Anonymous - Confessions of an Author

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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