Jacky S - Suburban Souls, Book I

“Do I hurt you, Jacky?”

“No!”

“And now,” pressing it with all her strength.

“No! I like that!”

“It does hurt, but you won't say so. I'll try again,” and she gripped the acorn top through the cloth.

“Ah! Now you hurt me! But I like the pain coming from you, Lilian!”

It was cozy in the pretty little room, and I was very comfortable in Lilian's embrace! My head almost underneath her arm; my delighted nostrils enjoying the odor of her armpits; the true coppery, wild-beast fragrance of a brunette, who, during her menstrual period, puts no water on her body.

She now began to undo my trousers. I put out my hand to help her.

“No! Let me do it. I like to arrange it my way.”

She unbuttoned the breeches, and drew out the little gentleman, who was as pleased as Punch to show himself and stood up bravely.

“Ah! here is my poupée! I love to see it and play with it! Are you happy, Jacky?”

“Yes, Lilian. I am so pleased to be caressed by you. I like you to see me thus, all shamelessly exposed to your gaze. Kiss me! Now look at it! Keep your eyes on it!”

She gently moved her hand up and down the shaft. She was more expert than when she had masturbated me in August.

“I want to see more of you,” she said, and I opened my trousers as fully as I could, letting them down a little and pulling out the testicles. These she caressed as well and passed her hand even lower down, tickling the neutral zone between the scrotum and the fundament. And then she closed her hand, manipulated me furiously for a few seconds, and when I moved convulsively, feeling that I was about to spend, she suddenly stopped.

“Why do you cease, darling?”

“I don't want to make you enjoy too soon. I am trying to make the pleasure last as long as I can!”

Lilian had been taking lessons, I saw plainly.

“Well, do what you like with me. But don't hurt me. Would you like to hurt me? Or violate me, perhaps?”

“Oh, no, dearest.”

“I should like to be quite naked with you, all dressed as you are!”

She molded my testicles, never taking her eyes from my weapon, and then once more firmly grasped it with her left hand, supporting me against her breast with her right arm.

For a little while longer, she continued her play, shaking it violently in her soft hand, and gradually going slower until her fingers became motionless. A wee caress of the wrinkled purse, an exploration of the perineum, and then back to the principal actor, who, no longer able to restrain himself, burst in delicious agony and sent a gush of semen on to my belly, followed by several thick clots, much to Lilian's delight, as I distinctly felt a thrill run through her frame, the unmistakable shudder of voluptuous pleasure, that I knew so well.

“Why! You've come too, Lilian!” I exclaimed, in delighted rapture, as soon as I regained my senses.

“Yes! How do you know?”

“I felt you spend!”

She was still under the influence of the feeling that the onanistic play had excited in her, and she threw herself furiously upon me and, taking my head in her hands, thrust her mad tongue down my throat, and sucked my lips until she took my breath away.

She was a real woman at that moment of her life, inasmuch as she adored the male, with the true evidence of the force of his desire pointing to heaven and would have let a man do anything to her, and she would have done anything to his body.

She rose and fetched a clean dish-cloth from the adjoining kitchen, as she said she did not dare go upstairs to get a towel. She carefully wiped away all traces of the recent spermatic eruption, and we settled down for a talk, after she had got me some brandy and water.

She looked over the second volume of Justine, and enjoyed the pictures. A little packet was ready for me, containing the first volume, and also Flossie, The Yellow Room, Colonel Spanker's Lecture, The Horn Book, and The Convent School.

And then we spoke of marriage, and I talked about her virginity, narrowly watching her expressive face the while. I told her that our voluptuous games were all very well in their way, but if I lived beneath the same roof with her for a few days, I should most surely have complete connection.

“Indeed,” I added, “you, Lilian, would ask me yourself to make you a woman.”

I saw again the troubled, puzzled look come into her eyes; there was an expression of pain in her face and she leant her cheek on her clenched hand, which was tightly clasped.

“Should I? Tell me more, Jacky. Talk to me. I like to hear you.”

I told her how delicious the nuptial tie must be, when both man and wife really love each other, when there is no disgust, no repugnance. On the other hand, how horrible for a girl to be thrown into the arms of a brutal male, who violates her on the first night, and perhaps makes her hate the approach of a man ever afterwards.

“Yes, that must be horrible!”

A change came over her. She looked angry, worried, pained, and disgusted, and seemed full of regret. A confession was trembling on her lips. She looked at me with melting eyes, and then they flashed fire. As I spoke, she seemed angry with herself and with me. A pause, a sigh, and she regained her self-possession, entrusted me with Papa's commissions in Paris and gave me the money to get them done. She lost her temper, and began worrying me about the plan to spend Sunday with her. I refused once more, and complained vaguely of her conduct towards me during the past winter and how unreasonable she was even now.

“Would you have sent for me, if I had not written my last letter?”

She was turning over the pages of Justine as I spoke, and she looked up at me with a wondering, wandering look in her fine brown eyes, and these words dropped languidly from her fevered lips, tired by a long series of wet kisses:

“I don't know!”

“I read you so well. I know how bad you are, and yet I am here. It is a great struggle between this”-I touched my penis-“and this”-I placed my hand to my forehead.

“But how about that?” and she put her hand on my heart.

“Never mind that, I won't tell you anything more. I'll say nothing.”

“I suppose you think I am not worthy to listen to you? Or perhaps that I cannot understand?”

“Perhaps. Anyhow, you will find out one day how I loved you, and later on I shall have my revenge. Oh! Not as you think; I shall never harm you. Other men will avenge me. When you shall have been jeered at, mocked, and sullied; forced to smile, when some syphilitic wretch shall have made you sick with his pestilential breath; crushed beneath the weight of a monster, covered perchance with eczema; sweating; stinking; you will retch with disgust, and between two fits of vomiting, softly in the night you'll cry bitter tears, and despite yourself, my name will come from your lips, yet burning from the pressure of the hated mouth. You will call for me: 'Jacky! Jacky!' And he will not be there!”

“But I shall never have anything to do with monsters, so that can't happen to me!”

I looked at the clock. I just had time to catch the last train.

“Oh! Of course, there you are looking at the time. You are tired of me already.”

I sat down again and listened as she told me to see about some seats for the Opéra Comique, the new building which had only been inaugurated in December. She wished to go with her first workwoman, I think. I departed, and lamp in hand, she opened the door to me, but could come no farther, as a perfect storm of wind and rain was now raging.

“I shall look forward to your visit on Sunday.”

“Not Sunday, please, Lilian.”

“Yes, or you will see how angry I shall be.”

“Not Sunday, my darling.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”