“My remonstrances were stifled in my throat by the choking and horrible pleasure which affected all my being I seemed to have no strength to combat him now. Even when he parted the cheeks of my bottom and peered within the cleft-and thrust unfilial fingers into the valley-and touched with a probing forefinger the tiny orifice he found there… I could only moan with shame and a fiery ecstasy.”
“Finding me so unresistant, Lester became moved to an infernal audacity. He twisted around so as to mount my bottom, and rubbed his virility furiously upon my soft buttocks — easily mastered my squirming, with strong fingers which sank deeply into the flesh of my hips.”
“It was not until he had contrived to lodge his penis in the furrow between my twin mounds, and had begun to rob his member to and fro there as if in a sheath, that I was suddenly inspired to a final and successful attempt to dislodge him.”
“I rolled over and sat up, dishevelled and panting. I weakly attempted to cover my slender, naked legs, so noticeably protruding from my disordered robe. I looked tremblingly at my nude son, who knelt there discomforted and panting.”
“I was shaking with the inner conflict between desire and a sense of motherly rectitude. As I look back I can see very clearly that if Lester's knowledge had been on a par with his sensual desires, he could have thrust me over backwards and… and taken me-”
“He could have fucked you, you mean?” breathed her malicious tormentor in her ear… as his hand moulded her soft yet swelling breast.
“Yes-” said Rose, simply and directly. “He could have fucked me. Since you seem to wish to make me as common and vulgar as possible, I'll use your word of a vicious schoolboy. But the boy was half crying at my own obvious distress, and his sorrow soothed me to the point where I stammered something to the effect that he mustn't treat his mother's body like that-and then held out ray arms to him in reconciliation.”
“He was in them immediately and affectionately-so much to that he bore me backwards at full length. But this time I was flat on my back, and he was lying between my fully extended and bare legs. He was quickly comforted, hugging me, kissing me. I hugged him in return… but I was sighing as I did so-with the sensuous effects of his naked male virility pressing almost dominantly upon me.”
“The slender, wiry legs had seemed to part my own limbs and slip in between them almost instinctively, and his warm kisses were setting me aflame with desire. For there was another thing which now occurred which was hard to explain in a mere lad. He breathed something about my parted lips looking like a flower-and he began to lick them hotly-thrusting his tongue into my mouth in search of my own.”
“I was startled and shaken more than ever. In my surprise and agitation he had discovered my unresisting tongue and was caressing and tickling it with his own. I can only imagine that at some time or other he must have seen his father kiss me in such a manner.”
“For my husband was very addicted to this form of kissing, mingling it in affection and passion. He had taught me to enjoy it greatly-to-to reciprocate. He loved to use his tongue… when greatly excited.”
“And only on your rosy mouth and tongue?” whispered Mr. Freeman.
Rose affected not to hear-but her enhanced flush was a vivid reply.
“And now I found my son doing the same thing…” she continued hurriedly. Ignoring his query.
“I asked you a question.” remarked the man. “I mean to have an answer.” He squeezed the flesh of her buttock, and his other hand groped through the thin fabric and grasped in her lap-seizing a mound so plump that it made a handful for him as he squeezed its lusciously soft flesh — a mound so gauzily covered that his fingers could sense the abundant growth of sex hair which hid it-as he squeezed and pressed.
Rose Bolton gasped and cringed. Her little cry was a soft, imploring moan of mingled shame and passion.
“I beg of you-I implore you. Mr. Freeman!” she said with a wail, 'don't treat me like this! Am I a girl of the streets-just because you have forced me to tell you of my… my experiences? How can you humiliate me so?”
“No girl of the streets-nor of the frivolous world-is one half as desirable as you.” he said thickly. “By God, you are a queen of women, but even that will not save you from telling me what I want to know.
His breath was hot upon her neck-her bosom-on a taut nipple through the thin silk of her gown. With a descivious gesture he was moulding with his strong fingers the soft plumpness of her genital mound-and gradually his hand was boring still deeper into her lap. A long forefinger curved downward. It sought… found… and pressed.
And the woman, breathing hoarsely, writhed upon his knees. “Ohhh! Have mercy!” she begged. “Can't you see… that you are d-driving m-me mad?”
“Whenever you are ready.” he said, “you may answer my question. It was about your husband's employment of his tongue in amorous ways…”
“He-he licked m-me… I've told you that.” quavered Rose in a shamed voice.
Silently he continued the voluptuously inflaming play of hand and finger-unrelentingly demanding confessions which she struggled to refuse. And after a futile effort to wrest herself from his embrace. Rose Bolton collapsed against him-panting.
“I'll tell-I'll tell,” she wailed. “Only stop! He… he… he loved to lick-not only my lips and tongue… but everywhere! There-I've told you… for God's sake- stop driving me crazy!”
He had forced her full, lovely thighs so far apart by this time that his fingertip moved untramelled up and down in a delicate furrow whose warmth was perceptible through the thin silk that covered it. Rose moaned and twisted upon his swollen weapon — and pulsing flames seemed to shoot through both their veins.
“Details… I want the details!” he almost gasped.
“Bat… I can't t-alk-if you keep on… d-doing that to m-me-“ stammered the victim.
“What am I doing? Tell me and I will stop!” he said hotly. “I promise.”
“You are touching me-handling me-so indecently,” came Rose's smothered gasp in reply. She understood the price which she must pay to his perversity-to his yearning for the defilement of her chaste and refined lips by the use of these obscene words.
“You are… feeling-m-my c-cunt…” Rose gasped out despairingly. “There-you promised… to stop!”
With a lingering slowness that betrayed his reluctance to abandon this dainty pasture, he withdrew his hand. But he thrust it down between her thighs-forcing them to remain parted-and silently threatened a return of that lascivious, delightful torment in case I should fail to humor him.
Rose crumpled before the iron persistence of the man. It was the first time in her life that she had confided to a third person the strange predilections of her husband. Now she felt impelled to the revelations-and was amazed to find herself throbbing, vibrating, as she whispered in his ear the admissions his tyranny had imposed on her.
“He used to kiss my hands when we were merely engaged,” she said. “And he licked the fingers softly before letting them go. I was so ignorant that I did not know whether such caresses were usual between sweethearts. It made me nervous and fidgety but I said nothing at all about it.”
“After a time, during bis calls at my home, he began to kiss more and more of my exposed flesh-and to lick it softly-until I began to feel a vague pleasure from such caresses. He licked my bare forearms as well as my hands. And presently I was moved to come down to greet him in a sleeveless gown-and later on in a modest decollete- thus blushingly offering more and more of my flesh to his lips and tongue.”
“My whole face came to know those curious caresses — my lips he fairly drank… and my tongue too- although that was then always passive instead of reciprocally active. Thus I would lie in his arms-sometimes tense with sensual pleasure, sometimes relaxed and… trembling… while he kissed and licked my neck, my shoulders, all of my flesh that I had bared for his amorous activities.”