A feeling of lascivious exhilaration was welling within me as I groomed myself for our first rendezvous. I had lately noticed that the craving for more frequently repeated orgasm was growing on me. It seemed that no matter how often I had it, the longing was never completely satisfied. Even the two or three patrons I had who were sexually potent now left me with the irritated feelings of a woman whose passions have been inflamed and then abandoned in a smouldering state.
The effeminate Wainwright, who still came regularly, caused me almost frantic torture with his licking, and sucking, and despite the preoccupation and the watchfulness I was obliged to observe to keep him from biting my legs, he left me in such a state that I nearly always masturbated as soon as he had gone.
It was a little after eleven-thirty. I had slipped out of the parlour, abandoning for the night my role of cigarette girl, and was making my toilette, preparatory to Mr. Austin's promised call.
'How nice it would be,' I thought, as I fluffed violet talc over my body,
'if this Austin would suck me French style and then fuck me about three times afterwards.' My nerves tingled at the luscious vision thus evoked and a warm feeling crept through my body. The little scarlet tips of my bubbies swelled up and in the upper part of my cunny I could feel something else getting hard, too.
A few moments after twelve there was a discreet knock at my door and the maid appeared, inquiring whether I was ready to receive Mr.
Austin. At this moment I was standing before the mirror considering the dress I had tentatively chosen for the occasion, having yielded to an impulse to use one of the short black silk frocks which Daddy Heeley had bought me. Just why it had occurred to me to put on this juvenile costume on the present occasion I could not say; some vague intuition probably, but as it turned out, a fortunate one as far as the effect on my new patron was concerned, though until the arrival of the maid I was still debating, undecided whether to wear it or change to something else more in keeping with the circumstances.
'All right, Maggie,' I answered, 'you may bring him up.'
I tied my short curls back in a cluster with a band of ribbon, sprayed them lightly with my favorite perfume, and was just adding a final touch of powder to my face when footsteps at the door announced the presence of my caller.
The door opened to admit him, closed again, and the steps of the maid receded down the hallway.
Mr. Austin paused in evident surprise as he took in the scene which confronted him, then his face lit up approvingly.
'Are you the same girl I was talking to downstairs last night?'
'You mean that bold little hussy who runs around with a cigarette tray, showing her legs to everyone?' I answered jocularly. 'No, I'm her twin sister. She's off tonight, and asked me to entertain you in her place.'
'Well!' I'm quite pleased with the substitution. You're much more attractive than your twin sister!'
'I'm glad you're not disappointed, Mr. Austin!'
'Not Mr. Austin; just Monty from now on, if you please!'
'Very well, Mr. Austin… I mean… Monty!' I agreed demurely.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries Mr. Austin proved again, as he had done previously, that he was a man who went promptly and without any unnecessary circumlocutions after whatever he wanted.
With just the same directness as that employed to overcome Madame Lafronde's reluctance, he proceeded to take immediate advantage, of the opportunity which was now his.
Abruptly he gathered me up in his arms and carried me to the bed.
Seating himself on the edge he bent over me and his hand began to rummage under my clothing. With just the proper simulation of embarrassment I offered to undress.
'Not yet,' he answered, 'you're too pretty a picture just as you are.' But a moment later his questing hand encountered panties which, if not exactly finger-proof, were at least something of an obstacle to easy exploration. He fumbled with them for a moment, then flipped my dress up and on his own initiative set about to unfasten and remove the panties.
I laughed nervously as he pulled them down over my legs. Already I was on fire. My sensibilities were reacting to the brutally frank sexual influence which the man exerted, and covertly I glanced toward his lap. The cloth down the inside of one of his trouser legs was distended over an elongated swelling. It looked enormous. As though drawn by some inner force I placed my hand upon it. It throbbed to my touch and I squeezed it through the clothing which concealed it.
Whether the thoughts that occupied my mind while I had been preparing for his visit were due to a premonition or mere coincidence I cannot say, but the wish I had expressed in thought was converted into a reality.
My dress was up, my cambric panties had been pulled down over my legs and cast aside.
Monty, on the side of the bed, leaning over my knees and supporting his weight on a hand which rested on the bed between my open legs had caught his first glimpse of my naked cunny. His eyes glistened and a faint flush crept over his cheeks. With one sudden movement his face was between my thighs and his mouth nuzzling my cunny. A warm, soft tongue penetrated it, tapping, touching, caressing, and then moved upward. The hot glow of the caress thrilled my senses and I relaxed in languorous abandon to the delicious ravishment.
His lips clenched my clitoris; it pulsed in response to the tugging incitation so vigorously that I was obliged to draw away to avoid orgasm then and there. I was torn between two impulses; I wanted to let it 'come' and at the same time I wanted the delightful ecstasy to last as long as possible.
The problem was not resolved by me, however, but by Monty, who raised up, ripped his trousers open and sprang upon the bed between my trembling legs.
Hard, rigid and hot I could feel it in there, distending my flesh to the limit of endurance, inspiring me with a wild desire to work on it rapidly, violently, until it poured out the balm which the fever within me craved. For an interval he remained poised above me, motionless, looking down into my face. His body did not move but within me I could feel the muscular contractions of the turgid thing which penetrated me. They followed each other with regular precision and each time I perceived that tantalizing twitch my ovaries threatened to release their own flood of pleasure tears.
'Oh!' I moaned finally, and unable to resist the urge, moved my hips in pleading incitation. 'You've got me in such a state! Please do something!'
'All right! Come on!'
And in a second that rigid shaft was plunging in and out in a mad dance of lust.
'Oh! Oh! Oh!' I gasped, and as though incited by my fervour, the turgid arm drove home in shorter, harder strokes.
Higher and higher mounted the swirling tides, lifting me upon their crest, no longer resisting, but an eager, willing sacrifice, panting to yield up the store of passion with which I was surcharged.
I perceived the approach of the crisis, that delicious prelude in which one trembles on the brink of ecstasy, in which the senses seem to hesitate for one sweet moment before the breathless plunge.
And in that critical moment the throbbing weapon which was working such havoc within my body suddenly ceased its movement and was held in rigid inactivity.
Above me I saw a face which smiled sardonically down into mine and vaguely I comprehended that he had stopped his movements with the deliberate intention of forestalling my orgasm in the last moment. But he had stopped too late, the tide had risen too high to recede and with but a momentary hesitation, it swept onward and carried me, gasping, writhing and swooning in its embrace.
When the, languid spell which always overcomes me after a hard orgasm had passed, I found him still crouched above me and his cock, as stiff and rigid as it had been at first, still inside me.
'Why did you stop just as I was coming?' I complained weakly. 'You nearly made it go back on me!'
'That's what I was trying to do,' he replied cynically, 'but you put it over anyway. You know the old saying, baby, you can't eat your cake and have it, too. I like to enjoy the cake awhile before eating it.'
'That's all very well,' I rejoined, 'but when there's plenty more cake in the pantry, there's no use being stingy with it.'
'So!' he said, smiling, 'there's plenty more in the pantry, is there? I'm glad to hear it. But tell me this, does the second piece ever taste as good as the first?'
'And how!' I exclaimed fervently. 'The second piece tastes better than the first, and the third better than the second. The more I eat, the better I like it!'
