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

But he was not drunk enough for my purpose. I slipped from his lap, and shaking my finger in his face exclaimed with mock severity:

" Bad man. Putting his hand on Eedy' s titty! Mustn' t do that. Makes her have naughty feelings!"

I served another drink to Mr. Tucker. His gaze never left me as he drained it, and in his eyes I read the thoughts which filled his intoxicated brain, and knew that in imagination he was already contemplating my naked body, and mentally possessing me.

Again I sat on his knee and as if my accident permitted my hand to brush against the bulky swelling under his trouser leg.

" George! What have you got in your pocket? Why, it feels as though it was alive!"

" Ha, ha, ha!" roared Mr. Tucker. " She wants to know what I' ve got in my pocket, Vernie!"

My husband vouchsafed no comment, but looked on in frozen silence, then suddenly arose, and walked into the dining room. It was not my intention to permit him to escape a single detail, and so, on the pretext of getting more liquor, I followed him.

" Say!" he whispered savagely, seizing me by the arm, " I' ve changed my mind! To hell with George! Let' s get him out of here, before he gets any drunker!"

" Why, Vernon!" I replied tipsily, " Georgie' s an old dear! He' s the best friend we' ve got. I' m going to loosen up with him. Where the hell are we going to get up with a lot of damn prudishness?"

He tried to hold me, but I slipped from his grasp and flitted bacvk to Mr. Tucker. Raising my dress above my knees, I essayed a half drunken dance.

" Vernon says," I declared solemnly, " that you' re the best old scout of a friend he ever had. He says: Treat Georgie nice!"

" Sure, Vernie' s my friend!" agreed Mr. Tucker thickly.

My husband returned and resumed his seat near the door. The moment in which Mr. Tucker would be in a condition suitable to my purpose was not far off. He was now almost drunk enough to be indifferent to my husband' s presence, and my familiarities with him, the exposure of my limbs, which I continually found opportunities to provide, had fire his passions almost to the limit of his endurance.

I placed another record on the gramophone and as the disk began to revolve I pirouetted about the room elevating my dress high enough to expose the bare flesh of my legs above my stockings. Mr. Tucker applauded wildly urging me on. Faster and faster I whirled until my skirt billowed outward and the short, lace edged panties I had on, were visible. I had dressed myself with just such possibilities in mind, and the panties, one of my few remaining pieces of finery, were of French manufacture, made of the sheerest of rose- tinted silk, very short of leg, edged with narrow bands of black lace, and semitransparent.

Mr. Tucker continued to express appreciation loudly. Stopping suddenly in front of him, I exclaimed:

" My skirt' s too tight to dance in. if it wasn' t for that, I' d show you some real dancing!"

" Take it off!" roared Mr. Tucker, rising instantly to the bait.

" Oooooh! That would be naughty!" I answered, opening my eyes widely in shocked disapproval.

" Take it off!" cried Mr. Tucker again, his face fairly glowing with anticipation. Putting his hand in his pocket, he withdrew a five pound note and laid it on the table. " Take it off, and the money' s yours!"

" Oooooh!" I repeated. " Let you see my in my panties? Why, that' s as bad almost as being naked!"

" Be a sport, Eedy!" begged Mr. Tucker, almost beside himself, and a second note was laid beside the first one.

" Well:" I said, doubtfully, " it' s awfully naughty, but if you' ll promise never, never to tell anyone:?"

" Of course we won' t tell!" shouted Mr. Tucker.

I took the money from the table and brazenly slipped it inside my stocking. I was going to need this money very shortly, and felt that I was well entitled to it. Vernon arose from his chair, stepped into the dining room and signaled furiously to me to follow him. I pretended not to see his motions, and he remained standing in the door.

With simulated bashfulness, and encouraged on by the ecstatic Mr. Tucker, I unhooked my dress and drew it off.

He clapped his hands and shouted his appreciation drunkenly, vowing that I was the " cutest little girl" he had ever laid eyes on. With my hand on my hips, I began to weave about, as I had seen girls do in some of the vulgar shows Mr. Tucker had taken us to. My husband stood as though turned to stone till I came near him in one of my evolutions and then he whispered hoarsely:

" Eedy, you' re drunk! You' re making a spectacle of yourself! Put on your clothes! I' ll get George away without hurting his feelings."

Heedless of his admonitions, I continued my writhings and undulations frenziedly applauded by Mr. Tucker, until breathless, I sat down on his accommodating knee. I handed him a glass of liquor which he took with trembling fingers and drained at a single gulp. He appeared to be completely oblivious of my husband' s presence and probably nothing was lacking now to bring the drama to its conclusion but to permit him to follow his own drunken inclinations. He set the glass back on the table and I relaxed loosely in his arms, my hair against his cheek.

His arms tightened around me and I felt one of his hands slipping up under the brassiere which covered my breasts. It closed over one of them, and I lisped reprovingly:

" Bad, bad man! Feeling Eedy' s titties again and making her want to do something naughty!" his other hand was working convulsively with the flesh of my bare thigh. Enboldened by the words, he slipped it inside my panties and for the first time in my life I felt the hand of a man, other than my husband, touching my sexual parts.

" Aaaah!" I breathed, shivering involuntarily.

Vernon was still leaning rigidly against the door. His face was the color of a brick and he looked as though he was suffocating.

Revenge! Revenge for my ruined girlhood, the blasting of my illusions, the months of privation!

I squeezed closer to Mr. Tucker, wriggled and squirmed as though his coarse fingering was causing me the most exquisite pleasure. Sacrificing the last instinct of modesty, subordination the instinctive repulsion I felt for the man, I placed my hand over the bulky swelling in the front of his trousers. It responded to my touch with powerful throbs. However limited Mr. Tucker' s cultural and educational qualifications he was certainly not lacking in physical vigor. Drunk as he was, he ws entirely alive and responsive sexually. Accommodation myself upon his lap in such a position that every movement was visible to my husband, I unbuttoned his pants, put my hand inside and took his thing out. Almost involuntarily I uttered an exclamation of surprise when I saw its dimensions. Nature had endowed him generously indeed, it was fully twice the size of my husband' s and as I had never seen any other man' s but his in its erected state, I was more than startled. Despite the aversion I felt toward the man, the sight and feel of it, as it jumped and throbbed in my fingers, inspired me with a strange feeling of: oh, I don' t know how to express it: a tingling, trembly sensation that went all through me.

I recovered quickly from my momentary confusion and then, in plain sight of my stupefied husband, whose eyes were fixed glaringly upon me, I began to fondle and toy with it. I pulled the white foreskin down until the big, cherry shaped head stuck out nakedly. I tickled it with my finger tips, squeezed it and played with it until some big drops of limpid moisture appeared and rolled down the side. And at the same time I shivered and moaned and pressed my thighs together as if I wanted to do something so bad I could hardly wait.

Mr. Tucker had succeeded in unfastening my brassiere, and had uncovered my breasts. He put his mouth on one of them and while he sucked at the nipple he squeezed and massaged the other one with his hand. And at the same time his other hand was engaged in rough manipulation of my sexual parts. He even stuck his finger up inside as far as it would go, and while I writhed and twisted on his lap he worked it in and out. I stole a surreptitious glance at my husband. He was still standing motionless, frozen.