Eroticon 3

by J. P. Spencer

  A few more jolts vibrated the quickly dwindling arrow of my lover - then it was over; we sank back into the soft pillows that covered the sofa.

  Later, when we had gathered our breath, our lips found each other again. Our kisses were stronger and more pure than before since there were no excited nerves or weakening senses that could distract our attention. It seemed as if we consisted only of mouths seeking each other and tasting the honey from each other's lips.

  Our arms were resting, completely relaxed around each other's shoulders. When my hands stole slowly down Pieter's body I saw his member, small and peaceful between the finely curled hairs. It had changed so much - was this the same mighty club with which Pieter had shown me his undying love?

  It seemed as if we wanted to kiss eternally to make up for all the time we had not been together. Our tongues penetrated deeply into our eagerly opened mouths. They met and kissed and played around as our lips had been doing for a long time. They petted each other, playfully avoided each other; our teeth played along and we bit lightly and enticingly. Pieter looked so handsome when he laughed happily! I tickled him to make him laugh louder. His teeth were regular, beautiful and white as snow. He enjoyed himself tremendously and played along with me. After a little while we romped around like a couple of excited school kids. This went on till I became especially wanton and swung my body on top of his, pressing his arms against his torso with my full thighs. Now I 'punished' the helpless man to my heart's content.

  I bent myself over him so that I could tousle his hair, but he seized this opportunity to quickly grasp one of the red berries that crowned my breasts with his lips. I pushed my full bosom into his face to teach him a lesson but I enjoyed this manoeuvre so much - especially since he cried 'uncle' and begged me not to pierce him wrathfully with my pointed breasts - that I repeated this game alternately with the hardening nipple of one breast and then the other. Finally I wound up literally boxing his ears with my taut, full globes, yes... I truly whipped him with those large elastic balls that were heavy and ripe as they should be when they belong to a full-grown enticing woman... Finally I pressed my bosom with all my force into his face, forcing him to breathe the heavy mixture of perfume, my perspiration and the peculiar odour of our sexes...

  At first this game seemed to have a peculiar narcotic effect on Pieter, but after he had suffered these sweet tortures for a while, breathing heavily and panting with excitement, he suddenly sat upright and lifted me off his muscular body.

  'Do you really think that I could stand much more of this, you little brown devil, you sweetest of all dark Satans - you drive me out of my mind... I'd lose it if I allowed you for one more moment... even the tiniest fraction of another minute... look... look what you have done... with your breast, with that sweetest of all bosoms which is going to get me into an insane asylum one of these days...!' And he pointed in playful wrath at his virile member.

  Good heavens, the way that thing towered up into the air! How stiff and straight it stood. I was positively fascinated. I could not help myself - I had to stretch out my hands, irrepressibly attracted by this magic wand, this towering sceptre; I had to touch it to convince myself that this hardness was no illusion, that this stiffness was real.

  When my hands - how small they seemed next to this enormous pole - encircled Pieter's regally presented member, a light shudder went through his body and at the same moment he took me into his arms.

  'I can't take it when you touch me there - come on, please, come on... I can't play this game any longer... I am much too excited - let me enter you quickly, I am expiring... oooh... how sweet is that body of yours... your bosom... your thighs... your divine derriere - everything... everything belongs to me... tell me... everything... Am I right...! Everything...?'

  I rested upon his chest. One arm encircled me firmly as if he were afraid that I would flee from him; with his free hand he tried (behind my back) to push his stiff and unruly member into my crevice. I helped him as well as I could: I wriggled my lower body, blindly searching for the club that was about to pierce me.

  Finally, Pieter succeeded in putting his big boy - after he had been fingering around unsuccessfully for some time - into my body. I must admit that I helped a little bit with my hands. My fear that Pieter could have slipped out, or even worse, missed his goal altogether, was too great. And shame? I did not feel any... Pieter and I had become too intimate...

  But now my lover started to ram into me anew. And I had the impression, right after the first few jolts, that he penetrated deeper into me than ever before. It felt as if his member was about to come out through my throat. He screwed me as if he were a maniac. Every other man would have scared me to death because his thrusts were rather brutal - but I knew that this vigour and power was his token of love for me and the almost animal rutting was proof that I, or rather the charms of my body, whipped his flesh into a frenzy. It was pure ardour... the stallion in this man had taken full possession of him.

  The animal within me was also awakened by his powerful jolts... they would have awakened the dead. Though at many moments the almost bursting member of my lover tore my tender orifice nearly to pieces, rubbed it raw and split my cleft to its utmost capacity, the tickling it caused was delightful and blissful beyond description. And the feeling of utter happiness that now took possession of me made me forget everything else; my entire being had become subject to this pleasure and only one single thought filled my grateful mind: I was being screwed with the fierce passion of which only a truly, idealistically honest man in love is capable. But this delicious thought did not prevent me from screaming wantonly and airing my passionate desires with rutting groans. First it was only a sigh, then a stammered exclamation and finally my inhibitions exploded and I hollered rather than spoke, 'You... aaaaah, how fantastic... what marvellous jolts... please, don't slow down... no... a little faster... faster... more, more, more... so... yes... oooh, how fantastic...! It feels so good... oh, please, darling, screw me as hard as you can... it feels so good... your prick is so sweet... aaah... aaaaah... you... you... let me die in your embrace... no, I want to enjoy you to the fullest... do you hear me... ? Often... always... always... you must screw me like this... aaah... ooooh... now - I - finally - know - what - a - good - fuck - means...'

  I did not realize, nor did I care, that my words overstepped the boundaries of good taste; I only knew one thing: Pieter screwed me as I am sure no woman has ever been laid before and even though I could barely take it to be possessed in such a maniacal way, I was obsessed with the tremendous desire that his power would increase and that his possession of me would only become stronger. The thought that the inhuman force of these powerful thrusts would slow down, or even worse, might stop altogether, was more unbearable than the incredible punishment I underwent...

  My wild utterings caused Pieter to become more ardent than ever, and his jolts became more and more powerful with every filthy word I uttered. A peculiar gnashing of his teeth and the shuddering along his flanks proved to me that it made him extremely passionate. And despite his previous polite language, Pieter was also capable of using a similar vocabulary and no longer hesitated in doing so.

  'Oh, darling... do you really think that I can fuck you the way you deserve...? Oh, I wish I had a cock that would be worthy of a cunt like yours... twice as heavy and much longer... aaah, isn't that what you really want...? Hah... you need a dong, a fat big cock, as heavy as an arm... that's what you want! ...You're right... one man is not enough for you... but I want to pin you down and make you... it is so heavenly... pretty soon I have to... please... please... push back a little harder... aaaah, how sweet... what a fantastic piece of ass... oooh, those buns... so firm... those sweet, sweet... buns... aaah... you... darling... my darling... aaah... aaaahh, you - on-ly - one...'

  All barriers were down. We were a man and a woman. Two hungry sexes. Nothing else. That's how we saw each other. Filled with boundless desire and giving in to it without shame, knowing full well that thi
s complete surrender to our voluptuous desires, this sovereign disdain for all civilized bounds, could only increase our enjoyment.

  I revelled in the foulest expressions I could think of without really knowing where I had acquired them. A common prostitute would not have the courage to use such language, but to us it became a precious ingredient, the pepper which spiced a sumptuous meal and tickled our palates, increasing our desire for more and stronger stimulations...

  'You... fuck... fuck me... ha... fuck me... with all your strength... harder, quicker... don't be so soft... come on, I want to feel your big prick... I want that dong of yours to tear me apart... aaah, now you're doing it... you fuck like a bull... you know how to give it to me... My husband is a stupid dog... he can't do it... like you... Give it to me... Oh, you don't know... how I hate... that bastard... aaah, darling... sweetheart... fuck me... please, I beg you... fuck me... fuck me hard... don't ever leave me... don't spare me... you, take me... be mean... do something... come on, fuck me really hard... push it deeper... what's the matter with you... are you getting tired...? Come on, come on... fuck me harder... stick it in deeper, hump as hard as you can... yes, yes, that's it... quicker... stronger... don't stop... aaaah... deep... deeper... I want to feel you, deeper... Taste you? Oh, lover, come, please... come... I am coming too... at the same time... aaah... I... am... coming... right... now... now! aaaaah!... Aaaaah... aaah... ooh!'

  A final convulsive bucking of my thrashing body and then I collapsed. Everything seemed to spin around me. My legs trampled around, foam formed upon my lips, my throat was suddenly parched and I felt as if I were about to choke. I barely had the power to ask for a glass of water... then a heavy fog settled upon me as if I had been nailed down to the. pillows...

  Pieter, the man with whom I have been in love purely and totally, was the only true love in my entire life. I have never had any regrets and his being there was the only ray of light in my otherwise dark marriage. I was truly grateful to my husband for bringing Pieter and me together; even though his intentions had been foul, the result was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me.

  If I could have foreseen what I was going to have to endure in the East Indies, I would never have followed my husband when he was transferred to that mysterious land. His conduct was no longer tolerated by his superiors and he was given the choice of accepting either a dishonourable discharge or a garrison position in a particularly dangerous and unhealthy district in the Colonies. As I said, if I had known then what I know now, I would have committed suicide.

  And, of course, I did not know either that I was going to lose my darling Pieter...

  When we were in the process of softening the blow of our parting with an especially tender rendezvous, Pieter told me, 'I will follow you and meet you in a certain city; I have to put my affairs in Holland in order and then I will go after you.' Three months later Pieter was no longer among the living; he fell off his horse and died before help could arrive.

  With his death, I lost everything that had given me the courage to endure my life, especially my marriage to MacLeod. Pieter was the most perfect lover a woman could wish for and it was he who gave me the idea to become a performing artiste.

  At first he asked me to walk up and down the room either nude, or - since I knew how excited this made him - with my skirts raised high up to my thighs... And I was glad to perform this little revue for him.

  'Your dancer's legs haunt me night and day,' he often told me and he did not rest before he had got my permission to have them pictured by a great Parisian artist who, at great cost to him, had come to our town for that purpose. 'I need their portrait,' he said, 'I always want to have your legs right in front of me.' He finally had many portraits done of my legs, one of them life-size; he wanted my legs in different poses. One portrait in particular stands out in my mind. The top of the picture was formed by my petticoat and silken chemise, held up by my hands; the fine lace of my panties peeked out from under the hems of my skirts. And then, my legs... in beautiful, black, crocheted stockings which stretched tautly around my full calves, slim ankles and ripe thighs, so taut that one could almost hear the silk rustle with any imagined movement of this beautiful painting. The position I had to take up embarrassed me greatly, especially in front of the painter who was doing his preparatory sketches. After all, this man was a complete stranger to me. The posture was rather inviting, to say the least; I stood like a wild dancer who is just about to throw one leg up high during the can-can. Most exciting were my thighs, partly nude and clearly visible in their white nakedness between the tops of the black hose and the hem of the skirt - Pieter could never get enough of looking at that particular spot in the painting. Sometimes I was truly jealous of that painting and I tried everything in my power to distract his attention. I would stand invitingly in front of it, lift my skirts and then... Then whatever I wanted would happen... the living flesh would triumph...

  Oh, happy days!

  Secret Talents

  You remember, my friend, how I told you I believed I was born to love? Well, I am more convinced of it than ever. Think back for a moment: Even before I left home I met a woman who opened my eyes to the joys of sex. True, it was an unnatural love to be sure, but what of that? I have never suffered from it; I acquired something of an education through it all, and though it was the wrong kind of an education - as some will try to make you believe - it had its advantages in that it was to provide me with the talents necessary in the years to follow. Such talents, I firmly believe, are necessary to a career such as mine.

  I believe I have already mentioned that I was desirous in wishing to retain my virginity until I came to age; if I didn't I am mentioning it now. Even before I left Vienna I had been taken with the desire to have a lover, but I held off; even passing my eighteenth birthday, that age when it is quite proper and fitting for a maiden to be regally and royally fucked.

  Even when making the journey into Frankfurt I was overtaken with these thoughts. I believe I had arrived at the age when it would be good for me to accept the love of a man, and as I reflected on my past life I was suddenly overcome with the desire for a man!

  Yes, that was it. I was in love without a lover - a most amazing state of affairs. It, however, never occurred to me that I was to have one so soon.

  The day following my arrival in Frankfurt my manager had provided me with a housekeeper. It happened, however, that I wasn't to keep her; she for years had held the position of wardrobe-mistress in the various productions and was quite well versed in things both upon and off stage.

  She was a motherly old soul and I was quite taken back when, that very day, she said: 'I do not wish to presume, my dear, but when do you expect to be joined by your lover?'

  The question coming from her amazed me. At first I was inclined to resent this bold remark, but I thought better of it - and I have always thanked myself that I hadn't been harsh with her.

  'My lover?' I asked, showing surprise at the audacity of her question.

  For a long moment she stared at me, then: 'You have a lover, have you not?'

  'No,' I answered, 'I have no lover. Why do you ask?'

  'I hope you will forgive me for mentioning it,' she began, 'but don't you think it quite necessary - to your voice, I mean?'

  Then it suddenly occurred to me that I had heard something or other about this, and I wondered if I could be mistaken in this woman's true meaning? Here I was a total stranger in a strange city with few if any friends. In the late past I had never been without a girl upon whom I could lavish my caresses, and I suddenly felt rather alone. Also, I wondered if it were possible that this elderly woman had designs on me? Feeling somewhat frisky at the moment I decided to put her to the test; she wouldn't be so bad; and an old tongue was better than nothing.

  Laughing, I said: 'I am sorry, my dear, but I have no male love; mine, in the past, has been lady lovers,' and I stretched languidly, at the time allowing one bare leg to jut out between the folds of my gown, the only a
rticle of clothing I was wearing at that moment.

  She shook her head. 'You are a very foolish girl,' she said. 'It is all very nice to have a sympathetic girl friend, but if you won't think me over bold I would say that you are abusing yourself in not taking a real lover - you understand, do you not?'

  There was a merry twinkle in her eyes as she said this.

  Becoming more daring, I said: 'You mean I should take one who will caress me in the manner I like to be caressed?'

  She nodded. 'You will find it necessary in the developing of your throat muscles. Please do not think I am presuming too much,' she went on. 'Indeed, I am quite serious. You must do this, or sooner or later you will lose your voice,' and turning, she left me alone with my thoughts. You may rest assured my thoughts were conflicting.

  The rest of the day I spent between reclining on a beautiful little flower-decked porch and fussing about a well-appointed kitchen.

  To give you some idea of how the thought gripped me, let me tell you of how I ate my dinner that night. I had dismissed my housekeeper and had set the table for two places. I fancied I was entertaining my lover, and to make the picture complete I wore but a thin dressing-gown and mules, being careful that the gown was open down the front. It was foolish, of course, but I was having a grand time of it. Later, when 'we' finished our dinner, I fancied he carried me to a broad divan, in the living-room, and here he kissed and kissed and kissed me. Oh, I don't know what I thought!

  I found myself eager for a man! I pictured him as a strong man; one qualified to administer real, brutal love—

  Then, the following day, a strange thing occurred. It was as though my prayers were being answered. A carriage stopped at my door. From it alighted my aged manager, and with him was one of the handsomest men I had ever seen! From behind the curtains I gazed at him; I had no eyes for my manager; and he was handsome; black, silky hair - Ah! he was an Apollo!