real young lady was such a treat to the sensual fellow that he was beside himself with passion. I told him I adored his tool. He needed no incentive, but drove up and down my little belly in an ecstasy.
I delighted to watch him; to feel the big, strong tool throbbing inside my parts. My spasms came again and again while he was having me-wave after wave.
'Oh, miss! I shall have to come directly! I'm coming now-there- there-oh!'
John gave me a convulsive clutch; he pushed in his limb to the balls. I buried my face in the pillow to prevent my sighs from being audible as he discharged. He inundated me with a torrent of hot sperm. I threw open my legs to receive it, wishing I could taste it as well. It entered my womb in gushes. He withdrew with reluctance; he dragged out his big limb, red and smoking. I wiped it for him, kissed it, tasted my own juices on it. Then I rushed to my toilet and neglected no precaution.
We sat together on the little sofa. John was never tired of feeling my legs, my buttocks, and my slit. His fingers roved everywhere and his limb very soon showed evidence of his returning virility. I stooped down, played with it and sucked it, taking it deep within my mouth, feeling it swell against my lips, and it very soon stood again fiercely erect. We neither of us spoke, but I motioned him towards the bed. I laid myself upon it and put a pillow under my buttocks. John laid himself upon my naked body. I guided his huge thing into me and took it in up to his delicious balls. He lay a long time in me, doing it slowly. Then he decided it was time to attempt something different. Withdrawing his limb from my belly, the boy lay down beside me and drew me to him and made as if to work himself under me. Instinctively, lasciviously, I understood what he would have me do. Straddling his body with knees bent and splayed, I positioned his bulbous nut directly beneath me and then impaled myself upon it, squatting low until I had it all within me, then riding it, up and down as though upon a horse. He began to buck against my weight, but to little avail. I controlled all movement. Soon he had spent in a gush of seed that sent me into the seventh heaven.
I handed the man his clothes; he dressed silently and rapidly. I watched a moment at the open door. Only the ticking of the hall clock. I waited till it struck three, and then, while the vibrations were still in the air, I closed my door upon him. I enjoyed a sweet unbroken sleep till past nine o'clock.
Chapter 7
I have already told you I am beautiful. I am dearly fond of the beautiful in art. What can be the difference then between the beautiful in the glass and the beauty in the picture? Rely upon it, every woman is certain to know the exact measure of her good looks-if she possesses any. She is sure to be reminded of her defects. Her inner consciousness will, whatever may be her natural vanity, infallibly lead her to a correct appreciation of her charms. She may think she can impose on others by her beauty. It is only by the flattery, or the honest opinions she obtains, that her vanity is touched, that comparisons are made. When she goes home and in privacy she sees, she knows the naked truth for better, or, for worse.
When a man tells me he thinks me the most beautiful girl in the world, I know he is talking nonsense. When he simply and obviously admires me for my comeliness, I may believe him. If he goes further, if he ventures to speak of love to me, I know I have excited his desires. I can see it in his eyes. It is evident in the parted lips, the ardent, furtive, searching glances with which I feel he is striving to pierce the thin veils in which modesty-save the mark-robes the nude form of woman. He is gloating secretly on all his fancy pictures hidden beneath. He is forming his ideas on the subject of my nudity- of the extent of my fabricated personality. Poor man, if he could only look in reality below, he would find there was nothing there but Nature unadorned. In fancy, he gives his ideal full swing. He sees me as his lust would have me. He sees the perfect bust-the panting bosom which no fashionable corset could improve-the waist and ample haunch-the buttocks which no dressmaker ever pads with wretched cotton wool. The man, after all, is only a society satyr. His lust, subject as it must be to the decencies of ordinary life, lifts him, for the nonce, from the commonplace, knockabout men of average intelligence, into a being which interests me. In fancy he beholds me stripped-at his mercy-small mercy I should receive at his hands! He rages in private. He snorts like a stallion over a young mare. I have no contempt for this poor creature. Shall I confess the truth?
I feel intensely for him. That confession does not prevent me from displaying to him such attractions as my beauty-my knowledge of mankind-enable me to excite him with. His agony of lust is to me a selfish gratification. It is joy to me to watch his hardly concealed emotion. I know him. I treat him simply as he would me. I am, in his shortsighted view, too innocent and too young-altogether too inexperienced-to understand anything connected with the realities of sensual instincts. He does not scruple to let loose, for my benefit, his lust of the flesh. It has extended to my flesh. He figures to himself, in his licentiousness, all the delights he would enjoy in my possession. In his bestial concupiscence he revels in the ideal enjoyment of my innocent young charms.
Could the man who struts in society only know how his glances at Eveline are noted and enjoyed, he might indeed be more bold, but he would nonetheless meet with the failure he merits. She is not the girl, young and innocent as he deems her, to play the puppet while he pulls the strings, and boasts loud-tongued at his club of his society successes!
A fine morning. Actual sunlight, and in London! I spring out of bed. Just eight o'clock. My cold tub is there ready. How refreshing it is! How I glow all fresh and red as I stand and rub myself down! The act reminds me of Jim-of grooming a horse. I should like Jim to groom me. Well, should I really? Yes, that I should, when I remember the sight which for a moment met my gaze through the stable window. I commenced my morning toilet. I gradually nurtured at the same time an idea which became more and more fixed in my mind. My passions, I fear, are not always made subservient to my higher perceptions. It is my nature to give them a flight sometimes. To indulge them against- sometimes-my cooler judgment. How can I, with my temperament, stop to think of risks-of results? So my fancy ran free now. In fancy I was again at the stable window. That did not prevent me from completing my morning toilet. I descended to breakfast in the dining room. Papa was there already, his newspaper and his letters before him.
'Good morning, Eveline; here is a letter which will interest you.'
A large envelope enclosing a card. The arms of the late Duke of M. The invitation, at last, to the costume ball.
'It will be magnificent, my darling. You must make a sensation. All the guests are to represent some particular personality. How will you go? You would look adorable as Anne Boleyn.'
'And my papa would look defiantly inscrutable as Charlemagne. Oh Papa, it is fixed. You must go as Charlemagne!'
'And you, Eveline?'
'I shall represent my great-grandmother-your grandmother, Papa. I have already considered all. We have her jewels. We even have in the great wardrobe the dresses she wore at my age. You told me yourself how like I was to her in the picture in your study. I can imitate the pose-the look-everything. It is fixed, Papa-you will not deny your own little girl?'
He never denied me anything. He would go to the Duchess's ball as Charlemagne, if practicable. I, as my own great-grandmother!
'Do not forget we dine tonight at Lady Lessleton's. There will be some nice people there who are always worth meeting. She is very erratic in her assemblage of guests at these little dinners. You have been asked to meet someone in particular, you may depend on it; such very young ladies are not always selected for these affairs.'
'I will not forget. I shall try to look as bright as possible to please my dear papa first, and the somebody in particular next.'
'Naughty girl! Kiss me!'
The dinner passed pleasantly enough. Lady Lessleton laid herself out to be very nice to me. Papa was right. I was coupled with a delightful old gentleman-the magistrate at Bow Street. Sir Langham Beamer was a bachelor, a gentleman, and a man of taste. I like old people. I took particular pains to be agreeable to him. He was a very smart, gay old gentleman of the old school. He loved the society of the young. He was evidently delighted to find that his hostess had not forgotten his foible. I heard him express his gratification in no measured language to her after dinner. I found him full of anecdotes and information, with a distinct and eradicable tendency in his conversation to revert to his own profession. I thought him charming. He made me promise to come round with papa and see him administer his functions in his Police Court.
