down and go to sleep.
The sucking part was rather incomprehensible to Rene and me. We were still rank novices in the arts of love and had much to learn. It was a cause of preoccupation to us that we hadn't been able to approximate anything like the success Leonard and the maidservant had achieved. Rene's dickey simply couldn't find its way in. We knew in theory that it should, and we had both peered and looked and fingered in an effort to find a hole big enough. There didn't seem to be any, or if there was, it was closed up very tightly.
With the candidness of youth Rene confided the difficulty to Leonard and Leonard promptly offered to show him how to do it. I never objected to anything Rene proposed, and submitted myself obediently to the demonstration. Leonard knew no more about maidenheads than Rene but he had the confidence which comes with experience and when I took off my panties and lay down on the mattress he placed himself between my knees and got his dickey which, despite his slighter stature, was fully as big as Rene's, against my cunny. He gave a lunge, and a shriek escaped my lips which, had there been anyone else in the house at the time, would have brought an investigation. His dickey had gone in all right, but the sensation I experienced was far from being conducive to further experimentation. After the first shriek of pain I began to cry, the tears rolled down my cheeks and I struggled to release myself.
Panic-stricken at the unexpected results, Leonard jerked away from me and his dickey came out stained with a reddish fluid and a few drops trickled down the inside of my thighs. Leonard was so frightened that he fled from the scene, leaving Rene and me alone.
The pain was only momentary and as it died away I stopped crying, but gazed with fright at the spots of blood which stained the white flesh between my thighs. Rene dabbed at them nervously with his handkerchief, and when no more appeared some of our assurance returned, but I was aggrieved because of the stab of pain I had suffered. When I stood up a feeling of soreness in my sexual parts was very pronounced. Fortunately, Mamma Agnes made no embarrassing inquiries when she found me in bed at an hour much earlier than my accustomed one, and by the following day the soreness had mostly passed away.
Thus I lost my maidenhead with pleasure neither to myself nor to my violator.
Having my hymen punched out in so disagreeable a manner without knowing exactly what had happened except that it was something decidedly unpleasant resulted in a reluctance on my part to lend myself to further exploitations which lasted for some weeks and might have endured longer had not my emotions been stimulated anew by a curious incident.
While rummaging through a pile of trash, old newspapers and discarded magazines which had been swept out of a long-vacant house nearby, Rene found a little green-covered book which, on being opened, disclosed to his startled eyes a picture which confirmed the basic theory of love. It was a rather neatly executed sketch showing a beautiful young lady reclining upon a grassy mound under a tree. Her dresses were drawn up, she had no panties on, and above the edge of her disordered and half-open bodice peeped a pair of bubbies of most astonishing proportions.
Between her thighs, half-lying, half-kneeling, with one of her silk clad legs thrown over his hips, was a young boy. From his middle projected a dickey which penetrated and was lost to sight for half its length in her cunny, the protruding lips of which were plainly indicated just below a profusion of curly black hair.
As soon as he recovered from the shock this picture caused him, Rene streaked for home and excitedly signaled for me to follow him to the attic. Breathlessly we gazed at the picture, then turned our attention to the text which accompanied it. As we devoured the printed pages I became aware of that moist, swollen, itchy feeling in my cunny. The desire to experience anew the delicious sensations which Mr. Peters' finger on several occasions, and the tip of Rene's dickey on others had afforded me began to surge through me and grow more and more insistent as we slowly digested the revelations contained in the booklet and which were phrased quite within our powers of comprehension.
The title which graced the story was: “The Passionate Governess, or Hubert's First Fuck.” Before that book finally left our possession we had read it so many times either of us could have recited it word for word by memory.
It was about a beautiful young governess in a wealthy home who entered into amorous adventures with one of her charges, Hubert, a boy of fifteen. After a number of tantalizing episodes, in one of which she catches Hubert peeking through the keyhole and masturbating himself while she is bathing, she decided to gratify his curiosity and save him from the vice of masturbation by letting him have sexual intercourse with her.
The scene chosen for the sweet lesson in love is a beautiful sylvan glade reached by crossing a lake in a rowboat. As the pretty governess sits in the prow of the boat with Hubert at the oars facing her, she carelessly permits her skirts to become so elevated above her knees that Hubert is afforded a delightful opportunity to peek between her legs and get teasing glimpses of the charms only half concealed under the frilly lace of her panties. Under the stimulation of this enticing sight he is in a suitable condition for his initiation in the rites of love.
After exciting preliminaries in which passionate kisses, caresses and fondling of each other's sexual parts are indulged in, and during which Hubert's curiosity regarding the more intimate aspects of feminine anatomy is completely satisfied, the real initiation takes place as shown in the illustration, and Hubert learns that the delights attendant to plunging his dickey into the mossy glen between a pretty girl's legs are far superior to those he had formerly experienced in masturbation.
It was a story with a moral, as you will have observed, intended to discourage young people from practicing self-abuse.
When we had finished the last page I felt moist and sticky and it seemed to me that my panties were wet. Rene's trousers were jutted out in front in a way which showed what effect the story had had on him.
He looked at me, and I looked at him.
“Shall we?” he whispered.
“Yes!” I answered, all recollection of the pain I had suffered the last time this attic had been used for purposes of fornication completely obliterated.
While Rene was unfastening his trousers I kicked off my panties and lay down on the soft mattress. My emotions had been greatly excited by the vivid little story and the first touches of Rene's dickey against the moist flesh of my cunny were indescribably sweet. For a few moments I lay there languidly thrilling to the soft friction and pressure as the tip of his dickey roved about over the sensitive area like a person groping for a door in the dark. But suddenly I stiffened in alarm for I distinctly felt the constriction which accompanied an actual penetration and which brought back to my consciousness what had happened before.
With muscles tensed in readiness to free myself with the first indication of pain I held my breath and waited. But there was no pain. To the contrary, the sensations I felt as Rene's dickey slipped further into the tight little hole were more agreeable than anything I had yet experienced.
I moaned, not with pain this time, but with delight, and the next moment, actuated by those natural instincts which need no previous experience nor teacher to guide, we were both frantically heaving our bottoms up and down in an effort to taste without delay the supreme delight of which the intoxicating thrills now tantalizing us were but the forerunners.
It comes but once in a lifetime, that indescribable, celestial glow which suffuses the souls and blends the bodies of lovers in unforgettable rapture, the first perfect sexual union of two beings who feel toward each other the tender passion of youth unmarred as yet by maturity's grosser complexities, and I affirm that those who have not tasted the fruit of love under these conditions have missed what is probably life's sweetest experience.
Rene and I had finally succeeded in unlocking the door which had hitherto obstructed our progress and with the unlocking the latent germs of sensuousness, undoubtedly implanted in my very soul, sprang rapidly to full bloom. My ardor exceeded his, and it was I who now suggested and even begged frequent visits to the dusty attic where, with my panties off and my dress up or entirely removed, I writhed and suspired ecstatically in response to his vigorous thrusts. And; after a delicious orgasm had rewarded our efforts, I sighed inwardly with regret at the inevitable transformation his little cock underwent, dropping slowly but surely downward, its virile rigidity degenerating into a flaccid inertia which incapacitated it from further immediate use.
CHAPTER TWO
