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

" She didn' t make as much fuss as I thought she would. She' s in the bedroom waiting for you now."

" Are you coming in, too?"

" No," I said regretfully. " She drew the line on that."

" Too bad!" said the fraulein, with a half sympathetic, half cynical smile.

She arose and I conducted her to the bedroom. She opened the door softly, stepped inside, and closed it behind her. I remained in the hall, listening attentively. At first I heard nothing but the subdued tones of the lesbian' s soft voice, answer in almost indistinguishable monosyllables by Edyth. " You' re awfully bashful, aren' t you, darling?: You don' t have to be with me: I' m only another woman just like you: Oh, what perfectly beautiful bubbies: I' ll bet your husband is just crazy about them, isn' t he?: Why, your skin is simply marvelous!: As smooth and white as a baby' s!: and no hair except where it ought to be: Do you know, in my country when a woman' s hair down here is soft and silky instead of crisp, they say it' s a sign of aristocratic blood: Oh, you sweet thing! If you were mine, I' d just love you to death!"

I kneeled down to pear through the keyhole but rose again cursing under my breath. Something was draped over it from the opposite side of the door, and my vision was blocked. Again I pressed my ear to one of the door panels. Through it came the slight sound of rustling garments, the creaking of bedsprings as they ceded to the weight of moving bodies. " Now you lie perfectly still, darling. Let me do everything. Just relax and enjoy yourself!" Then a silence, unbroken except for the barely audible movement of bedsprings.

At last a faint, but expressive and long drawn out " Ooooh!" broke the silence, followed at short intervals by others subdued in tone yet pregnant with emotion.

Something down in the front of my trousers began to hitch itself upward, expanding in size as it did so.

The exclamations continued, and became more audible. The temptation was too much for me, and dropping my hand down on the doorknob I turned it softly exerting a slight pressure at the same time. The knob moved, but the door didn' t. Again I had been outwitted, for Edyth had taken all the necessary precautions to see that I kept my promise, regardless of whether I changed my mind about it or not, and had latched the door.

The music on the other side of the door was now beginning to run uo the chromatic scale in a way which, by experience, indicated the proximity of orgasm. It culminated in a crescendo of vibrant moans and cries, and died away.

Another long silence and then I heard the sound of moving feet on the floor, the murmur of voices – words I couldn' t distinguish. Quickly I straightened up, and returned to the parlor.

A few minutes later the door opened and the lesbian came out. She came alone. Edyth remained in the bedroom. The girl smiled, and nodded her head as though assuring me that all had gone well. She was evidently not disposed to linger, and when she had adjusted her hat over the blond curls I handed her three pound notes.

" Here is my address and phone number in case she wants me again," she whispered, and she slipped a small card in my hand as I opened the door.

Edyth had not reappeared, so I went into the bedroom. A seductive vision met my eyes. She was lying stretched out on the bed with nothing to cover her charms except a short silk vest, which barely reached the upper border of the soft curls which the lesbian had called " aristocratic." The round, tapered legs were extended out languidly, parted just sufficiently to reveal the cleft which divided the two halves of the alter of Venus, faintly visible under the little curls and ringlets of chestnut hair which formed its natural curtain.

She said nothing, nor even attempted to cover her nakedness as I gazed down upon her. I was still tingling with excitement, and needed nothing more inspiring than this vision to stimulate me to quick action. I undressed as quickly as I could, and lay down by her. A second later my mouth was on her cunt, still moist from its recent spendings. She had not uttered a word and had hardly moved except to further separate her legs to better accommodate my caress, but within a few seconds after my tongue found her clitoris, the usual pandemonium was loose. I raised my head in dismay. My first thought was to make her hold a pillow over her face but, even as I reached for one, a better way to quiet her occurred to me.

" Here! Put this in your mouth and let' s see whether it won' t choke off some of that noise!" I exclaimed, and I turned around on the bed in a direction contrary to that in which I had been lying. My cock was now projected before her face, and without hesitation her mouth opened and received it. And while her tongue curled softly around the sensitive gland, my own mouth again attached itself firmly to the humid aperture between her thighs. My tongue penetrated the most recondite depths; it played along the length of the valley and danced in circles around and over the little tit shaped protuberance which raised to meet it and then shrank back coquettishly. Almost unconsciously, my hips were moving forward and backward, my cock sank half its length into her mouth.

Did it stop the noise?

Not exactly, but it did transform it from highly audible shrieks to something of a more subdued nature, a sort of gurgling, gasping, glug- glug- glug, which might possibly be mistaken, if overheard, for the sound of water being drained from the wash basin!

I didn' t try to delay things. As soon as I perceived that she was ready for orgasm, I let go, and as the warm essence from her ovaries baptized my face, her own lips received their spermatic recompense.

When all was finished, she pushed me to one side and leaning over the edge of the bed, spit out a mouthful.

" Part of it went down my throat again!" she gasped, comically.

A few minutes later I murmured in her ear:

" How was it that way, darling?"

" Oh, that was the best of all!" she exclaimed fervently.

" And the girl:?"

" Oh, it was wonderful!"

" Better than with me?"

" No: not better: but:" and she began to laugh hysterically, " the way she did it ws wonderful, and the way you do it is wonderful, too!" was her ambiguous answer.

" Did she do it different from the way I do it?"

" Yes!"

" Different in what way?" I asked, somewhat perplexed.

" Well, she: oh, I can' t tell you!" and she went into another fit of laughter.

While I was pondering over this mystery, her demeanor became serious, and she murmured in a rather preoccupied voice:

" Gilbert: tell me something: am I different in some way form other women?"

" Sure you are, darling! You' re sweeter and nicer and you have prettier titties, and legs, and arms than any other:"

" Oh, Gilbert, you old exaggerator!" she interrupted. " I don' t mean in that way. I mean: down here:" and she motioned toward the juncture of her thighs.

" What makes you ask that, honey?"

" Well: that girl: there was something odd: she kept looking, and feeling: why, you would have thought she was a man, and I was the first woman she ever saw: she acted just like you did the first time you: kind of: oh, I don' t know: as though there was something strange about me. Maybe it was just my imagination."

I knew the answer to this of course, but fearing that, womanlike, she might regard the abnormality as a defect, I changed the conversation and, still curious, endeavored to find out in what way the lesbian' s caresses had differed from my own. But my questioning only evoked more hysterical laughter and the protest that she " couldn' t explain it."

Possibly the fraulein " mounted" her, but on this point neither my curiosity nor yours will ever be satisfied, for just exactly what the girl did to her during those mysterious fifteen minutes they were locked together, I was never able to ascertain.