began moving in the bed and I moved down until his tool touched my mouth. Immediately I took it between my lips, fearful that some of the folks might return home. His stomach was on my face- I could hardly breathe- but I kept right on with all my might. The fear of being discovered worried me. Mr. Eckhard had buried his face in a pillow and began working up and down as though he already inside me. After awhile, I felt his engine getting harder and harder, until I could not take it all in my mouth anymore. I felt the pulse beats and it began to quiver. Quick as a cat, I slipped higher until I felt it between my legs. Taking hold of it, I quickly forced it into my opening as far as I could-holding my hands around that part remaining out. I was so much pleased as I felt it working in and out. He now poked like mad-saying: “I never would have thought I could do it once more! “Push harder!” I begged, “Push harder-!” Putting his hands on my breasts, he played with the nipples with his wet fingers so vigorously that I felt the pleasure down to the soles of my feet! Loosening my hands slightly, I felt him going in deeper inside me! “Wait,” he said, “now you little imp-you little whore-I'll show you!” Pressing his mouth to my ear, he started licking his tongue around it and in it. I felt as though I were playing with someone and at the same time felt as though I were being poked by six men at once-in my kitten-my mouth-both ears and my nipples. I could hardly refrain from screaming with pleasure. “Lord! Mr. Eckhard-that is so good! I will let nobody else ever do it to me again but you-Lord! I am coming-put it away in! I let him in a little deeper; it began to hurt, but I did not mind. “Just wait!” he whispered as he kept on working his tongue in my ear: “I'll teach you how to poke -I'll fix you so that you won't want to go to that cellar again and poke on beer barrels. I'll poke you as I did my wife-even if I knock you up-I don't care! Keep on working up against me. There-do you feel that?” I was so overcome that I kept on poking and talking: “No, Mr. Eckhard, I'll not go into that cellar any more-I'll never let Mr. Horak poke me again. Nobody-only you-just you alone-I will never stay with Alois again-nor Franz-nor Robert-no soldier again-only you!” “You have had so many pokes already?” “Yes,” I said, “and a number of other boys!”
He kept on poking with great energy. “Well then, I need not worry that you will ever accuse me.” “No, Mr. Eckhard,” I stammered in ecstasy, “you must poke me every day-you feel so good!” Said he: “Oh! I am coming again-keep on-faster- harder-if anything happens- you- you must say that Horak did it-you must let me poke you every day-yes, every day-oh-ah-ah! Let happen what will-I will keep on poking you until you can get it all in!” And so we kept on, without conversation. My hands burned, my “kitten" burned; my ears burned; my breath came short. Eckhard now was working like a machine!
We kept on at least for an hour! Several times I ventured to ask: “Aren't you through soon?” “No!” he said. “Not yet?”
“Soon!” After a while: “Please, Mr. Eckhard-it is hurting me terribly!” “Right away, my dear. Can't you come again?” “No! I can't come anymore. Please squirt-please, Mr. Eckhard, please do 'go off'!” He made one awful push. I thought that he would split me in two. Then he began to ejaculate-so much that it seemed like he was urinating. When it was over, he laid on me like a log, groaning. I crawled out from under him, half dazed.
Pushing me away, he said: “Now, get out of here, you imp-you damned little whore!” Without answering I went to my bedroom, put on my shirt, threw myself on the bed. My slit burned like fire inside and around the edges. I thought that I must be torn and bleeding. I lit a lamp and examined myself with a hand mirror. I found no blood, but was surprised to see how red and inflamed I was and how open my grotto stood. I ached all over. Lying down, I blew out the light and in a few minutes heard the folks returning home. I pretended that I were asleep, and I finally did fall asleep. The next day Mr. Eckhard was sick. He remained in bed, putting cold towels on his head and I believe on some other place. I felt good, with the exception of a slight inflammation in my slit. Mr. Eckhard did not look at me and I avoided talking to him. He slept mostly all day, but as I passed his bed in the evening, he whispered; “This is your fault!” I became frightened at this, and running to mother's room, I asked her:
“What ails Mr. Eckhard?” She answered: “I don't know; he is sick.” In a few minutes she went into the kitchen and I heard her inquire: “What really seems to be the matter, Mr. Eckhard?” I became terribly frightened, as I was sure that he would say: “It is pepi's fault.” But he whispered something that I could not understand, and then I heard mother say: “Go on, don't tell me that!” I carefully tip-toed to the door to listen, cost what it might I was bound to hear what was going on. He whispered again and she said in low tones: “But why did you do that?” He answered: “The girl got me excited! I tell you that I was crazy!” Listening to this, I was very much frightened. Mother then said: “But she must have been a dirty bitch?” To which he replied: “No-no-no-she was just a child and did not know what she was doing! She was about as old as your Pepi,” at which I breathed easier. But mother clasped her hands together, saying: “And you dared mistreat a child?” Mr. Eckhard laughed, saying: “Nonsense! Mistreat nothing! When she herself takes my tool out of my pants and puts it in her mouth and begins to suck? How could I mistreat a child, doing such a thing?” Mother was indignant, saying: “How bad the children are nowadays; it shows that you cannot watch them enough.” Then she lowered her voice to a whisper, so I could only surmise what she was saying from his answers. He seemed to be getting better, as he remarked: “Why, no, it wouldn't go in at all-just a little ways-give me your hand-I will show you!” “No! No! Thank you! What are you thinking of?” “Well, there would be no harm,” said Mr. Eckhard. Mother interrupted him, saying: “How often did you say?” He lied: “Six times!”
I was amused by this, as I knew that mother had no idea of the facts. “Six times I had to do it. She would not rest!” “Go on!” mother broke in. “Impossible! Six times! Why do you lie like that?” “But I will tell you,” he insisted, “you see I can hardly move-six times!” “Oh no-” Mother did not believe him, “no man can stand that!” “Listen, Mrs. Mutzenbacher, hasn't your husband ever done it to you six times?” Mother snickered, saying: “Yes, what of it-?” Just then someone came in, which ended the conversation, but I felt relieved of all fear. Mr. Eckhard was sick for several days. He did not remain in bed, but he walked around the kitchen in his drawers and slippers and an old overcoat over his shoulders. He often sat with mother and I noticed that they still talked about “the affair.” A few days later, I was excused from school at ten o'clock in the morning. Going home, I saw that there was no one in the kitchen, but as I looked through the glass door leading into the bedroom- which was locked-I spied mother and Mr. Eckhard. I kept very quiet, hoping to overhear their conversation. Sneaking to the door, I listened. Mother was saying: “You heard nothing. That is a lie!”
He replied: “But just think back? You told him that you had not 'gone off' yet, and wanted him to make a second round!” Mother laughed, saying: “Him-and a second round? I am happy that he is able to make the first round!” “Well, you see,” Eckhard eagerly replied, “he is so weak that he comes before you do.” Mother answered: “I guess that other men are no better.” “But that is where you are mistaken,” replied Mr. Eckhard. “I can hold it back as long as I like. It makes no difference if you want to come three times before I 'go off' once!” Mother laughed. “Anybody can say that! I don't believe it!” “Let me try it and I will show you!”
Mother shook her head, saying: “No, no, you know very well that I would not do that!” He took hold of her by her hips: “Come on! I feel like going a couple of rounds!” They began to tussle. She said: “Let me go, Mr. Eckhard, or I will scream!” He released her but stood close to her, whispering: “Come on-let me do it. I have long admired you!” She stepped back, shaking her head, and then said: “Now, leave me alone; I am a decent woman, don't forget that.” My mother was a good-looking and slender but well-built woman, about thirty-six years old. She had a fresh-looking face and blonde hair.
“No one would imagine that you have had three children,” Eckhard remarked. T mean by looking at your face. I presume that otherwise it would be noticeable?” “It is not noticeable. I am just as fresh as when I was a girl,” she said. Now he tried the doubtful tack, saying: “Oh, go on, your breasts will undoubtedly show it.”
Mother answered, indignantly saying: “My breasts are the same as they always were.” He tried to take a feel of them, saying: “I must convince myself.” Mother stepped back, saving: “If you don't believe it-leave it!” He succeeded in putting his hand on one of them, however, and squeezing it, shouted with joy: “Why-that is most wonderful! They are just like a young girl's. I have never seen anything like it in my Me!” After a weak struggle, mother stood still, smiling at him, in triumph. She said: “Now, do you see! Now do you believe?” “I certainly do believe it!” He took the other tittie in his hand. My mother made no objection. Mr. Eckhard went on, still playing with her until I could see the titties getting quite hard. Said he: “You are foolish to exert yourself as you do, trying to get satisfaction from your husband, when another man will do anything if you just let him, just for the sake of these beautiful breasts!” “But I am a good woman,” she replied, standing perfectly quiet and allowing him to play. “Good, nonsense,” he continued. “When a woman can't get satisfaction from her husband, her obligation ceases. Nature must be satisfied.” At that he unbuttoned her waist, taking the titties in his hands. “Now, stop!” she whispered, trying to get away from him, but he stooped and kissed her left nipple and saw how she was trembling. “Stop! Stop!” she again whispered. She was standing in front of the bed, which had not yet been made up from the night before. He shoved her over, immediately getting on top of her and between her legs. She fought him-he could hardly hold her down. “No!-No!-” she whispered, “I won't! I am a good woman!” “Nonsense! He said, “I think that you have had a strange spear before this.” “No-never-go away-or I'll scream!” He was already feeling for her slit with his tool, sayings “Don't be foolish; I will make it good.” I could see how he was fondling and squeezing her titties. “But if someone should come?” pleaded mother. “Nobody is going to come,” said he, pushing hard. She now lay perfectly quiet, just murmuring:
“Don't do it-I beg of you not to do it.” Then suddenly she laughed, saying: “Why-you can't even find your way in-wait! I will help you!” Soon I heard her sigh-he had found the “opening.” In an instant everything was changed. She trembled from head to foot and spread her legs way apart. He put his arms around her, saying: “Dear, we do it so!” I saw his every movement and he was now poking her with all his might and pleasure. I was at a loss about what to do-whether to watch them or to run into the cellar and look for Mr. Horak. But fearing that they might hear me, I remained where I was.
Mother now began to work with Mr. Eckhard. He said to her: “Oh, but you do it wonderfully! Such a warm, small 'kitten'-such wonderful work-I could hold back forever-just always leave it in-!”
Mother was breathing hard and fast, and finally she began to talk: “Mary-Joseph-you hurt! Such a big thick shaft. And so sweet!-Oh, but that is different from what I have had. Go on-faster-faster, please-I feel it away up in my titties-oh, poke hard-I am coming right away!” “Just take your time,” said Mr. Eckhard, “I won't go yet!”
“Oh, but this is different from what I have had-oh, but that is good-! I have never experienced anything like it, when you don't have to hurry!” she whispered. “My husband would have been through long ago; oh, that is so good-now, put it way in-keep on-my husband could never do it like this-!” “You wouldn't want me to take it out right now, would you?” said Eckhard, withdrawing it slightly.
Mother screamed softly, holding him tight as she again put it in. She said: “Oh, goodness! I am coming-I am coming-for goodness sake, don't take it out now, please-” He just bounced up and down: “So, now you'll let me, but at first you fought against me?” “Oh, goodness! Had I only known how good this is-and such wonderful tool and how you can poke-! Now-now-!” She started crying, laughing and smacking her lips, gasping for breath. He kept right on. She said: “I went off!” “It makes no difference, you can 'come' again,” said he, continuing his movements. “Oh-I am really coining again!-Oh! My husband could never do that-oh, I am dying-I feel your shaft way up in my mouth now-I beg of you -take my titties-play with them-! There-there -keep right on poking, please-”
He exerted himself still more, whispering, “Now I can play with the titties? Now you are not yelling 'I am a good woman,' with my poke in your hole all such nonsense ceases.” She answered, pleased: “Yes-yes-just leave it in there-I am coming again-! I don't care if anyone does come-I don't care if I get a child with you!” He was now working like mad, holding her legs way up. I heard a rattle in his throat which I well knew. He said: “Now! Now, I am going to squirt!”
“Go on! Squirt!” She trembled with pleasure, as she received the discharge. Then she began to giggle: “Oh, my, I am coming with you-I will surely have a baby, but I don't care. When my husband goes off he lays perfectly quiet, but you keep working! Oh, how heavenly! If my husband really goes off twice, it sure is his limit!” Then they both lay quiet. It was over! Finally they sat up, mother sitting there with her hair down and her dress all mussed up. She held her hands before her face, smiling at him through her fingers.
Pulling her hands away, he said: “Now everything is all right?”
“Such a shaft-such a shaft!” she said, as she held it with both hands, admiring it. “I feel as though it was inside of me yet!”
Then she stooped and took it all in her mouth. As if by magic, it stood up again, hard and stiff as ever. Mr. Eckhard took it out of her mouth and said: “Come, let us do it again!” “No-no, could you really do it once more-?” “That is nothing; five times more if nobody comes in,” he said. “Oh, let us hope that nobody comes,” cried mother. “I don't know; I think that I must be crazy. I can't stand it!” “I think,” said he, “for fear that someone might come and surprise us, we won't lie down; we will sit here.” So, as he seated himself on a chair, his big staff standing up stiff and hard, mother carefully straddled him and with her hands quickly guided his saber into place. Soon she was jumping up and down like a “jumping-jack.” “Oh, my goodness! This is much better!” she said, “I can feel it tickling my heart!” He muttered: “You see, if you had not always been too proud, you could have done this a long time ago.” Mother said: “Hold my breasts-hold me all over! I have been married fifteen years but I have never been poked like this-! My husband does not deserve a true woman.” He was now kissing first one nipple and then the other. “I am coming-always coming-every minute Nature asserts itself-oh, you good man! How wonderful you do it! I-am coming again-again-!” I soon heard the familiar rattle in his throat. In one last effort he raised her way up, holding onto her titties, but she noticed nothing. Lying quietly against him, she received his discharge. I saw her whole body trembling. Then for a long time she lay there as dead. They finally got up and suddenly mother knelt in front of him. Taking his shaft, she began to suck and lick it like a woman gone mad. He then remarked: “Well, shall we enjoy this often?” as she stepped away. Then she said: “I am always alone in the morning, you know.” He shook his head, saying: “But I must go to work in the morning!” She immediately replied: “Then I will come to you at night when my husband is in the saloon.”
“And what of the children?” “Oh, don't mind them; they sleep.” He must have thought of me as he answered: “Don't be too sure about the children sleeping.” “Oh, no,” she insisted, “they won't hear anything. Doesn't my husband always poke me when they sleep and they don't hear anything?” “Well, I am willing.” All this time, she was playing with his tool in her mouth, only stopping to speak. Just then he said: “Now let me have one more-quick-before somebody comes!” She sprang up, saying: “For goodness sake-is it possible? Then hurry up, I am coming only once this time.” Throwing herself on the bed, she raised her dress. But he said: “No, turn around!” He stood her in front of the bed, made her stoop over until her head rested on the bedspread, then, raising her dress, he pushed his weapon into her from behind. I heard another gurgle, then sighing, she whispered: “I am coming already! Oh, please-come with me now-now!” He then withdrew, sat down on a chair and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. She got a basin filled with water, squatted down over it and washed her “kitten.” When she finished, she went to him and begged him to kiss the nipples once more. He did so eagerly. Then she buttoned up her waist, saying: “Perhaps I can come to you tonight.” “I shall be glad to have you,” he replied. Suddenly she asked him: “And now, what about the little wench that you poked six times?” never dreaming that she was talking about me. He answered: “What about her?”
“Are you going to poke her after this?” Eckhard smiled: “You are jealous?” “Yes!” she said, “I want you to poke me-only me!”
“But you let others poke you?” Mother was astonished: I? Who do you mean?” “Well, you let your husband poke you, don't you?”
“Oh, him? I shall never let him again!” “Impossible! He will want it sometimes.” “Well,” she hesitated, “he can only do it every two or three weeks; that, I am sure, will not annoy you; he just gets in a little ways, two or three jerks and he is through.”
“Well, then, I will only poke my girl every two or three weeks, and I won't put it all the way in, so, we are even.” “I beg of you; you might get caught and you will surely be arrested.” He laughed, saying: “No, no, they won't catch me, and you will certainly get your share even if I do poke my girl occasionally.” “You had better get out now,” mother told him. “It is almost noon and somebody is liable to come.” She hugged him once more, he, putting both hands on her titties. Feeling of his pants, she kissed him and he came out of the room. When he spied me, he was so shocked that he could not speak. I grinned at him knowingly. He came to me and whispered: “Did you see everything?” When I simply smiled, he quickly put his hand under my dress, felt of my slit and then said: “You won't tell anybody, will you?” I shook my head and he stopped, fearing that mother might come out. After that, several times I heard them having “their fun” together at night, and once I spied them in the afternoon. After that, however, I did not allow Mr. Eckhard to poke me again. I don't know why, but I just wouldn't.
One day, he came home early, knowing that I would be alone. He tried to fondle me and, when I objected, he threw me down and got on top of me. But I held my knees so tight together, that he could do nothing. He got up, looked at me, but never bothered me again.