Anonymous - The simple tale of Susan Aked

'My little darling! My own sweetest, darling Susan! how did you like that?'

'Oh, Lucia, it was heavenly! Do it again, darling!' I cried, clasping her between my thighs, and pressing my glowing cunt to hers.

'Not just yet, dearest! No, Susan, I have come at least fifteen times, and you are wet as a drowned rat! Indeed so am I, you naughty little girl! How you do spend!'

'You taught me,' said I.

'Ah, yes! You are a darling and splendid pupil, my Susan, and a perfect mine of these pearls!' said she, pointing to a drop depending from her bush which, when it dropped onto my thigh as she got off me, felt cold.

'Now,' she continued, 'Come, get up! We must ablutionise.'

We both got out of bed. Lucia dropped her chemise and stood naked and beautiful before me. I did the same. She again exclaimed at what she called the extraordinary gracefulness of my figure, and again wished she was a man.

We washed one another's cunnies, and then, naked as we were, again got into bed, and with arms round one another's waists, and thighs locked in thighs, we pressed our bosoms together, and Lucia continued her instructions.

'Well, Susanna mia, that little bit of initiation was a nice interlude, and imperfect as it was, it has shown you at least how you will have to lie when you are had, a la Adam and Eve, by a man, for you must not imagine for a moment that a man has only one way of fucking a girl. There are heaps of ways, all more or less nice, but to my simple mind the Adam and Eve is the best of all, because it is the most natural and the most perfect.'

'But, Lucia darling,' said I, 'I have not a notion of what you mean by “Adam and Eve” as compared with other ways. You said you would tell me how a man should well do it with a girl, so as to be perfect in his action.'

'Oh, my modest little mouse! Now, Susan, say “fuck”.'

'I was not quite sure of the term, Lucia dearest. I did not mean to be over-particular. Well, tell me exactly how a man should fuck a girl, so as to give her the most complete pleasure. For my part, not knowing what it is like, I should imagine that the mere sensation of having so big a thing as you say a man's prick is, inside one's cunt, would be rather disagreeable than otherwise. Why, even you, who have, you tell me, been fucked, have quite a tight little cunt. How on earth can such a small, narrow slit like this take in a thing as thick as one's wrist? I can hardly believe it or, if I do believe it, I can hardly fancy its being pleasant.'

Lucia listened to me with a smiling face. She kissed me, and put her hand on my motte, slipping her finger up to her knuckles into my still throbbing cunnie.

'Yes, my Susan. Our cunts are, luckily for us and our lovers, small and tight. If they were not, neither they nor we would have half the pleasure we do. I say we, because it won't be long now before you know what a delicious, deliriously rapturous and excessively delightful thing it is to be well and often fucked. Oh dear, why have I not a prick? How easy it would be to show you, darling; far more easy than to explain!'

'Oh, Lucia do go on! Tell me, girl you keep me actually on thorns of expectation!'

Lucia laughed, passed her finger deliciously two or three times up and down my cunnie, then took it out, and grasped my left breast in her hand, pressing it gently, as though she loved doing so.

'Well, Susan, here it goes. Now I'll do my best to describe what a man should do to give you the acme of pleasure. First of all he should put his prick into your hand. It is a most thrilling thing to feel; oh, it is delightful when you feel it from end to end. Its hardness like iron; its soft velvety skin, its soft cushion-like head and its shifting hood; his grand balls in their wrinkled, silky, soft bag; and the thick, rough bush out of which this galaxy of manly charms grows, all form objects of delight to the hand that knows how to caress them, and to the cunt which expects so soon to feel their powerful action. Whilst your hand is enjoying itself, and giving your lover the greatest delight also, his hand will be stirring up the very depths of pleasure in you. By the way, before I forget it, let me warn you, when handling a man's prick in this way, do not caress its head too much. It is sensitive, and too much rubbing produces spasms which are very delicious for him, but destructive of your pleasure, for you might make it too excited, and cause him to be too ready to spend. The longer a man takes during the fuck, the greater your pleasure for he does not spend over and over again during a fuck, but once only. That done, he is done too, for the time. So confine your caresses to the shaft of his prick, to his balls, his groin, and his bush, but leave the head of his prick alone, if you are wise. Whilst you are thus caressing him, he will be kissing you. He will be squeezing your dear little bubbies. He will be toying with your tongue with the tip of his. Presently his mouth will kiss you along your neck, until it reaches your bosom. He will kiss your breast with rapture, and nibble each little, hard rosebud. Whilst sending you wild in this manner, his hand will glide over your smooth body and seek your motte; you will feel his hand press between your thighs. Then he will stroke your cunnie so'-she did it to me-'and he will gently press the lips of your cunt together and tickle your clitoris, this little kind of tongue, a veritable imitation of his own prick, but much smaller; then he will slip his big middle finger deep into your cunnie, and tickle you here.' She slipped hers in and found the narrow, tight inner entrance, which she set on fire immediately with her caressing, making me involuntarily spend.

'You quick little darling!' she exclaimed. 'How you do spend! Won't you just like being fucked? Well, now I must not use you up in that way. Keep your spend for when we will have another bout of rub-cunnie. Now, Susan,' she continued, again taking possession of my glowing bubbies, 'you can feel, even from my poor little feminine hand, how very sensitive your cunt is all about the entrance. It is sensitive all along its whole depth, but the sensitive portion par excellence is about the entrance. The difference between a good fucker and an indifferent one, is in the fact that the really good fucker knows this and does his best to produce the most ecstatic pleasure in you by cultivating this extra sensitivity of the cunnie. Imagine your man now with his two knees between yours. He leans over, but not upon you. He supports himself on his elbow. You take his prick, and plant its head justly and neatly between the lips of your cunnie. Then you put your arms round his waist and, with a little pressure on his part, in goes his prick, quite over the shoulder of its head. Its hood slips back, and you feel the sweet thing filling the outer vestibule of your cunt. Then he draws back until he is almost out, and smoothly and gently pushes in again. This time, with an indescribable thrill, you feel that big head force its way sweetly past the inner, narrow entrance. That thrill is worth a fortune, it is so delicious. Then he draws back until he is almost out; with more decided sweeps he thrusts his powerful swelling prick in, passes the narrows, and buries it half-way in your throbbing and beating cunnie. These movements he continues, always drawing almost out, always gaining, by gentle but smoothly repeated thrusts, ground in your cunt. Presently, and all too quickly, you feel his pendant balls touch you beneath your cunnie. Then they beat more firmly against you, and last of all his belly, which has been touching yours all along, presses yours; his hairy motte mingles its brush with yours; your cushion feels his, and his last thrust brings your bodies into the most intimate and close contact. Now the real delight begins. Every stroke, every thrust he gives, is from head to heel of his prick. He gives you long, smooth, deliberate thrusts; every line of those long seven or eight inches tells upon you. You come, you spend, time after time, yet not a drop goes outside. His prick, so to say, closes your cunnie tightly, and your spend only makes its movements more easy inside you. As your pleasure increases, so does his. Presently his agonies of delight begin. All his nerves seem concentrated in the head of his prick, until his sensations are so vivid as almost to take his senses away. Then begin the all too short, as time is concerned, short digs. He shortens his strokes but quickens them, banging his balls against you with great force. Then suddenly he spends, pouring out the fullest riches of his manly strength. You feel it flowing fast into you, like a torrent, like a powerful artery shooting its blood into you. He presses you as though he would crush you into pulp. He forces his prick in, even further than you would think possible. Your downy motte is flattened by his, and all Heaven and its Glories seem open to you! It is over. You have been fucked, and well fucked. Then comes a delightful interval of repose. He lets his body lie all along yours, and he kisses you and pets you and calls you all the pretty things he thinks of. His manly bosom rests on your heaving bubbies, your cunnie, if it has the nutcrackers, tightens and loosens on his prick, giving him further delight. Your motte throbs against his, until you become conscious that his prick does not fill you quite so much as it did, and you feel it gradually slipping out. Your lover gets from between your thighs, and lies on his side, clasping you with his arms, and locking his thighs with yours, as mine do now. The fuck is at an end, and cannot be repeated until his prick stands again.'