“No; there's nothing doing. I'm going to turn in.”
“Listen, Hester, I'm nervous. Sleep in here with me tonight.”
“All right, I'll get my… no! I won't either! I know what you're thinking about, you nasty little pervert!”
“Please, Hester!”
“I will not! Get the electric massage machine or jack yourself off if you're so hot!”
“Please, Hester!”
“What in the world is the matter with you, Jessie? Don't you ever get enough? You ought to have yourself castrated!”
“Please, Hester!”
“Oh, all right, all right, you disgusting little degenerate!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Six weeks went by with Monty visiting me regularly, and week by week I found myself sinking deeper into the fatal fascination of the sexual perversion into which he had initiated me. I do not think he was responsible for the unnatural desire which was now dominating me, I think he was merely the casual and accidental medium through which existing but dormant instincts were, aroused.
Like the Succubus of ancient Rome my sexual desires were now almost entirely concentrated in this one act. My inclinations for other forms of gratification were diminishing. Normal intercourse was only an aphrodisiacal irritant if it were not followed by cocksucking. I still masturbated to calm my nerves, but it was always with fellatio pictured in my mind as I realized the act.
In my hours of passion I felt an actual physical hunger for the spermatic nectar. It was as though it contained some vital, sustaining element necessary to my health and well-being, and the first taste as I perceived its saline presence in my mouth precipitated the wildest sexual frenzy. When it came pouring into my throat my own organism responded instantly, without mechanical stimulation of any kind. I no longer tried to spit it out as the hot waves laved my tongue; I drank it avidly, hungrily.
It is said that the cocksucking instinct is the heritage of children whose mothers, while in an advanced stage of pregnancy, and because of the discomfort or danger of normal intercourse while in this condition, have themselves resorted to fellatio, thereby afflicting the unborn child with the unnatural desire. Whether there is any scientific foundation for this theory, or whether it is mere superstition I do not know, but I feel certain, with respect to myself, that the instinct was inherent and not artificially created.
Without any special guidance, refinements and perfections of the art constitute in part its irresistible allure and enravish the masculine senses. Gently, softly and slowly realized, an orgasm effected in this manner sent the recipient, with few exceptions, into the seventh heaven of rapture. A soft, even suction, alternated with the teasing caress of an active tongue playing over the head and around the, neck of the pulsing glans, supplemented with a slight up and down movement of the mouth soon had the object of these felicities groaning with erotic ecstasy.
If the subject was slow to reach orgasm, a more intense excitation could be induced by the use of the hand in addition. No normal man in a healthy sexual condition could long resist the luscious combination of gentle fingers and warm, wet, sucking lips.
As the untouched chords of a harp vibrate in harmony with those which are giving forth their tremulous melody, so did my own organism yield up its store of passion, an echo to the very paroxysm I provoked in another.
To Monty's manifest satisfaction the unique method of awakening him in the morning which I have previously related became a definite part of our erotic program. I looked forward to it with a pleasant glow of anticipation, and the thought, implanted in my mind, caused me to wake earlier than I would otherwise have done.
He was a man of unusual virile potency whose sexual vigor reestablished itself quickly, even after the most enervating exhaustion, and he always had an erection when I woke up. Slyly, cautiously, inspired with a prurient fancy to see how far I could get with it before he woke up, I bent my head over the succulent fruit. But in a few minutes my cautious, discreet restraint gave way to more energetic movements as my own passions took the ascendancy. And as soon-as this happened, instead of a sleeping subject, I had one who was very much awake indeed.
Week by week I looked forward to Monty's visits with increasing impatience. My other patrons I simply tolerated. The lack of interest in them, which I could not entirely conceal, became apparent and before long I lost Mr. Thomas. Madame Lafronde commented on my petulant humor, and I told her I was tired of being merely an ornament and wanted as many men as I could get, like the other girls. Some of these, the more attractive, often had three or four different men in a single night. She was reluctant to change the existing order and evaded my request by telling me she would think it over.
I knew she felt that I was more valuable as an “inspirational' attraction, and that she feared the complications and ill-humor which would inevitably arise when my younger and fresher charms were used to lure the fish from less attractive bait. Maybe, too, she was aware of or suspected my recently developed cock-sucking proclivities, for little escaped her shrewd old eyes and if so, no one better than she knew what this would do to the peace and tranquility of the house once the girls whose clientele I usurped discovered my technique.
In fairness to my sisters in vice, I will say that to most of them fellatio is abhorrent and practiced only under duress or the pressure of necessity when fading physical attractions render them unfit to compete on an even basis with younger rivals. Sacrifices must be made to compensate, for advancing years and shrunken breasts.
Girls who are alert, good-looking, and possessed of attractive bodies do not need to practice fellatio to hold a clientele. But men are quick to take advantage of any weakness and if the caress be obtained once, either by duress or persuasion or voluntary indulgence, it is extremely difficult to evade further demands.
Monty's confidence to me regarding his conjugal unhappiness and differences became more and more candid. Wrapped up in the lewd fascination which the man held for me I gave no thought to the fact that only a bounder and a cad would have made his wife the subject of such intimate confidence to a whore, regardless of what personal differences may have existed between them.
He had explained the origin and significance of some long scratches down the side of his face, administered by his wife's agile fingers when he had tried to force her. And subsequently, there was a big, blue lump on one of his shins, the result of a well-placed kick received while trying to impose unwanted attention on her.
“Wait till she's undressed next time,” I commented viciously, “or did you have her like me, with just her shoes and stockings on?”
He laughed cynically.
“I'd have to chloroform her first to see her naked!”
Apparently, some disagreement of two or three, years' standing had arisen between them and she had consistently and determinedly repulsed all amorous advances since then. Picturing her in my mind as I did, an embittered, shrewish woman, I could not for the, life of me understand how he was able to feel any desire toward her. But men are contrary brutes, and to make them want something desperately you have only to prohibit it. She didn't want him to fuck her, and, presto, the wish to do so was never out of his mind.
These confidences affected me in a peculiar way. I wasn't in love with Monty in the true sense of the word, but when he told me such things I felt twinges of jealousy. It annoyed me that he should perversely want to do it with her. So distorted can one's perspective become that his inordinate desire, to fuck the unfortunate woman inspired me with a feeling of personal animosity against her.
At first he had seemed to accept the situation with good-natured indifference, but lately I had perceived an undercurrent of bitterness and vindictiveness.
“Have you ever read De Maupassant?” he asked one night, after having told me of some domestic disagreement.
“No,” I answered, “I've heard of him, but I have never read his stories. Why?”
“Well, among them is one with an idea I'd like to apply to her, with certain variations.”
“Tell me about it.”
“The story is a long one to repeat, but the essence of it is this: A young French noblewoman discovers that
