but that night the idea obsessed me. I meant, however, to leave it to him to make the first attempt.
He began awkwardly enough by saying that he had seen me on the stage in London-which was an obvious lie, as I had never played in London-and that I looked lovely.
Of course, I asked him if I didn't look nicer off, and he looked me straight in the face and answered: 'Yes!'
I had laid my bare arm over the coverlet then, and he had taken my fingers in his. He was a pretty boy and his tight fitting livery showed his figure off to advantage.
I found it impossible to get him to make the necessary overtures, and had to do something myself. I led him to talk of the girls he had kissed and banteringly told him that I did not believe he knew how to kiss-that, of course, meant that he kissed me and that action at once removed the barrier between mistress and servant which had hitherto separated us. I had my arm over his neck and kept him down on me after he had kissed me.
'And what do you do to Thomson when you sleep with her?' I asked.
He had the assurance to answer: 'What you and master do.'
I slid my other hand between his legs and felt, as I said: 'I don't believe you are old enough!' but there was something pretty stiff inside his little trousers, I can tell you.
Well, the upshot of the thing was that the boy pushed his hand underneath the bedclothes, pulled up my nightdress and felt my naked pussy. I stood it for a minute and then thrust him from the bed and told him to undress.
'Undress yourself and show me what you did to Thomson,' I commanded with lust, and spending like a fountain.
He obeyed quickly enough. He wanted to jump into bed as soon as he was naked, but I wouldn't allow that; I made him stand up to be looked at. He was beautifully formed and had the dearest little thing growing bolt upright from a very young undergrowth of fern. I told him to drink a glass of whiskey, and then flung the clothes from me and lay open-legged for the onslaught.
It was a tiny member that he put into my sweating cunt, but he employed it manfully and I realized Thompson, the maid, had no mean substitute for a man when she took that precocious little child into her bed.
He was so small that I hardly felt his little penis against the sides of my pussy, but I came after four or five strokes, and then fell to thinking as I lay in a delicious state of lassitude of the other pricks that had entered me.
I was nineteen and it wasn't quite a year since I had first gone wrong, but I had had a fair selection. First, George Reynolds with a long thin sinewy member. I was only judging from the feel of it, for I had been too shy that first night to properly examine it. But I remember he was a quick and frequent spender.
Then Walker Bird's chubby little tool, that took a great deal of agitation before his blase majesty would be persuaded to pour out its balm.
Mr. Annesley was of the long and slim order, and curiously shaped-bent the wrong way. The four men I had had at Mrs. Clarence's place, that made seven. The artist, eight. Mr. Edgar with his clean shaven stomach, the poet with his truly gigantic member, ten. Then on tour before I began living with Jean, was Restall of course, the boy at Oxford, the fat brewer at Manchester, the Scotch whiskey merchant at Glasgow, and the comedian at Edinburgh (with, of course, the waiter there) that brought the list up to sixteen.
Then Jean, most hallowed of memories, even though he had been a blackguard to me-Lewis and now this little chit of a page boy. I decided to count him and the baffled comedian at half each, and so brought the number up to twenty; what a record for a little girl of my age; the daughter of a reverend parson, too!
Well, in the midst of my sweet recollection of the penises enjoyed in the past, I was brought to a proper consciousness of the work in hand by the plunges of my little lover. 'I'm going to spend,' he piped into my ear and that he did with delightful spasms and ecstatic exclamations of joy. What he put into me was no Niagara but I must say I enjoyed it very much.
I made him wait on me, go downstairs stark naked as he was, to fetch hot water. I lay open-legged on the cork mat by the washstand while he washed my parts.
Then I made him sit in the armchair, naked as he was, while I lay on the bed, as we talked. It was amusing to watch his shrunken member give sudden starts of animation as I made the conversation more indelicate.
Of course to make him naughty again, I questioned him about the former times he had done this, and really the little rascal had had an uncommonly festive time for his age and knew quite a lot. He wanted to make love to me, tell me he worshipped me, but I let him know that I was making use of him as a servant.
In fact, I thought it better to close his mouth by making a definite arrangement. It was as follows: 'As long as I find that you are perfectly discreet over this,' I said, 'I will give you ten shillings every time I want you, and will recommend Mr. Lewis to increase your wages. Should you dare tell Thomson or any of the other servants, I will be sure to hear of it and out you go!'
Of course he protested that he didn't want the money, but I had made him bring me my purse and take a sovereign from it. By that time I was ready for more and I noticed the kid was too. I took his penis in my hand and it thrilled with life. The only thing that bothered me was exactly what to do with him. I didn't want the boy to fuck me in the manner of the majority of men. I lay with him on the floor, on the fur rug which I always preferred to a bed for fucking purposes, and we fingered each other's parts. I thought of sucking the boy but I didn't want that, and another and wickeder idea began gradually to grow on me. I remembered the time that Jean had tried to get into me by way of my other aperture and failed, owing to the size of his member. Now it occurred to me as I looked at the diminutive member that this one should be able to make a way into me with ease.
Still, I wanted to suck the boy too, and I would prefer to do that before he operated on me. The question was whether after the sperm had been drawn from him by experienced lips and tongue, would he be able to get another erection sufficient to encounter the natural resistance which my virgin back passage would be sure to offer.
I had half turned on top of him, was feeling his thumb of love-a pleasant expression that, and one I was unacquainted with until I took to reading Walt Whitman.
'You ignorant girl!' interrupts Gladys, 'the letter press to the old bawdy drawings, to Rowlandson's especially, are full of that expression.'
I confess my ignorance and proceed.
Well, I was feeling the boy, bending over him, with my lips close to his penis, and the little bugger was fidgeting about randily, and I thought it best to question him on his state of manhood.
'How many times can you do it?' I asked him point blank.
'Oh, lots,' he answered, 'at any rate three more.'
I hardly believed in three more, but the boy seemed so confident. And then, how to suggest the thing became a puzzler-but I determined to leave it till after I had given him my tongue.
'Did any one ever do this to you before?' I asked, looking into his eyes after I had run my tongue round the tip of his penis-the foreskin closed right up round it, leaving only a tiny bit of the bare head visible.
'No, that is, never a girl. But we used to do it at school.'
That reassured me a little; if he had played around with other boys, it was possible he understood the game of entering through the back door.
I pulled back his foreskin and slipped my lips over the bulb of his penis. How the kid enjoyed it; I had certainly never done the sucking act so nicely to any one before, and when at last I tasted his spend, I knew he had come a good deal more into my mouth than he had before in my cunt.
I swallowed it, remembering the saying of one of our chorus girls that a draught of a young boy's spend was the best thing possible for the voice, and the whiskey and soda I took afterwards gained an added pleasure from the taste of the semen in my throat.
After that I judged it best to have supper to keep us going and I was about to send my little naked messenger downstairs to forage when I heard the back door bang. It was obviously the return of Thomson, so telling the boy to hide himself behind the curtains, I slipped on a dressing gown and went downstairs myself.
It was Thomson with a vengeance, for when I came through the half open door of the kitchen I found that young woman recumbent on the floor with an elongated soldier hard at work on top of her. Evidently my house was in a nasty mood that night.
'Thomson!' I cried indignantly. The soldier jumped up and awkwardly tried to replace a swollen penis in his tight trousers; Thomson simply looked an idiot. I waited till the man had beaten a hasty retreat and then feeling that I had been rather selfish, burst into a loud laugh.
