Anonymous - Frank and I

I will now pass over a space of three years. Frances was twenty-four years of age, and I was nearly forty. During the time that had passed, we had got on very well together; and I never again had had to find fault with her for any lightness of conduct; though she was much admired wherever we went, and she always had men dangling after her in the various hotels we stayed at when we were on the Continent. However, as she never permitted her admirers to become familiar, I did not mind her amusing herself by flirting a little. Brooke, we had never seen again.

Though Frances had never been unfaithful to me, I must confess that I had been occasionally unfaithful to her; simply out of desire for a change. But I never once had come across a woman who had a better figure, or who was a more delicious poke, than my sweetheart.

I had not constantly lived with her, but had spent part of my rime at Oakhurst; also going once a year to Scotland. And I had always taken her to some seaside place for a month in the summer, and had also taken her abroad part of every winter. We had visited Spain, and Algiers; and one year I had taken her for a six weeks cruise up the Mediterranean in one of the yachting steamers.

I had never again birched her, though I had occasionally given her a sound spanking; which she had invariably taken without making any fuss, other than the little squeals of pain she uttered, and the tears she shed while smarting under the operation. We were still fond of each other in a placid son of way, like old married people; and we both enjoyed our nights when we were together.

I had, however, latterly often caught myself wondering how it was all going to end: for I had an idea that sooner or later, I should find the connection irksome, and want to put an end to it. So, in view of that contingency, I had invested a sum of money in Frances’ name. in various safe shares and securities which were paying well; therefore in the event of our parting company, she would have a very fair income. After all, it was the least I could do for the woman whom I had seduced, and who had always been faithful to me.

I never said a word to Frances about the money I had set aside for her; and she appeared to be perfectly happy in her little house whenever I was with her; and when I was away she always wrote to me in good spirits.

But to resume the thread of my story. It was the end of November and I had just arrived at King’s Cross station, after an absence of two months, which had been spent at various country houses; and during the time I had been away, I had never seen Frances, nor had I once poked a woman; consequently I was eagerly looking forward to the moment when I should hold my pretty sweetheart in my arms.

I reached the villa about five o’clock, and was received in a most affectionate manner by Frances, who was looking very lovely in a pretty frock of some soft, dark material, cut square at the neck, showing the upper part of her white bosom. We sat down cosily beside the fire, in the well-lit, prettily furnished little drawing-room, and while Frances busied herself making the tea, I told her all about the various people with whom I had been staying. She poured out a cup of tea and brought it to me, standing behind my chair while I sipped the refreshing beverage, and every now and then bending over to give me a kiss.

Finally she perched herself upon my knees; then, as a matter of course my hand found its way up her clothes, and toyed with the silky hair of the “spot,”-she had on no drawers, — while her hand unbuttoned my trousers and let out my tool, which was in a very rampant state, after its two months rest. She gently, with her forefinger and thumb, covered and uncovered the red tip several times; saying, with a laugh: “I wonder if it has been a good boy while it has been away?”

“Yes, it has,” I remarked, smiling. “Don’t you see how stiff k is?”

“Oh, that proves nothing! It is very easily made stiff; but anyway I am going to take the stiffness out of it now.”

So saying, she got off my knees, and turned her back towards me; then she deliberately raised all her dainty skirts above her waist, and stood for a moment, so that I might see and admire her beautiful white bottom and plump thighs. Then backing close up to me, she put her hand between her legs, and seizing my member, she guided it to the right spot, then gradually lowering herself down, she took my prick inch by inch into her tight cunt, till her bottom touched my balls, and she sat on my lap, with her back resting against my chest. Putting my arms round her waist under her petticoats, I clasped my hands on her cool soft belly, and began to poke her vigorously, by moving my loins up and down. My movements were ably seconded by Frances, who raised and lowered her bottom in a most voluptuous way; so that in a very few seconds, I “spent” with a prolonged quiver of sexual excitement, depositing a copious offering in the “grotto of love.”

When all was over, we retired to our bedroom and had a wash; then we went down to dinner; which Frances had taken care should be a nice one. We had some clear soup; turbot with lobster sauce; a brace of roast grouse, and a souffl6; and we drank sherry and champagne. We also had dessert, with coffee and liqueurs. Then, after I had smoked a cigar, we went into the drawing-room. It had, however, struck me all through dinner, that Frances, though lively and in good spirits, had not been quite so talkative as usual I settled down in an easy-chair to read the evening paper, while she took up a book; but I noticed that she did not seem to be much interested in what she was reading; and every now and then she glanced at me with a troubled expression on her face. I could see she was bothered about something, and I wondered what it was. A few minutes passed; then she put down her book, and coming to me, sat down in her old way upon a stool at my feet, resting her arm upon my knees, and looking up in my face. “Charley,” she said, in a serious tone of voice, “I have something very particular to say to you.”

I was rather surprised at her grave manner, which was quite unusual with her. “Well, what is it?” I lightly asked; expecting to be told that she had run into debt with her dressmaker, or something of that sort.

But the communication she made to me, had reference to a matter of far greater importance than a milliner’s bill.

She began: “You know I am very grateful to you for all your kindness to me since the day you took me into your house: and we have always got on well together. I love you still, and I think you are still a little fond of me; but I have often thought that some day you may get married;-though you will never find a woman who will love you more than I have.

“Or you may take it into your head to leave me, for some reason or other; and then what would become of me?”

“Oh, my dear girl,” I said, bending down and giving her a kiss, “if either of the events you have mentioned should happen, your future would be all right. I have taken care that you shall never want. But why have you told me all this? I shall never marry; and I don’t wish to leave you.”

She gave me a grateful kiss, saying: “Ah, you may not wish to leave me just at present, but I am afraid you will get tired of me in course of time. I am young now; and you say I am pretty. But I shall not be always so.”

I felt there was a good deal of truth in what she had said; so I made no remark; and she went on, hurriedly: “Now, what I have to tell you will astonish, and perhaps make you angry; but I feel that I ought no longer to keep you in ignorance of certain things which have happened to me during your absence.”