Chapter 3
I like to wander in the midst of the shopping crowd. The crowd had an optimism about it that appeals to me.
And there is nothing that excites the desire as much as the optimism and joy of life. When I walk in the vicinity of Piccadilly, I can feel all the vibrations of the passing crowd and I admire the well-dressed men and women who pass my by. I often ask myself if any of them are going to a love appointment. I often hope that this may be true.
What a splendid agitation. Everyone of the young and spruce dapper men could be a lover if he so desired. Many times I am the target of their choosing.
Certain ones pass me and merely look me up and down, others those who are more brave, exchange a few words. I don't like being talked to in the streets. There is something annoying about being accosted in the streets. One is taken by surprise and the reaction is rather troublesome. I have been left disarmed and nervous by this rude treatment which men find amusing.
A strange adventure happened to me along this order.
Two days after the departure of Gino from the hospital, I had just walked out of a film at about midnight. In the bus which takes me home, there remaied only the conductor and an old bum. At the next station, an elegant man of a ripe ege, he already had white hair and blue eyes which paled a bit, took a seat opposite me.
I ignored him completely although he appeared *o be well-dressed and had a fine touch of dignity about him.
I did not even notice that he exchanged his seat and came across the aisle to sit by me. Suddenly I felt his knees against mine. I looked up and saw an impassive face and the man kept the same distant look he had when he first entered the bus. I felt that my imagination was playing tricks on me. His age was in his favor.
I did not move and I must admit that I was curious to see just to what degree this would go. It did not take me long to discover just how far he wanted to go.
All at once, I felt a hand promenade along my calf. I still remained silent and unflinching. His fingers squeezed into my flesh and started to creep up higher to my thighs. Instinctively I brought my thighs together. Our childhood education remains with us for a long time.
I didn't dare look at my fellow passenger because I didn't want to startle him at that point. In order to not set him back in his brazen exploit, I loosened my knees a little.
However, under his stiff appearance, a strong will evidently was working with all its force.
He turned his imprisoned hand in such a way that I was forced to separate my legs. Then with amazing dexterity his hand slipped underneath my panties.
His palm gave me an excitement which I had not had since my encounter with the striking Italian. His fingers worked with art and he found my hairs and the lips of my crack. He had found my erotic zones and I could not resist his handling of me. His superb manner had me asking for more caresses and I enjoyed every passing minute.
For a long time I have taken up the habit of satisfying my slightest whim, blocking off any moral thoughts which might prevent me. I don't know if this is wise and whether it is to my advantage or not.
My neighbor was remaining tranquil and was looking straight ahead as though he was ignoring me entirely. But his finger had gained the aperture of mjj sex already.
His subtle finger was not long enough to thoroughly excite me.
I tightened my teeth, shaking with the sexual thrill of being invaded by a manipulating finger. The bus didj not stop at all for there was no one at that hour who was in need of it. All the better.
My bus companion was not content with the rapporl he was having with me and seemed to wish to transgress further. All men are alike; they want more' and more. I have to admit it, that is probably what gives them their charm. With his free hand, he started from my shoulder down to the left breast and over to the right one.
Then he slid his soft hand to my wrist and took itj gently and placed it over his bulging pants where his dick was trying to break through. He even had to] cover this area with his vest so as to avoid a possible scene. His prudence was measured and skillful.
I was asking myself why I hadn't gotten angry.
This man had startled me and yet pleased me like no other had before. It was his assurance and detachment which won me over. He desired me, that was all and I believe that night my desires were particularly flourishing.
His eyes were avoiding mine and he treated me as an object. Letting go of my wrist for a moment, he unbuttoned his trousers. And all the time his active had was burying itself in my pussy.
He gave me some unforgettable sensations and I had to recognize this man as an artist. After the brutality of Gino I gave myself willingly to this expert and trembled with desire.
I was not only magnetized by my traveling friend, but completely out of my head because of the unaccustomed situation I was thrown into. With a certain impatience, my fingers felt through his pants. My palm reached his mound of flesh,which sprung to the surface. My neighbor's vest hung sufficiently low to hide all this. His penis was long and thick and did not fall into the category of the exceptional ones. It was just average.
I had already been screwed by more powerful pricks and even recently with Gino, I had been at the service of a necker that one could call massive. But But my fellow passenger had other things. He could be called elegant with a certain distinction. He was quite well-made and everything about him was impeccable. This man had the true bearing of a fine artist.
I could not prevent myself from caressing his sex. Even if I had wanted to put it back in his trousers, I don't think he would have let me.
My fingers tingled up. and down his member and I wanted to return pleasure for pleasure. And still he reacted as though I were not at all there. Was this his way of showing disgust for me? I wished to believe that he was simply intimidated by my presence and did not want to be startled by a possible clumsy reaction.
We were engaged in exciting each other and giving over our joy to one another, when the bus stopped.
Some one got on and the bus started off once again.
Without losing his dignity, my partner took his penis from my palpitating hand and placed it back into his trousers. At the same time he dislodged his hand from my sex. He lowered his vest and took the air of one who is just reminiscing. We both assumed an innocent look. It was apparent that neither of us wanted to be caught in this common way.
However I remained not quite satisfied and my desires tormented my body. And he certainly must have felt the same thing. It was he who took the initiative.
I saw him lean toward me and with his eyes burning with voluptuousness he murmured with a contracted smile.
" Let's get off at the next stop.''
Then he got up and walked to the front of the bus. He did this before I could weigh my thoughts and as though he were absolutely sure of knowing what my reaction would be. He was right. But I was obeying my desire more than the actual order.
The bus came to a halt and we descended. He took my arm in normal fashion and as we walked he didn't say a word. It was strange, for this type of silence can be very irritating especially with a total stranger. I tried to reason and find out why his attitude had been like this. He was treating me like a whore. I could understand and then all of a sudden I became intrigued by this new role. He would possess me with indifference and I would know the feelings of a prostitute.
The street was illuminated by one street lamp only. I was in a dreamy mood and I couldn't tell exactly where I was.
"This way," he said in a whisper indicating a hidden dark corner.
We turned into a square. A little ways off we could see a house with an alleyway. At that moment I was startled to find myself in such a setting with a stranger such as the refined gentleman beside me.
But I wasn't afraid. His dress, his habits and his attitude had won me over, and I felt completely relaxed and yet excited.
In the little alleyway, he presented himself and for the first time I was able to see his face. The only thing that I remember ~^ere his burning eyes. Then he leaned toward my siioulder and said:
"I have a great desire for you," as he spoke his hands wandered over my shoulders and breasts.
Even at the height of excitation, he never became brutal. He held me tightly but did not in any way hurt me. I kissed him first on the cheeks and then lightly on his lips. His lips were looking elsewhere. They slid to my neck and his fingers were calmly unbuttoning my blouse. Shivers went up and down my spine. I never wear a bra for my breasts stick straight out and even impudently so. He caressed my breasts and then his face descended down toward the nipples. He nibbled at the stiff points and once again I was consumed with chills.
I have very sensitive breasts; the slightest caresses on my bust cause me to tremble with thoughts of love.
My partner knew how to cup my titties. I even had the impression that they were made for him and that he had an enormous amount of pleasure in fondling them. When his hands went down to my thighs, they remained for a few minutes on my hips, feeling my panties which were tight and silken. He rubbed my thighs lovingly and then his fingers crept upward to my clitoris. I stretched out in a favorable position and I remember that 1 was extremely happy to be there and in that manner.
He laid me down tenderly and raised my skirt to better see my fleece and lower belly. I bit my lip when his finger entered my pussy.
Instinctively my hands searched in the dark for the bulge in his pants. When I found it, I unzipped him with haste and took the joy stick out of its prison.
I gripped it in both hands. Sighing and twisting, I needed it badly and I wanted him to penetrate me.
I spread my legs apart to faciliate the oncoming act. He understood what I wished, but instead of helping me he backed away.
"No, I want you from behind."
I must have shown signs of surprise, for my mouth seemed to drop. I marvelled at his audacity. I had already been taken from behind, but never at the very first time. My lovers always had the delicacy to take me in the usual positions and then work around.
I was too perplexed to respond.
At that point, how could I have refused any request. Besides my companion did not let me make my mind. He took me by my hips and turned me around to the desired position.
I presented him my rump. The scene amused my comical sense. I suddenly had the impression that I was playing some kind of game with him. It seemed as though he was going to ride a pony and that pony would be me.
<i
I felt him take off my slip and roll it down over my thighs. My ass was waving in the night air. My gallant one lowered himself to survey the situation. A finger which slid into my anal hole made me bounce up. His caresses began to multiply and they became more agreeable and wetter.
He licked my behind. He knew how to do this with a superb touch of his fine hot tongue. He even entered my ass-hole with his talented tongue. I would have never believed that a tongue could go so far in.
If my friend had a cock of only average dimension, his tongue made up for it. Besides his maneuvering flattered me. First he was indifferent, that was in the tram and now he was at my rear paying me homage in the strangest way.
He must have been on of those rare individuals who did what he liked to do and when it pleased him. I had to admire this for I wanted to do this very same thing all my life and have only partially succeeded.
I was puffing with pleasure and breathing hard.
"Ah, how well you know how to please me."
His tongue reached in and out. I wanted more. My temperament leaned toward the thoughts of brutalization and I wanted something strong and penetrating.
"Give me something huge, my love," I lured him on.
I had forgotten that I had seen him for the first time in my life only an half-hour ago and yet I was calling him my love. How ambiguous and how odd are our attitudes toward this thing we call love.
"Come, darling, take me with your sex. I beg you to do so. I am dying with desire," I offered.
In order to hasten his decision, I decided to excite him with some dirty sentences for I know how sensitive men are to this type of language.
"Come in me, open with your big prick in my hot ass.. I can no longer hold back... Stick me with your love cock."
I even pushed myself forward to release his tongue. His hands gripped my hips and I was in a hurry to feel his intrument penetrate. I was shaking with delight.
Finally his member circled my hairy cunt and there it was, the wonderful dick of man which would fill me with hope and fear. I knew that this monstrous thing could bring me the desire and pleasure I so ardently desired.
I could feel his fingers opening my ass-hole in order to get the tip of his cock in. My whole ass seemed to be aflame. I wasn't in the habit of being stuck by such a good-sized penis especially in my ass-hole.
"You're going to rip me open," I said hoping this would take effect.
But little by little we passed from sufferance to sufferance in this act of penetrating my flowering derriere. It wasn't long that his dong pushed to the very bottom and I had the impression that I was being invaded by a celestial delight. I did not know when it was going to end, this excellent creeping thick snake.
I was so well taken by my lover that one could only say, although it is vulgarly put, that T was admirably screwed in the ass. Never could I have thought in my wildest dreams that this form could bring in such delightful sensations.
The first time out I was taken from behind. What a pleasant suprise. It is quite true that a woman wants to be dominated by a man, completely destroyed by him.
Screwed in the ass, I had seen myself conquered, incapable of the slightest resistance.
The normal position brings two people together, unites their common love bond, but the position from behind is depersonalized and one had the impression of being denied by the other.
This second idea can be as exciting as the first. Where the first position is modest and shameful the second is perverse and skillfully performed. The second way cannot be seen by either partner, each one recieves his own degree of pleasure in his own personal way. Perverse because it is unusual and strikes everyone as being egotistically original. After all, man has names for all things. Perhaps the first way could also be deemed as perverse, depending on one's experience and outlook.
It is only now I can tell about the pleasure I had. But when I was in its throes, I was living the folly and scandal of a debauchee. I gave into his character happily.
While he was pumping away, he gripped my hips and pressed his prick deeper within me. His joy must have been immense, for he groaned with happiness at each heavy thrust.
He shouted a few incoherent words between his clenched teeth. He breathed hard and I could feel his testicles press up against my bare bottom. They seemed to beat a rhythm everytime he would seek to plunge his dick to the bottom of my apricot.
His fine stick made me shake and cry with emotion. My flesh was hot and like a flame that was encircling his log. His muscle was giving me form in the same way a transparent vase is formed by a glass blower.
I was only a mass of incoherent human melody. He was playing his clarinet within me. He was working me over with a terrible fury. He encouraged me as well as he insulted me, and he foamed like a bitch in heat.
"I am going to come, you whore," he murmured in his rage. "You are going to kill me, I can't hold back any longer you filthy bitch."
It seemed as though he was holding me responsible for the storm that was over taking him. I was no longer his victim, but now, for him, I became his executioner. He was receiving his just punishment and what a delightful way to die that was.
I remained there with his large cock embedded in my stretched-out ass-hole. I wanted to drink everything in and I waited attentively.
"You dirty bitch," he whistled. "Do something. Answer back." he commanded.
I was accustomed to his plowed sex and the moment he attacked me I began to buck like a bronco. He wanted to hasten his orgasm.
I obeyed him and his prick pushed in deeper to my thrusts and he slipped into the dark mystery of my anal region. I had to bit my lip for he was taking every inch of me.
I puffed and puffed and I felt my kettle of hot blood boil, approaching the red-hot climax.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" my lover informed me. And then he turned and was gripped by a cramp of delight and let out a horrible moan which he declared to the night.
Right at that moment I didn't feel a thing, and then uddenly a spurt of sperm flowed within. I felt the gelatinous fluid leap in my pussy by little jets and then roll down my thighs.
This is what I needed to increase my voluptuous urgings. I had thought of how each day I carefully clean this rear region and take special pains in its propriety. And now it was being flooded with some mysterious juice. This disgusting sticky substance would enable me to gain vengeance and mock social habits to its just degree.
The pleasure of this obscene act excited me to such A high pitch that I attained my orgasm. I groaned and tossed in the raging storm that was gripping me.
1 sensed a hundred throbbing delights and the night invaded me and cooled my ecstasy after a few minutes.
Behind me, my night companion was wiping his dick off with his handkerchief. In order to establish a tie i politely asked him if he could pass his handkerchief over to me.
He looked me over as though he were seeing me for the first time. Now that he had returned to reality, he must have thought that he was looking at another girl and not the one that he accosted in the bus.
He smiled and handed me his sperm-wet handkerchief. I don't like those minutes right after the love act. For men have no desire for women after their pleasure and they often feel disgusted and blame the women for their low feeling.
Since we were still feeling the marvelous sensations of the night, my friend took the trouble to be considerate. He was interested in the condition of my cheeks and inspected this area with keen concern.
Slowly my heat cooled off, and I realized that I was with a complete stranger. I looked into his face and at his graying hair. I noticed that his eyes no longer shone with wild delight but were now blue metallic cold steel.
I put on my slip which had flown in the air during our stormy interlude. Deep down, I felt amused by this odd adventure, but I could not discover what he was feeling. His face had no expression which would give me a clue.
We left the area and it was a little afterwards that I learned the name of my ex-lover. He was called George Monk and he was a writer. He introduced himself in a rather original fashion. Presenting first of all his cock instead of his visiting card. I guessed that what would be our next move together would not be devoid of a certain amount of humor.
"What I like about you is that you're very natural and spontaneous," he flattered me. "You're not the kind that holds back. You follow your own inclinations, your own desires. You are above the stupid morality of the crowd. I must admit that you have given me a great deal of pleasure and I thank you for it."
We were walking across a bridge and the wind blew up my skirt.
My night companion was not telling me anything that I did not already know. We were of the same type and he did not need to congratulate my libertinism. But Mr. Monk did not only have a seductive voice but he was gifted with soft talented lips. He seemed to have had a great deal of experience and he related some wild and fantastic events that he had lived. His charm as well as his intellect was captivating, but it could not equal his talent as a lover. I had known this from my own experience.