Anonymous - Pauline

I agreed, naturally. The thing held a certain amount of spice, and I wasn't at all sure but what I would take the first man who came along.

Later that day we went to the place. We were assigned two rooms. The following morning, just before daylight, we crept away. I, for one, had had all the men I wanted for one evening.

From that day until I left Camilla, we had dozens of men, and I had the satisfaction of initiating Camilla into that little game known as sixty-nine.

I had planned on going to London, since I had business there, but I left a little sooner than I intended, and my decision to go earlier was brought about in a somewhat unusual manner.

One afternoon Camilla had a caller. This was a beautiful French girl. She, it seemed, she also had business in London, and I suggested that we go together.

She willingly agreed to this arrangement. I noted that she was unusually pretty, well-formed, and sported a pair of the prettiest legs I have ever seen. Bidding adieu to Camilla and promising to spend more time with her, Babette (that being her name) and I left.

We sailed across the channel, and since we had embarked late in the afternoon, and because the weather outside was damp and foggy, we adjourned to our cabin. It contained two beds, and I couldn't help but notice how elated she seemed at the prospect of being so near me.

As I have said, Babette was a very pretty girl, and as you might have guessed, I was looking forward to becoming better acquainted with her. I suggested having dinner in our room, since I was too tired to dress for dinner, and Babette readily agreed.

I said, “Slip out of your clothes, dear, and we'll enjoy our dinner in more comfortable attire. Being something of a nudist, I can't bear much clothing."

Darting into a tiny dressing room, she gave a startled little laugh, and cried, “That's funny; so am I, but I hope I won't shock you."

I heard water running and knew Babette was taking a bath; a very considerate gesture I thought. Most actresses are more or less careless with the exposure of their body and limbs, and I'm sure the deck steward got something of a shock at the gown I was wearing when he brought dinner in.

Dinner placed upon the table and the steward gone, Babette came into the room. The poor kid was a little low on cash and had little or nothing of extra clothing, but I had provided her with certain articles of apparel, two of which she was wearing now: a knee-length dressing gown and a tiny undervest of black georgette crepe.

After our dinner, she said, “I'm sorry I lied to you, dear, but my name isn't Babette, its Sarolta. I had a little trouble in Paris, and used the name Babette."

"Nothing serious, I hope."

"Just a board bill, but in Paris that's serious,” she answered.

"Then forget it,” I said. “I have plenty of money and you're welcome to it. What's more, when we get to London, I'll purchase you a whole new outfit, from head to toe."

"You're awfully good,” she said, “and I can't lie to you. I'm not an actress, at least I haven't worked at it for very long. I'm, well… I guess I'm just a little whore."

"Forget all about it,” I said, seeing a tear in each of her eyes. “We've all made mistakes, and, well-if you must know it, this little thing between my legs is almost screaming aloud for a stiff prick. Anyway,” I continued, “I'm glad you told me that much about it, for now I can feel ever so much more at home.” I slipped the gown from my shoulders-underneath I was naked. The cabin sported a broad couch, and going to this I threw myself down, stretched languidly, and said, “I can't bear a stitch of clothing when I feel like I do now."

|"Then you should go with me to Mrs. Meredith's home; no one ever thinks of wearing a stitch of clothing there,” she offered, throwing herself down beside me after dropping her own gown, but still retaining the tiny undervest.

"Indeed,” I said, patting her smooth, warm thigh, “you interest me, my dear. Tell me about it,” and I continued to stroke the warm flesh of her shapely leg. Sarolta, however, didn't get to describing her friend, Mrs. Meredith. I had already taken note of the profuse, raven black hair that almost buried her little slit, and wishing to hurry what was on my mind, I said, “Naughty, I thought you were a nudist. I feel silly lying here without anything on and you all dressed up in a chemise."

"There,” she said, throwing off the thing and turning about so I could view her splendid body, now completely nude. “Is that the way you want me?"

She moved to the couch again and settled down, raising her hands to toy with her glorious head of hair. Her knees being separated, I was given a view of her delicious little cunt. I wanted it-I never wanted anything more-but I went slowly. Placing my hand on her leg again and feeling her, I said, “Really, dear, I had no idea your skin was so soft and velvety. And this hair… how lovely and black it is,” I continued, running my fingers through it; it ran far up on her belly and its feel quite thrilled me.

"Like it?” she asked, raising one leg, thus allowing me more freedom, which I took by diving my fingers lower down.

"It's lovely,” I said.

Turning, she glanced down at my hairy patch, “But it's not nearly as silky as yours; you must have taken good care of it.” Then the daring girl slid her hand into the patch, feeling and toying with it and running her fingers up and down through it.

"You like mine?” I asked, separating my legs a little, a move which she quickly took advantage of by sliding her fingers into my crotch and gently caressing my slit.

"It's beautiful,” she said in a low voice.

"I'm glad you like it, dear, for your naughty fingers feel lovely, but if you keep it up, I'll have to ask you to finish it for me."

"You really like it?” she asked, smiling into my eyes and probing into the soft flesh. And when I told her I did, she said, “Then perhaps you'll like this better,” and dropping to her knees beside me, she slipped her face between my thighs gave me one of the most delightful gamahuchings I ever had.

"Did you like that?” she asked, raising and leaning over me.

"How did you know I wanted that, you little minx?"

She replied, “Camilla told me you loved to be sucked off, and I love doing it.” She said this in the most matter-of-fact way.

"And do you like having it done to you?” I asked.

"Sometimes,” she answered, “but I'd rather do it anytime than have it done, and that's why I'm going to London. There are any number at Mrs. Meredith's who delight in having it done."

Never in my short life had I ever heard anything like this.

Using her own words, I said, “Do you like to suck my cunt, dear?"

"I love it. Shall I do it again?"

I nodded my approval, and she quickly got her face between my legs, giving me another, far sweeter thrill than before.

A further description of what happened between us is useless here.

In London, I found this Mrs. Meredith a very charming woman. In her early thirties, she was wealthy, single, and lived for the pure love of living. I discovered, too, a very charming lady there whom I had previously met, and who turned out to be a sister-in-law of Ferry, my previous lover. Strangely enough, this woman knew all about my affairs with Ferry, and then I discovered that she, like the other women and girls there, was a strict believer in free-love.

The place enchanted me. Mrs. Meredith was one of the most charming women it has been my good fortune to meet, and her home, besides being spacious, was beautiful and was frequented by the elite of London.

"We have no secrets,” she smilingly told me. “Ferry's sister-in-law has told me all about you, and we welcome you as one of us. We sincerely hope you will make my place of abode your home as long as it is possible for you to remain in London.” With that, she kissed me, told me she thought me beautiful, then said, “Please do not think I presume, but I would keenly enjoy spending the night with you, if you haven't other plans."