I pull her behind a fence into what must be a lumberyard. She stands solidly against me, holds her dress around her ass and lets me fondle her bush. She’s so hot that her cunt has wetted her legs farther down than I’m interested in feeling
… her cunt opens against my fingers and she takes John Thursday out.
There’s a pile of boards to lie on. They’re rough and damp, and she’ll probably spend the rest of the night picking splinters out of her ass, but none of that matters … she wants to be fucked, and she’d lie on a bed of nails if she had to.
With her legs spread she hooks her high heels into a crack and raises herself while she tucks her dress around her middle.
“Monsieur … Monsieur,” she sighs. You’ll never know, you wonderful bitch, how grateful I am for this night …
I dig John Thursday into her whiskers. He hadn’t a brain in his bald head, but left alone he can fend for himself. He can manage somehow. He slips through her bush and butts her rectum.
She has a flood coming down from her tail, this whore. There’s no stopping it
… you could stuff towels, blankets, mattresses between her legs, and it would still pour down to engulf you. I feel like the little boy who had to stop the break in the dike and had nothing but his finger. But I’ll plug it, I’ll fill it with my dong… .
What was it like? That’s what she wants to know, that’s what she keeps asking me. She can’t forget that hairless cuntless cuntlet even when my cock is nudging into the very gates. The way it stretched and closed over my prick stays in her mind, she says. That little bare body slipping against me … ah, if I could have seen how it looked to someone else! But what was it like?
And when the dirty little puppy held my dong in her mouth, that painted baby mouth, and sucked it, what did I feel then? Oh, such a wicked, wicked little girl she is, that one, to even know such things exist! And so on. But won’t I just lift a bit, at her hips, to make it easier for Jean Jeudi to slip into his stable… .
Monsieur!
An army has marched through her legs … an army uncounted and nameless and half forgotten. But she’ll remember this night. It’s an event in her life when she gives it away for nothing, that won’t be forgotten so easily. I push my cock into her ripe fig and she pulls at my coat to keep me down and close to her. She’s not a whore now … she’s only a cunt with an ache that must be rubbed away …
The ache won’t remain long. I’ll fuck it out, fuck out the memories too of those others who had you. Who were you with tonight? Who screwed you? Does it matter and can you remember even now? In a day or a week they will have marched on to join those others who have come before. But I will remain, you won’t pass this one by so easily … my cock is in you, and there it will stay, even after I am gone. I will leave something that you will never forget, I will give you a little parcel of joy, fill your womb with a heat that will not cool … You lay beneath me with your thighs strained apart to receive it, and your whore’s mouth whispers words you have said a thousand times before to a thousand men. But that doesn’t matter. Before me there were no men, and after me there will be none. It is not your fault if you have no unused phrase for what you feel … it is enough that you feel …
I club her thighs with my dong, taking it out of her and pushing it into the soft wound again and again, taking her anew time after time. They have left her ravaged and open, easy to take and easy to fuck, all those others. But I fill her, she knows she’s being fucked this time. She pulls her dress away from her shoulders again and offers me her teats. I rub my face against them, sucking and biting.
I grab her ass in both hands and crush the meat while I slip my cock toward her womb. If it hurts her, neither of us know or think about it. My balls lay in a hot pocket, a hairy nest under her tail. The boards rattle under us like the jangling bones of a skeleton.
Jism gushes out of my dong as freely as water out of a hose. The whore suddenly puts her legs around me and holds me tightly … she’s afraid that I’ll stop and she hasn’t come yet. But I fuck her for a full minute longer, coming into her womb even after the fire in her has been quenched and her legs fall to my sides again …
The whore lies sprawling on the pile of lumber after it’s over. She doesn’t try to cover herself … she acts as though she had forgotten where she was, and she seems to be completely fucked out and contented. But I’m afraid that she’ll remember and try to wheedle her few francs out of me, want me to buy her a drink, pay for a taxi, tell me of her ailing mother … I take the first bill I find in my pockets, wipe my cock on it, and lay it crumpled on her bare belly weighted with a coin.
The streets receive me, as bleak and foreign as before… .
Tania’s letters will find me, no matter where I go. Two arrive, one in the morning and the other by late post. She is lonely! … .
… . . think I will go crazy if I have to go another night without a fucking by you. I keep thinking about that big prick and all the wonderful things it does, and I would give anything I own if I could just feel it again, and take it in my hand. I even dream about it! It isn’t enough to have Peter fuck me. Sometimes it is hard to keep from coming to see you, even when I know you would probably be angry with me and not treat me nice.
Don’t you ever think about me and the good times we had together? I hope that you do and that sometimes you wish I were there in bed with you, sucking you off, playing with your cock, and fucking, Mother wishes you were here to fuck her too, I can tell because she talks about you so much. She is always asking what we did, just what happened on the times when you fucked me and even what we said! I don’t think she is letting anybody but Peter fuck her now.
She has Peter and me go to bed with her every night and she makes me suck her off a lot. I don’t care, I like to do it, but I wish that you were here so that I would be fucked more often … . .
And so on. “Love from Tania,” closes this letter. The second one is longer.
Tania has discovered a new thrill and, as she writes, I have to tell you about it right away. Isn’t that strange? It’s because I would like to have you do it to me.
Everything that anybody does to me would be better if you were the one who did it to me. I guess that’s because you have such a big cock. When I think of how big your cock is I feel goosepimples come up all over me. And I was even thinking of you part of the time when he was doing it to me!
I was so glad to have a man fuck me again (Mother watches me like a hawk) that I could hardly wait to take the time to undress when we went to his room.
He wanted to lie on the bed so we could play with each other, but I kept getting so hot that I couldn’t stand it, and he had to fuck me. I was acting so crazy that he was afraid I might jump out of the window or something. Oh it was wonderful to feel a man fucking me again. Peter is kept so busy fucking Mother that he isn’t so much good any more, and this was the first time that I have had a good one since you went away. He dragged me all over the room! He had already fucked me twice when he told me that he was going to show me a new trick, but he didn’t have any trouble getting his prick hard. I just let him put it in my mouth and sucked it a tiny bit, and in a minute it was just as good as ever! Then he laid me on the floor on some soft pillows and had me lie on my stomach while he started to fuck me up my ass.
It was wonderful, of course, although it wasn’t as wonderful as when you ram that big cock of yours into me that way, but then I was just a little disappointed because it wasn’t really new after all. Then I suddenly felt something new and strange. At first it felt as though he had come and the jism was going into me, but then it began to
