The girl concentrated on the first guard, while her hand rested lightly on the dagger sheath.
'Come on, come on,' she pleaded. 'Stuff me as you said you would. Kill me, shove it in further, further.'
Goaded on, loins alight with the thrill of her coarse words, the guard stuffed and stuffed. His movements grew faster and faster until his body seemed out of control and his face was furrowed all over, his neck stretched and taut with veins standing out on it as if he were about to burst at any moment.
'Oh how wonderful! You're so thick and filling me! I can't stand it! Go on thrust your knob home.'
The girl's wild, coarse words assailed his ear, sharpening his passion, pointing it to a razor edge until it seemed that razor edges were flicking the tender extremity of his penis and then his mouth had opened in a great rough bellow as his loins opened and his juices flooded out through the phallic canal into the soft receptacle of her body.
Ineni muttered to himself, spurring the girl on. What was she doing? In a moment it would be too late. Sweat stood on his brow and his jaw was taut as he watched.
But the girl had chosen the only moment in which success was inevitable. As the hot discharge shot in bullets into her opening and the guard's head and thoughts filled with nothing but a furious, all-pervading thunder of release, she undid the clasp with deft fingers, drew out the knife and plunged it deep into his back all in one movement.
He gave an extra jerk which could easily have been one of passion, and let out a sharp cry of pain, which mingled with his roars of fulfilment.
The girl, her face set, eyes filled with horror, but determined in her horror, pulled out the dagger and thrust it into his back again.
Watching, his heart pounding, biting his lips, Ineni saw the little drama enacted fully. Saw the incongruity of a beautiful girl being buggered furiously, while the recent possessor of her vagina, penis still in her, clasped in her legs, gave his last twitches all unknown to his comrade. The blood flowed down from his back onto the divan while the girl wriggled uneasily free of the body. The great penis, wet and slippery with the dregs of sperm, dangled limply to the rush surface on which the body lay.
The girl held the dagger, dripping blood, in front of her. The body had swayed over onto its back. It might have been exhausted from the violent intercourse.
The girl held the dagger tightly, waiting. She didn't want to risk a false blow at the man behind her. In the meantime Ineni could see his great shaft appearing and disappearing with startling rapidity. His hands moved around to the soft belly of the girl, grasping fiercely the soft flesh, clasping and unclasping the slim folds of her abdomen.
His thighs moved up and under her, clasped her hips as his hips smashed at her in quick undulation, his penis skewering into her bottom from all angles, splitting her buttocks apart, still bringing little shrieks of sensual pain from her lips.
His mouth was open. He bit her neck so that she cried out. His hands moved up, almost in a paroxysm to her breasts, pinching them, twisting them, digging into the nipples. His thighs twined and untwined, his hips undulated and moved in an almost rotary motion. Trying to hurry him, the girl extended her bottom at him, spreading her buttocks, straining her aperture as if she were emptying her bowels so that it met his upthrust in the middle of emptying, aiding his organ on its inward rush into her backside depths.
'Shag!' she whispered. 'Harder. You're making me sore. Make me sore. Go on, lose it in me. Push, push harder!'
Her words reached Ineni as a gentle echo in the chamber and, in passing, he thought he had taught her well, that she had played the role tonight well, that she had probably half-enjoyed it after the initial moments.
And then he heard the guard uttering a long drawn-out moan which grew in pitch until with a sudden convulsive thrust which almost hurled the girl onto the corpse in front of her, his penis had shattered its contents into her bottom. It continued thrusting into her in long forceful strokes and a sharp gasp at each painful release, until the reserve had dwindled and drained and the man rolled away from her, his penis sucking out with him, onto his back.
The girl turned over without a moment's hesitation and plunged the dagger into the man's heart.
Leaving it buried there she rushed to the cell door, struggled with the bar a moment and then grated it back from its staples.
Ineni pushed from inside and the door swung open and he stepped out into the chamber.
The girl flung herself, sobbing into his arms, overcome with the macabre horror of the role she had played. Her nerves, stretched to breaking point, had momentarily snapped.
Memoirs of a Young Don Juan
Berthe and I heard voices close by, outside the garden. We soon realised that they belonged to some servant girls who had been working in the field just beyond. Since it was now their lunch hour we stayed to watch them.
It had been raining the night before and the newly ploughed earth stuck to the girls' bare feet. Their skirts - they wore just one layer of clothing it seemed - just reached their knees. None of them were great beauties but, all the same, they were well-built sun-bronzed peasant girls, aged between twenty and thirty.
When these women had reached the stream they sat on the grassy bank and paddled their feet in the water.
While bathing their feet they jabbered away, their voices rising in competition with each other.
They sat facing us, no more than ten paces off, so that we could easily distinguish the difference in colour between their brown calves and their much whiter knees which were now completely on view. With some of them we could even make out a hint of thigh.
Berthe did not seem particularly enamoured of this exhibition and she pulled my arm for us to go.
Then we heard footsteps near by and we saw three workmen approaching along the path close to the spot where we had hidden.
At the sight of these men, some of the girls began to fuss with their clothes. One girl in particular drew attention to herself, there was something of the Spaniard in her coal black hair and clear grey eyes sparkling with mischief.
The first of the men, a dull-looking clod, took no notice of the women's presence and, standing directly in front of our hiding place, unbuttoned his trousers to pee.
He took out his member, which looked much the same as mine, except that his glans was completely hidden. He uncovered it to piss. He had lifted his shirt-tail so high that the hair surrounding his genitals was visible. He had also pulled his balls out of his trousers and was scratching them with his left hand while holding his member in his right.
I was as bored by all this as Berthe had apparently been when I had pointed out the peasant girl's calves to her, but now she was all eyes. The girls pretended not to notice him. The second man likewise unbuttoned his trousers and brought forth a prick which was smaller than his companion's, but brown and half-uncovered. He began to piss. At that the girls all burst out laughing, and their shrieks grew even more hilarious when the third also assumed the position.
By this time the first fellow had finished. He uncovered his prick completely and, shaking off the last drops, bent his knees slightly to replace the package in his pants. In so doing he let fly a clear, emphatic fart and gave an 'Aaah!' of satisfaction. Amongst the girls this gave rise to much derisive laughter.
The hilarity increased when they noticed the third fellow's joy-stick. He had placed himself on a slope, so that we could see both his member and the peasant girls seated beyond.
He raised it skyward and sent his stream arching high which set the girls laughing like lunatics. Then the men approached the maids, and one of the latter began to splash water playfully on the stupid-looking work-man. The third man remarked to the brunette who, upon seeing the men arrive, had settled her skirts:
'A lot of good it does you to hide it, Ursula. I've already seen that article you hold so dear.'
'There's plenty of things you haven't seen yet, Valentin! And a lot you'll never see,' Ursula replied coquettishly.
&nb
sp; 'You think so, do you?' said Valentin, who was now standing directly behind her.
Seizing her shoulders he forced her backward to the ground. She tried to remove her feet from the water, but neglected to keep her light skirt and blouse from billowing upward, so that she was completely exposed from the waist downward. Unfortunately, this enjoyable spectacle lasted only a few seconds.
Nevertheless it had lasted long enough for me to see that Ursula, who had already shown herself to be the proud owner of a pair of splendid calves, also possessed a pair of thighs which in themselves were worthy of the highest honours, and a bottom whose cheeks left absolutely nothing to be desired.
Between her thighs, at the bottom of her belly, lay a bush of dark hair which extended far enough to envelop both pretty lips of her cunt. But there the hair was more sparsely scattered than above, where it covered an area I could not have concealed beneath my hand.
'You see, Ursula,' said Valentin, by now quite excited, 'now I've seen your black pussy.' And without flinching he took the series of blows and insults which the girl, now really angry, rained upon him.
The second man wanted to pull the same trick with another of the girls as Valentin had tried with Ursula.
This second peasant girl was fairly pretty. Her face, neck and arms were so covered with freckles that it was almost impossible to distinguish the real colour of her skin. Her legs were also freckled, but the freckles there were larger and more dispersed. She had an intelligent look about her; her eyes were a deep brown, her hair red and crinkly. She wasn't really pretty, but nevertheless a tempting enough morsel to give a man ideas. And the workman Michel seemed to have a few. 'Helen,' he said, 'you should have a red mound. If it's black it means it must be stolen!'
'Dirty pig!' spat the lovely peasant girl.
He grabbed her as Valentin had done.
But she had had time to get to her feet, and instead of getting a glimpse of her pretty mound, Michel received such a hail of blows full in the face that he must have seen stars.
The other two girls joined in and began to pummel him.
At last he broke away and, pursued by the girls' mocking laughter, ran to catch up with his companions.
The girls had finished bathing their feet and had left. Only Ursula and Helen remained, and they were ready to go.
They were whispering together. Ursula burst out laughing and, wrinkling her forehead, made a funny face. Helen was looking at her and nodding her head in assent.
The former seemed to be thinking over what the other had told her. Helen shot a glance around her to make sure that everyone had left, then quickly lifted her skirts in front and, holding them high with her left hand, slipped her right hand between her thighs at the spot where one could see a forest of red hair. By the movement of the hair, which was much thicker than Ursula's, one could see she was squeezing herself between her fingers, though the thickness of her fleece prevented me from actually seeing the lips of her cunt. Ursula was watching her intently. Suddenly a stream shot forth from the bush of pubic hair but instead of falling straight to the ground, it arched and described a half circle in the air. Both Berthe and I were astonished to see it, for neither of us had ever imagined that women could piss like that. The operation lasted as long as it had with Valentin.
Ursula likewise seemed surprised, and wanted to try it herself, but she save up the idea, for just then the second and last bell for lunch rang, and the two girls set off rapidly.
Several days passed without anything of further note taking place.
Since the weather had turned bad, I spent most of my time in the library, where I had been pleasantly surprised to come across an anatomical atlas in which I found an illustrated description of the intimate parts of both sexes. The book also contained an explanation of pregnancy and of all the phases of maternity, none of which I had known before.
This interested me especially because the bailiff's wife was then pregnant, and the sight of her enormous belly had greatly aroused my curiosity.
I once had heard her discussing the matter with her husband. Their quarters were on the ground floor right next to mine, near the garden.
Obviously, the events of that memorable day, when I had seen my sister naked, and afterwards the sport of the peasant girls and men, had been constantly with me. I thought of them ceaselessly and my member was constantly erect. I looked at it and played with it often. The pleasure I felt when handling it incited me to continue.
In bed I amused myself by lying on my belly and rubbing myself against the sheets. My feelings grew more and more sensitive every day. A week passed in this way.
One day when I was sitting in the old leather chair in the library, the atlas open in front of me to the page describing the female genital organs, I had such an erection that I unbuttoned my trousers and took out my prick. From constant rubbing it now uncovered easily. I was as a matter of fact sixteen by now, and considered myself a man. My hair had grown thicker and resembled a handsome moustache. That particular day I felt such a profound and unaccustomed voluptuousness as I rubbed it that my breathing grew short. I tightened the grip on my member, loosened it, stroking back and forth. I uncovered the tip completely, tickled my balls and my arsehole, then examined my glans, which was deep red in colour and as shiny as lacquer.
The pleasure I felt was beyond words. I ended up by discovering the rules for the fine art of masturbation, and stroked my dick regularly and rhythmically, until something happened to me that I had never experienced before.
The feeling was so voluptuous that I was forced to stretch my legs out in front of me and push against the legs of the table. My body slipped down and was pressing against the back of the chair.
I felt the blood surging into my face. My breathing was becoming difficult. I closed my eyes; my mouth dropped slightly open. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind in the space of a minute.
My aunt, in front of whom I had stood naked, my sister, whose pretty little pussy I had explored, the powerful thighs of the two maids - all these images flew across my mind. My hand stroked my prick faster and faster. An electric shock coursed through my body.
My aunt! Berthe! Ursula! Helen! ...I felt my member swell, and from the dark red glans sprayed forth a whitish liquid, first with a powerful jet, followed by others less forceful. I had just discharged for the first time.
My engine softened rapidly. I now looked with interest and curiosity at the sperm which had spilled into my right palm. It both looked and smelled like the white of an egg, it was thick like glue. I licked it and found it to taste like a raw egg. I shook off the last few drops clinging to the tip of my member, which was now completely subdued, and wiped it on my shirt.
I knew, from what I had previously read, that I had just given myself up to the pleasures of onanism. I looked the word up in the dictionary, and found a long article on the subject, in such detail that anyone who had not previously been aware of the practice would inevitably have been fully enlightened.
The article had once again excited me. The fatigue resulting from my first ejaculation was past. The only tangible evidence of my act was a devouring appetite. At table my aunt and mother remarked upon my appetite, but dismissed it as merely due to growth.
I soon came to realize that onanism is like drink: the more you have, the more you want...
My prick was constantly hard, and my thoughts increasingly voluptuous, but the pleasures of Onan could not satisfy me forever. I thought of women and it seemed a shame for me to waste my sperm masturbating.
My tool became darker, and pubic hair a handsome beard, my voice deepened, and a few microscopic hairs appeared on my upper lip. I realized that I lacked only one experience of manhood: coitus - that was the term used in books for the activity that was still unknown to me.
All the women of the household noticed the changes that had taken place in me, and I was no longer treated as a child.
The next day, after my morning coffee, the bailiff's wife came in to clean
up my room.
I've already mentioned that she was pregnant, and I carefully studied the enormous contour of her belly, and the unusual size of her breasts which swung to and fro beneath her light blouse.
She was a pleasant looking woman with pretty features. Until the bailiff had put her in the family way she had been one of the chateau's maids.
I had already seen women's breasts in pictures and on statues, but never in the flesh.
The bailiff's wife was in a great hurry. She had buttoned only one of her blouse buttons. When she leaned over to straighten my bed, this solitary button came undone, and I saw her entire bosom, for the vest she was wearing was very low-cut.
I sprang to my feet: 'Madam, you'll catch cold!' And pretending to help her rebutton her dress, I untied the ribbon holding it on her shoulders. As I did so her two breasts seemed to leap out of their hiding place, and I felt their bulk and firmness.
The buttons on each breast stood out, they were red and surrounded by a large brownish halo.
Her teats were as firm as a pair of buttocks, and as I fondled them with both hands I could have sworn they were a pretty girl's behind.
The woman was so astonished that I had time, before she recovered her wits, to kiss her nipples at leisure.
She smelled of sweat, but in a way that excited me. It was that odor di femina which, as I was later to learn, emanates from a woman's body and, according to the individual, provokes either desire or disgust.
'Oh, ooh! What are you thinking of? No... that's not right... I'm a married woman... not anything in the world.'
These were her words as I steered her towards the bed. I had opened my dressing gown and lifted my nightshirt, revealing my member in a dreadful state of excitement.
'Let me alone. I'm pregnant. Oh, Lord God, if anyone should see us!'
She was still resisting, but less forcefully.
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