by Frank Harris
“I won't promise,” she said, “but I want to hear what you saw.”
“You have a little back mole there,” I went on, touching the right side of her hip, “and I want to see it, it's so cute!”
“I haven't,” she cried.
“Look when you undress tonight and you'll see I'm right.”
After lunch we were seated in the shade when she suddenly said: “You're right: there is a mole. I couldn't wait until tonight, so I looked. But how did you dream so exactly? That puzzles me.”
“Great affection,” I began as if musing, “has strange powers. I saw you, your luscious full breasts and your figure, all of it, every hair as clearly as if you were undressed before me now. Someday you'll let me see you, won't you?”
“I don't know,” she replied. “You're a strange man, “but you interest me greatly. Why do you want to see me?”
“Your beauty intrigues me; surely you know that.” How could I tell her that I wanted to fuck her, that I wanted to wedge my stiff rod in her virgin slit?
“Men are funny creatures,” she began. “If I could dream like you do, I'd want to see your heart, to know whether you really care for me. I don't think the body is important.”
“Love is not born full-grown,” I replied. “It has to be won!”
“How? Tell me how!” she cried.
“Chiefly by giving of yourself,” I cleverly answered. And so the talk went on.
Next morning, as she came from the bath, I met her as before. When she smiled at me I drew her resolutely into my cabin and closed the door. “Show me,” I said, “please.” I drew her bathrobe from her neck. Luckily it slipped from her hand and fell right open.
I had one good look at her tits and muff, but Winnie at once pulled it together protesting, “That's unkind. I don't like that. Please let me go.” She spoke angrily so I opened the door with a mumbled apology and let her go, a little disappointed.
Five minutes later the stewardess knocked at my door and I gave her another sovereign almost mechanically.
“Thank you, sir, many thanks,” she said. “Might I say something?” she asked.
“Certainly,” I replied. “What is it?”
“Those young girls,” she went on, “they give themselves airs. They know nothing really. Take my advice, sir, leave Miss Winnie alone for a day or two; let her see you with Ethel Dodge of the second cabin, and she'll soon repent and change. Nothing like a bit of jealousy to make a girl kind,” she smiled. “Miss Winnie there thinks you belong to her and must do whatever she wishes. Even if she protests your, ah, special attentions,” she emphasized, “it's all part of her game. Once she sees you like another girl and the other likes you, she'll alter her tune, believe me.”
“I believe you,” I said, “but when can I see Miss Dodge?”
“Tomorrow, sir,” she said. “I've given her a bath and told her you were paying and she wants to thank you. She has a prettier figure than Miss Wilson if I'm a judge, even fuller and rounder; but you can see for yourself, if you like. I'll tap at your door tomorrow early; the knothole is still there,” she laughed.
“You are a wonder,” I said. “All right then, I'll expect you about eight tomorrow morning and I'll tell you what I think of Miss Dodge.”
“Let her come to your cabin afterwards, to thank you,” said the cunning stewardess, “and let Miss Wilson hear you together. I'll give her a hint that she'll lose you if she doesn't take care. I guarantee you'll have no more trouble.”
“You are a magician,” I applauded her. “Conduct the campaign as you think best and take this for your pains.” I gave her a five pound note.
“Thank you, sir, thank you,” she cried.
“That's only the beginning,” I said. “If you succeed, well, we've a few more days of generous 'thank-yous' to come.”
“You'll have 'em both, sir, trust me. You'll be plowing those fields before you think on it.” And she vanished, smiling, through the door.
The next morning I saw Ethel Dodge through the knothole. She was slim and shapely with wide breasts, pert nipples, flaring hips, and a thick mossing of dark hair on her mount. She was so attractive that I wanted her to come to my cabin as she came from the bath. The stewardess introduced me and Ethel seemed willing to be friends. Yes, she was pretty and well-made, but not as lovely, or as young as Winnie. She needed money, however, as she was going to be married. She confessed at once that she loved love and was not averse to earning moneyin whatever manneron her voyage. While we were talking, I heard the stewardess tap lightly on the door; whoever was passing must have heard us laugh. Ethel plainly told me she was at my service for she liked me greatly.
“No nonsense about you, that's what I like,” she added.
When I met Winnie on deck half an hour later, she was very cold to me, so I merely bowed and smiled and passed on. A little later, while I was pacing the deck, she stopped me.
“I suppose you're proud of your new conquest?” she huffed.
“No,” I replied, “I've made no conquest new or old.”
“Yet I heard you both laughing in your room as I passed,” she replied.
“Possibly,” I said, “but that proves nothing.”
“You probably took off her bathrobe and fondled her breasts andand" Winnie said passionately.
“I didn't even want to,” I answered.
“I wish I could believe that,” she cried with intense feeling in voice and looks. As luck would have it, we had reached the forecastle and were clean out of sight and hearing of the rest of the passengers. I put my arm around her waist, drew her to me strongly and kissed her lips. While my mouth was on hers, her arms went around my neck and she murmured, “Then you do love me best?”
“You alone,” I whispered passionately. “Promise that you'll come tomorrow morning and you'll find me waiting, longing for you.”
“I'll come,” she said, all her soul in her eyes. “You don't know how I suffered this morning when I heard your two voices and that stewardess had just told me how Miss what's her name was after you. Oh, Frank, be good to me! I love you more than I can say, you dear!” and our lips clung together in a long, long kiss.
The next morning I was at the knothole when Winnie was bathing and I noticed that she was very reserved with the stewardess. I augured happiness from her reserve. I therefore hastened back to my cabin and of course met her at the door. I drew her over to my bed and without a word took off her bathrobe. I saw at once she was very nervous and afraid, so I lay down with her after covering us both with the quilt and began to kiss her and talk just to reassure her. When I saw that I had succeeded, I let my hands stray. Then I began kissing her breasts while praising their beauty and soon my right hand began caressing her pussy. Even this first time she was far more responsive than I had dared to hope, for she thrust her hips up against the pressure exerted by the hand against her mount. But when in a moment she clung to me kissing me, I said: “You must fear nothing that I do. I wouldn't think of giving pain or putting you in any danger; just trust me and you'll find I'll lead you from delight to ecstasy.”
I pushed up the quilt and revealed her naked body. It was exquisite, and I could feel my manhood stirring against my leg at the sight of her heaving breasts, engorged nipple buds, and lightly mossed mount.
I began kissing her, commencing at the graceful curve of her neck and slowly progressing downward. I lingered over her tits, swirling my tongue around the turgid peaks and sweeping under the fullness of the ripening globes. I took each nipple in turn into my mouth, teasing the tender flesh and worrying it as a dog would a bone. The buds rose under my ministrations, matching the rise of my pulsating cock.
I continued my downward trek, lashing her belly with wet strokes, pausing at the softness of her rounded hips. My hands found her breasts as I hovered above her cunt. I lingered for just a moment to increase the suspense, pinning her with my eyes as I was about to with my tongue. She watched me with rapt, lustful interest, then closed her eyes and gasped as
I lowered myself to her slit. I stiffened my tongue and plunged it inside her, mimicking what I wished to do with my prick.
She began to writhe with pleasure, pushing her hips up against my face, urging me to penetrate her more deeply, trying to pull me into her center of pleasure. I was happy to oblige and stretched my tongue to the utmost, scouring the conch-like softness of her inner pussy lips, then flicking in and out of her in a quick fucking motion. She moaned and ran her fingers through my hair as I squeezed her tits and pinched her nipples between my fingers. I found her clit and laved it thoroughly until it stood up quivering.
By now Winnie was fairly crying out for me to finish her. Her taut young body trembled all over as she felt waves of delight rolling over her. My face mashed into her pussy, I continued to lick her, alternating my attentions to her love bud with the stabbing movements that buried my tongue inside her. She began to jerk and undulate beneath me as she whimpered about the flood that was being released in her belly. A moment later she inundated my tongue and lips with the pearly nectar of her passion.
“Well,” I said taking her in my arms, “are you content to trust me now?”
She nodded while her great brown eyes thanked me. “But, but”
“But what?” I asked.
“Does doing that give you pleasure?” she replied.
“You darling,” I cried, “how like you to want to give me delight. That's for a later lesson,” I went on, “when you are as sure of me as of yourself.”
“You don't need to wait,” she said saucily. “I'm more than sure that I have the dearest, best lover in the world.”
“Do you know how long we've been here?” I smiled. “It's after ten and your mother may come to look in on you.”
“Really?” she cried. “Oh, I must get up.” As she rose I kissed the mole that had helped me to such delight. A moment later she had gone and I began to dress.
The stewardess came in that evening for her reward and I gave her another note and talked to her of her protege, Miss Ethel. She liked me sincerely, it appeared, and was quite willing to be my lover. I found the stewardess very wise indeed and eager to help me in every way. We had a long talk and at the end she told me more of India and the girls of that country than I could have learned in a hundred books.
“If you like young girls, sir,” she began, “India is the happy hunting ground for you. They are nearly all married by adolescence. Of course, it's really a terrible place for girls. They are often married before they are women, and the midwives who attend them in confinement are a fearful bunch, dirty and cruel and ignorant.
“Then, you know, when the husband of fifty or sixty dies, there is nothing for the widowed girl to do but become a prostitute to support herself.” She smiled and winked at me. “Of course, you'll have to have me with you. I know Bombay and the bazaar like the back of my hand. I can get you whatever you want and I'll take care there are no evil consequences. You can rely on me.”
“I do,” I replied sincerely. “I regard it as a great piece of luck to have met you.
“I have done nothing yet,” she resumed, “but in Bombay I can be of the greatest service to you.” On this understanding we parted for the moment.
That night Winnie came to my cabin.
“I mustn't stay long,” she began, “Mother might find out.”
“Just do as you wish,” I replied, taking her in my arms and kissing her. “We can always have our hour in the morning,” and I lifted her into the bed. How shall I describe her! Let my reader think of a classical statue in warm flesh and blood. After kissing her mouth and then her neck and breasts, I moved down to the junction of her thighs and soon found that she responded far more passionately than the first time I'd licked that mossy grotto. I repeated the previous performance, wetting her thoroughly around her luscious mount and lathering her pink little slit until the nub of her clit was upstanding and begging for further attention. I caught it between my teeth and pulled on it gently while Winnie gasped and moaned. My fingers separated the folds of her labia and I dove inside with my tongue, tantalizing her again with insistent stabbing strokes. I kept on kissing for perhaps a quarter of an hour till she began to shake convulsively and tried to lift my head. At once I got up and went to her mouth, but could not help seeing on the way that her taut little cunt was now quite open, round and red.
“Take me,” she said, “I want to make you enjoy as I do; I want us to go mad together.”
At once I put my cock in her hand and she directed it to her entrance. “If it hurts too much,” I said, “stop me; I can't bear to give you pain.”
And indeed this has been a characteristic of mine during practically all my life; being extremely forceful in love is almost unthinkable to me. I always prefer to leave a good deal to the initiative of the woman. If she loves you, she will endure a good deal of suffering to give you pleasure.
I squirmed about, focusing on my delightful target as I had dreamed I would these many nights. I thrust at first a bit high, then a bit low, until I felt myself welcomed by the widening folds of moist flesh like the bud of a flower opening to the penetrating rays of the sun.
I edged the head of my meatpole slowly inside the tight slit, pausing to fully enjoy the tingling sensations that began to course through my body. I could tell by her moans and cries that Winnie experienced much the same thing as I edged my rod into that resisting channel. I was only part way inside her when I met her virgin barrier. Though I abhorred the thought of causing this voluptuous maiden any pain whatsoever, I knew the moment for force had come. My cock felt rock hard and irresistible as I reared back at the hips and thrust forward. I rammed against her hymen, pulled back and repeated the motion. Much to my surprise, after flinching during my initial plunge, Winnie moved forward to meet my thrust. Our combined action swept away any impediment and, with a cry of joy from both our lips, I was in her to the hilt. It was as I had envisioned it, tight and grasping and so very warm and inviting. The head of my cock seemed alive with sensation as I began to fuck her.
I thrust slowly and gently as I could, though my brave lover seemed to take little notice of the pain. She seemed a natural for this game and wrapped her legs around my back so as to draw me more deeply inside her moistening canal.
“Don't be afraid to be too rough,” she whispered.
That was the only invitation I needed; I proceeded to explore her innermost recesses with a frenzied determination that had our bellies slapping together and my balls tickling her bottom. I fucked her long and hard, rotating my hips so as to widen her while I continued to plunge in and out of her no-longer-virgin pussy. She seemed to enjoy it most of all when I pulled out of her almost to the tip of the head, then rammed into her as though the moment of ultimate pleasure would be denied me. Of course, in such a tight sheathe, it would not have been denied anyone in a short period of time. I was no exception. I already could feel my shaft and head swelling to the point of bursting from the exquisite stimulation of her contracting pussy walls.
In a few moments we were both bathed in exquisite mutual delight.
“Do you love me?” was her first question. “Am I a good lover?”
“You are a divine mistress and lover,” I said. “You are much more passionate than I had imagined.”
After another bout or two of kissing and caressing Winnie resolved to get back to her room. I went with her till she sent me back with an imperious dismissal.
In my bed I relived every moment, again and again, dwelt on every incident, every word and movement of Winnie's, until suddenly I saw the light in the port and knew it was morning. Then I fell into a deep sleep and awoke about eight and forthwith thought of the bath and the knothole. Alas! Winnie was not there nor was the stewardess for the moment. However, I knew I would see the stewardess some time in the afternoon and I wanted another talk, for she interested me and I had no idea yet how she had acquired her extraordinary knowledge of India.
That afternoon I found that Mrs. Redfern, the steward
ess, was not unwilling to talk of her past experiences. She had lived ten years in Bombay as the wife of a noncommissioned officer who later got a post under the government. After her husband died, she did some nursing and so grew to know Indian conditions from the inside. She told me that the life of most of the girl-wives was appalling; three out of every six died in their first pregnancy through the unsanitary conditions and fearful dirt of the midwives. The children of these girls were almost invariably undersized weaklings. She had hardly ever met a wife of some years standing who was not diseased. She assured me, however, that she could easily find a young widow who was perfectly well and would please the most fastidious gentleman. I told her I would take her as my guide and guardian.
Once or twice she came back to her belief that Ethel would be a very attractive mistress. I must make a confession. Since I had enjoyed Winnie and the novelty was worn off, I often found myself desiring Ethel's more opulent beauty. What devil is it in men that makes them desire the untried? I cared for Winnie, esteemed her more than I could ever esteem Ethel, knew that she was incomparably prettier, and yet I commenced to desire Ethel in spite of all reason. I wanted to crush her generous tits with my hands, and sample the pleasures of what would undoubtedly be a comfortable and practiced pussy.
That same evening, the charming and providential Mrs. Redfern caught me in my cabin and proposed that Ethel should come to me that night.
“Not in this cabin,” I said, thinking Winnie might seek my company here.
“I'll put her two doors away, in number 17,” she replied, “and if you wish to visit her, the door will not be locked against you.”
I laughed and thanked her, but asked her to put Ethel off for a night or so, then gave her another gold tip and went my way.
In my cabin late that evening I hesitated. If Winnie had come I'd have been content. Why didn't she? I could not guess, but I began to want more and more the heavier hips, fuller breasts, and more luscious mouth of Ethel.