“Oh, Amy! Oh, ‘my! You have hurt me.”
Now if a woman has a tender place in her heart for anything in this world, she has for a man’s prick and balls. Let my readers think for a second, and I think nearly all must recollect instances where women of their acquaintances have heard with apparent indifference of men being mutilated in any particular, but have shown the very greatest sympathy and have shuddered when they have been told of the mutilation of prick or bans, or both. Amy was no exception.
“Oh! Captain Devereaux! I really did not mean to hurt it so much. Oh, poor thing, poor thing. She hung over me, as I had turned on to my face, for I had some extremely sharp pains in my groin, and a dull heavy pain at the lower part of my belly. I felt Amy’s hand groping along my right groin, and at first I resisted a little, but a sharp bit of grass happening to run into my prick, I made a sudden movement, which enabled her to get at what she wished to caress and soothe, but to my astonishment, for I had no sensation to ten me the fact, she cried out:
“Oh, Captain Devereaux! It’s stiff. It’s stiff. It’s standing beautifully.”
The pain I had endured had been sharp enough, but it passed like a sudden twinge of toothache. Amy’s exclamation seemed to drive it away and I could now feel that I had indeed a glorious stand. I felt so grateful to Amy that I turned and caught her in my arms and kissed her before I pushed her on her back, and got between those beautiful rounded, snowy thighs, which she uncovered for me with immense haste and speed as though she feared the stiffness of my prick might go as suddenly as it had come.
It was a lovely fuck! A completely glorious luck! and at the end, whilst I was still lying with my motte hard pressed to her which leaped and jumped, and whilst I still enjoying the throbbing and squeezing, and cuking of her deliciously excited and melting little cunt, I could not help saying, “Oh, Amy, try and reconcile Fanny and we will have many another like this.”
The episode did me considerable good. It broke the current of my thoughts. It raised the tone of my body. It gave me more hope towards Fanny, for I left Amy in a much more amiable mood than I had found her in, and my limp prick, and the idea of what might happen should Colonel Selwyn discover that I fucked Fanny, were things both new to her, and I was sure were going to do their work on her mind. Fanny would be angry, grieved, and more or less destroyed by hearing the news, but bad as that would be it was not so bad, as if added to all this, was the stinging and triumphant insults which I felt certain Amy, in true sisterly fashion, had prepared for her.
Since I had become Station Staff Officer, I had been relieved from the necessity of dining at the mess of my regiment, so that I used my freedom in this respect pretty largely, and seldom dined here two nights running. The truth is, I disliked Mess dinners more than I can express, and I do not think anybody can like them as a continuance. This night, however, I was glad to go and sit at dinner with my brother officers, for their chat helped me to pass away some of those hours which I felt to be purgatorial, between the house of last fucking Amy and that when I was to meet Fanny.
On my way home I looked in at the Colonel’s Bungalow. I knew I had better take the bull by the horns, and I rather expected to find Fanny ill or unable to see me. But no, there the sweet girl was, glad and happy—she was all too evidently still unaware of my terrible infidelity. It was clear, too, that Amy had not given her my note, for poor Fanny took the opportunity of whispering to me that she was quite “well” and that she had a lot to tell me when she came over. Amy was a perfect study. She acted her part to perfection. She was just exactly the same Amy she had been, to all appearances, before Fanny went to Rampur, and before there had been any question of my fucking her:. I warn Amy’s husband, should he read these pages, that he might as well not attempt to keep her under watch and guard. If Amy ever takes a fancy for some young fellow, she will have him and her way, and that right under her husband’s nose, and he won’t know it. Her manner to me was astounding. Since the moment she had got me in the trap between her thighs, she had been so unlike the old Amy, that the sudden assumption of a driving, domineering, hard hearted, willful woman’s manner had stunned me, as much as her extraordinary behaviour. She had had me quite under a spell in consequence. She had jumped upon and crushed me by the suddenness of the blow. But tonight she had so completely resumed her old manner, appearance and tone, that, but for the too, too sweet reminiscences of her oft times visited cunt, I should have imagined I must have dreamt I had fucked her, and not that I had really had her something like fifty different times during the past week. Alas! My prick which had refused to stand that afternoon for her until she had beaten it, did what it had never done in the old days before Fanny went to Rampur, those old days, which though only separated from these new times by a week, seemed so long, long ago, for it stood stiffly the moment Amy came near me. In the old days that irrepressible organ would have remained quiescent until Fanny’s approach would have aroused him to assume his grand proportions, but tonight it grew stiff the moment it perceived the nearness of Amy’s cunt.
I went home then, knowing that the storm had yet to burst, for I imagined that when she and Amy retired for the night, Amy would surely tell her all, and the first effect of her. grief and indignation would be to make her take a vow never to see me again.
But instead of going to bed I sat up. My head buzzed with fatigue and excitement, but tired as I was, I knew that if I did go to bed I should not sleep. Whilst I was thus seated in a half dreamy and truly painful state of mind, I got a shock which woke me to life and action in a moment, for I heard the swift, light steps of Fanny coming down the verandah. Before I could rise she was in my room, into which she burst, as if life, or all that was worth having, depended upon the swiftness of her movements. On seeing me she stopped dead. A glance at her face told me she was in possession of the news. Poor Fanny! Ah! Gentle reader! Tell me, do you know anything in this world as hideously painful, so agonizing to the mind and heart, as the discovery that the person in whom your confidence is placed, on whom all your love, devotion, heart and soul are raised, is false, a traitor! Fanny had never loved before she loved me. ‘With the whole heartedness of youth she had given herself to me, heart, soul, body, unreservedly, and she trusted in me as in her God.
For a moment she stood looking at me, her lovely eyes expressing all the pain she felt, but at the same time a kind of hesitancy to believe that what she now knew was real and not a dreadful dream. Her lips were parted as though to speak, but no words came. Her bosom heaved tumultuously, and her lovely firm breasts seemed as though the struggle going on within her would make them burst their points through the bodice. I had seen Fanny in a passion many times, but never in such a state as she now appeared in. Her look fascinated me. She seemed to be trying to read my inmost soul through my eyes, and I remained dumb.
“Oh! Charlie!” she cried, all of a sudden, “tell me it is not true! Oh! why did you do it? Oh! I never thought that my Charlie would have been so-so-so-cruel to me!”
She turned to the table next which she stood, and laying her arms upon it, bent her lovely head down to them and commenced to sob and weep violently without noise.
This was awful. I had never been so tried in all my life before. I jumped up and approaching her sat by her side, not daring to lay a hand upon the girl, whom I felt I did not dare to touch with my polluted fingers.
For fully five minutes we stayed thus, until Fanny, raising her face, all wet with tears, and once more flushed, turned her streaming eyes upon me, and staggering forward fell into my arms. I caught her in them. . I kissed that face all lovely still though quivering with the devouring pain she felt, and Fanny let me do so, let me press her to my bosom, let me draw her towards my chair, and let me take her into my lap, where I held her tenderly lying against me, whilst she still weeped and sobbed.
Suddenly she rose into a more upright position, and looking at me, said, “Why don’t you speak to me?
You are cuing too! What are you crying for?”
“Because, Fanny darling, I can’t help it! I can’t see you, the girl I love, in such dreadful grief and not feel sorry.”
“I am a fool for coming,” she said. “Let me go! I’ll never, never, never, speak to you again!”
“Stay!” I cried, holding her. “Stay Fannie! You have heard only one side of the story. It is only fair to me to hear mine. I swear to you that I never had the remotest idea of being unfaithful to you, and that it was not until I was actually in Amy’s cunt that I knew it was not you whom I was fucking.”
Fanny loved me. That is the only explanation of the patience with which she heard me. In her heart, that heart so dreadfully wounded, she wished to find the palliation of my sin. Had her pride only been wounded, she would never, or could, have forgiven me, but love covers a multitude of sins, and Fanny heard my story, not only with patience, but with eagerness. .
With passions as strong as mine, with a cunt as susceptible of pleasure as my prick, she could understand me, when I said that the first fuck with Amy over, I felt it impossible to tear myself away from a cunt so fascinating, so blooming as that between Amy’s thighs; and as I proceeded and told my story, in such a way as to make it more than evident that, much as I appreciated her sister’s cunt, I did not love Amy, whereas my whole soul was bound up in her, she at last threw her arms round my neck and kissed me, and then wept again, but without that violence which was all the more dreadful because subdued, which marked the first outbreak of her passion. For hours we sat thus talking. Fanny quite understood her position. She loved me too much to be able to carry out her passionately expressed threat never to speak to me again, yet it was but too evident that she must consent to share—me with Amy at once, and with Mabel later on. She herself remembered what she had said about concubines and, with a sorrowful smile, she congratulated me on having now three really pretty ladies of my harem. As she grew more cheerful, so did I, and demurring at last on an act, I undid the lace of her bodice and uncovered her lovely breasts, which I once more devoured with my lips, in a manner so full of passion that the poor girl all but fainted from excess of emotion. Snatching the lovely bubbies from my eager lips, she put her mouth to mine and beginning with the top button of my trousers she undid them all, one by one, until, reaching the last, she inserted her little hand and, pulling up my shirt, took possession of my stiff and impudent prick, which looked her boldly and unblushingly in the face.
“Yes,” she cried, “it is not my Charlie, but you who are the traitor. Oh! you villain!”
Hard words, but Oh! what soft caresses. I am afraid my prick, like Galileo, paid no attention to her speech, but was too excited for that dearest little cunt, which he had been the first to open. Happy reconciliation. Fanny in a few moments more stood in her naked beauty before me, and in another moment had all but forgotten the agonies of the recent hours in the convulsions of the delirious pleasures I presented.
Sugdaya awoke us. That lovely traitress was delighted to find us naked in bed together. Fanny would have quarreled with her, but she had listened to me and had swallowed Sugdaya with her other inevitable griefs, and our last luscious fuck took place under the eyes of that lovely native girl, and born procuress, who was to be so useful to me in finding me sweet cunts, besides her own, during the next three or four years.
Like Amy, Fanny laughed the cobra to scorn. She saw it in the bottle, but, though she at once believed my story, she only said that the fact of my having killed it, and not of its having killed me, showed that it was intended that I should fuck Amy, otherwise had I been bitten and died, it would have shown that I had been rudely punished. All the same she said it would be better if in future I were to come over to her house, as now, of course, Amy would not be in the way.
Now reader, did you think for one moment that things could have turned out so, did not our beloved Goddess, Venus, stand on my side? I saw her divine and beneficent hand in every turn of our amatory purvey, and never had she a more ardent priest than me. For I did my utmost never to lose a chance of my making her holy alters between my lovely “concubines’“ thighs smoke with the incense of my offerings.
Oh! those exquisite nights! Those revels when like a God of olden times I sported with my naked nymphs, passing from between the arms of one to between the thighs of the other, the change from one cunt to the second gave me fresh life and greater strength! There was certainly an increase of voluptuous pleasure and delight, but alas! the purity and depth of love which had existed between Fanny and me suffered. We never again were, or could be, to one another what we had been.
And now it remains but for me to show you how, at last I filled up the cup of Mabel’s joy, by fucking her, and then I will close the history of my association with those three beautiful and delicious Selwyn cunts.
Neither Fanny nor Amy seemed to be in the least degree anxious that I should fuck Mabel. This was natural enough so far as Fanny was concerned, but Amy, as my dear reader may remember, had made it a sine qui non that Mabel was to have her share of my prick and balls. Experience, however, began to teach her that a whole loaf is better than a half a one, and a half loaf better than the third of one. So I never heard any more from her of the obligations I was under to fuck Mabel. But it was impossible to prevent Mabel’s knowing of my nightly visits to her father’s bungalow, and what went on there in consequence, and I have little doubt she often witnessed scenes of joy, in which she burned to’ play her part, from behind the purdah. Besides, I am certain that Sugdaya, who felt no scruples, incited her to claim her share, and this is how she got it.
One lovely day in December, this is in the delightful cold weather, I was preparing to go out to pay some visits, (among others to our new Padre’s wife, Mrs. Paul, of whom much more will be told in my third series), when I saw Mrs. Soubratie hurrying up from the servants’ house. I guessed that the Colonel must have come over for a morning fuck, and, as I wanted to see him, I thought I would wait until he had taken his pleasure, and then I would do so. Although it was an understood thing between us that he was at liberty to fuck Mrs. Soubratie whenever he liked in my house, yet as a rule we did not meet on those occasions, so that unless I actually saw him between her thighs, or saw Mrs. Soubratie pass my door, I rarely knew the exact moment these pleasant meetings were taking place.
I waited therefore seated in my chair. I had not been sitting more than a minute when Mabel appeared, bursting with laughter, which it took all her efforts to prevent exploding out loudly. Coming on tip-toe to me she whispered:
“Oh! Captain Devereaux! Come here! Come here!”
I rose. She took my hand, and leading me into my bed room she took me to the door, in which was a window covered with a thin muslin blind, looking into the room, and on to the bed, on which the Colonel always fucked Mrs. Soubratie. There of course, I saw, as did Mabel, the Colonel about half way through a nice, fat fuck, and Mabel, delighted beyond description, feasted her eyes on her father’s splendid prick, passing, in measured cadence, in and out of, up and down, the brown cunt of Mrs. Soubratie. The sight was too voluptuous, especially as Mabel was there, not to effect me greatly, and I unbuttoned my trousers, and put my now burning prick into that delighted girl’s burning hand, whilst I raised her petticoats and caressed the little cunt, now well covered with curly locks, which immediately responded to my caresses, with such an overflow that is surprised me. Still attracted powerfully by seeing her father’s glistening member disappearing and reappearing, as he fucked Mrs. Soubratie in his solid fashion, and his balls, those huge balls, balancing as they swung backwards and forwards, Mabel quietly moved her hand up and down my prick, until a sudden thrill of pleasure round its collar warned me, that if she continued so doing I should spend, all the more also, because of sympathy, the Colonel being now at the vigorous short digs, would come to the assistance of Mabel’s hand. I therefore kept her hand quiet, until the Colonel having fini
shed, and Mrs. Soubratie having made her salaam and left the room, the show had come to an end.
“Well! Mabel!” said I, When the Colonel had walked off with that jaunty side step he always adopted after a good fuck, “You came in the very nick of time to see that!”
“Yes!” said she, looking at my prick, and gently feeling my balls, which she had foraged for and got out, “Sugdaya told me I should see something, if I came over here now. I thought she meant this,” she continued, looking up at me with a smile, “but I fancy she must have meant that I should see Papa with Mrs. Soubratie.”
“She may have meant both, Mabel dear! But take care, child! You will make me spend if you move your hand like that!”
“Oh! What fun that would be! Let me.? Do! Captain Devereaux. I should so like to see it!”
“Well!” said I, shivering with pleasure, “all right, dear, but let me take off my trousers first, or they will be spoilt.”
I saw that the time had come. This was Mabel’s hour and I shut my bedroom door and bolted it.
“Now Mabel! Take off your frock, and stays, and stockings, and we will go to bed together.”
“Oh no!”
“Oh yes!”
“Oh, how delightful! Oh, you good, good, good Captain Devereaux!” she cried in an ecstasy of joy, “but let us go regularly to bed and take off all our clothes.”
“Very well!” said I, laughing, and in another couple of minutes we were both as naked as we were born. Mabel was very pretty. Like Fanny and Amy, she had a very nice, pure, even white skin. Her limbs still required a little more flesh to give them all the roundness that is so desirable, but her little bubbies were really charming, and her plump motte had quite as much hair on it as Fanny’s. If her nudity charmed me, my nakedness pleased her immensely, though she had often enough handled my prick and balls, she said this was the first time she had ever really seen them.
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