‘Lie down, Achmet,’ he said, ‘I must have a tight place to finish what I have begun on that girl.’
The person addressed lay belly downward and then the Turk turned up the female petticoats which had heretofore concealed the male sex of the wearer. It was indeed a boy, doubtless a eunuch whom the Turk kept to supplement the services of the three women of his harem. On the prostrate form of this boy the Turk mounted, and the grunts of satisfaction soon proclaimed that he had satisfied his brutal lust. I thanked heaven that I had not suffered him to gender with me. After a while he arose and pulled down the petticoat over the boy’s buttocks so that he again appeared in the semblance of a woman.
‘Lock up that little tigercat in a room by herself,’ said the Turk, pointing to me.
I was glad to be alone and went into the room indicated without any opposition. I looked around for something to put on. The only article I could see was a rich suit of boy’s clothing which doubtless belonged to the one in the next room. I dressed myself in these, completing my disguise by concealing my hair under the boy’s turban. Then I looked from the window to see what were the chances of escape.
Though I was on the second storey, it was not very high from the ground. I leapt. Then I made my way to the river and jumped into a boat that was moored at the bank. Casting it loose I floated down the stream. The night was very dark and my boat was nearly run down by a passing vessel, but I called loudly for aid and was taken on board. Then I breathed free.
The vessel sailed down the Persian Gulf, and, crossing over to the Red Sea, proceeded to Egypt. I found my way to Alexandria in company with some merchants, one of whom took a fancy to me and engaged me as an attendant. He was trading between Alexandria and Morocco and owned the ship on which we sailed from the former port. We were the only occupants of the cabin. He was a handsome young man and he won my heart by his uniform kindness, but I did not reveal the secret of my sex.
The day before we reached Morocco, he called me into his cabin to assist him in a bath. He stripped unconcernedly before me; his form was manly and graceful but I was fascinated with the organs peculiar to his sex. They hung drooping at his loins, unconscious that a woman was looking at them—nay, touching them, for I contrived to touch them as often as I could while I bathed him. When I had finished sponging him he lay extended on the sofa for me to rub him dry. My hands explored all parts of his person, but lingered longest at his thighs—so much so that his shaft began to rise at the friction.
‘Take care, little fellow,’ said he, ‘you will arouse a passion which you cannot gratify.’
I felt my cheeks burning, a soft desire came through my veins and I was about to open my bosom and reveal my sex—but the thought of the terrible pang in the Turkish harem restrained me. I stooped and kissed his thighs; my cheeks brushed his genitals. Then I sat down and watched him while he dressed until the object which had so attracted me was concealed by his clothes. The next day we were in port and a dour Pasha Abdallah came on board. When his business was finished, conversation turned on me.
‘I will make you a present of him,’ said the young merchant. ‘Poor little fellow! It is too bad to keep him at sea.’
He did not know how dejected I looked at this change of masters, but it was no time for explanations. Abdallah took me with him and entrusted me to his chief eunuch to whom I sought the first opportunity of confiding my sex and misfortune. I have now been with these amiable people a week, but the Pasha has not touched me yet. I suppose I owe my exemption to the fact I am not a virgin.
‘But you are to all intents and purposes a virgin, my charming Myrzella,’ said I, tightening my arm around her waist and kissing her as she finished speaking. She eluded my grasp and seized Virginia by the hands.
‘Come,’ she said, ‘let’s have a waltz.’
The two pretty little creatures floated round and round the room in each other’s arms, while Inez took up a lute and played a suitable accompaniment. Virginia, at every complete turn of the dance, held Myrzella in a close grasp, and their loins were pressed together. This wanton motion was kept up till their already excited passions were completely aroused.
They suddenly finished the dance and lay on the cushions in each other’s embrace with their thighs locked so that the lips between them were pressed together. Not only were the lips at their loins kissing, but their mouths were also glued together in this barren embrace. I was on top of them both in a twinkling, and guided my stiff shaft between them. My nap after Anna’s exhaustive embrace had restored my vigour. The stories of the young girls had aroused my passions. The thought of conferring on Myrzella her first rapture made me feel like a war horse going to battle.
My shaft glided between them entering neither, but it was deliciously moistened with the dewy lips at the loins of both. As I gave another thrust Virginia slyly put her hand behind her and guided it into her own sheath. She was on top of Myrzella, between whom and myself she was pinioned. My loins were no sooner crushed against her little buttocks than I felt my crest bathed in her melting shower. To me the sensation was exquisite; to her it was final. She sank with a long-drawn sigh, perfectly limp on top of Myrzella. I drew out my shaft and plunged it all dripping with Virginia’s moisture into the pretty Persian girl. Moist as it was, it entered with difficulty the orifice which was so tight, but it entered to the hilt. Virginia’s thin buttocks were but little in the way. My hand could fondle with both their bosoms at once. My crest, vivified with the moisture of them both, was battering at Myrzella’s womb; my kisses were showered on the neck of one and then the other. I was transported with a double rapture which my overwrought nerves could endure no longer, and the gushing sperm came blissfully to a termination. While it was gushing the pretty Persian melted with a thrill at her first rapture. Her screams of delight were so loud and prolonged that the ladies had to hush her for fear it would alarm the guards at the gates. I had just strength to turn Virginia over on her back close beside Myrzella. Then clasping them both in my arms, I stretched a leg between the thighs of each and we lay in a voluptuous repose, my forehead resting on the cushion and each appropriating one of my cheeks for kisses.
‘Do tell us how your maidenhead was taken, Captain,’ said one of the ladies after I had recovered from the exhaustion of my double embrace.
‘Sure enough, why not?’ they cried in chorus. So, settling myself into a luxurious position more convenient for storytelling and still clasped in the arms of Virginia and Myrzella, I began.
Chapter IX
The Captain’s First Story
When I was a boy there was a beautiful girl named Rosamond whose family estate in Yorkshire adjoined our own. Though she was some years older than I, a close but innocent feeling sprang up between us. I was her companion in horseback rides, nutting excursions and country pleasures. This intimacy was kept up till suitors began to appear for her hand, and to one of these she was finally married and went to live in London. Soon after, I was sent away to school. Rosamond, who had now been married some time, kept a standing invitation for me to visit her. Accordingly I stopped at her house one night on my road through London. Her husband was away and we had full leisure to talk over old times. She had now expanded into an elegant woman with a form well developed and was a fine type of blonde, rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed English matron.
My boyish admiration grew more confirmed than ever. After dinner was over and we were sitting on the sofa together we grew so confidential that she at last unfolded her troubles to me. Her husband, she said, was unfaithful; he had even then left the city so that he might be with another woman. It was probably the first occasion on which she had confided her troubles to anyone. I hardly understood what she meant. I was as green and innocent as it was possible for a country boy to be, but when I saw her tears I knew she was unhappy and I drew her head to my shoulder and kissed her.
‘Do let me console you,’ I said. My meaning was innocent but she took it otherw
ise, I know, for the crimson mantled over her neck and cheeks.
She seemed to come to some sudden determination, for she returned my caresses and kisses again and again. It was bedtime; the servants had retired. Rosamond began slowly to loosen her dress at the neck, as if making what preparations she might downstairs before retiring. I got a glimpse of two plump, white bosoms. Little more was said. We both sat deeply thinking; my thoughts were still innocent. Then she drew up her skirts as ladies sometimes do before retiring and warmed her ankles at the fire. I got a glimpse of two plump calves that were twice as big as when we used to romp through the woods in the country, but I sat profoundly still.
‘George,’ she said, at length rising, ‘I feel lonesome tonight and you may sleep with me if you will.’
‘If you will not tell on me,’ said I, thinking I was too big a boy to sleep with a woman any more.
‘You can trust me for that,’ she replied, and led the way upstairs.
I told her I thought I would undress in my own room, which I did and then sheepishly came and got into bed with her. She received me in a close embrace; my frame was clasped in her soft, white arms. Two thicknesses of linen only separated it from her glowing form and our lips met in a long, delicious kiss. Then, for the first time, desire shot through my marrow and I felt my shaft stiffen against her belly. I knew now what she wanted. What a triumph it would be to gratify her and mingle my thin blood with the beautiful woman in my embrace, for such was my ignorant idea of the sexual connection; but to mingle with her, to pour my whole being into her was what nature impetuously demanded of me. I no longer hesitated to lift her chemise and get on top of her. My naked loins sank between her naked thighs; my face was buried in her bosoms. How it got in I do not know, but my shaft was taken in to the hilt with a sensation more sweet than had ever entered my imagination to conceive. I tried to get it in deeper; there was plenty of depth unsounded, but, though she helped me with her clasped arms, it would reach no further. I pushed and pushed with all my might to do something, I knew not what, when Rosamond gave a deep sigh and lay perfectly still.
‘Have I hurt you, dear Rosamond?’ I anxiously asked.
She burst into a merry laugh. ‘Get off for a while,’ she said, ‘and let us rest.’
I did not want to get off at all, but I did so and lay by her side with my moist and rigid shaft squeezed up against her plump thigh. It was half an hour before she would let me get in again. I spent the time in passionately kissing her cheeks, lips and bosoms and exploring all the secrets of her person with my hands. She gave the signal by partially lifting me, and again I sank upon her voluptuous form. My shaft was engulfed at the first thrust, I rapidly plunged it in again and again, now guiding it against one side and then against the other side of her gaping sheath. The heat and the moisture were more delicious than before. I felt something leaving my loins; it jetted from my crest and was lost in the profuse moisture that rose up in Rosamond. I gave a groan of ecstasy which explained to me the deep sighs she again heaved, and then I knew no more. When I became conscious again she was standing over me sprinkling water in my face.
‘How you have frightened me,’ she said. ‘You lay so still and you looked so pale.’
‘I only want to lie quiet in your arms,’ I said.
She folded me tenderly in her arms and I went directly to sleep with my head pillowed on her bosom and my hand between her thighs. We were virtuous next morning. She had plucked the fruit before it was ripe and none had grown in the night to replace it. My shaft would not stiffen at the bidding of her warmest kisses. After breakfast the coach drove up for me and I went off to school. I visited Rosamond’s house many times after that but she never again would allow me to take the slightest liberty with her, not even a kiss at meeting or parting. Her husband had reformed and she had no more wrongs to goad her into retaliation.
‘I think,’ said Inez, ‘it was a shame for a married woman to seduce an innocent boy.’
‘How nice it must have been,’ said Anna, ‘to take a sweet young fellow’s maidenhead.’
‘Do tell another story, Captain,’ said Helene.
‘Do,’ echoed all the others.
Chapter X
The Captain’s Second Story
When I arrived at the age of sixteen I was still a slender stripling, but, having an intrigue with a lady’s maid, I fancied myself quite a man of the world. One evening I attended the theatre with several other young noblemen. The character of Cleopatra was splendidly sustained by an actress of Irish birth whom I will call Charlotte. She was of colossal size, but of perfect proportions. The dark complexion of her lovely face made her a good representation of the Egyptian queen, whose voluptuous person and amorous nature she delineated so finely that every man in the house was carried away; yet this magnificent woman was nearly fifty. Her powerful constitution had triumphed over time.
After the play was over we went into the green room and I was introduced to her. The charm of her person and form lost nothing on a near approach, though I detected one or two silver threads in her glossy hair. Her eyes had the brilliant sparkle of youth, her lips were plump and red and her teeth were as white as pearls. As soon as she heard my name she manifested deep interest; a tender light came into her eyes and the colour heightened in her cheeks as she began to talk of my father. Now I had heard of the trouble my father gave his friends in his youth by his infatuation for an actress. I could no longer doubt that she stood before me. Charlotte’s name was free from scandal—remarkably so for an actress. Perhaps her liaison with my father had been her only folly.
‘Do give a little supper party after the theatre which will meet in my room,’ she asked me. I promised to do so, and accordingly met there a few actors and patrons of the theatre. We had a modest supper where wit, not wine, reigned. I sat next to Charlotte who seemed hardly able to take her eyes off me.
When the guests rose to go, I lingered at the door, and they went without noticing that I remained. The impulse was mutual to clasp each other in our arms.
‘Oh, how I wish that you had been my son! It ought to have been so.’ I was in no mood to be made a baby of. The grand voluptuous form of the queenly actress aroused far other emotions when it was folded to mine.
‘Is this your bedroom?’ said I, drawing her towards the door.
‘For shame, Georgie,’ she said, as a crimson blush spread from her cheeks to her splendid bosoms. She was in the costume of Cleopatra, over which she had thrown a long mantle after the play. This mantle had fallen off. It was evident that she had intended no assignation for she moved reluctantly to the door—but she returned the passionate kiss I planted full on her mouth. So commanding was her height that she had to stoop slightly to do it. As soon as we entered the bedroom she sat down on the bed and covered her face with her hands. I took the opportunity to divest myself of most of my clothes and then I stole up to her and kissed her naked and massive shoulder. She rose to her feet and, taking me in her strong arms as if I were an infant, she walked back and forth across the room with me.
‘Oh! Georgie, Georgie,’ she cried. ‘This is almost incest, but I can deny you nothing—I, who have allowed no man to embrace me since those delicious days of long ago.’
She still carried me in her arms, walking to and fro. My face was in contact with her great bosoms, each of which was as large as my head. As I passionately kissed them, my right hand dropped to her thighs, from which it parted the loose oriental drapery and found in it a shaggy mass of curls. Searching to the bottom of these it found a pair of moist, warm lips. I lifted my face from her bosom to meet hers and we exchanged a kiss. It differed from those she had heretofore given me. It was as voluptuous as my own and was prolonged until I felt her other lips, which my hand was searching, begin to swell and grow hot.
Charlotte carried me rapidly to the bed. Her mood was changed from maternal tenderness to fiery passion. She laid me upon my back and spran
g upon me. She folded me in her great muscular arms; her ponderous thighs settled on my own. Immense as they were, they were as a young girl’s. It was her hand which guided my rigid shaft amid the thick profusion of hair till it was fairly entered and rammed to the hilt by the vibration of her powerful loins. So firmly was I pinned to the bed by her great weight that I could not move. I felt as if I were about to be ravished like a woman. It was a novel sensation and charming as it was novel. Charlotte suddenly turned over on her back without relaxing her hold in the least upon me. I found myself on top of her, but she was still master of the situation. Her arms and legs were wrapped so tight around me that my bones fairly cracked. It was the rapid undulation of her loins alone that moved our closely joined forms. Her mouth was fastened on mine as if she was about to devour me; her big womb pressed against my crest. I felt the crisis coming overwhelmingly in the powerful embrace in which I was held. At this moment her muscles began to relax with her profuse melting shower. I spent, not with a stinted jet, but with profuse gushes that made a suitable tribute to the magnetism of her massive beauty. The rapture lasted me some time, even after I became nerveless, and at length died imperceptibly away.
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