"My real reason for stopping in to see you, dear, is to see if you wouldn't care for a little diversion-something to raise your pulse; a little whipping, for instance?"
"You mean-” I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders, then: “I have a very unruly maid and seeing her whipped serves to arouse my lover's passion to some great extent.” Noting the look in my eye, she continued, “Come along, my dear; I'm sure you'll enjoy it."
I might add that at the moment, I was wearing but the briefest of camisoles and seeing this she said, “Don't bother dressing, dear; you couldn't possibly have on less than I,” and by the way of proving her statement, she opened her gown and showed me that it was her only garment.
Imagine, then, me walking into the well-lighted living room all dressed up in a tiny undergarment of the thinnest possible gauze.
All of this may have little or no interest to you, my friend; it is written for the sole purpose of showing the real character of my lover; how he fostered this visit; how he was a friend of long standing with these people and had been in the habit of visiting them and taking part in the weird entertainments there. The whole thing, briefly, was to initiate me in their free-love cult, and I, ever seeking new thrills, calmly walked into a nest of the worst sadists in all of Europe.
Nor was that all. There was no doubt, as the woman had said, that her lover's passion was greatly aroused after watching someone being whipped. After a buxom lass had been led naked into the room and frightfully lashed, all four of us stripped stark naked, and I found myself paired off with this other woman's lover.
Without so much as a kiss on the mouth-or anywhere else-he rammed his erect charger into my dripping cunny (for I was not unaffected by the evening's entertainment). After several thrusts, he withdrew and, moving up over my body, eased his juicy cock into my mouth. I licked and sucked at the engorged head, rather liking the taste of my own love-dew on the fleshy pole that wore it. Not satisfied with this, though, he turned me over and positioned me on my knees. Crouching on all fours while this sadist rubbed his hands over my backside, I realized that I was about to learn all I wanted to know about being diddled “the back way.” I looked over my shoulder, wanting to know what was to happen-and just when it would occur. It seems that just the sight of my creamy buttocks excited the man no end and his already sizable tool swelled to an incredible dimension. I feared for my timid little bottom-hole. Not suffering from the same apprehensions, he grasped his shaft with one hand, and resting the other hand upon the small of my back, he presented the knob to my crinkled orifice. Well lubricated from its dalliance within my cunt and mouth, the very tip worked in with surprising ease. But only the very tip. My bottom-hole expanded that small bit eagerly. Feeling resistance already, the man, seemingly well versed in such matters, pushed down on the small of my back, easing his access somewhat. Without further warning, he shoved mercilessly into my unsuspecting passage. He had been progressing with such patience that I was caught quite by surprise at this brutal assault. It was all for the best though-since I had no idea of his intentions, I had not the time to clench my bottom-hole as is often the case with virgins of the technique. He was past the tight sphincter muscle and sheathed writhing in the dark passage with little or no pain on my part. He remained there motionless while I had time to acquaint myself with this novel visitor. As soon as he felt my tentative grip of his swollen tool within my canal, he completed his entrance until he was in me to his balls. He wrapped the fingers of one hand around the front of my thigh to give himself greater leverage for the mad ride to come, and he worked the fingers of his other hand into my neglected pussy so as to give me greater joy. He pulled out slowly and then pushed back in. Again he pulled out until I retained but the crested hood. I could feel every glorious inch of him. Exasperated at his slow progress, I heaved my buttocks back, taking all of him in. He needed no further hints. Soon he was fucking my back passage with relish. My own efforts almost unseated him, and he let go of my cunt in order to hold onto my heaving hips with both hands. Deprived of this wonderful stimulation, I was forced to attend to my anxious pussy myself. With my own fingers frigging my clit and his ever-growing shaft plumbing me to my depths, we both came in a flood of erotic down-pouring.
Needless to say, my friend, that I became a frequent visitor at our new friends’ home, and here, thanks to their efforts and the effort of their friends, I found my education advancing by leaps and bounds.
But I won't linger longer over my time in Frankfurt. Enough to say our stay covered two years. Just when the show was to close in a few weeks, I had the good fortune to receive a visit from a producer of operas who was about to open a show in Pest and was eager to get my signature to a contract. Then, as though fate had laid in wait for me, Paul also received a splendid offer, which was to take him on a long tour.
There wasn't the slightest doubt that I would take this offer, but there were a number of reasons which hurried my signing. First, I was about to lose Paul. Second, I had already been touched by another beside Paul (nor were these two the only ones). The third was for the reason that a splendid-looking young fellow accompanied my new producer, and I found myself falling desperately in love. His name was Arpid, and that night as Paul and I lay clasped in each other's arms, I fancied it was Arpid who held me. Indeed, I even called out the name Arpid when at the height of my passion, so great was my desire for this young man. But Paul was nice about it. He told me to go and enjoy myself; that I was free, and though he would never forget me, I should now take another.
I might mention that I never saw Paul again.
CHAPTER VI
I have often wondered at the strangeness of my own nature. For two years I lived with a man, the same man who had the pleasure of taking my maidenhead and initiating me into the mysteries of sex, and yet at the expiration of those two years I hadn't the slightest regrets at leaving Paul.
Some people will say that a woman cannot have two loves and have the second be as passionate as the first. That, my friend, is not true. And my case, too, was different than most women. There wasn't a spot on my body, from the tips of toes to the end of the longest hair on my head, that hadn't at some time during our two years been inundated by his prolific spend, nor was there a single method known to man that Paul hadn't tried upon my body. You may dispute that, but I can safely say that it is true.
And what is stranger still, perhaps, is the fact that I wanted it that way. Paul's moods were strange, as were mine. I had known him to literally tear the most costly garments from me and ravish me in the most unheard-of manner; he had taken me in my dressing room, just before I was about to make my entrance upon the stage. I believe this lent strength to my voice, for standing there, feeling his prolific sperm trickle down my thighs from the overdose he had so recently given me, I sang as I never had before.
I had had him in a railway carriage; in a coach; I recall how once we were riding through the park, and how I made him fuck me almost under the eyes of the driver who sat on a seat above us. Oh, I could tell you of a hundred crazy things we had done, and yet, the day I left Paul, I had not the least feeling of regret.
With Gene it was the same thing; a kiss and a well-filled purse was all that passed between us as I left her, though tears showed on her lashes. I was told later that Paul took her with him, but of this, I knew nothing-nor did I care. My mind was on but one thing, and that was my darling Arpid!
I thought the trip from Frankfurt to Pest would never end. Imagine fifty hours on a train alone and burning with desire for a man I knew little or nothing about!