Don De V - La Tarantula an Erotic Tale of Spain

Again, the Arabian clapped his hands. This time, the Negroes brought in two pipes. "Hasheesh!" the Arabian explained, as he tendered one of

the pipes to La Tarantula. She accepted it hesitantly. "Do not be afraid," he said. "It will give you strange but pleasant dreams!"

"But why must I smoke hasheesh?" she asked.

"Because I would fuck you!" the Arabian answered.

"But why the hasheesh?" she continued.

As if in reply, the Arab turned the flap of his gown aside and uncovered the region of his penis. There, nestling in a wad of hair, La Tarantula saw the cock of a boy of ten, like a little worm, seemingly inadequate for intercourse even with a rabbit.

As though he read the puzzling question in her features, the Arab explained. "Hasheesh gives you dreams of exaggeration. Everything around you takes on an enormous stature."

La Tarantula needed no more explanation. Taking the preferred lighted pipe, she inserted the stem into her mouth as she lay reclining on her elbow on a mattress of soft pillows on the divan. Taking in one deep puff of the smoke, she inhaled deeply, allowing the acrid fumes to sink into her lungs, almost choking from it. Seated across the room she saw the Arabian preparing his own pipe, stuffing the tiny bowl of his pipe with the fine golden greenish-tinged power called bhang but known as hasheesh. "I shall smoke only one pipe for company with you," he said, "after that, I shall drink it in my coffee for smoking it has no effect on me!"

Lying on her elbow, La Tarantula felt an hilarious laugh running through her body. Something about what the Arabian had said sounded uproariously funny. And she gave vent to a loud laugh which subsided into a series of giggles.

The Arabian watched her through guarded narrow eyes and nodded his head. He knew that this was the effect of the first stage of hasheesh smoking. Soon she would be holding her sides with laughter, roaring at any chance remark that he might make, imagining that every word he spoke was marvellously humorous. But La Tarantula was laughing at something else besides what she thought was the Arabian's wit. She was laughing because she wondered what the poor fellow was going to do with that little, up-up thing he called his cock. And, as she tried to imagine it being inserted into her cunt, she knew that it would be lost in her hole like a needle in a haystack.

Deeper and deeper she puffed the fumes of the pipe. And with each puff, she seemed to feel that her body was shrinking up within her and that her surroundings were gradually taking on the proportions of a giant's room. A plant in one corner seemed to appear like an enormous swaying palm tree. A tinkling fountain in the patio that she could just about glimpse through Moorish archways in the other room was a gigantic display of waterworks thrusting an immense needle of water into a great spray from which there roared the sound of a Niagara waterfall. Outside, a horse and cart jogged over the cobblestones on the street. But what she heard was a mighty rumble of thunder reverberating in a chasm of infinity, sounding and resounding through measureless mountain passes. In another room, a musician was playing a violin. But, although the strings had been muted, the resultant music to La Tarantula was like the music of the spheres sounding in majestic diapason from planet to planet, heavenly music swelling in mighty chords that could be heard a million miles away as from an orchestra of ten million instruments and a whole world of singers.

Then she looked down at what had once been a tiny worm of a prick between the legs of the Arabian. What she now saw was the bulking cock of a Don Juan, the balls of an El Gallo, the rampant galloping cock of a true fuckman. Immediately, her fingers shook nervously for contact with the great big thing.

Her cunt quivered for cuntact. Her ass shook for cantact. Her lips quavered for kintact. Her soul longed for kentact. Everything about her ached to have that overcharged battery of sexual dynamite exploding within her. She moaned. She sighed. She extended her arms to his cock beckoning for him to come to her hastily before it might diminish in size.

Tenderly, she took the seemingly enormous prick into her hands and stroked its length with her fingers. Under the massage, the thing seemed to take on added stature. For, with a series of spurts it grew larger and larger so that La Tarantula became riggish with the desire to have the thing already in her and poking her vitals about madly.

Slowly, the Arabian adjusted himself over the tremulous body of the olive-skinned gypsy girl lying outstretched on the divan. Through the diaphanous gown he saw the brown triangle of hair at her cleft.

Reverently, he lifted the gossamer away, gradually bringing to view the unadorned beauty of her cunt. When he spread her legs wide and saw the gaping hole awaiting the entrance of his boyish worm of a cock, he fervently hoped that the results of the hasheesh would suffice for him to complete the fuck. Otherwise, she would come to her senses and realize that, instead of a huge mastodon of a prick in her there was only the undeveloped penis of a child. It did not take him very long to insert his stiffened fingersize prick into her. But as he did so, he managed to keep his index finger alongside of it so as to stiffen it all the more and to give it the feeling of more body. And as he guided it into the receptive hot hole, he allowed his finger to brush up against the button that stood sentinel over her cunny, and thus give the sensation that it was his prick that was fucking her and not his finger.

But La Tarantula was unaware of the deception that was taking place in her avaricious cunny. The effects of the drug still had a firm hold of her senses. She still imagined the violin playing was music of the spheres. She still imagined that the cock within her was an oversized behemoth of a veritable Gargantua filling every inch of her cunt with its expansive magnitude and almost bursting her bottom in its monstrous plunges into her.

At times she imagined that she was unable to stand the pressure of the fuck any longer. The insistent cock pushed into her again and again and she felt certain that it was tearing away the delicate tissues that lined her quim. What an immense thing this Arabian had, she thought.

Never before had there been such a prick up inside of her. Never before had her bottom been so distended with live active cock. Back and forth she felt the monster shoot it into her and with each movement her body seemed to fill out with its bulk.

She didn't know how long this went on.

Time became non-existent to her. All she knew was that fucking her, pistoning her, burgeoning inside her, there was a prick, a man's prick, a prick such as the world had never before imagined could have existed.

But the wonderful thing about it all was that that marvellous prick was inside of her at that very minute. And that, in a few seconds, it would bring her to an orgasm.

Sure enough, just as she thought of it, she felt the insistent boiling up in her loins. The small of her back ached with a steady pain. She heaved her guts wildly. Her hips she whirled in insane gyrations. Avidly, her lips sought the bewhiskered lips of the Arabian. Crazily, her hands sought his body, sought the secret parts of his body so that she might enjoy every part of him when the climax evidenced itself.

But he, the Arabian, was suffering damnably. Looking down at her, he saw her face crease in the throes of an engulfing passion. Her lips formed themselves succubus-like over his lips. Her tongue roamed around his mouth. Her teeth bit his lips gently. Her hands sought his private parts with trembling fingers. But he was cold. He was unable to work himself up into the same pitch that she was now undergoing. For, though she imagined and felt the man-sized prick in her and reacted physically to it, he knew that he had in her only a boy's-size piddler that diddled around ineffectively in her boiling cunny. A red rage came over him. He must work himself up into the same passionate fervour. If for this one time only, he was going to bring himself to a man-sized passion even though possessing of only a boy's-size prick.