by AnonYMous
What were his thoughts as he stood there watching another man finger his wife's genitals while she, in an apparently half drunken but ardent frenzy, caressed and manipulated his sexual organ?
Only he could have told.
Trembling with anticipation I prepared for the final culminating gesture.
Gripping Mr. Tucker's thing firmly, I began to jiggle it violently, and exclaimed with passionate abandon:
"Oh, George! I can't wait a second longer! Quick! Fuck me!"
Jumping from his knees, I tore off my panties, and without so much as a glance toward my petrified husband, I threw myself on the floor in front of Mr. Tucker and opened my legs widely.
"Sure, I'll fuck you, girlie?" he answered thickly and without even waiting to remove his trousers, he stumbled toward me and fell upon his knees between my outstretched legs. I felt his thing punching clumsily against me and I took the thumping jerking thing in my hand and put the head in the right place. I feared that because of its size it was going to hurt me dreadfully and steeled myself for the ordeal. But Nature appears to have provided for such eventualities, imparting to the female a peculiar elasticity, and almost before I realized it the whole thing was inside.
I sensed an extreme tightness, my flesh was expanding to the limit of its elastic capacity, but there was no pain. And the next instant, I felt it working back and forth.
Nothing now remained, except to stage an exhibition, such as would leave no doubt in my husband's mind that I ws enjoying sexual pleasure with this man greater than any I had ever experienced with him. Toward this end, I kicked up my legs, moaned, sighed, shivered, wriggled, and undulated my hips with simulated ardor, meanwhile keeping up a series of excited exhortations and exclamations such as: "Oh it's good! … Push harder, George! … Oh, stick it clear in! … Like that! … Oh, how delicious! … Further in! … Clear in! … Harder! … Harder! …"
My cries and exclamations excited the man to an insane frenzy, and soon his distended eyes and gasping breath told me that the end was not far off. Abruptly, he slipped his hands under my bottom, and raising me from the floor, almost transfixed me with the last, fulminating thrusts of his rigid weapon.
A hot, wet stream suddenly flooded my insides. It was ejected with such force that I felt each distinct spurt as it struck my womb. Some of the burning stuff escaped, and ran down between my thighs.
I hadn't intended to – I didn't want to, but I couldn't help it. I came, too. Involuntarily, I threw my legs up and clamped them around his body in a vise-like grip. And the last exclamations I uttered were genuine instead of faked.
When it was finished, he sank down upon me almost crushing me with his heavy body.
I twisted out from underneath him and called to Vernon to bring me a towel. He made no move to obey and I repeated the command imperiously. It was a final, artistic touch! He hesitated a moment in dazed uncertainty, then turned and left the room. He came back with a towel in his hand and flung it on the floor near me. Deliberately, before his eyes I wiped from between my legs the exterior traces of his friend's orgastic prowess, and tossed the towel back to him. He hurled it aside, and with a venemous glance at Mr. Tucker who was now in a drunken stupor, snarled:
"You damned little whore!"
I got up, and went into the bathroom where I had already prepared, and had waiting, a sanitary preparation.
When I came out, Mr. Tucker was still lying on the floor, where he had fallen. His pants were open, and his thing, although weirdly diminished in size, was still wet and dripping.
Without a word and without further pretense of intoxication, I put on my panties, adjusted my brassiere and replaced the waist and dress I had removed. Going to the bedroom, I quickly gathered up such articles of toilet as remained unpacked and swept them into a small grip. I put on my hat and coat, and with grip and suitcase, left the room.
When Vernon saw me fully dressed, and with hand luggage, his mouth fell open. For a moment he was speechless. Then he stammered:
"Why … where are you going, Eedy?"
"I'm leaving you, Vernon, but you'll still have your friend Mr. Tucker to look out for you."
"But, Eedy … I don't…"
Before he concluded the sentence the door was closed behind me and I had walked out of his life forever.
I've never seen him since and that's all there is to tell.
The dramatic effect of Edyth's story wsa highly intensified by the fact that she is naturally very modest, even bashful – and the scarlet flame which lit her cheeks as certain portions of the narrative obliged her to use obscene words and phrases betrayed the effort it was costing her to repeat the lurid tale.
In her sexual expansions she was the embodiment of passionate fervor. But both before and after the act, an innate modesty cloaked her words and actions. She was easily embarrassed, and blushed furiously at anything savoring naughtiness, and her reluctance and ingenuous confusion at being seen naked was something delicious to behold. I had seen so much boldness and had been so accustomed to having mere nudity taken quite for granted, that her blushing bashfulness was really a delightful contrast. I entertained myself by teasing her with deliberate intention of provoking blushes, begging her to let me see her naked or watch her while she was bathing, enticing to take curious and unusual postures in intercourse, asking her to tell me how she felt, and how many times she had "come" etc., all of which threw her into the greatest confusion.
I have said that Edyth had no vices or eccentricities. She had, however, one passionate hobby, and one peculiar physical characteristic.
The physical peculiarity to which I have referred was something of a more intimate nature. She was one of those extremely rare females whom Mother Nature endows with what I, not knowing the scientific term, would call a tit shaped clitoris. In my entire experience I have only encountered three women and one of these was a juvenile, to whom reference has already been made in Chapter III of this biography.
Edyth's clitoris, under the influence of erotic stimulation, stiffened out in rigid erection, some three-eighths of an inch or more, and while so erected, the slightest touch upon it ws sufficient to throw her into wild frenzy. As orgasm approached, she lost all control of herself and gave such vociferous expression to her feelings as I had never listened to before. Warnings to the effect that she would surely be overheard by occupants of adjoining apartments had no effect whatsoever. In her erotic frenzy nothing existed at the moment but she and I. Her demonstrations heightened my own excitation, but they also embarrassed me, for I knew that they could, in the stillness of the night, be heard all through the building.
Eventually, I struck on the idea of placing my hand over her mouth before she reached orgasm. The first time I did this she sputtered and choked, and indignantly accused me of trying to strangle her, but I accustomed her to the system. She said it "spoiled" her pleasure, and I disliked to do it, but I didn't relish the idea of providing the neighbors with free entertainment nightly and I had observed sly smiles on their faces when we passed them in the halls.
Edyth's naïve modesty and simplicity charmed and intrigued me. With the exception of the drama she had enacted for the purpose of revenging herself on her husband, her sexual experiences had been confined to the most conservative of conjugal expansions. From what she told me I gathered that her husband had not been of a very ardent disposition or else was weak sexually.
"It always took him a long time for his thing to get stiff enough to put in!" she confided, with a blush.
Their sexual unions had been limited to once a week or less and it was wit surprise she found that I could accommodate her every night or, when so inclined, two or three times. Her disappointing married life and the period of complete abstinence which followed it had brought her to a condition in which she was a veritable treasure house of hoarded emotions, and it was exactly at this propitious moment that I, to my good fortune, entered her life.
Her ideas as to what was proper were quaint in the extreme. Inte
rcourse was supposed to be indulged in only at night, and under cover of darkness. To leave the light on, or in fact, to even be seen naked, was immodest. The only proper position was that in which the woman lies on her back, with the man on top. Mutual handling, or caressing genital organs was very naughty, and as for the refinements and perversions of love to which she had heard allusions and of whose exact nature she had but vague ideas, they were not even to be discussed except in whispers.
I took a cynical and wicked delight in exploding the innocent superstitions as fast as they came to my notice and diverted myself immensely by inciting, with my teasing and wheedling, certain conflicts between her naturally voluptuous disposition and this quaint modesty.
"Edyth, darling," I pleaded coaxingly, as prior to retiring for the night she slipped on her nightgown before removing her under garments, "why don't you want me to see you naked? You know I love to … but you always have something on, just to deprive me of the pleasure."
"Gilbert! You've seen me naked often enough!"
"Why, darling, you know I haven't seen you naked half a dozen times. You've got the prettiest form of any girl I ever saw," I would add cunningly, "I don't see why you want to keep it hidden from me."
Such a plea, of course, was irresistible.
"Well, for heaven's sake! I suppose you'll keep on teasing until I take off my nightgown!"
And off it came, while she stood blushing before me a moment.
"Come closer, darling."
When she came within arm's reach, I twined my fingers in the cluster of silky brown curls at the apex of her legs.
"I had a suspicion about what part of my form you wanted to see!"
When I learned that intercourse was supposed to be enjoyed only at night under cover of darkness I immediately developed an insatiable desire for daylight gratification.
"Edyth," I whispered one day as I took her on my knees after lunch, "I want to do it so bad I just can't wait until night. Just feel this!"
"But I'm all dressed!" she exclaimed in a suffocated voice.
"All you have to do is just slip off your panties!"
A bit of coaxing, liberally interspersed with kisses, and as usual I won my point. With reddened cheeks, she unfastened the little silken garment and lay down on the sofa.
"Darling, lie face down this time. It gives me the nicest feeling to have your bottom rubbing against me!"
"Gilbert!" she protested, in shocked indignation.
In this, as always, she yielded after the requisite coaxing, turning over on her stomach.
I raised her dress, exposing the firm beautiful hemispheres, and placed myself above her with my knees between her legs. Slipping one hand down the front of her bodice over one of her breasts, I inserted the other one under her abdomen and placed my finger on her clitoris. Her bottom quivered and vibrated against my stomach, in instantaneous response to the caress.
The opportunity to let her make all the racket she wanted to was a good one, for it was midday and the noise of the traffic in the street below was such to lessen the probability of being overheard. Pressing my cock into her as far as it would go, I began to titillate her clitoris with my finger. And, as I had anticipated, the show began.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she shrieked. "Oh, that's good! It's wonderful! Oh! Gilbert, dearest, darling. Oh! Oh! Oh!"
For ten of fifteen minutes I kept her squealing and kicking, under the double provocation of a cock inside and a finger outside, and then unable to no longer resist the contagious excitation my own organ released itself.
"Gilbert, did I make much noise?" she asked guiltily after it was all over and we had arranged our clothing.
"If there was anyone closer than Trafalgar Square who didn't hear you, I'll be surprised, darling."
"Oh!" she gasped, horrified. "Why didn't you put your hand over my mouth?"
"You know where both my hands were, dear. Tell me, honey, did it feel nice? Do you like it that way? How many times did you come?"
"Gilbert! I don't want to talk about it!"
"Why not, darling?"
"Gilbert, will you please hush up?"
The extreme sensitiveness of her clitoris and its peculiar erectile qualities set me to speculating, almost involuntarily, as to what the effect of a warm tongue on it would be. Out of respect to her, I had refrained from even tentative explorations in the way of "Frenching" but chance brought up the subject one night.
We were in bed, and Edyth was lying cuddled up by me. She was in a talkative mood. She had asked me a number of questions about Paris, and my experiences there, to which I gave discreet replies, when snuggling up closer to me, she said:
"Gilbert, there's something I want to ask you about…" she hesitated a moment, and continued in a low voice: "A woman told me, but I don't know whether it's really true. Do those French girls really let men do it to them in the mouth?… And do men do it to them with their tongues too?"
When I was able to speak with composure, I replied:
"Well, darling, the French girls haven't any exclusive patents on it! I guess women of all nationalities take it that way sometimes, if they like a man well enough. And the same thing applies to men."
"Gilbert! Did you ever do that to a woman with your tongue?"
"Who? Me? Why, no, darling," I answered discreetly, "I never met a woman I cared for well enough to do that. That is, until I met you. I'd do it that way for you in a minute, if you wanted it."
"Why, Gilbert! That's terrible!"
"Why is it terrible, honey?"
"It's nasty!"
"That depends on the woman. You're not nasty. You spend half your time in the bath tub. You're as clean and sweet down there as a newly budded rose."
"I don't mean that way! I mean, it's indecent!"
"Well, darling, " I lied hypocritically. "I always thought so, too, until I met you. Someway, that sort of thing makes it seem different. You're so fresh and sweet I'd just as soon put my lips on this (and I placed my hand on it) as I would on your cheek!"
She remained silent for a few moments, digesting what I had said, and I whispered insinuatingly:
"They say it feels wonderful to a woman, better than any other way. Do you want me to do it to you once that way, just to see?"
"Gilbert! Hush up1"
"Just feel how this little thing is swelling up! I'll just bet it would feel like a nice kiss if its mama didn't object!"
Her limbs trembled convulsively and the "little thing" to which I referred was standing up and pulsing violently.
"Gilbert! … If you don't hush up I swear I'll get up and sleep on the lounge! Take your hand away from there!"
"All right, darling!"
the next day, while leaving a store in which I had purchased some little gifts for her my attention was attracted to a beautiful coat on display in the window. It was an exquisite garment of genuine ermine, and a price tag announced that it was on sale at the specially reduced price of forty pounds. Business had been good and I ws tempted to buy the coat for Edyth. I turned and started back into the store but as I did so it occurred to me that perhaps it would be advisable to get her opinion on it before making the rather costly purchase.
After we had dined that night I suggested a walk. Window shopping was one of her favorite diversions and she agreed with alacrity. A bit later we were gazing into shop windows at finery temptingly displayed, and without disclosing my purpose, I steered her around, until we were in front of the store where the coat was on display.
"Look at that coat, Edyth!" I exclaimed, "Isn't it a beauty?"
She gazed at it rapt eyed, and drew in a deep breath.
"Oh! Isn't it lovely! And look, Gilbert, only forty pounds!"
She feasted her eyes on it, and as she reluctantly turned away, I said carefully:
"Well, honey, we'll be rich some day, and you'll have a coat like that."
It was my intention to surprise her with it the next day.
We returned to our apartment and while I sat i
n the library reading the evening paper, Edyth undressed, and soon I heard her splashing in the bath tub. When she finished bathing she came into the room where I was sitting with a dressing gown draped about her and sat down. She seemed to be preoccupied, and was silent until I laid down my paper. As I did so, she remarked pensively:
"I sure would like to have that coat we saw."
"Yes, the coat is a beauty. Looks like it was just made for you."
"It's a bargain, too. Only forty pounds."
"We'll be able to buy coats like that before long if business continues to improve."
"I've got ten pounds saved up now. I believe I could save the rest in three or four months."
"I'm afraid the coat will be sold long before that, honey."
I got up, and standing behind her chair, tilted her face upward, and kissed her lips. As I did so, the dressing gown fell open sufficiently to disclose a pair of luscious white bubbies, free for once, of their customary harness. And, as pretty breasts always have done, and always will, they turned my thoughts to subjects other than coats.
More with intention of teasing her than seriously and without premeditation, I said as my hands closed over the snowy globes:
"Honey, you know we're not exactly rich, but I'll make you a proposition. Let me do that to you once, and I'll buy you the coat!'
she looked at me uncomprehendingly.
"Do what?" she asked.
"You know … what we were talking about last night."
She gazed at me wide eyed for a moment and then as she recollected the subject of our conversation of the previous evening and comprehended what I meant, she turned crimson and exclaimed:
"Gilbert! Stop talking about those indecent French tricks!"
"You'd look marvelous in that coat."