When I opened my eyes again, Teresa had re-entered, still completely naked, bring with her Lili; a Lili entirely new for me, a Lili in her nightgown with a braid of hair down her back; a Lili asleep on her feet.
She dropped the girl into an armchair like a rag doll and came over to whisper into my ear, carefully separating each word:
“Let me alone now. She's my daughter, and I can raise her how I want. If you insult me in front of her or try to keep her from doing what I ask, I'll never forgive you.”
She could have saved her breath, for I had not the least intention. I was completely dazed. I had no intentions, good or bad, towards either her or Lili.
Teresa made the girl get up from her chair, where she seemed to have fallen once more to sleep and somehow awoke her completely with the words, “Show us how you can wake up when you see a man. Ready? One! Two! Three! Are you still asleep?”
“No, mama.”
“Good; Now what docs a little girl do when she is standing in front of a man and she is in her nightgown?”
And just as she would have recalled a rule of polite behavior that all good children should know, Lili, with a funny little smile, raised her nightgown to her waist and spread her legs a little. Then she threw herself around my neck and, kindly but slightly scolding, said, “You were cornholing Charlotte! She told me all about it.”
“I'm not surprised! She told me quite a bit too.”
“About what.”
“I know how you eat your cookies.”
“My cookies? You mean when I stick them info her pussy before she fingers herself? And what else?”
I turned towards Teresa. “Can I ask her how she was born?”
“Certainly. Tell him Lili.”
She hesitated, however. Then, seeing that I already knew, she began to laugh.
“Charlotte is my father. She knocked up mama with her asshole.”
She even (and since I'd never seen Lili crack a joke of this type, I think that this was maliciousness) quickly added something I had not asked for.
“In our family we always make the kids that way. Mama just made another one tonight with Charlotte, but it didn't take because it wag in her mouth instead.”
Lili never laughed when she joked, and, seeing that I wasn't laughing either, Teresa quickly said, “Are you keeping that nightshirt on so you'll look like an angel, my under-fucked little toad? Or is it something to catch the drops of come in?”
Scarcely touched by the blast, the little angel removed her gown and said to her mother, “Do I have to undo my braid?”
“No. Come over here to me and tell us what you did with him yesterday.”
“I had his prick in me everywhere, mama. From the front, from behind, and in the mouth.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, I only have three holes. It's too bad that you didn't give me fourteen.”
“Listen to her… And what else do you know how to do?”
“Anything you want.”
“Tell us what.”
Lili hesitated, sighed, then after glancing towards me, replied with all the discouragement of a young girl who has given up trying to bring her mother up properly.
“A lot of things that he doesn't like, mama. I saw that right away.”
“Oh? You saw that?'
“Yes. He's not the kind that likes to piss on little girls and make them do all kinds of stupid things. He doesn't like anything that's dirty and he likes everything that's good… And he isn't vicious either. He isn't the sort to use a whip. But I know something that he won't say no to.”
She whispered excitedly into her mother's ear.
“Repeat it out loud,” said Teresa. “Don't be afraid. Say it just like you said it to me.”
Lili lowered her eyes and spoke in such a reluctant and embarrassed manner that she sighed deeply between each word.
“When he… When he… cornholes you… mama… Ill put… I'll put my hand into your pussy and… and I'll…' I'll..”
“Little imbecile!” cried Teresa. “You'll take his prick through the skin of my cunt and beat him off into my ass. What are you making so much out of so little for? And if I suck him?”
'Til lick his balls and his ass.”
“And if we fuck?”
“That would bowl me over!” said Lili seriously.
Teresa bunt out laughing and howled until her loins and her stomach shook.
Up to that point, Lili had been a victim of stage-fright. So free with either myself or her mother, she let herself be intimidated by the sight of both of us 'together. For her the two of us formed a public and she had behaved accordingly. Now, her mother's laughter suddenly transformed her like an unexpected success sometimes transforms a young actress. From that moment on she wore an entirely different expression, and Teresa, quick to note any change in her daughters, said loudly, “Miss Lili! On stage! What do you call that costume you're wearing?”
“This is a suit little girls wear when they're completely nude. My mama made it for me working with her…”
“And the thing that hides your sex, miss?”
“Oh! For all the sex I've got, madame, it's hardly worth the trouble bothering to hide it.”
Lili could be good when she had gained a little aplomb. I began to question her also.
“Do you want me to hire you, my dear? As dancer? Singer? Acrobat? What do you know how to do?”
“Suck off the director,” said Lili unhesitatingly.
She was doing well! And in the same tranquil voice, without ever looking for a word, she continued, “As an acrobat I'm the spitting image of my grandmother. Would you like to see the snake-girl number, good sir? With the trick of finding a lesbian in your bed when you get in by yourself?”
“Yes,” said Teresa. “Let's see it.”
“If my mama knew what I was doing,” began Lili. And from there on I thought that she was reciting a role she had learned by heart. I didn't know her well enough at that time to guess that she had made the whole thing up herself from scraps of sentences she had chanced to hear plus the natural gift of a child-comedienne.
She squatted at the foot of the bed, elbows on knees, feet beneath buttocks, and said in a melancholy voice:
“You see here before you the most unhappy girl in the world, the child-martyr the papers have been so full of lately. They didn't dare tell why she is a child-martyr, it's so terrible, but it's because I have a perverted mother, good sirs! God forgive her!”
“You listening?” asked Teresa.
“There are little girls who are beaten, whipped, chained up, martyred, that people slick tacks into and deprive of food, but my case is even worse! Do you know what is forbidden to me until my twenty-first birthday? Ah! Good sirs! No one could ever guess where my mother has inflicted her punishment on me! She forbade me to beat myself off!”
“You'd think it was true!” said Teresa again.
Lili never batted an eye. She continued in the same slow, resigned voice, a child naming her misfortunes without the least hope of consolation. There was almost a modesty in her manner as she related the rest of her tale:
“Sir, I ask you to be my witness. I used to beat myself off like this, like any good child would: one finger in the ass, one finger in the hole, and one finger on the clitoris. I didn't hurt myself, I assure you, but it was no use telling that to mama. Grown-ups never understand anything.”
“Poor thing!” I sympathized.
“And the things they shout at you!.. Mama made me swear that I would never again acquire the deadly vice of masturbation! Imagine a word like that right to my face! And me just a little girl!”
“They allow such things? And you never again took up this terrible habit?”
“No, what could I do?”
“And you didn't commit suicide?”
“No, because I say to hell with it like to hell with my three virginities. Since I can't beat myself off, I suck myself.”
Instinctively, Lili gave this, last answer without the least trace of an accent, keeping the same simple, soft voice. Ten years in the theatre does less for most actresses than ten years of existence had done for Lili. I couldn't help whispering to Teresa, “She should be on the stage!”
“True!” replied Teresa. “She offers to suck the director without even bothering to tell him what she can do. What else can you teach a girl like that?”
But Lili was finishing her monologue, modulating the grossness of her language with an angelic voice.
“So it's entirely my mother's fault if I no longer beat myself off under my nightdress like a model little girl. Instead of that, I spend an hour completely naked, rubbing my behind against my mouth, saying, 'Lili, you're no dummy when you can still suck your own come!' Grown-ups, kind sir, never know what bad advice they give we children because, fortunately, we never listen to them; we only pretend to; but if, once in a while, we do listen, look what happens.”
“Oh, really, Lili!” cried Teresa, gayly scolding.
“You're not here, mama,” replied Lili, immediately taking up her role once again to finish by saying that she could tell no more since her exercise made it rather difficult to talk.
And then she proceeded to do what she had said. She rolled herself into a tiny ball, her shoulders on the bedsheet, her legs open behind her head, her arms crossed on her buttocks. Her mound was touching her chin… and this detail wasn't the only one I was most interested in.
I was amazed at her body, so small already, so slim, so short, so light, become twice as small, reduce itself to almost nothing, as if she were turning herself inside out by going back inside her own little shell.
Lili prolonged the position, and when I wanted to order, “Rest!” Teresa gave a contradictory command.
“Better then than now. Enough for the snatch, stick your tongue into your cunt. Good. And is that all you can do? Can't you go any farther? Is that kid a real whore or not? What about that little rose bud I can see? Better than that, Lili! Your whole tongue into your ass…! Look how she's sticking it in! What a little whore…! That's fine, Lili! Not bad at all! Engaged for the season!”
Lili came up very red in the face and…
All educators will understand what I am going to say: either it should be forbidden to little girl-serpents to engage in saphism on themselves in front of their mothers' lovers, or, if it is permitted, they must be praised for their performances.
Therefore, I was just beginning to offer the young acrobat the compliments that were her due when Teresa interrupted us.
“Go into the bathroom, honey. Close the door, make yourself pretty, brush the hairs on your ass, and come back in when I call you.”
Lili obeyed with good grace. However, the ghost of a curious smile flitted across her face at the words, “Brush the hairs on your ass!” It seemed to me that she was saying to herself, “If I wanted to be bothered to answer that, I could be funnier than she.” But she knew another way to prove that she was not stupid: she said nothing at all.
When the door closed there was a silence. Teresa said nothing, and although I knew that she loved Lili at least maternally if not more, I would have been really naive if I thought she was waiting for me to compliment her on her daughter.
She looked into my eyes.
She let her hand creep across to my flank.
Her thigh to my thigh.
That was all. A minute had been all she had needed to obtain, without touching the desired article directly, the result she sought. More weary of mind than of body, I was slothful enough not to greet the instant success of her remote-control magnetism with a ringing oration. I don't like to submit myself as subject for thaumaturgical scenes; and besides I was beginning to know Teresa: I saw that she wanted more to excite me than to satisfy me.
“I refuse to say another word to you unless you get an erection!” she said unpityingly.”
“You see before you,” I smiled, “the young-man martyr the papers have been so full of lately.”
“Get a hard-on and wait! Do like me. When Lili licks me you'll see if I hold in or not.”
“Is it because of your religion, Madame? Is this staunch resolution the result of a vow?”
With a little growl she quieted me. “I'm getting a little tired of these jokes!” But it was only a threat, for she proceeded to tell me what she was now going to offer in the way of pleasures, what awaited my perseverance, and the role that Lili would play. I won't tell you now what they were, not in order to hide them, but because you will read them on the next page. Besides, Teresa gave me a resume that was a little long for a production of only one act.
I would have liked to have explained to her at this point that I had not had the good fortune to receive at birth a miraculous organ that never wore out, but one susceptible to one of the proofs of human weakness. But she wasn't listening. She cried, “Lili!”
“So!” said this one, seeing me as yet relaxed. “It hasn't begun yet. What are we going to do?”
“Three things. Come here to me. You can guess them by yourself.”
Teresa helped her a little, letting her, as if by accident, see the state of excitement she was in. Lili cried joyously, “Oh! Is all that for me?”
“And then? What haven't you had today, little fart?”
“A prick in the ass… But I hardly dare ask for that.”
“I think we might lend it to you, if you return it. And after that; what will you do for us?”
“The hand inside!”
Nimbly and more serpent-like than ever, Lili slid across her mother's body and stuck her face between her thighs. Her little head disappeared in the long black hair where my hand had several times lost its way. Teresa, always so supple, twisted the top half of her body towards me, resting on one shoulder, and held me tight.
She wanted to talk and I had to listen. She said the following things, murmuring them ardently but evenly, punctuating them with little smiles:
“Sssst! Listen. I'm calm now; you can believe me. There's my vice, and my happiness. I went into my bordello, picked the little whore I wanted. You can call her whore, like Charlotte. I'm the only one you can't call whore.
“And what a whore! She's not even my lesbian. She hasn't made me come, she's just licking the come that I made for you. Yesterday it was the same thing but with a different whore. I discharged in Charlotte's mouth for your prick! Your prick! Your prick! And you didn't even understand, you virgin!”
Very clever, that last word! She knew that I was not listening to her, that Lili had amused me and that I was still thinking of her; and with one word she caught once more at my straying attention, exasperating me for the third time with that word “virgin.” That done, she closed my mouth for me, redoubled the violence of her language, and began to tremble slightly between murmurs.
“There was never a mother who gave so much milk to her daughters as I have given come to mine. This one is ten years old and she's still sucking me. But not my teats. You can have my teats to warm your hands or caress your balls, or hold your prick. If there was any milk in them you could have that too, but not her. Look at her sacking! Like a kitten under the mother cat's stomach! She's only ten years old. How many more years do you think I'll be able to have her tongue in my ass? Charlotte has been sucking my come for twenty years now and she still hasn't been weaned.”
“Do you think there was ever a more infamous mother than you?” I whispered.
“Say that some more. That excites me. Makes me flow. The more you say that, the more Lili will have to drink.”
“Are you going to come, bitch?”
“No. She's licking what you left from before. I was flooded. She hasn't even finished yet! So, I'm so bad a mother as all that? Are you sure? There are so many others!”
“The other have at least the excuse of giving themselves to the vices of men; but the incestuous scenes that you've been showing me here…”
“I'm worse than a whore, I know.”
“A hundred times worse! You're frightening, you're so bad! You're worse than the whores, the lesbians, the procuresses, even the customers at the bordellos.”
Here, Lili raised her head and, without having heard anything of our whispers, said, “What's going on up here, mama? The more I suck the more flows out.”
“That's enough!” said Teresa, pulling herself together with an effort. “Do something else. Go rub some soap in your behind. Clean it out and come sit down underneath him.”
Heaven never gave me the temperament to be a spectator. Besides, Teresa had held me in a state of excitement for a long time and I was happy for that reason to be given a chance to work it off. I'll admit it even to those moralists whom I shall never hope to change and who will reproach me again for the following scene: I was happy to be given a chance to finish.
But, as she had once already, little miss Lili committed another outrage to all modesty when she came “to sit down beneath him” as her mother had said, so I made her change her position. Besides, I was getting tired of lying down.
Without overworking my imagination, I stood the girl on a stool next to the bed with her body leaning' forward. Unfortunately, in real stories like this one the positions are always more simple than in novels.
“Hold steady now!” said Teresa. “You look like a little violet vendor standing on her basket so she can be cornholed in the shithouse of a bistro.”
“And to look like a little princess, how do you have to be cornholed?” asked Lili.
However she behaved herself like a good child and became serious again at the proper time.
Turning her head to the side where her mother could not see her face, she looked at me over her shoulder with a kind expression in her eyes and a little barely pursed shape to her lips that seemed to say, “I can't say anything to you because mama is here.” I returned a glance which replied that we understood each other; but I incorporated the same mystery into it, for the smaller the little girl, the greater are her secrets.
Our silent dialogue was interrupted as quickly as it takes to tell it by Teresa who could no longer hide her excitement. She shot me a smile in which I thought I saw ferocity lurking just beneath the surface, a smile with the teeth rather more than with the lips. She said into my ear, “You can prostitute my daughter of ten and it's nothing! What makes me hot is to take your prick out of her and… Listen! Listen!”
She lie down on the bed in the middle. “Your tongue, Lili,” she cried. “Lick my hole. Make it good and wet. Spread the hair out. Now, take his prick, my child! Stick it into me yourself. And tell me what you call a little girl who would help cornhole her mother. Tell me.”
Lili found two answers. She whispered the first to me in a breath:
“It's the daughter of a whore.'“
Then out loud to Teresa:
“It's easy to see that she would he a little girl that was made from an asshole!”
The first answer amused me so much that I forgot my role and missed my entrance despite the care with which Lili had prepared it.
I don't think Teresa heard either the first or the second. And since she had her back turned, she didn't see the smile that darted across my face. But she spoke in such a way that my desire to laugh soon vanished. She spewed and vomited her words. She became really terrible. In front of a little girl — “a bit of a whore” undoubtedly, but with a sense of humor and a sense of propriety — in front of a child too young to understand the delirium of the senses, it seemed to me that this flood of obscenities was utterly senseless. But Teresa wallowed in it. She was trying to surpass even what she had said in front of Charlotte, as if the fraility of the childhood of her youngest daughter excited her even more.
Lili, attentive, not in the least intimidated, but silent nevertheless, then proceeded to her last task.
Her tiny hand was small enough to fit completely into the none too large sex of Teresa. Once inside, the adroit member opened it little by little, groped, seemed to flutter, and seized firmly across the membrane the penis that could not escape it.
I do not hesitate, at this point, to admit that until that hour I had never accepted the gratifications of a woman's hand. It seems to me ridiculous and undesirable, but the exercise that Lili performed was of the utmost finesse in conception and execution. I was speechless in admiration.
I wished that Teresa had been as silent as I! But she never once ceased crying, “Ah! What a whore this child! What a drawer of come! Ah! Turn around, my child, so I can fondle your ass, my little bitch!” and a hundred other things of like nature. It dazed me so that I was frowning like a-preacher. When an acrobat does his speciality the orchestra stops playing, and in the same way this supreme trick of Lili's merited a little silence. Incest itself was only another stimulus to Teresa's pleasure. I would have passed it up for just that reason.
However, to take a beautiful woman in the way that brings to the surface her greatest ardor, and to feel down at the bottom of her entrails a tiny hand, soft but firm, that takes you, that grips you, that feels you, that caresses you… Truly, if you have never had such an experience, believe me that it is superfluous to attempt to add a moral conception such as incest to so intense a physical sensation. It is sufficient in itself when one knows how to regulate one's desires, moderate one's passions, and live content with a little that is at the same time a great deal.