THE ALTAR OF VENUS: The Making of a Victorian Rake Page 2

  She stood this curious treatment for a few moments and then pushing me away from her, she sat up.

  "Silly! That isn't the way! You have to make it go in!"

  Without waiting for apologies, she extended her body out again on the sand, took my cock between her fingers, got the tip of it inserted and started in the right direction, and with a sudden upward heave secured its complete intromission. Guided by instinct I raised and lowered my hips in unison with the undulating movements she imparted on her own. The friction of her hot little genitals and their moist embrace as they clung to and sucked at my cock brought the natural reaction, and as the preliminary tremors of ecstasy began to make themselves felt, I accelerated my movements. And with the acceleration the pleasure intensified. Frantically I worked my cock in and out of the tight, wet little lips which clung on it so caressingly.

  Ah, if I could live them over again I would draw those happy moments into hours of delight, extending and prolonging each precious, celestial second into indefinite lengths. But alas, I knew nothing of the principles of conserving energy or scientific methods of prolonging to its utmost the all too fleeting pleasure and thought only to reach culmination, divine instant as quickly as possible.

  Just as I was trembling on the verge of a sterile but sweet deliciously sweet orgasm, her legs flashed up and engaged themselves tightly about my body, and from her lips emerged a series of exclamations which testified to the measure of her own sensations. She clung to me for a moment then her arms relaxed their grip about my neck. She disengaged her legs from my body and lay back upon the sand. There was an expression on her face, as she eyed me covertly from under half-closed lids, which denoted something of surprise as well as satisfaction.

  We got up a few minutes later and I took a final look at the little bisected "V" at the base of her stomach which had provided me with what would probably be the tenderest memory of my life. In silence she replaced her panties, smoothed out her clothes and stood waiting for me to finish dressing. Then, when we were ready to leave, she snuggled her hand into mine, glanced shyly at me and murmured:

  "Gee, it felt nice, didn't it?"

  That night as I lay awake reviewing the momentous event I suddenly remembered that despite all the castles in the air I had built up in my imagination around just such an occasion, I had not kissed her when the opportunity was at hand. No, not a single kiss or caress of any nature aside from the copulation itself. Nor had I scarcely more than touched with my fingers that seductive and mysterious little cleft. And part of my complacency changed to chagrin as I realized all I had missed by my silly bashfulness.

  From that day on my character began to undergo a change. My shyness and reticence fell away and while at certain times it returned to plague me temporarily, I was generally bold and venturesome whenever I had the slightest reason to think I knew my ground.

  My next rendezvous with Flora was effected through my own initiative. Our relative positions changed and it was I who assumed leadership. Her manner toward me was respectful, submissive, as if in a certain sense she belonged to me, and this time I put into execution every fancy my inexperienced mind could conceive. I petted, caressed, fondled and handled her to my heart's content. I made a close ocular examination of the mysterious domain between her plum, white little thighs. I even ventured to explore the interior depths with an inquisitive finger. To all this manipulation she submitted patiently, apparently gratified at my interest. When I had looked, handled and caressed my fill, I placed myself between her outstretched thighs, and without any false movements this time, got my cock into her, and handled it to such good effect that were both soon gasping with pleasure.

  After this I progressed rapidly. Not to be outdone by other boys who boasted of many conquests I began to make advances to other little girls, and was amazed at the facility with which I obtained their complaisance. Some indeed repulsed me – there were girls like that – foolish little things, who wouldn't know what was good for them – but there were plenty of others, and so I mentally consigned the obstinate ones to the dark regions, and devoted my attentions to those who were amenable to reason. Flora herself presented a little friend who blushingly confessed to desire to "try it" once. To my mystification, an intact hyman in this instance obstructed a successful demonstration and in my ignorance of feminine physiology I attributed the failure to a sad defect in her little body – she had been born without a hole! I had yet to learn that maidenheads were at a premium.

  A boy friend confided that he had "done it" with his sister, aged twelve.

  "We got playing up in the hay loft in the barn and I got down and looked at her cunny. Then she wanted t look at mine, and so I let her. Then I told her she had to do it with me. She didn't want to, but I made her. Now we sneak up there and do it lots."

  The girl in question was such a sedate quiet miss that I was astonished and really doubted the truth of the story, but it aroused my lubricity and I asked him if he would get her to do it with me too. He said he would, and his efforts as an "ambassador" of love in my behalf were so successful that an agreement was promptly arrived at. Upon an alter of sweet scented hay, under the dusty rafters of the old barn, the blushing, but willing victim of this libidinous sacrifice to Venus was offered up. Sans panties, and with dress up she permitted me to take my place between her outstretched legs and drain the cup of love while her young brother looked on complacently. When I had finished he quickly took my place, and without undue embarrassment at my presence, inserted his small cigar shaped cock in her and gave her a second work out.

  The next day she communicated to me by means of a note surreptitiously slipped into my hand at recess that if I would wait for her after school at a certain place we could "do that again that we did yesterday."

  Another little youngster of nine or ten, a veritable Messalina in the budding, conceded her favors to four of us en masse. In the basement of the deserted schoolhouse, to which we gained access through an unlatched window one Saturday afternoon, she stripped off both panties and dress for our edification, and one by one, untroubled by an excess of spectators or hygienic considerations, we took turns in prodding her with our small but rigid little cocks.

  According to orthodox theories these little girls were all on the road to inevitable ruin if not already there. Yet to my personal knowledge with respect to several of them, they grew up, married and lived normal and respectable lives. One indeed who had been particularly liberal with her favors – I doubt if there was a boy in the entire neighborhood for whom she hadn't removed her panties at least once – I met some sixteen years later. At first I failed to recognize in the modest, well-dressed young matron and mother of a beautiful child of two, a former youthful partner in fornication. But something stirred in my and without stopping to think that perhaps she would prefer not to have the past recalled, I asked her if she hadn't lived in such and such a neighborhood in her childhood. She nodded assent. "Don't you remember me?" I asked impulsively, repeating my first name. "No, I don't recall you!" she replied. "Why I—" and then I saw that her cheeks were blazing. Belatedly, my own face burning with the sudden comprehension of my tactless interrogation, I changed the subject.

  At thirteen I was growing rapidly, was quite tall and well developed, this also contrary to certain other accepted theories, for according to all authorities on the subject, such excesses as I was indulging in should irrevocably have undermined my health. For in addition to fucking every little girl I could wheedle into removing her panties I also masturbated myself with more or less frequency. One day I ran across an old medical book containing drawings and diagrams of the human form in various stages of revelation. The book intrigued my prurient interest, and while searching it for more illustrations, I came upon a chapter on masturbation which, hastily read, chilled the blood in my veins and sent me flying to the mirror to see how many of the visible signs, so luridly described, were visible in my own countenance. According to this book, boys who practiced the destructive vice were re
cognizable under a cursory examination. Their eyes were dull and lifeless, the lids discolored and swollen. Their faces were sallow, and even their self-conscious and nervous demeanor was sufficient to betray their guilty secret. All unfortunate boys addicted to this vicious habit were doomed. Insanity, consumption, premature old age were all lurking close at their elbows. A rapid calculation as I rushed to a mirror told me that I had been at it for four years or more, and it was indeed with a sigh of relief that I scrutinized the reflection which gazed back into my anxious eyes. No signs of senile decay were visible. My complexion was clear and rosy, my eyes bright and limpid. And I certainly was not undersized, for my physique was such that I was generally taken to be at least two years older than I really was. A prolonged examination dissipated my fright, but I had received a shock, and thereafter I indulged in masturbation only on special occasions. As the book said nothing about anything disagreeable happening to boys who fucked little girls, I assumed that no evil consequences need be anticipated from this direction.

  At fourteen, I was associating with boys several years older than myself, some of whom had had experiences with adult females, some even with prostitutes. In the light of their revelations, my own little adventures seemed insipid and infantile. I learned of mysterious houses where one could go and have his choice from among a number of luscious females on display in the nude. There was a certain section of the city allotted to their special occupancy, whole blocks of buildings devoted to the traffic of commercialized sexual pleasures.

  Grown women! It must feel much nicer to do it with an adult woman than with an immature, inexperienced little girl! The thought grew, obsessed me, set my fancy on fire. And still I dared not think of trying to enter one of these palaces of delight, for though I knew where they were located, boys under eighteen were not supposed to be admitted. I could pass for sixteen easy enough, but hardly eighteen.

  One of my friends became the envied owner of a packet of pictures of nude women. They were passed from hand to hand. I persuaded the fortunate owner to let me take them home with me overnight. I wanted to enjoy them in private, at leisure, in the seclusion of my room. One by one I examined them with my cock sticking up and threatening to go off by mere force of mental stimulation. What took my eye was the fascinating triangle of curly hair which stood out so prominently on the pubic regions of the models. None of the little girls I had dealings with had hair down there, or at least more than a soft, incipient, almost imperceptible growth. The thick, curly profusion which adorned the sexual regions of the ladies in these pictures held my eyes in fascination. What an exquisite sensation those crisp curls would provoke as they tickled one's cock and testicles. And their breasts, full, round and luscious, projecting outward like snowy hills! Not a girl I knew had anything to compare with what these pictures revealed.

  As I studied them, my hand unconsciously dropped downward over an erected cock which was fairly bristling with fury. And, unable to resist the urge, I jacked myself off with rapid strokes. As orgasm took place several jets of milky fluid spurted outward. My testicles were secreting semen and I now constituted a first-class risk to damsels of twelve and upward who were indiscreet enough to let me squirt that hot starchy looking stuff between their legs. When the last drop had been squeezed out, I sighed, hid the pictures under my mattress, and turned out the light.

  I wanted a mature woman, one who had hair around her cunt and big breasts and I wanted her with all the ardor of my being. But there was no woman I dared approach. Then, as unexpectedly as golden haired little Flora had entered my life, Fortune led me, or I might say, actually shoved me, right into circumstances which culminated in the fulfilment of my ambition.

  Among my acquaintances was a boy by the name of Gerald. Having interests in common we formed a species of alliance although he was somewhat younger than I. He invited me to his home and thus I came to meet his mother. One look and I was head over heels in love. She was everything imaginable in feminine pulchritude. Around thirty but still conserving a youthful beauty which might well have been the envy of women much younger, small and petite of figure, with a pair of bubbies which projected her blouse out in front in the most amazing manner, she fairly made my mouth water. I could hardly take my eyes off of her during the time I was in the house. She was a widow, Gerald's father having died years previously. Evidently she had married at a very tender age. It was apparent that Gerald was the pride of her life, and any of Gerald's friends were treated with royal consideration. My visits became frequent, and I was invariably regaled with cake, mince pie, plum pudding or some other gastric delicacy. But it wasn't the cake, or the pie, or the pudding which drew me. I came to look, and long, and sigh. Presumably my passion wsa unsuspected, but at times she seemed to be eyeing me with a quizzical, understanding expression on her face.

  One afternoon Gerald and I decided to entertain ourselves by making and flying a pair of kites. We secured paper, twine, sticks, and other essentials. While engaged in this for once entirely innocent occupation, Gerald's mother brought us two big glasses of lemonade, and some chocolate cake. She was going to town, she said, and was serving us this luncheon so we wouldn't get hungry meanwhile.

  Gerald and I finished out kites, and carried them to the square six blocks distant. He soon had his floating in the sky, but mine, solicitously guided by the finger of Destiny tried to argue the right of way with an electric light wire and before I could extricate it, it was badly damaged. Repairs necessitated both paper and paste, so while Gerald remained, I returned with the intention of getting these essentials from his mother. When I ascended the front steps, and rang the bell, there was no response. As I waited, I suddenly remembered that she had, presumably, gone to town. In a tentative way, I tried the door and found somewhat to my surprise that it was unlocked. Knowing exactly where to find the things I desired, I opened the door and walked in. From the parlor a hall led to the kitchen and in this direction I turned my steps. I was exactly half way through this long hall, when the door to the bath room, just ahead of me, swung open and Gerald's mother stepped out into the hall, fresh from the tub and stripped stark naked except for her hose and slippers.

  It would have been difficult to say which of us was the most astounded. We both froze in our tracks gazing at each other, wordless with surprise. I opened my mouth to make some explanation, but a correct formula of apology to offer a lady under such circumstances was beyond me and I closed it again without having uttered a word. There seemed to be a haze in the air which partially obscured my sight and through it I perceived a black triangle which gradually resolved into a glossy silky profusion of tight little ringlets of hair, sharply outlined against a background of snowy whiteness. as this became fixed on my consciousness, something down the front of my trousers began to hoist itself upward. A low, strained voice broke the spell:

  "Where's Gerald?"

  "He's down at Wellington Square with his kite."

  The expansion in the front of my trousers had reached its maximum, causing a then shaped projection outward. I was still gazing through a sort of cloud, but it seemed to me that she was smiling faintly. The next thing I knew she was standing close in front of me, and had placed one of her hands on my shoulder. The other slipped down inside the waist band of my trousers. A bit of fumbling with my underclothing and soft cool fingers closed around my cock. They remained there for a moment and were withdrawn. I felt them tugging at the buttons on the front of my pants.

  One, two, three, four little tugs, and like a jack-in-the-box released at the touch of a spring, my cock jumped out into the light of day as the clothing which had imprisoned it was loosened. Again soft fingers encircled it and with a forward movement of her hand the scarlet plum shaped head was exposed to view. The hand receded and it disappeared from view within its protecting shield. The movements were repeated a few times, sending little electric thrills chasing up and down my spine. And then a soft voice murmured in my ear:

  "You've been hanging around here with this
thing sticking up under your pants to tempt me for the last three months. Can you keep a secret?"

  I nodded my head affirmatively.

  "Well then run and slide the bolt on the front door before someone else comes walking in!"

  My heart was pounding with excitement as I ran to obey. When I returned, she opened the door to her bedroom, and motioned for me to enter.

  "Take off your clothes!"

  I wsa still flushed with emotion, but I was recovering my composure, and as I stripped off my clothing, my eyes were devouring the delectable spectacle of her nudity. Pretty as she was dressed, she was a hundred times prettier naked. How different she looked from those flat chested little girls with their small bottoms, their bodies, except in one single detail, little different from those of boys! Her full round hips and narrow waist, her maturely symmetrical legs and thighs, her breasts so big and white, with their luscious carmine nipples. Even as I looked, those luscious strawberry-like tips seemed to be changing in form. They were puffing out, taking on a deeper hue, projecting themselves forward seductively.

  And, charm of charms, that fascinating profusion of dark ringlets of hair which formed as true a triangle at the base of her stomach as though drawn by rule and pen. Plainly visible under the inverted point of the triangle, could be seen the clean-cut incision of her sex as it curved gracefully inward between white, round thighs. Observing my trembling excitation and wide-eyed wonder, she broke into laughter, and throwing her arms about me began to kiss me, exclaiming:

  "Haven't you ever seen a woman naked before, darling?"