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

" We got playing up in the hay loft in the barn and I got down and looked at her cunny. Then she wanted t look at mine, and so I let her. Then I told her she had to do it with me. She didn' t want to, but I made her. Now we sneak up there and do it lots."

The girl in question was such a sedate quiet miss that I was astonished and really doubted the truth of the story, but it aroused my lubricity and I asked him if he would get her to do it with me too. He said he would, and his efforts as an " ambassador" of love in my behalf were so successful that an agreement was promptly arrived at. Upon an alter of sweet scented hay, under the dusty rafters of the old barn, the blushing, but willing victim of this libidinous sacrifice to Venus was offered up. Sans panties, and with dress up she permitted me to take my place between her outstretched legs and drain the cup of love while her young brother looked on complacently. When I had finished he quickly took my place, and without undue embarrassment at my presence, inserted his small cigar shaped cock in her and gave her a second work out.

The next day she communicated to me by means of a note surreptitiously slipped into my hand at recess that if I would wait for her after school at a certain place we could " do that again that we did yesterday."

Another little youngster of nine or ten, a veritable Messalina in the budding, conceded her favors to four of us en masse. In the basement of the deserted schoolhouse, to which we gained access through an unlatched window one Saturday afternoon, she stripped off both panties and dress for our edification, and one by one, untroubled by an excess of spectators or hygienic considerations, we took turns in prodding her with our small but rigid little cocks.

According to orthodox theories these little girls were all on the road to inevitable ruin if not already there. Yet to my personal knowledge with respect to several of them, they grew up, married and lived normal and respectable lives. One indeed who had been particularly liberal with her favors – I doubt if there was a boy in the entire neighborhood for whom she hadn' t removed her panties at least once – I met some sixteen years later. At first I failed to recognize in the modest, well- dressed young matron and mother of a beautiful child of two, a former youthful partner in fornication. But something stirred in my and without stopping to think that perhaps she would prefer not to have the past recalled, I asked her if she hadn' t lived in such and such a neighborhood in her childhood. She nodded assent. " Don' t you remember me?" I asked impulsively, repeating my first name. " No, I don' t recall you!" she replied. " Why I-" and then I saw that her cheeks were blazing. Belatedly, my own face burning with the sudden comprehension of my tactless interrogation, I changed the subject.

At thirteen I was growing rapidly, was quite tall and well developed, this also contrary to certain other accepted theories, for according to all authorities on the subject, such excesses as I was indulging in should irrevocably have undermined my health. For in addition to fucking every little girl I could wheedle into removing her panties I also masturbated myself with more or less frequency. One day I ran across an old medical book containing drawings and diagrams of the human form in various stages of revelation. The book intrigued my prurient interest, and while searching it for more illustrations, I came upon a chapter on masturbation which, hastily read, chilled the blood in my veins and sent me flying to the mirror to see how many of the visible signs, so luridly described, were visible in my own countenance. According to this book, boys who practiced the destructive vice were recognizable under a cursory examination. Their eyes were dull and lifeless, the lids discolored and swollen. Their faces were sallow, and even their self- conscious and nervous demeanor was sufficient to betray their guilty secret. All unfortunate boys addicted to this vicious habit were doomed. Insanity, consumption, premature old age were all lurking close at their elbows. A rapid calculation as I rushed to a mirror told me that I had been at it for four years or more, and it was indeed with a sigh of relief that I scrutinized the reflection which gazed back into my anxious eyes. No signs of senile decay were visible. My complexion was clear and rosy, my eyes bright and limpid. And I certainly was not undersized, for my physique was such that I was generally taken to be at least two years older than I really was. A prolonged examination dissipated my fright, but I had received a shock, and thereafter I indulged in masturbation only on special occasions. As the book said nothing about anything disagreeable happening to boys who fucked little girls, I assumed that no evil consequences need be anticipated from this direction.

At fourteen, I was associating with boys several years older than myself, some of whom had had experiences with adult females, some even with prostitutes. In the light of their revelations, my own little adventures seemed insipid and infantile. I learned of mysterious houses where one could go and have his choice from among a number of luscious females on display in the nude. There was a certain section of the city allotted to their special occupancy, whole blocks of buildings devoted to the traffic of commercialized sexual pleasures.

Grown women! It must feel much nicer to do it with an adult woman than with an immature, inexperienced little girl! The thought grew, obsessed me, set my fancy on fire. And still I dared not think of trying to enter one of these palaces of delight, for though I knew where they were located, boys under eighteen were not supposed to be admitted. I could pass for sixteen easy enough, but hardly eighteen.

One of my friends became the envied owner of a packet of pictures of nude women. They were passed from hand to hand. I persuaded the fortunate owner to let me take them home with me overnight. I wanted to enjoy them in private, at leisure, in the seclusion of my room. One by one I examined them with my cock sticking up and threatening to go off by mere force of mental stimulation. What took my eye was the fascinating triangle of curly hair which stood out so prominently on the pubic regions of the models. None of the little girls I had dealings with had hair down there, or at least more than a soft, incipient, almost imperceptible growth. The thick, curly profusion which adorned the sexual regions of the ladies in these pictures held my eyes in fascination. What an exquisite sensation those crisp curls would provoke as they tickled one' s cock and testicles. And their breasts, full, round and luscious, projecting outward like snowy hills! Not a girl I knew had anything to compare with what these pictures revealed.

As I studied them, my hand unconsciously dropped downward over an erected cock which was fairly bristling with fury. And, unable to resist the urge, I jacked myself off with rapid strokes. As orgasm took place several jets of milky fluid spurted outward. My testicles were secreting semen and I now constituted a first- class risk to damsels of twelve and upward who were indiscreet enough to let me squirt that hot starchy looking stuff between their legs. When the last drop had been squeezed out, I sighed, hid the pictures under my mattress, and turned out the light.

I wanted a mature woman, one who had hair around her cunt and big breasts and I wanted her with all the ardor of my being. But there was no woman I dared approach. Then, as unexpectedly as golden haired little Flora had entered my life, Fortune led me, or I might say, actually shoved me, right into circumstances which culminated in the fulfilment of my ambition.

Among my acquaintances was a boy by the name of Gerald. Having interests in common we formed a species of alliance although he was somewhat younger than I. He invited me to his home and thus I came to meet his mother. One look and I was head over heels in love. She was everything imaginable in feminine pulchritude. Around thirty but still conserving a youthful beauty which might well have been the envy of women much younger, small and petite of figure, with a pair of bubbies which projected her blouse out in front in the most amazing manner, she fairly made my mouth water. I could hardly take my eyes off of her during the time I was in the house. She was a widow, Gerald' s father having died years previously. Evidently she had married at a very tender age. It was apparent that Gerald was the pride of her life, and any of Gerald' s friends were treated with royal consideration. My visits became frequent, and I was invariably regaled with cake, mince pie, plum pudding or some other gastric delicacy. But it wasn' t the cake, or the pie, or the pudding which drew me. I came to look, and long, and sigh. Presumably my passion wsa unsuspected, but at times she seemed to be eyeing me with a quizzical, understanding expression on her face.