Anonymous - The altar of VVenus - The Making of a Victorian Rake

Carrying the decanter of liqueur with her she conducted me to the privacy of the sleeping quarters of the apartment.

Placing my faith in the efficacy of my detective friend' s cooperation, I slipped off my clothing, and at her invitation lay down on the bed. No sooner had I done this than she stepped to the window, and closed the Venetian shutters.

" Ah," I thought, " the signal for hubby."

She returned to the side of the bed and slowly unfastened the diaphanous garment which, when removed, revealed a seductive picture. But it was not entirely a nude picture. For in addition to the silk brassierre whose form- sustaining pockets fitted her pretty breasts as though molded over them, and her hose and slippers, she had on another article of apparel of odd construction which fitted like a glove about her hips and thighs. It was something like the abbreviated thighs feminine exhibitional dancers use, which though effective in concealing the most intimate parts of the body leave all else exposed. Enough of this girl' s body was visible to reveal a physical perfection worthy of sincere admiration and, crook or no crook, she presented as pretty a spectacle as ever delighted a masculine eye or excited the envy of feminine one.

Alas, she wsa doomed to wait somewhat longer than she imagined at that moment, for down on the street below, a travel- stained gentleman, in a dusty leather ulster, a small valise in his hand, returning unexpectedly from a long journey, walked right into the arms of a detective who was lounging in the doorway, and was quickly whisked into a waiting cab. He raved, swore, threatened, and pleaded in turn, to no avail. He was not even permitted to use the telephone in the precinct station, despite his last, despairing plea.

Sufficient time had now elapsed to assure me that the gentleman' s detention had been realized without a hitch, and I felt free to make a few moves of my own. My only preoccupation was that she might possibly raise a clamor which would be prejudicial to my plans. But in this moment, as though heavens themselves were in sympathy with me, or actuated by her own reference to rain, the room darkened – and preceded by a sharp gust of wind a torrential deluge began to fall. It clattered and thundered against the sides of the building and the Venetian shutters over the windows and I knew that as long as it lasted any unusual noise in the room would be effectively cloaked from other occupants of the building.

Applying my mouth to the nipple of one of her breasts to distract her attention, I reached down and began to search for the buttons which would release the tight garment, which up to the present had obstructed both my vision and my fingers. But I could not find them nor did I discover just where or how this singular garment was fastened. I tried to slip my hand under it but it was skin tight and resisted my effort.

As she made no motion to assist me and comprehending that she had no intention of doing so I decided to remove it myself without wasting any more time in search of mysteriously concealed hooks or fastenings. Inserting my fingers under the waist band, I got a firm hold and gave a quick, stout jerk. The garment ripped straight down the front.

The results were electrical. In a second' s time she was converted into a scratching, snarling, clawing little wild cat. It was all I could do to prevent her from doing me some actual physical harm before I got her clamped down in a manner which rendered her helpless.

" Cochon!" she gasped, her face livid with rage, " you' ve torn my panties!"

" I couldn' t get them off any other way, sweetness!"

" Let me up!" she hissed.

" What do you want to get up for? Aren' t we going to do something first?"

" I' ve changed my mind! Let me up instantly! I am afraid my husband is coming!"

" But you told me he wasn' t coming until Saturday!"

" I have a presentiment he' s coming today! He may be here any minute!"

" Well, if you' re afraid he may come, let' s hurry up and finish before he gets here!"

Securing her two wrists firmly with one hand, I reached down with the other and pulled away the remnants of the torn panties. So closely had she kept me occupied during the brief struggle that I had not even gotten a glimpse of what the torn garment revealed – but now I glanced downward, and received a surprise.

Her cunt was as devoid of hair as that of a baby. I placed a hand on it, and found that it had been cleanly and neatly shaved within recent hours.

The discovery was interesting for I knew that when Parisian girls keep this particular portion of their anatomy shaved off it means that they are submitting their bodies to a certain caress which hair rather tends to interfere with.

In plain words, somebody is sucking them.

The contact of my hand galvanized her into fresh action and I had all I could do for several minutes to subdue her again. Finally, heaving and panting, half suffocated, she lay still. And a moment later, somewhat to my surprise, the tension of her muscles relaxed, the angry expression disappeared from her face.

" You' re hurting my arms," she murmured plaintively.

Cautiously, alert for some new move, I relaxed my grip slightly.

She snuggled up to me and at the same time extended her hand downward. Her fingers closed about my cock and clasped it firmly. Still suspicious of this sudden change in tactics, but seduced by the contact of her soft hand, I adjusted myself to a more comfortable position by her side and waited developments. The hand on my cock began to move back and forth, and the manipulation set a series of pleasant little thrills darting through my body. Instinctively I hugged her closer. The sensation was so agreeable, that for a moment I forgot her unexpected change in comportment and abandoned myself to the caress. Soon the pleasurable sensations intensified and her hand began to move more swiftly. And, in a flash, I understood what she was up to.

The little fox was attempting to jack me off, hoping to get rid of me in this fashion.

Adroitly, I skipped one of my knees between hers, and then, before she had time to realize what I was doing, I had her legs apart and was on top of her, with the head of my cock right against her cunt.

" Oh!" she exclaimed, when she felt it penetrating her. " Wait! Wait! Don' t make me do it that way! I' m afraid of getting a baby! Take it out! Take it out! I' ll suck it instead!"

The offer was tempting, but remembering her elusiveness, I thought better not to surrender the ground already won. I gave a shove, and the result of the shove was that I found my cock sheathed in positively the tightest little cunt, not presumably virgin, of its entire career.

" Oh!" she gasped. " My husband will kill you for this!"

Curses, threats, epithets, and maledictions poured from her lips in a steady torrent. Indifferent alike to threats and revilements, I worked my cock in and out. This tight constriction was delicious. And the obscene epithets with which she continued to shower me, instead of dampening my ardor, seemed to stimulate it. It was a unique experience. When the exquisite sensations reached maximum of their intensity I stopped moving and let the tension relax. When the equilibrium wsa restored I began again, pushing my cock in and drawing it out with slow measured movements, calculated to prolong the pleasure as long as possible.

Meanwhile, the flow of curses and revilements continued without interruption. But now I began to note something incongruous. She was lifting her bottom slightly to meet my thrusts! And between her revilements and the movements of my cock as it slid in and out of the tight little hole, was a curious synchronism – a rhythmic relation. It brought to my mind the recollection of a funny story I had once heard, about a little boy caught in the act of masturbating himself by a maid who reprimanded him with a lugubrious warning to the effect that he would die if he did that. To which the boy replied, too far along with the business in hand to stop, replied: