playing in my damp, trembling mouth.
My laving mouth pulled her nipple far out, her hips working in unison against mine as my sword entered and rose, her cunt hanging tightly to it in sexual loveliness. I now abandoned her nipple and sought instead her rosebud mouth, finding it in damp beauty, and my tongue penetrated her mouth, washing and loving her tongue, which met mine in sweet and hot duel of love.
With my mouth loving every crevice of her mouth, with my prick moving up and down and her grasping it, pulling it-why, a wine cask could not have been more securely stoppered!
But a wine cask does not jerk and go limp and jerk again in convulsive spasms, and neither do wine casks lash furiously about as her hips and body were now doing.
For one long moment, when my knob hung only in her damp tight cunt, I had a wild desire to withdraw from her and pierce her in the anus, fucking her as did the male homosexuals, one on the other with the top one having his knob in the other's asshole.
Then her hips came slashing up, grabbing my cock and pulling it deep inside her and, as my knob stormed the gate of her womb, her hips twisted this way, then that, and then twisted back, and my prick tingled with savage, inhuman delight.
I closed my eyes, mouth still on hers. We fucked then, fucked thoroughly, fucked happily, fucked deeply-and we didn't care if we were in love or not, and we were not in love, of course.
We just were two happy humans, one fucking the other, the other fucking the one-and I felt my rocks sink back and up, my semen trembling in them to launch itself soon in this hot, hugging cunt.
And she, feeling the stiffness grow, good young whore that she was, sensed I was ready to breed her, and she began to thrash with renewed violence-a violence so great I thought, for one moment, she would topple from her bed to the floor, taking me down crashingly with her.
I rode her, grasping her rounded, firm buttocks, my fingers braced in her spreading crack, my thumbs resting on her asshole. The violence of her increased as her ovaries broke into roaring climax.
I felt her white expression hit my prick, my cock loving each stroke into her dampness. Her legs, soft and yielding, circled my buttocks, pulling my cock down even deeper into her womanhood.
I felt sucked into her. I was the son, the heir, trying desperately and foolishly to climb back into the only security I'd ever known-the red warm-ness of the womb.
She was the mother, the producer of man, and she wanted me again in her damp womb, nestled and circled and secure.
Yes, she was like the sea-the eternal mother of men. And her saw, her personality, her lunging, grabbing hips, was a vortex, sucking me down, down, down-and then my testicles, rising to the occasion, spewed into her my semen, white and moist and much.
I went in great, gulping spasms. I stopped going, and then I started again; she milked my prick, pulling and massaging like the milkmaid stripping the last of the milk from a patient cow.
I was on trial. My manhood was on trial. I punched and grabbed, my fingers now deep in her crack, my thumbs unconsciously entering her lunging, opening and closing asshole.
“I come, I come,” I muttered, my ears roaring, the world a dark place slashed by naked, jagged lightning. Thus did my manhood leave my rocks, finding sweet haven in her vagina.
Finally, we began to quiet, our hips settling down, then quitting. And she smiled up at me, teeth flashing.
“We fuck good together. Perhaps I am with child. I shall not rebel, for the child came from a good father.”
“I thank you,” I said, my cock going limp, her warmness receding, my penis pulling back, expended.
“We should fuck again,” she said. “I am just a whore but I know a master cocksman when he has his tool between my hips. There are tricks I can teach you, m'lord.”
“Such as what?” She challenged me. I knew some tricks, too.
She smiled up at me. I was on elbows, leaning less hard on her nipples, which had become softer, passion being expended.
“You have entered up the-well, the rectum?”
“One of my favorite methods,” I said. “The anus-ah, let's be blunt and call it the asshole, huh? — has much muscles.”
“I have a very developed asshole, m'lord. I could fairly pull your sword from out of its sheath, I promise.”
“I must rest for a moment, then we shall try that method.”
The madam-a floozy bitch with dyed red hair-stuck her head in the door. “You have an old client awaiting in the other bedroom, my whore,” she told my bought woman. “I shall tend to him.”
The red ugly head disappeared? the door closed softly. “Leave my money on the table,” the little girl said. “Now, I must tend to my other client. Then I shall come to you, m'lord, for a delightful hour of anal penetration, to cite it politely.”
“I shall be recharged by then,” I assured.
“I must rise, m'lord, and you are heavy on me. And I cannot rise, you know, with you still on me, and I have another request to make that I hope does not anger you, m'lord.”
“Another request, lady?” I asked, puzzled.
“Yes. I cannot rise with you having both your thumbs impaling my asshole, you know.”
I realized, for the first time, where my thumbs were buried. I laughed. She laughed. I removed my thumbs from her asshole and my body from off her breasts.
She clambered from the bed, whiteness rimming her cunt. She squatted over a washbasin, splashed a bit of water upward, and then wiped, her hair glistening brilliantly under the water's protective coat.
“Soon I shall return for what you know what, m'lord.”
“I shall wait.”
“I want the coins on the table when I return, or there shall be no anal penetration. One must eat and pay, you know.”
“My coins shall be there,” I assured.
She bent then, breasts sagging, and her lips brushed the tip of my limp, sunken penis. “Little darling, I shall make you rise again.”
Then she was gone, naked, her back to me, buttocks rising, falling, and I saw her asshole occasionally. She went through a door to another room, and the last I saw of her, at that time, was the flashing of her full hips.
My semen rested within those sweet hips. It lay along her vagina, close to the door of her womb, and was it mingled, even now, in reproduction with her discharges, abundant and hot?
Absently, I raised my right thumb. I noticed it was brown. It smelled of her body, her sexual apparatus. I thought of my cocksman uncle, and pride swelled me, for had my uncle seen me fucking he would have exclaimed, “Well done, well done, nephew. I have taught you well, have I not?”
Unconsciously, I began licking my thumb.
And I loved what I licked….
The Second Episode
I have an acquaintance who is a published author of romances. He is an insufferable bore. He arrives unannounced at all hours. This particular day he arrived at eleven something in the morning, just as I was donning my clothes.
“Why do you sleep so late?” he asked.
“Because I want to,” I replied, pulling on hose.
“Were you sleeping with a woman last night?”
I looked sharply at him. How had he guessed the truth? Only by pure coincidence, I realized, and then I realized, also, that perhaps, at long last, I was getting the reputation of being a cocksman. My dead father-and my beloved uncle in the West Indies-had great and strong reputations throughout London as superb cocksmen.
