morning of the ceremony he came at seven o'clock and wanted me to suck him so that I should have some come in my stomach… Mother said that under those conditions it was hardly worth bothering to have a first communion, but he had given a hundred francs and… And that was only the beginning. What a day! I can really look back and call that day my first one as a real whore. All my lovers came and wanted to take me under my communion dress, and they all wanted to cornhole me! There were twelve of them. Can you imagine that? We didn't eat until nine in the evening on that day, and I was cornholed five times! Five times! And I sucked four men! I don't know how the other three came, but my pretty white dress was as full of come as if it had been dipped in it. I'll never forget that first communion!”
Charlotte shook her head with a smile that seemed somehow consoled. Her sadness had completely gone, and she narrated her story vivaciously. She ruined the effect several times in trying to prepare it, like all young girls who are inexperienced at telling tales, but her errors only served to underline the ingenuousness of the rest of her story.
“I know you're not expecting what I'm going to tell you now, but really I've seen everything in my life. A year after that first communion five dirty little urchins made fun of me because I was still a virgin!”
I've got to admit that at this point in Charlotte's narrative if I was expecting a coup de theatre she hadn't come up with it.
“I promised you,” she said, “the story of all the hairs in my ass, and we've only begun. I was twelve years old and I'd been a whore for four of them when my pubic hair first began to sprout. But they didn't take long once they got started. By the end of six months I was as hairy as a woman of thirty.
“You're beginning to know me now. I never was one of those passionate girls who take you by the hand and say, 'I'm burning up inside…' No. I don't burn, but I overflow often and for no reason at all. And when my cunt is flowing I want to finger myself. And when I want to finger myself, I do it.”
She turned over laughing. Her good humor had transformed her completely.
“So it was when I was twelve that I learned how to beat myself off and began to do it as much as I pissed. And now I can't even say that truthfully because, today for example, I haven't pissed as often as I've come.
“Mama always advised me to finger myself when there was someone cornholing me, obviously, but she was also happy to see that I would do it alone in front of her too. And since I was very clumsy at first, she had the patience to teach me herself, first doing it with her own finger and then taking mine in her hand to help me. God, how stupid I was! When I think that my mother had to take my hand in hers to teach me how to finger myself!
“At that time I was still going to school and we were living in a part of Marseilles where there were hardly any whores and even fewer virgins. I think that all the girls at school fucked more or less often: some with their brothers, others with their fathers, their cousins, their neighbors… I knew one little wretch who used to brag that she would give herself at least six good ones every evening against a paling at a construction site near! her home. There was another one I knew named I Clara who was as skinny as a little skeleton. You! could even see the bones in her buttocks, and she! didn't have a hair on her body. Once, in front! of me, she sobbed to a woman of forty that she! had to sleep every night between her two brothers I and that they did it to her both at once, one from! the front and the other from behind, they were! so hard up. And the woman replied, 'Ah! Howl I'd like to take your place!' I've got some real) memories of my childhood.
“One time I was in a corner of the schoolyard! with five of my girlfriends and each was telling how she beat herself off. When I said (without mentioning mama) that I stuck a candle in my rear while I rubbed at my snatch they thought it was terrific and invited me to come with them into a little garden at the home of one of them, a girl named Regine. There we were going to show each other everything and amuse ourselves like little queens. That was a day when mama had to go out in the evening, so I followed my little friends and then…
“Ah! The things that happened to me that day! But first I have to tell you that I had one of those virgin cunts that you hardly ever see; a mere pencil mark on my body. The other five lifted their skills first: none of them were virgins; the three youngest had no hair whatsoever, and the other two had only a little light down. When they lifted my skirt and saw my virgin slit surrounded by a great tuft of black hair they screamed with laughter. They'd never seen such a thing. Then, you know, the little beasts made a ring around me and danced around repeating their same filthy little joke over and over: 'Look at the bearded virgin, the bearded virgin, the bearded virgin! Look at the bearded virgin, the bearded virgin, the bearded virgin!'
“I was crying with rage when I told mama about it that evening; and very few things have ever been more important to me in my life, for mama decided that my girlfriends had been right about two things.
“First of all, she said that I had too much pubic hair for my age. And you'll never be able to guess what mama did for me! Do you know, she found the time and patience to shave me herself for three years after that! And it wasn't easy to do, because I had hair everywhere, under my arms, on my stomach, in my pussy, on my thighs, and even between my buttocks. When I was fifteen I still had a shaved cunt like a harem girl, and everyone liked it like that, from lesbians to men. I don't know why they've never done that to Ricette.
“Next, when mama saw how ashamed I was to still be a virgin, and that all my friends made fun of me because of it, she promised to find someone to break it, knowing very well that I'd never do it myself.
“But first… Have you ever broken a girl's cherry?”
“Yes and it isn't funny. You're a very good girl not to have yours now, especially since it was only a pencil mark.”
“Good! Then suppose that someone said to you: here's a kid named Charlotte. She's twelve years old; you can cornhole her in any position you want; you can come in her mouth; she'll lick your stomach, suck your balls, kiss your ass, and do anything you want. She will eat out her mother in front of you or cornhole herself with a dildoe, etc., etc. And all that will cost you only twenty francs. But if you want to take her virginity it'll cost you ten thousand. What would you say?”
“I'd say it was one hell of a lousy joke.”
“Then it wouldn't surprise you if I had to wait a long time before I lost my virginity and that Ricette still has hers.
“Besides, mother was really in no hurry. I had learned to take it from the rear and she was happy. And all the more since the older I got the better I liked it. What good would learning to fuck do me?
“But I was really happy when the time came for me to learn something new. Guess what. Look at me and if you like what I'm talking about you'll be able to guess… You can't guess? Then it's because you don't like it… Flagellation!”
“You're right. I don't like it at all. But why are you so good at that?”
“Because I cry like a fountain and that makes the people who like it happy.”
“My poor Charlotte!”
“For the twentieth time: you don't know what being a whore is like. Imagine this scene: here am I, age thirteen, dressed in a black schoolgirl's apron with pigtails down my back, on my knees next to the bed, my dress pulled up… I hold up my buttocks. My little ass, which will naturally be cornholed at the end of the session, is in the air with the shaven cunt beneath it. And a man stands there whipping me with all his might, only getting a hard-on when I burst out sobbing. Of course, mama was always there to make sure they didn't kill me, but all the same… What a time! And it was always on those days that the things happened that I told you about earlier. The man who did those things to me used to bring his mistress with him, a great horse of a woman who looked even more ferocious than he. He would cornhole her on top of me then take his prick out of her ass and make me lick it so hard that I would always wind up crying. He liked that so much one time that he began to play with his cock in my mouth until he finally came, and then he blamed me for having made him discharge too soon, because he had also wanted to stick it into my whipped behind. He gave me such a slap in the face that, although my lips were shut tightly, the come squirted out of my mouth like the juice out of an orange.”
“Your mother permitted all this?”
“Now don't speak badly of mother. I've seen her whipped harder than me and it hurt me more than it did her.”
“That's typical of you. And was the gentleman happy?”
“Probably. I never cried so hard in my life as the night he gave my mother such a slash with the whip that she was bleeding from the lip of her cunt to the middle of her ass. I thought I was going to have a fit. After that, mama never tried that sort of thing again for 'almost two years!”
Charlotte sat dreaming for a second and then smiled vaguely.
