“The first time she did that I thought she was a goner,” Ernest declares, “but that’s how she seems to like it … can you see it? Christ, I used to hold a mirror behind her ass just to watch it. You can see the whole machinery with this little cunt, not a hair to hide the facts of life. And you ought to see… .”
Whatever it is that I ought to see, Ernest forgets it. The girl has begun to wiggle, and each time she gives her ass a shake it squeezes his dick in a little further. Ernest wasn’t cheated when they were handing out pricks, either; and it really does begin to look as though the girl might do something to herself that can’t be repaired without some fancy hem-stitching.
Her cuntlet stretches and stretches, until it’s more than twice the size that it ought to be able to reach. But never a squeak out of the little mouse … she shakes her tail and tightens her legs around Ernest like a veteran. When it stops going into her it’s because there isn’t any more … all that she’s left outside of herself … except Ernest … is a mop of hair and a pair of balls.
“Just take a good look at it now, will you, Alf,” Ernest begs me. “Just as a personal favor to me. I want you to take a look at it and then tell me it’s possible.
Christ, I have had bad dreams about it at night, but I can’t leave her alone. Ah, you little bitch, that’s it. Wiggle some more! Jesus, I never had anything that was more like fucking a snake… .”
“What to Jesus are you going to do when you knock her up?” I ask him.
“What was that? What did you say? Knock her up?” Ernest becomes very excited. “Stop shitting me, she’s too young to get knocked up … isn’t she? Hey, what about that, Alf? How young can you knock them up? They have to have hair, don’t they?”
“Like hell they have to have hair. All they have to do is have a hole to put it in, and you can get them in a fine family way. You mean to say you don’t use anything with her?”
“Don’t shit me any more, Alf. Anyway, I’m not the only one that fucks her.
They couldn’t prove anything on me… . could they? Hell, I’d drag the whole neighborhood into court, everybody around here lays her. Look, Alf, you wouldn’t believe it if I pointed out some of the guys she tells me she’s been fucked by.
Even some of the women, honest to Christ! Not whores, either. Just people around here.”
He lies there with his cock shoved into the girl’s tail and argues with me about the possibility of getting her knocked up. But the girl gets tired of hearing us talk… . she wants to be fucked, she says, and if Ernest isn’t going to fuck her the right way she won’t come to see him any more. So he swabs out her figlet a few times and then lets her take a couple that should have knocked her teeth crooked.
“Get this,” he says. “See her ass twitching, sort of? She swears she’s coming when she does that. Do you suppose she really goes? That’s all that happens… .”
He goes to work fucking her again. “But Holy Jesus, when I come in the little bitch… .”
He grabs her ass and half lifts her off the bed. His dong drives in and the bed groans… . or perhaps it’s Ernest. The girl keeps her legs far apart to help him go in as far as he likes, and I imagine that I can see her belly filling out… .
“God, she takes gallons,” Ernest gasps. “Imperial gallons …”
I’m actually shaky on my pegs when it’s over. I’m in worse shape than Ernest, and he doesn’t look exactly like a daisy. The girl passes the whole thing off with innocent nonchalance. She wants to know if I’d like to fuck her now!
“Go ahead, Alf,” Ernest advises me from the bed. “You won’t find anything like it again. But you’ll have to do it on the floor or someplace … I simply can’t move an inch from the spot I’m in …”
I tell the girl that I don’t want to fuck her just now … some other day, perhaps, but she comes over anyway and rubs her baby ass against my knee. If I’ll feel her up a little, she tells me, I’ll want to fuck her.
“They all do after they’ve felt me,” she informs me. “Put your hand between my legs … . you can feel Mr. Ernest’s jism coming out of me now… .”
But I don’t, I insist, I don’t want to screw her, and I don’t care to feel of Mr.
Ernest’s jism. Then would I like to be sucked off? No! Played with, perhaps? Or if there’s anything else I’d like … . she slips between my knees and presses her belly against my cock… I have a real dong on, she can feel that, and she can’t understand why I can have a hard on and not want to screw her. She suddenly asks if I’m a fairy! Or if I haven’t any money, she says she’ll let me do it on credit just this one time.
Just this one time! The French Caution appears early. But even the inducement of credit fails to sway me, so she finally decides that I’m really serious. Well, she says, perhaps some time again… . Mr. Ernest will tell me where I can find her … she’ll expect me… .
Miss Cavendish! A bitch on wheels if I ever saw one. This morning I got a look at her in the altogether as they say. It’s some trouble with the toilet this time …
she can’t make it shut off and it’s driving her out of her mind. Just why it should choose the moment when she is dressing to drive her out of her mind I don’t know … . these things are beyond the scope of normal intelligence. But there’s a noisy toilet and of course I’m the boy who’s picked to do something about it.
It takes about fifteen seconds to lift the top from the thing, loose the float and replace the cover, and in that time Miss Cavendish manages to get out of the few clothes she had on when I came in and strut calmly from her bedroom to meet me as I’m coming out of the bathroom door. Oh, she’s terribly shocked and dreadfully embarrassed, of course. She simply hadn’t dreamed that it was anything which could be fixed up so quickly … she’d expected to be quite safe, running around the house that way … she’s carrying a small, white scarf and she drapes that eloquently in front of her.
That bitch! She stands and fumbles the scarf until she’s sure that I’ve had a complete exposure … teats, belly, cunt … the whole layout. And it’s not had, that I have to admit. Anna, perhaps, has better bubs, but Anna’s an exception, you can’t class the headlights she sports with the accessories that most women carry.
And I note that Miss Cavendish has one of those big, deep navels, the kind that you could keep a horsechestnut in. What I can see of her cunt isn’t a hell of a lot, since she’s standing, but she takes care to keep her thighs apart so that daylight comes through them … . her mop hangs down in a reddish tuft.
She stands on one foot and then the other, giving me the full benefit of all angles, and when I have the complete plan blueprinted she turns slowly … ah, you can be sure it would be slowly! … presents herself in profile, and gives me the full read while she ambles back to the bedroom. And there I stand with a dong on and nothing to do with it.
I’d give my back teeth to fuck that cockteaser! Not because I think that she’d be such an incomparable lay, but because she makes me so fucking mad. I’d like to get my prick into her bush just once, just for the satisfaction of hearing her say a few well chosen words of apology to John Thursday … just to knock her off her high horse, take some of the starch out of her sails, put a spoke in her wheel, and a half dozen other metaphorical phrases which add up to fucking the nonsense out of her.
It’s Arthur who has the wonderful idea. Sid and Arthur and I are in a bar, all just a little bit tight, and Sid has told Arthur the sad story of Miss Cavendish, to which I add my little piece from time to time as the occasion seems to call for it.
Arthur, of course, is certain that we haven’t been very smart about the bitch.
Now if he had her, things would be entirely different. In fact, since we’ve let him in on a good thing, he’ll help to make things different for all of us. The wonderful idea is that we’ll go calling on Miss Cavendish and fuck her. There isn’t the slightest chance that it can’t be done, Arthur says,
