On the Altar of Unchastity

Liane Dasseur was bartered away to Count Armand de Montlhéry right after she graduated from boarding school.

She never referred to it as anything other than bartered away because her parents had tried to halt their slow but steady financial and social decline with this liaison. The father, Pierre Dasseur, had inherited a small brewery in the south of the city and lost it in the course of the general recession — a Dutch brewing concern had driven him first almost to ruin and then to sale. For the Dasseur, who had been brought up as a well‐situated patrician, it was a disaster to be confined to only a city apartment and a small country house on the coast, although the disaster of having to work for the Dutch concern was perhaps even greater. His wife Mélanie, who was fullheartedly devoted to him, would also have followed him into a poor man's hovel, although her thoroughly conservative upbringing desperately resisted her decline under these circumstances.

It was she who brought Liane to the annual New Year's ball held in the castle, and it was she who carefully and deliberately directed the Count's interest to young Liane. After all, the count was the secret string‐puller who proposed Pierre and her for the ceremonial award as Heroes of the Résistance by President de Gaulle. She knew it, of course, and was very proud of her Résistance Medal. She had known the Count since childhood and had helped him in important matters of administration in the chateau, for that she was a good manager she had proved in the brewery. His housekeeper, as well as the other employees, performed their duties faithfully and honestly, but did not possess that certain something of aesthetics, refinement, and lascivious eroticism that the Count appreciated so much in Mélanie. Of course, she was also much prettier than all the others, giving everyone a deep glimpse of her beautiful, plump breasts, which did not look fifty and did not yet need a bra. She carefully tended to her pubic hair, trimming it weekly and cutting out the middle completely radically so that the pubic fold and labia were clearly visible. She also wore no underwear under the airy dresses and skirts since the war, of course, and frivolously offered the Count and many another shameless glimpses of her thighs and, if she wished, her cunt. Her body was flawless and showed curves in the right places without looking chubby, and all could see that.

While flirting, she goaded the count by smiling and letting her thighs slide slightly apart until he could guess her intimates, and she calculatingly let it be known that she was quite open and willing to the count's sexual advances. Quite casually, she dropped the lie that she hadn't fucked Pierre for a long time – she would have deserved an Oscar for the way her eyes looked. Even the deliberate utterance of vulgar words like fuck made the count shiver pleasantly. The count considered it necessary to employ Mélanie formally as an assistant; thus everything had its order and Mélanie was close to the crush of her youth, older by a good 5 years, to whom she had never been allowed to open her heart until now. From the beginning she was stingy with her love services, because she did not want to distract the count from his real goal with a steady affair. She only counteracted his depression and melancholy when she visited him in his bed. So one thing led to another, the count, lonely after the death of his wife, became interested in young Liane, invited her several times to teas and social events.

Not to be left unmentioned is the fact that Mélanie's little hints did more than raise the count's hopes. Whenever they rested after the count's intercourse, Mélanie had one thing or another to tell about Liane. She gently stroked the count's privates while doing so, without entertaining hopes that a second intercourse would occur. When the count took part in the conversation with interest, she rewarded him with his very favorite dessert. She would sit on the nobleman's chest and let him watch her masturbate and orgasm at close range. Sometimes it visibly aroused him so that she slid lower and encircled his count's cock with her labia. With gentle, quiet movements, she rubbed his glans with her labia and only when his breathing revealed that he was about to squirt, she increased her speed, letting him penetrate and squirt in her vagina. With more gentle movements she milked his seed until nothing more came.

Yes, and then the Count asked Mélanie, who was going over the guest list with him for the next banquet, if he could get his hopes up, in his age and his grief‐stricken loneliness. Mélanie's heart leapt for joy, knowing full well that this meant herself. She did not even have to think about it, since her heart and her life belonged to Pierre only. Stretched, she replied that Liane would most certainly say yes, for the girl spoke of nothing else but her count, but she asked nobly reservedly that the count discuss this with Liane's father.

That she would not experience romance with the much older gentleman was clear to Liane from the outset. But it was not only daughter love that moved her to consent. No, there was the thought already strong, as married woman countess highest social acknowledgment and portion of the large fortune of the count to get.

And the count showed her understanding when she opened up to him that she had not remained untouched because of a previous engagement. After all, there was no need to mention the many other loves. Even if her husband was twice her age, he was a loving husband and a good lover. They both knew how important a progenitor was to him and fucked as often as he could. Liane was absolutely faithful to him until the birth of their son, and willingly let him share in her frequent masturbation, as Mélanie had advised her before marriage with accurate hints about his sexuality and preferences.

She didn't mind at all that her mother had fucked the Count and probably continued to do so, because she knew how much Mélanie loved her Pierre and that Mélanie was only concerned with sexual debauchery and power over the Count. She knew that Pierre could take no more and had watched Mélanie masturbate often enough to know that she really needed it badly. As her pregnancy progressed, Liane no longer liked to fuck the count and secretly eavesdropped when her mother fucked her husband or masturbated in front of his face and orgasmed loudly. The voices and lustful sounds from Armand's adjacent bedroom fueled her masturbation fantasies all the more. In later years, it was the count who generously overlooked her taking pleasure from younger lovers.

Liane had studied agriculture and when her son started school, she took over the Count's ailing vineyard and turned it into a lucrative model business, with the proceeds of which she not only supported her parents, but also treated herself to the odd luxury.

Robert

There was cousin Robert, who cleverly used the families' joint vacation to make a pass at Liane. At 14, Liane was mentally far ahead of her peers, but her body was only gradually beginning to become more womanly and rounded. She was rather small and slender, her hips were only now becoming a little rounder and her small breasts were also delicately budding. The shoulder‐length black hair harmonized well with her oval, light face, in which the slanted brown almond eyes testified to oriental ancestry. She did not yet know anything about her sexuality, yet she looked at herself more and more often in the mirror and shivered when she stroked the downy pubic hair that had only begun to sprout in the last few months. She had been waiting for her first period for a year, and remembered her mother saying casually that she would then be a real woman and would no longer be allowed to play with the boys. But the period did not come.

Robert was already 16 or 17, exactly she didn't know it anymore, was powerfully built and towered over her by more than a head, his long curls and the soft, fleshy lips betrayed the pleasure man that he was. He had fallen for the 14‐year‐old girl and was pondering how to get her, for he had recognized her womanly awakening with good instinct – however, decades later, this instinct brought him to trial as a underage girls molester. More and more often they went out for long walks on the beach, because she liked the way the big boy was trying to get her. It was completely new and unfamiliar, the many small attentions and nice gestures confused her only at first. She suddenly felt noticed, interesting and desired, although she could not have expressed the latter so clearly. Step by step Robert came closer to her, first they held hands, then he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Liane got used to his touch, to his smell, to the initially extremely unfamiliar physical closeness. The seducer proceeded very gently and carefully, drawing his hand to her lips while holding her hand or brushing her cheek with his. She did not even come to develop suspicion, because he made everything seem so naturally flowing that she was patiently accustomed to his hand like a calf.

Robert sat patiently with her among the dunes, they gazed silently out to sea and spoke but little. But he did not remain idle, his hand wandered carefully to hers, lightly pulling Liane to him and letting her lean against him. After only a few days, her confusion turned into quiet ardor, flaring up here and there in surprise and causing a tugging, pleasant discomfort in her loins. The first time he kissed her softly and gently on the mouth, she blushed violently. The burning sensation made her turn away, she withdrew her hand from him and looked out to sea. The sea was soothing, eternal, and did not upset her. Robert gave her time, lots of time, before kissing her again on the mouth, longer this time. She felt his carefully probing tongue against her lips.

As sailboats appeared outside, Robert explained to her everything he knew about them. He knew quite a bit about boat shapes, masts, and the different rigs, as well as the large merchant ships that appeared now and then over the horizon. Then, with a glowing face, he began to tell of foreign lands, seas, and cities, as if he himself had been to sea. Liane gazed into the distance and listened to him intently. She had grown up sheltered, but her interest in foreign countries, other people and everything connected with them was very strong. Skillfully Robert wove into his stories that the sailors probably went to the women in every port who did it with them — what did? — Liane thought uncertainly. He noticed Liane's increased attention, of course, although she was looking out to sea with a deadpan face. He did not leave the subject without going into too much detail about the loose customs in the ports, about brothels and prostitutes.

Liane interrupted him. What would the men do if they were on the ships for so long and did not reach the ports with the — she hesitated a moment — women for many weeks?

Robert's instincts told him they were headed in the right direction. And — he played dumb. Stretched, he thought women didn't they have them with them on board, the sailors. Liane swallowed. Some feeling told her that now something important had to come. The pause became almost unbearably long.

Robert was good‐natured, he didn't say anything about the kitchen boys, the Benjamins, and what they were all called – maybe he didn't really know himself. In any case, after a while he grinned and made a definite gesture with his hand, and when Liane looked at him uncomprehendingly, he murmured that they would just do it themselves. Liane again looked strained out to sea, then she said she didn't understand. Her heart was beating excitedly, because she felt very clearly that they were already very close to the important thing.

Robert said nothing, he abruptly dropped the subject and kissed her on the cheek, on the ear and the eyes, then his lips brushed her mouth. She held still and listened inward, feeling that tug in her loins again, plus his tongue playing lightly around her lips. He tongued and jerked forward, seeming to want to open her lips. Then the tongue tongued further and penetrated between her lips, touching her teeth and seeking her tongue. She felt the first touch of their tongues most clearly below, there in her still nameless cleft, inside. She noticed how her face, neck and all over blushed, how the heat rose from her loins and almost took her breath away. Robert's tongue tasted sweetish, she groped for his with her tongue and suddenly remembered that it was called French kissing. She remained outwardly calm, although she could have jumped for joy and delight because a small detail of her ignorance was now clarified. She could have screamed with joy, but she was in love with her first French kiss, in love with Robert's tongue and his lips that she could feel sweet and soft. Robert, oh my Robert, I love you so much! she thought.

Despite this, when their lips parted, she looked to the floor in despair, for she did not know how to continue with Robert. They sat in silence next to each other for a while longer at their place in the dunes; it was a good place to be able to kiss and embrace there in seclusion. Endless minutes passed before they broke away again, only to find each other. Liane enjoyed Robert's gentle hands caressing her back, her shoulders, she enjoyed the tall boy stammering words of love into her ear. When his hands finally moved slowly to her hips, again and again, she reached in and pulled his hand away as if it made her uncomfortable. In reality, she was a little disturbed because his hands were creating a storm in her body, she kept blushing and feeling heat and strange tingling in body parts that she had never known before.

Ah, his hands! How she would have loved to just abandon herself to them, to let Robert caress her all over, and yet she shied away from it. From some hidden, dark corner of her soul, the memory of prohibitions rose up, became pressing and annoying. She shooed away these thoughts, however often they came back. She loved Robert, after all, and that lovers embrace and kiss each other was simply known! So it seemed right to her, so she shooed away the dark thoughts.

They lay with their backs leaning against a place where a stubborn bush braced itself against wind and weather and in whose roots hard‐pressed sand offered them a good backrest. Robert, who already knew this place from the past, only had to look around now and then to see if a lonely walker or a couple in search of a cozy spot had passed by unawares. They were alone, they kissed for minutes and slowly Robert's hand wandered from her shoulder to her small bosom. Liane stiffened in shock at first, but then relaxed, that was part of love, he said, and gently stroked the tiny little mound. His hand wandered further, seeking a way under her t–shirt and boldly embracing her bosom, since she was not yet wearing a bra.

Liane suddenly felt more grown up, being a child suddenly seemed so distant and foreign to her. She was now like those movie actresses she had seen on the posters and secretly admired – the hero kissed the heroine and held her tightly in his big, strong arms. Yes, there were also posters where the hero's hand unintentionally — unintentionally? — approached the breast or the hip of the beauty. Liane continued to dream about the posters and now did not prevent Robert from touching her breast. His kisses stunned her, her fantasies about the movie posters as well, and Robert fondled gently her breasts. At some point in this situation he pushed up her bodice, pulling her t–shirt over her head despite her initial protest. Her resistance subsided, she closed her eyes and let him have his way, abandoning herself to his gentle hands. He stroked her for a long time, until she was completely comfortable, then he stroked her hips, her thighs and her hips again. He kissed her very gently and for a long time, before he half sat up and tampered with her short summer pants – fierce, then only very slight protest on her part, slowly and carefully he pulled them down over her thighs, over her legs. Liane's heart almost stopped, but Robert kissed and caressed her again so sweetly and so tenderly that her cramping subsided. He still has his bathing suit on, Liane thought, and closed her eyes as he pulled her to him. Only a blink of an eye later she realized that he had also taken off his swimming trunks and was just as naked as she was.

The touch of the bare skin of their bodies electrified her at first, but then she began to love it. Yes, she totally relaxed and leaned way back after that, let his hands and lips caress, kiss, touch her all over! She breathed that she wanted to be caressed and Robert touched her tenderly on the breast, stroked her belly with a finger and kissed her belly button. His hand remained steady on one of her thighs. She feared he would touch her there, but he did nothing of the sort; indeed, he seemed to leave the spot out deliberately.

Liane sat up abruptly. She held a hand in front of her small breasts, but Robert embraced her and whispered in her ear that she need not be embarrassed in front of him. Then the loving bodies separated, Robert lit a cigarette and smoked hastily. Liane's thoughts raced, for she felt all at once far too young again to be already in love, and yet she already was. When she looked at Robert from the side, he seemed like a hero from her posters. He was just swell, a great hero, a really handsome man. And he was so grown up, could find an answer to everything, and was no longer the little, cheeky boy who tore at her braids just years ago. And suddenly she remembered the sailors again.

Robert needed a few seconds to classify her question, what the sailors themselves were doing. Oh that, he said throwing away and not looking at her. Liane asked again, but Robert put his arm around her shoulders and remained silent. They leaned back again, into the soft sand beneath the stubborn bush and embraced, kissing. Liane risked a first glance at Robert's nakedness.

Of course, she and her friends had already looked at the shameless pictures in their parents' art print volumes, the Rembrandts and Tizians, the Giottos and Vermeers. The fat naked women and the men, most of whom coyly wore a fig leaf down there. But some – and Michelangelo's David was not the only one – had a little cock depicted, so that the girls looked and giggled and looked again. They discussed much and cleverly about these cocks, knew after all already almost everything, but they had all seen none yet.

Liane's first thought when she saw Robert's cock was that it was ugly. But the longer she looked, the more the heat slowly crept from below into her belly, her heart beat loud and hammering, and her thoughts turned to Robert, whom she loved so much after all. But Robert's cock was not such a tiny thing as pictured in the art print books. His cock was long and thick, and in front, through an opening in his skin, the red inside peeked out like a mushroom bulb. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his scrotum resting limply on one thigh. But then her gaze slid back to his cock. How big it was! And it seemed stiff and hard, standing forward like a lance. Liane suddenly thought of the loose talk that went on in her girls' club: just let him stick it in, in – out and be done with it. And it was so great, said one of the girls, who had to know, her father was a teacher and had enlightened her scientifically and otherwise.

No, she would never let this thing stick into her, it was much too big! She had already looked at herself curiously in the mirror and was sure that this would never fit into her. Her panic increased when Robert put his hand over his cock and grinned at her because he had obviously noticed her looks. She sat up and quickly looked away. Her thoughts flew through her head like little confused birds – she felt unsafe and lonely.

She did not answer when Robert asked if she had already seen a man naked. Robert waited a few moments and told her to look, he didn't mind. She shook her head vigorously and then did look. Robert pointed with one finger, that was the shaft, that the foreskin and that – he casually pulled back the foreskin – that was the glans through which the semen came out of that hole. Liane quickly grasped the harmony of theory and practice. Robert did not mention his testicles, she noted in wonder, but then she suspected that he did not care. She turned back to the sea; the sea was soothing, eternal, and did not upset her.

After a while she risked a sideways glance and was surprised to find that Robert's cock had gone limp in the meantime, perhaps a little smaller than before, and the glans had disappeared completely under the foreskin again, which now looked like the frayed end of a paper bag. As they looked into each other's eyes, Robert embraced her gently and tenderly. His kisses were long and persistent, the heat in her womb flaring hotly. Their bodies touched, she closed her eyes and tried to feel his cock with her skin. He touched her thigh, and that thigh noted in wonder that the longer they kissed, the stronger, firmer, harder his cock became again. For minutes she felt the pressure with her thigh, felt abundantly clear that there was life there, pulsating life.

The cock was plump and stiff again, perky and red, the glans sticking out in front. Like a peach, she thought, never, never will this one go in with me. But she scolded herself at this thought, because again vague prohibitions emerged from the darkness of her soul. Only the adults who are married do that, then they also have children – for a moment she held her breath, for the children had to come out of there then, too – she looked out to sea again to put a stop to the thoughts. It was all far too confusing.

Robert embraced her and pulled her next to him, his kisses becoming fierce and demanding, confusing her completely.

His strong cock stung firmly against her abdomen again. Every time she felt that cock against her skin, an oppressive feeling crept over her, and she pushed it aside all too quickly. She loved him, this Robert with the dark curls, she loved him with all her heart and she loved his cock too. At this thought she had to smile, because only a short time ago it seemed ugly to her and now she loved it. She smiled and kissed Robert just as hard and demanding as he had kissed her earlier. Robert's breath quickened, gradually his hand slid down, to his cock. Liane held her breath as Robert rubbed his cock, slowly at first, then faster and faster, she felt his violent movements against her belly. She took a bruised breath, for he stopped kissing and buried his face against her shoulder, in her hair.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his arm moving quickly, felt his rapid movements in irritation. Robert's fist shook firmly up and down, making the red swollen glans between his thumb and fingers pop out again and again. He pressed his hard against her pubic, she listened curiously inside herself and felt it tingling and then also somehow fine as he tapped his glans violently against her pubic. She was suddenly in an inexplicable panic mood, backing away and looking down. Liane watched excitedly and the sailors suddenly came to her mind as she looked into Robert's tense face. His hand was racing up and down, the glans sticking stiffly and steeply out of his fist. He turned fully toward her and wrenched his eyes open, desperately trying to push his cock through her tightly closed legs to touch her there, and finally managed it. So this is how love goes, she thought, feeling a deep sense of relief because this was somehow pleasurable, this throbbing glans on her labia. She still pressed her legs tightly together, but cautiously and still somewhat anxiously, her pelvis felt its way forward to feel his rhythm with her sensitive spot. Robert sighed deeply, pressed himself firmly against her abdomen and made a few quick fucking movements between her thighs with his cock. Instantly his thick, whitish juice squirted out, warm and slippery it splashed over her labia and — as she jerked back startled — over her inner thighs. Robert stared mesmerized at her cleft, rubbing his hand slowly further, squirting it all onto the sparse fuzz of hair that inadequately hid her pubic area. He squeezed the last of the juice out of the glans with two fingers, then sighed deeply and fell backwards, closing his eyes and lying there breathing heavily.

Liane sat up and looked at her thigh, over which the whitish juice trailed down to her pubic hair. The wetness on her labia felt strange as she reached down with a finger. She looked up at Robert, whose breathing was slowly calming down again. Their eyes met, they both looked sideways almost simultaneously, for they both felt embarrassed by the situation for different reasons. Out of an inner impulse, Liane murmured that it was probably the sailor thing to do when they did it themselves. Robert nodded imperceptibly, then it was silent again for a long time.

Robert asked persistently what she was thinking about. She answered him only after a long time. It was all new to her and she had to get used to it all first, she said vaguely and remained silent. It was a long time before he sat up and embraced her. Soon his tender kisses turned into wild, loving wrestling and courtship. She felt comfortable in his arms, his hands caressing her breasts, finding their way over her belly and touching the light fuzz of hair on her pubis for the first time. She winced inwardly, for no one had ever touched her pubic area before. Robert, however, was absorbed in himself and groped, stroked the cleft and she felt an extremely irritating tingling in her belly. She let him and enjoyed this tingling until his fingers wanted to enter the cleft. Now she defensively grabbed his hand and pulled it away. Robert's kisses and the play of his tongue in her mouth became quite wild and intense, Robert's hand ventured forward again and stroked, caressed and palpated her down there.

For a long time she was still tense inside, but the tingling did its job, she relaxed and let him this time for a long time, because it did good and the tingling too. Even when he sat up and opened her thighs a little with his hand, she let him. Robert looked at her down, touched her gently and felt the labia. That feels so good, she whispered in her strange state, it tingles so fine! And Robert's fingers moved rhythmically on her labia, the little pink bulges that grew fuller and fuller with the irritation. Robert had no concept of female masturbation at all, but as he gently rubbed her labia up and down like his cock, it excited Liane greatly. He continued to rub her gently and she almost lost her footing, but she let him continue, for what seemed like an eternity. The tingling sensation became so strong all at once that her heart began to pound like mad.

She sat up abruptly and hugged him. She was so happy with the love she had for him and now he had touched her as delicately as no one before him. Soon they merged again in a heartfelt kiss, then lay next to each other, tightly embraced. At some point Liane sat up and looked out to sea. So much had happened today that it completely confused her. She felt both as a little ignorant girl and at the same time as a young woman who was beginning to discover sexuality. Robert was sensitive enough to sit up now as well, to put an arm around her shoulders and to be silent together with her. For this silence she was infinitely grateful to him. When it was time, almost without words, they got up, got dressed, and went home in silence.

Liane lay awake late at night, still feeling Robert's caressing hands on her skin. She touched her breasts and gently stroked her belly, feeling for the fuzz on her pubic area and thinking of Robert with a pounding heart as she touched her labia with her fingertips. She had always liked to stroke herself there, but she hardly knew this region of her body and didn't know much more about it than that the light stroking quickly made it pleasantly moist and that the gentle, rhythmic squeezing was wonderful, but also caused such strong palpitations that one had to stop. She stroked and squeezed her pubic area until she slept away.

The next day she was in a bad mood and had a headache, Robert left without telling her and she cried into her pillow. Her confusion was great and the ups and downs of her emotions almost suffocated her. She stayed in bed all day, caressing her breasts and belly, gently stroking down there and crying again, for this attempt to feel his hands, his wonderful hands, or the lightly prodding squeeze of his glans down there, melting away completely, failed utterly. It was quite different, it was quite different deep inside her when he stroked her. She stroked the cleft again and again with her fingertips until her heart was beating like mad, then she cried and waited for the heart to calm down. She thought of Robert and his movements, letting the fingertips dance rapidly back and forth on the labia, but the racing heart she got from it made her stop abruptly each time. She put her fingers around her labia and moved them the way Robert had done, trying to imitate his masturbation until she had to stop from the pounding of her heart and the feeling of exploding in her abdomen. She dreamed of Robert and tried masturbating over and over again, but she had to keep stopping. When it got dark outside, Liane was terribly lonely and disappointed because even after a hundred attempts she had not succeeded in getting that beautiful feeling like with Robert. She cried for a long time until she eventually dozed off to sleep.

She could hardly wait for Robert to come back to pick her up the other day. Her parents were sitting on the porch reading as usual, her father the newspaper and her mother a romance novel, but she had dozed off in the sweltering morning heat and the book was threatening to slip from her fingers. Liane paid no attention to it, impatient and fidgeting with excitement, she walked around completely aimlessly and in her heart a little bird chirped and fidgeted when Robert appeared. She quickly ran to him and felt light and tipsy as they walked together to their place in the dunes. Her heart overflowed with love and she chattered and chattered so that Robert looked at her in wonder from the side. She heard herself telling how she had lain awake at night thinking of him and his hands, how she had tried to imagine his making himself and getting that wonderful feeling back in the process, and that she had not succeeded. She bit her lips hard afterwards, for she was embarrassed to be babbling so carelessly about these intimate feelings and thoughts. But Robert beamed all over his face and smiled kindly, holding her hand tightly in his and squeezing it approvingly. Liane took a breath, for he seemed to understand her stammering. She leaned against him and hugged him gratefully. The rest of the way they walked side by side in silence, looking at each other here and there, smiling and knowing and — as far as Liane was concerned — full of anticipation.

On arriving at their place, they kissed long and intimately before undressing each other. It was hard for Liane to look as she pulled Robert's pants down over his knees and legs, then laid them beside him. The cock magically attracted her eyes, whether she wanted it to or not. Robert took her in his arms, lay down beside her and kissed her for a long time. Long enough that she felt again how the cock gradually hardened. The touch of bare skin seemed electrifying to her again today, she had almost gotten used to it and felt again that incredibly beautiful sense of well‐being that Robert's embrace, his kisses and his caressing hands evoked. She craved something and pressed her pelvis against his, against his hard cock.

It was getting to noon, a tourist ship slowly lurched across the bay and disappeared behind a headland. Liane sat up, folded her hands over her knees and rested her head on her hands. It was so beautiful, the sea glowed a rich blue and Robert lay smiling next to her on the blanket. He would give a fortune to know what she was thinking now, Robert said. Liane remained persistently silent. Robert grumbled and said he felt lonely and abandoned. Hesitantly she murmured how it was the day before yesterday, whether it was that, the one with the sailors. Robert blinked at first until he could place the sailors and nodded, yes, that was the male masturbation. That was the semen that pushed out impetuously. All the boys and also the sailors did that, until later one had a woman with whom one slept, then one injected the semen into the vagina. Slowly and haltingly they got to talking. Robert knew a few things, so he tried to answer her questions. Yes, one would do that whenever one felt the urge – alone, of course, except the day before yesterday. Liane nodded. And so she learned that he did it very often, every day at least two or three times. Yes, he said, the other boys did it too, it was quite normal. He was silent longer when she asked how it was with the girls; no, he had read about it, but he didn't know how they did it. His answer was very terse and choppy, because Robert knew almost everything and didn't like to admit that he didn't know something. Maybe girls didn't need to, he guessed, they didn't have semen pushing out so vehemently.

Long silence again, they looked out to sea and watched the seagulls fighting over a carrion with loud cries. Liane felt very close to him, leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered that whenever he needed it, he could do it, it was all right with her and — she faltered and thought about how she could say it — and she felt it was somehow beautiful, even if she had been a bit frightened and winced a bit the first time. Now she knew roughly how it went and it was totally fine with her. She got very nice feelings from it, she added after a pause so quietly that he almost couldn't hear it. Robert said nothing, but his heart was beating wildly. He embraced her and kissed her on the mouth as he gently slid her back and lay down beside her. Liane's head rested on his arm, half and half he lay on top of her and touched her breasts, his hand slid further and reached her hip and stomach. She felt the hard thrusting of his cock against her abdomen. It took a while for Robert to embrace his cock and masturbate. Liane watched it with alert eyes, following his every move. He was panting loudly and rubbing rapidly. Liane could tell exactly that it was time, because he turned all the way to her and pressed his cock against her pussy. Full of the love she felt for him, she no longer pressed her legs together, but opened her thighs a little so that he could more easily reach the fuzz of her pubic hair. Robert made very fast, rhythmic fucking movements and squirted, pressing the glans firmly between her labia as he squirted. She felt a warm, caring love for Robert as she felt his warm seed. After all, he needed it so badly, it relieved him, and after all, she felt very deeply about it, she thought. Robert straightened up and looked down at her pubic as he squirted the last of it on her.

Liane wiped herself clean with a corner of her blanket and looked at Robert lying on his back with his eyes closed, his chest pumping up and down violently. She kissed him gently and stroked the locks of hair from his forehead. That's how much I love him, she thought, I would do anything for him. She lay down next to him and snuggled against him, so they stayed and dozed. At some point she asked him in a whisper if it was good now and he just nodded silently. Then they fell asleep. When she woke up, she looked down at him and noticed that the previously flaccid cock was beginning to change shape again. It grew and grew, soon standing up sideways. She realized how it was pulsing inside him. She kissed Robert softly on the mouth and pulled him half on top of her. Her kisses didn't miss their mark, Robert's cock tightened and stabbed into her belly. She gently stroked his curls and whispered at his ear that he should do it again, that she could see that his cock had become firm again, that his semen was pushing out again. Robert fondled her small round breasts for a while, soon panting hard and reaching down to masturbate. Liane watched his face and his fist with the red glans, instinctively pulling him against her so that he was half on top of her. She relaxed her thighs and felt his glans touching her labia with his fist rubbing wildly. Robert gasped and rubbed doggedly, she embraced him even more lovingly and felt her labia part slightly and embrace his wildly bouncing glans. Robert hugged her, made some quick movements with his hips and immediately had to squirt. She felt the warmth somehow inside her and almost went over with love for him, little tears filling the corners of her eyes. She clearly felt the twitching and wild squirting down there. Oh Robert, my Robert!

He lay beside her completely exhausted, the afternoon sun shone mercilessly on their naked bodies. Tomorrow she would have a bad sunburn, Liane thought, but then she smiled, because love filled her soul comfortably. When Robert awoke from his doze after perhaps half an hour, he propped himself up with one arm and caressed her. She fervently hoped he would again arouse her with his fingers and lay so that her pubic area was invitingly open and ready for his caresses. Robert touched her, stroked her, and also again made his masturbatory movements with his fingers on her pubic ridges. But he seemed to be elsewhere with his thoughts, she could tell by his unfocused hand movements. Make me happy, she whispered, feeling ashamed of it for a brief moment, for she had read that phrase somewhere in one of her mother's romance novels. She closed her eyes as Robert paid more attention to her now and she could feel the tingling strongly and intensely in her abdomen.

She gave a soft yelp as Robert's fingers grew faster and faster and she felt the arousal in her abdomen stronger than ever. It rose hot inside her, she felt the blush at the base of her neck and on her face. Her heart was pounding furiously, faster than Robert could stroke her. It was strong, too strong this time. Abruptly she stopped his hand and gasped with exertion. Robert was aroused too, she could see that from the corner of her eye, for he had sat up on his knees and heels and was masturbating. Wildly his eyes rolled as he looked at her nakedness. Her confusion lasted only a split second, then she realized that he was looking right there at her. Oh Robert, my Robert! Lovingly she smiled at him, leaned back lasciviously and opened her thighs a little wider. Obediently, her hand wandered down as he gasped choppily, hesitantly, and with a desperate fluttering bird in her heart, her fingers parted the labia, circled her fingers in the cleft. She felt it obscene in her shy, girlish nakedness to be exposed to his horny gaze, felt somehow wretched and unworthy, for there was something immensely degrading about this opening up and playing with herself at his command so that it would get him horny. Robert, however, masturbated even more obsessively, bending forward, his face in front of her cleft. With a loud gasp, he straightened up and squirted at her, the semen slapping her hips and the cunt.

Exhausted, they lay side by side, hugging and smiling at each other breathlessly. Robert whispered that he just couldn't take it anymore now, and she replied how much she loved him. They continued to hug and kiss until late afternoon, repeating their sex games as often as they felt like it. As they walked slowly home, Liane asked — she had been tossing it back and forth all along, but hadn't found the courage — if she could touch him there tomorrow. Robert, the little bastard, smiled smugly and pulled a snout: well, one wanted to see if it could perhaps be done.... They both laughed heartily, because Robert's comical talent immediately relaxed the situation for Liane, too.

That evening, too, Liane helped her mother prepare dinner, fibbed happily about what she had done with Robert during the day, and thus made her parents happy, for they wanted – you have to hand it to them – a cheerful child and allowed her everything, so that she would also remain so cheerful. When the mother sat down on the veranda with her book after the kitchen work, she took it upon herself to look in on Liane again later.

Liane just couldn't and wouldn't fall asleep right away. She felt herself up and found that she was down there a little wider, a little more open than before. She smiled, for surely that came from Robert's glans. Impatient with longing and desire, she palpated herself, immediately went to work with her fingers, but no matter how many times she restarted, she always got frantic palpitations and stopped. In one of these pauses she discovered the real thing.

Dreamily she played with a finger at the vaginal entrance, avoiding touching the little uvula, which was so sensitive, and just stroking lightly up from underneath – oh, how that felt good! She was now stroking more and more the lovely spot just below the uvula and the tingling was now fierce, different and so blissfully good. Her heart was pounding, but not frantically. Liane went on and on and all at once she exploded from the inside, convulsing again the next moment and gasping loudly. Gasping and blissfully horrified, she lay there.

What was that just now?

When she had recovered, she smiled and tears rolled down her cheeks — silly me, she said to herself, that's it! So that's it, that's exactly it! Liane's tears dried up and gave way to blissful smiles as she groped again for the new spot and soon lust and horniness and slippery wetness emerged from her reverie. She tried to repeat her new discovery and was so busy with herself that she didn't notice that her mother wanted to check on her — the mother remained rooted to the spot in the next room when she caught sight of her completely naked daughter through the open door, violently masturbating with her legs spread wide.

.

Finally

Liane couldn't have told later how many times she did it that night – in any case, morning was already dawning outside when she fell asleep thinking about telling Robert right away.

But the next day Robert received her with the reminder that she wanted to try it once with him. Liane silently corrected him, saying she had only wanted to touch him, but she said nothing, nor did she tell him about what a secret she had discovered. Robert was so cheerful and enterprising that she almost didn't get a word in edgewise. He explained all the details of what she was to do and how, and of course what she was not to do under any circumstances. Even before they arrived at their place, Liane knew everything and then, in her confusion, forgot most of it. Above all, she didn't know then that a man who sees his next orgasm within reach in front of him can't think of anything else, certainly not the needs of his partner.

In short, Robert almost flew with Liane to their regular place, seconds later they were lying undressed next to each other and Liane felt overwhelmed from the first moment. Robert's impatience spoiled everything. Liane tried to lift her spirits with patient caresses, letting her hands glide gently over his body and caressing his lips with her tongue. But Robert was already far, far ahead with his fantasy, taking her hand and placing it firmly on his cock. Liane was surprised by the softness of his skin, but now the given mechanics took all her concentration. Carefully and gently she rubbed it and felt the life in it awakening, becoming stiffer and harder. Robert gave whispered instructions and Liane followed as best she could. She half sat up and supported herself with one hand, because that way she had a better grip on everything. She looked at his cock in her hand and rubbed it proficiently. When he spurted out Now, now! she rubbed quite firmly and was still surprised by the spurting, although she was prepared for it. She held him gently in her hand and let his semen squirt out, also obediently made some milking movements to squeeze everything out of the glans. Then she let go of the cock and looked into Robert's loosened, satisfied face. She wiped her hand clean with the blanket and lay down next to him. The whole procedure had taken only a few minutes and was actually unspectacular, she thought with slight resignation. Then she closed her eyes and listened for Robert's heartbeat, for his slowing breaths. Robert whispered after a few moments that she had done a great job and was a real natural. She was pleased with the praise and snuggled even closer to him, she loved him so much after all.

Now would be a good time to tell him about her new discovery, but something prevented her from doing so. Although they lay together for a long time, Robert made no move to caress her as well. Only when she nudged him a little with her body, reminding him that there was someone else besides him, did he embrace her and caress her breasts. But it was not the same Robert as usual. His hands touched her mechanically, the playful, curious, demanding was missing. His fingers slid over her pubis, teasing the labia majora with his fingers, but she didn't feel the same as she had yesterday. Liane was completely tense and felt something like anger rising inside her. She sat up abruptly and murmured, Oh, leave it, then her eyes slid over the sea and she wept silently without Robert noticing.

As always, they busied themselves with sex throughout the day. Robert wanted it from her with his hand every time, and she obeyed – she loved this guy, after all! But her own needs came far too short. She didn't dare demand anything from him, but she snuggled up to him tightly and urgently, reminding him that she wanted something too. Robert's moods went up and down that day, sometimes showering her with tenderness and kisses, sometimes seeming almost absent. In the tender phase he immediately understood when she offered him her slightly opened thighs, slid over and played with her labia, imitating his onanism with them. But he couldn't arouse her anymore, or maybe he didn't want to?

Never the less, as Liane lay in bed that evening, touching herself, she found the spot again, the mother down in the rocking chair looked up briefly from her book and smiled; she thought she knew the reason for the mirth. She smiled again before delving back into her book, for the girl's glee in her lustful solitude could well be heard, but her father lay on the swing with his eyes closed, listening to his favorite music through headphones, and Liane masturbated halfway through the night.

The other day, when the same games, the same feeling of not being there repeated itself, Liane became very sad – her love for Robert was so painful, sacrificial and selfless. She made it so sweet and so fine with Robert's hand that he actually blinked one eye and clicked his tongue when he said she had become a champion – the fool never thought for a moment how much she longed for a little more love. And as soon as Robert wanted again, she dutifully took his cock in her hand and made it so nice and so tender that Robert thought he was in seventh heaven. She watched very closely when she pulled his foreskin back completely before squirting and his glans danced plumply filled. Then a drop appeared in the hole on the tip of the glans and the rhythmic, joyful squirting began. She looked at Robert lovingly, almost lovingly, and at certain moments also felt a certain power that her hand had over him and his cock. She varied her hand play to explore his reactions, hugging him by the nape of the neck while letting her other hand dance on his peach. She gazed into his face and eyes as the warm seed ran over her fingers and cooled. That afternoon she learned almost everything that makes a good handjob, but in her heart she was not happy, for she lacked warmth and security. Saddened, Liane hung her head as they trotted home and Robert delivered a grand monologue on some subject. Her mother noticed with a critical eye that something was troubling Liane, but when, after dinner and bedtime, soft noises and suppressed gasps again betrayed Liane's secret desire, she smiled and shooed away the troubled thoughts. Liane felt immensely beautiful pleasure when masturbating; how stupid she had been all these years, experimenting and trying without getting to that brilliant point – she wondered why not? But late at night, before she exhaustedly rocked her sex to sleep, she took it upon herself to finally tell Robert everything.

He was taken aback and wanted to see it right away. Liane regretted her communicativeness almost immediately, for she initially felt as inhibited as if she were supposed to audition for the violin on the school stage. It seemed so shameless to her that she was lying across from Robert with her thighs open, exposing her cunt to his horny gaze like an open fruit. She closed her eyes and took plenty of time to gently tease the genial spot with her fingers, but soon the tingling rose to blissful hot pleasure in her abdomen. After that she was filled with a kind of absence and indifference – she didn't care that Robert sat closer to see everything even more closely. She increased her pace until she climaxed, then tensed up, pressed her fingers firmly on her pubis, and let the pleasure roll out of her pelvis from below, panting and gasping for breath. When she opened her eyes, happy and relaxed, she saw Robert still kneeling in front of her in amazement, both eyes fixed on her reddened pussy. They looked into each other's eyes and embraced, holding each other tightly for minutes.

Robert still had a huge boner from watching. He thought about masturbating, but Liane immediately pulled him to her by the hips so he could press his glans against her pubic. She loved the recently discovered game when he pressed his glans pumping and thrusting between her labia, and Robert immediately understood what she wanted. Soft and tender, she lay in front of him, her legs pulled up to her sides, awaiting him. He lay on top of her and embraced her tenderly, then thrust his glans forward, into her pubic fold, still wet and slippery from masturbation. How hard he thrust, how impatient he was already! She felt the thrusting and pumping and urging of the fat journeyman, made herself soft and wide and embraced Robert tenderly. He thrust and thrust rhythmically, suddenly a jerk, and he was inside her.

All the way inside her.

Liane had no time to wonder, had clung to his back in fright, and never for a moment thought of pushing him off her. On the contrary, Robert kept thrusting and thrusting and she opened herself to him completely, feeling the hammering of his cock rhythmically widen her tight vagina and labia, then his seed shot twitching and hot into Liane's womb. She felt it, felt his squirt deep in her hot abdomen, and cheered inwardly without knowing why. Robert sank down on top of her, burying his face against her neck and sobbing softly, slowly his cock slid limply out of her. Like a felled tree, he sank onto the blanket beside her, burying his tear‐stained face in her hair, against her neck.

Liane later recalled her astonishment that it had not hurt at all, although that was exactly what she had feared – earlier, in the raunchy speeches in the girls' circle, there had been talk of the pain the first time, of the blood that flowed, and so on. Now she had felt no pain at all. She felt down and then checked her fingers: no, there was no blood, only this light–transparent, almost milky‐white juice. Robert's semen. She palpated her hole, which she had felt so tight earlier – had it only now become wide enough to receive his thick glans, his firm cock?

They lay side by side in silence for quite a long time. Robert then broke the silence first and asked if she had bled, to which she replied in the negative. Robert was irritated and asked again if that had really been her first time. She nodded, but could not explain to him why she had not bled. The son of a bitch doesn't even ask if it hurt me, she thought, angry with him for a moment. In the silence that followed, she could clearly sense his irritation, his distrust. Fear assailed her like a predator striking unexpectedly from ambush, fear of his disappointment in her failure. She whispered that it had been very nice, she had not imagined it that way, but had always felt fear when she thought about it. Robert said nothing, and his silence seemed icy.

Where they usually spent almost the entire day cuddling and having sex, they now bathed on the beach and ran around playing in the ankle‐deep water, frolicking, probably their play masking the seriousness that this event had brought upon them. Nevertheless, they soon warmed themselves again in the midday sun and began to cuddle, one giving the other, and Robert lay on top of her again, the tall lanky boy on top of the delicate little girl. Slowly and carefully he inserted his cock into her tight vagina, then fucked her. Liane was blissful as his cock stimulated just the spot that mattered, but unfortunately he didn't last long enough to trigger her explosion. She kept quiet and hugged him when he had squirted. They cuddled and fucked again that afternoon, and Liane suddenly became so horny before going home that she was almost ashamed. She stroked him tenderly and promptly for a long time, then lay down enticingly on her back and mewed like a kitten, writhing lasciviously and obscenely on the blanket and whispering almost inaudibly that she wanted to be fucked again. Robert's cock had of course become stiff again, greedily he inserted his cock and pushed her hastily. As willingly as she let herself be fucked, Robert couldn't squirt anymore.

Liane's father noticed nothing at all that evening with his headphones, but her mother smiled quietly and contentedly on the porch when she heard Liane's lustful gasps and her blissful moans. Let the child have her pleasure, she thought contentedly, for she thus lulled herself secure in the estimation that her friendship with Robert was not going too far. Well‐fucked girls don't need to masturbate anymore, she had heard this stupid saying somewhere. But Liane needed it, very urgently even.

The vacations were coming to an end, yet Liane and Robert spent every free minute together, as they had only a few days left. Only briefly the new was in the foreground, they fucked until exhaustion and slept in the breaks so that Robert regained his strength. Liane was saddened by the fact that he quite soon lost all tenderness and gentleness and mounted her full of vehemence and aggression. Where she expected gentleness and tenderness, she got his firm cock stuck in, he rammed wildly and decisively and squirted far too soon, the dear silly fellow. When Robert dozed off, Liane did not dare to masturbate; her shyness was too great. All the more intimately she gave herself over to her lonely lust at night. Robert had pressed his lips together and kept silent when she told him about it. This rejection inhibited her from talking to him about it again. In other ways, too, a barrier seemed to rise between them; their conversations became rarer and shallower, their cuddling likewise. And to her utter disappointment, Robert loved masturbating more than fucking, especially when she masturbated him by hand.

He kept demanding it, and she kept doing it to him with her hand. She loved him, she loved him so hotly and sacrificially that she would have fulfilled his every desire, and if he liked it so much, she would just do it to him with her hand, even though that hardly held any appeal for her anymore. But she loved him, and she loved to give him pleasure and arousal and a certain sense of power when she made him moan and he cheered the squirting. At one point he suggested they both do it at the same time. She loved him and of course wanted to do everything for him, including that, but she couldn't get going while he was kneeling and masturbating. She tried, but when he squirted on her, she stopped. He just grinned and wiped himself off while she lay there ashamed and unsatisfied.

After this failed attempt nothing went right, they stayed only a few hours in the dunes and slept together. It followed the last day, where Liane remained alone, because Robert simply did not come around. He didn't even say goodbye, the bastard.

When Robert and his family had left, Liane was crying in her room. Her mother brought her breakfast in bed, thinking Liane would exhaust herself too much at night. But she was far too inhibited to say it outright, and only stroked her hair gently as she murmured that Liane should not stay in bed all day. That Liane might be lovesick did not occur to her – Robert was, after all, only a cousin. Surely he's not going to screw a fourteen‐year‐old!

Women's Talk

It took a few days for Liane to stop crying and tell her mother everything. Everything. The sailors, Robert's masturbation and that she had learned it. That she had fucked him and that it had not bled at all. Mélanie was horrified, because she had been a virgin until her wedding at 22, and Liane had had her virginity stolen by this good‐for‐nothing at barely 14. Liane continued that they had fucked eight or ten times in the dunes the last few days and Robert liked it much better when she did it to him by hand. And that he was not at all impressed when she told him that she had discovered the secret herself and all by herself.

Mélanie took a second to understand and then casually said, would she show her the secret? Liane didn't even think for a moment and flipped back the covers. Mélanie cringed inwardly at having so casually instigated the indecent, but Liane felt no shame in exposing herself in front of her mother and began to masturbate slowly, then more and more eagerly. Mélanie felt her own arousal rising from her pubic as Liane orgasmed. Liane waited a bit for her breathing to calm down and looked questioningly into her mother's eyes. Mélanie nodded and said that it was fine this way, but it could be done differently. She sat down very close to Liane and first indicated in the air what she meant. When Liane then opened her legs wide again and stretched her pubis willingly and invitingly towards her fingers, Mélanie very gently touched her labia and let her finger circle around the clit. Very gently and lovingly she circled the clit and involved it more and more. She could tell by the gasps and moans how far along Liane was and when the time came, her fingers trilled on Liane's clit until Liane convulsed in a violent orgasm. Liane hugged and kissed her warmly as this technique was much more intense.

Liane often asked her later to do it to her, confessing that it was more beautiful that way and different from doing it alone. Usually, when Liane masturbated, Mélanie was overcome with such irresistible excitement that it caught Liane's eye. She asked Mélanie if she could look at her down there more closely? Mélanie had palpitations and a lump in her throat from lust and could only nod. The 14 year old pulled her mother's negligee over her head – Mélanie, of course, had no panties on as usual – and Mélanie let herself sink back, offering her nakedness, though she almost passed out from embarrassment.

Liane bent over her and curiously palpated her sex, labia, clit, and vaginal entrance, then stretched the labia apart and peered inside her vagina. Carefully, her finger slid into the vagina, feeling it curiously. Then she said they looked very similar down there, because she had looked at her sex with the hand mirror many times before. Only her clit was much smaller than Mélanie's and she felt the clit anew. And it felt much firmer. Mélanie breathed that this was because she was already very sexually aroused. Liane palpated the clit with slowly circling fingers and after a while asked if she could do it to her? Mélanie closed her eyes and did not answer.

The circling fingers excited her even more and Liane wanted to know if she were in her room now, would she do it to herself? It was a long time before Mélanie breathed a yes. The way you do it to me? Liane asked and continued to gyrate. Mélanie kept her eyes closed and left herself to Liane. She circled further and further and included the clit. It took a long time because Mélanie was used to firmer rubbing and Liane, at 14, was doing it for the first time. But she was patient and paid attention to Mélanie's signals. Only when she moaned did she focus on Mélanie's clit and now rubbed very fast and swirling. The orgasm was building from below and Mélanie's body twitched and trembled. Then it was over, Mélanie calmed down and put her negligee back on without looking Liane in the eye. They embraced for a long time and Mélanie whispered that it was very beautiful, although she felt terribly ashamed. They had crossed a threshold and gave each other many orgasms in the following years, until Liane married her count. Although her sense of shame came forward again at first, they sometimes masturbated themselves in front of each other, sitting across from each other. In later times, Mélanie often included these episodes in her masturbatory fantasies because they had been so beautiful.

As August drew to a close, Liane arrived at Sacré Coeur boarding school near Paris, just a few hours' train ride from her childhood home. Here she was to spend the next year and graduate.

A few years later, Pierre waited with his fingers drumming on the living room table for Mélanie to come down. He grabbed his astonished wife by the arm and dragged her into the bedroom, which was already very unusual. He hardly left time to undress and took her immediately, hastily and wildly, as in her youth. His cock had become smaller over time and he was able to put it entirely into her vagina. She felt his glans hammering against her cervix and he poured hotly inside her. They lay next to each other exhausted and Pierre asked her if it was right? He had heard her and Liane when he was upstairs. He never eavesdrops in general, but when he heard them both, he did.

Mélanie laughed and cuddled his mop of hair, she didn't think there was anything wrong with it, except that he had been eavesdropping, the voyeur! Pierre was the only person to whom she had always been completely honest and to whom she had never lied, now she told him everything. The good‐for‐nothing who had seduced and deflowered Liane before her 14th birthday. Pierre growled angrily. Liane's curiosity and how one thing led to another. She concealed nothing, embellished nothing. That they did it to each other more often, now barely once a month. That Liane, after returning from boarding school, licked her to orgasm, to a mad orgasm, and licked her again and again because it did her so much good. She herself did it to Liane as often as she wanted, although she generally found it disgusting to touch private parts with her mouth. And no, she couldn't find anything wrong with it as she climbed on top of Pierre and inserted his cock.

Their lovemaking got much better as Pierre, the rascal, regularly eavesdropped on the two of them and then greedily and hornily fucked her. For her part, Mélanie contributed by whispering in his ear, telling everything in detail and voluptuously, while at the same time giving him a handjob or fucking. She kept mentioning in amazement how girlish Liane's pubic looked, even though she was already an adult, since she had neither armpits– nor pubic hair, just a delicate light blond fuzz like very young girls. Pierre, who had pleasant shivers running down his spine because of the incest taboo, always got very horny at the thought of Liane's naked body and pubis, for his eavesdropping had long since turned into secret watching.

Mélanie talked more and more about how she wanted to get out of the poverty trap. The Count, the childless widower, was a man of honor through and through and would make a good husband for Liane, who had passionate lovers all the time, but none of them were any good. When the opportunity arose to enter the service of the count, she spoke openly about it with Pierre. She was still sorry that she had cheated on him once, with the Abbé, and that he didn't deserve it. But now it was about Liane's happiness and future, and incidentally also about her own and Pierre's.

You want to seduce him and fuck him, he stated matter‐of‐factly, and she said she had already started it and wanted his consent before continuing. With cooing laughter in her voice she told what she had done so far. Pierre listened with flashing eyes, thinking in a flash of the many men during the Résistance – "I won't be able to stop you from your voluptuous plan. Then, almost formally, my blessing you have!" After a moment he added that she might keep everything to herself, he did not want to hear about it. She kissed him gratefully and after that she seduced Pierre again and again, as she breathed lustfully into his voyeuristic ears everything the count did with her and her beautiful body.

Mélanie

Liane had not noticed that her mother wanted to check on her – the latter remained rooted to the spot in the next room when, through the open door, she caught sight of her completely naked daughter masturbating violently with her legs spread wide. Since Liane could not see her because she was lying with her head in the opposite direction, Mélanie stopped despite her feeling of absolute indecency, thinking only for a brief moment that this was her daughter. The blush flared up on her neck and made her shiver, for she herself did it only secretly and, of course, kept it a secret from all the world; even Pierre knew nothing about it for a long time, since they had sometimes slept apart. For the first time she saw her little daughter masturbating – fascinated and curious she looked. Except for the spread thighs, the upstretched legs, the buttocks and the hand that wildly worked the slippery–wet cunt, nothing was seen, so that this picture somehow had something abstractly sexual. The young girl's innocent greed and fierce desire were so contagious that she soon felt a slight tugging in her own loins, a tugging she knew very well. Mélanie almost passed out with horniness when she recognized Liane's climax from the wild twitching of her bottom. The latter allowed herself only a few moments of pause before continuing to masturbate. The swirling of the fingers in the wet vagina, the dancing and twitching of the upstretched legs and the twitching, quivering work of the buttocks excited Mélanie to such an extent that she soon had only the thought of satisfying her own hot horniness. She quickly and quietly went out again to retire to her bedroom with her heart pounding.

She had, after all, been made aware since childhood that this was a grave sin, which she had indulged in obsessively from her youth, and which she had wisely kept secret at the time. She could never say later when she discovered it, because she did it before she entered school. It was not until she was engaged to Pierre that she haltingly confessed it to her confessor, who persistently questioned her about all the details and, after stern admonition, made her promise to give up this vice after the wedding, because she would then fuck with her husband. But there were simply days when her young abdomen went crazy and drove her to sin – when the urge insidiously attacked her, she usually slipped guiltily into the windowless anteroom behind the kitchen, where she did it in a crouch or standing position, hurriedly and driven to haste by the fear of discovery, or when she had to wait a very long time for Pierre in the evening, reading at the kitchen table, with her hand hidden under the tabletop. Usually she read spicy parts she already knew and the hand crept thoughtfully along the inner thigh, pushed the skirt energetically to the side and slowly and delicately rubbed the clit. She procrastinated as long as she could, savoring every minute of arousal as she read and slowly masturbated. Usually the sinful urge overtook her at a particularly erotic spot, then she lowered her head to the forearm resting on the book and gazed at the hand between her legs as she quickly became aroused. Whirling fast, she made it come, but sometimes took her time to trigger the explosive climax at some point after several near climaxes.

When Pierre woke her up in the morning and she wordlessly got up on her hands and knees to let him penetrate and squirt briefly in doggie style, when Pierre puffed angrily afterwards and went down to his workshop and talked to himself, she took her time to slowly incite the arousal he had hardly been able to increase more and more and to masturbate quickly at the end; defiantly she thought that only he was to blame for this sin, because he never bothered to satisfy her. Pierre and his doggy position! He never wanted to look her in the eyes, cowardly avoided any approach except that of wordlessly turning her onto her stomach and penetrating her from behind.

In her time, after all, one still went into marriage as a virgin and so Pierre's loveless sex only revealed itself on the wedding night. Often she felt only more defiance, because Pierre mounted her from behind whenever he wanted, at any time of day– or night, but never participated in her sex life. Then, when Pierre was showering in the bathroom and humming a ditty, she would get her portion of pleasure by watching herself secretly masturbating in the large dressing mirror. When they were young, she was immensely proud of him because he was so bursting with virility and took her several times a day – how happy she felt next to her girlfriends who complained about their husbands! Once the round of ladies bet which of their husbands had the longest one, and they all brought woolen threads the next time, as agreed, according to the lengths of their cocks. Mélanie had used an excuse to sneak past that, but she wisely kept silent, because she immediately saw that Pierre towered over everyone. His cock only went halfway in with her, but she had always attributed it to the fact that she was short and chubby and he towered over her by two head lengths, lean and muscularly built. Darkly she remembered that he had once told her that it had always bothered him when the other recruits stared at him in the shower, at him and his cock hanging down almost halfway to his thigh – maybe that was part of the reason why he only took her from behind?

.

Mélanie had done hundreds of handjobs in her youth and liked doing it, even though it didn't make her horny at all. The guys loved her quiet, obscene way as she took the cocks to the hand. She had secretly watched her parents in the past and knew from that what she had to do. She was not at all surprised that there were very different cocks and she examined them all very carefully before masturbating them. Sometimes she dabbed at the cum and gently licked her finger to find out the taste. Usually she and the boy disappeared into a bush where she made him squirt. Sometimes, however, at the alcohol‐fueled parties, it happened that she gave one a public hand job to the amusement of all. When she met Pierre, she gave him handjobs naturally and as a matter of course. During the whole engagement period, of course, too, because they traditionally wanted to wait with the other until the wedding night. Pierre had one of the biggest cocks she had seen so far, was insatiable and needed at least two handjobs a day. She herself needed many more masturbations, but she kept that from Pierre for years to come.

Pierre's potency began to decline surprisingly quickly. Her best friend at the time advised her to do it to him with her hand for a while, that would be fine, she should not hang her head. Promptly, Mélanie turned around in the middle of the next time and grabbed Pierre's cock. He was confused and protested half aloud, but she did not give in. He closed his eyes tightly and groaned anxiously for her not to look at him. Mélanie whispered that she was not looking at him at all and rubbed him with her hand, looking at the swell of his glans and estimating that it was almost equal to her forearm in length and girth. She loved his big behemoth, which she saw mostly only when he visited her with his cock erect and excited – and, of course, when she masturbated him. She stroked his entire length with satisfaction and gave him a really good handjob. Pierre reared back as she made him squirt with her fist; high shot his seed and fell on her hand. She continued to rub the squirting glans slowly with her thumb and forefinger, watching curiously as it gushed out a few more times. Pierre jumped up, ran out distraught and didn't show his face again all day. Then in the evening embarrassed looks and silence, then he asked her hurt and sick with grief to never do that again, that was only right before the wedding in the engagement period. He didn't want it that way, only straight right, she knew. Mélanie sighed and nodded, he was such a dear fellow after all, and then she hugged him comfortingly, stroked his bristly hair and whispered that he was her dearest, very–very dearest husband and of course she would only do it the way he liked.

It was one of the few occasions that Pierre leaned against her shoulder and howled liberated — strange, but it reminded her of the day of liberation, they were both 24, the Germans had lost France to the Allies and they laughed and cried as they did now. She cried with joy because Pierre was traveling as an inconspicuous courier for the Resistance and now she could finally keep him without fearing for his life, love him, finally fuck him again undisturbed. Never afterwards did they mention what had happened during the war, they had agreed to forget and forgive each other once and for all for their sexual escapades during the war.

Résistance

She had to close her eyes in shame when she remembered how often during the Résistance they had lived in musty basements or other hideouts with a dozen others, fucking quickly and hastily. They had only been married a short time, after all, and Pierre needed it every day. They usually disappeared into a secluded room, but if there was no room of their own, they waited in the evening until everything settled down before he fucked her in the dark. Mélanie wanted a child so much!

Even later, her heart pounded with shame when she remembered what it was like in those last months. A simple basement room, lit by the glow of a kerosene lamp during the day, gloomy and dark at night. She and Valerie were the only women, although it was rumored about the aloof Valerie that she was an iron lesbian and would not let any man get close to her. Pierre was heartbroken and contrite over the impropriety of the situation, but he couldn't even stand a day without it. They whispered quietly and she agreed that she didn't mind at all; after all, they loved each other, the long skirt hid everything and in the dark they couldn't see anything anyway. The circumstances allowed her until then only extremely rarely to get her usual portion of pleasure by masturbating, so her urges had piled up more than usual and since they were married only recently, she was just craving to be fucked by Pierre to be able to discharge herself. Pierre sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, she had to squat with her back to him over his cock; she had taken off her skirt right away because it was her only one. In the dark she rode his cock doggedly and felt the pleasure rising hotly in her loins, came moaning and complaining lustfully and then fucked him further, panting and exhausted, so that Pierre could cum too.

After Pierre had fallen asleep and his breathing betrayed it, a broad, male hand groped her body, slipped under the covers and caressed her bare skin, breasts, belly and pubic area. Mélanie, who had only been touched by Pierre so far, overcame her initial shyness and groped for the man's cock. She began to give him a handjob, but he silently moved closer and closer. Infinitely cautious, the man laid on top of her and penetrated. Her heart almost stopped with shame, because Pierre was the only one she ever fucked so far. Never had another man touched her intimately, not even in her youth when she gave handjobs to the boys. She had never felt anyone other than Pierre in her vagina. This cock was smaller than Pierre's and she listened deep inside to feel being fucked by another man. Over on the other side of Pierre, soft masturbation noises could clearly be heard. That was Valerie, Mélanie heard her masturbating quietly every night as she rested on Pierre's chest. She held her breath as the man fucked very fast and squirted inside her. Contrary to her expectation, he stayed on top of her, his cock recovered after a few minutes and he fucked her again. He excited her much more this time and when she couldn't take it anymore, she masturbated with restrained breath to a silent orgasm. The man had left his cock very deep in her vagina and waited silently while she masturbated and then started again. Only after a long fucking did the man pour out and silently withdraw. She rested her head back on Pierre's chest and listened to Valerie orgasm quietly several times. Almost every night the man or someone else was there to fuck her under the cover of darkness, while she in turn listened to Valerie's easily audible masturbation and her plaintive, almost inaudible sounds as she orgasmed. She never mentioned it to Pierre, it was war and the old norms no longer applied.

Pierre was on the road some days with his backpack and came back in the evening exhausted. He never talked about how many men he had to kill with his knife. He had to work that out with his conscience alone. Mélanie cleaned his jacket or trousers from the blood stains and did not ask.

The eternal waiting and being afraid — their waiting was ordered and lasted over six weeks — made Pierre furious, often taking her several times in a row under cover of darkness. Of course they were anxious to be quiet, but probably everyone in the room got it. Mélanie was riding Pierre's cock again and was well on her way when she suddenly felt a hand on her thigh, but it wasn't Pierre, because he was holding her waist with both hands, raising and lowering her up and down and controlling her ride. She was startled only briefly because she was already insanely horny. Suddenly she knew it was Valerie. Valerie's hand gently stroked the inside of her thigh and slid higher and higher. Torn between fearful indignation and spurred horniness, she tried at first to avoid the hand that had felt its way up to her cunt. But the conflicting feelings produced an even more intense arousal and inflamed her so suddenly that she held still and pushed her pelvis forward to find Valerie's hand with her clit. While Pierre held her and fucked her from below, the strange finger excited her clit. She opened wide and thrust her abdomen forward. Exploding, she reached down herself and put her fingers on Valeries, pressed both on her clit and orgasmed moaning. But she felt immensely ashamed afterwards. Pierre, to whom she later quietly whispered a partial truth — that someone was stroking her thigh — in his ear, lovingly scolded her a love‐struck fool who was imagining it all. After all, she could not tell him the full truth at the time, he had no idea what a strong onanist his wife was.

The next night she almost passed away with shame, as she almost couldn't wait to feel Valerie's naughty hand again, eagerly awaiting her with conflicting feelings. For only a woman knew so well what was at stake. The thought gave her a powerful thrill, moaning as she squirmed with shame and unbridled lust, surrendering to Valerie's fingers, who understood that she had to squeeze Mélanie's clit and her whole sex tightly as she orgasmed. When Valerie's fingers slowed and vibrated at a standstill, Mélanie felt — or was she imagining? — that the invisible Valerie was now masturbating hard herself. But the fingers quickly revived, stimulating her tenderly and ever more urgently, Mélanie moaned and squirmed. Pierre held her with both hands and rhythmically raised them to satisfy himself, but she spread her knees wide apart as in a pagan ritual, opening her sex to the invisible priestess who, rotating rapidly, performed the sacrifice. Exhausted, she sometimes had to hold Valerie's hand and push it away from her; she simply could not go on. Still, she waited for the nightly caresses of the secret third with great longing.

She never mentioned it to Pierre again, because she was annoyed that he never mentioned the masturbating fingers that inevitably had to touch his cock as well. She, at least, always noticed it when Valerie unabashedly palpated his cock with her fingers while fucking or squirting. When Mélanie recovered after an orgasm and Pierre continued to fuck her, Valerie would simply stop his cock while fucking and pull it out vigorously. She literally gave him a hand job. Before squirting, she pulled his foreskin back really tight and thrust his glans into Mélanie's vagina and kept masturbating him, and when he had to cum like crazy in Mélanie's vagina, she pushed the whole cock in. But the bastard never mentioned it. He didn't say a word about waiting in her vagina after he had cum until Valerie, after feeling him to see if his cock was still stiff, vigorously pulled him out again and gave him another handjob like before. He apparently assumed that Mélanie, who was witnessing it firsthand, was tacitly accepting it.

Mélanie was annoyed with him, because his fucking had also changed. He fucked slowly and cautiously at first, waiting until Valerie had made Mélanie orgasm. He fucked a little to increase Mélanie's orgasm. Then he paused, waiting, until Valerie vigorously pulled his cock out and gave him the handjob to steer his glans back into Mélanie's vagina before squirting and letting him squirt there. Most of the time his cock went limp only after Valerie gave him a second handjob. Only when his cock became flaccid, Valerie withdrew to masturbate quietly, but well audible for Mélanie, until deep into the night. Pierre needed Valerie's hand constantly from now on to let her very strong fingers and fist masturbate him. Sometimes, when he got impatient, he grabbed Valerie's hand and put it vigorously on his cock — Mélanie, who was still squatting on his cock before the handjob, got to feel it first hand. Valerie quickly pulled his cock out of her vagina and gave him the handjob. She was kind of grateful to Valerie for not wasting his semen and letting him squirt in her vagina after the handjob.

Mélanie was not long annoyed when she contrasted these outrageous handjobs with the fact that as soon as Pierre fell asleep snoring loudly, her faceless admirers crept up silently, usually two or three of them screwing her silently one after the other. But maybe Pierre had figured this out and that was why he was so cavalier about letting Valerie masturbate him.

Valerie didn't let on during the day, was the tough resistance fighter with the steel blue eyes and was an excellent sharpshooter. Mélanie had accompanied her to an assassination several times, because while one woman carrying a long package stood out, no one looked closely when two women were hauling a package. She served only as a lookout so that Valerie could prepare the rifle, telescope, and magazine without being disturbed. In the seconds when Valerie fired, she hold her breath and immediately retreat as discussed. Once, on the way home, the taciturn Valerie said, 85. This one was her 85th kill.

Mélanie had to fire her antique LeMat Revolver only once. Valerie had just shot two German officers in the opposite café from a basement window and they were about to hastily retreat when four German soldiers — apparently looking for the wine cellar — met them in the basement corridor. Valerie had only one round left in the magazine and fired immediately. In all the noise and shouting, Mélanie didn't even notice that she had already emptied her nine‐shooter and it just clicked empty. Valerie put her hand on the heavy revolver and said it was over. As she collected the Germans' guns and magazines, she murmured appreciatively, you got all three. Mélanie suddenly felt an indomitable sexual desire rising and greedily reached under her skirt. Valerie grabbed her hand and said, not here, we have to go!

Mélanie followed her stumbling, barely able to run from sexual arousal. When they thought they were safe, they sat down on a ledge of the wall. Mélanie immediately began to masturbate under her skirt. Valerie pushed up Mélanie's skirt and took over masturbating Mélanie. The latter kneaded her breasts through the coarse fabric and very quickly came to orgasm with a squeezed, suppressed cry. Valerie continued to gently stroke her labia and squatted down. She flipped up her own skirt and masturbated, her eyes fixed on Mélanie's labia, which she stroked with erratic gestures. Mélanie had recovered and was watching another woman masturbate for the first time in her life. Valerie was doing it very hard and fast, as she orgasmed she pulled back the skin around the big clit tightly with her fingers and Mélanie could see the clit nodding, nodding and nodding. "May I?" asked Mélanie later, and Valerie nodded. They traded places and Mélanie examined Valerie's pubic and vagina very closely, then masturbated Valerie exactly as she had just seen. When Valerie came to orgasm, she pulled the skin of the clit back very tightly and watched the nodding carefully. Mélanie loved it and said so.

Neither of them mentioned the night's doings with Pierre. Not a word about Mélanie's secret fucking with the faceless men, which Valerie listened to while masturbating. Not a word about Valerie's masturbating, which Mélanie listened to while secretly fucking or afterwards. They pissed side by side on the floor laughing companionably and broke up. Valerie said it was exactly the same for her first kills, but after her orgasm, her companion fucked her every time. She grinned, fucking was not so hers by now, but the fellow could do it excellently, always twice in a row and she orgasmed every time.

They had been on their escape route for over an hour, Mélanie's thoughts again revolving around the high after the kill, reigniting a high‐pitched sexual arousal in her abdomen. She could barely walk and pressed her hand on her skirt, on her pubic, and sighed. Valerie recognized it and headed for a protective ruin. Mélanie laid her head on Valerie's lap and masturbated with pleasure. Valerie stroked her head, then slipped her hand under her blouse and fondled Mélanie's breasts as she continued. She had a lesbian love affair towards the end of her school years and only then learned to masturbate, which she soon needed several times a day. After her first shot, she had a fit of tremendous horniness when they took a break and immediately had to masturbate without paying attention to Bruno. In the middle of her orgasm, while she was still orgasming with a loud cry, Bruno deflowered her and fucked her twice in a row.

There were only four of them on the base and Bruno, who had to sweep out his alpha, stripped her completely naked and fucked the reluctant one completely unabashedly in front of the other two. She had orgasms with Bruno every time and looked plaintively at the other two before screaming loudly in orgasm. She was embarrassed to be fucked in public only the first few times, although she always had a plaintive expression in her eyes as she was fucked. Her cries soon became triumphant and she pressed her fingers around her clit so they could get a good look at the proud nod. When Bruno fell asleep, Valerie fucked the other two, because she really liked being fucked then and had great doubts about whether she was really a lesbian. The two beta–males did not fuck as well as Bruno, so she always masturbated while fucking. In retrospect, she suspected that Bruno knew about all this.

Valerie felt that Mélanie had orgasmed often enough now and urged departure. After returning to the base, Valerie reported that two officers and four other soldiers had been taken out and how heroically Mélanie had fought. The latter was hugged and kissed by all. Valerie hugged her last and kissed her deeply, it was a beautiful French kiss that Mélanie returned just as deeply and never forgot. Of course, no word about masturbating, but Mélanie later told Pierre, whispered everything in detail in his ear while fucking, he allowed to fuck with him face to face. She whispered of the wonderful joint masturbation with Valerie after her fit of horniness, left nothing out and also described Valerie's cunt in detail down to the last pubic hair. Told about Valerie's defloration and that she really liked fucking with her mates afterwards. Sometimes he wanted to hear it again, because it excited not only him but also Mélanie very much.

Once, as they whispered softly to each other, she asked Pierre if he would like to fuck Valerie if she would let him, and he immediately answered in the affirmative. They both knew that Valerie would never allow it, yet Mélanie felt a twinge in her heart. The other morning, Pierre's eyes narrowed as he watched Valerie tantalizingly wash her girlish breasts and pubic area. Pierre didn't hesitate that night and pushed Mélanie aside after a few minutes of fucking. He groped for Valerie with both hands and lifted her vigorously onto his lap, her face turned toward him. Mélanie knelt in front of him, clutching his cock, sensing that Valerie was hesitating for a very long time. She made Pierre wait and masturbated sitting on him. Mélanie was completely perplexed as the iron lesbian tremblingly orgasmed and slowly slipped her twitching vagina over Pierre's cock and inserted it to its full length. She must have a much longer vagina than she had, Mélanie thought, because he didn't go all the way in with her. Mélanie left her hand on the root of his cock and later on Valerie's labia while Valerie fucked Pierre fast and hard. The bastard held back cum as long as he could and Valerie orgasmed silently trembling one after another. She remained motionless as he cum violently in her vagina. He remained stiff after squirting and Valerie continued. Mélanie put her hand on the front of Valerie's cunt so that Valerie's clit rubbed against her palm and fingers. Valerie orgasmed over and over, trembling and soundless, until Pierre squirted again and his cock softened. They lay down to sleep and Mélanie felt a dark emptiness and indifference inside her as she was later fucked by three guys in a row.

It was indifferent to her in the meantime whether Pierre noticed anything of it. Pierre, the wretched one who was screwing Valerie and not her, that hurt. Mélanie pressed her lips together hard as Valerie reluctantly gave in to Pierre's urgings over the next three nights. As she had done the day before, she masturbated first, and only when she began to orgasm tremulously did Mélanie release Pierre's cock and direct his glans into Valerie's vagina, vigorously clasping his cock and only very hesitantly allowing it to penetrate Valerie's vagina, who then fucked him like a fury. I'm sure Valerie only did it because it satisfied her as much as masturbating. Valerie paused as he cum deep in her vagina and Mélanie felt with her fingertips exactly how his semen was spurting through his urethra. She knelt in front of Pierre and palpated his cock and Valerie's sex when she orgasmed tremulously. A naughty hand pushed down on her ass and lifted her ass. The naughty hand expertly palpated her ass and cunt, then a naughty cock slid very slowly into her vagina, mounting her from behind like a dog. She remained completely motionless and supported herself with her hand on Valerie's sex, so that Pierre would not notice anything of her wiggling while being fucked, and was glad when the naughty one squirted shortly after the penetration and disappeared silently. Mélanie was quite sure that others noticed it too, because Valerie fucked quite loudly. Mélanie pulled back from Pierre and stretched her ass cheeks up as the next guy groped her. She heard the guys who were behind the guy who was fucking her and who were impatiently waiting to fuck her afterwards, also masturbating unabashedly. This monstrosity was repeated during three more nights.

Pierre left shortly after midnight to get to the meeting place in time. Mélanie was now lying next to Valerie, feeling every movement of her body as the invisible men approached and fucked her. One after the other. One man dared and groped the masturbating Valerie and since she didn't put up much of a fight, he penetrated her vagina and fucked her. So Mélanie and Valerie lay sisterly next to each other and were fucked by the men until late at night. Sometimes one of Mélanie's men would roll right over onto Valerie to fuck her. The next morning the two women washed at the washstand and Valerie, grinning wryly, said that was a heavy night. Mélanie, who had slept too little, growled that because Pierre was out, they all wanted to fuck them. Sullenly she washed the traces of the night from her pubis and inner thighs, where the semen had left dozens of traces.

Pierre arrived after sunset, appearing out of nowhere with bad news. Their group was split in two, Pierre and she were ordered to a base, and they had to leave immediately. Mélanie, like Pierre, said goodbye to everyone individually. Valerie was the last to arrive and dodged an attempted hug from Pierre. She just squeezed his hand tightly and murmured, thank you Pierre, then embraced Mélanie and gave her a long, intimate French kiss, which she returned. Valerie left without turning around. They never learned of Valerie's pregnancy. Pierre led the way, Mélanie silently following him into the darkness.

The fear of dying any day dictated to live out all sexuality immediately, free of all morality, and to enjoy pleasure today because there might not be a tomorrow.

Everyday

In later years, Pierre came to bed with her only on Sunday mornings. Wordlessly and mechanically, like a bad puppet show, they made the preparations that had gradually emerged as he failed more and more often and she sought advice from her best friend. She turned her back to him, lowered herself onto her hands and knees, and willingly held out her bottom to him. One hand she placed on her buttock to silently insert it into the proper portal. Pierre knelt behind her and, if his erection was not yet strong enough, jerked off. Then she reached her hand down between her legs to excite Pierre on his testicles, who thrust only two– or three times and then held still. Then she rubbed his tired old cock until she felt its strengthening and quickly rocked her pelvis back and forth, thrusting backward to fuck and satisfy herself with his cock as with a dildo. She continued tirelessly until she felt his coming. She put her strong fingers around the part of his cock that was no longer going in with her, rubbed it hard and fast, Pierre liked that so much, and made him squirt. Pierre's cock reared up and twitched rhythmically in her vagina, and she continued to rub gently as long as his orgasm lasted. After that, Sunday morning belonged entirely to her and her secret lust.

This went on for several years, quietly and always consistent. One day, however, she had been awakened by Pierre from immensely horny dreams and lustful fantasies — Armand, the Count, had taken her to the Orchid House and fucked, licked, masturbated her — suddenly Pierre was there, his cock highly aroused and fully erect as he was every Sunday morning. Stirred, she took Pierre's cock inside her and fucked him harder than usual. Her lust defeated her previous sense of shame toward Pierre; she brought herself to climax greedily and without regard for him, additionally stimulating her clit with the heel of her hand while thinking of Armand in the orchid house and jerking Pierre's cock. She had to pause as it came to her, and her twitching womb made poor Pierre groan and moan. With difficulty his cock choked out the semen, for he had become so accustomed to her help that it was almost impossible without her stimulation. At this, she almost passed away with shame, for only very rarely had Pierre witnessed her masturbation. He was amazed and surprised, but she completely ignored his feelings from now on. Masturbating satisfied her and also Pierre, who was carried away by her orgasm and cummed with difficulty, slowly and full of agony.

Usually, however, when he had not been able to squirt, she resumed fucking for his sake right away, even though her climax had not yet subsided. It happened that she experienced small aftershocks again, then she fucked him like a fast ticking clockwork and stubbornly got her pleasure. In order to get it over with quickly afterwards, she finally did it to him very firmly with her hand. Lowering her head to her forearm, she stretched her butt as high as it could go to make her ass cheeks widen. Pierre pulled his cock back a little so that only his glans was inside her. This was his secret sign that she should masturbate him now. She looked down between her legs and jerked him to full length, very quickly and vigorously, since that was the way he liked it best. She watched her hand jerking his cock and slowly rocked her abdomen back and forth, slowly fucking his glans with her labia. Knowing when he needed to squirt, she pulled her buttock to the side with one hand so that her vagina opened wide and rubbed with the other so fast and swirling that Pierre exploded inside her, gasping. She paused patiently, her buttocks thrust up and her buttocks widening sharply with both hands, while Pierre jerked his seed in with helpless fucking motions. He stroked her buttocks gratefully and very affectionately, kissed her quickly on the neck and disappeared ashamedly before she turned around. Less and less often she thought of the engagement–confessor and when she did, it was with a mute idiot! and gave herself over to her urges, the sinful urges she had apparently inherited from Liane.

Pierre's sexual flaccidity began to show around the time of her pregnancy. Mélanie knew instinctively that it had to do with the Villiers‐le‐Bel station and that his sexuality was failing him because of it. Before, he would come into her bedroom with his penis erect to fuck her. Now, however, he would often go limp while she was still turning on all fours. Pierre was inconsolable and, feeling unobserved by her when he knelt behind her, he rubbed his cock until it stood again. Of course, she watched him surreptitiously, resting her head on her forearms, under her belly. Pierre jerked off as fast as he could, letting his glans dance on her butt crease as he did so; Mélanie felt it and danced her butt back and forth to tease him. And then Pierre just couldn't stop, Mélanie driving him on and on with her ass wiggling obscenely and her labia glistening wetly, snapping at his cock with her labia to catch it. If she succeeded, he penetrated her briefly, to cum immediately with violent twitches of his cock. Mostly, however, he squirted his semen on the outside of her labia, or placed it on her butt hole to cum. Anyway, it was not unpleasant for Mélanie, she was quite turned on by the sight of his masturbation.

During her pregnancy, Pierre was magically attracted to her ass and whispered that he wanted to try it. Mélanie whispered that she agreed and that he should not hurt her. He masturbated for a very long time and made her hole wet with his glans and index finger. Then he slowly and carefully put the glans in her asshole, slowly slid deeper and fucked her for a very long time before he exploded. It hurt a bit the first time, but Mélanie enjoyed the unusual sensations he caused her and could even enjoy the little bit of pain. Mélanie, who was small and roundish, enjoyed the ass fucking, because he came from above and his cock pressed so pleasantly through the ass channel on the sensitive part of her vagina, almost like normal fucking. Pierre fucked her for a very long time when he fucked her ass, and she enjoyed it, letting him know with lustful moans how much arousal it brought her. Just before he squirted, she secretly grabbed her clit and after seconds had an orgasm that Pierre rarely noticed because he didn't notice anything because of the ferocity and twitching of the squirting.

As her belly became rounder and rounder and it could only be weeks away, they should only masturbate out of consideration, he said haltingly as he came into her bedroom fully erect. That time was also the only time they did it openly in front of each other. She was already far too sluggish to lean on all fours and remained on her back when Pierre joined her. He stroked her face and gently closed her eyelids, then knelt at the foot of the bed and masturbated. Mélanie watched him from under her half‐closed eyelids and spread her legs wide apart, lasciviously and enticingly offering him her wide‐open vulva beneath her rounded belly. She took a long time for her exhibitionistic contortions, which excited herself. She was constantly very horny in these last weeks of pregnancy, which gave her a certain indifference to Pierre's taboos, so she didn't hold back at all. Her hand slid around her belly to her pubic, very slowly she masturbated and looked at him with big wet eyes begging him to fuck her properly! Pierre's eyes almost fell out of his head, because she pulled her knees further and further and let her fingers dance wilder and wilder on her clit. Just before climax, she lifted her pelvis and heavy belly, stuck two stretched fingers into her vagina and fucked herself with fast, wild movements. She pushed her butt up, thrusting her abdomen wildly against her hand and humping herself harder and harder until the orgasm exploded inside her. She jerked her head back briefly with exertion and with a last effort of will spread her labia with both hands, stretching out the orgasmic twitches of her cunt to him as an offering. Pierre came now at the latest, yanking hard and panting on his cock, spraying his seed in long streaks and big round drops over Mélanie's abdomen. She smiled and continued masturbating after a brief pause, her devotion to her vice making Pierre all twitchy. He erected again and played with his cock while she continued to masturbate until she stopped, exhausted.

Pierre had taken to putting his glans in her mouth during those months of pregnancy when he masturbated. Although disgusted at first, she played around the glans with her tongue and lips, because he liked that a lot. He held her head tightly as he squirted deep in her throat and only withdrew his cock when she had swallowed all the semen. He was always extra sweet after that and grateful that she joined in on his escapades. She got used to it and always made it as nice for him as she could. But this love craze lasted only a short time, because after the birth Pierre resumed his former habits.

Villiers‐le‐Bel

Even later, Mélanie's heart pounded with shame when she remembered what it was like in the last few weeks in another hiding place. A simple basement room, lit day and night by the glow of a kerosene lamp, and she was the only woman, both of them townspeople among simple country folk. Pierre was heartbroken and contrite at the impropriety of the situation, but he couldn't even stand a day without it. They whispered quietly and she agreed, she didn't mind at all; after all, they loved each other, the long skirt hid everything and in the dim light they couldn't see anything anyway. Pierre sat on the floor and she had to squat on his cock with her back to him. So he took her, took her in front of all the comrades who looked at her face and cunt, because she had to take off her skirt while she was being fucked. Most of the men secretly masturbated in their pockets, some went to the toilet bucket and relieved themselves standing up. Mélanie's eyes began to glisten with horniness as she watched the men masturbate, but Pierre was already squirting, way too fast.

Toward the end of the war, Pierre and she, along with several others from the Résistance, locked themselves in a warehouse at the Villiers‐le‐Bel train station. The Germans were too far away to spot them and turned all their attention in the other direction because the Résistance was attacking them sporadically from there. Their orders were to hold out and defend this depot, it was filled to the top. They had enough water, rations and weapons and the windowless room was lit by the glow of a kerosene lamp. The eternal waiting and being afraid — their waiting was ordered and should last for a couple weeks — made Pierre furious, already on the first day he took her several times in a row under the horny looks of the others. Mélanie was already quite jaded in this respect, because he had already fucked her many times in public, i.e. in front of strangers, and it even seemed to spur him on.

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Of course they were all horny, for by now she didn't care that she was completely naked without a skirt; on the contrary, she even felt a certain pleasure in her exposed nakedness. She didn't think for a moment that she was protecting herself with indifference against her sense of shame and with exhibitionism against Pierre's cowardice, who was hiding behind her and using her as a living shield. She satisfied her exhibitionist urges by being deliberately lascivious and showing the comrades everything, really everything. Pierre fucked her sitting down and everyone stared at her cunt where his monster raged. In this squatting position, where Pierre's cock rhythmically pressed her clit from below, her horniness rose quickly, she literally exploded, twitching wildly and uncontrollably — after all, she had no possibility to masturbate somewhere secretly, so the horniness gradually built up inside her and sometimes suddenly discharged during the fucking.

Mélanie felt a strange inner satisfaction that during her lascivious and obscene performance, half a dozen men were standing and masturbating in that corner of the room where the toilet bucket was. She had already fucked Pierre riding him upside down and was now sitting quietly on his lap, his still stiff cock deep in her vagina, waiting for the next round. But it was not enough for the good people of the country in the basement to squirt into the toilet bucket. The bravest came masturbating to her and she could still mentally pull apart her blouse before he splashed his seed on her breasts. The blouse had to go, she now sat completely naked on Pierre and the men in the semicircle stepped very close to her to squirt their semen on her naked body. At first Pierre growled, but eventually he didn't care. To one who persisted in wanting to fuck her, she – naked as she was – did a handjob, her breasts and whole body jiggling along, she seemed to float on Pierre's cock. Pierre watched, laughing. She laughed cooing as she made the fellow squirt and let his seed splash on her breasts. This triggered something in the group.

Two of the strongest sat down on Pierre's shoulders and arms, then she was fucked by some, one by one. Pierre cursed profanely and waved his revolver threateningly, but he looked into eight revolver courses and conceded defeat. Mélanie was pretty jaded by now, since Pierre was always fucking her in public, so she didn't think it was so bad to be quasi‐publicly fucked by everyone in turn. They were all good patriots and despite the enormity, they were all peaceful. Mostly they fucked in the missionary position, a few times in the doggy position. Two wanted to take her in pairs, one in her vagina, the other in her ass at the same time. She had to press her mouth on the neck of the one lying down to keep from crying out loud in those insane orgasms.

She always knew when one wanted her, he only had to expose himself and she took off her skirt and blouse, back in the war she had neither bra nor underpants. When she felt the excitement rising and the boy was already about to squirt, she pointed with her hand or waved her fingers that the next one should come. If the boys managed a flying change — and they usually did — then her arousal rose inexorably and by the second, at the latest the third, she reached her orgasm. The men were fair and gave her some time to catch her breath. She soon lost count, but she was fucked at least fifteen times every day, usually more. They had to wait idly and if they saw nothing else than a quite pretty young woman being fucked by the comrades, they got horny again and again. What Pierre alone rarely managed, they always achieved together. She had many orgasms every day and enjoyed every single one.

For two boys, no more than 16 or 17, it was obviously the first time. The first day they just watched the goings‐on and didn't dare. Mélanie reached out her hand to one of them and pulled him on top of her. She whispered in his ear that she would help him and that he should trust her. He nodded imperceptibly and hid his face in her hair. She reached for his erection and gently inserted it into her vagina. With one hand she hugged him gently and with the other she gave signals with light pressure on his buttocks how fast he was allowed to thrust. She whispered hoarse words of love in his ear and the boy moaned as he squirted. She kept his cock in her vagina and whispered that next time he would surely last longer. Right after him, she beckoned the other boy over, who was experiencing about the same beautiful first time. Again and again, in a hoarse whisper, she instructed them both to hold out longer and to pay attention to her breathing, they would then notice in time when she herself was ready. It was the most beautiful thing to make a woman gasp and moan and climax. The docile boys were thus educated to be reliable orgasm givers.

Pierre fucked her only very early in the morning, when she had gotten up and had washed her body. After he had cum, he retreated to the farthest corner, black sadness in his heart and full of wounded masculinity, but he could not take his eyes off his wife. Unlike the others, he fucked her only once– or twice in the morning and spent the rest of the day full of sadness and self‐pity. Ten days later, they were dispersed to different bases and lost sight of each other.

Pierre loved her so much that he blocked all this out and even in later years, when they spoke of the war, he would proudly say how great they had done then and no one had noticed.

The Conception

No, she cheated on Pierre only once, once before she gave herself to the Count. That was just a few years after their marriage, right after the war ended. She had lost all self‐esteem and felt soiled after being screwed by her comrades from the Resistance for a good some weeks in front of everyone. It was a time when she was so full of despair because Pierre and she could not have a child. Desperate, she lured Pierre to bed again and again, almost ruining him, letting him copulate her several times in a row, she was soon to be 25! But it didn't help, no matter how soft she made her vagina and how wide she spread it with her fingers, no matter how deep she put herself over his cock when he squirted, nothing helped, not even the warm sitting baths, with or without vinegar and bath salts. The new priest, Abbé Fabien, understood her very well, listened patiently to her confessions and asked her right at the beginning not to always let all the details pulled out of her nose – order must be, that was part of a proper confession, and especially the 6th commandment had to be confessed completely and in all details. Mélanie obeyed the tall, handsome young man and described everything, really everything, to him in the fullest detail. Since Monsieur l'Abbé was still waiting for his housekeeper, the parish determined that Mélanie should perform the most important household affairs for him for an appropriate fee. This is how she came to the rectory, this is how she got to know Fabien better, and this is how she became his mistress, his ardent, fierce lover.

Fabien — he did not want to be called Monsieur l'Abbé — Fabien, then, was a tall, slender man with reddish hair and broad, large hands; the angular face with ascetic features betrayed nothing about his ardent sensuality. When he first embraced her — she had just bent over to wipe the bottom shelf of a rack, paying close attention to the fact that the work dress shifted way up and her naked, plump ass and pubic cleft were clearly visible. She stretched her buttocks provocatively high, Fabien suddenly stood behind her and grabbed her by the hips, pushing and rubbing his abdomen firmly and unmistakably against her buttocks – so when he embraced her, she was not surprised, for she had had to confess her crush on him so many times before, he had become the hero in her masturbation fantasies, which she was initially very embarrassed to confess. Then in bed (it was the bed in which His Excellency the Bishop of Nimes used to spend the night) in bed everything was quite different from what she was used to. He looked at her, with his big sad Breton eyes, and made love to her from the front, tender and gentle and wild. She would have run away from him had she not experienced such a beautiful orgasm that her knees trembled for an hour afterwards. She had been overtaken by orgasm and as he continued, she moaned and howled with pleasure, coming again and again in little orgasmic spasms. And Fabien could wait with the squirting until she was in the middle of the orgasm — how wonderful to feel it inside her at that very moment, looking into his eyes! Not for a second did she think about Pierre when she was in bed with Fabien, because he took her completely, she got into such a great ride with him that there was no room for anyone else.

Not that Fabien's cock was in any way better than Pierre's, on the contrary; but Fabien could simply do better with his. Even when it came far too soon for him at first, he stayed inside her and still brought her to climax with his semi‐stiffy. Mélanie sometimes cried with physical happiness, because Fabien didn't need or want to be rubbed at all and always gave her an orgasm while fucking without her having to help. She felt like a wicked vamp when she slept with both men on the same day, but lied to herself that it made Pierre, whom she still loved hotly, much happier when she had Fabien in front of her in her fantasies and then made it all the more intimate and heartfelt for him. She confessed in the confessional that when she made love to Pierre she became so aroused that now she had to masturbate as often as never before. Fabien, who loved crude jokes in addition to women, smirked when she described her incredible masturbation fantasies to him:

The Abbé gave her absolution with the stipulation that she do it right now — yes, here in the confessional! — to do it. Her confession hurt him and made him quarrel with God, but Mélanie had to do it now, in spite of all the sanctity of the place, in spite of other possible confessors who — if they were there at all — looked at each other distraught and probably quickly made the sign of the cross, just in case.

I can't, they might hear us! whispered Mélanie.

The Abbé pushed the curtain aside a little and looked around.

There is no one here but the two of us, he said, closing the curtain again.

Mélanie needed a few moments to be sure that the Abbé was indeed serious. Now, above all, she had to do it quickly and silently, no rustling of clothes, then, rolling up her skirt quickly, she sat back on her heels, feeling comfortably naked in that dim darkness. She started slowly, then let the penitent finger dance on the sinful clit that he just regretted it! When she could barely suppress her gasps, the Abbé quietly opened the lattice window and watched her orgasm. Before dismissing her, he said that the next confession had better take place in the sacristy, and then he laughed that this was a special suspense of Holy Mother Church, the sacristy confession sin. She later wondered doubtfully to whom she could have confessed these sinful confessions, for the Abbé must have made her do this worst of bad confessional sins a dozen times, so offended was he.

This first confession she still took seriously, but the following ones she felt as a pure love game. In any case, she confessed henceforth in his sacristy, after he had locked the door as a precaution. Following his instructions, she squatted with her skirt pulled up — she never wore underwear since the war — up on the Altar of his Excellency, the Bishop of Nimes, lay on her back with her legs spread, and waited until the Abbé took a chair opposite her and said softly introimus ad altarem dei. He watched her intently as she slowly (Agnus dei, murmured the lost man of God) aroused herself with gentle, circular movements (Kyrie eleison), then worked her clit more purposefully (laudate dominem), and in a rapid staccato (sursum corda) brought herself to climax (Deo gratias). Ego te absolvo, the Abbé then said hoarsely and went out so that she could get dressed. Here and there she fooled him a little and held him back, in honor of the Bishop of Nimes was still to offer a lustful sacrifice, and then she gave the Abbé the joy of her Second Time.

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Fabien laughed brightly and then coughed sheepishly, for they were really in the confessional, then whispered that she should leave Pierre, that he was leaving the parish together with her and would go with her to the ends of the earth to be happy with her. That would be her only and true absolution. Mélanie kept silent to this, because she loved Pierre more and with all her heart than the lost and forlorn man of God, she would never have left Pierre.

Unfortunately, this romance lasted only a few months; then the new housekeeper came to the rectory and the Abbé would now fuck the new horny bitch which the Bishop had sent. She fucked him in the afternoon and before dinner, the rotten bitch fucked the poor Holy Man the whole night until sunrise.

Mélanie stayed at home, somehow sad, but yet not unhappy, because she was finally pregnant. Mélanie instinctively knew in the first second who Liane's father was, even though she had made love to both of them every day during the time in question; some times she had even sneaked back to Fabien the same evening.

She even thought she knew exactly which day it was — a day on which she felt the sanctity of this place as never before. The only time that Fabien double locked the main church door. The only time that, lying naked on the high altar of the Bishop of Nimes, she had opened herself as never before. She looked around her and looked up at all the saints and angels. She was so moved by all the holiness that she opened her thighs wide like angels' wings and prayed with emotion that the saints and angels would give her the child she longed for, while the holy madman dropped his clothes and mounted her on the high altar. They clasped each other, the mad saint and the holy fool, who felt quite intensely that with each thrust of the blessed pole all her sins of Villiers‐le‐Bel station fell away like dried hard mud. She just had to open herself more softly, more intimately, and receive the seed of the mad, holy man very deep inside her. The holy fool woman screamed in orgasm at the top of her lungs so that it echoed through the empty nave and the statues of the saints winced. Sinful Fabien also twitched and jerked, jetting thrust after thrust of his seed into Mélanie's vagina. This was the sacred moment of Liane's conception.

But she pushed all musings aside – Pierre was Liane's father! She drove from the gynecologist directly to Pierre's workshop and hugged him happily, kissed the initially embarrassed on the mouth in front of all his colleagues and stammered excitedly that it had worked, they were having a child! Pierre, her husband, her dearest husband was now a daddy! Pierre had tears of joy in his eyes and hugged her tightly and lovingly and all the colleagues stood up and applauded. The two were in a real frenzy of joy and called all relatives and friends, then there was a big celebration at their parents and grandparents.

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