then, waited for his own to touch the corner of my lips, and felt the most exquisite thrill. 'Oh, Papa!'
'Just one little kiss, my sweet'. 'You p… p… promise me, Papa?' Lips buzzed against each other's as we spoke. 'Open your mouth more. Bring it under mine and let our tongues touch, darling'.
'N… n… n… no, I mustn't… Naughty… Please, Papa…
Haaar-oooh!' A savagery possessed him then. His mouth mashed to my own, his forearms thrust beneath my thighs, hands strong and urgent underneath my bottom cheeks-the two halves of my apple on his palms.
His cock sucked out, thrust in again, ploughing my furrow with a will as if indeed to ram his message home, I flooding sobs and moans into his mouth. 'You beauty-AH! You're coming over Papa's prick', he mouthed, feeling my tingling spurts glide down his prick. 'Yes, no! Oh, I can't help myself! You mustn't, mustn't, mustn't…Oooh yes, OOOH!' 'My little love, my pet, my dove, your cunt is taking Papa's cock at last. Do you not like it? Say you do!' 'Yes, Papa, yes-oh, do it more!' Impassioned were my arms about his neck. My legs coiled up as they had done before, crossed round his waist, and clinging like a child. His moans beseeched my tongue to be more lewd. -'Cock in my cunt, Papa, oh yes!' But I was drifting, drifting out away from all such childish nonsense as his piston worked, oiled by the salutations he received. Mouth open wide, I let him suck upon my tongue and surged my hips as hungrily as his, slap-smack of testicles beneath my globe. 'Ask me to fuck you, darling-quickly-say!'
Oh, by what rote man brings himself to final pleasure thus! The words are but as cymbals to the violin that plays more sweetly inbetween one's thighs. Each clash of brass brings the crescendo near.
And yet the bubblings of saliva twixt our mouths, the shunting of his prick in my tight sheath, the animality of hot desire, brought me to answer him in kind. 'Fuck, fuck, Papa… Oh, do it to me, yes! I want to feel you come, I want to feel!' The trigger was thus pressed. I wondered if he knew in his mad-whirling thoughts who was beneath him, yet in turn I cared not in that moment who was on me, for the bliss was paramount. In huge great jerks he came, white floods of sperm that jetted up and splashed against my walls, I moaning endlessly to him to do it more and more and more and more… until we sank exhausted, quivering, and I beneath him crushed, my legs down straight and splayed out wide on either side of his. There were no kisses then. He hid his face into my shoulder. I resisted stroking him but merely lay quiescent underneath as though regret were seeping into me. Once more, my face averted, I lay quiet. 'Angel, my angel', came his whisper, but I did not stir. 'Papa, get off me, do-oh please! Ugh! What a horrid mess it makes', I murmured as if awakening from a dream. I made to close my legs, but when they touched his trousers opened them again as if disdain had seized me, or regret.
'I have creamed your cunny, pet, at last. You have more curls there than I thought you have. Your bottom is a dream of bliss, so firm, resilient and bold. How long have I watched it wriggle underneath your gowns'. His voice was broken, weaker than it was before. The flag was limp but still the battle moved. 'You m… m… mustn't talk to me like that. I'll tell Mama, I will. You're hurting me! I cannot breathe! Oh, please, Papa!' His cock slipped out from my engaging lovemouth, dripped its pearls upon my thigh.
Crouched over me, he turned by force my chin to meet his gaze. My own was cold and distant, though. He read there all he wished to see, I knew. The game had to be renewed, and ever on. 'You will not tell her, dear. I beg you not'. He lumbered up, his thick prick dangling down as though to display it hopefully to me. I covered up myself then in a flash and scrambled to my feet in turn. For a long moment I gave him my most woeful look. 'Promise you won't again', I said. His face looked haggard, like a battle field when all the guns have ceased to fire and dusk falls on the bodies where they lie. 'I promise, yes; I'll try', he mumbled, woebegone. A silence fell. We gazed each other out, and then eyes fell. The carpet was a dark pool of eternity. His purplish knob, still big, was pendant, sticky with our spendings-the rude witness of the deed. I felt my cunny pulse with longing still. I dragged my feet and stopped. Shoulder to shoulder almost, and the moment held. 'What will you do now?', he placated, voice a-tremble as he spoke. 'I have to go out, Papa-to see my friends. You know I do'. 'Yes, yes, of course'. The hour was limp, as was his prick. He tucked it in again beneath his cloth.
Guilt hung on him like a rent flag. One look from me would turn it to desire again. And, knowing that, I knew not how to look or where to turn. The play was over and the act was done. 'What time shall you be back?' 'I do not know'. I did not look at him; I toed the floor, showed my uncertainty as best I could. 'Long before bedtime though, Papa', I ventured, turned my head away and tried to blush.
His hand touched mine. I let my wrist go limp, and did not turn my fingertips to his, but even so he sought them, found them, touched.
'Does not your cunny tingle still?', he asked. His words burst out, without control. 'Pa-PA! I… OH!' He spun me, held me crushed to him, groped down beneath my bottom cheeks and raised me struggling on tiptoe. 'Tonight! You hear me? Or I'll bring the strap to you, my girl'. He raised my chin and gripped it painfully, and forced me to look up into his eyes. My own showed anguish mingled with desire. 'You wouldn't, Papa! No-oh, please! Oh, not that horrid strap again! It burns me and you know it does'. 'And to what purpose-eh? Now, answer me!' 'To, to, to make me let you'.
'Well?' 'Oh, please, Papa-I have to go. Don't crush me so'.
'The strap or cock, then-which is it to be? I will have no further nonsense from you now'. 'Yes-yes-all right!'
'Come-say it clear; I wish to hear you say'. 'You're h… h… hurting me, Papa. Yes, yes, all right!' His grip had slackened and I pressed away, stepped back from him and gathered up my hat and reticule. 'What?', he demanded. I put my bonnet on all in a rush, my fingers trembling visibly. The bizarre occurrence had begun to take on a near reality. 'Wh… what you said'. I giggled it and choked at the same time, rushed to the door and sped along the hall. 'My love!', he called, but I was gone, was gone, my driver starting up as I appeared, and brushing cobwebs from his eyes. He raised his whip in readiness. I smiled at him and tumbled in. He little knew the gesture he had made.
CHAPTER 16
I said nothing to the others of my new encounter with that strange and yet magnetic man. Had I thought less of him, I would. I felt a pity for his state, the utter loneliness that must enfold him in between the stagings of the same play on and on, his grapplings for the words he wished to hear from the mouths of whimpering girls whose legs he spread. Perhaps it was a case of age and youth, I thought, but then remembered James' warm, eager eyes, his hands that groped me up beneath my skirt, and knew it not to be so.
'Shall we not go home?', I asked of Jane the next morning when Julie said she had to leave. Her uncle was to come for her: an invasion by a visitor from a far world. 'I suppose so', Jane said. She had a feeling in her, as she said, that she wished to go somewhere, do something, but she knew not what it was nor where: a sensation not unfamiliar to me, too, and one that stirs me often still, like a branch that shakes itself in a wild wind, pretending it would leave the mother trunk. 'We shall have cock wherever we go-that is for certain', Julie said. Her tone was placid, and no smiling wrinkles round her eyes. Sometimes she had solemnity and was not always fey and bright. But her moods, like those of mine and Jane's, were ever at a change. I was to see a new side to her now, but knew it not until we disengaged ourselves from Harry and Aramintha and went off. 'It may rain today', said Julie's Uncle Herbert in the carriage, she beside him and we facing them. He was a small man who forever preened himself, wore silk cravats and purple spats, and had but a nibbler of a moustache upon his upper lip. 'It may or it may not. We shall know it if the cows lie down. Be quiet. I have not said that you might speak. My friends, dear Uncle, are not as you think, and will not have your sauciness'. If one can hear another gape, then I heard Jane do so. My own face flushed. I knew not where to look- her words so brusque. She whom Papa had carried limp and willing from our bed to say her prayers so many weeks before. I expected her uncle to bluster or to shout. Instead he looked more meek and bowed his head. The motions of the carriage jolted him more than it did myself. 'What were we talking of?', asked Julie to me then, as though he were not there. I covered up confusion by replying something quite mundane. Her uncle raised his face and was expressionless. A tubular protrusion showed between his thighs. I must have stared at it, for Julie laughed and said, 'He likes to have his quietness when with ladies. Do you not?', she asked him, and he nodded, dumb. Thereat she placed her hand upon his thigh and put her thumb upon his covered tool whose knob outlined itself beneath the cloth. -in a moment we shall stop to have a drink', she said, and called out something to the driver who then hollered back. Julie sat quietly then-sat like a queen. Her thumb brushed back and forth.
Each time it did, her uncle quivered and compressed his lips. His eyes were pebbles-were expressionless. I
