“What I love most about the boat house, is that it is completely private. I am the only person with a key. It’s completely deserted and no one ever comes down her. You could easily overpower me and ravish me and no one would know. You could take me here and now.”
Of course, they both knew this was nonsense as she was effectively the most powerful person in the Colony. And it was also a fib that she had the only key.
The young man completely misunderstood and ever so politely asked, “Lady Wallis, should I leave now?”
“No, no, of course not. All I was saying is that I love the privacy here and how it is so peaceful. Please keep at your work.”
The young man nodded.
Clearly a more direct and simpler approach was needed.
“Actually, the privacy I find extremely exciting. What with just the two of us here, and I have to say that your arms and shoulders are very big. Your muscles are so big and strong.”
It was now time to start asking explicit questions.
“How did you get such big arms?”
The young man lost some of his tension and turning to Wallis, he looked at her for the first time. Wallis quickly stifled a gasp as she saw what looked like the outline of a baby’s arm running down the inside of his right leg. In the central sweat patch, the soft material of the overalls showed the outline of a huge vein that looked as thick as Wallis’s smallest finger.
“Lady Wallis, all the men in me family are the same; me father and me four brothers are all the same as me—we are all big.”
“I see, and it looks like you are very fit as well, and very much a real man,” she said in a veiled reference to the swelling in his sweat-laced overalls.
He flushed crimson red, and was lost for words.
“Don’t be embarrassed, you should be happy for such gifts. Are your brothers like you in this area?”
Still flustered, he simply nodded.
“Really, all four are like you?”
Still blushing, he said, “I am the little one—me brothers are all bigger than me.”
For the first time that day, Wallis was genuinely surprised, “Hell.”
She held her left wrist with the thumb and forefinger of her right hand.
“Thicker than this?”
Still red, but now getting excited, he said, “Much bigger than that, Lady Wallis.”
“I think me should leave now, Lady Wallis. I don’t want no trouble.”
She loved a little resistance. It reinforced her total dominance, her sense of power.
“No, you are to stay and answer my questions and to do precisely what I tell you to do, is that clear? You are to do precisely as I tell you to do otherwise there will be trouble for you. And you are to do what I tell you to do, is that clear?” she commanded.
He looked at her and her flushed face and said, “Yes, Lady Wallis. Me do as you command.”
She was now starting to freely lubricate, and she uncrossed her legs and separated her knees six inches. She loved the feeling. She loved the teasing and most of all she loved the power. The summer dress still covered her knees, but the effect was still extremely exciting to the young man as it was now clear to him what this powerful white woman wanted in the quietness and privacy of the cream and sky-blue boat house.
“You know, you are very lucky as most white men are only about half that size.”
He smiled, now lust was finally starting to overpower his nervousness.
“I would not know about that, but me girlfriends all like what me got down there.”
Wallis approved of the plural. And the first mention of his girlfriends meant that Wallis’s seduction was almost complete.
All the time he was facing her, she could see the baby’s arm getting larger and firmer and now the end stood out from the leg of his overalls. Sensing he would feel less nervous if they moved to inside the boat house, she said to him,
“Let’s go inside, I have something I need you to do for me. Actually, I have something you are to do to me.”
He put down his brush and paint pot.
She led him inside and she flopped down into one of the club chairs.
“Go into the toilet and wash your hands and face, then come back here immediately,” she commanded like a captain to the lowest-ranking seaman.
While doing his brief ablutions, she made herself another rum punch, this time mostly rum. And she made him one as well—she wanted to get the young man drunk as she wanted it very rough and he was far too shy a boy to do this to her if he was sober. She wanted to awaken his animal spirits.
He returned to the main room and stood in front of her. The light from the picture window was at her back and shone directly onto the young man. She stared at his little arm, which was now a good ten inches in length. And she let him watch her stare. She loved him seeing her look at him and his native masculinity. It was a crudeness, a rawness as she dominated him with her complete power over him.
“Come over here and drink all this now. It will relax you,” she insisted passing him the rum. “All, now.”
He did as she demanded. He loved the rum but was too frightened to comment.
“And so you are the smaller than your four brothers.”
He nodded.
“Well, that is interesting,” she said offhandedly.
As she later explained to two of her friends, she thought her nipples were about to explode, she was so excited, and she could feel the wetness running down her inner thighs through the sun dress and onto the chair.
She beckoned him with her finger and commanded, “Come over here.”
The young man obliged.
“Now you must never tell anyone about what we are about to do, no one, ever. Is that very, very clear?”
He said it was. Actually, she didn’t really care as the notion was so fantastic that no one would ever have believed him and would have simply discounted it as madness, and she knew it.
With the extended formalities over, and with the young man now standing in front of her, Wallis leaned forward and closed her right hand, extending only her small finger. Very slowly, she moved her finger to within a quarter of an inch to the end of the baby’s arm. The results were precisely what she expected—the end of the little arm suddenly twitched and the material of the soft, white bleached overalls was now taut all the way to the knee. She gasped when she saw that there was a tiny dark spot of wetness on his overalls where the baby’s arm ended. She loved to tease native men and she was so slowly teasing this one, her own contractions were already starting.
Like a nurse to a frightened young boy about to get an injection, she said, “Now just relax,” and then smiling, “This will not hurt.”
Finally, she ran her little finger the full length, stopping at the end. Through the soft material, she could see the outline of a large ridge of skin that ran the circumference, and she teased this. The teasing and the rum combined to generate a deep baritone moan from the young man who took a very deep breath and looked first at her face and then at her nipples.
Wallis continued this teasing for five minutes. At the end of this time, she simply stood and pulled the two straps of the overalls off the young man’s shoulders. The top of the overalls collapsed to his waist, but the baby arm—now huge—stopped the overalls, like a shirt hanging on a nail, or, as she later explained, like a shirt attached to a branch of a young and virile dark sapling. With a little difficulty, she maneuvered the overalls to the floor. He stood there buck naked, the sapling erect. It was huge, black, and there was wetness at the end. She reveled in the size, and thought how she would feel pain. Pain that would excite her like no white man could ever excite her. Edwina, the perfect English lady, had been right—this was like nothing a white man could provide.
In the retelling to her giggling and gasping lady friends, Wallis would say,
“When you’re next at dinner with us, look at David’s arm from the wrist all the way to the elbow. David’s forearm is thinner and smaller than what I saw that day and
what went inside me. And it was all the way inside me. It was huge and so, so hard. And that went all the way inside me—God knows where.”
Free from the constraints of the overalls, the young manhood was almost vertical, extending four inches past his navel.
“I could just barely get the head into my mouth,” she would boast.
“Not only was it very long, it was also very thick—the girth was amazing. I thought I would not be able to take it all, but I wanted as much as I could. I wanted to mix some pain with the pleasure.”
Already, she could taste some of the early cream: oily and deliciously salty.
“Lie on the floor on your back,” she commanded imperiously.
Once on the floor, she straddled him and lifting her skirt with her left hand, she used her right hand to guide herself onto him. In spite of being extremely wet, she had to descend very slowly and actually had to carefully control her breathing to help get the monster inside her. All the while, the young man lay passively on his back and occasionally emitting a moan. At her suggestion, he had closed his eyes. The rum was now starting to relax her and she felt a glorious glow as she lowered herself onto the black Adonis. Further and further she descended and as she did so, she got more and more excited.
For the benefit of both of them she had started to moan and then started animal grunting—the taciturn English lady was now a raw animal with crude desires and she wanted it all the way inside her. From the experience of hundreds of men she knew that a prim and proper lady suddenly reduced to crude animal noises was always the most powerful aphrodisiac—all the middle-class pretense was stripped away as she simply got fucked and fucked very hard from this young, crude animal. As expected, she could feel the young man hardening even more; he was now like a rock. She descended two-thirds of the way but could go no further—she had reached her limit and the sensation of him hitting her inner ceiling was incandescent in the pleasure it sent coursing through her body, and she loved the pain she felt. She had rarely experienced such pleasure. Best of all, she was in complete control. She did not have to be concerned about him completing too early, as she could feel his hardness was strong but there was no signs of pulsating that she knew were the telltale signs of an early completion approaching.
She rose an inch or two to stop him from hitting her limit—it was just too strong a sensation. For minutes she slowly moved up and down, riding the monster belonging to her play thing. And her juices were doing their job. She was still wearing the sun dress, and she had the glorious feeling of being like a real whore with her white dress draping over the young man’s dark black skin. Her sun dress was now sopping wet with her perspiration. She was drenched in her own perspiration and she loved the feeling. She felt young again.
Finally, she decided to reward herself with the ultimate prize, so she lowered herself so the head of his sapling started to again bang on her upper limits. All the time, she kept up a whore’s tirade, and this became louder and more intense as she felt herself starting to contract uncontrollably, and then wave after wave of pleasure. After this first massive climax, she waited for a moment. Her skin felt alive; she squeezed her nipples. But she wanted more. She wanted to feel him dump inside her and dump all that load of crude animal seed inside her.
Until she started squeezing her nipples, she had been riding him holding his two hands for balance. The young man’s hands were massive, and she had intertwined her fingers with his. The sight of her thin white fingers against the against the ebony fingers took her breath away, and she loved the vision of her wedding ring next to his black fingers; like the summer dress, it made her so excited to feel so terribly slutty. And his arms were so strong they did not move at all. She was in complete control.
She rose. She licked the end of him; he moaned.
Next, she put the brown cushion on the corner on the billiard table; she unbuttoned the two shoulder straps so the top of the sun dress now fell to her waist, exposing her small chest and the two hard pebbles. She pulled up her dress and sat on the cushion, her legs dangling over the side of the billiard table, six inches from the floor. She confessed that she would like to claim credit for this position, but, “alas, it was Edwina Mountbatten who told me of her adventures up in Harlem with black musicians in the Twenties.”
“Do it this way, please,” she said. “And I want it rough, please. Very rough, please.”
The young man rose and again slid inside her. She could just get her feet behind the leg of the billiard table, and in this way she was able to brace herself against the young man’s deeper and deeper thrusts. She wanted to take all of it so he was completely inside her. She did not care about the pain. She just wanted it all inside her.
“I have never experienced such a feeling—I thought something was going to rupture inside me,” she would later confess.
The young man’s thrusts were getting stronger and stronger and the sensations were so extreme that Wallis held her hands on each side of her head, as if wracked by a terrible migraine. The sensation was a combination of extreme pleasure mixed with a high degree of pain—pain that was almost, but not quite, too much to take.
With the young man as the active partner, the dynamics changed entirely—she was now the passive partner, out of control and being ravished, deeper and deeper by this exceptionally virile young man. In contrast to her middle-class persona, there was no need for tedious bullshit and clever words, just crude and rough and violent fucking. And she loved it. And the fucking was becoming more strident as she sensed he was getting close to completing again. She looked down and was shocked to see he was all the way inside her. At this sight and with the young man himself starting to pulsate, she had a climax the likes of which she had never had felt before.
As she completed her final climaxing, she felt him to start pumping inside her. And his paroxysm seemed not to end. This made her start all over again. Finally, he finished and withdrew from her body.
The sight of him now just a little flaccid was still exciting. She got up onto her elbows on the billiard table and looked at it. She had seen smaller ones on ponies.
“Help me up, please,” she said.
He helped her stand and as she got to her feet, she felt a gush of his juice squirt out, and then a second spurt came from her—there was now a large puddle beneath her. She got to her feet and promptly collapsed; her legs were their own masters. Slightly embarrassed, she told him to carry her to the couch that looked out on the picture window. She lay there for a very long time. Finally, she swung her legs to the floor and requested him to bring her the bottle of brandy that was located on the small collection of bottles on the bar. With it, he brought her a glass—it took her a moment to have him point to all the glasses in the cabinet until he reached the snifter.
She poured herself a large tot. She marveled at the huge black thing—it was like a black arm of a baby—that had gone all the way inside her.
She sipped her brandy—it was her reward.
“I want to lick it again. Come over here and give me that thing again.”
She put it again in her mouth and as she was doing so, he started to harden again. She was of two minds as to whether to have him penetrate her again. As he hardened, she kept sucking. She had both her hands around it so she could limit his penetration into her mouth. Suddenly, she was surprised as he dumped into her mouth. Amazingly, the second load was almost as great as the first load when she rode him. She simply swallowed and kept swallowing his load, and she extended the juice with some tricks she had first mastered working in Shanghai.
After the huge load, he was finally finished. She had swallowed all of it.
Primly, she sat up straight.
Without further ado, she simply said, “You may go now.”
And remember, “None of this ever happened.”
With a nod, the young man left.
The excitement of being able to command was almost—but not quite—as exciting as the act itself.
After ten minu
tes, she rose and rinsed the sun dress and hung it in the setting sun on the terrace. For the hour it took to dry, she drank two more rum punches and luxuriated in remembering what she had just done. It took another two hours for her to be able to walk, gingerly at first, then more confidently. At dusk, she went for a brief swim followed by a shower at the boat house. For a full seven days she was sore. As expected, David had not demanded any of a husband’s dues, so she could recuperate in peace.
30: The American Admirer
Nassau
Saturday, 7 February 1942
David stood out on the veranda of Government House. The former King of England morosely looked through the sheets of rain that drenched the green lawn that sloped down to the sea. Before the war, there were a few ships he’d see, but now almost all the freighters had been moved to convoys. Today, like so many others days, he simply stared into the empty sea. He was not looking forward to this evening’s dinner—mostly Americans and mostly business talk, which he neither liked nor understood.
The dinner started promptly at eight.
The preceding hour had been spent with cocktails on the veranda and David, true to form, already imbibing too much of his favorite single malt. At dinner, a really delicious Pichon Longueville was served—the 1936, one of David’s favorite years.
After dinner, the men left for cigars and brandy; Wallis entertained the ladies on the veranda.
“I must complement you on such a glorious dinner,” the tall and well-spoken reporter from the New York Herald said.
“Well thank you, Susan. You know it’s a real challenge, what with the war and such, and David is little better than a prisoner here. We’re forbidden to travel, even to New York. And the Bahamas is really a third-class British colony.”
“Yes, it must be truly dreadful,” the American reporter said, dropping into a faux upper-class English accent that she so admired.
Susan and Wallis were left alone as the other ladies had gone inside to escape the chill and damp.
Susan looked directly at Wallis, “Yes, it’s tragic the way things worked out, what with David essentially being deposed by a clique, as it were.”
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