by AnonYMous
The girl, unconscious of my embarrassment, wsa already engaged in preliminary preparations, and was chatting away in an amiable fashion, but I was too engrossed with my own preoccupations to hardly know what she was saying. Soon she was standing before me with a bowl of water in her hands and a towel over her arm, waiting for me to disrobe. There was no help for it and reluctantly I commenced to undress. She had removed her chemise, and was completely naked except for her little high heeled slippers and hose, but even the sight of her exquisitely rounded hips and legs, her protruding breasts, the right profusion of hair that stood out so prominently at the union of her plump thighs were insufficient to revive the miserable appendage which hung its head so lifelessly between my own legs. And now, the last garment was off and its condition was revealed. Without evidencing any surprise, she took it between the fingers, and immersed it in warm water, saying:
"You've never had it 'French' before, have you dearie?" I made no reply, and she continued:
"You're just nervous that's all. Lots of men are that way the first time. I'll make it stand up all right."
Meanwhile the girl kept up her amiable chatter to which I was now able to listen with more attention, and as my tranquillity returned, I ventured to ask her a few questions. Her name was Rose. She was not, as I has supposed, French, but Belgian. No; she didn't like this kind of life. She was saving up her money to leave it and return to her native land. Some of the men who came were not nice. They were never satisfied, and expected a girl to do all kinds of things. Only last night, she confided, a man had wanted t to it to her in the bottom, and had gotten angry when she refused. Inwardly I marveled at the incongruous line of reasoning she must have employed to justify herself in taking a man's cock into her mouth, and at the same time maintain scruples against it in her bottom, but I kept my thoughts on the subject to myself.
The ablutions now concluded to her satisfaction, she removed the basin, and inquired:
"How do you want it, dearie, single or double?"
Obvious as was the question I failed to comprehend it at the moment, not wishing to display further signs of ignorance and as the word "single" sounded somewhat less formidable than "double" I replied with but a momentary hesitation:
What she wanted to know of course was whether I wished only to be sucked off, or in addition, also perform n her at the same time.
I started toward the bed, but she stopped me with a gesture, saying:
"Listen dearie, I'm going to tell you something. You've never had it 'French' before, and you're nervous. Don't lie down. Let me do it to you standing up. It will feel nicer that way."
Though surprised I acceded to her suggestion and under guidance I leaned against the wall while she placed a cushion on the floor at my feet, and kneeled upon it.
The fifteen or twenty minutes which followed will remain engraved upon my mind as long as memory lasts. Fifteen or twenty minutes during which such waves of delight passed through my body, as set every nerve from the top of my head to the tips of my toes tingling with ecstasy, waves which alternately lifted me up on their crests t the heights of sublimest delight, and then gently dropped me back down to less turbulent but equally delicious realms of bliss.
On her knees before me, one hand clasping my testicles, the other resting lightly on my hip, she took my cock in her mouth. She began a slow backward and forward movement with her head with the result, that at one moment, only the crown was between her lips, the next half its length was engulfed within her mouth. And as the foreskin receded with the forward movement, exposing the head, she ran her tongue around and over it and each time that hot tongue passed or curled around the delicate gland, the sensation fairly stood me on tip-toes.
Had she wished to do so, she could have brought this performance to its conclusion within less than sixty seconds, for I could not have withstood the uninterrupted action of her tongue and lips for a period longer, but she was evidently disposed t give me my money's worth and with scientific exactitude she regulated her lingual activities to coordinate them with my powers of resistance, and each time, just as the sensation reached its zenith of intensity she relaxed the tension just sufficiently to forestall the impending explosion.
During the short interval this sybaritic ritual was in progress I was a dozen times so close to the crisis that through a feeling of embarrassment at the idea of ejaculating in her mouth, I put my hand n her head to ease her away, but she declined to release her grip on the palpitating object between her lips and motioned to me disapprovingly.
Finally, cognizant of the fact that the limit of my endurance had been reached, she removed her lips and said:
"I'm going to let it come now! Don't move and don't try to jerk away. Just stand perfectly still and let me do everything!"
She pushed the foreskin back with her fingers and took the exposed head between her lips. This time, there was no movement. Apparently she was just holding it in her mouth. But, ah! I felt a sudden suction alternated with the curling and tapping of a soft tongue around the gland, which continued a few moments and then, suddenly the seminal fluid was spurting into her mouth. She continued the suction until the last drop had been withdrawn.
Rising quickly she spit out the spermatic libation and rinsed her mouth with several successive glasses of water. I threw myself upon the bed from which I watched her with half closed eyes.
And thus was my fist experience in passive fellatio or, as it is vulgarly called in the language of the day "being Frenched" satisfactorily consummated, and I had enjoyed to the fullest that sexual caress which is probably the most exquisite of any known to mortals.
I have always, I fear, been afflicted with an excess of sentimentality, a defect which has caused unhappiness and disagreeable complications on more than one occasion. In casual dealings with the fair sex, it is well to avoid sentimental weakness.
In plain words, a hot cock and cold heart make the best combination. When sentimental considerations begin to play too conspicuous a part in sexual affairs we both are in for disappointment or trouble or maybe both. There is a funny superstition prevalent among women of the middle and lower class in England to the effect that a man will never forget a woman who has sucked his cock and young wives are frequently advised by older women to employ this unique method of firmly anchoring their husband's affections! As to the truth there may be in the allegation, I hardly dare venture to maintain but before twenty-four hours went by I wanted t see Rose again so badly, I could hardly think of anything else. Financial considerations prevented my immediate return and it was two weeks before I could accumulate the necessary funds.
I returned but when my eyes eagerly swept the assembly in search of Rose, she was not visible.
"Is Rose in?" I inquired, politely.
"No, she's gone," was the brief response.
"When will she be back?" I asked, my heart sinking with disappointment.
"She won't be back. She's gone away."
"Where can I find her?"
Nobody knew, or if they did know, which was more likely, they were not disposed to tell. Wouldn't another girl do just as well? Clearly, in the matter of having one's cock sucked, they were unable to see why any fine distinctions between girls should be drawn.
I shook my head negatively, my heart too full for words. I wanted Rose and nobody but Rose – the disappointment was too keen to consider a substitute. They all looked drab and unattractive in comparison with the vanished Belgian. I backed out of the door, went down the stairs I had ascended in such a pleasant glow of anticipation, to turn my steps disconsolately homeward.
A week later I paid a belated visit to Josephine. She received me with open arms, overjoyed at my return. Indeed so affectionate was her greeting that I felt a twinge of conscience for my dereliction and unfaithfulness.
There were few visitors in the reception parlor, and as it seemed probable that we should have the evening free from interruption we lost half an hour or more acquainting each other with what had h
appened in the interval of our separation.
Needless to say, I omitted to tell her about Rose, and simply delayed my return to the city an extra two weeks to account for not having seen her earlier.
The story of my adventure in the country, which I confided to her quite frankly, convulsed her with laughter.
"What did you let her get away for?" she said. "When you start any thing like that you ought to finish it. If you had held her, and given her one good fucking she'd have kept quiet about it and had been after you for some pretty soon! Had her in a hay loft, and your fingers in her pussy, and then let her get away from you, I'm surprised!"
"I didn't exactly let her," I said and rather sheepishly explained how I had been defrauded by the slippery little country maid.
"Well, I won't try to get away, darling, but first you know what I want! I haven't had a good frigging since you went away!"
she laid her head against my cheek, separated her legs, and I put my hand over her cleft. A few preliminary caresses, and my finger tips began to play with the little protuberance which was so responsive to their touch. She shivered with pleasure and murmured:
"Darn it, Gilbert, you could win a girl with just your finger even if you didn't have anything else. You've got just the right touch, and not one man in dozens ever learns it."
"Why do you like this better than the real way?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Variety, I guess. I get it so much the other way it doesn’t thrill me anymore. Maybe it's because I'm lazy. This way you do all the work and I just lie still and enjoy myself. Some men like it better by hand then the regular way, too," she continued reflectively. "There was a girl here once, she left before you started coming here, that wouldn’t do anything but frig men with her hand. She was awfully pretty, but everyone thought she was balmy to expect to make any money that way. They called her Miss Jackoffsky in fun. But they soon found out she wasn't nearly as crazy as they thought. Men started coming and asking for her, and they kept coming back, time after time, and the landlady finally decided she was Frenching me instead of jacking them off. She fixed a hole in the wall of her room, and we watched when she had a man in the room. But there was no fake about it, she didn't do a single thing but jack them off with her hand. Sometimes the man would beg and coax her and offer extra money to let him fuck her, but she never gave in and that same man would come back again in a few days. It was the strangest thing; she got so man calls some of the other girls began to get jealous of her and were so nasty to her she finally left. I bet you there were men coming here asking for her for six months after she had gone, and they never would take another girl when we told them she wasn't here. So you see," she concluded, smiling, "I'm not any worse than some of you men. It feels good, and I like it."
"A nice soft tongue would feel still better," I ventured.
"It might at that," she commented pensively, after a moment's silence. "Sometime…"
In this moment there came a sudden knocking at the door, and from the other side, the voice of the mistress of the establishment calling on Josephine to hurry, as there was a crowd in the parlor, and all the girls were needed.
Inasmuch as I had already exceeded by far the time I was entitled to occupy Josephine, there was nothing for me to do but disgustedly put on my hat and coat and depart.
It was about eight-thirty and as I wandered down the street, wondering how to most enjoyably the evening with the small capital in my possession, I saw a train with the sign "Wonderland" approaching, and acting on impulse of the moment, I ran out and boarded it.
Wonderland was an amusement park situated on the outskirts of the city. Here were cheap shows, skating rinks, carousels, and an infinity of catch-penny devices. On holidays, Saturdays and Sundays, the place was well patronized, but there never was much activity on week nights, although many of the concessions remained open. It was reputed to be a fine place to "pick up" girls, although at this moment I had no other thought in mind than to kill an hour or two of time agreeably.
When we reached the park I got off, paid the small entrance fee and went inside. Few of the entertainment features were operating but here and there were signs of activity with barkers, pitchmen and touts shouting their wares or extolling the qualities of the entertainments. I idled along, indifferent to their supplications, for I had on previous occasions seen about all there was to be seen.
From a distant section came the strident but not unmusical notes of a mechanical organ, operating in conjunction with a merry-go-round, and toward the source of this music I wended my way. Under a blaze of colored lights, to the tune of "Sweet Rosie O'Grady," tigers, giraffes, lions, horses, elephants and other gayly painted members of the animal kingdom were flying around in a dizzy circle, rising and falling with mechanical precision in what was supposed to be the equivalent of wild flight.
As I watched them flashing by on their never ending journey something caught my eye which instantly awakened more than merely passing interest. This something was a girl of thirteen or fourteen, sitting astride a ferocious tiger which, with uplifted, menacing claws, swayed backward and forward, as it whirled about the course. The object of my interest was out of sight almost before I had gotten a brief glimpse of her, but brief as it was it was sufficient to hold me there for further contemplation.
A mass of yellow curls bobbed up and down with the swaying of the feline steed and with each downward movement a short dress billowed up in the air displaying a generous expanse of flesh above the top of her hose.
I watched this seductive bit of femininity with increasing interest till the contrivance on which she was diverting herself came to a stop and she clambered down, displaying further expanses of flesh and panties as she swung her leg over the bark of the wooden effigy. Departing through the narrow exit, she ambled down a passage between two rows of ring throwing and other swindle schemes with me close at her heels and watching covertly over my shoulder, to see whether there were any parents or older companions in the background. I saw nothing to indicate that anyone besides myself was interested in her movements, and as she paused to inspect a display of knick-knacks in a window I sidled up to her and murmured in her ear:
"Having a good time, cutie?"
She looked me over appraisingly and with not but brief hesitation replied:
"Not very. Nearly everything's closed up."
"Like to take a ride on the roller coaster?"
"Sure!" was the succinct and satisfactory reply.
Something about this girl's appearance and the matter of fact way in which she accepted my invitation, told me I had a live one. As we made our way to the coaster an adroit question or two extracted the information I was most interested in, namely that she was alone. She lived but a short distance from the park, and was in the habit of coming by herself, to spend an hour or two in the early evening.
Carefully I sized her up, and the inspection tended to confirm my first estimate. Despite her baby face, there was something in her eyes which denoted sophistication. The dress she wore was extremely short, and displayed too well a pair of round mature legs sheathed in glistening black silk stockings, a luxury common enough for now, but rather unusual for young girls at that time. She also had on high heeled French slippers, something still more unusual for extremely young misses.
When we reached the entrance to the coaster, I invested in a sufficient number of tickets to carry us around the track four times. The device in question commonly denominated as the "Russian Mountains" was an inclined track which ascended to an elevation of some height. Little three seated cars were drawn up this track, and permitted to descend a winding course under their own momentum. It was extremely popular with young couples, and it was quite permissible for a gentleman to put his arm around his companion, as in assurance of protection when the cars shot down the steep incline which gave initial impetus and velocity to the journey. Moreover there were several enclosed sections constructed in the form of dark tunnels, located at convenient intervals along th
e course. Under cover of the darkness so provided warm lips could be discretely kissed, and if the circumstances were favorable, caresses of a still more intimate nature might be indulged in. Naturally, I had all this in mind when I suggested a ride on the coaster.
A scarcity of customers that night resulted in our obtaining the exclusive occupancy of a car designed ordinarily to accommodate three couples. As we slowly ascended the steep incline, I put my arm around my companion's waist. When the car started down the straightaway, gathering velocity with every second, she squeezed up to me, with the customary simulation of fright.
The first time around I contented myself with warm kisses pressed on half-parted willing lips in the darkness of the tunnels and caverns as we speeded through.
As we started on the second trip, I raised my arm over her shoulder and let my had rest lightly over one of her small but firm little bubbies, and as no objection was made to the contact, I ventured a bit further, and squeezed it softly.
On the third trip around, this same hand was on the inside of her bodice over her bare breast instead of on the outside. It's mate was under the hem of her short skirt lying on the smooth skin just above the top of her silk stocking – and disposed to go higher.
On the fourth and final trip the hand last referred to had deftly found its way up the inside of a panty leg and was in pleasant contact with something softly hairy, warm, and very moist.
All this had been accomplished with the complete acquiescence and entire complacency of the little miss with the baby face and woman's legs. City girls are more sensible than country girls.
When we got off the car I had such a hard-on, I wondered uneasily whether people would notice my pants sticking out in front.
