Felix Salten

The Memoirs of Josephine Mutzenbacher

CHAPTER ONE

The saying is that young whores eventually become old religious crones, but that was not my case. I became a whore at an early age and experienced everything a woman can-in bed, on chairs, across tables, over benches, standing against walls, lying on the grass, in dark hall-ways, in private bedchambers, on railroad trains, in lodging houses, in jail; in fact in every conceivable place where it was possible-but I have no regrets. I am along in years now. The enjoyment which Sex afforded me is fast disappearing. I am rich, but faded, and often very lonesome. Yet it never enters my mind to do penance. My escape from squalor and drudgery I owe entirely to my healthful body. Without my youthful experience and the early awakenings of sexual passion, I undoubtedly would have succumbed like many of my playmates to the poorhouse, or would have died as a drudge in some household. I did not succumb to any of these. Instead, I obtained a good education, for which I can thank only my life as a prostitute, which brought me into touch with educated men, broadened my mind and enlightened me. I escaped the life which is led by ignorant, lowborn peasants-for which they are not to blame, but of which they are so often accused. It is not their fault; they know no better. But I have seen the world in a different light, for all of which I have to thank my Me as a prostitute, so often condemned by the Public. I am writing my experiences only to shorten my time of loneliness and to give to the public the truth about the experiences which led up to the life I finally adopted. I deem this far better than to run with long confessions to the priest-confessions which might please him personally but which would only make me absolutely weary. I also find that a biography such as I am writing never before has been printed. The books which I have read tell none of the absolute facts as they really happen. I feel that I am doing a good act in exposing the doings of our so-called refined, rich men, who lure us poor girls into all kinds of the most shameful and sinful acts, and to describe the impressions a girl who has had the actual experience which I have had, and to narrate the real facts as they so often do happen. And now to begin…

CHAPTER TWO

My father was a very poor man who worked as a saddler in Josef City. We lived in a tenement house away out in Ottakring-at that time a new house- which was filled from top to bottom with the poorer class of tenants. All of the tenants had many children, who were forced to play in the back yards, which were much too small for so many. I had two older brothers. My father and my mother and we three children lived in two rooms- a living-room and kitchen. We also had a roomer. The other tenants, probably fifty in all, came and went, sometimes in a friendly way, more often in anger. Most of them disappeared and we never heard from them again.

I distinctly remember two of our roomers. One was a locksmith-apprentice. He had dark eyes and was a sad-looking lad. His black eyes and lark face always were covered with grime and soot. We children were very much afraid of him. He was a very silent man, never saying a word. I remember one afternoon, when I was alone in the house, he came home. I was then only five years old. My mother and my two brothers had gone to Furstenfeld and my father had not yet returned from work. The locksmith took me up from the floor, where I was playing, and held me on his lap. I wanted to cry, but he quietly told me: “Be quiet, I won't hurt you.” He then laid me back, lifted up my little skirt and “examined” me. I was badly frightened as he viewed me naked upon his lap, but I remained perfectly quiet. Then he heard my mother coming, putting me down on the floor, he retreated hastily into the kitchen. A few days later, he again came home early. Mother was about to go out, so she asked him to look after me until she returned. This was a commission which he accepted gladly. As soon as Mother was gone, the knave again held me on his knees and began examining my naked underparts. He did not utter a word; he just stared at the tender organ constantly. I did not dare say anything. He repeated this performance on many occasions as long as he roomed with us. As a child, of course, I had no idea of its import, and did not give the matter a second thought. Today I know different, and often I call this fellow my first lover.

My two brothers, Franz and Lorenz, differed greatly in temperament. My oldest brother, Lorenz, four years older than me, was quiet, industrious and religious. Franz, the younger one, who was a year and a half older than me, was just the opposite-happy, carefree, and much more affectionate to me than was my other brother. I had reached the age of seven when, one day, Franz and I went to visit some neighbor's children. These children were always alone. Their mother was dead and their father was away at work. Anna, the younger, then a girl of nine years, was pale, thin and light blonde, with a split lip. Her brother, Ferdl, was thirteen years old, robust and also blond, but red-cheeked and broad-shouldered. We were innocently playing, when Anna remarked: “Now, let's play 'father and mother.'“

Her brother laughed and said: “She always wants to play 'father and mother.'“ But Anna insisted. Going to my brother, she said: “You be the man and I will be your wife.” Ferdl came and took hold of my arm and declared: “Well, then, I'll be your man and you be my wife.” Anna immediately got two pillow slips and made two rag dolls, handed me one, saying: “Here is your child!” I began to fondle and caress the doll, but Anna and Ferdl began to laugh at me, saying: “That is not the way; first you must make the baby, then you must be pregnant and then you must give birth to the baby. Only then you can fondle it.” I naturally had often heard people say that a woman was in the “family way” and soon would have a baby. The story about the stork I had long doubted, and, when I saw a woman with a big stomach, I imagined what that meant. But, of course, I was ignorant of the actual facts, as was also my brother Franz. Consequently, Franz and I stood bewildered and helpless and at a loss whether to proceed with this new game or not. But Anna stepped up to Franz and, reaching for the opening in his trousers, said: “Come on, take your 'pipe' out!” At that she unbuttoned his trousers and removed his little stem, while Ferdl and I looked on, Ferdl with amusement and I with astonishment, wonder and anger (yet with a strange, exultant feeling which I never had experienced before). Franz stood like a statue, not seeming to realize what was happening. At Anna's touch, his little device stood up stiff. “Now, come,” I heard Anna whisper. Then she threw herself on the floor on her back, and, lifting her skirts, spread her legs far apart. At this moment Ferdl grabbed me and said: “Lie down.” Immediately I felt his hand between my legs. I willingly lay down and lifted my skirts as Anna had done. Ferdl rubbed his rugged little plow against my untilled furrows.

I had to laugh, for his ministrations tickled not a little as he rubbed against my belly and thighs and all over me. He was breathing hard and he laid heavily upon my breast. The whole proceeding seemed foolish and laughable. Yet a strange feeling which came over me-one which I cannot describe, and which induced me to lie still. Now I became quite serious. Suddenly Ferdl jumped up. I also got up. He showed me his instrument, which I took in my hand. A small drop of liquid was visible on the end. Ferdl drew back the tiny spear's soft flesh covering and a little, red head appeared. I pushed the covering back and forth several times and thought it great sport to see the head, like the head of some small animal, appear and disappear. Anna and my brother still lay on the floor, and I saw that Franz was excitedly pushing back and forth. His cheeks were red and he was breathing hard, the same as Ferdl had done before. Anna was completely changed. Her pale face was colored, her eyes were closed and I feared that she was ill. But suddenly both became quiet, laid on each other a few seconds and then got up. We sat together for a while, Ferdl with his hand under my skirts, holding my “susie,” Franz doing the same to Anna. I had Ferdl's “pipe" in my hand, while Anna held my brother's, and it was all very soothing to me. It did not tickle as before, but created a pleasant feeling which seemed to go through my entire body. This proceeding was interrupted by Anna, who gave me one of the rag dolls, keeping the other. We placed them under our skirts, next to our bellies. “Now,” Anna said, “We are in the family way.” We walked up and down the room with our bellies sticking out, laughing. We then “gave birth” to our babies, fondled them and handed them to our “husbands” so that they could admire and wonder at them. In this way we played for some time.

Presently Anna conceived the idea that we must nurse our babies. She unbuttoned her waist and pulled down her undershirt so as to let the baby reach her breast. As she did this, I noticed that she already had a good-sized pair of globes, with large nipples-with which her brother promptly started to play. Franz, seeing this, also began to play with them, remarking as he did so that it was too bad that I had not “titties” yet. Then we were enlightened by Ferdl as to what the proceedings had been all about. We found out that what we had just done was called “intercourse,” and that our parents did the same thing to each other in bed, and that women became mothers of babies as a result of the operation. Ferdl seemed far advanced in these matters, informing us girls that our openings were still grown shut, which was why he and Franz could only rub their “tails” around on the outside and not put them in. He also informed us that when we grew bigger we should have a lot of hair grow there. I did not want to believe it, but Anna declared that Ferdl knew all about it and was very positive, as he had experimented with Mrs. Rhinelander in the attic, and, when he did so, his “tail” went clear up into her “hole.” Mrs. Rhinelander was the wife of a street-car conductor, who lived on the top floor of our building. She was a short, dark-skinned woman, small and pretty and always friendly. Ferdl told us a story about her, which I will relate in the next chapter.

CHAPTER THREE

“Mrs. Rhinelander,” said Ferdl, “had just finished her washing and was carrying a basket filled with clothes to the attic. As I passed her she said: “'Come, Ferdl, you are a strong boy: you can help me carry this heavy basket to the attic.'

“So I helped her with the basket. When we got to the attic she said: “"Now, what do you want for helping me up with the basket?”

“I told her 'nothing,' then she remarked: “'Come, I will show you something.' “She put my hand on her titties, and said:

“'Doesn't that feed good…” “I immediately guessed what she wanted for I had often poked Anna.” We all listened to Ferdl's story with great interest. Anna nodded, confirming his assertion that he often poked her. Then Ferdl went on: “I did not care to go too far, so I just kept on playing with her titties, but she unbuttoned her waist so that I could play with them naked. Then she took out my 'peter' and laughingly remarked: “If you will promise not to tell a living soul, I will let you do something else!”

“I said nothing but sat down on her lap. She again warned me not to say anything. I promised that I surely would not tell. “She then laid down the clothes-basket, pulled me on top of her and put my 'peter' up into her fat slit! She forced it away up into her. She asked whether it felt good, and I told her that it sure did! Then she started to push up and down like crazy while I kept on playing with her titties. When she finished, she jumped up, buttoned her waist and said to me angrily: “'Now get out of here, you imp, and if you tell anybody what happened, I'll tear your head off I'“ Ferdl ceased speaking, and Anna inquired: “Don't you think that you could get it way up into me now?” Ferdl looked at her. She was still holding the rag doll to her naked breast. He reached over and began playing with her. She remarked: “Try it just a little. Then well play 'papa and mama' again.” Franz immediately went over to her, and I, after all this teaching and after the story which I had just heard, was willing to start right in again. But Anna said: “No! Now Ferdl will be my husband and Franz will be yours.” Immediately she went to her brother and unbuttoned his trousers, whereupon he pulled out his “peter” and pushed the foreskin back and forth while he plied my “slit” with his finger. Since I had now learned how it was done, I lay down at once and directed his “peter” straight into my “slit.” The feeling was so pleasant as he entered me that I began to work my body with all my strength. This lasted until Franz had his “come.” Then he fell on me exhausted and did not stir. We remained quiet a few minutes. Then we heard Anna and Ferdl quarreling. He was still lying on top of her. She had her legs over his back, so that her feet touched each other. Ferdl was saying: “It will go in all right.” Anna said: “Yet, but it hurts. Stop, it hurts.” But Ferdl told her to keep quiet, that it would only hurt until he got it in.

Franz and I crouched down to look, in order to be sure that he really had it in. We were greatly astonished to see Anna's “slit” wide open. Ferdl had the head and part of the rest of his “peter” into her and was working back and forth with his body. Then, suddenly, the “tool" slipped out altogether. I reached down and steered it back inside, for I did not wish to miss the fun. I noticed Anna's opening had been rubbed to a bright red. Ferdl tried hard to get it in again, but Anna began to scream, and, becoming alarmed, we finally quit trying. Next I tried to take Ferdl once more. He was all excited, but I was getting sore myself and it was getting late, so we stopped the game and went home. Franz and I did not talk on the way home. We lived on the top floor of the tenement, next door to Mrs. Rhinelander. As we came in, we saw her talking to a neighbor. We stopped and stared at her, but as she turned around, we both laughed loudly and ran into our own door. From that day on I looked at children and grown people in an entirely different light. Although I was only seven years old, I had tasted of the forbidden fruit and my womanhood was developing wonderfully, which must have been very noticeable in my eyes and general appearance. My face, my mouth, my walk, must have been a challenge to men to grab me and throw me over. Only in this way can I account for men, upon first acquaintance with me, even strangers, wanting to take advantage of me, forgetting all caution. Even to the present day this same fate follows me. Although I am old and far from pretty, my whole body dried up, no signs left of my past life, yet even today I meet men who, upon sight of me, became excited and cannot keep their eyes off my body. But to return to my story. A few days after the events described above, Franz began to question Lorenz, asking him if he knew where babies come from and how they were made. Lorenz remarked: “Perhaps you know.” Franz and I laughed. I took Franz's “tail” out of his pants and stroked it gently. Lorenz looked on with a solemn face, and Franz began to tickle my “pussy.” Then Franz and I laid down on the bed and went through our little performance, which he had so thoroughly learned from Anna and her brother. Lorenz did not say a word until we had finished. But, as I went up to him, reaching for his “tool” and inviting him to take a turn with me, he shoved me from him, to my astonishment, saving; “I have known how to poke for a long time. You don't think I would wait for you, do you? But it is a great sin to do this, and he who sins like this will surely go to hell.” Franz and I were quite alarmed and said that this was not so. “Do you think father and mother will go to hell?” I asked. Lorenz could not answer this, so we lost our fright and began to make fun of Lorenz. He threatened to tell our teacher, the priest's understudy, unless we promised to not do “it” any more. But after having been bitten by the bug, there is no cure and one cannot be frightened.

We often visited Anna and Ferdl, always playing the same game. I always was poked by Ferdl first; then Anna was “had” by Franz; then Anna took on her brother, and finally I went through the act with my brother. There was hardly a day passed that we did not enjoy our little tail. But our main subject of conversation and our main wish was to be poked by a grown-up person: Anna and I wished for a man, while Franz's only wish was to poke Mrs. Rhinelander. Once when we visited Anna and Ferdl, we saw that they had company-a thirteen-year-old girl cousin named Mizzi and her brother, Polde, who was eleven. Mizzi was a pretty girl, fully developed; her breasts were hard and firm and stood out under her thin blouse like two little apples. The conversation naturally drifted to poking. Polde bragged that his sister had lots of hair on her “pussy.” He raised her skirts and we looked with wonder at the little triangular patch which covered her where we were still bare. Polde then uncovered her breasts and we looked in astonishment and began to fondle them. Mizzi now became very much excited. She closed her eyes and reached for Franz and her brother. They both placed their “peters” in her hands, while Ferdl began playing with her “pussy.” Suddenly she threw herself on the bed, crying: “Polde! Polde! Come! I can't stand it any longer!”

Her brother promptly sprang on top of her. Meanwhile Ferdl placed his pecker in the girl's hand, while Anna took hold of Franz. I watched with great astonishment as Polde kissed his sister, for I was not yet aware that kissing was part of this fascinating game. I noticed also that Polde was continually playing with her “titties" while he lay on top of her, and I saw how hard and prominent the nipples came out. I reached between her legs to convince myself that he really had it all the way in her, and found that he had. This was real poking! What a great experience for a seven-year-old whore!

I became greatly excited when I felt with my own hands that his peter, which was considerably larger than that of either Franz or Ferdl, sank into her belly to the end-disappeared entirely-came out-went in again. But most of all I wondered at Mizzie's action as she squirmed madly beneath him, crying, “Faster! Faster! Still faster!

…” until she finally cried, “Oh, that was so good!” as Polde withdrew his “tail” and got off of her. Franz and Ferdl now pressed close to her. She remained lying with her legs spread wide apart, smiling as she exhibited her bare thighs and titties. Ferdl and Franz began quarreling to see who should be next to poke her.

Mizzie settled the dispute by reaching for Franz, saying: “First the little one.” Franz sprang on top of her and began rubbing his “tool” against her as we children always did, but she stopped him, taking his little tail in her hand and with one push sending him away up into her! Franz was so astonished that he remained perfectly quiet, acting as though he could not believe what had happened. Mizzie then began to work in earnest, twisting from side to side and moving up and down. When she started to wiggle her bottom, Franz's little tool fell out. He was not able to find his way back without help, which I gave him. And, by holding my hand in readiness, I was able to shove him back every time that he threatened to slip out again. A new difficulty now arose. Mizzie insisted that Franz play with her “titties;” but every time that he began playing with them, he forgot about poking. Then, when Mizzie reminded him of that, he forgot the other. He absolutely could not master both at the same time. “Too bad,” she said, “he is so ignorant” Ferdl, anxiously waiting his turn, finally began playing with her titties, squeezing them and kissing the nipples until they finally got hard, thus relieving Franz of half the work. Franz in the meantime had got down to a regular action, which Mizzie seemed to enjoy very much, becoming greatly excited, repeatedly crying out: “Oh! But that little 'peter' is so good!” Suddenly she began to thrash violently to and fro, gnashing her teeth and crushing Franz against her breast. Then she sank back with a deep sigh, her eyes closed. Finally she became quiet, and, in a short time, Franz got up. No sooner had he done so than Ferdl, with his “peter” at the ready, leaped between her legs. Mizzi seemed anxious to receive him. I helped him find the right spot and also fingered his little “nuts.” In this way I could see and feel each time that he went away up inside her. Franz remarked that it was the same as it had been when with Mrs. Rhinelander. He showed himself to be very efficient at this business, and, as he worked up and down, the bed began to creak and Mizzie's breath came fast and short. Suddenly she went through another spasm, writhing and moaning terribly, and then sank down as if in a faint. Anna and I decided now that it was our turn for some fun. Anna immediately threw herself on the bed, calling Polde, in whom she seemed greatly interested. But Polde had again busied himself with his sister's titties, and, pressing them together with his hands, he took both nipples in his mouth and began to suck them. Mizzie, leaning back against the cupboard, enjoying the performance. She began playing with his “tool” while Anna lay helplessly in bed, all prepared for what did not happen. After a few moments, Polde raised Mizzie's dress and stuck his sword into her again, thus poking her standing up. He poked her so violently that the cupboard rattled. We had not known that it could be done standing up, so we watched much astonished at this new feat.

When Polde finished, it again came Franz's turn. He did a great deal better this trip, as he was learning the game rapidly. She then went through the same performance with Ferdl, this making number six for her, all of which she enjoyed greatly, not showing the least bit of fatigue. Anna now went again to Polde and assured him that he could get it away into her and would not have to rub it around as he did before on the outside. He put his hand under her dress and began sticking his finger into her “crack,” but said that he was sure that it would not go all the way in yet. However, Anna would not let him go. She held his “peter” and began playing with it. But her efforts were to no avail: The weary member hung down soft and limber. In the meantime, I had been playing with Ferdl, but could not arouse any passion in him. He simply allowed me to play with it. In the meantime he felt my “titties,” which were conspicuous by their absence, saying: “It's too bad that you haven't any titties like Mizzie.” I finally was obliged to give the enterprise up. I could not get any satisfaction from him. I turned to Franz and saw him again on Mizzie. He was not poking her, but was playing with her titties. Reaching into his pants, I found that his engine suddenly had plenty of steam in it again. He asked me to help him put it into Mizzie once more! I refused, so he found his way alone. Mizzie now went for number seven, but showed her exhaustion, for it took all of half an hour to finish this round. Thus Anna and I were denied the pleasure of a little poking and we both felt very badly. I went home in a sad state, cursing Mizzie and the hair on her “pussy” and her big “titties.” In a few days, however, everything was forgotten, as Mizzie and her brother lived a great distance away and seldom came to visit their cousins. In the meantime, Anna and I were satisfied with our old partners. We discontinued the old game of 'papa and mama' and just poked when we felt like it, just as Mizzie and Polde had done, sitting, lying, standing-in all conceivable positions. This life lasted all summer. Then our friends moved away, and I did not see blond Anna again for a long time. Before this occurred, however, another event took place, which I will relate in my next chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR

Anna and her brother one day had received another visit from her cousins Mizzie and Polde. This time they brought with them a big boy. He was fifteen years of age and his name was Robert. He was learning a trade and was quite well-grown for his age. He immediately declared himself chief of our games, and, when he showed us his “pecker,” we saw that he already had a lot of hair around it. We three girls played with it and enjoyed a strange thrill as we felt the pulse beating in it. We were extremely happy and excited as we manipulated it, for it was by far the largest one that we had ever seen. Mizzie asked him to poke her first, but he answered: “No, first I am going to diddle Pepi.” I remember how proud I had felt at this. I rushed up to the bed, lay down on my back, lifted up my dresses, unbuttoned my panties and spread my legs apart.

Robert came to bed, felt my “kitten,” looked at it and said: “My dear, I can only poke you from the outside!” Mizzie cried: “Why, of course; she hasn't even got hair on it! Come and poke me! I can stand your putting it all the way in, you know.” She immediately lay down, trying to push me out of the bed, but he said: “No, I am going to poke Pepi!” I lay perfectly quiet, as you can imagine. I looked at Robert. His face was red and he put his finger into my slit and rubbed it until I was excited and passionate as never before.

He thought it over for a minute, then declared: “I'll show you something!” He called Anna, who also had to go into bed, lying next to the wall. I was in the middle and Mizzie on the outside. Robert then got in, but did not get on top of me. He told me to turn over. I was lying on my stomach. He raised my clothing so that my little bottom was bare. He then had Anna crawl up to the head of the bed, so that her thighs were next to my shoulder. He then uncovered her grotto. Now he ordered Mizzie to bare her titties. She unbuttoned her waist and pulled down her chemise, and I noticed that her nipples stood out hard and firm. Robert then raised me up and put a pillow under my stomach so that my bottom was slightly raised, then he told me to squeeze my legs together, and he pushed his shaft from behind toward until I felt it rubbing gently against my “kitten” from between my buttocks. He then started working up and down. A most pleasant sensation seemed to go through my entire body. Suddenly I began to moan like Mizzie had done, and began working my bottom up and down in rhythm with his movements. My face buried in the pillow under my head, I saw nothing. But I felt the most pleasant sensation between my legs! Finally I heard Anna and Mizzie breathing heavily and moaning. I looked up from my pillow and saw Robert playing with Anna's slit with his left hand, which must have made her feel very good indeed, for she was working forward and back with all her might. With his right hand he was working Mizzie's nipples, which were getting harder and bigger all the time. Finally Mizzie started to cry out: “Oh!… I want somebody to poke me… I must be poked. .. Franz!… Ferdl!… Please… Oh! Franz… Come… !” She caught hold of his tool and pulled him to her. He lay down beside Robert, attacking Mizzie with all his might, while Robert helped him by playing with her nipples. But Mizzi still was unsatisfied. She reached out again, this time grabbing her brother, Polde, by the shaft. She was so excited that she took the tiny tool between her lips and started to suck on it. By this time Ferdl could not stand it any longer. He crawled up to his sister, Anna, and invaded her mouth. This seemed to excite her still more, and she started licking and sucking the stiff little offering- So there, the seven of us, were thus busily engaged. Robert still was slowly pushing in and pulling out, while I experienced such a wonderful, pleasant sensation. Then, all of a sudden, Robert began to work faster and faster, and, with a shock, I felt something wet and hot pouring out of him and onto my stomach. I was frightened and screamed, but Robert kept right on moving. The hot stuff seemed to be spreading over me. I said: “Something has happened. Stop it.”

But he kept right on, saying: “Keep quiet, I am discharging.”

I said: “You are peeing on me.” But he said: “No, I am not. I am 'going off.' That has to happen.” When he was through and got up, the rest of the group separated, all wondering about this curious phenomenon of Robert's 'discharge.' Robert told us that Franz, Ferdl and Polde still were too young; that they would not be able to 'go off' until they had a Jot of hair on their bellies and around their tools. Mizzie inquired: “Why is that?” But the boys and I wanted to see Robert discharge again. He was willing and said: “But you must do it with your hand.” We did not know how, so he showed us. He sat on a chair and began to tug at his tool. We soon learned how it was done. Then we took turns doing it, the same as he had done. Mizzie finally placed it in her watering mouth and began to suck on it. She was so hot and excited that she took it all in.

Finally it was my turn. I had no time to think, but puckered up my lips and took the thing into my mouth as she had done. I felt a sensation in my grotto and realized again the sensation of being poked. After me, Anna had her turn, but she had hardly begun, when Robert began to 'squirt.' She jumped back and spit out what she had received in her mouth. Robert at once started to tug at himself until he rid himself of the whole 'discharge.' At every jerk, large drops of white matter were thrown out so far that I got one big drop in my face. We were all greatly astonished and very much excited over this phenomenon. Anna immediately fell on Robert and graciously begged him: “Now, you will please poke me now, won't you?” But Robert's tail hung limp and exhausted. “I can't do it, I can't do it. He won t stand again.” Mizzie was beside herself. She sat down between his legs, took the slack appendage in her mouth and started to suck, saying: “When he stands you must poke me.” In the meantime, Franz, Ferdl and Polde wanted to try this new and delightful discovery of sucking, so Anna and I went at it. It was easier with the boys, as their weapons were smaller and thinner than Robert's. I took Ferdl and Anna took Franz. Ferdl was wild. He pushed into my throat so that I had his entire device in my mouth. After pushing it in and out about a do/en times, he 'went off.' I felt a drop when he discharged, but I felt a sensation between my legs as though I had it away up inside me and I must have 'gone off' at the same time. It was beyond description. I held his stalk in my mouth until it was soft and limp. Then, since Anna and Ferdl still were at it, I took Polde, who was waiting. He had already done this before with his sister and was quite expert. Almost immediately I experienced a tickling sensation and a buss which I cannot describe. I began playing around the head of the stalk with my tongue, which caused Polde to 'come' at once. He held me tightly around my neck, pushing his rigid rove away into my mouth. I had the keenest sensation as I felt the pulsation in the splendid shaft. I held him in my mouth until he became soft.

In the meantime, Mizzie, with all her teasing and licking, had succeeded in bringing Robert back to life. Franz and Anna could not make room quickly enough. Mizzie acted like a crazy woman. She bounced on the bed and dragged Robert after her. Taking one of his fingers after another, as she had previously done with his tool, she put them into her mouth, sucking and biting them. She grabbed his staff and pushed it into her opening, then worked so hard that the bed creaked. At last, she was getting a poke from her Robert, as she had been trying to do all afternoon. Suddenly Robert bent down, took one of her nipples into his mouth and began working it and sucking it the same as she had done with his shaft. Mizzie cried out: “Oh… poke me… Poke me! Oh, such a spear… such a grand, glorious spear

… push harder… faster… still faster… poke me tonight… tomorrow afternoon… every day… Oh… how grand and beautiful…!” Robert gave a short grunt and squirted; Mizzie lay as one dead. There was no doubt that Robert was a great man. Anna was happy that at last she had been poked like a grown-up but we did not pay any attention to her in the excitement. Robert told us that he had been poking for two years. His step-mother had taught him how. His father was a cripple and slept with his wife, Robert's step-mother, while Robert slept in the kitchen. One evening, while he was sitting on a bench in the kitchen, his step-mother came in. As it slowly grew dark, she sat closer beside him and began to fondle him-first his hands, then his head, and then his thighs and legs, suddenly slipping her hand into his trousers. But perhaps I had better tell the story as he told it to us children. “My step-mother ran her hand into my trousers and my shaft stiffened. She then let go of me and, unbuttoning her dress, put my hand on her naked nipples and showed me how to play with and manipulate them. She gave them to me, first one and then the other, finally both together, and we had a great time. “She had long, thin breasts which hung down nearly to her waist, and big brown nipples which responded to manipulation quickly. She soon began breathing so loudly that father heard her and called out: “"What is the matter in there?”

“'Nothing,' she answered, 'I am just sitting here with Robert,' at the same time fondling my stalk. “After doing this for a time, she left me and returned to the other room. During the night, however, when father was asleep, she came out to the kitchen in her night-dress, got into bed with me, crawled on top of me and put my spear into her grotto. Then she leaned over and put her nipples into my mouth, first one, then the other. It felt very good, as you can imagine. She showed me how to work up and down, and I poked her until she 'went off,' sinking on me totally exhausted. “The next evening we sat again in the kitchen playing with each other, and, that night, when father had gone to sleep, she again came in and we poked once more. “One night she did not come. I could not sleep and could not imagine why she did not come to me. Sitting up in bed, by the light of the moon, which streamed in through the window in the adjoining room, I could see their bed. I saw mother on top of father, who could not move. She was entirely nude, and was vigorously working up and down. Stooping over and putting her nipples in his mouth, 'she went through the same performance as she had done with me.

“Waiting until she was through with my father, I called out, making believe that I was ill. She came to my bed and leaned over me, asking what was the matter. I suppose that she understood that I had seen what had just been going on. She immediately gave me her titties to play with, got into bed beside me, took off her nightdress so that she was entirely naked and said to me: Tonight you must get on top of me.' “She showed me how to do it in this manner and then we both went at it with a great vigor. In fact, we made such a racket that my father called out: “What does the boy want?” “She replied, keeping right on thrusting: 'He wants me… he's feeling better now.' “Father again fell asleep and we continued our enterprise. We had to stop several times, for we rolled and shook so much that the bed was making a terrible noise and we were afraid of waking my father again. “When we had finished, mother wanted some more. As I could not get stiff, she took my tool into her mouth, starting to suck on it. I wanted to cry out, the feeling was so intense. Of course, my tool immediately stiffened under this treatment. And, as soon as it got hard, she made me get up, go over and sit on the bench, and she sat astride of me, and we had one more poke in this manner. Then she put on her night-dress and returned to her room. “The next day I spent in bed, being too tired to get up. Father thought that I really was ill, but it was simply the result of the violent night I had spent.” Robert had by now been poking his stepmother regularly for the past two years. We looked on him with great admiration and respect, as he had been well-instructed in the arts of love. When he finished his story, we were all set to go at it again, the idea of lying on top of him interesting us greatly. Robert, however, said that there were still other ways of doing it: he had also poked his step-mother from behind. Anna and Mizzie immediately wanted to do it that way. But they misunderstood what he meant by back-door poking. Both wanted to try it while lying on top of him. I also wanted to try it, but since Robert could not raise himself to the tack again, I began laying with Ferdl. Shortly after this delightful afternoon, Anna and Ferdl and their father moved away, and I saw them no more for a long time.

CHAPTER FIVE

Quite frequently at home I heard my father and mother shaking the bed and breathing hard, but I could not discern anything in the dark. I had an idea that I knew what it all was about, however, so, when this occurred, I would lie in bed listening with rapt attention, at the same time fingering myself. I got so that I could satisfy myself very well by this method. I often heard mother and father whispering to each other in a tone too low for me to distinguish words. One Saturday night father came home drunker than usual. Mother got up and helped him undress. When I awoke at the noise, I saw a light in the room. Father pushed mother over on the bed and reaching up under her clothing, she at the time fighting him off.

He whispered: “Here now… spread your legs apart!”

Mother refused, saying: “Go away! You are drunk!” “What of it?… Come on…!” He was a powerful man. Wild-eyed, he grabbed her, tore her night-dress, caught her by the breasts and pushed her back on the bed. Then he got on top of her, brandishing his big, stiff shaft out, all ready for business. “Put out the light, the children are looking,” mother said. But father just said: “Put it in, damn it!” Mother again said: “Put out the lights, you fool! We don't want the children watching this.” Father just growled: “They are asleep.” And he went right on with his business. Soon I heard mother say: “Oh, but that is so good! How big you are tonight!”

They presently finished and all was quiet once more, father falling asleep immediately and mother soon afterward. When they had started to snore, I slipped out of my bed and over to Franz, who slept on a nearby lounge. He had not seen anything but he heard it all. I got into his bed with him and we hugged each other fiercely. He wanted to get on top of me, but I turned over and made him invade me from behind as Robert had done. We were very quiet; nobody heard us, but we were rather frightened at first. We were quite naked and the feeling of our little bodies rubbing so close together without the interference of clothing was delightful. Finally completed off our little poke, and, finding that we were comparatively safe, we did it often at night, as we could feel reasonably safe when all the rest were asleep. Soon after this, we got a new roomer in our home. This roomer was a middle-aged man of fifty or so. I do not know what his business was, but he was at home a great deal and sat in the kitchen for hours talking to mother. I often was left alone with him. Since he had a full, bushy beard I often wondered how much hair he had between his legs. One Sunday, when he was washing himself, I noticed his hairy chest. This only enhanced my curiosity as to his other parts. He was very friendly to me. Often he stroked my hair, chuckled me under the chin and caressed and fondled me frequently. I always went to him smiling when he spoke. Happening to be at home alone with him one day, I thought: “Now is my chance.”

I went up to him and began to stroke his beard. He must have perceived something in my looks which robbed him of his senses for a moment. He began shivering, and put his hand between my legs as if looking for an entrance. I was standing in front of him. I did not discourage any movement on his part, but smiled encouragingly. He pressed harder, but as yet only on the outside of my fluffy dress. I stepped up closer, between his knees, and smiled. His face reddened and he pulled me to him and kissed me. He then lifted up my dress, pulled down my panties and kissed me passionately on the mouth. He next looked at and began to finger my grotto. This sensation seemed different from anything I had ever before experienced, due no doubt, to the fact that hitherto I had played only with boys while this was a grown man. I became so excited that I could hardly control myself. I did not know whether he was using one finger or five. But I did not care. I felt as if I was being poked. Excitedly I began to work back and forth, at the same time playing with the hair on his breast. He took my other hand and placed it on his shaft which he had taken out. It was so large I could hardly get my hand around it.

I started working it back and forth while he rubbed my mound and kissed me. We kept this up until suddenly he stiffened out and twisted and squirmed and began to ejaculate in great drops that squirted far into the room. At the same time, part of the hot and sticky deluge flowed across my hand. I also 'came,' for he had quickened the movement on my “kitten' with his finger as he 'came.' When he had finished, he sat there frightened, telling me not to breathe a word of what had happened between us, to anyone. As I shook my head, he kissed me again, got up and went out. For several days I hardly saw him. He was apparently ashamed. This also affected me, and when I would see him approaching, I would run away. About a week later, while playing in the backyard with my brothers, I saw him go into the house. Since my mother had gone out previously, I knew that he would be all alone up in his room. Without hesitating I sneaked up after him, my heart beating wildly and rapidly, and I quivering in excitement.

When I entered the kitchen, he reached eagerly for me, his hands shaking. I threw myself into his arms and he at once put his hand between my legs and began to finger my slit. We sat down beside each other and he put his tool into my hand. I now had a good chance to examine it, and I must say, even after all these years, having had thousands of shafts not only pushed into my grotto but into every opening in my body, that this was an exceptionally fine specimen of a healthy, strong spear, twice as long as Robert's, somewhat bent, with a large red head; and a great mass of dark hair surrounding it. I certainly could have had a great time with it had I been but a few years older and more developed. I eagerly manipulated this massive member with one hand, as I had learned to do from Robert. When I tired, and stopped working, he whispered: “Go on, my angel; my darling girl; my little sweet-heart! For goodness sake, go on… don't stop!” Much pleased at these pet names, I worked hard and tried to do what he wanted. Soon he 'squirted' so high that the deluge almost struck me in the face. A few days later, during a repeat performance, he said: “Darling, angel, sweetheart.” I was doing my best to please him, throwing my hips around as he was working at my grotto. “Oh, goodness,” he continued, “if I could only poke you right… just once, just one little poke!” In a moment I pulled away, laid on the floor on my back, spread my legs apart and said:

“Come on, try it.” He came over, stooped down, coughed and said: “No, damn it. You're too small.” “That's nothing,” I answered. “Try it anyhow.” Half wild, he got on top of me. He put his hand under my bottom, lifted me up and rubbed his tool against my toolbox. I held on to the monstrous machine, making sure that he rubbed it all over. Between shoves, he asked: “Have you been poked before?” Something warned me to deny it. I did so, but he insisted, saying: “Now, angel, tell me, you have been poked, haven't you? I know it. Who was it? Often? Was it good?” I was breathing hard. I could feel his engine jerking, but I still denied it, saying: “No, certainly not. Of course not. This is the first time.” His breath came faster and the pleasure for me became greater. “Is it good?” he asked. “Oh, so good,” I said. Just then he 'went off,' wetting my belly. “Lay still,” he said, and he wiped me clean.

Now he asked: “Are you telling the truth? Come on and tell me.”

I told him that I had seen it done and pointed to the other room. “Yes, yes. Your father and mother.” He wanted me to tell him all, and, as I told him what I had seen and heard, he played with my slit until I again went off. I did not tell Franz that I had been poked by a grown-up man, although he was always talking of Mrs. Rhinelander, dreaming about her…

CHAPTER SIX

After the delightful experience with Mr. Eckhard- for that was the bearded boarder's name-I began to look around for other grown-up men, imagining myself sitting on their knees and playing with their shafts. I looked at many different men. They would stop and stare at me, astonished. One man turned around once and winked at me, but I did not follow him, although I was much excited. After this incident, I often walked out on the streets, hoping to meet a second Mr. Eckhard. At one time, having gone farther away from home than usual, I got lost. Soon it began to grow late and got dark. Presently I met a soldier. I smiled at him, and he looked at me in astonishment, but kept right on walking. Since no one was in sight, I stopped and turned and saw that the soldier had also stopped and was looking back at me. I again smiled and he beckoned to me. My heart was throbbing and my grotto burning, I was so excited. Nevertheless, I stood still, much frightened and yet wildly curious. He hurried back and with a very sober face asked me: “Are you alone?” I nodded. “Then come,” he said, and he led the way round to the bushes. Still frightened but highly elated, I followed him. We had scarcely reached the bushes when he threw me down on my back and at once got on top of me. I felt his big stiff shaft as he pushed it against my slit. I put my hand down and tried to guide it into me. I hurt at every movement, but I said nothing. At last, almost wild, he made a strong effort. I felt the head going into me. It pained me so that I wanted to scream, but I bit my lips to keep quite. I did not want him to stop. Suddenly he 'went off.' Jumping up like a rabbit, he then ran away, not even looking back at me. My insides burned something terrible and I could hardly walk.

But I had been poked. Really and truly poked. All the way in. I had at last lost my maidenhead. As I came out of the bushes and started walking away, I saw the soldier urinating against a tree. It was not quite dark and I began to get scared. I still had no idea of where I was, but I began to walk wildly in random directions, hoping to discover some familiar landmark. I had hardly gone a hundred yards when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Frightened, I turned around and saw a ragged boy somewhat older than myself.

“What did you do with that soldier?” he inquired. “Nothing!” I replied. “So, nothing! I saw it all!” “You saw nothing!” I shouted, almost crying. At this he put his hand between my legs, feeling my still-damp fleece. “You wench,” he said, “I saw the whole business. You were poked by the soldier back in the bushes.”

“Well, what do you want?” I asked him. (I saw that there was no use of further denial.) He stepped up closer to me, squeezing my mound and said: “I want to poke you too, do you understand?” “No! No! Get away, get out of here.” But he slapped me in the face. “I'll show you who to push!” he said. “You'll poke a soldier; me, you want to push away! I'll show you! I'll follow you home and tell your mother. I know you.” With a jump I stepped aside and started to run, but he caught up with me, took me by the shoulder and was about to slap me again. When I saw that it was no use, I said: “All right, come on. I'll let you poke m%.” We went back to the bushes and I got down. He lifted my dress and lay on top of me, saying: “All afternoon I have been waiting for some girl to poke!” “How did you happen to see me?” “I was lying on the grass when the soldier came to you and then I followed the two of you.” He had a nice, pointed spear and poked quite well. I soon began to enjoy it, wondering why I had tried to run away from him. The boy must have enjoyed it too, for he was working like clockwork. Although it was quite painful, I was a very proud girl. Again I was being poked like a grown woman. It took quite a little time for the boy to finish, but at last he was through, at which he jumped up and ran away, and I started walking again. Presently I recognized a familiar building, found my street and made my way home. When I arrived, I found that father and mother were gone. They probably had gone to the inn for the evening. The boys were asleep and Mr. Eckhard also was asleep. When I came in, however, Mr. Eckhard awoke and he whispered to me.

I stepped up to him and he put my hand on his shaft, which was standing straight and stiff. He was completely naked, and I could feel his thighs, stem and sack-in short, everything he had! “Don't you want to diddle?” he asked. I answered: “Not tonight!” He tried to put his hand under my clothes but I drew back, afraid that he would discover that I was wet. However, I was tugging his tool with all my might and became so excited that I forgot everything else.

Raising my dress he lifted me upon him and began to work up and down, whispering: “Beautiful angel! Sweetheart!” Fortunately he did not notice my wet condition. Then he started to 'squirt' and wet me to such an extent that my skirt did not dry over night. This certainly had been an eventful day for me, nearly as eventful as the day when Robert taught me how to really poke and suck. Franz still followed Mrs. Rhinelander, and I also kept a close watch on her in order to report any new developments to my brother. I often observed her talking to a Mr. Horak, whom I suspected of being intimate with her, and in this case I was not mistaken, as it turned out later. This man was a beer salesman, coming to her house every day with a load of beer, which he unloaded into the storage room in the basement. He was a man of about thirty years, large, strong and athletic. He had a red face and wore small, gold earrings, which I particularly noticed. I thought him a fine looking man, always wearing either white overalls or a blue suit. A heavy, silver watch-chain with a small, silver horse for a charm was particularly noticeable.

One day on my return from school I saw Mrs. Rhinelander and Mr. Horak talking together. She was wearing a loose, red blouse and no corsets, and her whole breasts, even the nipples, were plainly visible. Mr. Horak leaned close to her, both of them laughing. When he reached for her titties, she pushed him away, and, when he made a movement to put his hand under her clothes, she jumped back, but all in fun. Soon they were talking earnestly in low tones, then he disappeared into the house, immediately followed by Mrs. Rhinelander, who went down to the cellar. Waiting a few moments, I crept after her. I discovered a niche in the wall from which I could see everything without being observed, there being a dim light coming through the opening between the barrels of beer. Mr. Horak and Mrs. Rhinelander were in the center of the cellar, hugging and kissing. He had unbuttoned her blouse and was playing with her breasts. They were milk-white, large and firm. I noticed that as Mr. Horak played with them the nipples seemed to grow stiff. While he was kissing her, she was feeling around the front of his trousers; then she opened the flap, reaching away up inside. As she stroked his shaft, she began to shiver, getting much excited. The enormous engine was so long that her hand seemed small beside it as she worked it up and down. I was astonished at its great length and thinness. Mr. Horak, breathing so hard that I could hear him plainly where I stood, now pushed her towards a large barrel, on which she sat with her back against the wall. She whispered: “Come quick. I can't stand this any longer!” He then took her legs in his arms and held her up while she inserted his shaft. He shoved it into her as far as he could, and she whispered hoarsely: “For goodness sake! You are pushing my stomach out of place!” Since I had never seen it done in this way before, I watched closely, missing nothing. He had his hand down between her breasts. She constantly kissed him, grunting and moaning: “Oh! I can't stand this any longer-I am going to die!-Now- don't squirt yet-I am 'coming'-my goodness-I am 'coming' again-Oh Lord!-Hold back-don't squirt, I beg you!-This is heavenly-I-Jesus-Mary-If my old man could only poke me like you do-I am 'going off again-that feels so big in me -Shove it clear in-Oh! God!-I have never had anyone as good as you are!-I can feel it clear up in my throat!-If I had only known this, you could have had it long ago!-A person must be a fool to deny herself such a great pleasure-Oh! Oh! Lord! Faster, faster!-My God!-Oh, that feels good!” Mr. Horak, however, did not answer, but kept right on poking. Meanwhile, Mrs. Rhinelander was now writhing and twisting around on the barrel, her buttocks extending away out in front. He grabbed her cheeks and, with one final push, sheathed his sword completely. “Ah!-Ah!” she moaned with pleasure. His head then sank exhausted. He withdrew his shaft and she jumped down, arranged her clothing. Then throwing herself around his neck and kissing him, she exclaimed: “Not one man in ten can do it like that!” He calmly lit a cigarette, asking: “How many times did you come?” “Oh, I don't know. At least five.”

Then, beginning to finger her breasts and slit, he asked: “How many times do you come when your husband pokes you?” She replied in a disgusted tone: “Not at all. He no sooner puts it in that he 'squirts,' just teasing me, leaving me so excited that I have to satisfy myself with my fingers!” “But why don't you tell him to treat you better?” “I do, but he says that all men poke alike; that there is no different way. But I know different! He does not dream that I get myself a little booty on the side now and then. A piece of real meat. I often think that if I could make him do it a second time it would take longer and perhaps I could 'go off,' but no use. He can't raise another shaft. Often I try taking it in my mouth, but no success. You can't imagine how far such a man can drive a woman. Sometimes I go insanely mad for want of it. He nearly drives me crazy. He simply won't poke me properly.” Horak stepped up closer to her. He was still holding her white breasts, which looked very good to me. He said: “Why don't you show me how you take it in your mouth for him. I've never had it done that way.” “I don't believe that, Mr. Horak,” replied she. “I am sure that you could have any woman you wanted. They will all be only too glad to do that for you.”

In my hiding place I thought the same and would be glad to do anything for him. “No,” he remarked, “I want it done that way by you. Come on. Show me!” He pushed her back on the barrel, still holding her breasts, and stood very close to her. “But that is not necessary with you,” she said. “You will get stiff without that.”

At which he pulled out his weapon, which now hung down soft and limber, saving: “See, he will not get stiff again!” She took hold of it, saying: “You are getting me all excited again, and I haven't got any time. I must go-” But he kept on caressing her, playing with her breasts. Suddenly she stopped and took it in her mouth. It was now his turn to cry: “Mother-Mary -and Joseph!” At that moment I heard someone descending the cellar stairs. The two lovers seemed to be too engrossed to notice. Unthinkingly I called out: “Some one is coming!” And I darted away from my hiding place.

Thunderstruck, they stared at me, unable to move. Mr. Horak put his engine back in his trousers and buttoned them hurriedly. Then he helped Mrs. Rhinelander button up her blouse. I stepped up beside them, also afraid of who might be coming. We stood there staring at each other, they looking very much ashamed but saying nothing.

The intruder happened to be the landlord of the building. He passed, nodding to us, and seemed to notice nothing unusual in our appearance. He got a broom from the corner and went back upstairs.

Mr. Horak stood staring at the wall, not daring to look at me. Mrs. Rhinelander, seeing that he would not talk, caught my hands, crying: “Did you see anything, dearie?” I shook my head at first, and then laughed. I said: “I saw the whole thing!” She became frightened and seemed about to run away. Then she apparently thought better of it. She continued to hold me and they looked at each other helplessly. Mr. Horak put his hand in his pocket and took out a silver coin, a gulden, which he handed to me. I was much pleased at this turn of affairs, for I had expected a good thrashing at least. Now, however, all my anxiety vanished as I realized that they were afraid of me. I laughed, starting to go, but Mrs. Rhinelander called me back, saying in a wheedling way: “Wait a little, sweetheart!” She whispered something in Mr. Horak's ear. He turned quite red. Then she said: “Come here, little one!” As I came to her, she put an arm around me and said in a friendly way: “Now tell us. What did you really see?” When I did not answer her, she said: “Come now, tell me. Tell what you know!” And still when I did not answer, she said: “You see, you know nothing.” But I replied: “Oh, yes, I did!” “Well, then talk. Don't be afraid of Mr. Horak. If you tell Mr. Horak he will give you a present-or he'll show you something nice. Well, now-?” “First you sat on the barrel and Mr. Horak was between your legs!” She hugged me tightly, saying: “Well, go on!”

I took out her breasts, showing how Horak had played with them.

She asked: “Well, anything else?” I again whispered into her ear: “I saw you take this thing in your mouth.” Still holding me tightly in her arms, she asked: “And do you know what that is called?”

Mr. Horak came closer to us. She winked at him as she again asked me. Anxious to show that I was not innocent, I answered: “Yes, Mrs. Rhinelander.” “Come, my dear girl; tell me what it is?” I snuggled close to her, refusing to tell. I could see that my teasing manner excited her. She reached over, took Mr. Horak's shaft-which was again stiff and straight-and, as I watched closely, she stroked its head and said: “Now, won't you tell?” When I remained silent, she put my hand on his shaft-to which I did not object-and slowly worked the foreskin back and forth, smiling up at him at the same time. His knees began to quiver. Mrs. Rhinelander now pushed my head down until my mouth was close to the throbbing engine. I could not resist. Taking it in my mouth, I began to suck on it. I could feel the pulsations. It was so long that I could only get a quarter of its length into my mouth. I was sucking and licking it when Mrs. Rhinelander said to him: “Don't 'squirt'; I want some too!” She now put me down off her lap and at once buried his sword in her scabbard. Then, turning to me, she said: “Now, do you know what this is called?” “Poking!” I cried. Mr. Horak reached under my dress and began playing with my 'kitten,' putting one finger after the other. My legs shook with pleasure. I seemed to be burning up. In this manner, we all three 'went off' together. Having finished, Mr. Horak, buttoning his trousers, remarked: “The child is an artist.”

Mrs. Rhinelander smilingly said: “I saw that at once. She is a little wench, a natural whore!” She asked me: “Have you been poked yet?” I naturally denied it, but she insisted: “I don't believe you. Don't lie. How often have you done it?” But I insisted: “Never! I have only seen it done at home.” Mrs. Rhinelander and I then went upstairs, while Mr. Horak remained in the cellar. She seemed now like a partner, and I was very proud of this community of interest with a grown-up woman. This was something different from Anna and Mizzie and the rest. I thought of Ferdl having poked her up in the garret; since he had often poked me too, it seemed as if there were a bond between us. As we got upstairs, I confessed that I had not told her the truth before. This I owned up to the fact that I had been poked before. She wanted to know all about it: how often, with whom, etc. I replied: “Possibly ten times or more.” Then I played my trump card and said: “With several boys-one of them Ferdl, the big boy, Anna's brother; you know him!” She denied it, but I kept on saying: “You surely remember him, he helped you carry the wash to the attic.” She said: “Oh yes, I remember him now.” Leaning close to her, I whispered: “You know, he told me all about it!”

She cut me short saying: “Shut your mouth!” That settled that. A few days later I saw Mr. Horak going into the cellar. I called “hello” to him. Spying me, and making sure that no one was in sight, he called to me: “Come along to the cellar.” I was all too glad to go.

As we reached the dark passageway, he turned and, catching my head, pressed my face to the front of his trousers. I immediately put my hand into his pants and took out his shaft, which I held in both hands, rubbing it gently. He remarked: “How nicely you do that.”

After such praise, I tried to please him. I reached into his pants and began to play with his eggs, while with the other hand I continually rubbed his foreskin back and forth. “Take it in your mouth!” he begged. I refused. I don't know why, but I wanted to do it somewhere else. “I will give you another gulden if you will take it in your mouth,” he said. But I still declined, saying to him: “Do it to me like you did to Mrs. Rhinelander!” In great astonishment, he said: “You want me to poke you?” I nodded.

He then said: “But, child, you are too small!” I kept on playing with his shaft, rubbing my mound against it and trying to put it inside me, all the while saying: “I am not too small. I can poke!”

“But you haven't any hair on you!” “That makes no difference. I want to get poked!” “Have you ever done it?” I nodded. He said: “How often?” I said: “Several times.”

He lifted me up and held me astride his hips, the same as one would carry a child, supporting me with one hand while I put my arms around his neck. With his other hand, he lifted my clothes and opened my slit with his fingers. Then he started the ascent. I could feel the head of his immense organ going into me. I jumped up and down, trying to help him invade me. However, I was too small to receive him. After trying for some time, he put me down, saying: “No! It won't go like this!” I noticed how red his shaft had become from rubbing against my body. He sat down on a small keg and rolled a smaller one in front of him. Then he turned to me and drew me to him, with my back touching him, as I stood on the small keg. This pleased me greatly, for I thought that he was going to invade me from behind as Robert had done in bed. But, instead, he ordered me to bend forward. I did so, bracing my elbows on another keg, my little bottom raised high in the air. I turned my head and saw him wetting his shaft with saliva. He said that this would make it go in easier. Then, raising my dress, he got up, leaned over me and started boring into the cleft between my buttocks. I was very much frightened at this turn of affairs. I wanted to scream, but he quieted me, saying: “If it hurts, tell me.” He then pushed further. What's more in addition to thrusting his tool into my bottom, he pushed his finger into my grotto. “Does it hurt?” he asked. Although it did hurt a little, the wonderful sensation which tickled both orifices was so delightful that I answered: “No!” He then bored a little deeper and again asked if it hurt me. I replied in the negative. He now pushed further, until I feared that the mammoth machine must be all the way into me. (He told me, later, that he had been able to get only about half of it in.) At first I was disgusted to think of receiving a poke in this manner, but, as he worked on, I became calmer. The fear of being hurt disappeared and the tingling sensation felt so good that I began to moan with pleasure. He then withdrew, anxiously asking whether he had hurt me. This was an unpleasant interruption to a wonderful sensation, and I stretched up too, saying: “No, no! It doesn't hurt…! Please leave it in and keep on.”

He now put it in again and I whispered: “just keep it there-there-oh! That feels so good!” He was very gentle about it, and kept playing with my grotto all the time. Finally he was in to the hilt. I could not help thinking of the ragged boy who poked me in the bushes and who was the one to get my maidenhead; of the soldier who tried so hard but could not succeed; of Robert, who had got part way in, and of Mr. Eckhard, who had gone a bit further. The thoughts made me so excited that I was almost beside myself. To feel my lover's lance better, I several times pinched my cheeks together tightly, greatly affecting Mr. Horak. He leaned forward, clutching me to him, working violently and whispering: “You darling! That's right-pinch some more-you sweet little whore-you must let me poke you thoroughly every day!-I'll meet you right here tomorrow and every day!”

“Every day?” I asked. “Yes, every damned day, you darling little whore! Every day I want to poke you!” This conversation wrought me up to a still greater pitch of excitement. “You want to poke me every day? But that will be impossible! Don't you think so?”

“Why will it?” he demanded, pushing still harder. “But what if Mrs. Rhinelander comes?” “Nonsense!” he whispered, “I like you a great deal better.” “I don't believe it!” “But, I tell you, it's true.” He now was inside me so far that I could feel his eggs bumping against my thighs. “But,” I reminded him, “Mrs. Rhinelander has big titties.” “I don't care. You will soon have big ones too!” “No, not for a long time yet.” Then he comforted me by telling me: “Just do lots of poking and they will grow fast, never fear.” I was so pleased at this that I squeezed my buttocks several times. He stopped talking and breathed very hard. Then, suddenly, he said: “Now! Now! Oh, my goodness! I felt something warm inside of me and knew that he was 'going off. His spear jerked furiously and his hot finger probed deep within my canal. I felt one hot wave after another go through me, as though I were being licked all over by a red hot tongue! I was breathing hard and moaning! When I got up, the hot juice was running down my legs like a waterfall.