Eveline

BOOK THREE
Chapter 1

"A temperament like yours, my darling child, requires constant attention. You are no ordinary girl. You have need of change, of variety, of sufficient food to keep you in health. You have developed within you so much vitality, so much necessity for sensual gratification-if I may use the term-that you have urgent need to feed the fire. Like the ancient flame which burned-and still burns- on the altars of followers of Zoroaster, you must keep it going; replenishing it as may be necessary, never letting it languish. If it does so, you will not be well. Eveline will not be herself."

"I feel the force of what you say, dear papa. I love you devotedly- but-"

"Yes, my child-I see it-I know it. At my age, with all my various occupations and engagements, I am not likely to be all to you that your nature demands. When you are married-"

"Do not speak of that, dear. It will be time enough hereafter. I do not anticipate any pleasure from my married state-not in the sense my darling papa can bestow it. I look forward to it with disgust rather than with satisfaction. I feel very dejected on the subject."

"Listen to me, Eveline. Your nature requires sexual excitement. You know it as well as I do. It is medicine to you. You must take your medicine; or rather, being healthy, the beau ideal of a perfect and beautiful girl, your nature, having once tasted, requires constant nourishment. Take it then, only be careful that you imbibe naught but what is good and wholesome. I would be your physician, if you would follow my advice."

"I am always ready to be guided by your counsel, dear papa."

"Well then, Eveline, having sufficiently explained my views, which I am sure you understand, I will obtain you the necessary medicine."

"And I will take it, for whatever you provide for little Eveline is sure to be nice."

"It shall be something extra nice. Something that will set your pretty mouth watering-your eyes sparkling-your whole being alert with anticipation of enjoyment. Something that will wring sobs of delight from your darling heart-sighs of the most intense rapture from your parted lips-something which shall possess your body and your senses with ecstasy-something irresistible in its noble manhood-solid, stiff, and strong."

"Oh, papa! You excite me too much. I really long for this delicious medicine. When may I commence my course of it? Or is it only in small doses, to be taken sparingly? I am ready for all. Let it be large and solid-stiff and strong."

"Your capacity for enjoyment is wonderful, my child. You require a male well furnished with sexual organ, in full vigor; perfect health; robust and extraordinarily well developed. I will provide you such. I will enable you to take your fill of pleasure without risk-without danger."

"I think you are right, papa. In the meantime, I want this thing which is already so stiff in my little hand. See how its head shines? It enters! Oh! Goodness, dear! How you excite your little girl! Push now! Now! Oh! Oh! It comes! It is squirting into me! Oh! Give me all your delicious seed! Dear love! You kill me with pleasure!"

"I have in store for you, my darling child, a delicious treat of the senses. To see you enjoy it will be to me a supreme excitement. We will roll in ecstasy. Our senses shall float in a world of pleasure. Give me only a few days to arrange all. Your medicine will take a novel form. The medium is deaf and dumb!"

"Oh, papa! How dreadful."

"By no means, Eveline. We only desire the means-the instrument. So long as that has no surrounding which are positively objectionable or repulsive, it matters little-we shall possess all we require. I promise you that in the present case it is neither, but, on the other hand, attractive in every sense. You will be charmed and even sympathetic when you know more."

"You excite my curiosity, papa. When may I take my first dose?"

"As soon as we are back in town together. They say the implement of love is immense, and that its owner is singularly gifted in sexual gratifications."

"Oh, papa! You are too good to your naughty little Eveline. You offer her a banquet-it will not be medicine. It will be a draught of pleasure. My mouth waters already. I long to taste it."

Percy had been at Eastbourne three days. We had not altogether lost our time. I determined to run up to town. I went by an early train alone. I entered the station some fifteen minutes before the train started. On the platform was a gentlemanly looking man in a tweed suit. I thought I had seen his face before. I could not recall where. We passed each other. He looked pointedly at me. Certainly I knew his features. I never forget, if I take an interest in a man's appearance. I liked the look of this tall, well-built fellow in tweeds. He appeared to be about thirty-five to forty years of age-hale and hearty. I gave him one of my glances as he passed me.

"This way, miss. First class-no corridors by this train. You will be all right here. You're all alone at present."

"Thank you, guard. Does the train go up without stopping?"

"Stops at Lewes, miss. That's all-then right up."

I saw my tall friend pass the carriage. Another glance. He stopped-hesitated-then opened the door and got in. He took a seat opposite me. The newspaper appeared to engross his attention until the whistle sounded. We were off.

"Would you object to my lowering the window? These carriages are stuffy. The morning is so warm."

I made no objection, but smilingly gave consent.

"How calm and beautiful the sea looks! It seems a pity to leave it."

"Indeed I think so-especially for London."

"You are going up to London? How odd! So am I."

I could not be mistaken. I had seen him somewhere before.

"I shall miss the sea very much. We have no sea bath in Manchester. I love my morning dip."

It struck me like a flash. I remembered him now.

"You must have enjoyed it very much, coming from an inland city."

"Well, yes, you see I had a good time. They looked well after me. Always had my machine ready."

"I have no doubt of that."

"No. 33. A new one-capital people-very fine machine."

I suppose I smiled a little. He laughed in reply as if he read my thought. Then he folded up his paper. I arranged my small reticule. It unfortunately dropped from my hand. He picked it up and presented it to me. His foot touched mine. We conversed. He told me he lived near Manchester. He had been to Eastbourne for rest. His business had been too much for him, but he was all right now. His gaze was constantly upon me. I kept thinking of his appearance all naked on the platform of the bathing machine as old David Jones rowed me past. We stopped at Lewes. My companion put his head out of the window. He prevented the entry of an old lady by abusing the newspaper boy for his want of activity. The train started again.

"I think Eastbourne is one of the best bathing places on the coast. You know where the gentlemen's machines are?"

"I think I know where they keep them."

"Well, I was going to say-but-well-what a funny girl you are! Why are you laughing?"

"Because a funny idea struck me. I was thinking of a friend."

His foot was pushed a little closer-very perceptible was the touch. He never ceased gloating on my person. My gloves evidently had an especial attraction for him. Meanwhile, I looked him well over. He was certainly a fine man. He roused my emotions. I permitted his foot to remain in contact with my boot. I even moved it past his, so that my ankle touched his. His face worked nervously. Poor man, no wonder! He gave me a searching look. Our glances met. He pressed my leg between his own. His fingers were trembling with that undefined longing for contact with the object of desire I so well understood. I smiled.

"You seem very fond of the ladies."

I said it boldly, with a familiar meaning he could not fail to understand. I glanced at his leather bag in the rack above.

"I cannot deny the soft impeachment. I am. Especially when they are young and beautiful."

"Oh, you men! You are dreadfully wicked. What would Mrs. Turner say to that?"

I laughed. He stared with evident alarm. It was a bold stroke. I risked it. Either way I lost nothing.

"How do you know I am married?"

My shaft had gone home. He had actually missed the first evident fact. He picked it up, however, quickly, before I could reply.

"It appears you know me. You know my name."

"Well, yes. You see I am not blind."

I pointed to the label on the bag above his head. It was his turn to laugh.

"Ah! You have me there! What a terribly observant young lady you must be."

He seized my hand before I could regain my attitude. He pressed it in both his own.

"You will not like me any the less-will you? I thought we were going to be so friendly."

"On the contrary-they say married men are the best."

Up to this point, my effrontery had led him on. He must have felt he was on safe ground. My last remark was hardly even equivocal. He evidently took it as it was intended. I was equally excited. The man and the opportunity tempted me on. I wanted him. I was delighted with his embarrassment-with his fast increasing assurance. I made no attempt to withdraw my hand. He crossed over. He occupied the seat beside me. My gloved hand remained in his.

"I am so glad you think so. You do not know how charming I think you. Married men ought to be good judges, you know."

"I suppose so. I rather prefer them."

I looked in his face and laughed as I uttered the words. He brought his very close. He passed his left arm round my waist. I made no resistance. The carriage gave a sympathetic jerk as it rushed along. Our faces touched. His lips were in contact with mine. It was quite accidental, of course, the line is so badly laid. We kissed.

"Oh, you are nice! How pretty you are."

He pressed his hot lips again to mine. I thought of the sight I had seen on the bathing machine. My blood boiled. I half closed my eyes. I let him keep his mouth upon mine. He pressed me to him. He drew my light form to his stout and well-built frame as in a vice.

I put my right foot up on the opposite seat. He glared at the pretty tight little kid boot. He was evidently much agitated.

"Ah! What a lovely foot!"

He touched it with his hand. His fingers ran over the soft pale cream-colored leather. I wore a pair of papa's prime favorites. He did not stop there. The trembling hand passed on to my stocking, advancing by stealthy degrees. It was then he tried to push forward the tip of his tongue.

"How beautiful you are and how gentle and kind!"

His arm enfolded me still closer, my bosom pressed his shoulder. His hand pressed further and further up my stocking. I closed my knees resolutely. I gave a hurried glance around.

"Are we quite safe here, do you think?"

"Quite safe, and, as you see, quite alone."

Our lips met again. This time I kissed him boldly. The tip of his active tongue inserted itself between my moist lips.

"Ah! How lovely you are! How gloriously pretty!"

"Hush! They might hear us in the next carriage. I am frightened."

"You are deliciously sweet. I long for you dreadfully."

Mr. Turner's hand continued its efforts towards my knees. I relaxed my pressure a little. He reached my garters above them. In doing so he uncovered my ankles. He feasted his eyes on my calves daintily set off in openwork stockings of a delicate shade of pale brown.

"Oh, you are too bad, really! I ought not to let you do that-no, really! Pray do not do so-oh!"

It was a delicious game of seduction. I enjoyed his lecherous touches. He was constantly becoming more confident of his sudden and uncontrollable passion. He strained me to him. His breath came quick and sweet upon my face. I lusted for this man's embrace beyond all power of language to convey. His warm hand reached my plump thigh. I made pretense to prevent his advance.

"Pray-oh, pray do not do that! Oh!"

A sudden jerk as we apparently sped over some points. I relaxed my resistance a trifle. He took instant advantage of the movement. His finger was on the most sensitive part of my private parts. It pressed upon my clitoris. I felt the little thing stiffen, swell and throb under the touch of a man's hand. His excitement increased. He drew me even closer. He pressed my warm body to his. His kisses, hot and voluptuous, covered my face and neck.

"How divinely sweet you are! The perfume of your lovely breath is so rapturously nice. Do let me-do-do! I love you so!"

He held me tight with his left arm. He had withdrawn his right. I was conscious he was undoing his trousers. He had left my skirts in disorder. I saw him pull aside his protruding shirt. I secretly watched his movements out of a corner of my eye while he kept my face close to his. Then appeared all that I had seen on the bathing machine, but standing fiercely erect, red-headed and formidable-a huge limb. He thrust it into full view.

"My darling! My beauty! See this! See! See to what a state you have driven me. You will let me-won't you?"

"Oh, for shame! Let me go-pray do not do that-you must not. Your finger hurts. Don't-pray don't! Oh, dear! Oh! Oh!"

The jolting of the carriage favored his operations. His hand was again between my thighs. His second finger pressed my throbbing button. My parts were bedewed with the fluid begotten by desire. He was inspecting the premises before taking possession. I only hoped he would not find the accommodation insufficient for so large a tenant.

"Oh, pray don't! Oh, goodness! What a man you are!"

With a sudden movement, he slipped round upon his knees, passing one of my legs over his left arm and thus thrust me back on the soft spring seat of the carriage. He threw up my clothes. He was between my thighs. My belly and private parts were exposed to his lascivious operations. I looked over my dress as I attempted to right myself. I saw him kneeling before me in the most indelicate position. His trousers were open. His huge privates stood menacingly before my eyes. He had so far loosened his clothing that his testicles were out. His belly was covered with crisp black hair. I saw all in that quick feverish glance. I saw the dull red head of his big limb drawn downward by the little string as it faced me, and the slit-like opening through which the men spurt their white venom.

He audaciously took my hand, gloved as it was, and placed it upon his member. It was hard and rigid as wood.

"Feel that-dear girl! Do not be frightened. I will not hurt you. Feel-feel my prick!"

He drew me forward. I felt him as requested. I had ceased all resistance. My willing little hand clasped the immense instrument he called his "prick."

"Now put it there yourself, little girl. It is longing to be into you."

"Oh-my good heavens! It will never go in! You will kill me!"

Nevertheless I assisted him to his enjoyment. I put the nut between the nether lips. He pushed while firmly holding me by both hips. My parts relaxed-my vagina adapted itself, as I had been told it could, without injury to the most formidable of male organs. The huge thing entered me. He thrust in fierce earnest. He got it fairly in.

"Oh! My God! I'm into you now! Oh! Oh! How delicious! Hold tight! Let me pull you down to me-so-oh! My God! How nice! How soft! How exquisite!"

I passed my left arm through the strap. My right clutched him round the neck. He put down his hand. He parted the strained lips round his huge intruding weapon. Then he seized me by the buttocks. He strained me towards him as he pushed. My head fell back-my lips parted. I felt his testicles rubbing close up between my legs. He was into me to the quick!

"Oh, dear! Dear! You are too rough! You hurt-you push too hard! My goodness me! How you are tearing me. Oh! Oh! Ah! It is too much! You darling man! Push! Push! Oh!"

It was too much pleasure. I threw my head back again. I grasped the cushions on either side. I could not speak. I could only gasp and whine now. I moved my head from side to side as he lay down on my belly and enjoyed me. His thing-stiff as a staff-worked up and down my vagina. I could feel the big plum-like gland pushed forcibly against my womb. I spent over and over again. I was in heaven.

He ground his teeth. He hissed. He lolled his head. He kissed me on the lips. He breathed hard and fast. His pleasure was delicious to witness.

"Oh! Oh! Hold tight, love. I am in an agony of pleasure. I–I-can't tell you! I-never-tasted-such delicious poking! Oh! Ugh!"

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! You are so large! So strong!"

"Don't move! Don't pinch my prick more than you can help, darling girl. Let us go on as long as possible. You are coming again. I can feel you squeezing me! Oh! Wait a moment-so-hold still!"

"Oh! I can feel it at my womb-you are up to my waist! Oh, dear! Oh! Oh! You are so stiff."

"I cannot hold much longer. I must spend soon!"

Bang! Bang!! Bang!!!

The train was passing over the points at Reigate. The alarm was sufficient to retard our climax. It acted as a check to his wild excitement-to the coming climax.

"Hold quite still, you sweet little beauty. We do not stop. The speed is quickening again. Now push! Push! Push! Is that nice? Do you like my big prick? Does it stir you up? You are right, my sweet. I can feel your little womb with the tip."

He assisted me to throw my legs up over his shoulders. He seemed to enter me further than ever.

"Oh! You're so large! Oh! Good Lord! Go on slowly-don't finish me yet! It's so-so-nice! You're making me come again. Oh my!"

"No, dear, I won't finish you before I can help it. You are so nice to poke slowly! Do you like being finished! Do you-oh, my God! There, push! Push! Do you like to feel a man come?"

"Oh! Now so hard! There! Oh, my! Must-must I tell you-I–I love to feel-to feel a man spend-all the sweet sperm."

"You'll feel mine very-very soon, you beautiful little angel. Oh! I shall swim you in it! There! My prick is in now up to the balls-oh! Oh! How you nip it-oh!"

He gave some exquisite short stabs with his loins. His thing, as hard as wood, was up my belly as far as its great length could reach. He sank his head on my shoulder.

"Hold still-I'm spending! Oh, my God! How luscious!"

I felt a great gush come from him. It flowed from him in quick hot jets. He groaned in his ecstasy. I opened my legs. I raised up my loins to receive it. I clutched right and left at anything and everything-I spent furiously. He gave me a quantity. I was swimming in it. At length he desisted and released me.

A few minutes sufficed in which to rearrange ourselves decently. Mr. Turner asked me many questions. I fenced some-I answered others. I let him believe I was professionally employed in a provincial company. I told him I had been unwell and had been resting a short time at Eastbourne. He was delicate enough not to press for particulars, but he asked for an address. I gave him a country post office. In a few minutes more we stopped on the river bridge to deliver up tickets.

The train rolled into the station. My new friend made his adieux. He dexterously slipped two sovereigns into my glove as he squeezed my hand. I was glad. It proved the complete success of my precautions.

I hailed a hansom and drove direct to Swan and Edgar's. Outside the station, my cab stopped in the crowd. A poor woman thrust a skinny arm and hand towards me with an offer of a box of matches. I took them and substituted one of the sovereigns. As I alighted in Piccadilly, a ragged little urchin made a dash to turn back the door of my cab. He looked half starved.

"Have you a mother? How many brothers and sisters?"

"Six of us, lydy; muvver's out o' work."

"Take that home as quick as you can."

"Blimy! A thick 'un! There ain't no ruddy copper lookin' to pinch it off me! Muvver'll plant it away, so as 'ow favver won't have no cause to bash her for it."

He had never been taught to say "thank you." He took one hasty glance in either direction and darted away in the throng.

I discharged the cab. I made quite sure I was not followed.

Meanwhile my most recent companion was, no doubt, speeding on towards Manchester where he said he must dine that evening with Mrs. Turner. I couldn't help but hope the good lady was reasonable with her spouse.

I drove home. I found Mrs. Lockett ready to receive me. It was yet morning. I lunched alone. John was radiant with happiness.

"No more chicken, thank you, John. How is Robin? There are some ginger nuts for him in a bag on the hall table. You see I did not forget him."

"Thank you very much, miss. It's been very dull since you went away. Mrs. Lockett ain't very lively company. As for Robin, miss, he's been as sulky as possible; the poor thing is left quite alone. In the mornings he comes up the bedclothes and he stares me in the face, miss, as much as to ask where you've gone to. I'm ashamed to look at him."

"Poor dear! Why, John, how shocking! It's quite stiff now!"

I had only just tapped it with my fingertips through the red plush breeches. The unruly monster was already stretching itself down his plump thigh as its owner leaned forward to pour me out a glass of wine. The door was shut. I let fly a button. My hand passed inside.

"Oh, John! It's shameful! It's bigger than ever!"

I gave a twist of the wrist. His fat member sprang out into view. I squeezed it as I examined the rubicund top.

What a beauty it was! The true perfection of what such things ought to be. I pulled down the skin. I delighted to see the effect of my touches.

"He likes that, John, doesn't he? He seems to enjoy being stroked just like a tame cat."

"Yes, miss-puts up his back for it. You can almost hear him purr."

"You must not let him get too much excited. We will keep all that for tonight, John. I think we must let him out then, but you cannot be too cautious. Mrs. Lockett sleeps in the wing, doesn't she?"

"Yes, miss. She always turns the key of the door on the landing. A fine scraping it makes too when she locks it at night. The maid sleeps on the top floor. There is no one on your floor now, miss."

I made my arrangements. I finished my lunch. I dressed myself very plainly to go out. John called a cab. I drove straight to my bootmaker in Great Castle Street. Monsieur Dalmaine was not an ordinary bootmaker. He was an artist in boots. He only made for ladies, and his terms would be considered extravagant by the ordinary customer. His shop was small and unpretentious. Personally he was stout, short, and fair for a Frenchman. He might have been some eight and thirty. His wife kept the accounts and assisted him to collect them. His boots and shoes were not ordinary either. They were the perfection of his art. He took a real pride in them. The assiduity of the poor man to turn out boots to my satisfaction-and what appeared to be even of more importance, to his own-was sufficiently apparent. He was in the shop when I entered. Madame Dalmaine was out collecting accounts as usual of a Monday.

"Good morning, Monsieur Dalmaine. Are my boots, couleur creme, ready? Have you completed the slight alterations to the bleu pale lace boots?"

"Both are at your service now, miss. I will try them on if you will step into the showroom."

There was a small well-arranged room behind the shop with several glass cases. In these were deposited boots which had been made for celebrities. They were by no means old or worn, but this extraordinary man had obtained them from the ladies in question after they had only served on a single occasion. Monsieur Dalmaine persisted that they did not please him. He thereupon supplied a second pair. He retained the first for his musee-as he called it.

I sat myself in the easy chair in which he fitted all his lady customers. It was a great event if he made a pair of boots in a fortnight. He had, however, prepared mine considerably within that period. He brought out both pairs. He held them up. He turned them about. His keen little gray eyes sparkled with evident delight.

"Les voila, mademoiselle! But they are superb! It is not often that I make for so beautiful a foot. Mon Dieu! One would say the foot of mademoiselle had been sculptured by Canova himself. It is a study."

He knelt before me. He placed my foot in its openwork silk stocking upon his knee. He gave one affectionate look at this object. He cast another at his work. He then proceeded to fit the artistic little boot in its place. Several times he inserted my foot. As often he withdrew the boot for some trifling adjustment. I tired of his minuteness. I amused myself in worrying the good man by avoiding his grasp. Sometimes I slipped my glassy, silk-covered little foot on one side-sometimes on the other. At last it slid from the approaching boot and was jerked between his thighs. There it alighted on the muscular development of Monsieur Dalmaine's most private personal effects. I distinctly felt a something pulsate beneath my toes. The artist in ladies' boots flushed. He was arranging the lace of the new chaussure.

"Please give it to me, Monsieur Dalmaine. I have not yet examined it myself. Is not the toe a little more pointed than usual? You know I do not wear those hideously impossible toes to my boots."

He handed it up, holding my ankle as he did so. I rubbed my wicked foot a little very gently against his person as I took it from his hand. At the same time, the man must have seen the half-comical, half-lecherous glance with which I met his eye. A sudden inspiration almost overwhelmed me. This artist cordonnier was a victim to his own creations!

He had fallen in love with his own work, like Pygmalion with his statue. The discovery set me on fire at once. What joy to play on this man's weakness! I allowed him to fit on the boot. He smoothed down the yielding kid as it glistened with its soft sheen on my foot, the perfection of chaussage-the delicate leg which attracted so many followers. His eyes followed his nervous fingers. His lips moved as though he longed, yet dared not extend his too-evident fascination into an actual embrace. I pushed my toe again towards his person. The quick blood of the nervous Frenchman was evidently stirred. There was an unmistakable enlargement in the region of his trouble. My warm foot did not let it subside. I was conscious of a certain throbbing against the sole of my foot.

"How long have you been in business? Monsieur Dalmaine, you have evidently a passion for your art. You are not like the ordinary shoemaker."

"No, mademoiselle, I am not so. I am a man different. I am one man by myself. No other man understands me. Sometimes a lady, she comes to me. I make the boots for her. I fit them to her. She like my work-she come again. More work-more boots. But-oh, no! She comprehends not. She knows not my heart!"

Monsieur Dalmaine pressed his hand upon the article in question- or as near to it as he could get. He bowed his head with its light curly hair over my legs as he knelt in the pursuits of his calling. His air was patient-if not pathetic. It seemed to say, "I suffer-I am content to suffer."

"What is the matter with your heart then? Is it so very susceptible? Or is it really a matter for a physician?"

"Ah, mademoiselle, can you ask? Can you doubt?"

My active toes were tickling gently all the time between his legs, where something very like a cucumber had gradually developed itself within the fold of his clothing.

"I am afraid your art is too much for you. You are too much engrossed with fitting the ladies. Why not work for the men?"

"The men? Me! Dalmaine make boots for the beasts? I am not a marechal-ferrant! What you call him? Farrier? I do not make shoes for the horses! Mon Dieu! What I no longer make the chaussures des dames I die! I go dead! I inspire-direct!"

In the agony of his desolation, good Monsieur Dalmaine had seized my foot and ankle in his nervous grasp. He even emphasized his anguish by raising my leg so that a portion of my calf was visible. I laughed so heartily that his confusion became even greater. Raising my other foot, I almost pushed him backwards in my assumed merriment. Thus he had a chance of a private view certainly not calculated to calm his excitement. His features proclaimed his delight. A sudden look of sensual longing spread over them as he saw my brown-stockinged legs. I let him enjoy the exhibition as long as he liked. My foot was all the time is contact with the cucumber. At last he could stand it no longer. He put down his hand. He himself pressed my little foot upon the sensitive spot.

"Ah! Mon dieu! You are the most beautiful young lady I make for! You do not know what you make me suffer. When I see-when I feel these lovely little boots, I am mad-I am mad! When I make them I have pleasure! When I see them on your beautiful feet, I go crack!"

I did not reply in words. I only raised my foot to his face as he knelt. He seized it again. He covered it with kisses. His white apron had slipped on one side. The violent erection of his limb was plainly visible in his loose blue cotton trousers. From the position he occupied, I am sure he could see above my garters. I made no scruple in encouraging his passion.

"Poor Monsieur Dalmaine! Are you so very bad?"

"Oh, you most beautiful! I must fook with you-or burst. Oh, dear! Oh, dear?"

"I should be sorry to make you suffer. Will it do you good, do you think?"

"I must fook you-I must fook! You are the angel of my dreams, I must-ilfaut que je m'assouvisse avant de mourir!"

His whole being quivered with excitement as he knelt, his hands convulsively clasping my ankles as I reclined in his fauteuil.

"Are we quite sure not to be disturbed? Poor Monsieur Dalmaine, you shall not be disappointed. Only be prudent. Pray do not hold my legs so high! How dreadfully indecent! Oh, really!"

"But first I must taste of your sweet parfum-of your essence divine. I must enjoy! Oh, yes! Oh, yes! My beautiful young lady! I have wanted you for a long time! Now! Now!"

In another instant he had separated my legs. Plunging forward, he inserted his head between. He forcibly opened a passage. Before I could oppose any resistance to his attack-even had I been so inclined-his face was upon my naked thighs. He pressed forward. In pretending to protect myself, I assisted his design. With a stifled cry of bestial delight, he covered my part with his lips. He drove in his long hot tongue. I felt him sucking my clitoris with all the fury of a satyr. The taste-the perfume-appeared to drive him to a perfect frenzy. Finding no further resistance, he clasped me round the loins. He continued his salacious gratification, steeping his mouth in the amorous secretion with which I liberally dosed him. I was almost beside myself with the pleasure he was giving me. I spent continually. Presently his right hand released me. I guessed his object. He raised himself from his recumbent position but without quitting his vantage ground. His face was red and inflamed with lust. Raging desire had taken possession of the man. I had led him on. It was not in my power to stay it now. I had not long to wait. He tore open the front of his trousers. I saw his limb fiercely erect-red-capped and ready to do its work. The lewd sight destroyed what little remained of prudence. He threw himself upon my willing body. I raised myself to favor his assault. We neither spoke, but with a great gasp of acute delight I felt the stiff insertion of the Frenchman's long member into my parts.

Monsieur Dalmaine went to work at once. He was so fiercely charged with unappeased desire that he made haste to quench his passion upon me. In the midst of his desperate thrusts, he took care to seize one of my feet in either hand. He thus had me at his mercy. I felt his desperate movements within my belly where his limb was pushed as far as its great length could carry it. It was perfectly strong and rigid. I enjoyed the act as much as he did. All too soon I knew he was about to discharge. He spent in a burst of semen which overflowed my parts. He sank groaning upon my bosom.

"Oh! Monsieur Dalmaine, is this what you call going 'crack'!"