Chapter 2
During the dismal winter in London, Father and I lived together in the big, rambling apartment near the Circus. My life seemed to center on two things-school during the day and the solitude and loneliness of the apartment in the evening. Father spent a lot of time on the road traveling for his company, and I was left alone with the old maid, Constance. By contrast to the summer at Chesterton Manor, it was a considerably dreary life.
Shortly before Christmas, however, the house grew silent, and I awoke one morning to the soft patter of footsteps in the corridor outside my room. There were several people there, and they moved slowly, quietly, almost ghost-like. I leaped out of bed and opened my bedroom door. I burst into tears when I saw what was going on.
Two men were carrying poor dead Constance on a stretcher. Behind them were the doctor and my father, both shaking their heads in sadness
"What happened, Father?" I asked.
He came to me quickly and stood between me and the dead maid, presumably to shield my tender eyes against the horror of death.
"Go back to bed, Louis," he said. "Constance isn't with us any more, poor soul. Heart attack during the night. Don't worry, though. I shall have a neighbor girl in to care for you until we can hire a new maid."
The neighbor girl was a regular lemon, and I spent a dismal three days while father was tied up with company business and the funeral arrangements. On the fourth day, however, he came home at noon with a very lovely woman and a young girl. The woman was Melinda Struthers, and she was our new maid. Because she was a widow and had a twelve-year-old daughter, it was necessary that the daughter live with her wherever she was employed.
My father thought the arrangement ideal, since the girl, whose name was Melody, would be an excellent companion and playmate for me. Ever since the divorce and my return from Chesterton Manor, he had expressed great concern for my lack of companionship with someone my age. This, he reasoned, was the perfect solution.
My experiences with Althea had not made me precocious or, in fact, any less bashful and retiring when it came to girls. With Althea, anything was possible, and I felt right at home pulling down her panties and shoving my cork into her fuzz. Even though I found Melody quite pretty and was entranced by her budding young breasts, it was not my intention to ravage the girl-in fact, the thought crossed my mind briefly and caused me to blush.
While father showed the maid her duties, I took Melody on a brief tour of the huge apartment. When we got to my bedroom, the girl went inside and began to look in every corner and every drawer. She seemed to take great interest in my room and in my things. She actually lifted a pair of my undershorts out of a drawer, inspected them closely, and dropped them back inside.
"Why did you do that?" I asked.
She grinned, and the expression on her face reminded me of Althea.
"I like boys' under things," she said quickly. "Don't you like girls' panties and brassieres?"
If she only knew, I thought. If she only knew that I had worn girl's panties for three whole days last summer!
"I guess so," I said. "I hadn't given it much thought."
"My mother tells me you're thirteen," she said, turning so that I could catch the full silhouette of her firm, high breasts. "Have you ever done anything with a girl?"
I swallowed hard and turned away so that she would not see my face reddening.
"There's no reason to blush," she said. "After all, this is the nineteenth century and has been for more than fifty years. Girls and boys talk about such things these days." , "I don't," I said, looking down at the floor.
She came close to me and deliberately rubbed my upper arm with both her breasts. Her flat belly and groin flattened against my flank, and I felt my tool erecting, rising in small jerks until it was at full tilt. Her hand came around to the front of my trousers, and before I could leap away, she felt the hardness.
"I knew it," she said. "It works on every boy. You're not so nicey-nice as you think, Master Louis Appleby. I'll bet you play with that delightful hard thing when you're alone in this room at night."
I hated her at that moment. I felt like mashing her in the face and telling her to stop talking in such a foul, degrading way. But something else told me to be nice to her. She was pretty, and she had a delightful shape. It had been months since I had entertained my throbbing instrument with anything but my hand, and I began to believe that if her actions were anything like her words, I had another Althea on my hands.
Before I could indicate my willingness to play the game her way, she pulled away and went outside. When I joined her, I had shifted my erect stanchion to a less visible position.
The afternoon dragged slowly, and I noticed that Melody's mother kept looking from me to Melody in a strange way. I wondered if she suspected what had happened in my room-or if she could possibly guess what was going on in my mind. The thought also occurred to me that Melinda, like Aunt Lois, just might be interested in promoting something between Melody and myself. But it was a wild, fleeting thought, and I immediately dismissed it.
Long after the house had gone to bed and the candles had been snuffed out, I heard my door open and felt the presence of someone in the room. I heard the rustling of nightclothes and then heard the creak of a board as someone approached my bed.
"Who's there?" I asked drowsily. "Shhhhh!" the dark figure said. "It's me. Melody."
I sat up, and before I knew what was happening, she was in the bed with me, hugging me, kissing my face, pressing her naked body against me. I grunted from the impact of her body on me and flailed my arms in the darkness. But Melody needed no encouragement. She went directly to the task of rendering me naked. In a very few seconds, my pajamas were on the floor beside the bed and Melody's slim body was under me, her hands groping for my already erecting penis.
"I could tell by the look in your eyes that you wanted me," she whispered as her lips planted innumerable kisses on my face. "I can always tell, and that's why I'm not a virgin. I haven't been a virgin for six months, because I knew when a boy wanted me and I didn't wait for him to get up the nerve to take me. I love to fuck, Louis. Don't you?"
I started to lie, to tell her that I didn't know how, but something possessed me at that moment. I remembered all the nights and wild afternoons with Althea as we screwed in my bed, her bed, the flower garden, the woods, the barn, and everywhere else we happened to be when the urge came upon us. I grabbed the girl's willing body and pushed her legs apart with my knees. I knelt between her quivering legs and after checking her moisture level with my hand, plunged my dong all the way up her furry, tight little pussy.
She was so surprised and shocked by my sudden dramatic behavior that she uttered a tiny cry. I clapped my hand over her mouth with one hand and massaged her hard little tits with the other. She was a delight to the touch and the senses. Her breasts did not have the comfortable bulk that Althea's had, but they incited a great sensuous feeling in me, and I started to screw her like a maniac.
She lay still at first, shocked, then her body responded with the unpracticed ability of all mankind. We copulated like a couple of dogs, panting, grunting, moaning, squealing, ripping at each other without mercy. It wasn't the best I had had, but it was awfully good-partly because she was a strange and new pussy and partly because I had gone so long without pussy after a long summer of delightful practice.
When we were finished and lay exhausted on the bed, she started to get up. I pulled her back.
"Wait," I said. "We were both too eager and ready, and the first one was too-quick. Give me five or ten minutes," I said.
"I'll be too sore," she complained. "You really tore into me, Louis."
"You'll be surprised how ready you can be in a few minutes," I said.
And she was. Before running my thin young lance into her glistening puss, I worked on her for ten minutes until she would have been ready for the Eiffel Tower.
For the next two weeks, we made love at every possible opportunity, but always in my bed. She slept in a two-room suite with her mother and was fearful that her mother would hear us. It was better this way-after we had screwed, I had only to roll over and go to sleep, whereas she had to creep back down the dark corridor and sneak into her own apartment. It was a beautiful arrangement.
But at the end of two weeks, the roof almost caved in on me. I had taken a liking to cigarettes during the long evenings alone in the apartment, when father was off gallivanting over the Continent, and had been regularly snitching them from his cigarette box in the parlor. On a Friday evening in January, I had just taken six from the box and turned to go back to my room, when I saw the maid standing in the doorway.
"Hello," I said innocently, holding the cigarettes behind me.
"What have you in your hand?" she demanded. It was no good to lie, so I showed her the cigarettes.
"How long have you been stealing your father's cigarettes?"
"This is the first time," I lied. "I thought I would like to see what it is like to smoke."
"You are thirteen years old, Louis," she said with a great deal of adult authority in her voice. "You should know better than to steal, and you should know that smoking is very naughty."
"Father smokes."
"He is an adult," she said. "You're just a child."
"Are you going to tell him?"
I knew that the world would collapse if she did. Father was an extremely prudish and strict man when something was wrong. He would be angry with me and would probably punish me with a small whipping. I would not mind the whipping, but my life was too lonely to spare the moments of his anger. I wanted his love and devotion at all times. I needed them.
"Come to my room," she said, "where we can discuss it."
On the way to her suite, she explained that Melody had gone out with a friend and would not be back for a few hours. She led me into her small sitting room, and while she sat on the couch, she had me stand in the center of the room. "Well?" I asked.
"All right," she said. "I have something to say to you. I know that stealing cigarettes is not your only naughty act"
Oh Good Lord, I thought. How could she possibly know about Melody and myself? Or could she? Did she? I decided to volunteer nothing.
"Every day," she continued, "I change the sheets on your bed, and I have noticed that almost every morning there are strange signs."
"Signs?"
"Yes," she said. Her long skirt had been pulled up when she sat, and she allowed her knees to part enough for me to see her white thighs. I felt my small pecker begin to stir. "I think you are doing something in bed at night. Tell me what you do in bed at night, Louis."
Her legs parted more, and I could see the white swath of panties at her crotch. My body began to tremble, and I wondered what she was leading up to. I didn't dare think that she would actually do what I had reason to believe she might do.
"Take off your clothing," she commanded. "I want you to take off your clothing and tell me what you do in bed at night. Better still, show me what you do."
"I don't understand," I said. But I was beginning to. She did not suspect that I had been making love to Melody. She thought I was playing with myself, tossing myself off into the sheets. Such irony, I thought.
Slowly and reluctantly, I removed my clothing. She sat as still as a rock as I did so. When I was completely naked, I looked down and noticed that my penis was only half erected, that it stood out from my body in a drooping arc, like a ripe banana.
"Now," she said, spreading her legs farther apart. "Show me what you do to yourself in bed."
"Please," I said, my body shivering involuntarily, "I'm cold. Can't I put my clothes back on?"
"Would you like for me to tell your father about the cigarettes-and about what you do to yourself in bed at night?"
I lowered my head and said that I would not like for her to tell anyone.
"Come here and kneel down between my knees," she said. I averted my eyes from hers and knelt in front of her. Her knees touched my naked sides under my arms, and she pulled the skirt all the way up to her crotch. She lifted her body from the couch and slid the white panties down in front of me. Lifting one foot at a time, she took off the panties and dropped them on the floor beside me.
Then she really opened her thighs, and I was staring at the biggest, hairiest twat in the entire world. The hairs parted at the center, revealing two great red lips. There was hair everywhere, all the way up to her navel, I guessed.
"This," she said, "is a female sex organ. Your father should be telling you the facts of life, but I guess I shall have to. This big, hairy thing is called many things, but I shall call it a pussy. Have you ever heard that word."
"Yes."
"Have you ever seen one."
"No."
"The purpose of a pussy," she continued, "is to accept that long, slender thing that you have been playing with. In that way, it is beautiful and natural. To frig yourself in your bed at night is naughty. Do you understand?"
By now, my penis was fully erect, and although not very large yet, it felt as big as a telephone pole. She looked down at it and then placed her cool hand on it.
"This is a very pleasant feeling, isn't it."
"Yes."
"It is pleasant when you hold it, isn't it?" I didn't answer.
"But it is far more pleasant and far more natural when you allow a pussy to hold it," she said. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"
I looked at the big, hairy animal before my eyes. I had never seen such a thing, but knowing what it was like inside, I felt my erect tool quiver and throb. I wondered if she would actually let me put my pecker inside that great black monster.
"Now," she said, stroking my penis lightly, "I know that you have been doing two naughty things. Smoking and frigging. I want you to put your little thing inside my big, juicy pussy, Louis. If you don't, I shall be forced to tell your father what you have been doing. However, if you choose to insert your tool into my pussy, I don't want you to mention it to your father. We will both have secrets to keep. What do you wish to do?"
She was not aware of my great desire to do her first bidding, and I decided not to let her become aware of it.
"Must I?" I said.
She let go of my pecker and .ay back on the couch. She pulled her long skirts up over her hips and exposed her white thighs, with their black garters, to me. I swallowed hard and wished that she would take off her clothes so that I could lounge in the luxury of her enormous tits.
"You must," she said, spreading her legs for me to see the great gap of her pussy. "Now, let's get on with it in case Melody decides to come back early."
Pretending great reluctance, I climbed aboard. I nad long since lost my self-consciousness, and I immediately guided my aching instrument into the opening of her twat. She clucked her tongue and chastised me.
"My, my, dear child," she said. "It is easy to see that you are, indeed, virgin soil. You never plunge directly into a pussy without first preparing it for your giant machine. You must kiss me and fondle my breasts and perhaps insert a finger or two into it."
She pulled me against her huge bosom, and her wet lips found mine. I pressed my lips together, pretending that I did not even know how to kiss. She pushed them apart with her tongue, and quite soon I was kissing her with a semblance of knowledge about the act.
"That's better," she said. "Now, slip your hands under my dress and find my titties. Pinch the nipples lightly, now, and try to get them to erect for you."
"Wouldn't it be better if you took off your clothes?" I asked. I knew I was flirting with danger, but it was terribly awkward making love to her with so many clothes about, and I did so want to feel the smooth flesh of her big tits on my hands and my thin chest. Who knew what it could lead to-perhaps I might even be able to put my slim pecker between the great breasts and shoot into her face when it was time.
"My, you're a cheeky boy, once you get started," she said. But the smile told me she would do as I suggested and that see was happy that I had suggested it. With a few deft movements, she slipped out of her dress, her corset, her brassiere, and her stockings and garter belt. I sat on the end of the couch contemplating my throbbing cork as she disrobed.
"Now," she said, flopping back on the couch and spreading her legs again, "let's see how good a lover you are, my young sprout. See if you can get me aroused."
I fell across her heavy body, marveling at the size of her nipples. They were almost as big as Melody's entire tits, and my hand could scarcely cover one of them. I buried one hand in one of her tits and clasped the other one over her huge mount. My middle finger slipped into the slippery hole and virtually lost itself in the folds of her cunny. She began to breathe more heavily, and her wet lips kissed my face in a flurry of passionate acts that threatened to drown me.
Although the kisses were dimming my ardor a bit, I concentrated on her tits and her pussy and was soon at full tilt again. When her puss was quite moist, I hastened to get into position again.
"Now you're doing it right," she said. Her hands grasped my animal and thrust him into her hole. I dropped heavily and seemed to hit bottom without touching the sides of her puss. She groaned and moaned and pretended that I was half lolling her. I decided to teach her a small lesson.
When I withdrew, I shifted my buttocks slightly off kilter and literally drove in at an angle. The tip of my dork raked along one side of her puss, while the other side of my dork pressed brutally against the opposite side of her vagina. She bucked and cried out and called for more.
I was not capable of many more such plunges and soon found myself screwing her in an almost normal fashion. She compressed the muscles in her pussy and began to grip my slim tiger in a most delightful fashion.
This activity continued, sending a tremendous fusillade of sensation all through my body. Every touch of her body on me caused me to quiver, and I was enjoying even the most minute of pleasures. Some unknown force guided me, and no sooner had I taken a dozen strokes than we were both gasping in breathless delight, with her providing the majority of the vigor.
When I felt the end drawing near, I did nothing to deter its coming, because I wanted the episode to draw to a close. There was something about her body and her manner that was gross, and in spite of the tremendous sensations of pleasure that shot through my body, I was not enjoying it half as much as I had with Melody-or with Althea.
In a savage burst that nearly drove us both into a frenzy, I jerked into an orgasm inside her. She was hot from being without sex for a long time, and her orgasm coincided with mine. I could tell from the way she nearly squeezed the life out of me with her fat, strong thighs.
She wasted no time in pushing me from her after it was over. She turned her face from me as I stood before her, my still-erect penis dripping with our spendings.
"You are truly a naughty boy," she said. "Get dressed quickly and go to your room. I don't want to see you until tomorrow. And don't you ever say anything about this to anybody. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I dressed quickly and, my penis still hard, walked to the door and opened it.
"One more thing, Louis," she said, looking up at me from the couch where she still sat naked, her huge breasts resting against her stomach.
"Yes?"
"Don't play with yourself tonight in bed," she said, looking away. "Save it for me. I shall want to see you in my suite at this same time tomorrow night. I shall send Melody on an errand, and we will have to be quick. You must come tomorrow night."
"Yes, ma'am."
I left the room in sheer panic. As I ran down the corridor to my own room, I felt a deep sense of great loathing for the woman and knew that I would not go back the following night. I would never go back to the heavy, sloppy, big-cunted old bitch. I would tell my father everything first.
But I went back. Night after night, I went back and fucked the hungry woman and every night after doing it to her, I screwed Melody when she crept into my bed. And this went on for almost a year.
In the middle or my next term at school, however, Melinda became quite ill with pneumonia. Her fever shot up to 105, and Father stayed home from a business trip to the Continent to watch after her. I shall never forget the feeling of horror I felt when, on the evening she died, I was standing in the corridor outside her room and heard her hoarse voice cry out in her delirium.
"Do it, Louis," the fever-crazed woman was saying. "Take that little pecker of yours and shove it up me good. That's it, Louis Appleby, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"
I ran. I left the house and slept all night under the bushes outside the apartment building. Father found me before dawn the next morning and carried me up to my bed. Although I awoke when he lifted me from the bushes, I kept my eyes closed and pretended to be sound asleep.
He placed me in my bed and stood looking down at me. I squinted through nearly closed lids and saw his dark silhouette, his head shaking sadly from side to side.
"You poor boy," he said in the quiet darkness. "What was that horrible woman doing to you? My God, I shall never know how depraved she was."