bottom forward to the edge. Quickly, my boy, or I'll call Sylvia. I swear she wants to see it big'.
'Don't, please!', I groaned. Her will was done. I squatted awkwardly, displayed, both drawers and trousers wreathed below my knees, my penis like a flagpole sticking up.
'I will give it what it wants. Shall I?', she cooed. She tucked her dress up more and bared her hips, her garters silvery and pink, her stockings a dark blue against her skin. Ah, parting of her cuntlips that I saw! I am to write that down, and have. 'Mere words-what are mere words?', she asks, They are as fluff upon the wind. The doing of it is the thing'.
Oh treacherous her seeming-tender smile! She moved upon me, standing, her legs wide, the insides of her thighs outside my own, her hands clasped on my shoulders. Her bare bum hovered an inch above my standing prick. She reached behind her, reached for down, steadied my cock beneath her waiting quim. Her face grew florid, cheeks were puffed. Fool that I was, I should have known.
'I want to piss. Sit still!', she gritted then, the full weight of her arms upon my shoulders pressed. Her nose touched mine, lips sultry, half apart.-'Now-touch your tongue to mine', she breathed.
'Mistress!', I groaned. The word came out.
'Yes, Phillip, you're a good boy now'.
I groaned, I gritted, tip of tongue to tip, my face not daring to lean forward more. Peach of her slit that barely touched my quivering knob. She would not press it down, would not, but stayed thus, ever taunting me, faint tingling of saliva to my own.
'Ask me to wet your prick-come on!', she breathed.
I panted-felt my veins a-throb, then shamefully the words fell from my lips, causing my tongue to quiver more to hers, hearing her husky laughter. Then the stream! O golden gushing out upon my prick! The harshness of her pissing stung my tool, especially about the crest. My loins were drenched. I dared not even jerk. On, on it came, her belly puffed. I heard it trickle to the floor. It ran down in my trouser legs.
'Phillip, your tongue more! Ah! It's going in!'
It was. I felt the trembling of her knees, the clawing of her fingers through my shirt. Her cunny opened like a rose, absorbed my stinging knob, then sheathed it in until her bum was full upon my thighs. Dear god, I jerked, I jetted straightaway, full up in her the wondrous lava spat. She moaned, to my delight, and pressed down more. Her face moved and she bit upon my ear. I squealed like a stuck pig and came the more, all quivering, all throbbing all the time. She moaned. At least she moaned. Was it desire? The last fell shoots of sperm, and I was done. She sighed a huge sigh, kept her saddle long, jerked up and down as though demanding more, and then unsheathed herself and stood, brushed back her hair, I dripping wet.
'Wash! Change your clothes!', she spat at me, and thrust her dress down as she spoke, then turned towards the door.
'Oh, Jane!', I groaned. Despair was on me deep.
'Yes? What?', her voice snapped out.
'Nothing', I mumbled.
'Good', she said, and then was gone, and I left in my wan douleur — sickness of satisfaction and frustration, too. Yes-I confess that which I would not speak, and she may read here all she seeks to read.
'He would fuck us if we let him', Muriel said last night when they both stood over me.
'I know. He's dirty. Come to bed', said Jane.
Thus do they make my life despair. I had to lick their shoes the while they spoke. My once-beloved will never write, I know. I am left alone in sin and misery.
Sylvia's Day-Book
I spoke to Daisy, and she knows! I mean, she knows about men's things. I told her that I did as well. They put it in you if they can', she said. I went all red and said 'I know'. We both said 'cock' and 'prick'-tried not to laugh, then Aunty Muriel came in and BOTH of us went red. I KNEW she was going to ask us what we spoke about, and did. We would not tell her, though. At first she didn't seem to mind and said that girls should talk about all things- and things that HAPPENED to them just as much, she said.
'Have you been good?', she asked Daisy next, and Daisy said she had, but still blushed. I had a sudden feeling why she blushed. I'm sure she has not told me everything, but I did, and that isn't fair. I think Aunt Muriel thought so, too. She stared at her for a long time and said she wished to talk to her, and that I was to go into the garden with Aunty Jane.
Daisy looked very awed at that and twisted all her fingers round. Outside I then asked Aunty Jane what they would talk about. She would not say.-'Oh, Daisy is more advanced than you', she said.-'She isn't!', I replied. That made her laugh. It made me sulky, though.-'I told you that you will have it soon enough', she said, and then we heard a shriek from Daisy from upstairs! I wanted to run in. Aunt Jane said no.
'Why? Is she spanking her?', I asked. I could not understand at all.
'No, she is not. Look! Aren't the roses nice?'
I didn't care about the silly flowers. I wanted to know what was going on, but did not say so. Daisy didn't shriek again. The curtains of Papa's study were pulled to. Aunt Jane said I want not to look.
'Your Papa is working, dear', she said, sat down beside me and gave a funny smile. That's all that she would say except for ordinary things. A whole half hour we sat there- then Aunt Muriel called. Daisy had gone home, she said. Oh, I was really put out then. She hadn't even said goodbye, I said.
'She was too full to speak, I think', said Aunty Muriel-and laughed! When I see Daisy I will tell her off.
Phillip's Day-Book
Daisy! To what depths have they fallen now! I knew her by her footsteps, by her squeaks, and even by her body-scent which is different from Sylvia's. They did not think of that-that I would guess. I was blindfolded, strapped into my chair, was gagged and had my tool exposed.
I heard the scutterings of feet-heard my door open, heard her brought to me. A hand touched at my upright prong.-'Go on, go on, do as I told you to', said Muriel to her. O moist, warm rose of mouth upon my knob! O bliss the slow, sweet sucking up and down, the hissing of her breath from out her nose, the slippery sounds her young mouth made at its lewd task!
'He will come a lot-just let him come-suck on him when he does and drain his balls', I heard from Muriel.
The hissing sounds grew louder. Hot breath flowed with the saliva that my prick immersed itself within in that soft cave. Life flowed in me, pulsed out. I never knew such richness yet. My buttocks squirmed and tightened. Her lips slooped, made sucking noises, drew on me. Oh, frail am I that I should feel desire.
'Good girl! Now frig him with your fingers-quick!'
Dear heavens, how I came! Each surging jet of come leaped down her throat. I heard her gargle, choke, believe her head was pressed. More of my cock was drawn within. I felt the swimminess within her mouth, the glutinaceous flood from me that cloyed her tongue and onward flowed. She pumped my penis still with her slim hand, licking round my spilling knob as she was told, and left me empty as an unfilled sack, a weakness flowing through all my limbs.
Not until after she had gone was I released. I heard the carriage drive away. Then Muriel released me, did not speak except to scold me for what I have not written in my so-called book-a mess of papers that lie all about, all scribbled on and passages expunged. I am to begin again, she said, and has repeated it tonight. I am to 'lay the chapters out and make a framework of the plot'.
My head swirls and I cannot think of anything save that warm-sucking mouth. My penance is to brood on it, to think how lustfully I soiled her lips.
'Be careful that you get to work and write. The next young mouth may not be Daisy's', Jane said to me on reading this.
I try, I try. They will not stop at anything. I have no fear to write this; they will merely laugh and say that they agree with that.
Celia's Day-Book
I visited Mama today, and felt exactly like an actress who has somehow wandered into the wrong play and finds her lines are wrong, the scenery all changed. I am not what I was nor ever shall be again. I am drawn not only towards Muriel, but that which she holds out to me: the promises, the lure, of sins I otherwise would spurn. I know I would.
