I have been with a good many men in my time and I know something of the feeling of the spunk-jets within one. But never have I had such a dousing. It overflowed and my legs were covered with the strong, sticky liquid. Patrick shuffled to his feet and buttoned his member back into his trousers. I fainted away!
When I came to, I was in bed with the landlady by my side. I don't think the lust had quite left her eyes, but she was apologetic. ''Twas a mad, mad thing to do,' she crooned, 'but I was that wild at finding yez naked, and tied like dogs yez were, but I'd have let my wickedness go ungainsayed, I wud. Know yez not that ony soul can cum intil yer room of a morning and by St. Patrick, had it been the praste, its the police he would ha called, and me wid nivir a lodger in the house agin, if not put to jail. Sure too, it wasna such a bad thing for a coleen likes of ye to be mated with Patrick Henessey, the biggest man of all the town, sure there's mony an eye after him.'
'Oh, I daresay,' I admitted feebly, 'we were wrong and perhaps the punishment was not so bad, but think of the scandal if it were found out.'
'Found out,' she cried, 'not one word shall be breathed outside this house; and to shame your blushes, Shamus and Patrick will be in the country for the rest of the week; my darter will come and see to things for yez.'
I think Jean was inclined to bluster and talk of moving elsewhere, but I was terrified of a scandal and a move would have necessitated all sorts of explanations. Probably the arrival of the daughter satisfied him, for she was a delicate sample of a cuddlesome, bonny Irish girl, of whom the old hag of a mother was justly proud, and explained that she kept her away in the country owing to the fear that the young sparks of Dublin would 'cross' her.
'A virgin she is!' she exclaimed with some pride, as if the article was a rarity. 'Not even the praste has touched her yet.'
'The priest!' I said, amazed at the suggestion.
'Arrah, of course, who but the praste is better to take the coleen's maidenhead? Shure niver a sowl crossed me afore I was wed to my own man but the howly father, and a red-headed child did I bear to his reverence.'
I concealed my astonishment at the time, but I subsequently learned that the priests had a pretty fair run of the fair frequenters at confession. I wonder they had missed our little maid, Kathleen. About seventeen she was, full fledged and full figured for her age, with firm round breasts, a marble pillar of a neck, luscious lips, and great loving eyes.
The week slipped quickly by and I was very happy. Jean was sweet to me and never alluded to the awkward affair in the kitchen. He made no more pretence and with the landlady's full consent, brazenly slept with me. What halcyon nights those were. I was in perfect state of animal health and my body incessantly ready for lustful caresses. Jean did his very best; he trained for it, abjured whiskey and drank lots of Burgundy. His cock, of course, was not often in that state of erection as I could wish but it was seldom that he could not oblige me in some way.
Our day's programme was fairly regular. The landlady brought a cup of tea at 8:45. This consumed, I let my hand slide over Jean's body till I discovered the state of his penis. If it wasn't stiff, a little delicate manipulation of the finger tips soon settled that; sometimes I had to dive my head beneath the bedclothes and press my lips to its reluctant tip-that always did the trick AT ONCE-the dear thing shot up in-stanter, his hands gripped me and in a moment his warm belly was pressed on mine-we always slept stark naked. That fuck-the first-was always generally very quick.
After that we bathed and played about with each other till after breakfast, which we took in dressing gowns. We had fine appetites for that and the meal gave us an appetite for more fucking. This (the second fuck) was always more elaborate. We tried various ways, nature had given him a long flexible tongue, which he could run far into my quivering vagina. But this second seance generally ended in legitimate fashion.
So much for the morning. I went with Jean to the theatre, we looked at our letters, etc., and then I left him with the boys to play billiards or to drink, or to do what he liked. During that time, as often as not, I went for walks by myself or sometimes with one of the girls-but I was not too popular in the company. I was, frankly, too pretty, and my affair with Jean to say nothing of the obvious attention paid me by Restall, created a great deal of jealousy.
We dined at 2:30, smoked and chatted till four as a rule, a pleasant time of laziness and gossip, and then went to 'lie down' till theatre time. That same lying down meant something else of course. I always took off nearly everything, and Jean undressed to his shirt. Then we had an hour's improper caressing, an hour's improper talk, and a long, long, fuck. Then I generally got on top of Jean, for I was afraid the burden of his weight might tire me for the theatre-no amount of fucking ever could.
At 6:30 we were called for tea and at 7:15 we were generally in the theatre. Sometimes a little love-making happened during the show. Jean had a dressing room to himself-and a long wait. I used to slip in and talk to him. Of course he could do nothing to me because of my tights, but I loved him enough to forgo my share of the pleasure and minister to his needs by sucking him-though, gentle readers, that is no inconsiderable pleasure for a girl who is wicked-natured, and who is fond of man.
And now we come to the night. We always had three fucks before finally going to sleep. It didn't hurt me, I was as strong as a tigress and could have obliged ten men a day, had I not been so fond of Jean.
I was honestly, gaily (if wickedly) happy! Till the Saturday night of the week. Jean had a very bad throat, it was obviously impossible for him to sing and he gave his understudy a chance.
It was not till we were half way through the first act that I remembered that I had given the landlady a ticket at the theatre that night and consequently Jean was left all alone with the bewitchingly pretty little daughter. That fact gave me a pang, but I dismissed the suspicion as unworthy.
I saw the old landlady sitting in front alone, the daughter was obviously at home, and I think it was in turning my head to look at her once more that I tripped on a brace in making my exit, in Act II, and fell heavily, turning my foot; further work was of course out of the question for me. They put me in a cab and bundled me home.
I unlocked the front door with my key and slipped in. The sitting room was empty, but there was a streak of light under the bedroom door. I turned the handle softly and went in.
It had happened! They were in there, naked as the first inhabitants of the Garden of Eden and hard at it, so engrossed, that for a moment they did not see me.
Jean was working for all he was worth, and the little Irish bitch had him gripped as in a vice. So beautiful did the girl look, what I could see of her, that I forgot to be angry. Then feeling rather foolish and as I noticed how engrossed they were-they were obviously nearing the end, judging by the panting breaths-I slipped out of the room and made a great clatter in the dining room.
Presently the girl came out; she looked very sheepishly at me. 'Mister Messel had not been so well,' she mumbled, 'and I've been making a poultice for his poor throat.'
A nice sort of poultice I thought to myself, a sort of flesh poultice, that a good many men would like.
I made no answer and the girl went into the kitchen.
'Is that you, Nemmy?' came in Jean's tones.
'Yes!' and I went in.
'Why are you home so early?'
'I slipped and hurt myself.'
'I am sorry.'
'And so am I, rather,' I said, 'I'd rather not have known what I do now; I'd rather have been able to trust you. Couldn't you be true to me- after all our love, this week too?'
'I've done nothing!'
'Don't talk nonsense. I came into the room a moment ago but you were so full of your dirt that you didn't see me. Isn't one woman enough for you? You ought to be so glad to have a girl like me for your own, that no other woman could possibly attract you.'
He made lame excuses, far the best being that he took it as a form of revenge for what happened to me at the beginning of the week.
It was not till after supper, when I had my ankle bandaged and was resting more comfortably and was more, kindly disposed towards the world, that he made candid confessions. It was the old story-that attraction of virginity-'not even the priest had crossed her' and there was a flood of blood on the bed to prove it; Jean had the pluck to slice his arm with a razor to account for that.
Under the influence of several drinks and a good deal of affectionate fumbling, I listened to the beast's proud story of how he made the girl consent.
