Anonymous: The Altar of Venus

Now, it might reasonably have been expected that these little incursions into the realms of concupiscence would have paved the way to others of a more advanced nature. But such was not the case; she never ventured to extend the simple repertoire, nor did it ever occur to me to so much as* wonder what she might have between her own legs. For upward of a year the spankings continued and then, much to my regret, she took her departure from our midst. And though it concerned me not the slightest at the time, I often speculated in after years as to precisely what there had been for her in all this and what pleasure she could have derived from the performance. Possibly the mere handling and fingering of my small but eminently masculine attributes in their state of sexual excitation reacted upon her own sensibilities, provoking a species of reciprocal echo. At-any rate, I remember her with the kindliest feelings of appreciation.

I was seven years old when I made an important discovery. In the yard which surrounded our home were a number of trees. Among them was one of the eucalyptus variety, slim and straight as an arrow. Some six or seven inches in diameter at the base, its verdant bark as smooth as silk and not a branch or twig to mar its lissom symmetry for thirty or forty feet above the ground. There was something distinctly feminine about this young tree. Perhaps it was the smooth, beautiful bark, and its slender gracefulness which set it apart in vivid contrast with its gnarled and rugged companions.

One afternoon, having nothing better to do, I endeavored to climb this tree by the "shinning" process. As you may not know just what the term means I will explain that, having no limbs or protuberances within reach which would provide foot holds, the only way to climb such a tree was to wrap one's arms and legs tightly about the trunk, and by virtue of much wriggling and squirming, work one's way upward inch by inch. I had succeeded in hunching myself upward a short distance in this fashion when I began to feel again that delicious tremor which the hand of our erstwhile maid had formerly provoked. It was being produced by the friction and rubbing of my cock against the tree. When I realized this I clamped my legs tighter and wriggled more energetically and the more I wriggled, the more pronounced became that teasingly, pleasant sensation. I redoubled my efforts, and abruptly something seemed to burst down there inside, and as it burst, a wave of delicious sensations was radiated through my body from head to foot. I had experienced my first orgasm. Half dazed, forgetting that I was at some elevation, I relaxed my grip on the tree, and half slid, half fell to the ground, where for some moments I lay in a state of amazed wonder. When my wits returned,\ I essayed another climb, but the nice feeling refused to repeat itself. Another effort the next day was more successful and needless to state, that tree was for some time hence the object of my most fervent adoration. So I may say with all truthfulness that my first sweetheart was a slender young tree. I remained faithful to this love until in the due course of time, I found that the nice feeling could be reproduced in a far simpler and much less arduous manner namely, a little manual manipulation, and then the tree went into the discard.

At nine I was in my second year of school and was being initiated (in theory) in the mechanism of love by well informed young companions. An intriguing word of four letters was being constantly brought to my attention as it appeared mysteriously chalked on the walls of toilets, sometimes in more public places. The little girls snickered, giggled, or blushed at covertly whispered words, or signs and motions. Or with simulated indignation threatened to "tell the teacher." I knew now that these little girls had something between their legs entirely different from what boys had; something in the nature of an opening, provided for the express purpose of having a boy's cock inserted therein, and that when so inserted both parties to the transaction enjoyed ineffable delights. And my heart hungered for practical demonstrations. But, alas, I was not of a bold and forward disposition, and could not bolster up my courage to the point of asking a girl to "do it" with me, the proper formula, according to my more venturesome comrades. And so, I had to content myself with listening to their tales of conquests, while my heart was consumed with envy. I would have blushed with shame to have been obliged to confess it, but up to this period I had never so much as glimpsed in a single instance that mysterious region between a little girls legs. True, they played and disported themselves at times with careless abandon, in which short dresses were well elevated, but they invariably had on panties which effectually concealed the salient point of interest. With what enthusiasm would I have hailed a law probiting the use of panties by girls.

There was one for whom I eventually came to feel an overwhelming passion, but my love was mixed with awe, I guarded it a close secret, nor ventured by word or act to convey any indication of its existence to the object of my adoration. Her name was Flora. A golden haired little fairy who wore her hair in long curls. Flora's age was about that of my own or possibly a little younger. I watched and admired from the distance, and was filled with rage when one boy, a coarse, displeasing fellow in my opinion, calmly observed that he had "done it" with Flora. It was a lie, I felt certain, a bit of bragging designed to awaken the envy of his hearers, but I hated him cordially from that moment and on the slightest provocation would have picked a fight with him.

I passed my waking hours in day dreams of Flora. Before falling to sleep at night I imagined delicious situations in which she and I were thrown together under circumstances which forced us to sleep together. We were marooned on tropical islands, or lost in the wilds. In fancy I hugged her naked body to mine, touched and caressed her limbs, fondled her to my heart's content and delighted my eyes with the vision of her nude loveliness, to fall asleep at last with my cock sticking straight up while Flora danced through fantastic dreams.

'Tis said that all things come to him who waits. And one Saturday afternoon I passed by a vacant lot in which a group of youngsters from my neighborhood were playing. Flora was amongst them. Somebody shouted my name, calling me to join them. Not having business elsewhere of sufficient importance to offset the pleasure of being near Flora I immediately accepted the invitation. Little did I suspect it at the moment, but wonderful things were in store for me that sunny June afternoon. It is thus that Fortune favors us when we least expect her grace.

After a while the charming little mistress of my heart approached me, and with a friendly smile on her face, whispered:

"Let's you and I run off and play by ourselves."

Had the sun suddenly turned green I could not have been more surprised. It was the first time she had ever addressed me except in the most impersonal manner. Furthermore, the secretive way in which she had communicated the little message, the furtive look she cast toward the others as she whispered it, were pregnant with romance. My heart leaped with pleasure as I nodded my conformity.

"All right! Come on!" she answered in a low voice, and together we slipped away unobserved by the rest. When we had rounded a corner, and were out of their range of vision, she again placed her lips close to my ear and shielding her mouth with her hand, whispered:

"Let's go to the park and play married!"

The surprise I had received when she first addressed me was nothing compared to the electrical effect of this second communication for the expression "playing married" had a very concise, and unmistakable meaning in our little world -a meaning which admitted of no misinterpretations.