swollen cock in her tight little cunt.
The tickler had something to do with it, I dare say. The feathers all around the edge stimulated each and every nerve of Winnie's tender flesh as I fucked her. To her it must have seemed as though she were incredibly full of cock that touched her innermost recesses in new and exciting ways.
She was unable to resist the ring, and my lust, for long. I drove into her again and again, feeling the head of my instrument butting the walls of her womb, while she let down of flood of pearly nectar that inundated my candystick. As she did so, she clamped her legs around my back and drew me more deeply into her. This was the final straw, and I began to spurt into her.
When I had finished, I withdrew and removed the tickler and soon Winnie was all questions: “Why did you never make me feel so intensely before? I didn't feel particularly naughty tonight, but you made me lose all self- control. I never enjoyed it so keenly. Oh, you're wonderful, Frank. I'm all yours, you know, but now you've made me crazy. How did you do it so wonderfully?”
Of course, I kept my secret. For Winnie and me it led to an astonishing series of experiences. Passion provokes passion and when one gives intense pleasure, one is summoned to repeat the event. Again and again I used the tickler; varying the motions, the tempo of my pressures and their soft oscillation, and each time with some new thrill of delight. I often heard her cry: “Oh, you are in me and that is Paradise for me! My cunt opens to you, and at the same time you excite me, tease me so that I could bite you. When I am all yours, you make me feel most intensely: I cannot explain.”
At the same time I noticed that as her passion increased, so too did her love; she became radiant, more and more devoted to me and would wait for hours for me to see her. Indeed, it was this trait of absolute devotion which eventually led to our separation.
I resolved now to try the tickler as soon as possible with May. Somehow or other, I felt sure that May's response would be extraordinary, for though I had not yet caused her to lose control, I knew she was passionately endowed; her kisses promised much and after a few kisses she used to tremble from head to foot. It was as though her honey-colored flesh became alive. I could never forget it. So I resolved to use the hedgehog at the proper time. I would beg her to come soon and have a memorable night.
Next day, I gave Mrs. Redfern fifty pounds and asked her to bring May that night. She could not, she told me. She would have to give the girl a couple of days' notice if I wanted her for the whole night. And so it was arranged.
On the appointed evening I made everything ready, down to a divan with a rough tiger skin thrown over it. Such was to be the bower of our bliss. We would make love on the tough hide of the old jungle beast. May delighted with our couchshe couldn't withhold from fingering it with her slender brown fingers.
“I'm glad it's not alive!” she said with a laugh which was all the more attractive for its slightly Oriental quality.
I invited her to get undressed. She did so with alacrity. Once again, the sight of her naked beauty set my blood afire. She must have felt similarly, for the tips of her pert breasts were fiercely erect and the look in her eyes was one of passionate anticipation and submission. Then I lifted her warm body and laid it on top of the harshly striped tiger skin. I bent down over her pale loins and began to excite her with the tip of my tongue. By this time, the hair had grown thinly over the mound and I must say I welcomed the faint and silky chevron which did something at least to lessen the effect of the stubborn, almost unwomanly sex.
Soon she responded with an agitated movement of her haunches, breathing deeply the while and articulating soundless words with her lips. When she was quite excited, I mounted her in the normal way. I fucked her in slow, luxurious fashion, allowing the full length of my cock to enter and withdraw from her while my belly slid along hers. Our pubic bones ground together on the down stroke, and I rotated my hips and mashed myself against her so as to spread the lips of her pussy. The heat rose within me almost at once and I was hard put not to explode within her delightful grotto before we experienced greater pleasure, though I am sure she would have been just as accepting had I selfishly tended to my own needs, for that was her gracious way.
Only then, remembering the advice of Mrs. Redfern, did I attempt to use love's instrument. A few minutes later we were again thrusting passionately against one another, only this time I was armed with the feathered silver ring. She did not respond to its use as quickly as Winnie, nor as passionately. Yet, to my astonishment, she guessed what the instrument was; the priests had educated her sexually to complete understanding. Of course, when I offered her a new dress and a new hat, and a pair of gloves, I found enthusiastic response in her. May was much more susceptible to a financial manifestation of gratitude than to passion.
What curious differences there are in women. Winnie took all such gifts as a matter of course, but responded to a new touch of sensuality as a violin to the bow. Of course, it probably had something to do with the difference in station between the two girls. Passion among the Indians flows free. A gift is more appreciated in the Orient. Naturally, because of the heights of passion and abandon to which I could arouse the dear girl, I often preferred Winnie to May. I have always said that Winnie won me so completely that I never learned India thoroughly; she so obsessed me that I could spare no time for anyone else or any other thing. For those hours that we lay together entwined, I shall be forever grateful to her.
But alas! Her devotion made her family think. Her father had her followed once to my hotel and at length her mother came to me and begged me for the girl's sake to go away and leave her, or she would never be able to get married. It nearly broke my heart to give my consent, but finally I did so and went on to Burma.
Mrs. Redfern was greatly put out by my decision. She advised me not to go to Burma. “It's a filthy place, sir!” she said. If you must go, take my advice and have nothing to do with women while you're there.”
I thanked her for her advice and reiterated my decision to quit Bombay for the sake of Winnie's future. Finally, I think Mrs. Redfern almost came to agree with me that it was the only thing to be done.
In Rangoon there began for me a series of adventures which forced me to the conclusion that the Burmese half-caste girl is one of the most fascinating creatures in God's world, and she is certainly one of the prettiest and best-formed; she is cheap, too. Many are sold at age fifteen to eighteenand even youngerby their parents and seldom cost even twenty pounds. I would have bought many had I known what to do with them afterward, but I hadn't the heart to use them for a short time and then leave them penniless and free in a big city. I was thus limited by a dictate of conscience to buy only those few for whom I could provide after my eventual leave-taking. I hesitated a long time between the numbers of two and three, but finally discretion had the better part of greed and lust, and I decided to content myself with two.
Their names? I forget their original names because I heard them only at the beginning. I decided to call them Rose and Lily. Burning my boats behind me as I do, I had no need of their names, for I had no intention of writing them through the intermediary of a missionary once I was gone. It was unfortunate that we couldn't speak each other's language, but the girls seemed to have a sixth sense of knowing what it was I wanted of them, and they were ever at my side with fruit and other refreshments at the very moment when the desire overtook me. Had I a longer writing life, I would certainly spend one year writing the detailed history of my short marriage to these two Burmese maidens, both barely past their eighteenth year, but I have still much to record and daily, in spite of my will, my sight fails the more. I shall have to content myself with describing one or two of their antics.
Perhaps the strangest was the way they used to love to make a “fur collar” for me with their thighs. This was really a delightful procedure. Literally, they would twine their thighs into a kind of collar for me, my neck clamped between their soft mounds, and my head the only part of me to protrude upward between their dark bellies. The idea was that I should tickle them with my tongue until they allowed me to break free. Without exaggeration I sometimes was forced to struggle with themso tight was their holdfor as much as fifteen minutes.
Another of their favorite tricks was to smear themselves all over with a sweet-smelling oil and then to wrestle with me until the oil from their bodies covered my own. Finally, there is the trick that some Burmese women have of smearing the male member with honey at every opportunity so that it and the female lips it penetrates are always sweet and tasty.
But this was not what I was looking for. I had wearied of passion, with Winnie, with May, with Rose and Lilythe old wanderlust was awake in me. This time it was Japan and China that called. My time for traveling was limited, so I resolved to move on.
One thing I might make mention of: The custom of living with native women and having half-breed children is practiced by Englishmen and Americans throughout the East. The children are superb. The Eurasian girl or boy in Burma is often an excellent specimen, both physically and mentally. It is unfortunate that the girl's lot is almost always unhappy and often tragic. This leads me to say that the complete understanding given by the Oriental mind
