“Have you been poked yet?” I naturally denied it, but she insisted: “I don't believe you. Don't lie. How often have you done it?” But I insisted: “Never! I have only seen it done at home.” Mrs. Rhinelander and I then went upstairs, while Mr. Horak remained in the cellar. She seemed now like a partner, and I was very proud of this community of interest with a grown-up woman. This was something different from Anna and Mizzie and the rest. I thought of Ferdl having poked her up in the garret; since he had often poked me too, it seemed as if there were a bond between us. As we got upstairs, I confessed that I had not told her the truth before. This I owned up to the fact that I had been poked before. She wanted to know all about it: how often, with whom, etc. I replied: “Possibly ten times or more.” Then I played my trump card and said: “With several boys-one of them Ferdl, the big boy, Anna's brother; you know him!” She denied it, but I kept on saying: “You surely remember him, he helped you carry the wash to the attic.” She said: “Oh yes, I remember him now.” Leaning close to her, I whispered: “You know, he told me all about it!”
She cut me short saying: “Shut your mouth!” That settled that. A few days later I saw Mr. Horak going into the cellar. I called “hello” to him. Spying me, and making sure that no one was in sight, he called to me: “Come along to the cellar.” I was all too glad to go.
As we reached the dark passageway, he turned and, catching my head, pressed my face to the front of his trousers. I immediately put my hand into his pants and took out his shaft, which I held in both hands, rubbing it gently. He remarked: “How nicely you do that.”
After such praise, I tried to please him. I reached into his pants and began to play with his eggs, while with the other hand I continually rubbed his foreskin back and forth. “Take it in your mouth!” he begged. I refused. I don't know why, but I wanted to do it somewhere else. “I will give you another gulden if you will take it in your mouth,” he said. But I still declined, saying to him: “Do it to me like you did to Mrs. Rhinelander!” In great astonishment, he said: “You want me to poke you?” I nodded.
He then said: “But, child, you are too small!” I kept on playing with his shaft, rubbing my mound against it and trying to put it inside me, all the while saying: “I am not too small. I can poke!”
“But you haven't any hair on you!” “That makes no difference. I want to get poked!” “Have you ever done it?” I nodded. He said: “How often?” I said: “Several times.”
He lifted me up and held me astride his hips, the same as one would carry a child, supporting me with one hand while I put my arms around his neck. With his other hand, he lifted my clothes and opened my slit with his fingers. Then he started the ascent. I could feel the head of his immense organ going into me. I jumped up and down, trying to help him invade me. However, I was too small to receive him. After trying for some time, he put me down, saying: “No! It won't go like this!” I noticed how red his shaft had become from rubbing against my body. He sat down on a small keg and rolled a smaller one in front of him. Then he turned to me and drew me to him, with my back touching him, as I stood on the small keg. This pleased me greatly, for I thought that he was going to invade me from behind as Robert had done in bed. But, instead, he ordered me to bend forward. I did so, bracing my elbows on another keg, my little bottom raised high in the air. I turned my head and saw him wetting his shaft with saliva. He said that this would make it go in easier. Then, raising my dress, he got up, leaned over me and started boring into the cleft between my buttocks. I was very much frightened at this turn of affairs. I wanted to scream, but he quieted me, saying: “If it hurts, tell me.” He then pushed further. What's more in addition to thrusting his tool into my bottom, he pushed his finger into my grotto. “Does it hurt?” he asked. Although it did hurt a little, the wonderful sensation which tickled both orifices was so delightful that I answered: “No!” He then bored a little deeper and again asked if it hurt me. I replied in the negative. He now pushed further, until I feared that the mammoth machine must be all the way into me. (He told me, later, that he had been able to get only about half of it in.) At first I was disgusted to think of receiving a poke in this manner, but, as he worked on, I became calmer. The fear of being hurt disappeared and the tingling sensation felt so good that I began to moan with pleasure. He then withdrew, anxiously asking whether he had hurt me. This was an unpleasant interruption to a wonderful sensation, and I stretched up too, saying: “No, no! It doesn't hurt…! Please leave it in and keep on.”
He now put it in again and I whispered: “just keep it there-there-oh! That feels so good!” He was very gentle about it, and kept playing with my grotto all the time. Finally he was in to the hilt. I could not help thinking of the ragged boy who poked me in the bushes and who was the one to get my maidenhead; of the soldier who tried so hard but could not succeed; of Robert, who had got part way in, and of Mr. Eckhard, who had gone a bit further. The thoughts made me so excited that I was almost beside myself. To feel my lover's lance better, I several times pinched my cheeks together tightly, greatly affecting Mr. Horak. He leaned forward, clutching me to him, working violently and whispering: “You darling! That's right-pinch some more-you sweet little whore-you must let me poke you thoroughly every day!-I'll meet you right here tomorrow and every day!”
“Every day?” I asked. “Yes, every damned day, you darling little whore! Every day I want to poke you!” This conversation wrought me up to a still greater pitch of excitement. “You want to poke me every day? But that will be impossible! Don't you think so?”
“Why will it?” he demanded, pushing still harder. “But what if Mrs. Rhinelander comes?” “Nonsense!” he whispered, “I like you a great deal better.” “I don't believe it!” “But, I tell you, it's true.” He now was inside me so far that I could feel his eggs bumping against my thighs. “But,” I reminded him, “Mrs. Rhinelander has big titties.” “I don't care. You will soon have big ones too!” “No, not for a long time yet.” Then he comforted me by telling me: “Just do lots of poking and they will grow fast, never fear.” I was so pleased at this that I squeezed my buttocks several times. He stopped talking and breathed very hard. Then, suddenly, he said: “Now! Now! Oh, my goodness! I felt something warm inside of me and knew that he was 'going off. His spear jerked furiously and his hot finger probed deep within my canal. I felt one hot wave after another go through me, as though I were being licked all over by a red hot tongue! I was breathing hard and moaning! When I got up, the hot juice was running down my legs like a waterfall.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Since I did not see Mr. Horak for several days after this meeting and since my attraction to him had crowded Mr. Eckhard completely out of my mind, I satisfied my longings in the old way with Franz. Also I continually watched my parents at night to see if I could once more catch them in the act. One night I saw father poking mother from behind. Another time mother was on top of him. One night, having been awakened by the noise of their bed, I heard them talking. Mother and father were both naked and father was “giving her the birdie.” Her legs up on his shoulders, he poked her with all his might and main. Finally he whispered: “I am 'coming'
…!” But mother said: “No, no, wait-hold back-wait for me!”
But father went off, and, letting go mother's legs, he sank down on the bed exhausted. This displeased mother greatly. She said: Is that nice of you? I didn't even 'go off'!” After a few minutes, mother asked: “Can't you do it once more?” Father murmured: “Perhaps, after a little while.” Now mother was very angry. She said: “Oh, later on you will be snoring and it will be impossible for me to wake you!” “But I can't do it now!”
“Well, then, why didn't you hold back? I want some, too!”
After a few minutes, she asked again: “Can't you make him stand now?” “Not now. Wait!” Then my mother said: “I will make him stand!” She sat up in bed, and taking father's lance in her hand, began playing with it. Father played with her titties, but for about a quarter of an hour nothing happened. Finally he said: “You see? It's no use!” Mother, almost in tears by this time, said: “What can we do?” “Nothing,” said father. “Let up. He won't stand anymore!” Mother, almost weeping, kept on playing with him. Finally she said: “My hand is tired! I must try something else.”
She now stooped down and began to suck and lick him, all the while crying bitterly. I could hear her plainly. At last she stopped crying and said: “Well, he just won't come. Oh, Lord! What can a woman do with a man like you? You push it in once or twice and then 'get off,' never thinking that a woman wants some too.” Father said nothing, but mother kept on: “What shall I do? With your teasing, my playing with it and taking it in my mouth, you almost drive me wild! What would you say if I pushed you away just as you were about to 'go off? I suppose that you would go out somewhere else and get it? Oh, you men can help yourselves; you would simply go and get a whore, but I-what would happen if I was poked by another man?” “Oh, do what you like about it!” “So-? I will remember that! Don't think for a minute that I can't get another man if I want!” At that, father sat up, threw mother over, reached for her slit, put his fingers into it and began playing with her titties with his other hand. Pretty
