the discharge gushed up her cunt; while at the same time a most ridiculous expression came to her face, and she turned up her eyes till nothing but the whites could be seen. Then, after a final wriggle, they lay in each other’s arms, breathing quickly from their exertions.
He had given her a most lusty poke!
It had been a most lascivious and exciting spectacle, and my cock was aching from its prolonged erection. I rose from my chair and looked at Frances, who had also risen from her seat, and who appeared to be deeply stirred by the scene she had witnessed.
Her face was scarlet, her bosom was heaving, and her great blue eyes, sparkling with desire, seemed to be starting out of her head.
Without saying a word, she put her hands under her clothes, unfastened her drawers, and kicked them off her legs; then going to a couch she laid herself down upon it, and smiled at me invitingly.
Burning with lust, I ran to her, whisked up her petticoats, and got between her outstretched legs; then taking her in my arms, I poked her vigorously, and with one intense feeling of delight. Frances also seemed to feel a very great sensation of pleasure, for she bucked up, and wriggled, even more voluptuously than she usually did.
As soon as we had made ourselves tidy, I rang the bell for Madame Leblanc and settled with her. Then Frances and I left the house, drove to a restaurant, and had a nice little supper; finally reaching our hotel at about one o’clock in the morning. But, late as it was, we sat down to have a talk over the evening’s amusement. After a few general observations on the whole affair; Frances remarked: “There were two things which surprised me very much.”
“What were they?” I asked.
“Why, the woman took the man’s ‘thing’ in her mouth, and appeared to be sucking it; and afterwards the man put his tongue up the woman’s ‘thing.’ We have never kissed each other in that way.”
“No. But we will some time or other; if you think you would like it,” I replied, laughing.
“I am sure I should like it for a change,” she said. “Oh, it must be delicious to be tickled by a soft, warm tongue,” she added, looking at me with glistening eyes, and speaking in a fervent way.
“You would think it delicious for a moment or two, but you would not find it so satisfying as the real thing,” I remarked.
She laughed, saying: “Well anyhow, I’ll try it some day.” Then she went on: “Did you observe what a queer look the woman put on, and how she turned up her eyes at the ‘supreme moment,’ and did you notice how violently she wriggled her bottom? She did look so funny in every way.”
I replied that I had noticed everything. She continued: “I know that I wriggle my bottom a little when you ‘do it’ to me, — I can’t help it, though it seems absurd-but I don’t think I turn up my eyes and look as silly as that woman did.”
“Oh yes, you do,” I said laughing. “All women turn up their eyes and look queer when the spasm seizes them; and they all wriggle their bottoms more or less violently when they feel the ‘stuff’ spurting up them.”
“Well,” she said, “it was exciting to watch the two ‘doing it’; but I must say it was a ridiculous sight to see the two bare bottoms working up and down.”
“Yes, Frances,” I observed, smiling. “I quite agree with you. The action looks most ridiculous, but the sensation is delightful, as you well know.”
“Yes, it is nice,” she said, laughing.
“Well, let us go to bed and practise the movement,” I said, getting up from my chair, and passing through the folding doors into our bedroom. She followed, and in a short rime our bottoms were working up and down, and her eyes were turning up as she wriggled and squirmed in the delicious spasm.
A fortnight passed, and though we did not pay any more visits to Madame Leblanc’s establishment, we amused ourselves very pleasantly in many other ways. It was the middle of April; there was a balmy, spring-like feeling in the air; the trees in the Bois de Boulogne were putting forth their leaves, and the snowdrops and crocuses were in full bloom; so one particularly bright morning we made up our minds to spend the day at Versailles.
As soon as we had breakfasted, Frances arrayed herself in a most dainty toilette; then we left the hotel and walked to the Palais Royal, intending to have a look at the shops before starting on our excursion. But after we had strolled about for a short time, Frances discovered that she had left all her keys and her purse, containing upwards of five pounds, behind her in our bedroom.
So we at once walked back to the hotel, and went up to our apartments to get the forgotten ankles. On opening the door of the bedroom, we saw the chambermaid who always attended us, a girl named Annette, kneeling beside one of Frances’ trunks, from which nearly all the contents had been taken, and scattered on the floor. Annette had thought we had gone away for the day as I had told her that we should not be back to dinner.
When she saw us suddenly enter the room, she jumped up, turned very pale, and stood looking at us, utterly taken aback, and trembling all over. She was a tall, slim, good-looking girl about twenty-one years old; with a trim figure, black hair and eyes, red lips, and white teeth, and a saucy little nez retrousse. She had a clear olive complexion; and she was dressed in a well-fitting black frock, with white apron, collar and cuffs; and her luxuriant hair was covered with a white, frilled cap with scarlet ribbons, Frances at once went to the toilet table, on which she had left her purse; but it was gone, and when she informed me of the fact, I locked the door and put the key in my pocket.
Then I went to the trembling girl and searched her capacious pocket, finding in it the purse, half-a-dozen lace handkerchiefs, the same number of pairs of gloves, and also a number of small articles which she had taken out of the trunk. And had we not happened to return unexpectedly, and thus catch the thief red-handed, we should never have known who had stolen the things.
Frances could not speak French, so I acted as spokesman; saying to the girl in her own language; which I will here translate into English: “We have caught you nicely, Annette.
You are a thief. What have you got to say for yourself before I send for the manager of the hotel and ask him to hand you over to the police?” I had no intention of giving her in charge; as the whole thing would have been a great bore; but I wanted to give the girl a fright.
She burst into a flood of tears, wringing her hands, and exclaiming in accents of entreaty: “Oh, sir! Oh, sir! Don’t give me to the police. I am an honest girl, but I was suddenly tempted to do wrong when I saw the purse and the keys on the table. Oh, do not have me arrested! Forgive me! Oh! please forgive me, I have an old mother co support Oh! do forgive me!”
She was in an awful funk, and it suddenly struck me that I might get some fun out of the affair. I thought it very probable, that rather than go to gaol, she would let me flog her. At any rate I would give her the choice of the alternatives; and I hoped she would choose the flogging. She was a clean-looking, pretty girl, and my cock stirred at the thought of turning her up, and reddening her bottom.
So, I said to her: “You are a thief, and therefore you must be punished; but I will not hand you over to the police, if you will consent to receive a flogging, in the same way that we flog naughty girls in England.” She stopped crying and looked at me for a moment, with her big black eyes widely opened, as if she hardly grasped the meaning of my words; then she said in a tone of relief: “Oh, sir, rather than go to prison and lose my good character, I will consent to receive any punishment you like to inflict upon me.”
“Very well,” I said. “But you must clearly understand that I will flog you soundly.”
She shuddered slightly, and asked in a shaky voice: “But, sir, in what way do you intend to flog me?”
“I intend to flog you upon your bare bottom,” I replied.
She blushed scarlet, and again began to cry, saying in a horrified tone: “Oh, but sir; when I said I would cake the punishment, I did not think you intended to inflict it on my bare person. I thought you were going to flog me over my clothes. You must not strip me. I cannot bear the exposure. It would be too shameful. Oh! I cannot suffer it.”
“Well, if you will not submit yourself to me entirely, I must send for the police,” I said, walking to the bell- rope and taking it in my hand.
“Oh, don’t ring the bell! Wait a moment. Oh! what shall I do! Oh, don’t send for the police!” she wailed in a piteous tone, stretching out her arms with an imploring gesture towards me, while the tears ran down her flushed cheeks.
“I will ring the bell if you don’t consent to take the flogging on your bare bottom,” I said sternly.
She wrung her hands, and wept bitterly; then after a few moments’ hesitation, she sobbed out in broken
