Pierre le Valle - The Pleasures of Bankruptcy

The woman quivered at his commanding touch. She let him press the velvet of her flushed cheek against his tanned countenance as he adjusted her to his liking. But the position in which he placed her made her start and exclaim sharply in her golden voice. For a futile instant he tried to rise from his lap-but his grip constrained her as though she were a child.

And so his yearning to press his own distended sex-hardened and throbbing as a result of her story-upon the soft splendour of her rounded buttocks-was realized. He pressed her down upon it-thrusting her firmly into his lap as she continued weakly to resist.

Through the thin fabrics which separated their flesh their mutual warmth penetrated. Quivering and with a were about her now, and she nestled her head into the angle of his shoulder with a tiny murmur of content.

She strove to keep her buttocks motionless upon that throbbing and monstrous affair which they pressed… but every little while as, upon his insistence, she continued her story, her luxuriant behind just would squirm softly, and thrillingly against his person.

“You were saying,” he whispered, “that your son first moulded the flesh of your naked bottom… after he had uncovered it?”

“Not only that,” she replied falteringly. “He seemed to simply worship my twin mounds. He devoured the soft flesh with his mouth and his fingers. He kissed — and licked-and nibbled-and even bit me gently. I was startled and almost terrified by his gasping, hot breath on my naked flesh. I was moved too-why try to conceal it… I was terribly moved by what he was doing.”

“My remonstrances were stifled in my throat by the choking and horrible pleasure which affected all my being I seemed to have no strength to combat him now. Even when he parted the cheeks of my bottom and peered within the cleft-and thrust unfilial fingers into the valley-and touched with a probing forefinger the tiny orifice he found there… I could only moan with shame and a fiery ecstasy.”

“Finding me so unresistant, Lester became moved to an infernal audacity. He twisted around so as to mount my bottom, and rubbed his virility furiously upon my soft buttocks — easily mastered my squirming, with strong fingers which sank deeply into the flesh of my hips.”

“It was not until he had contrived to lodge his penis in the furrow between my twin mounds, and had begun to rob his member to and fro there as if in a sheath, that I was suddenly inspired to a final and successful attempt to dislodge him.”

“I rolled over and sat up, dishevelled and panting. I weakly attempted to cover my slender, naked legs, so noticeably protruding from my disordered robe. I looked tremblingly at my nude son, who knelt there discomforted and panting.”

“I was shaking with the inner conflict between desire and a sense of motherly rectitude. As I look back I can see very clearly that if Lester's knowledge had been on a par with his sensual desires, he could have thrust me over backwards and… and taken me-”

“He could have fucked you, you mean?” breathed her malicious tormentor in her ear… as his hand moulded her soft yet swelling breast.

“Yes-” said Rose, simply and directly. “He could have fucked me. Since you seem to wish to make me as common and vulgar as possible, I'll use your word of a vicious schoolboy. But the boy was half crying at my own obvious distress, and his sorrow soothed me to the point where I stammered something to the effect that he mustn't treat his mother's body like that-and then held out ray arms to him in reconciliation.”

“He was in them immediately and affectionately-so much to that he bore me backwards at full length. But this time I was flat on my back, and he was lying between my fully extended and bare legs. He was quickly comforted, hugging me, kissing me. I hugged him in return… but I was sighing as I did so-with the sensuous effects of his naked male virility pressing almost dominantly upon me.”

“The slender, wiry legs had seemed to part my own limbs and slip in between them almost instinctively, and his warm kisses were setting me aflame with desire. For there was another thing which now occurred which was hard to explain in a mere lad. He breathed something about my parted lips looking like a flower-and he began to lick them hotly-thrusting his tongue into my mouth in search of my own.”

“I was startled and shaken more than ever. In my surprise and agitation he had discovered my unresisting tongue and was caressing and tickling it with his own. I can only imagine that at some time or other he must have seen his father kiss me in such a manner.”

“For my husband was very addicted to this form of kissing, mingling it in affection and passion. He had taught me to enjoy it greatly-to-to reciprocate. He loved to use his tongue… when greatly excited.”

“And only on your rosy mouth and tongue?” whispered Mr. Freeman.

Rose affected not to hear-but her enhanced flush was a vivid reply.

“And now I found my son doing the same thing…” she continued hurriedly. Ignoring his query.

“I asked you a question.” remarked the man. “I mean to have an answer.” He squeezed the flesh of her buttock, and his other hand groped through the thin fabric and grasped in her lap-seizing a mound so plump that it made a handful for him as he squeezed its lusciously soft flesh — a mound so gauzily covered that his fingers could sense the abundant growth of sex hair which hid it-as he squeezed and pressed.

Rose Bolton gasped and cringed. Her little cry was a soft, imploring moan of mingled shame and passion.

“I beg of you-I implore you. Mr. Freeman!” she said with a wail, 'don't treat me like this! Am I a girl of the streets-just because you have forced me to tell you of my… my experiences? How can you humiliate me so?”

“No girl of the streets-nor of the frivolous world-is one half as desirable as you.” he said thickly. “By God, you are a queen of women, but even that will not save you from telling me what I want to know.

His breath was hot upon her neck-her bosom-on a taut nipple through the thin silk of her gown. With a descivious gesture he was moulding with his strong fingers the soft plumpness of her genital mound-and gradually his hand was boring still deeper into her lap. A long forefinger curved downward. It sought… found… and pressed.

And the woman, breathing hoarsely, writhed upon his knees. “Ohhh! Have mercy!” she begged. “Can't you see… that you are d-driving m-me mad?”

“Whenever you are ready.” he said, “you may answer my question. It was about your husband's employment of his tongue in amorous ways…”

“He-he licked m-me… I've told you that.” quavered Rose in a shamed voice.

Silently he continued the voluptuously inflaming play of hand and finger-unrelentingly demanding confessions which she struggled to refuse. And after a futile effort to wrest herself from his embrace. Rose Bolton collapsed against him-panting.

“I'll tell-I'll tell,” she wailed. “Only stop! He… he… he loved to lick-not only my lips and tongue… but everywhere! There-I've told you… for God's sake- stop driving me crazy!”

He had forced her full, lovely thighs so far apart by this time that his fingertip moved untramelled up and down in a delicate furrow whose warmth was perceptible through the thin silk that covered it. Rose moaned and twisted upon his swollen weapon — and pulsing flames seemed to shoot through both their veins.

“Details… I want the details!” he almost gasped.

“Bat… I can't t-alk-if you keep on… d-doing that to m-me-“ stammered the victim.

“What am I doing? Tell me and I will stop!” he said hotly. “I promise.”

“You are touching me-handling me-so indecently,” came Rose's smothered gasp in reply. She understood the price which she must pay to his perversity-to his yearning for the defilement of her chaste and refined lips by the use of these obscene words.