It was not without still further heart stirrings that I found the Selwyn’s occupying my hotel room in the bungalow as their sitting room, and using what had been Lizzie Wilson’s as a bedroom for the girls and children. The door which communicated between the two rooms was open, and there, as I sat beside Fanny at dinner, I saw the very bedstead on which I had so often fucked the beautiful Lizzie with rapture indescribable. As I looked at it and revolved past scenes in my mind, Fanny caught the direction of my eyes.
“That is my bed,” said she, innocently. “Is it?” I replied mechanically. Oh! What had come over me that the sight of that bed stead did not make my prick rage? I am sure I was dull and stupid at dinner. The Colonel, however, was in high glee. I knew why.
The poor man had at last outwitted his careful wife and obtained the much longed for fuckable cunt. So he was beaming and overflowing with anecdote. I let him talk, and behaved as a respectable listener, only occasionally replying to some question Fanny put, from time to time, hoping to bring on one of our old time free and unconstrained conversations. The way she stuck to me all that evening touched me. Instead of being offended at my obstinate silence, she came and sat next to me in the verandah, where I smoked cheroot after cheroot, listening to the Colonel’s continual chatter, until at last Mrs. Selwyn with a warning that it was growing late, carried him off to bed, leaving me with Fanny alone.
“What is the matter with you, dear Captain Devereaux?” at last she said, laying her gentle little hand on mind. “You have hardly spoken one word to me since you came. I am afraid the march is too much for you and you feel done up.”
“Well! Fanny, I do. But I don’t know that it is exactly the march. I can’t quite tell you what it is, but I have never been myself since that fierce night of the Afghan.”
“Ah! Mama says she is sure that had something to do with you being so gloomy. Why should you be? If I had killed an Afghan under such circumstances, I should be so proud there would be no holding me in.”
“Ah! Fanny dear, before that night I was a man. I had power, force, strength, but ever since I have felt that I have none left—no power—do you understand?”
“Power? What do you mean by power?”
“That which makes a man acceptable to his wife, dear!”
“Oh!”
Did Fanny understand? I fancied she did, and after a little silence she said, “Do you know I had such a funny, such a nice dream’ bout you last night! I dreamt it three times—but I am afraid—that is, I don’t believe it can ever come true for all that. .”
“What was it?”
“I dreamt that you came whilst I was asleep, in that room, and woke me just like the Afghan did—only more gently—you woke me in the same manner as he did, and you asked me to let you warm yourself in my arms, and you did plead so very earnestly that I said you might, and then—”
“And then?” said I, eagerly.
“Well! I don’t quite know how to tell you! However, you got into bed and right onto me, and folded me to you so tight—Oh! so tight! and—I don’t know what you did exactly—but, Oh!—it was so delightful and you were so happy—but I awoke—all of a sudden—and you were not there. I positively cried for—Oh! Captain Devereaux, you know we all love you!”
If this was not straight talk I don’t know what it was. But the effect on me was magical. In a moment my weakness seemed to leave me and my long dead and useless prick sprang up in all his pristine might and stood as it had stood for Lizzie Wilson. The whole atmosphere seemed redolent of fucking, desire as strong as ever had assailed me came. Fanny’s bosom I could see was rising and falling rapidly. It seemed to me that she was then and there offering herself to me if I would but have her. Her hand tightened on mine, and I gently drew it forward, intending to lay it on my now rigid prick, and to show her that I understood and was quite ready if she was so willing. A standing prick, dear reader, has no conscience! All my fine resolutions not to take advantage of Fanny had flown to the four winds of heaven! I could remember nothing but the sweet vision I had had of her dear little cunt, spoiled as its beauty was by the unclean blood of the menses, but tempting all the same. Whether she actually felt my prick or not I did not then know, for at that moment Mabel came quickly out of the bedroom and said, “Fanny, Mama says you must not stay up any longer, and that you are to come to bed.” Without even saying good night but with a firm squeeze of her hand an mine, Fanny jumped up and ran.
Excited as I was with the tumult of joy and passion, desire and the stream of luxurious wine in my heart, I jumped up too, and taking Mabel round the waist I kissed her again and again, pressing her two nice young little bubbies as I did so to her last delight.
“What a regular woman you are growing, Mabel! What a fine bosom you have! What perfect little bubbies! I suppose you have plenty of hair here,” and I slipped my hand down to her motte and pressed my itching finger between the thighs tell her little cunt.
“Oh! Captain Devereaux!” she exclaimed in a low tone, “you bad, naughty man!” but she made no defense. I sat down and pulled her to my knee, and had my hand under her petticoats like a shot, and my finger buried in her little virgin and warm cunt before she knew what I was up to!
“Mabel! Mabel! You are a woman!” I exclaimed, quite beside myself with excitement. “Don’t you think you want a husband?”
“Yes,” she whispered hotly, returning my burning kisses.
“I often feel I should like a man.”
God only knows what I should have done but I think I might say that Mabel’s maidenhead would have been done for there “and then, only for Fanny’s voice ringing angrily out of the room, “Mabel! Come to bed!”
With a last feel of the sweet little cunt, which alas! I had not had time to make spend, and with a last kiss fully returned by the gratified girl, who only twelve as she was, was precocious indeed, I let Mabel go, whispering to her “not to tell” and then rejoicing over my fully regained power and “standing” I went home to my tent and quickly undressed and viewed with delight that fine stalwart Johnnie who had so often stood to me so well in my encounters with the lovely foe.
I must leave to my male readers, especially those who have been really ardent and stood vigorously, to try to realize what it was to me to have regained “power.” Certainly I had never in all my life been so intensely unhappy as since the day when first I began to think that my prick would never stand again, for I thought I had been weakened almost to death by the loss of my blood, yet by degrees my strength returned more and more from day to day as far as my muscles went, but not so far as my prick or balls were concerned. At last this fact had been forced upon me, and from that day I began to get more and more depressed. But now, now wonder in my tremendous excitement, my unutterable delight and frenzy and happiness, for I had seized upon the lucky little Mabel and given her young heart joy and her youthful cunt happiness and pleasure. For every one of my dear girl readers will allow that it is an awfully pleasant thing to have their own sweet bubbies and delightful cunts felt and caressed by the man whom they admire, and Mabel was surely as delighted as they had been, and will, I hope, often again be. The only wonder is that I had not been much more quick with Fanny, for I could have no doubt whatever of the meaning of her telling me of the dream . Ah! she, like Mabel, had no doubt often felt too that she would like a man! And the man she wanted was myself! The whole thing had happened so suddenly, and she had run away so quickly that I had not fully realized my position and hers before it was too late to talk to her, and I had taken Mabel instead. I went to my bed in a fever of joy and happiness. From this moment I would devote myself to fiercest siege of Fanny’s dearest and sweetest cunt, and it would go hard with me if I did not take that tempting little maidenhead within a week or ten days: As for Mabel, I felt a little sorry that I had gone so far with her, not that she was not quite fuckable, and very nice indeed, but I might find her in th
e way. She was quite as eager for my prick as Fanny could be, and in time, perhaps, I should see my way to entering her little tender cunt also. Strange to say I never contemplated Amy at this juncture.
I had ravishing dreams. I fucked I don’t know how many of my former lady loves, but neither Fanny nor Amy came in for their share. In the morning I woke and found not only my dear old prick, to my joy and delight, standing as full as in days of yore, and unmistakable signs of a most prolific wet dream, a sure sign that my balls had recovered their power of secreting the essence of man, so dear to the sweet girls who know its value, and I trust equally well know the terrible danger involved in receiving it into their glowing cunts without the most perfect precautions. For ’tis a powerful poison to happiness if taken wrongly, sweet maids!
Why does malicious fortune so delight in raising the cup of glee and happiness to our lips, just to dash it away as we commence to recognize how sweet are its contents? But is it not too often so? As I went to fall in with my company I met the regimental postman, who handed me a letter, which I saw at a glance was from my beloved Louie. I had a conviction that there would be bad news in it. Bad news! Oh! what had I become when I deemed it bad news to hear that she was starting by the next mail to come to join me in India! And further that she had waited until now to announce that we had another baby to expect, the fruits of our too prolific fucking, about March next. She had not been sure, so did not like to mention it until she was certain. The usual signs did not show themselves, but now she was certain that a baby was really in existence and had run nearly six months of its natural life! Then—if she did come—and Louie was a woman of her word—I should have before me a time when I should not have that intense pleasure in fucking her which I had when her womb was free from lading.
She said my letters had been written in such increased low spirits, unlike myself, that she was getting more and more alarmed, and that coûte que coûte, she would come and join me, she did not know where, but she would find out in Bombay on landing. Next mail here—she must be in the Red Sea now! Or perhaps in the Indian Ocean and she would get to Fackabad, almost as soon as we would! Oh! Fanny! Fanny! How could I have you now! Gods! To think that the day had come when I did not want the woman who at one time had persuaded my soul and my senses that I should never care for another, the woman whose darling cunt also made my prick stand and had taken the shine out of all others! I was I tell you dear readers, torn with contending emotions. It was too late to stop Louie. She was as surely on her way as I had felt Mabel’s little cunt, dear little cunt! I should never fuck it now! No! nor Fanny’s either! And Just about as I had at last made up my mind that I could not without dishonor to myself or either of these charming girls stay the craving which we all three felt. No wonder Lavie, who soon join me on the dusty road, found me glum and cast down. .
“Look here! Devereaux!” said he, “I know well what it is. You are just killing yourself with the foolish fancy that your prick will never stand again! Now listen to me! Be wise and give up such absurd ideas! You will find the old gentleman lift himself up again someday soon, if you will leave him alone, and let him wear off his sulks, but if your mind dwells on it you may render yourself permanently impotent, for the mind has great power over the senses. I’ll just tell you a little story of myself as an illustration. It happened at Woolrich three years ago. I had been on duty at the Herbert Hospital, and a brother officer came walking home with me in the evening, a fellow I was very fond of. It was about nine o’clock, and on passing the Artillery Barracks I saw a very nice looking girl, evidently a Poll, standing on the pavement. I wished her good night and asked her if she was expecting anybody. “Yes, dear,” she said, “I was expecting you.”
“Oh!” then said I, “come along and I’ll go home with you, where do you live?”
“In Wood Street,” said she. “That is not your street, Lavie,” said my friend, “and it is mine, so you had better let me see the young lady home, and go to your lodging yourself.”
“Not I,” I replied, laughing, “I want a poke and I am going to fuck this girl, am I not, my dear?”
“Of course,” said she, “you asked me first and I’ll come with you, but if your friend likes, I’ll go to him or he can come to me when you are done.”
“Buttered buns!” said my friend, laughing, “No thank you. Tomorrow night, however, if you will meet me at the road to the cemetery at eight, I will take you home and we will have it out then.”
“All right,” said she. Well, we walked on and soon were at Wood Street, and just as the girl turned in at her gate, and I was following her, my friend called out to her, “You had far better have come with me, for Lavie is good for nothing, and you’ll get no change out of his balls tonight.” The girl laughed and so did I. Well, we went upstairs to her bedroom and undressed and she was as fine and nicely made a little Poll as you ever saw; good bubbies, nice skin, good arms and legs, and a fine black bush hiding a soft, fat little cunt! But by Jove! I could not get a stand! The words of my friend kept ringing in my ears, and when he first said that I thought to myself, my God! fancy if that came true!—and true it did come. Simply because I doubted my own power. The poor girl was very much put about. Everything she could think of was tried, but in vain, to make my brute of a prick stand. I wanted to pay her and leave her, for I was miserable, but she, like a little darling, would not let me go. You try and sleep, said she. “I won’t touch you anymore, and I dare say your prick will be all right by morning, and we can fuck then. I thought I never would sleep, but at last I dozed off and I suppose in an hour’s time woke up and found I had a glorious stand. The girl was fast asleep, with her back towards me. Without waking her I got one of my legs between hers, working myself round and along her, until I had the right direction, and when she woke I had my prick buried in her cunt up to my balls. Well, she would not have it that way, but insisted on my doing Adam and Eve and I never enjoyed a night’s fucking more. I had her seven or eight times and when I went away, after she had given me some breakfast she asked me if she had not done right to not let me? She said she knew it was only nervous depression, on the effect of fancy, and that she had more than once had experience with it, and so was not surprised that she was disappointed. So you see, Devereaux, how I who had no such cause as you have had to be weak, lost my power from simple imagination. Don’t you indulge in fears anymore.”
I thanked Lavie heartily for his sympathy, and then told him that I had quite unexpectedly recovered, how I had had a wet dream and how delighted I had been. He was glad to hear what I had told him, as he had begun to get alarmed for me, but he evidently was curious to know why I was so very despondent. So I told him it arose from my having received a letter from my wife announcing her speedy arrival in India with a six month’s baby in her belly, and I said I was alarmed for her safety. Lavie was quite taken in, and the rest of our conversation turned on the folly of pregnant women undertaking long and tedious journeys, the terrors of the hot weather, infant mortality in India, and so forth, but my mind lamented the lost chance of dear Fanny’s cunt, just as it seemed so well within my reach.
On arrival at Akhora I went direct to the Selwyn tent and found Mrs. Selwyn and the Colonel sitting in the shade. of it, for the sun was burning hot, although the air was so cool, it being in the middle of the delicious cool weather of northern India. Fanny, who was also sitting by her mother’s side, blushed, Oh! she blushed a beet root red blush, which fortunately her mother did not see. Mabel, standing in the tent door, leaning against the door pole, grinned at me, and turned red too for a moment, but knowing that she had a dark background, she gave me a perfect contour of her rising bosom, swelling out her fine little bubbies as much as she could, and showing her legs too by occasionally putting her foot up against the opposite door pole as high as she could reach. She had extremely good legs and very pretty feet and ankles. Jardine and Amy were sitting at the far corner of the tent. The Colonel soon went off
to see the camp, and I then told Mrs. Selwyn about Loutie’s letter.
Both she and Fanny called out in surprise at the sudden determination Louie had taken, and looked at one another. Poor Fanny turned as white as death. So white that I thought she was going to faint. Mrs. Selwyn saw it, but fortunately did not put it down to the real cause.
“Fanny! Fanny! God bless the child! Did you ever see a portal turn so white in a second?”
Fanny’s faintness, however, only lasted a second. With that wonderful determination which I afterwards found to be so strong a feature of her character, she pulled herself together again and said it was nothing.
“Nothing!” exclaimed her mother, “I’ll tell you what it is, you are overdoing yourself. This march and the long rides are wearing you out. You must ride in the Dhooyl like Amy and me.”
“Oh! Mother!” cried Fanny, “I really can’t! I assure you it is really nothing! I really am as strong as a horse and quite fit to bear—” but here she paused as if seeking for a word.
“A husband and get children!” cried the impudent Mabel. “Mabel!” cried Mrs. Selwyn, “how dare you! How dare you say such things, and before Captain Devereaux too!
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