Felix Salten - The Memoirs of Josephine Mutzenbacher

“I beg you, please-Mr. Rudolph!” “What's that?” he chuckled, playing harder with my titties. “Please, Mr. Rudolph!” I repeated. “Say it!” he shouted pushing me against the wall.

“Please, Mr. Rudolph-poke me!” I said obediently. “Well, then, come-” He went to the bed, and I followed. “Lie down!”

I obeyed. “Raise your clothes!” Again I obeyed. He looked at me as I lay there, then commanded: “Unbutton my pants!”

I obeyed this order. As I did, his shaft popped out. It was long and white and curved upward. He got on top of me, saying: “And now, you must put it in yourself.” I did as he ordered. I felt a pleasant shock. Also I had lost my fear of the police. I breathed easier. Now he had his weapon almost all in. Still he remained perfectly quiet. He aid, “Now, you must say, 'Please, Mr. Rudolph, push!'“ “Please, Mr. Rudolph-push!” I gladly repeated. My breasts were bare and he played with them a while as he slowly worked his tool inside me. Then he slowly withdrew it mostly all the way. Oh, how I hated him! Yet, I was made passionate from his slow, regular movements. After about ten of these insertions I began to work. I was now enjoying it despite my hate for him, and wondering why I had dreaded him for so long a time. “Oh! Oh!” he said, “now I shall poke Pepi often!” And I answered: “Yes, but harder! Harder! I am coming-oh, yes-poke me often-as often as you please!” “That is right,” he responded. “Now we understand each other, and we will get along fine.” “Oh!” I whispered, “I am 'coming'-please, 'come' too, Mr. Rudolph!” “Take it easy!” he replied. “I have plenty of time.” Keeping up the same slow movement, he then asked: “Do you often get poked by your father?” I lied: “No, this was the first time that he tried it.” Pushing his shaft way in again, he said: “Don't lie!” “Oh, I am 'coming'-I am 'coming' again-” I called.

“Tell me the truth!” he commanded. “Yes! Yes!” I answered.

“So; you and your father poke very often?” “Yes-often-I am 'coming! Again-faster-faster!” “When mostly?” “Mostly at night!” “Since when?” “About six months ago.” “Every night?” “No!” “Does he poke well?” “Yes!” “Better than I?” “No, oh no,” I assured him. “Oh-I am 'coming' again!”

“Do you also take it in your mouth,” he inquired further.

“Yes!” “And you will take mine?” “Yes,” I promised him.

“And does he 'suck' you off?” “Yes!” “Do you want me to do it to you, too?” He kept this up for about half an hour. I fairly swam in my own bliss and juices. At last he stammered: “I am 'coming' now!-Now!-Now!” He filled me with such a discharge that you could hear it gurgle as it ran out of my grotto. “I knew at once,” he said afterwards, “that I was going to poke you!”

“How?” “Because I know at once what was going on when I heard the story about the teacher and then I saw that you slept with your father.” “I can't help it,” I replied, defending myself. “Father said so.” “I believe that,” he laughed. “You won't tell anybody?” I wanted to know. “Of course not, if you will always let me poke you.” “Yes, I will always let you,” I answered. “And, besides-I have known it for some time,” he smiled. “What do you mean?” “Well, your 'doings' with your father.” “How so?” “Because I have watched you several times.” Shocked once more, I said: “When? Where and when did you see it?” “Several times on Sunday morning.” “So?”

“Shall I prove it? Last Sunday you were on top the first time, then you took it in your mouth and then you finished the second underneath-isn't that right?” “Yes,” I said. He got up, saying: “Well, from today on, you are my sweetheart; now I have two.”

“Two?” “Yes.” “And who is the other one?” “You will see her soon enough.” At that he left. After that he came in every morning after father had gone, inquiring: “Well, anything doing last night?” I had to tell him whether I had been poked or not. He also wanted to know whether I was being poked by any other men. I denied this and wisely told him nothing about the priest. He did not stay with me every day. Often he would just play around for a while, telling me: “Nothing doing today. Yesterday I poked my sweetheart. I did not like him except when he was doing it to me. I did not hate him anymore, however. I thought him unusually clever and looked up to him. I went to see the priest about every two weeks. By now my visits were not confession, repentance, doing penance or cleansing. One day as soon as I came into the room, he undressed me, then poked me and sucked me off. I did the same to him. We talked frankly, nothing but smut; since then I treated him as other men, even calling him by his given name. Rudolph treated me well, as also did my father. I wanted nothing more. When father played with my titties while dressing or I played with his shaft, I had nothing to fear for I knew that Rudolph was not watching. Several times I jokingly remarked: “This morning you could have caught me and my father.” And he replied: “Did you go all the way?” “No, but he played with me again.” “Well, let him play-I will not watch anymore. Several times while playing with me father remarked: “Psst! Rudolph might come in!” It was I who quieted him. “Never mind, he is asleep.” One morning, having opened my chemise, Father was kissing and sucking my nipples-an act which, to the present day arouses my passions at once. He was clad only in his nightshirt. I reached for his shaft and, when I stroked it, it at once stood erect. Putting his hand under my chemise, he pushed me towards the bed. I happened to think of Rudolph, and resisted, saying: “No! No! He might hear!” “Nonsense, he is sleeping,” father said, “and I will 'come' quickly!” “Well, come this way!” I did not dare lie down.

“But you will have no pleasure this way,” he remarked. “I don't need any,” I said, anxious not to have Rudolph catch us.

But he would not have it. “No, no, no, come on!” he urged.

Since I was also getting anxious for “it,” I let him throw me on the bed, and, not to waste time, I put it in myself. “Now, father, please push!” He began pushing. “Oh, faster-faster!” I pleaded. “Oh-today it is so good!” he whispered. “I am 'coming" already-now!” I said: “Just one more push-there-there-I am 'coming” too!” I felt him “going,” but just then the door opened. Rudolph appeared and directly inquired: “What are you doing there, neighbor?” Father was non-plussed, but he pushed several times more in his eagerness to finish. Rudolph remarked with sarcasm: “Don't let me disturb you.” Father now jumped up. Pale and panting hard, he stood before Rudolph. Rudolph eyed him sharply. I remained on the bed, not knowing what to do. “Let us cover the girl first,” said Rudolph, pulling down my chemise. Seeing my naked titties, he threw a pillow over them; “Allow me-seeing naked breasts always disturbs me.” Father could not utter a word. Rudolph turned to him and said: “Well, neighbor, what have you been doing to your daughter?” “Mr. Rudolph, you surely do not want to ruin me?”

Rudolph laughed: “Why should I? It is nobody's business if you choose to poke your own daughter. You made her, didn't you?” “Mr. Rudolph!” stuttered father. “I am a widower. I have no more. I can't sweat it out of my hide!”]Well, well, that is all right!”

“Mr. Rudolph, do you give me your holy oath that you will not betray me?” “I could not think of it!” he called, “I will not swear to anything. But I think that we can work something out. I am leaving for a little stroll now. But, when I return, we'll talk it over.” Father whispered to me: “If he reports me, the scoundrel-I'll kill him!” I felt the same way about this matter.