This plaint seemed to afford him considerable amusement. He sat up in bed, laughing.
“Don't rate me so low socially, baby! I'm a sort of high-class chap with estatic inclinations!”
“I see; a special honor conferred on me. Quite a distinction, I must say.”
“Ha, ha, ha! Forgive me, baby. Word of honor, I'll behave quite properly in the future. Anyway, it wasn't so terrible, was it? Listen, I'll tell you a funny story. There was a young French girl just married and her mother was giving her some confidential advice. 'Daughter,' she said, 'the ultimate object of marriage is to have babies. Without the little dears no home is complete. However, the bearing and rearing of children is a confining task which imposes arduous and continuous obligations. It is my advice to you, daughter, that you do not have any babies during the first two or three years. You will then, in after life, not be deprived of the memories of a few years of happiness and freedom from care to which youth is justly entitled.' 'Ah, mother dear,' answered the blushing maiden, 'you need preoccupy yourself no further on that score. I shall never have any babies!' 'Never?' gasped the mother, 'why do you say that you will never have any babies, darling?' 'Oh, mother,' answered the girl, hiding her blushing face in the maternal bosom, 'I shall never have any babies because I simply can't force myself to swallow the horrid stuff! I always have to spit it out!' ”
“And, so what?” I asked caustically, refusing to unbend at the ridiculous story.
“Don't you see, ha, ha, ha, don't you get the point? She didn't even know there was any other way of doing it. She thought she had to swallow the stuff to get a baby!”
Despite my efforts to remain haughty, my better humor was returning. I have always been like that, quick to anger, quick to forget. There was something about this man which was irresistible. Even his impudence had a saving grace, an ingenuous, disarming quality. Only the memory of the slap he had given me remained to irritate me. He sat there in bed, smiling, a sheet draped carelessly about him, half-concealing, half-revealing the smooth white muscles of his torso. His hair in its ruffled disorder gave him a boyish aspect, throwing a well-formed white forehead into relief against the background of bluish-black curls.
After all, what harm had really been done? And, I suddenly recalled, had he not earlier in the night given me a most delightful ten minutes by putting his tongue in my cunny? The service he had required of me was no less intimate. I shivered involuntarily at the recollection of the short but delicious episode. The last remnants of my resentment faded away. I began to feel slightly ashamed of myself for having made such a commotion.
“Still peeved at me, baby?” he inquired quizzically.
“No,” I answered, my lips twitching into a smile, “only it was kind of… well, startling to be waked up that way from a sound sleep. I suppose you don't believe me, but I never did that before.”
“Of course I believe you, baby,” he interrupted, “it was easy to see you hadn't any experience. Honestly, I don't know what came over me. You gave me such a stand tonight it came right back on me after I'd been asleep a short time. I woke up, and lay there looking at your pretty little mouth in the dim light, and he first thing I knew I got into a fierce argument with myself about it.”
“What on earth do you mean, an argument with yourself about my mouth?”
“Well, it was like this. At first I said to myself, it's too small, and then I said, no, it might be a tight fit, but it could be done. And the argument went on, until finally it got so hot it had to be decided definitely one way or the other, and so… and so…”
“And so I got fucked in the mouth to settle, it. Very well, Your Highness, shall we retire now, or is there any other way I can serve you?”
“Well, if it's not putting too much of a strain on your hospitality, I'd greatly appreciate a shot of brandy!”
I rang for the maid. After a long wait, she shuffled to the door half-asleep, took the order, and was back again in five minutes with the liquor. When this was consumed, we turned out the light and again composed ourselves for sleep.
The tumultuous events of the night, abetted perhaps by the brandy of which I also partook, were reflected throughout the remaining hours in a regular phantasmagoria of distorted dreams. In all these dreams I was sucking somebody's cock. Strangely enough, in them I felt no inhibitions, no reluctance. On the contrary, I seemed to be doing something quite natural, and which caused me the most delightful erotic reactions.
At first it was Rene as I had last seen him, but with an incongruous discrepancy in time which took us back to our old attic playroom days. “I'm going to do something nice to you,” I whispered, and placing myself on my knees before him I unbuttoned his trousers and releasing his erected cock, took it in my mouth. “No, no, Sis!” he protested, but he made no effort to escape the seductive caress. The thrill of vicarious delight was trembling through me when I suddenly observed that Hester was standing nearby, looking at me reproachfully. I paused for a moment to tell her that it was all right, that Rene was only a foster brother, but even as I spoke, I saw that it was not Rene but Mr. Hayden to whom I was ministering. From this confusing tangle of composite personalities, I drifted into another ambient. The effeminate Wainwright was licking my cunny deliciously, and as he paused for a moment to masturbate, I twisted around and cried: “Wait! I'll show you a better way!” With my thighs across his face I took his small but rigid member in my mouth and sucked it until he had an emission.
When I finally awoke it was late noon and the echoes of some of these lurid dreams were still reverberating through my brain. I felt wet and sticky between the legs and my clitoris was in erection. When I had gotten my confused thoughts in order and separated the real from the unreal, I sat up in bed and glanced at-my companion.
He was sleeping soundly and quietly on his back, his curly head high on the pillow, lips slightly parted over white even teeth. He had thrown the blankets aside and was covered only by a sheet. I glanced downward over the recumbent form. Halfway down its length the sheet rose sharply, projected upward in the form of a little tent. As I fixed my eyes on this significant pinnacle-like projection, I saw that it was jerking sharply at short intervals.
I lifted the sheet without disturbing him. That indefatigable, tireless cock was standing upright, as firm and rigid as a bar of iron. White and graceful the stout column rose from the profusion of dark and tangled curls at its base, its plum-colored head half-hidden, half-revealed under its natural envelope of satiny skin.
Still holding the sheet up, I looked at his face. It was in the peaceful repose of sound sleep. I thought of my curious dreams and wondered if he too was experiencing rare delights with some nebulous shadowland houri; maybe, even he was dreaming of me!
The thought set me aquiver. Softly I drew the sheet aside. I extended my hand, my fingers closed cautiously around the pulsing column. For a moment I was content to hold it thus, then, watching his face carefully for signs of awakening, I moved my hand up and down, slowly, gently, so that the silken foreskin closed over the scarlet head and then, receding downward, revealed it in its stark-nakedness.
Twice, thrice, I moved it so, pausing after each movement to see whether it was going to awaken him. At the fourth or fifth movement he stirred uneasily, murmuring some incoherent word. I waited, motionless, until his even breathing assured me that he was still deep in slumber, and began again.
“When he wakes up,” I thought, “I'll make him tell me what he was dreaming about that made his thing hard this way.”
My wrist slid downward, the white elastic skin descended, and again the scarlet head protruded nakedly. As I paused, holding it in this position, I saw a round, glistening drop of limpid transparency emerge slowly from the orifice at the tip.
As I observed this natural reaction to my manipulations a wave of lewdness swept over me, and in an instant I was in a state of passion bordering on nymphomania, dominated by but one thought, one driving desire, arid that was to feel the rigid, pulsating thing plunging in my mouth, to suck it and lick it until the spurting essence brought relief to the frenzy which now possessed me.
I literally flung myself upon it, indifferent now as to whether he was awake or asleep, and engulfed the ruby head within the circle of my lips. In a regular fury of lust I sucked and licked and bobbed my head up and down to approximate the motions of ordinary fucking.
Of course, this violent disturbance aroused my companion instantly, but I was too engrossed in my own passion to be hardly more than aware that he was sitting up in bed, and that his hands were clasping my face as though to guide the movements of my bobbing head.
Indifferent to all else I sought only to force the living fountain between my lips to pour out its elixir as quickly as possible. Instinctively I knew that when it spurted fourth, my own organism would yield in harmony. It was trembling now in that delicious borderland of anticipation, and needed but the final inspiration to precipitate its own shower of lust.
Between my thrusting, encircled lips the muscular flesh seemed suddenly to grow more taut. It held so for a
