Memoirs of a young Rakehell

CHAPTER EIGHT

The day's events had worn me to a frazzle. My one desire was to rest. When I awoke the next morning, I was lying on my back, a position which usually gives me an erection. Shortly thereafter I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Wanting to play a joke on the bailiff's wife, I lifted my nightshirt, threw the blankets off me, and pretended to be asleep.

But instead of the bailiff's wife, it was her sister-in-law, a woman of thirty-five or so, the age when a woman is at the height of sensuality.

In her younger days she had been a housemaid. Having married an elderly butler who managed to amass a neat pile of savings, she presently lived with her husband and three children (a son and two daughters of ten, eleven and thirteen, respectively) in her brother the bailiff's quarters.

Madame Muller was neither ugly nor beautiful. She was tall, had a strikingly good figure, a dark complexion and her hair, like her eyes, was pitch black. She seemed intelligent, and fully worthy of a bout with my John Thomas.

And you could bet your last penny that she'd seen more than one such animal in her lifetime. So, I reasoned, why not let her see mine as well. I lay there motionless.

Madame Muller set the coffee on the night stand. Then seeing John Thomas standing stiffly at attention, she had a moment's hesitation. But she was a resolute woman, free from all false modesty. She spent several seconds gazing at me with apparent pleasure. Then she coughed discreetly to awaken me, and as I stretched my limbs in such a way as to give my prick an even more insolent air, she approached the bed, looked down for a second, then pulled the covers up and said: "Your coffee, Master Roger."

I opened my eyes, wished her good morning, and complimented her on how well she was looking, etc. Then I suddenly jumped out of the bed, seized her and assured her that she was the most beautiful woman in the whole chateau.

She resisted weakly; slipping my hand beneath her skirts, I discovered a very hairy mound. Then I drove my finger into her cunt. As is the case with all sensual women, hers was dry, but my finger-work soon remedied that. Her clitoris was extremely hard.

"But what's come over you? Stop that! What would my husband say if he knew!"

"Mr. Muller's in the chapel."

"Yes. I know. He does nothing but pray all day long.

But stop that now, you're hurting me. My sister-in-law might come in. She's waiting for me. That's enough now! I'll come back tonight. My husband's leaving today for two or three days in the country. But now we're liable to be interrupted… "

And with that she took her leave. That evening, after having eaten a hearty dinner, I took some wine, ham and dessert back with me to my room. The chateau was soon asleep. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Madame Muller came in. My heart was beating like a triphammer. I embraced her, and gave her a French kiss, which she returned. I undressed quickly and showed her my prick in a most presentable condition.

"Don't get so excited," she warned, "or we'll waken the whole house and set the tongues to wagging."

She bolted the door. I fastened her mound in a tight grip, and found it slightly swollen, and her clitoris extremely hard. I stripped her down to her petticoat, and lifted it high. Seeing her dressed you'd have taken her for thin, but she wasn't in the least. In fact if anything she was on the fleshy side. Her dark pubic hair, I noticed, climbed all the way up to her navel.

She must just have washed, for her Lady Jane was odorless. Then I stripped her completely and was amazed to find how firm her breasts were. They were only moderately large, and her nipples were set in a small field of light brown hair.

Lifting her breasts, I saw that she also had some short, fine black hairs underneath. Her armpits were likewise covered with hair as thick as a man's.

What surprised me most as I examined her more closely, were her well raised buttocks, whose cheeks were set close together. Along her backbone ran a fine line of black hair, from top to bottom. The sight of all this healthy fleece caused John Thomas to harden even more.

I ripped off my nightshirt and straddled the lovely creature, whose rhythmic movements set my pickle slapping back and forth against her belly.

We were in such a position that we could clearly see ourselves in the mirror. I led her toward the bed, where she sat down and said: "I know you want to see all of me." She raised her legs and displayed her hairy cunt right up to her pot hole. I immediately set to tonguing her, and lingered at the task for quite some time. Her lips began to swell. When I went to insert my tool, she laughed and said: "Not like that. Get on the bed."

I asked her to please use the familiar "thou" form with me, and to allow me to do the same with her.

I got onto the bed. She climbed on top of me and I thus had her whole beautiful body before my eyes. She told me to play with her boobies. Then she grasped my prick, paraded it awhile against her love lips, and at the same time asked me to be sure not to come inside her. Then she suddenly shoved my tool in right up to the ballbearings. She was riding me so strenuously that it was almost painful. Round about that time she came, and I could feel all the warmth of her cunt, hear her heaving sighs, and see her eyes roll back in her head.

Realizing that I was also on the point of coming, she got quickly to her feet.

"Hold on a minute, young fellow, my lad," she said in a voice still trembling with emotion, "I know still another that'll satisfy you without making me pregnant."

She turned round; her buttocks were now facing me. She bent down and took my prick in her mouth. I followed her example and began tonguing her love lips, lapping up the female love-juice which tasted like a raw egg. She stepped up the play of her tongue against my glans, and with one hand she tickled my balls and buttocks, while with the other she gripped my penis.

I stiffened with pleasure. She thrust my prick as far in her mouth as possible. Her most secret parts were staring me full in the face. I seized her buttocks, and plunged my tongue into her pothole. I lost control of myself and ejaculated in her mouth.

When I recovered from my momentary rapture, she was lying beside me and had pulled the blankets up over us. She was caressing me, thanking me for the pleasure I had given her, and asked me if I had enjoyed it as much as she.

I had to admit that I had enjoyed that position even more than normal coitus. And then I asked her why she hadn't let me come inside her, since she was married.

"For that very reason," she said. "My husband is impotent, and can tell whenever I cheat on him. Oh, God in Heaven! what I have to put up with from that man!"

I asked her to tell me all about it. She said that her husband could get an erection only if she beat him with a rod until she drew blood.

She likewise had to let him strike her, but only with his hand, and now she was so used to it that she enjoyed it more than it hurt her. He also made her peepee and shit in his presence, so eager was he not to miss a trick. And he got especially worked up when she had her periods.

After she had struck him fifty or even a hundred times, she had to hurry and slip his half-erect member inside, for otherwise it fell limp, except when she licked his buttocks or let him lick her between the toes. Whenever that happened he was able to keep a good hard on, but all these things were pretty disagreeable.

"And on top of all that," she concluded, "the old rascal spends all his time in church."

Her story had aroused the flagging spirits of my John Thomas. Madame Muller had hastened the resurrection by tickling my balls. She had me get between her legs, and turned over on her side. She scissored my buttocks with her legs, so that we were both lying on our sides, face to face. It was a good position, allowing us to lie closely interlaced, and at the same time leaving her titties exposed to my tongue.

I was holding her cunt, which the bout of pleasure had caused to narrow, with my hand. Both of us thrust our fingers into the other's arse-hole. I let my prick slide softly into her cunt, and began to rock as before, sucking her nipples all the while.

I kept my finger moving in her throbbing arse-hole. She came a second time with a cry of delight. She had taken hold of my balls from behind and was squeezing them so tightly that she hurt me, and I had to ask her to let them go.

After having caressed me gently, she turned her head toward the pillow, so that her magnificent buttocks were prominently displayed. I had her rise to her knees and lift her buttocks high. I sent a wad of spit flying into her pothole, and thrust my prick in easily. At each stroke I felt my balls bounce off her buttock cheeks.

She kept telling me how good it felt. I could touch her hairy cunt with one hand and fondle her breasts with the other. Just as I was about to come I started to withdraw but she contracted her buttock muscles around my glans, and I ejaculated squarely into her arse-hole. Afterwards she told me that that was the first time she'd done it that way, and that, although it had hurt in the beginning, in the end she'd enjoyed it.

Feeling my prick harden in her buttocks hole, her sensual forces had awakened and she had had another orgasm at the same time as mine.

"But that's about enough for today," she decided, smiling.

That was about all I could take too. I offered her some dessert, but she insisted that I come and have a short liqueur in her room instead. After which, I came back to my room and fell into bed.