Sue Suckit - Justine

Yes, I, my own heroine, am today, eighteen years old, I have got a nice little fortune salted away in saving banks and trust companies, and I have made every cent of it myself in making men's semen spurt, and still I was a virgin until a short time ago. Shall I tell you about it?

Many men and women have made fortunes with their mouths, orators and singers; I earned mine by making my lovers sing and dance in sweet priapian spending, to the soft caress of clinging lips and the turgid touches of my tickling tongue.

At fourteen, my father and mother died, and I was left to the care of trusty Uncle Will, a bachelor of fifty, who always appeared to hate petticoats and all they contained. He had money enough and was kind to me in a rough sort of way, and treated me as a fragile piece of glass, that would break all to pieces if he touched me.

We lived in handsome apartments with one servant and a colored man of thirty. Uncle Will was fifty, I was fourteen, as I said, wearing skirts only to my ankles, a child yet, but well developed; not especially handsome but with large melting eyes and lips full and red with warm blood, and a round rosy figure, that Uncle Will, after we became well acquainted, vowed was a perfect pocket edition of Venus.

I knew I had a crevice nestling between the cute little curls of brown hair at the bottom of my belly; but of its most important function as a reception room for men, I was profoundly ignorant, as I also was of how men appear when paying their respects to it, for I, only knew that men had little nozzles there, when I had seen them by chance, peeing, as I called it; of its virile functions I knew naught.

A modest maiden until one day the book of Revelations was opened to me.

It was a warm afternoon and dinner over, I had gone to my room and in chemise and short skirts, was just throwing myself on the bed, when I remembered an interesting book that I had commenced, and started down to the library to get it. The door was locked and I went out on the balcony to enter the window; the shutters were closed and I wondered why.

A young girl is a very curious animal and naturally I peeped in through the blinds.

That peep, launched me body and soul on the sea of voluptuousness and desire, and at one blow knocked off the maiden manacles and prepared me to become a Priestess of Priapus, for there was a sofa, and in full view lay Uncle Will, a pretty little book in his hand, and below, his shirt up to his waist, and his breeches down to his knees, the white expanse of belly and thighs all bare, while in the other hand he held the sceptre whose sweet fruit it has been my life's work to touch, taste and eat- that dear horn of plenty which has made me rich in profit and pleasure.

Oh, what a creeping spasm of desire guided by thought and hand to the innocent slit, hidden modestly in the soft shadows between my thighs!

How virgin innocence jumped quickly to the conclusion that these two things, man's and woman's, this stiff protuberance and this deep depression were made to fit each other; that one was the complement of the other, that humanity was, complete only when these two parts were one.

A beautiful shaft, white but with an undertone of rich, red blood; a crinkled scarlet bag with thick curly hair all around it and then, as with finger and thumb he gently caressed the stately spear, holding it bolt upright, its red and barbed head appeared a luscious bulb of naked flesh, seeming ready to burst with what, I knew not.

Quickly Uncle Will's eyes sped over the pages of his book, and quickly up and down upon his lovely sceptre, his closed hand pulled down and pushed up the envelope of white skin upon the rosy rod.

Bigger and bigger it grew; gorged it seemed with something that it must get rid of-till I heard him mutter.

It is coming! and tossing the book aside, he ran over to a wash basin near where I was peeping, and I, fearless, rooted to the spot, saw him rub his closed hand up and down the ivory staff fast and furiously, till he gave a sigh and out of the lovely red head flew shot after shot of thick white stuff, that darted high up into the air, straight towards me, hitting the shutters behind which I stood, until he bent the flowing fountain into the bowl and pumped out all the remnant of the rich overflow with nimble hand jerks, while his face was a rosy picture of voluptuous enjoyment.

Wildly excited I watched each movement till he threw himself again upon the sofa, when lust-led, my hand reached out to where the first wild shots had hit the shutters and came in contact with the slimy cream that glistened there.

Instinctively I wiped it up and with lustful eyes gazed on the pearly drops upon my fingers, and then I licked them off with my tongue and lips, until unable to stand it any longer, I ran to my room threw myself onto the bed and rubbed my hand, slippery still with some of his hot emission, against my mad, hot mount, until I felt a fire of fervent passion burn into every vein and gave down my first offering to the god of lust, mingling his overflow on my fingers with my own slim exudation.

What did it all mean; I had seen and felt effects, what caused them? I was eager to learn.

From Uncle Will? Oh no! The book! That was it! The book he had been reading on the sofa. I felt that this would tell me all.

The library case was all open except one side, which was curtained; here was the undiscovered country; but how to unlock it? I tried it every day, every time that I was alone in the library but my careful uncle carried the key in his pocket.

I was in despair, wild to know all I knew this book would teach me. One day, my Uncle Will was invited out to dine and he said good bye to me, dressed in a swallow tail. Henry, too, the colored man, asked permission to go out and I was left alone.

Locking the outer doors, I tried again to get into-the bookcase, used every key that I could find but none fitted. I was hot, the blood was surging through me with desire.

I ran to my room, stripped naked and was just about throwing myself on my bed to give myself relief, when the thought of how much more vivid my emotions would be in Uncle Will's bed, made me jump and run into his room.

How funny and foolish lust can make us; the first thing my eyes fell upon was Uncle Will's trousers thrown over a chair. I fell on my knees before the garment, whose nearness to him I envied; as they hung flat against the chair, the flap in front was open; I gazed ardently at his envelope of what I wished for and clasping my arms around the insensate cloth, buried my face between the open flap in front and tried to imagine that I was kissing the lovely tenant that dwelt there.

I pressed them to my breast and spurred by my amorous fire threw myself on the edge of the bed, and with outstretched legs clasped close to my seething slit, the opening that held that lovely engine of his, while with excited hand I rubbed my hairy mount and my fervid fancy tried to picture it, his lovely sceptre until nature came to my relief.

With wet, nerveless fingers, the trousers left my grasp, and fell to the floor. The jingle of metal aroused me. The keys The keys!

I seized the breeches and quickly from a pocket, drew the bunch of keys, cold keys to unlock hot joys!

I forgot my languor. I sprang up and in a second was at the bookcase trying key after key in the forbidden lock, the fourth accomplished my purpose and I threw open the door.

Three shelves of pretty little books and over them a painting of a charming girl, reclining naked in a chair, her arms wide open and her thighs thrown wide apart the whole domain of love spread boldly out-it was lovely, I was burning!

I snatched a book and ran to my room.