Chapter 6
The years that followed were extremely good to me. Audrey had her baby-a strapping boy whom we called Sidney-and two more after that. Besides that, Eclair, Linda, and Ellen all had children by me in the next few years after my first child was born to Audrey.
As my extra family grew, I moved them into larger and larger flats until it began to look as though I were running a children's home. In spite of the growing secret family and my fine little harem, my yearnings took me to more and more fields for new, strange, and exciting pussy.
Using my business as an excuse to spend more and more time away from home, I took a small flat right off Piccadilly Circus, and walking the streets there one Saturday night, I met Beth. Beth was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in my entire life. She had long blonde hair that came down to her buttocks when she combed it out. She had the deepest, bluest, most penetrating eyes I had ever seen. And the softest lips and most beautiful pink breasts in the entire world.
She was keenly attracted to older men, and my great shock of gray hair helped make me especially attractive to her. She came with me to the flat without the slightest hesitation.
"This first time," she said, "please let's not go all the way. You can do anything else you wish, but let's save the real thing until the next time."
"When will the next time be?"
"Soon," she said. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me gently on the lips. I swept the girl into my arms, and we kissed passionately. I put her on the bed and stared down at her fawn-like, ethereal beauty.
"You make it very difficult for me to promise what you ask," I said. "You are a most precious and desirable child, Beth. My impulses tell me to ravage you as you lie there on the bed, but I promise that it won't happen tonight."
She took me into her arms, and we kissed for a long moment. Then, slowly and deliciously, I removed her clothing, article by article, until she lay naked and vulnerable on the bed. When I had removed my own clothing, she stared at the gray hairs at my pubus and lost no time bringing me to full erection with her soft hands. Then she took me into her mouth, and while I sucked and kissed and tongued her sweet, young virgin slit, she worked on me like an expert.
"I'm coming," I warned when I felt the old familiar juices boiling in my groin.
She stayed with me and hungrily took all of my wicked ejaculation into her small mouth. She sucked the last drop from my softening pecker, and I knew that no other girl in the world would do this for a man of my age.
Within two months, though, I developed a tremendous drive to try someone else. Only occasionally did I visit the huge flat on Beachcomber Road where my harem and many children lived. Even less occasionally did I visit Althea, who now lived almost alone in a small flat in the same apartment building we had called home for so many years. Nancy had long ago married and moved to Kent, where her family had grown to seven.
One day in the autumn of the year I went out of the small float near the Circus in search of some new playmate. Beth was home with her parents, expecting my child, and I had no inclination to go home or to the large madhouse flat where my children lived with their mothers. Yet I was lonely.
Once again, the gay life of the Circus helped me. As I stood on the corner, watching the noisy automobiles drive crazily past, the small dark-haired girl came out of the shadows and tugged at my sleeve.
"Please, old man," she said in a sweet, high-pitched voice. "Could you be lending me a helping hand?"
I shifted my cane to my left hand and looked down at the lovely child. She had wide black eyes, a straight nose, and a very full, lovely mouth.
"Certainly, child," I said. "What can I do for you?"
"Can I have a shilling for bread."
"Where do you live?"
She started to back away, but I smiled at her and told her to stay.
"You look hungry," I said. "What is your name?"
"Elise," she said. "And I am hungry. I haven't eaten since breakfast, and that was only a small piece of toast."
I took Elise to a restaurant and watched her devour a grand helping of pot roast with all the trimmings. Then, without a word, I led her to my small flat. She looked at me with knowing eyes, and I knew that she was not only aware of what I desired, but quite willing to provide it. It was uncanny, I thought, how many young girls there were in the world who were fond-sexually fond-of old men.
When we were naked, I sat on the bed while Elise took my flaccid machine into her tiny hands. She worked on it for the better part of five minutes and managed to bring it to a semi-hardness that was not quite sufficient. I cupped her fine young breasts from behind as she worked on me, and kissed the soft down on her neck.
But the blasted blighter would not arise to full glory until the girl bent over me and took the knob into her mouth. After a few quick lashes with her tongue, the creature reared his great head and throbbed with its old familiar rigidity.
"Let's hurry, Elise," I said as I pushed her back onto the bed. "Speed is of the essence for a man of my age."
"You're not so old," she said. "I love you, Louis, and you're not old."
I made love to the girl in the old grand manner. I showered her body with kisses as my now erect tool rammed slowly but surely into the tight crevice of her virgin pussy. When I was all the way in, she gasped and thrashed about on the bed as though I were a young buck half killing her. She rose to me, stroke for stroke, and she came so quickly that I became concerned that I might not come at all.
On and on I screwed the willing lass until, after fifteen minutes of steady humping, my spunk dribbled out into the tight little love channel. I was so embarrassed by my pitiful performance that I gave the child twenty pounds and sent her on her way. I never saw her again.
I knew that my days were numbered now. I had lived a long life Of pleasure, and I knew that I had now only to wait for the Grim Reaper. And yet, the yearnings were there, strong and vital and clear. It was inconceivable to me that a man could have such strong and almost unbearable urges and not possess the ability to satisfy them.
In the ensuing years, I began to live more and more to myself. I had long since retired from business with an extremely comfortable pension, plus my savings, which brought me several thousand pounds a year in interest. As the years passed and my yearnings continued, I went in search of various means to revive my fine edge of virility.
It would have been an extreme joy to me to be able once more to ravage a fine young lass whose body was full of the vibrancy and joy of youth. I would have given my entire fortune to be able to enjoy a screw the way I had enjoyed almost all of them during my lifetime. I tried the artificial devices that were supposed to allow entry by a soft instrument-on the premise that, once inside, the instrument itself would enlarge.
To use this device, I found Laura in Battersea Park as she walked home from school-the same school that Audrey had attended so many years before. I took her to my empty flat in the nearby apartment building. Althea had long since passed away, and I was quite alone. All my girls had eventually married and had moved from the large flat.
Laura was not frightened of me, although I fell down in the bedroom several times as I tried to undress myself. Finally, the quick young lass undressed me and lay naked on the bed for me to try the new device. It was one of those semi-rigid plastic devices, and it worked grandly, I must report. Once I was inside the girl and her lips were kissing my face and neck, my charger erected mightily, and after twenty minutes, I felt a minor explosion in my loins and knew that I had enjoyed a tremendous orgasm. The best part, of course, was that Laura was also satisfied. When she left, she agreed to return the following week so that we could try again.
She never returned, and I began to spend more and more time in the small flat, sitting in the parlor in my rocking chair and staring out at Battersea Park, which was now filled with shiny, sleek, horn-blowing automobiles. I sat there year after year, waiting for death that never seemed to come.
In the next several years, I received word from time to time about my girls and my children. Audrey and Eclair were the first to go. They died quietly in their sleep. Then I received word that Sidney had been killed in a war somewhere-God, I don't even know where. I think he was with a United Nations force somewhere and a mine exploded.
I attended the funerals of Ellen and Linda and Priscilla. Shawn Wai had long since gone back to China, and little Lolly was murdered in a tavern row in Soho. She was too old and feeble to get out of the way when robbers came in, and one of them cut her down with a switchblade knife.
And that is the way my empire crumbled. And yet death would not come. I sat in the rocking chair and looked out at the park. Every morning, Hilda came to clean up the apartment and to cook my meals. She sometimes stayed the night, and I would lie in my bed, thinking about her lovely body in the next bedroom, and wish that my cork would arouse itself from its lethargy so that I could ravage her. She was not very young-perhaps forty or so-but I was in no condition to be particular. I would have taken her in a minute.
Each afternoon, now, I sit in the rocking chair and look out at the park as the young schoolgirls come prancing across on their way to their homes. Once in a while, there is a brief stirring in my loins as a particularly choice one comes by. Always there is the deep longing and finely tuned yearnings for one of their young bodies.
But that, I know, is all behind me now. Only last week, the young fellow from The Times came to see me about a story. It seems that I am something of a celebrity because of my age. I shall never forget his most impertinent question.
"Tell me, old man," he said, smiling a little impishly as he spoke, "I think perhaps our readers might like to know the answer which you apparently have found."
"And what answer is that, young man?" I asked.
"Well," he said, "you're the oldest man in England, Mr. Appleby. After all, a hundred and fifteen is nothing to be sneezed at. Can you tell my readers the secret of long life?"
"There's no secret, young man," I said. "No secret at all."
"Well, you must have done something right in your life to be able to live so long. Don't you have any advice for young people who might want to live this long?"
"First off, young fellow," I said, looking him squarely in the eyes, "I don't know why in hell anybody would ever want to live this long. But if they must, here is what they must do ... . " I paused purposely and watched the young man as he shifted forward in his chair.
"Yes?" he said. "You were going to say?"
"I was going to say," I said, pulling my shawl more tightly over my shoulders to ward off the chill of the crisp autumn day, "that you can bloody well go fuck yourself. And so can your goddamn readers."
He left shortly thereafter, probably because I fell asleep in the chair and hefty old Hilda made him leave. But when she came back from letting him out and chastised me for using such foul language in front of the press, I looked up at her big tits and wide hips and said, "Take those clothes off, my good woman, and I'll show you the secret of long life."
God, I wanted that woman, even if she was a trifle old.