while her arms circled his neck. They both began swaying backward and forward. Then, with a firm forward thrust, he again drove it into her-just as I plunged my hand down the waist of my drawers and drove a finger into my own cunt! Ah, God! No one can describe the sensation I experienced at that moment as I immediately spent for the first time. My knees trembled beneath me; I gave a gasp, so intense was the thrill!
My finger, thrust to the last knuckle in my burning cunt, was bedewed with the thick starch-like fluid of my come. Streams of it, it seemed, gushed down my hand and forearm! But what's the use of trying to describe it to you, my friend? How many times have you complimented me when I poured that elixir of love into your willing lips? How many times have you told me I was the best suck you ever had? Who, then, is a better judge than yourself as to the amount I threw off that first time I fingered myself?
How many times have I longed to live over those first thrilling moments of my young life. But I must get on with this first installment of my story. After the sensations of feeling my finger in my own slit died down somewhat, I brought my attention once again to the young couple. He was still thrusting within her, but his movements were faster now, and the girl was rotating her hips furiously. Just then, her head arched back and she let out a wrenching sob. He also choked back a cry and rammed himself yet further into her. They held this pose for endless minutes, their only movement being the shuddering of their limbs. They became more quiet; her legs slid down from his back, and then, free of her clasp, he withdrew his cock from her. I noticed then that it was but half its former size. He took his seat beside her, but I noted how careful she was not to cover her charms.
Instead, she sat there, her skirt well above her waist, and for the first time I had an unhindered view of her pretty cunt. It was far larger than mine. Its color was deeper and it was surrounded with thick, black hair, while the cunt itself gaped open and a trickle of thick white stuff ran from the bottom and dripped on her skirt.
As her lover seated himself beside her, my cousin lifted her left thigh and placed it across his lap. Then she carried one of his hands to her cunt, and as his fingers divided the red lips and bored into the dark interior, she placed her nearest hand upon his half-limber cock and toyed with it. He slipped his arm about her and kissed her lips with soft, clinging kisses.
Now and then their lips would part and they would say something I couldn't hear, but at last, when it seemed she was about to eat him entirely with her passionate kisses, she said, “Now, Paul, darling, suck me off again!'
This time, instead of kneeling between her knees as he had previously done, he slid to the floor and lay full length on his back. For a long moment, she stood staring down at him. Then, with a deft motion of her hands, she swept the dress up to her breasts and fell astride his upturned face which disappeared into the thick fleece between her thighs!
Reaching out one hand, she grasped his cock, which was again in a wonderful state of erection, and worked it up and down, not unlike she had previously done. Then, her face wreathed in smiles, she leaned down and took it into her mouth and began sucking it in and out, while Paul massaged her cunt with his tongue!
She pulled back and let her lips lightly caress the very tip of his throbbing cock. Her tongue darted out in butterfly movements, laving the turgid head of his member with her moist kisses. Slowly, she sucked him into her mouth again, this time allowing the length of him to continue its penetration until her very nose rested on his balls. Slowly she pulled away again, sucking with all her might upon his thick tool. Once she had only the acorn-shaped tip in her mouth again, she sucked even harder, easing the morsel in and out between her lips. I could see the veins stand out from her neck with the incredible suction she was exerting. He freed his mouth from her gaping slit and cried out his pleasure. His fingers replaced his lips and tongue, frantically caressing her as he jerked his hips, burying his engorged cock in her waiting mouth.
I remember wondering at the time what I would do if a man were to place his hand on my cunt, to say nothing of kissing it! I knew I would have died on the spot!
Rising, at last, she turned and kissed his lips, saying, “You darling lover, you! Your come almost choked me, there was so much!'
Again I wondered what could have happened, but it was no use; it was far too much of a mystery for me to solve. I would have remained and watched more had not I been overtaken with another violent spasm of pleasure, and again my hand and arm were drenched with the creamy jism which gushed from me! My head was in a whirl! I was shocked beyond anything I had ever experienced!
I waited to see no more. Quietly I crept away and made my way to the pond. Here, without even the formality of removing my shoes and stockings, I waded in, not stopping until I was tittie-deep! However, after I had been in the water perhaps five minutes, I came to my senses somewhat, and realized what I had done. Knowing I had to face Mother and that I was due for a dreadful scolding, I went my sorrowful way back to the house. Fortunately, I was able to enter without being seen by her! Quickly I ran to my room, changed into dry clothing, and returned to the lower floor without a single soul ever becoming the wiser.
As I opened the door to go out again, the two lovers were walking up the gravel path toward the house. The tranquility on their faces defied one to even guess at the strenuous exercises in passion they had so recently indulged in. Despite my innocence, I marveled at this, for even the cool water of the pond had failed to quench the fire that raged within me.
Naturally, I was anxious to again witness those strange scenes between the two lovers, and shortly after dinner I was fortunate enough to see them again slipping off to the garden, where I was sure they would repeat their banquet of love. But just as I was about to follow them, a girlfriend entered the gate and came to me. She, like myself, was taking singing lessons at the parsonage. Being something of a pianist, she thought we could rehearse at home while she played. My chance of again witnessing the lovers’ duet was, of course, out of the question for the time being.
Do you understand now, dear friend, how I was being led into that carnal path from which there is no turning back? Is it any wonder that I became the rage of all Europe? Do you wonder that I was the talk of every city I visited?
But do not think for one moment that I am complaining of my past; I am not. I have been far too happy in my life to even think for a single moment that I have done wrong. Nor has it given me the slightest moment of regret as to whose company I kept, and I am sure that goes for the future, too.
That I believe I was born to love I can prove in a few brief words. Consider for a moment the young man who chooses Art as a profession. Some little thing has, perhaps, inspired him to paint. He takes up the study, and what happens? From the very first he is thrown in with painters-artists, we call them-and their instructors and fellow students. Everything is art in his life. He sees it, lives and breathes it and, so, in a few years, he becomes an artist; at least he's called one.
Take the case of the student who takes up medicine. In college, he hears nothing else. He attends classes, sees surgeons operate; his mind becomes imbued with surgery. And so, he in turn becomes a surgeon. Do you see what I mean?
Very well, then. Instead of becoming a painter or a surgeon, I took up the study of love-and all because I was reared in the very arms of love and lust.
Let me tell you of another delightful scene I witnessed, and this right in my own home. I had been assigned to another room, mine having been put to the disposal of one of our guests. It happens that this room adjoined the one occupied by Mother. It connected with hers by a door, over which was a transom. There was another entrance to my temporary room, but this led to the porch. I mention this door since it's to play a role in the scheme of things.
That evening at dinner, I remembered that the following day was Mother's birthday. After supper, the lovers suggested that we gather great bunches of flowers with which to decorate the house. I readily agreed. So, the following morning, we three were out gathering the multicolored buds, and by noon the house had been gaily decorated.
Accompanying the lovers-as I choose to refer to them-was never a bother, for I was treated to many thrilling sights. Indeed, they seemed to have gotten over the idea of hiding their lovemaking from me, and many times during their stay, I saw Paul's hands slide up beneath my cousin's dress. The day we gathered flowers was no exception. They toyed with and petted each other at every opportunity, and by suppertime, I was sure I was to witness another episode of their thrilling lovemaking. But in this, however, I was wrong; if anything went on it was after I had retired to my room.
But I wasn't to be deprived altogether. All evening my parents seemed gay and happy (a rare thing, I might mention), and as I went to my room, something seemed to prompt me to look into theirs. On the porch was a short
