gently press the lips of your cunt together and tickle your clitoris, this little kind of tongue, a veritable imitation of his own prick, but much smaller; then he will slip his big middle finger deep into your cunnie, and tickle you here.' She slipped hers in and found the narrow, tight inner entrance, which she set on fire immediately with her caressing, making me involuntarily spend.
'You quick little darling!' she exclaimed. 'How you do spend! Won't you just like being fucked? Well, now I must not use you up in that way. Keep your spend for when we will have another bout of rub-cunnie. Now, Susan,' she continued, again taking possession of my glowing bubbies, 'you can feel, even from my poor little feminine hand, how very sensitive your cunt is all about the entrance. It is sensitive all along its whole depth, but the sensitive portion par excellence is about the entrance. The difference between a good fucker and an indifferent one, is in the fact that the really good fucker knows this and does his best to produce the most ecstatic pleasure in you by cultivating this extra sensitivity of the cunnie. Imagine your man now with his two knees between yours. He leans over, but not upon you. He supports himself on his elbow. You take his prick, and plant its head justly and neatly between the lips of your cunnie. Then you put your arms round his waist and, with a little pressure on his part, in goes his prick, quite over the shoulder of its head. Its hood slips back, and you feel the sweet thing filling the outer vestibule of your cunt. Then he draws back until he is almost out, and smoothly and gently pushes in again. This time, with an indescribable thrill, you feel that big head force its way sweetly past the inner, narrow entrance. That thrill is worth a fortune, it is so delicious. Then he draws back until he is almost out; with more decided sweeps he thrusts his powerful swelling prick in, passes the narrows, and buries it half-way in your throbbing and beating cunnie. These movements he continues, always drawing almost out, always gaining, by gentle but smoothly repeated thrusts, ground in your cunt. Presently, and all too quickly, you feel his pendant balls touch you beneath your cunnie. Then they beat more firmly against you, and last of all his belly, which has been touching yours all along, presses yours; his hairy motte mingles its brush with yours; your cushion feels his, and his last thrust brings your bodies into the most intimate and close contact. Now the real delight begins. Every stroke, every thrust he gives, is from head to heel of his prick. He gives you long, smooth, deliberate thrusts; every line of those long seven or eight inches tells upon you. You come, you spend, time after time, yet not a drop goes outside. His prick, so to say, closes your cunnie tightly, and your spend only makes its movements more easy inside you. As your pleasure increases, so does his. Presently his agonies of delight begin. All his nerves seem concentrated in the head of his prick, until his sensations are so vivid as almost to take his senses away. Then begin the all too short, as time is concerned, short digs. He shortens his strokes but quickens them, banging his balls against you with great force. Then suddenly he spends, pouring out the fullest riches of his manly strength. You feel it flowing fast into you, like a torrent, like a powerful artery shooting its blood into you. He presses you as though he would crush you into pulp. He forces his prick in, even further than you would think possible. Your downy motte is flattened by his, and all Heaven and its Glories seem open to you! It is over. You have been fucked, and well fucked. Then comes a delightful interval of repose. He lets his body lie all along yours, and he kisses you and pets you and calls you all the pretty things he thinks of. His manly bosom rests on your heaving bubbies, your cunnie, if it has the nutcrackers, tightens and loosens on his prick, giving him further delight. Your motte throbs against his, until you become conscious that his prick does not fill you quite so much as it did, and you feel it gradually slipping out. Your lover gets from between your thighs, and lies on his side, clasping you with his arms, and locking his thighs with yours, as mine do now. The fuck is at an end, and cannot be repeated until his prick stands again.'
'What are the nutcrackers, Lucia?' said I gasping for breath. My heart was in my throat with the emotion her description had raised.
'The nutcrackers, darling,' said she, 'are when your cunnie grasps his prick, as it were, like this,' she continued, taking my wrist in her hand, and clasping it at intervals of time with her forefinger and thumb. 'It must be the muscles about the narrow entrance that do it, for my lovers always tell me that they feel the tightening of my cunt about two inches up from their balls, and only there.'
'I say, Lucia!'
'What, darling?'
'Do you know by what geographical expression our cunts ought to be called?'
'No. What do you mean?' said Lucia, laughing.
'Why, the Red Sea to be sure! Just inside the lips should be the Gulf of Aden, where it is pretty wide; the narrows should be the Bab-el-Mandeb Straits; and the rest the Red Sea.'
'Capital, darling! I'll tell Gladys, who will laugh, I know. Now,' she continued, stroking my cunnie in a lively manner, 'now, open your thighs again, my own sweetest darling, dear Susan, and let me have you again.'
Nothing loth I did so, and soon Lucia was thrilling both herself and me with the pleasure her up and down strokes gave to each of us. At last she made me so tremendously excited that I could lie quiet no longer. I clasped her to my belly with all my might, and as, her cunnie swept down over mine, I gave a vigorous push up with mine. The result was delicious. Both Lucia and I gave vent to a little cry of pleasure, for it so happened that her stiff little clitoris had just reached mine, and my push up made these delicate, charmingly sensitive, little organs penetrate, slightly indeed, but still penetrate, our respective cunnies. The immediate consequence was copious spendings on either side. Lucia kissed me frantically, gave up the sweeping movement, and pushed her cunt straight at mine. Our clitorises rubbed in a most ravishing manner, as we writhed and thrust, and thrust and writhed, and spent time after time, until fairly exhausted, the perspiration standing in little pearls on our foreheads, we relaxed our hold on one another, and Lucia, resuming her place by my side, lay panting, but quiet. At length she said, 'How Nature does teach, Susan!' 'Yes, dear,' said I, still struggling for breath, 'but how?' 'But how?' she cried. 'Listen to her. “But how?” Why, what made you give such a delicious buck, darling? It had not entered my head to tell you. I never did it with any girl, myself, and would not have believed it could been of any use had it been proposed. What made you do it?' 'Do you mean why did I push up?' 'Yes, why did you buck, as pushing up is called?' 'Buck rhymes with fuck, does it not, Lucia?' 'Of course, and cunt with hunt, prick with lick, balls with halls, bush with push, and so on, but what has that to do with your bucking, Susan?'
'I can't tell you, darling,' said I, kissing her, 'I only know I could not lie quiet any longer, and so I gave a buck up, like a horse does when his rider spurs him too much.'
'Well, Susan! I can only say that if ever a girl was created for the purpose of fucking, you are she. You seem to take to it like a babe does to its mother's breast. Ah! I do envy the fellows who will have you. I know right well they will think your cunt Heaven.' 'I don't know, Lucia! They may not like it at all.' 'Oh, won't they? A man likes a girl to show that he gives her pleasure. They don't like buck-jumping horses, but they do love a good bucking girl, and you do it as if you had been trained to it.' 'Well, no one trained me, Lucia, as you know, for I did not imagine any pleasure, such as you have given me, was ever to be extracted from my cunnie. But do you buck when a man is fucking you?'
'Oh yes, but there is an art in it.'
'How?'
'Well, you see, the object of bucking is to get in the very last quarter-inch of the fellow's prick, which would probably remain outside if you did not buck; to get a good strain onto his balls; to get a good squeeze together of your two mottes. All that adds to the pleasure for both of you. The time to buck is when you feel his balls begin to touch you, then begin a gentle upward stroke, or perhaps a kind of circular stroke, ending with a good bump against his motte. If you begin too soon, you hurry his stroke, a thing to be avoided because you make him spend too soon; the buck should, as I say, be so scientifically done as to complete the entire swallowing up of his prick in your cunnie!'
'I see. Now tell me, Lucia, if I have learnt the lesson right. When a man fucks you, he ought to get his prick in little by little?'
'Just so!'
'Then, after he has once got it in the whole way, he should draw it all but out, and then with one long sweeping stroke, bring it in right up to his balls?'
'Right up to his motte, darling, for his balls touch you first.'
Ah, yes, right up to his motte. Then he should go on so, until he begins to feel that he can no longer withhold his spend, and then he is to fuck like fury.'
'Just so-like fury,' repeated Lucia, laughing and kissing me.
'Well then! Should I buck like fury too?'
'No, because, unless you kept exact time, you might throw him off his stroke. The best way, then, is to raise
