Confessions of an Author

Chapter One. MY EARLY YEARS

My sexual desires were awakened at a rather early age and I can remember all the circumstances that contributed to this early awakening quite clearly. I had a mother who was very beautiful and a real woman. Whenever she took me upon her lap, I pressed myself close against her and loved to push my face against her full and resilient breasts. I often tried to unbutton her blouse, because I wanted to put my face against her bare skin; but, to be perfectly frank, the moment Mama realized my intentions, she slapped my hands. It made me more aware… I started to think. Now, why shouldn't I press my face against Mama's beautiful, rosy, bare skin?

I was five years old when Mama took me with her to the city's bathing establishment. I was not the only boy in the ladies' department. It gave me immense pleasure to watch all these women in their many-colored bathing suits and to see those naked calves. There was one in particular that I could not keep my eyes off. She was wearing a tight-fitting knit suit and had already been in the water. The tricot fitted her like her own skin. The little buds on her breasts stuck out quite visibly and her thighs were marvelously white and full. A few of the ladies noticed my obvious delight and I heard Miss Rita Hellmer — who was destined to play an important role in my later years — remark to one of the other girls, “That little boy starts early!” Though I did not understand her remark, it made me think, and now I felt duty-bound to really stare at that beautiful woman in her tricot.

Mama had left me in the care of one of the female attendants and a few of the boys who could already swim. But suddenly she took me along with her and sat down with me on the steps which led to the swimming pool. Oh, how I pressed myself against her! Now I really felt her skin and saw the beautiful bosom which stood out firmly in the red bathing suit. At that time a strange, up till then unknown, feeling shivered through me and I had to hold myself tightly against Mama, since, otherwise, I would have slid into the water. I was overcome with a sudden vertigo. Mama noticed that I did not feel too well and brought me over to a bench which was standing next to the cabin in the shadow. She sat down next to me and I leaned my face against the wet red suit, precisely where it stretched tightly across her bosom. I sat there very quietly and I was very happy. As soon as Mama noticed that I had quieted down, she wanted to stand up. However, I held her tightly and she had to virtually beg me to let go of her so that she could take one more swim in the pool. I let go of her but my eyes followed her greedily and when she went out of sight I cried quietly. Finally she returned. She walked quickly into her cabin to dress so that she could take care of me as fast as possible. I sat there for awhile but she took too long, so I got up and hurriedly slipped into the unlocked cabin. There I saw Mama, standing before me in full and gorgeous nudity.

I heard her cry out in surprise. I saw how she grabbed for the first piece of clothing and held it in front of her and I was terribly disappointed that now I could only see her nude arms and the little blonde hairs in her armpits. That was the day my sexual feelings were awakened and from then on I have had a continual desire for the sight of an unclad female. And at the same time I also may have felt that first, delicious itching in the attribute of my manhood, that certain feeling of pleasure which points the direction of the hand. I cannot remember how often I sat in the corner of the sofa, or surrounded by the bushes in our garden, with my eyes closed, imagining all the women and girls I knew in the nude, embracing and kissing each other and they all had the beautiful body which I had seen. And my little hand would go in my pocket and my fingers would feel around till they found the nudity of my prick and finally a sweet, weakening feeling would run through my body. During one of these fantasies, it suddenly occurred to me that I had not noticed that little thing on Mama's gorgeous body. It seemed to me the most important because it was that organ which caused me to have all these sweet pleasures. No, you could not see it on Mama. She had darling blonde hairs at that spot. But possibly I could have been mistaken. If I just could see her once more that way! I desired that so much that I asked her if we could go once more to the bathing establishment together. I noticed that Mama exchanged glances with my father. And my father said thereupon, “The next time I will take you with me.” But they did not please me with that answer in the least.

At that time I also had a nanny, a young girl who could laugh beautifully. She may have been seventeen or eighteen. She would romp around with me and she kissed me often. Every time we embraced I would hold onto her breasts with my little hands, though those breasts were not as full and firm as those of my Mama. But since she never punished me and also never complained about my little liberties to Mama, I loved her very much and trusted her more and more, far more than I ever did anybody else. I quite frequently lifted her skirts up to her knees whenever she sat down, though I did not get much higher. And I would have loved to find out if she had a similar sweet little thing. And even when I lay down upon the rug and tried my very best to look under her skirts when we were wrestling and playing, I never succeeded in noticing anything else but her white underwear.

Normally, Mama would bring me to bed, except when she had to go out with my father, which, as far as I can remember back to those days, was something that did not happen too frequently. But if and when, my nanny would take over that task. I will never forget the evening when that lusty young girl, Miss Rosa, my last nanny, had to put me to bed for the first time. My parents had left early that afternoon and they were going to stay away for the night. I was alone in the house with my nanny, because she had given the cook permission to go out and Mama had taken her chambermaid with her. My nanny was very nice to me and she also allowed me to sit on her lap while she caressed me. Suddenly she said to me, “Laddy, do you love me very much? Will you promise not to tell your Mama when somebody visits me?” I was very curious and swore solemnly to say nothing to Mama. Soon thereafter a young man showed up who brought chocolates for me and kisses for Rosa. Thereupon I was told to play with my fortress and set up all my tin soldiers exactly the way Miss Rosa had shown me, very carefully and taking my time. She just wanted to go with her “brother” into the other room for awhile and show him something.

At first I wanted to come along, but since she assured me that she would be right back, I let myself be talked into playing with my fortress and soldiers. I set up the strongholds and placed all my soldiers in a row … I had over one hundred and they were all carefully placed in rank and file but Rosa still had not returned to view the results of my labor. So I went to the door and knocked. “Just a moment, laddy, just a moment,” said the voice of my nanny, and she sounded as if she had just been running up and down the stairs. I stood on the tip of my toes and managed to open the door. Rosa and her “brother” were playing around on the rug, they were wrestling, she was underneath and he was on top. Their eyes sparkled and their faces were flushed. I started to laugh and let myself roll down upon the carpet, too. However, both of them had jumped up quickly and gone into my playroom. I thought that they were going to play tag so I got up and rushed after them. But now I saw that my nanny's blouse was open and that her “brother” was buttoning his trousers. And I also noticed immediately that both were very embarrassed.

Nanny quickly fastened her blouse, walked over to me, kissed me and said that she would cry and leave me if I ever told anything to my Mama. And when Rosa, long after her “brother” had gone, put me to bed, she made me promise once more to keep silent and then she promised me that she would do anything I wanted. I looked at her for a while and then said, “I will tell Mama nothing, but then you must take off all your clothes, right now!”

At first she cried out, “But laddy,” and then she started to laugh and promised to take me into her bed. “But the lights have to be burning,” I stated my desire plainly. Rosa went into the kitchen and when she returned, she locked the door. “That is because of the cook, you know, so she cannot come in,” she said. “She, too, is not supposed to find out anything.”

Rosa undressed me and put me in her bed, which stood opposite mine. “You're sure you won't tell anything to your Mama?” she wanted to know again. And then she undressed herself. I followed every single one of her movements with eagle's eyes and waited for the miracle. The first thing I said when she stood in front of me naked was, “Is that all you have up front? Just hair?” She laughed loud and clear, bent down over me and kissed me upon my eyes, mouth and body and then upon my little member which suddenly stretched itself and stood up. She kissed it with moist lips and took the entire thing in her mouth. She shivered, pressed her breasts against my face and had me kiss her little rosy buds. Thereupon she stretched out next to me, took my hand in hers and made me touch her pubic hairs and then deeper. She smiled prettily and called out, “Oh, you sweet, sweet, laddy!” I found everything incredibly beautiful and interesting and absolutely refused to move away from her. She had to use force to get me into my own bed.

That was the night in which I learned about the difference between the sexes.

In the fall of that same year I had reached the age where I had to go to school, but the doctor decided that I was not strong enough and among other things he ordered that I would have to start sleeping alone at nights. Rosa was told to leave the house because I had to be weaned away from female company. I cried and did not want to let her go and I almost betrayed the poor thing. A very serious-looking private tutor came to live with us. He was a very good-looking black-haired gentleman with sinister dark eyes. Every time he looked at Mama, those eyes would light up and he would forget me and my lessons.

Once, Mama walked into the room during one of my instruction hours and she leaned against the table when she pressed a kiss upon my forehead. While she did that, I noticed her squeezing the hand of my tutor and I saw him brush his lips against Mama's dress at the spot where it covered her breasts. I experienced the most unbearable jealousy. Right after my lessons I ran to Mama, hung on to her, kissed her hands, her dress and behaved like a little maniac. She had my teacher called in to talk something over with him and I was sent out into the garden. I can only guess what they talked about together, surely it must have been about me. And from the few words I was able to catch, I could gather that Mama had also talked about me to my father. I believe they had made up their minds that I was to be placed in an all-male environment.

But Mama succeeded with her wish to keep me with her till the next vacation. She had a slight tendency to put on weight and she was going to take the cure at Marienbad. I was going to be taken along and, because of me, it was obvious that the tutor with the glowing eyes had to go also. Papa, who was always very busy, could not take his vacation till much later that summer and he wanted to go to the Mediterranean. I was used to the fact that my parents came easily to an agreement with each other. In fact, I cannot remember that they ever had an argument. Father treated his beautiful wife, who was his mental superior, with the utmost charm. Whenever he came home, or left again, he kissed her hand. But I never saw those two people affectionate with each other. Later, much later, I knew that there was something out of order between them. I assume that my father, because of an operation, had become unfit for the marital bed and only afterward did I remember that he, long before I had my first tutor, had been sickly and confined for quite some time in a sanitarium. So I have the right to assume that my father must have been a remarkable man, a true hero, who did not allow the woman on his side to suffer because of ill luck that had befallen him and who moreover allowed her to lead a life befitting a woman of her marvelous beauty. Anybody else in his place would have been incapable of such greatness, at the most he would have been able to give the woman her freedom. Surely my father had offered this freedom to Mama and equally as surely she had given up all her claims to it. They lived together as two very good friends. Surely the essential conditions of a mere friendship between husband and wife are the incapacity of the man and lack of moral principles in both parties.

But at that time in Marienbad, I, the seven-year-old, had a marvelous vacation. Possibly because I was on my own most of the time. I was extraordinarily developed for my age and despite my secret sexual life I looked hale and hearty. I was especially pleased with the half-grown-up girls, the ones who were about to bloom out into full womanhood. They tried everything to gain my friendship and I was almost always surrounded with a pack of these young things whenever Mama and my tutor went to the springs or afterwards on one of their long walks. I did not come along with them after Mama had decided that these long hikes tired me out and that the springs made me lose my appetite.

Among the young girls was one in particular whom I can still remember exactly. Her name was Grete Holm and, as I heard later, she took the veil and became a nun after she had secretly given birth to a child. But at the time she must have been barely thirteen years old. She was no beauty, but she was very fleshy and she had a remarkably well-developed bosom for her age. She titillated my senses to the utmost with her low-cut sailor's dress which gave an excellent view of her bare upper chest. And she seemed to notice my interest. And whenever she managed to be alone with me she showed considerable interest in the center of my kneepants. Whenever something caused me to bulge there, she pressed her thighs close together, stared out into nothingness and her breathing would become short and shallow.

One day, right after breakfast, which the hotel's chambermaid had served me, and while Mama and the tutor had gone first to the springs and then on one of their long hikes to have breakfast somewhere far away, Grete walked into my room. Without any further ado she sat down at the table with me and while I was stirring my chocolate milk, in the meantime staring at her especially low-cut dress for that occasion, she was putting honey on my breakfast roll. Then she put a piece of it into my mouth and laughed. Suddenly she unbuttoned her blouse and I could see that she was nude all the way down to the waistband of her skirt. She did not wear a chemise! She took the spoon out of the honeypot and rubbed it across the nipples of her breasts that were standing out nice and red on her well-rounded bosom. She then walked up close to me, almost pushed one breast up to my lips and said, “Lick off the honey from this one!” I opened my mouth greedily and sucked. And then the other one. But it did not seem enough for her. I was supposed to take those nipples between my teeth, only not too firmly. Even today I still don't understand why I did not bite them off. She walked over to the door and bolted it securely. Then she returned to me and lifted her little skirt so high that I could see her full thighs and her belly. Grete really did not wear a chemise.

“Isn't that beautiful?” she asked. And she did not let go of me. I had to show her what I had. She became ecstatic and kept calling out, “Gee, how beautiful!” She wanted me to take off my clothes. She insisted, begged. But I did not do it. We sat next to each other upon the couch for quite some time, she with her skirt lifted high, and I with an open fly, and our hands were not idle. On top of that I had to lick and suck continually on her breasts. It was wild. We possibly could have kept this up for a long time but because of her ardent laboring my member started to burn and sting so terribly that I jumped up groaning. She lost all color and became very flustered and begged me to say nothing to my Mama. Well, I did not say a thing even though I was still hurting that night and despite the fact that I was terribly afraid. When I met Grete the next morning near the bandstand she told me that she had been too excited to sleep at all. If my Mama really did not know anything and if I was still hurting, she wanted to know. It was remarkable how easy it was to put her at ease! Finally she said with an air of superiority, “Ah, you are still too young and too stupid!” And ever since she did not even as much as look at me, no matter how much I tried to attract her attention.

A few days later I saw her in the company of a gentleman who was very big and who had very thick and heavy lips. She stared at him without interruption and he kept smiling at her. I did not feel well at all. Frankly, I believe that I must have been insanely jealous, because I was convinced that that gentleman had seen her exactly the same way I had. How much honey must she have been pasting on her chest to accommodate those big lips! I tried to imagine him licking and smacking. I became unbearably excited. I ran up and down the promenade which led to the springs, avidly looking at the girls and especially the women who showed their fullness through the thin summer dresses they were wearing.

At noontime Mama picked me up in the hotel's reading room, like she did every day, to go to lunch. She was terribly upset about the way I looked and the tutor had to feel my pulse. Thereupon they called the doctor and before afternoon I was in bed. Mama sat next to me, the tutor at her side. My dear God, those two people were so beautiful. Once in a while they whispered to each other, very softly so that I could not understand one word from the French they were speaking. I pretended to be asleep but I was constantly looking at them from between my half-closed eyelids. Mama seemed to be terribly concerned and she leaned over to look at me quite often. And then I saw her lean back and her hand would be in front of her beautiful blue eyes, those eyes which made her look like a Madonna. The tutor kneeled next to her and pressed his lips upon her white hand. I heard him say, “Please, don't cry, it will not be that bad.” She embraced him and pressed his face against her bosom.

When I woke up again I had compresses on my head and I was terribly thirsty. I heard Mama's voice and then I heard her sob loudly. I believe that someone led her out of the room. Only much later she told me that I had been very, very ill and that she was about to ask Papa to come and stay with us. But I had a strong constitution and I was well fed. That is why I made it. And on my eighth birthday, which was a special celebration, I was allowed to get up for the first time. But I was so weakened that, despite the fact that the doctor was holding me, I barely managed to walk through the room once.

It was well into fall before we left Marienbad. Mama was more beautiful than ever. She wore a white, very low-cut Foulard dress, richly adorned with lace up front and she smiled very often and had an extremely contented look. Throughout the railroad voyage the tutor was very concerned about her every move, but she laughed at him. And whenever she thought that nobody noticed it, she caressed his cheeks. We only stayed at home for two days and then the three of us traveled to Nice — Mama, the tutor and I. Father had taken us to the railroad station. He kissed Mama's hand and said, “Take good care of yourself.” He shook hands with the tutor without saying a word. But he swallowed as if something was stuck in his throat. In Nice I was under continual supervision. Mama did not leave me out of her sight and at night the tutor slept in my room which was connected by an unlocked door with Mama's room. I do believe that those two people were very happy, but I was bored to death, especially since they were so extremely careful. Quite frequently I lay awake for hours, listening behind the open door. I heard Mama talk to the tutor and I could hear quite clearly that they were talking about the most unimportant matters, about books and things that were of absolutely no interest to me. So finally I got into the habit of falling asleep as soon as I went to bed. Mama had become positively enchanting, though, despite her cure in Marienbad, it seemed to me that she had put on weight nevertheless. I remember that once she gave me a big kiss and said, “If you're a nice boy, maybe we will give you a little baby brother for Christmas.” When she said that, the tutor blushed a deep red and Mama looked up to him with an adoring look on her lovely face.

We returned home a few days before Christmas — Mama and me. The tutor drove up to the house with us, but he did not come in. I will never forget the long painful look he gave Mania when he took leave from us. Mama whispered to him, “Don't look so glum, when it is all over we will take another journey with the child. I will write you a letter.” I pretended not to listen, though not a single word had escaped me. Besides, I did not think it strange that those two were on such confidential terms with each other and I was overjoyed at the idea that the three of us would soon go on another voyage. After all, it was obvious that “the child” was me.

One can imagine my utter surprise when I was told, shortly after we had come home, that I was to go to a boarding school! Right after New Year's I really had to go. A strange gentleman had arrived, a teacher of the school where I had been enrolled. He stayed with us for a few days so that I could get acquainted with him, and then I had to leave. The farewell from my mother was very sad. Mama pressed me against her and cried, and I cried too, nuzzling her full bosom. I can remember that I wished nothing else but to tear Mama's nightgown and kiss her naked breasts. Finally Mama pushed me away from her with a certain insistence. Papa went with the boarding school teacher and me to the station. He kissed me and said nothing else but, “Have courage!”

I got into the coach.

* * *

I spent three years in that boarding school without ever seeing my parents, not even during the vacations. I know that my mother must have suffered greatly, because she loved me very much. But I also must respect my father's feelings and his reasons for keeping me away from home. Especially now, since I have grown into adulthood, I realize that he was not so devoid of male vanity as to have been without shame before his son.

Life in this educational institution gave a new twist to my sexuality. Physical education, which took an important part in our curriculum, gave me indeed more strength, but it did not tire me enough. It is possible that they should have given me more to do than those pupils whose resistance was not as great as mine. I derived my greatest pleasure from the large swimming pool of the school. When I found myself amidst all those nude boys for the first time (they were not even wearing swimming trunks), I was overcome by a strange feeling of shame. Almost automatically I kept my hands in front of my member, and, as I found out later, that was how the boys could notice the newcomers to their school.

After I had regained my composure a little bit, I looked at the bodies of my fellow pupils, first sneakily, then hesitantly and finally with bold daring. I did not like the skinny ones at all, but I liked the firm ones with light skin, especially those with a tight crotch and wide hips, the ones who looked like girls. And I also took a very good look at those private parts. I am sure that after the tenth time in the swimming pool I could have recognized every one of them by those parts, even if the rest of them had been hidden from sight. I also noticed something else, and that was that sometimes one of the boys, during the horseplay around the pool, especially in summer, would get a stiff member. Whenever the supervising teacher would notice such a thing, the boy in question received a cold spray from the garden hose, much to the delight of all the other boys who knew the meaning of this particular cure. We whispered about these things and the innocent ones who knew the effect but not the cause were quickly enlightened by the more experienced boys about the feelings that caused the hardening of the parts in question.

On my twelfth birthday, which was celebrated at school like everybody else's, I had an experience. Obviously I was used to receiving presents from home only. This time I received more than usual and among the presents was a picture of my three-year-old little brother whom I had never met. That made me feel quite sentimental and I cried a few hot tears. But somebody had noticed it, a blond beautiful boy whom I had always secretly liked very much but with whom I never had had any contact, possibly because he was a few years older than I was. He walked over to me and embraced me passionately. I should tell him about my troubles and he was going to be my best friend. He shoved a large piece of chocolate into my mouth and had me swear eternal friendship.

The whole thing was incredibly solemn. We were alone in the room, because all the other boys were already on their way to the gymnasium. I promised to be true to him forever and we kissed each other. And then we went after the others to the gym. It struck me as peculiar that, from then on, the boy avoided me as much as possible in the daytime. I asked him about it. “Is this your way of showing friendship?” I questioned. And he whispered harshly, “The others aren't supposed to know about it!” and he withdrew again from me. Whenever we were over at the swimming pool, I took great delight in watching his body. The firm calves and thighs, his full chest with pronounced nipples and private parts more beautiful than those of any of the other boys. He noticed that I was watching him and walked over to the dressing rooms. I waited a little while and then followed him. We were alone. The boy smiled at me, his lips slightly parted and showing his beautiful teeth. He stretched his arms over his head in one fantastic fluid movement. It is very possible that the memory of it makes the mental picture more beautiful than it really was, but I know for a fact that it made a tremendous impression upon me at the time.

“Quick, kiss me!” he called to me softly. In no time at all I was standing close to him, our nude bodies pressed together, our private parts touching. Suddenly he grabbed me firmly and started to wrestle. Soon he threw me and slapped me laughingly upon my behind. “You little devil,” he called out. “Did you think you could wrestle me?” I heard the laughter from two of his friends. He had just noticed them in time through the opened door, and, to fool them, he had started our mock wrestling battle. When we were back in the pool, he started to throw water at me, separating me from the others, and when we were alone he whispered quickly, “I hope I did not hurt you, baby.”

All day I walked around in a daze. As often as I could, at mealtime and during afternoon recreation, I tried to get close to him and touch him. I could feel how shivers would run through his body. When I became a little too bold, he told me to be more careful. Once two boys had been caught kissing each other and the most terrible things had happened. The boys had almost been thrown out of the institution, and now it was his task to watch over one of them. But actually, he protected both. Of course, I wanted to know their names, especially since I too wanted to be their friend. But he did not tell on them. “Not yet, I want to make sure first,” was all he said.

A few days after this great experience which, if it had continued, could have changed my entire life, my new friend came to see me and said, “This afternoon, right after the vespers, go to the old log cabin at the end of the park. You know where it is? Now, the entrance is nailed shut, but on the right side, just above the tile foundation, is one log that can be moved aside. It's easy to crawl through the opening. You will see what is going to happen. I cannot tell you anything now. But if you betray us, or if they catch you when you crawl through that opening, we will all be lost forever.”

I paid so little attention to the morning classes that the teacher cited me. My excitement grew to such a fever pitch that I was incapable of taking even one bite during lunch. Therefore I had to go to the school doctor and I was scared stiff that he would send me to bed. But, fortunately, everything seemed to simmer down.

At two o'clock I was called into the director's office. I started to tremble. Could he have found out anything about what I was about to do? But the director was very nice to me and even invited me to sit down next to him. Then he said, “You will have to take the next train and go home, my boy!” I was terribly scared, and my first thought was that my beautiful friend had squealed on me and that now several of the boys were going to be dismissed because they liked each other too much. The director ruffled my hair. “I don't think that; it will be too serious, my boy. Your father is ill and he would like to see you. Pack all your things together, because we don't know when you will be back.”

Then he appointed one of the teachers to accompany me. I listened and listened. Didn't the director say that Papa was ill? I tried my very best to visualize my father and I did not succeed. I could not remember at all how he looked and it frightened me enormously. And then I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to be in the log cabin right after the vespers. Wasn't it possible to take the night train? The director himself had told me that it was not that serious! I cannot remember how I arrived in my room, but suddenly I was there, stuffing my belongings from the drawers into my luggage. The teacher was standing right next to me, urging me to hurry. When we crossed the schoolyard, my beautiful friend stood in the window. I did not even have the time to say good-bye to my friends. It seemed as if the boy was crying while he waved to me. It became apparent to me that he knew the reason for my sudden departure.

That is why I never got to know the mystery of these boys. I suffered for a long time about that. My imagination supplied me with the most daring pictures, in both waking and sleeping hours. And even today I sometimes feel that I, who have experienced so much during a lifetime, have an emptiness somewhere, not in my intellectual life, but definitely in my emotional outlook, an emptiness which I cannot seem to fill. And it is most extraordinary that I have never met even one single boy with whom I used to go to that boarding school, not even my beautiful friend. Once, about fifteen years ago, during a long stopover in Berlin, I did try to look for him in “certain” circles in which I assumed he would now travel. He was from Berlin. But I had no success.

My father had died.

After the funeral, my former tutor came to visit us. He did not take much notice of me but went directly to see Mama and he talked at length to her in the red reception room where Mama also used to play the piano. I sat with my little brother, who had grown into a darling boy, and his nanny in the next room. Once in awhile the tutor's voice could be heard; he spoke very excitedly, but unfortunately I could not understand a word he said. He was incredibly serious when, after a long time, he finally left the room. Afterward I heard that my tutor had implored Mama to marry him. He was then barely twenty and Mama was well past thirty. She told me herself, when I had become an adult and her trusted friend, that she considered it an incredible audacity that a man, like Richard III, would woo the widow away from the dead body of her husband. She was afraid that he would do harm to himself, but the fact that he did not even try, made her decide to let him go.

At least I was allowed to stay with Mama. Even though I was overjoyed at the prospect, secretly I longed for the boarding school and especially for the hidden delights of the log cabin at the end of the park. It excited my imagination to such an extent that I started to lose weight. Mama was terribly concerned about the way I looked and she counseled our new family doctor, a young man who really adored her.

And one day he took me aside and talked to me about the secret sins of boys in such an extensive way and at such great length that I learned many things about which I had not even dreamed in my wildest imagination. Like anybody else would have done, I suppose, I denied any sexual misstep. Obviously I decided not to heed a single one of his warnings and I set out methodically to try out every single one of the means of self-pollution with which he had charged me and about which I had heard from him for the first time.

I belonged to those boys who do not lose their desire for a woman even during the wildest masturbation bouts because it was always the image of a naked woman that set my senses afire. Once I was caught in the act by our cook when I was standing naked in front of the mirror observing myself with pleasure, with my hands not entirely idle. She cried out in horror and ran away. When I thereupon quickly sneaked into the kitchen to talk to her and ask her not to tell anything to Mama, she said, “But, laddy, that's not how you should start off.”

And then she took my face between her rough hands and whispered into my ear that after all she slept all alone in the little servant's room next to the kitchen and why didn't I come to her at night once in awhile and that would be so much better and healthier than …. My hands reached for her enormous bosom. Suddenly she threw her arms around me and slobbered all over my face, sighing, “Oh, laddy, laddy!” Well, I am sure that the fat one meant well for me. And really, the next night, when everyone was asleep, I tiptoed into her room. She must have expected me, because when my hands, groping in the dark, tried to reach out for her, I felt that she had rolled up her coarse linen nightshirt. My fingers squeezed around the massive and slack breasts and played in the forest which was situated somewhat lower. The fat cook pretended to sleep. But suddenly her rough hands held me and lifted me toward her, tenderly as if she were afraid I would break. Too late, because while one hand was groping around her fullness, the other had sacrificed to the goddess of love. And when I was on top of that fat woman, who really thought she was doing me a favor, the horrible dank smell which emanated from her made me nauseous and I quickly slipped away from her and disappeared like a shadow.

I cried with impotent fury and shame when I returned to my own bed because the first opportunity to fulfill the most ardent wishes of my feverish fantasy had brought me nothing but physical disgust and a bad case of nausea. And the fat cook must really have disliked me tremendously because from that day on she did not even as much as look at me and within fourteen days she had given notice, leaving our home. Her pride had been most grievously hurt. And she was right. Didn't she try to be my benefactress and hadn't she been rejected? And all this just because her little room was not properly aired and heaven had promised her greater fulfillment than I had been able to deliver.

After the fat woman had left the house I still avoided that particular room, my disgust for it was that strong. Instead, I avidly looked at all the women that were well-formed and prettily dressed and most of all I stared at the firm outlines of my new piano teacher who desperately tried to teach me the proper fingering at this instrument.

Once, while she was telling me off, I put my head against her bosom and said, “But I cannot pay proper attention, because I always have to look at you.” The poor thing, who was not even pretty, was at a loss for words because probably nobody had ever said this to her. She pressed my face firmly against her breast and tried to be very motherly about it, telling me that she would not be harsh to me from now on, but I would have to apply myself a little bit more. I thereupon pressed my whole body against her, because her innate goodness excited me tremendously. She must have noticed that my feelings were rather carnal, because while she was talking about my piano lessons and music in general, we had gotten up and she pressed me against the only door in the room and performed right then and there with her hand that certain ritual which mine only performed secretly in the dark. When my head limped in sweet relaxation against her shoulder, she asked me, “Now, isn't that much better?” Then she left, though I had noticed that she too had become very much excited. From then on I positively loved my piano lessons. I was truly longing for them and I really paid attention because I knew that after playing the keys I would be instructed in other techniques of fingering, provided I had done my lesson well.

But the vacations also put an end to the piano lessons and when they were resumed in the fall I was told that I would have a different teacher, because Miss Olga was ill. A few years later I met her again and heard what really had been the matter, but I will talk about that later.

The new teacher was an old wrinkled little lady whose looks neither excited my senses nor my desire to learn. And therefore I have been a terrible piano player ever since.

When I was fifteen and about to become a senior, I also made the honor roll of students, thanks to one of the teachers who was kind enough to help me with my homework. He soon became one of Mama's best friends and I liked him most of all of Mama's best friends.

One of my favorite pastimes at that age (I must have been about sixteen) was to walk around on the streets between seven and eight, just before dinner time. The streets were then full of people on their way home from work and I knew all the streets through which the young factory girls walked. A lot of them allowed me to walk with them and take certain liberties. Whenever I managed to walk along with a whole group of them I was delighted to listen to their rude and vulgar expressions, and it never failed to surprise me how the young men dared to use the gestures and gropings, even in the more busy streets, to indicate their intentions. I often dared to brush very closely past one of these young girls or to put my hand somewhere against her every time I pretended to pass her. But to talk to one, or even walk alongside her, was more than I could dare.

But once, one of the girls talked to me! It was in a narrow side street which had very little traffic. I had been walking behind this young thing for quite awhile and she had noticed it. She obviously must have liked it and she had walked into that side street only so that I could talk to her. And when I did not do that, she suddenly turned around to me and said, “Well?” At that very moment a young lieutenant came out from nowhere. I presumed that he had followed this girl too./He shoved me rudely aside and said to me, “Why don't you go on home, you little self-polluter?” I heard the girl laugh out loudly, I felt the blood rush hotly to my cheeks and I turned around and ran.

I had never before felt so miserable. I balled my fists in impotent fury. Sobs strangled my throat. I know now that on that night I was truly ashamed of myself for the very first time. That horrible name which the young officer had given me burned in my mind, and I suddenly felt so guilty and so dishonored, before the female sex I loved so much, because those words had been uttered in front of a girl and her hysterical laughter still echoed in my head.

I swore eternal vengeance to that officer. I could not care less at that moment that I had only seen him for a few seconds on a barely lit side street and most likely would not have recognized him if I ever saw him again. But the next day came and I was compelled to go out on the street again. I was still terribly ashamed. How easy would it be to run into that same girl again and to be recognized by her! I believe that that was the awakening of my sexual pride, the feeling that you are there for the pleasure of the woman and that it is a sin to fail in the discharge of those duties. I most likely would have fallen back into my old habit if I had had a few days in which to lose this burning sensation of shame and to regain the strength necessary to break my voluntary abstinence, if it were not for the fact that Mama had a visitor … Miss Rita Hellmer.

Rita Hellmer is the same girl who was in the bathing establishment when I went there with my Mama into the ladies' department, staring at all those girls and women in bathing suits, and who had told her girl friend, “That little boy starts early!” When Miss Rita, who meanwhile also had become ten years older and more voluptuous (nevertheless she had remained unmarried), entered the room, I did not recognize her and most definitely did not remember her remark. She told me about that herself, and since she thought that I was remarkably well-developed and tall for my age, she honored me with a small conversation.

Since I could not take my gaze away from her, she remarked smilingly to Mama, “He still looks exactly the same as he did at the baths.” She laughed. When Mama was called away for a moment, she turned around to me and said several times, “My, those eyes of that boy … I really should not say 'boy' any longer, and I should take care of not being so familiar with you.” And she took my hand.

I was totally confused. Blood rushed to my head. I kept staring at Rita, who now leaned back into her chair with a relaxed demeanor which was to me the epitome of excitement. She smiled, leaned over to me and brushed the tip of my nose with her beautiful lips. “Don't stare so hard,” she whispered to me, in such a way as to indicate that only I should hear her words.

I grabbed for her small beautiful hand and pressed my lips against it. From the way she allowed me to do this and in the manner on which she released me when Mama returned, I knew for sure that she was not entirely disinterested in me. But at the same time I became terribly fearful that I would give away my secret to Mama and I got up to leave the room. Rita offered her hand and again, though less passionately, I was allowed to press my lips against those divine fingers.

I felt incredibly proud and happy; I walked as if upon a cloud. But, this day had even more in store for me. About half an hour after Miss Rita had left, I was called into Mama's room. “Miss Hellmer forgot her lace shawl and I want you to take it quickly to her home. Be very careful with it, it is priceless.” Hot and cold shivers ran through me. I turned around and went back into my room because I did not want Mama to see my excitement. I told her that I wanted to dress up before I left. Mama laughed. “You vain boy,” she called when I dashed up the stairs, “she may not even be home!”

I had put the lace shawl in the inside pocket of my jacket; once in awhile I would take it out and hold it against my lips. Obviously, I talked myself into the fact that Rita was deeply in love with me.

When I had reached the street where Rita's home was — she had inherited it after her parents died-I had become so excited that I was unable to walk one more step, I could no longer see straight. But soon I succeeded in walking very slowly in front of the houses and when I had finally reached her home, Rita was just on her way out. She acted rather surprised but she called me by my first name. And she looked at me sort of strangely, winking!

She was in the process of leaving, she told me, because she had to deliver something somewhere, but I was obviously so tired that she went back into her home with me and asked me to sit down in a low easy chair. She sat down opposite me. But I could no longer take it. Suddenly I got up, kneeled in front of her and threw my arms around her waist. I felt her fingers in my hair and then I heard how she softly whispered, “Wait.”

When she returned she was without her hat and wearing a long, soft dress which left her shoulders free. I walked toward her and wanted to embrace. “Oh you wild, wild boy,” she said, though she made no move to avoid me. She walked over to the door and secured its lock. And then she permitted me to throw myself upon her and kiss her like a madman. She finally fell down upon the couch, completely out of breath. “But boy, where did you learn all this,” she asked pantingly. I pulled the beautiful white dress down her bosom, causing a few buttons to break off. I tore at the lace chemise which showed the fullness of her breasts and I kissed and kissed and kissed. Then, with a tenderness of which a virgin is incapable toward a man, she taught me the ultimate expression of love between man and a woman; she took me, because I did not yet know how to give.

When I left two hours later, I had become a man.

Chapter Two. THE YOUNG MAN

The next one and a half years of my life were called “Rita Hellmer.” The passion with which I had started my relations with womanhood was so strong and insistent that Rita, during her moments of extreme ecstasy, held onto me tightly and cried out fearfully, “One of these days it might damage your health!” I closed her lips with my kisses. Those were fantastic hours. At first I met her every day right after school and I would leave her only around dinner time. An excuse was easily found: I was playing the piano together with Rita.

Her large home was laid out in an extremely favorable manner. The music room had its own entrance and it was connected with Rita's bedroom by an archway covered with tapestry. Her chambermaid and the cook had no business there and it would not even have been necessary to lock the bedroom door, which gave entrance to the rest of the house. Nevertheless, it remained locked whenever I was there. We also did not have to be afraid of unexpected visitors. Rita knew how to protect herself; she never received anyone unless the intended visit had been announced beforehand. That was her rule. And it should be obvious that any visit during our afternoon sessions was out of the question.

It always took too much time for me to gulp the tea and Rita had to shove the edibles that belonged to it practically down my throat. The cold cuts, the caviar and the candies. But she allowed me, while I was furiously chewing away at these things, to loosen her silken gown, take off her shoes and slip off her silk stockings and then her fine silken chemise which was the only thing left to take off. Thereupon we would sit at the piano. She had invented that one to drive me out of my mind.

A few bars, and then I could not take it any longer. And then Rita would start to undress me, very slowly. She would turn and move with hot desire and I would almost lose all control over myself. And when her delicious-smelling nudity would kneel in front of me to untie my shoelaces, staring continually at that part of my body which stretched out passionately and longingly toward her, I was usually no longer capable of containing myself. I would take her by the shoulders and push her down upon the soft carpet or the silken pillows which she had moved from the chairs down to the floor. At that moment all her willpower would depart from her body, she would throw her arms over her head, her muscles relaxed and any life which remained in her would only be audible because of her heavy breathing. But the moment she felt my hot forehead against her shoulder, she would embrace me wildly and not let go of me. I have never since found such an ardent aftermath with any woman. And the aftermath was usually followed by new desire.

Before I left her, I always had to go with her into her luxurious bathroom. And when we were together in the large tub, in the warm water, we would kiss and kiss till our desire would flare up again.

And when I came home, Mama would receive me with quiet tenderness. She would often stroke my hair. She knew where I came from and I believe that she also knew about everything else. When I had been to visit Rita day after day for a few weeks, Mama said to me, “You will have to limit your piano playing with Rita to three times a week; the other afternoons I will have a tutor help you with your homework, otherwise I am afraid that you will fail in school and we can't have that happen, can we?” I took Mama's hand and held it for a long time, thinking whether I should talk and tell her everything. But my natural feeling of tact held me back. I remained silent. I did not protest Mama's wish to limit my visits with Rita.

Come to think of it, that was not very surprising. After all, I had just come home from Rita. And when you tell someone who has just gorged himself at a banquet that he will have to go on a diet, it does not make much of an impression. Normally, Mama would insist on my going to bed as soon as we had had our dinner together, but that night she allowed me to stay up for one more hour. She was so sweet that I suddenly embraced her and kissed her. Then she said, “Oh, you wild, wild boy.”

At that particular moment I did not know whether it was she or whether it was Rita who said that. I held Mama's head firmly against my chest and then I slid down and put my face in her lap. I remained that way for a long time and was very thankful to Mama that she, too, did not speak a word.

An hour later, when I was in bed and trying to study a little before I would fall asleep, I had a sudden inspiration which intrigued me so much that I got up and sat down in front of my desk to write it down. The idea was not at all original but it caused my feelings for Rita to change and it also gave me a chance to put my feelings down on paper and to write down my experiences. This is how my diaries were written which I have kept up till today and from which these pages found their inspiration.

One should not laugh about keeping a diary. If they mirror the most intimate part of a human life, then they are priceless. By writing an honest diary one can be of tremendous service to those who make it their life's work studying human nature and who may one day acquire possession of such a diary. Only a very few who write down their experiences are capable of telling the complete truth. Most of us do not have the courage to look at ourselves naked in that mirror. A false feeling of shame and modesty forces us to hide and even justify our doings to ourselves. To avoid the truth of which we are afraid, we will wrack our brains to come up with fantasies which are more satisfying and we are only happy when we have been successful in replacing an unpleasant truth or an experience which we really had or a thought that flashed through our minds with something nice and kind which has never happened at all.

I thought about my entire affair with Rita and finally I came to a sudden conclusion that I was playing the role of the eternal giver. Her submission was not a granting but an avid taking without any feeling of gratitude. Suddenly I said to myself, the way she takes you, she has been taking many others before you, not because she wants partners to share her delights but simply to satisfy her own lust. It occurred to me that she might not care at all that I had to limit my visits to her home.

But no matter how these and similar thoughts had haunted me, the next day I felt impelled to visit Rita again. I was passionate and wild and I told myself that I was the lucky one who was received happily by her, though nevertheless I was more observant than usual. Despite all this, it was fantastic doing it that particular day. I can still remember it clearly. After some gigantic outbursts of passion we were resting, our bodies entwined, upon the soft carpet. Our breaths mixed, I can remember that we had just enough common sense left not to forget our breathing. Otherwise I felt that dying at this ecstatic moment would be my greatest happiness.

We had fallen asleep, breast against breast, mouth upon mouth. Suddenly I got up, sat on my knees and tried to lift up Rita. At first she resisted. Then I told her harshly, “I want you to embrace me, you have to kiss me and I order you to tell me that you love me!” She laughed and got up on her knees, too. We sat opposite each other on the soft carpet, eye to eye. Half relaxed, she spread her arms and called out, “Kiss me!”

The way she sat there in front of me, her arms spread out, her body slightly reclined, her beautiful breasts jutting provocatively, her eyes closed and her lips half opened, she seemed to me to be the very embodiment of a bacchante. I kissed this desirable body everywhere and she started writhing with renewed passion and vigor. She let herself fall back upon the carpet, her arms raised above her head and we went at it wild, wilder, wildest.

Only after I came painfully out of this state of utter mania, I suddenly experienced a disillusionment like I had never felt before. I absolutely refused to go with her into the bathtub and pulled away when she tried to grab my hands. She acted very surprised but then she started laughing and said, “You should stay away for a couple of days, little one, I think I am giving you too much.” She lifted her breasts with her hands and held them out to me. “Aah, I would have loved to give you so much more!”

It scared me. Of course, she must have noticed that because she said with a motherly air, “But no, no!” Meanwhile she took me by the hand and led me straight into her bathroom. I did not resist any longer. She told me to get into the tub. I did. She got in, too. I felt her kisses, moist and hot, I felt her soft fingers stroke up and down my body, but suddenly I did not feel anything any longer. A sweet, lingering weakness took hold of my body and I became incapable of feeling and thought. The incredible fear which Rita must have experienced became clear to me when I woke up. She had not been strong enough to lift me out of the tub so, while she had lifted my head above the water with her left hand, she had taken out the drain stop with her right one. That is how I wound up in an empty tub. Rita was rubbing me with sharp smelling essences, my chest, my forehead and my temples. And when I opened my eyes, her first words were, “It is too much for you.”

I stared at her for a while and then I grabbed automatically for her breasts which were closest to my face since she was leaning over the tub. She said, “Don't start that again,” and she laughed teasingly. But her whole body started to shiver and she looked very white. I tried to get up and was successful though I had a sudden attack of vertigo and had to hold on tightly to Rita. She must have misunderstood my motive, because she cried out, “Do you really trust yourself to do it once more?” She also grabbed for my member. I tried to avoid her hand. Disappointed, she said, “You must go now, my boy. Are you sure you feel well enough?”

During all that time I had not said a word, but now I asked for my clothes. They had been left in the bedroom and thus we went in there. Suddenly I looked into the large mirror which was standing between the two high windows on each side of it, a red light spreading a warm glow. I saw Rita and myself, completely nude, in the clear glass. Of course, I had seen the two of us in the nude quite frequently, as a matter of fact we never wore anything when we were together. But this time it seemed to me something incredibly enchanting.

As if in a dream I turned away from the mirror toward the nude woman. What a beautiful back, the fabulous white roundness of her behind, the finely modeled, slightly rounded belly, those gorgeous legs, and above all … those breasts! I just stared and Rita would not have been a woman if she had not considered my uninterrupted stare as a nice compliment. But all I did was look and I had no intention of taking possession of her once more. But suddenly she became excited and exclaimed thickly, “I can't stand it any longer!”

She stared directly at my member, took it in both hands, kneeled down in front of me and she kissed it! To no avail. I barely had the strength to look down. I saw her whole body shaking. Then she pulled herself together, got up and put on her dressing gown. I put on my clothes, too, and when I was ready, I felt quite a lot better. Except, I was so empty and experienced a strange cramping in the area of my heart. Rita said, “Now, I don't want you to come tomorrow, you hear me, and also not the day after tomorrow, you wild, wild man!” She took me into her arms and kissed my forehead, eyes and mouth and pushed me toward the door. “We must use our heads, my boy. And if you still don't feel well tomorrow, you should go and see a doctor. But be sure he does not know you, promise?” One more kiss and I found myself standing out on the street.

How I succeeded in getting home that day still is not clear to me. I walked as if in a dream. Mama had gone to the theater, so that I had the good fortune of not having to find an excuse for my being so late. Even though it was only eight o'clock, I went directly to bed after I had drunk a few little glasses of liqueur. I fell asleep immediately and did not wake up till that next morning because someone was knocking loudly on my door.

One look in the mirror made me realize that it would be much better for me if Mama did not get to see me that morning. The gray shadow under my eyes reached all the way to my cheeks, and the color of my skin was sallow and yellowish. I rubbed my face with my hands in an attempt to create some color. While washing up I saw my naked torso in the mirror, which in turn made me think of Rita again and a wild desire to be with her that instant overcame me. I wanted to see her exactly the same way when I awakened from my fainting spell, and without seeing if Mama had already awakened and without touching my breakfast I walked out of the house.

To Rita's.

Her chambermaid opened the door for me and looked at me in utter surprise. Then she told me that Madame Rita was still asleep. Finally I pushed the girl aside and forced my way into the house. The door to Rita's bedroom was locked. I ran against it. The next moment Rita opened the door. And before she had had a chance to recuperate from her surprise to see me at this unusual hour, I pushed her ahead of me and stood in her bedroom. The next moment, however, I backed up against the door in utter confusion and surprise. There, in the bed, right in front of me, sat a young man … mother-naked! He glanced shyly in my direction. Rita did not lose her composure for one single moment. She threw off her silken gown, which was the only piece of clothing she wore, stretched out her arms while walking toward me and said, “How sweet of you to come and see me! I hope you do feel a lot better again!” I could not utter a single word and did not even try to ward off Rita when she pulled me toward her and put her head against my shoulder, purring modestly, “There was no other way, I simply could not stand the thought of being alone.”

And she started to unbutton my vest. But at that moment the naked man in bed cried out, “You filthy whore!”

I automatically moved toward him but Rita held me back. “Oh, why can't you be sensible,” she whispered to me, and to the other one, “Only the nights are for you. Who could guess that this dumb boy would show up this early?”

She walked over to the bed and smilingly bent over to the young man, kissing him. “You have so much more staying power,” she gurgled lustily. And before I had had time to comprehend what was going on, I saw how the young man pulled Rita toward him and proceeded to throw himself upon her. I heard their passionate groaning, which I knew so well from her, and I saw how she held on to this man's nude body, writhing wildly and enjoying his debaucheries tremendously.

I have never before or since felt as lonely as during those few moments. I left the room and closed the door behind me. Away from there was all I wanted. But then I sank into the closest chair and started to sob. How long I sat there I cannot remember. For a long time I heard the groaning in the other room, then it became silent. The exhaustion after the storm. That, too, I knew so well. I began to think. I now remember quite clearly that I was contemplating returning to that bedroom and strangling Rita. As a first thought, that seemed to me the most natural thing to do. Then it occurred to me that the man on the bed first had called her dirty names and secondly had almost immediately thereupon taken possession of her. I thought about this contradiction for such a long time that I sobered up completely. I sat down at Rita's white writing desk and started to compose a long letter to her which I know now must have been a very stupid one and it most likely made no impression upon her whatsoever. But my pride forced me to do it and I accused her of sharing the most beautiful, most sacred thing I had ever possessed with somebody she had just picked up from the street. I also told her in that letter that she was the one who lost because I had always been the giver whereas she was never anything else but the taker. I was very satisfied with myself when I had finished the letter … and I left. Her maid, who was waiting for me to leave, took my hand and said, “Don't take it too hard, dear young sir, it is impossible to be jealous when you are one of Madame Rita's visitors. Look, I am not jealous, either. Isn't this the sweetest?” And she pressed my hand against her breasts, looking up at me longingly. But I pushed her away from me and ran out of the house.

Of course, it had become too late to go to school. I aimlessly wandered into the city with the intention of considering my recent ordeal from every possible angle. But I never got around to doing that because suddenly I felt as if Rita was a person about whom I had never cared at all. I was totally incapable of even disliking her for what she had done to me. But I could not rid myself of a certain curiosity: I would have given years of my life to know who the young man was that was visiting Rita this morning?

No matter how hard I tried, I could not remember his face. All I could recall was his strong body and his white skin. And I had to admit to myself that the sight of those two was no longer as horrible. As a matter of fact I could not even find it shameless. I almost envied them because of their courage. They did not care about me; they wanted to do what they felt like doing at that particular moment and … they did it! Meanwhile I had dozed off while sitting on a bench in the park. I suddenly woke up with a start … it was past noon! I was terribly hungry and I went home. Mama looked at me with a worried expression. At first she did not say a thing, but after I had eaten she hesitantly offered the following opinion, “Is it possible that your piano playing at Rita's, after a strenuous day at school, is not a little bit too much for your strength?”

I could feel the blood rush to my head and I needed a moment before I could answer Mama. “I will not visit Rita any longer,” I said. I would have loved to say more to Mama, I mean I could have confided in her completely. But I did not speak and Mama never mentioned Rita again.

It is curious. I suddenly became a serious student at school and I worked hard. And not once did I have the slightest desire to see Rita again. About three or four weeks went by when I overheard one of the maids announce to Mama that Miss Rita was here to visit her. I said to Mama, “You cannot receive her!”

My expression may have betrayed me; Mama had herself excused. At that moment Rita had disappeared out of my life forever. I did hear a few years later that she had become a princess and had been introduced at the Imperial Court, but I never saw her again.

I have heard quite a lot about her, but that does not concern my life and it left me emotionally cold. But I did meet the one with whom I shared the servicing of Rita's eternal desire (though I am now no longer sure that he was the only one). I met him a few weeks afterward. One night while I was looking at the window display of one of the book stores, a young man walked up to me and started a conversation. I took him for a laborer till I saw his hands: they were clean, white and soft. At first I did not understand what he was talking about when he said, “Don't you know what happened to her? Her house is all locked up!”

He noticed that I did not know what it was all about and he started to laugh.

“I must admit that the last time we met, I was not wearing any clothes.”

Now I understood. He had awakened my curiosity, and I walked with him into a more quiet side street. He told me that Rita had kept him busy all morning of that day when I had surprised the two of them. She had asked him to stay on for several more days. He lived with her as if in paradise till he had become so worn out that he could no longer stay awake. She had let him go to regain his strength. And when he returned he had found out that the house was locked. The doorman told him that Miss Rita had left for a long journey and would not return within the foreseeable future.

It made a curious impression upon me when the young man exclaimed, “I will forgive that whore anything, as long as she comes back. I will never get one like that for the rest of my life. She was too good for one alone, and one only was not enough for her! Oh, God, dear God! You know, I would like to die right on top of her!”

He became even sadder when I admitted that I had not heard anything from Rita and, as a matter of fact, not even thought about her. “You asshole,” was all he said when he turned his back to me and walked away.

I do not deny that I did not feel a certain admiration for this guy who obviously was proud of the fact that he had been the giver to this female to such an extent that all he finally wanted was to go to sleep. And not only that, but he seemed to long for the moment that he could go on giving and he did not seem to mind that this particular female also took from others because she drained the strength from one much quicker and faster than she could extinguish the fire which burned hot and passionately within her.