Anonymous - Confessions of an Author

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

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

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

One thing remained with me for a long time after this first great adventure: a certain fear for all those well-dressed women belonging to the higher classes. I returned to those secret sins of my youth, alone with my own nudity in the bathroom, and had so many orgasms that I started to suffer from nervous exhaustion.

But then I met a poor little salesgirl and she was the first woman with whom I had relations again. It was only a short interlude of such little duration that I would not have remembered it were it not for the fact that I have it written down in my diary. And while I am writing this the memory of this entire little episode comes back to me.

I can see again the badly undernourished body of the little one, her shrunken breasts. I really do not understand now, especially after having been used to Rita's voluptuous charms, how I could possibly have become excited at the sight of this poor miserable creature. And yet, it happened! I was aimlessly wandering through the city and I saw the girl go into the cathedral. She moved like a shadow up the steps and disappeared through the half-opened door into the church. It is probably that, at that moment, desire for female company had awakened in me again, and the half-child with its poverty-stricken look excited me. I don't know, but I went after her.

She had knelt in front of a saint's statue whose name I was unable to find out. He stood on his pedestal wearing only a loincloth and at his feet stood a raven or a crow or something. A small lamp lit her face with a reddish glow and to me she appeared at that moment remarkably beautiful. She looked up at the almost-nude saint, her hands folded in prayer and her breathing was rapid and very audible. I kneeled next to her, brushing against her as if by accident.

“What's the name of that saint?” I whispered softly.

“I don't know,” she answered.

She glanced in my direction when she said that and smiled at me. I moved a little bit closer arid my hand pressed against her thigh. No response. I moved closer again. And then she whispered at me, “Why don't we sit down on a bench?”

She got up and went to one of those low benches that are completely hidden in the darkness. I went after her. For a while we sat there, quietly and without moving, then my hand went out to her, searching, feeling and caressing. She raised herself a little bit, lifted her skirt and sat down again. When I went with my hand under her skirt, I felt naked flesh. It upset me, but quietly, as if walking a forbidden path, my hand moved on. I touched her belly. I went lower. The girl opened up her thighs, she grabbed my finger and helped it penetrate her. After a while her head lolled and her body started to spasm. Then she pulled my hand away from under her skirt and brought it to her lips, kissing it. She started to nibble on my fingers, groaning, and at the same time I felt her hand groping for the bulge that had formed in my trousers.

I just sat there without moving and I knew that even with Rita I had never known such delight. She tried to unbutton my trousers, but suddenly she said, “Let's go.” It sounded so softly, yet so passionately, longing. At the door she dipped her fingers in the holy water and crossed herself. We walked up and down the quiet side street next to the cathedral. There were no people in sight We were both incapable of bringing out a word; the excitement had made our throats dry. Finally the girl pushed me into a hallway and there she embraced me, kissing me sweetly and reverently … Rita had never kissed me like that!

“Do you want me?” she asked shyly. I held her tightly. And then she told me that she knew about a little inn near the railroad station where we could be together without being disturbed. After we had walked along for about ten minutes, she suddenly stopped.

“Oh, wait a moment,” she said, “I first have to see if I have enough money with me.” She pulled out a small purse.

I laughed. “Don't be silly, I have enough money with me.”

But she did not want to hear about that. She did not want me to pay. “If I want you with me, then it shouldn't cost you anything.”

At first I revolted. Wasn't that exactly like Rita? If I want you with me! Do I only exist to be wanted by rutting females? But my desire for this girl was stronger than my objections to being used again and I said only, “But I walked after you into the cathedral; I was the one who talked to you first; I wanted to have you!”

But she hooked her arm into mine and nuzzled up to me.

Later, when we were together in bed in the simple hotel room, and after she had kissed my whole body during a scene of fervent passion, she looked up at me, putting her hand under her chin, and said sadly, “You know that you are the first one who wanted to have me. Oh, every time when I cannot stand it any longer I have taken a boy to this place. It is not difficult with all those poor students who don't have money enough to get themselves a girl. They are always grateful. And I only like the very young ones; the older ones make me sick.”

I bragged to her about my previous affair, of course, without mentioning Rita's name. But the little one laughed and told me the name. She said that she had heard it from a couple of high school boys with whom she had been to this little inn. They had told her about this incredibly beautiful woman who was absolutely insatiable and who sometimes took on two boys at the same time, either in bed or in her bathtub. And the little girl freely admitted that she would do exactly the same if she had the money, even two at the same time … no, that … never! You really couldn't love two at the same time, and to do it without love wasn't worth doing it. She started to kiss me all over again and exclaimed, “I want you! Please, love me! Please, feel me …” And, after we had reached our full satisfaction, she took my hands and kissed them, assuring me that she could not think of anything more beautiful. “I would rather have even less money but more often a good-looking boy like you.”

Before we parted, she said, “I will go back to the cathedral for sure tomorrow; I have to thank that darling little nude saint who has helped me in getting you.” And then she confessed to me that she always went there and that she, if nobody would talk to her and go with her, at least could look at the saint's nakedness. She would rub her thighs together and get at least some satisfaction. We made a date to see each other again in the little hotel.

“If you really show up, then I will promise to remain faithful to you,” she said, looking at me with a very honest expression on her face. I think what attracted me most to her was her honesty and her gratitude for being with me.