BOOK II

France in My Pants

So it's true. Tania is bald as an eagle, bald as an egg. All that's left to show that she used to have a sprouting young rosebush down there between her legs is a soft bristling when she's rubbed the wrong way. And it's not only her cuntlet that's been shaved ... she's shaved her ass too, or had it shaved ... . not that there such a hell of a lot there to begin with... . .

"Peter did it," she tells me, "and Snuggles helped. Isn't it funny?"

She spreads her legs farther apart, slips down and pulls her dress up higher so that I can see it as well as feel it. It's as smooth as her face ... smoother, because on her face there's still a light down which you can see if you get the light just right.

"I looked so strange when it was being done," Tania giggles. "Like a horse foaming at the mouth. Peter said he wished I could make it juice that way."

I can see what it must have been like... Snuggles holding the bowl of warm water, using the lathering brush, Peter holding his sister's ass cheeks apart while he ran the razor down the crack... . Yes, that must have been a swell party.

Tania can't sit still on my lap. She wiggles her ass from one side to the other, squeezes my hand between her thighs. She's got that itch in her tail again... .

taking her muff away from her hasn't done much to cool her pants. We could play a game, she says archly, to see if Jean Jeudi still recognizes her bonne-bouche... .

He'll recognize her... . That thing is the face of Medusa where he's concerned

... . one look and he turns to stone, even without the snaky whiskers. I've got a rock in my pants already ... . but Tania knows how to soften it up ... . she turns it to lava in that furnace of hers, and pours it out.

Tania's wet between the legs. She doesn't have any hair to mop it up with now, all that juice, she says ... perhaps she'll have to ask to borrow mine ... . and into my pants she goes, grabbing a handful. The bitch, she doesn't even ask for things any more, she takes what she can, and what she can't get for herself, she demands.

Johnny, she thinks, would look very queer without his beaver. She opens my fly, pulls him out, and gives him the eye... . Yes, he's got to have his whiskers to keep his dignity, she says. She tickles him under the chin... . If he didn't have that fancy overcoat, Tania thinks, he'd probably hide his head for shame and never get big ... . . he'd lose his spirit. Peter, she goes on to let me know, wouldn't let Snuggles and her shave him... .

Tania has my cock in a death grip ... . she'll never let it go now until the life has been choked out of it. But she's like a kid with a new toy about her cuntlet ...

. she has to use one hand to investigate it even while she's playing with me. She likes it so much, she tells me, that she can't keep from playing with herself all the time. But Billie, she says, tells her that a little bare figlet like that isn't the playing kind. It's not the fucking kind, either ... . it's the kind you eat... ...

She likes Billie, oh yes, she thinks that Billie's great. Billie's almost like a man sometimes, when she gets rough in that playful way she has. Billie tells you to do something, and if you don't jump Billie makes you do it. Billie is very strong, especially in the legs ... . once she gets her thighs around you there's no escaping

... and she has lots of nice whiskers to rub in your face. Oh, Billie sees to it that you keep in line when you play tickle tail with her!

Of course she likes Jean too, but in really a different way. With Jean you know all the time that it's just playing, whereas with Billie ... that's all Billie wants, and she's dead serious about it. But then, Jean has such a soft, teasing way of boring her tongue into you... . She really thinks, Tania says, that every girl should live with a Lesbian for a while, even if she intends to marry and settle down and be a very nice girl afterward. Ernest was right ... the Lesbians will yet inherit the earth.

Tania crouches with her hands covering her figlet, watching me undress. Do I want her to suck my prick, she asks? I don't answer. Oh, then I must want to put my prick in ... . here! And she throws her legs open, both arms over her head. I'm on her before she can get her legs together again, my dong in one hand and my pants still held in the other... . .

 

John Thursday has a little trouble. When Tania had hair all he had to do was find the place where there wasn't any and run in ... . now there isn't any place, and he's lost. I pull her legs farther apart and take a look to refresh my geography. Jesus, no wonder Nature put hair on cunts ... one look at a thing like that would scare the piss out of you if you hadn't been in them before, if you didn't know that it was perfectly safe, no more dangerous than crossing a busy street. It takes a brave man to trust his cock to a thing that looks like that. The damned thing looks ravenous ... . snap-snap ... . and you're gobbled up.

Another thing ... . when there isn't a bush to keep it in the shade, fucking looks positively deadly. My dong hasn't a chance in the world of going into that tiny hole without splitting the works wide open ... a five year old child could see that ... . but neither Tania nor I is five years old, we're willing to give it a try ... . I give Tania a pinch on the ass and shove John T.'s nose against her tail when she jumps. He gets his head in and the rest of him crawls in like a snail going into its shell. I don't suppose that he really knows where he's going, but he seems to be in a hell of a hurry to get there... . .

Fucking Tania now is almost like fucking a grammar school girl, except that a grammar school girl wouldn't look quite so naked. My belly rubs her, and there isn't anything to rub but her bare skin. Between her legs there's nothing but slipperiness and a smell and a heat like a blast furnace. She's more naked than a plucked chicken, because a chicken would at least have pimples. But she's taking my dong the way she always has ... . like a grown woman, only more so, right up to the end.

Try to sound bottom on a bitch who really has a yen for fucking! There isn't any bottom, you could pay out prick to them like cable, and they'd always have room to tuck in an extra inch or so ... . . telescopic dicks, pricks that expanded and pricks that blew up like balloons ... . she just smiles sweetly at you and looks as though she were disappointed but too polite to mention it... . .

She puts her legs around me, gets a solid hold ... and zingo--she's slapped herself against me as smoothly as wallpaper. My cock is in her as deep as my arm, and it finally does succeed in squeezing a squeal out of her. Then she starts to wiggle, pulls my head down, and shoves her tongue into my mouth.

 

I know that it's only imagination, but that doesn't make it seem any less real when I taste cunt on her tongue. As long as it's only cunt I don't mind, so I let her go on running her tongue against the roof of my mouth while I screw her. It's a sweet, fruity flavor, not at all the fishy thing it smells like ... someday it will be found that this juice which women are so free with contains all the vitamins necessary to prevent falling hair ... if only because some excuse will have to be found to salve the conscience of the Americans who indulge.

I can't fuck Tania with my prick alone ... that bareness is too astonishing, I have to feel it, play with it, get my fingers into it. I put both arms around her, under her ass and between her thighs, playing with that spread open figlet while I ram my dong up it. I tickle her asshole, poke, squeeze, pinch ... . finally without taking my cock out, I have my fingers in her conillon too. Tania thinks that's grand ... not a peep, not a word ... . she wiggles all over the couch; she's like a live basket of snakes... . We roll over and over, and she never once lets those warm, bare legs loosen. I've got my cock in her, and she's taking no chances of having it taken away from there. We're the great gymnastic success.

Tania doesn't want me to forget those growing bubs she sports ... . she hasn't had them for very long, and she's proud as a pigeon about them. I've got to play with them; I must bite them, give the nipples a chew now and then or she'd feel that I didn't appreciate her. That's the one thing that Tania will sometimes stop fucking for ... . to have those teats of hers played with. Not for long, of course ...

ten minutes and she's had all she wants. She'll be back again to get your prick in her tail and take you for a ride. I suspect that she still believes that they'll only get big if they're played with, and I'm almost certain that she uses some kind of a supposed developer on them... Hell, I was older than she is when I tried that stuff on my prick ... . I thought at first that it worked, too, but later I decided that it was simply the massage ... jerking off, to be frank ... that accompanied the treatment... .

When Tania stretches her arms above her head and arches her back her teats almost disappear. She wants me to take my dick out of her ... but only for a minute ... while she does it.

"Look at me ... I'm just like I was when I was a little girl. Aren't you sorry that you didn't know me when I was a little girl? I'd have let you fuck me just the same ... yes I would! I was a pretty little girl, with long curls ... and I used to look every day to see if I had any hair down there ... . and now I have it I've shaved it off, isn't that silly?" She rolls over and looks down her shoulder at her ass. "But I didn't have such a big rear when I was little. It didn't have any dimples on it..."

We examine the dimples on her ass ... but I'm more interested in that dimple between the cheeks. I kneel behind Tania and she spreads her legs when she feels my dick back there... . .

"Put it in! Put your cock in my funny bare hole and screw me..." She hides her head in her arms, and her voice is muffled; "It's all bare and tiny ... you can pretend that I'm still a little girl when you fuck me..."

Tania can play her games with herself . . But I don't have to pretend ... she isn't much more than a little girl, any angle you look from, and from the rear, with only the pink split of her bonne-bouche showing, she's younger than ever. It seems disgraceful to fuck anything as young as that, but with her asshole winking up at him, Jean Jeudi is unmanageable.

From the way it stretches her rectum you'd think that Tania would be satisfied just to have Johnny's head in there ... . but she wants it all, the whole works, and she wants it bad... All the way in, she keeps howling ... . so in it goes, I'm not one to be stingy with what I've got. Then she wants me to play with her cuntlet ...

and if I won't, she'll play with it herself. She's going to give me lessons sometime, Tania says, on how to play with a cunt.

"I know all about playing with cunts," she tells me. "Big ones, little ones, hairy ones, fat ones ... . if you ever find any that you don't know how to handle, you bring them to me . . I'll show you."

Then ... no more talk, she's howling with a prickful of jism in her rectum, and she's coming. She hops like a cricket, with me after her with each jump, still screwing her ... I'm determined not to take my cock out of her ass, but she finally falls off the couch and gets away... .

"If you did that to Snuggles she'd be so frightened that she'd hide from you as long as her folks kept her in Paris," Tania says. "You must promise not to fuck her that way if I get her for you."

 

I still have a hard on, and Tania plays with my dong to try to keep it that way.

She lies on her back and diddles me, and I can see the jism and juice squeezing out of her bald figlet. Clam broth... . .

Tania wants to know all about Snuggles' mother and me. I have fucked her, haven't I? No answer to that. Well, do I fuck her the way I have just fucked Tania? Does she suck me off? Have we played tete-beche? Does she have as nice a shape as Tania's mother? But I'm not talking... Tania can make enough of a mess without any information. Very well, she says ... . but I needn't think that it's a secret. Snuggles is keeping her eyes open; she'll know things soon enough.

"Does she know that you've been fucking around with her father?" I ask.

Tania's astonished to find that I know about that. How did I find out? Through Ann? Tania grabs my dong as though she might tear it off ...

"Did he tell his wife about it?" she demands. "Does she know what we did?"

I'm not talking about that, either, and Tania is annoyed. How is she to know how to act if she doesn't know these things?

"He gave me a check, just as though I were a whore," Tania says. "But I didn't cash it yet because I didn't want to buy anything."

Then she wants me to have the check. She'll pass it right over, so that I can buy something I want. If she's to be paid off like one of those girls from the hotels she might as well act like them and hand her money over to some man, she sighs. And wouldn't I have a time trying to explain that to Sam ... . my signature on that check! I suppose that what I ought to do is try to get it away from her and give it back to Sam ... but the money doesn't mean anything to him, and he has eased his conscience a little, so to hell with it. I tell Tania to shove it up her ass and paste it there, the first money she ever earned. She will, she says, if I'll wrap it around my cock and do the shoving.

Still I want to know if Snuggles understands about Tania and her father.

Tania takes a long time in getting to the point, which is that she hasn't said anything about it yet. She's saying it, she smiles, saying it to find out just how Snuggles feels about her father. If he wants to screw Tania, he must have a certain feeling abut Snuggles too, don't I think so? Who knows ... perhaps they're pining away for each other... .

 

That bitch! I can see that she's already engineering another mix-up there. I feel sorry for the Backers ... if this filthy cuntlet gets on their tail there's no telling what may happen. They'll take more than Backer's art collection back to America with them...

Tania's tickling her tail with my dong. She'd have it in herself in a minute, but I pull her to the edge of the couch. She lies there on the edge, with her ass balanced and her thin legs out straight and apart. Her feet are on the floor and her fig as wide as a barn door. She doesn't move ... she stays that way and lets me put my prick in and screw her... . .

"Snuggles is going to be jealous when I tell her," she says ... .

"Why in Jesus' name do you have to tell her?"

Tania doesn't say ... . perhaps she doesn't know the answer herself. She wiggles closer to the edge of the couch in order to get my cock all the way in, and she plays with her teats, shaking them under my nose... ...

"I'm going to see later ... I think I'll take her to my room and make her lick me.

Yes, that's what I'll do... . . I'll make her suck my con, and I'll rub all that jism in her face and on her nose, and I won't tell her what it is until later, after she's sucked me. Then I'll tell her that you were screwing me and that she's been eating your jism. Oh, big Jean Jeudi ... get in, get far in ... and make lots of jism in me, because I'm going to make a pretty little girl eat it all up later... ."

 

At Backer's hotel ... . the bell-boy doing his best with his kitchen English!

"We not 'ave the Humanity, sir We have the Intransigeant and Paris-Soir."

"No," says Backer, "I want the Humanity, it has a good name. Humanity, it means, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I like its name; I want that paper. Order it for me tomorrow. "

Off goes the boy, hugging his tip, and in a minute the porter is saluting us.

The porter is very dignified, very certain that he can handle the situation.

"Excuse me, sir. The boy tells me that you want the Humanité. You will not like that paper, sir. Will I order the Matin?"

 

"No, I want the Humanité. I like the name. The French are admirable people, a great revolutionary people... . I came here because I admire their free spirit. I want to get your paper about humanity."

The porter looks cautiously, heavily, about. It's impossible to tell what he imagines Backer to be, but I know he doesn't approve of me or Carl.

"Je vous demande pardon, monsieur, but it is not about humanity ... . it is about politique. It is for working people."

"Well, I work, you work ... get it. Get it in the morning."

"Monsieur!" the porter cries desperately, "you don't understand! It is the journal of the reds!"

This could go on for hours, but Carl catches sight of Severin, the bozo we are here to meet. He represents, so Carl has told me, various large and unnamed interests. Through Carl he's been trying to jockey some scheme with Backer, and Carl is beside himself. All his life Carl has been waiting to be in on one of these deals, the scandalous money-making schemes of which you hear whispers and speculation in the Bourse cafes.

Severin is really the man that Carl would like to be. Handmade shoes, a beautiful dental plate, a pocket full of Corona-Coronas and a gold lighter to touch them off with, the ruddy complexion of a man who eats and drinks well and reestablishes the balance with months spent bobsleighing at St. Moritz. He and Sam spent twenty minutes in feeling each other out, sizing each other up ... .

they're like two people tactfully trying to decide if they should spend a weekend someplace or simply run to a hotel for a quick fuck... ...

Perhaps they're showing off a bit for Carl. At any rate, he's left completely in the cold while they're establishing a common plane to work on. Severin, since he heard the last part of Backer's little joke with the porter, begins to talk about recent riots. They called out the Republican Guard and two Negro regiments, he tells Backer.

"The old Roman way ... . suppress the Romans with provincials, the barbarians with Romans. Oh, the French are wise in their way as the British in their particular brand of politics. Usually an attempted coup d'état is sufficient to rout the questions in the French mind. Lagny and Stavisky almost brought the state down ... . the coup of the sixth of February was nicely managed to make people forget about both. But now ... . the people are beginning to feel that Stavisky wasn't the only speculator in France, merely the most exhibitionistic.

And the French, like all Latins, are mad gamblers ... . . one-tenth lottery tickets when they're poor, Bayonne bonds when they're rich."

Backer and Severin agree on the venality of the French press soon after that beginning, and Severin's plan begins to shape.

"The point is," says Severin, "everyone nowadays wants to get something for nothing ... . that's why there'll never be communism anyhow. But the French are the only people who study how to lose money on the Stock Exchange. Every newspaper here runs its financial page, and there are dozens and dozens of little daily and weekly sheets giving Bourse tips and notations. But take the English ...

they're mad about horse-racing... ."

"Even the workshops have their weekly sweepstakes," Carl interrupts eagerly.

It's pitiful to see him trying to edge his way into this thing, and I don't see why he doesn't either leave or shut up.

"You see chalked up in a few places," Severin continues, "'Shining Light to win the 2:30,' but what do you have for information sheets? The tipsters' envelopes, very dear, and a couple of bi-weekly or weekly sheets. In France the local financial news comes out every day."

"You do the Teutonic countries an injustice," Backer puts in. "You forget that they can't read or write ... if they could, they'd undoubtedly read the newspapers.

I tell you they're smart. When you hear a bus conductor figuring out how he'll win fifty pounds through five races with an initial outlay of a tenner, you realize that was the race of Newton. I hold that the people are the unexplored mines of intelligence of the country."

"I don't think so. If they were smart you couldn't get money out of them, and we wouldn't be sitting here. If they weren't dumbbells could any business man make a living? But as I was saying, the French Bourse gamblers will read any tip, good or bad, and any sheet, no matter how suspect and despite any rumors concerning it, because of a third fact ... . the incredible venality of the parliamentarians and the judiciary ... . they always assume that these little sheets can get information from high sources through sheer blackmail. And even if they are pool papers, the little speculator thinks he might as well lie in the pool. He reasons that the minister giving information may or may not be telling the truth ... in either case the rumor will lead to a change in the market, and he may as well get in at the beginning and out again before the ripple dies out ... .

the same with a ramp. It may be a canard, they think, but someone owns it and someone will pluck it ... I'm smart enough to get some too. It's a republican sentiment, you see...

Carl nods wisely. You'd think that he was an old market juggler ... if you mentioned American Can to him he'd look around for the girl from the States ... .

"The fourth point of my plan," goes on Severin, "is based on the fact that the French press hates to pay for cables. They'll print bad news, a week old ... .

they'll crib, steal, invent, anything to get out of paying cable service."

"And Havas?" Sam asks.

"I'd pay Havas part of the boodle, that goes without saying. The point is I'd have New York backing from Wall Street pool workers."

"Well, you'd need just one paper. You could buy some cheesy, bankrupt sheet, spread the rumor through the red light and Bourse cafes that the backer was Wall Street, and make a rip-roaring success overnight. You've only to start the fashion ... the other papers will pick up your information and advertise it for you."

"No. To sell the shares en masse we've got to have all the financial papers behind us. This thing has to be good, good enough to catch all the suckers, to draw all the good coins out of the famous country wool stockings, out of old maids' cotton bosoms, out of funds held in trust by family lawyers. I don't want only the smart alecs who take a flyer, the beachcombers who wait for a turn in the tide, the wise guy who cut a loss and cut a profit ... . I want investment money... ."

In other words Severin's idea is to pose as a private cable service while buying the cable service from one of the companies. Another of his ideas is that his gang will call themselves a Committee of Economic Survey or some shit like that, pack the advisory board with big names.

Carl is frowning at his cigar to keep from grinning. His face lights up at the mere thought of money, and this thing has him almost hysterical. Perhaps he expects Backer to rush immediately to the bank while Severin goes off to rent the offices, because he's disappointed when the conference breaks up with nothing definite having been done.

Sam and Severin are to meet again, Severin shares a taxi with us as far as the Capucines. We drop Carl off a few blocks farther on. Then Sam and I are on our way to Alexandra's... ... . Snuggles is supposed to be there and it makes a good opportunity for Sam to meet Alexandra. He's still worried about Tania.

"Do you think that there's any chance that she might have become frightened and said something to her mother?" he asks again. "I don't want to walk into any trouble, you know. You've known her mother a long time, haven't you? Is she all right?"

I spend the rest of the ride in reassuring him, but he's nervous when we stop at Alexandra's. If there's any trouble, he says, he's going to leave everything to me... ...

Snuggles isn't there, and neither is Tania. They've already gone back to Backer's hotel, and they're probably out for the evening by now. Alexandra asks us to come in... . .

Sam beams at first sight of Alexandra. He hadn't expected her to be such a good-looking cunt. He pouts up and begins to show off his feathers like a pigeon, and his efforts aren't exactly wasted. Alexandra warms up to him right away.

"Say, she's wonderful," Sam exclaims as soon as we're alone. "You never told me she was like this. She likes me, don't you think? And she knows what it is about her that I like ... watch how she shows it off! Tell me, what kind of a woman is she really? Is there a chance of going to bed with her?"

It's no use for me to stay around in an atmosphere like that, but I want to be sure of how things stand before I leave Backer alone with her. After a lot of jockeying around I manage to get a few minutes alone with Alexandra. We stand in the hallway and she lets me feel her up ... . even lets me take John Thursday out and rub his nose between her legs. But she doesn't want me to put my cock all the way into her cunt.

"I wouldn't want you to take it out again for a long time," she says, pushing me away and putting my prick farther down on her thighs, where the juice is wetting her. "And I can't be rude to my other company ... . we'd better go back now."

 

"He wouldn't mind if you were rude to him for a while if you were rude to me too, later," I tell her. "He wants to screw you."

Oh what have I been up to now? Yes, what have I been telling the charming Mr. Backer about her? Does he know that I lived with her? And do I perhaps think now that I'm free to bring my friends and offer her to them ... . as though she were my wife, perhaps? So I have to explain that Backer knows nothing at all about her except that she is Tania's mother, and that all he knows about her is what he can see ... . which is plenty to make a man want to fuck her.

Alexandra stands there and we play with each other while she thinks this over... Does Mr. Backer have a wife as well as his pretty daughter? Oh yes, she's heard the girl mention her mother. Then, is his wife pretty, are men attracted to her? And lastly ... how well do I know his wife?

I answer all but the last question ... Alexandra pretends not to notice the omission ... She's very ... . filled with yearnings, she tells me. Yes, she'd like a fucking tonight, and if I had come alone we should have had a wonderful evening. But since I have my friend with me it will have to be abandoned, for she does certainly not intend that the two of us should screw her. And something else she will tell me ... if my friend had come alone ... perhaps she would have allowed him to stay. Either one of us, do I see? Yes, that's how badly she wants to go to bed with a man, to get a cock into her con... . But not two ... no, never... . Since her experience with Canon Charenton she has seen that one must be discreet... .

.

Back I go to talk to Sam. It's all right, I tell him. I've been sounding her out, and I think she'll let him fuck her... She likes him, I tell him, and I make up a lot of pretty things that she didn't say. So now it's up to him ... . all he has to do is remember that she really wants him to screw her and not be afraid to go after it.

As for myself, I have a date, and I will leave now. I don't tell him that my date is with his wife... . .

 

Ann thinks that my apartment is very quaint and very cozy. Everything about it is so private, she says ... she doesn't know about the parades that troop in and out of here at the most inappropriate times. Such a place would be just the thing for a woman who wished to conduct an affair, wouldn't it? And are there many such in the neighborhood? Of course she was merely wondering... . .

Ann wants to know Paris better, and she has a list of questions as long as your arm. Where is this? Where does one find that? Which is the best neighborhood for thus and so? And for this first half hour that she's in my place she sits and scribbles into a notebook all the answers. She still has a lot of Paris to see before she goes home, she exclaims, and she wants to know the city from all angles. Now, Where does one buy those awful postcards?

I tell her where she can buy dirty pictures... . Although how she's been here as long as she has and not met the hawkers I don't know. Then she wants to know if they are actually as bad as they're supposed to be ... . or are they just ...

risqué? She's never seen any, of course... Well, would she like to see some. Oh, I have some? Now, that's embarrassing ... . but she supposes that it's part of life.

Yes, she ought to see them; one's education should be well rounded ... ...

I show her the ones of Anna, give her the whole handful of them and let her go through them. She blushes as soon as she glances at the first one. Oh ... they are rather strong, aren't they? She looks at them all very quickly and then looks at them all again, very slowly... . She becomes warm, glances at the fireplace, and loosens her sweater. She drinks many glasses of wine...

Getting her out of her clothes after that isn't very hard at all. A few feels and she's ready for anything ... . or so she thinks. Once I've got my hand under her skirt it's clear sailing. She spreads her thighs when I feel them up and lets me take off her pants without as much as a raised eyebrow. And she's really gotten into the spirit of those pictures, the bitch ... . she's so juicy between the legs that her pants are soaked, and that big cunt of hers is like a firebox.

Perhaps I would have preferred her to wear a girdle, she asks? She thought of it when she was dressing, but it seems so perverted to wear such an article of clothing only because it was sexually exciting... . Still, if I would like her to, she'll always wear one of them after this, even with sport clothes... .

 

I'm satisfied with her the way she is ... . that big ass of hers is enough to give my cock a stiff neck, with or without the girdle. Leaving her stockings and shoes on make it seem bigger than ever...

 

Ann rolls back and forth on the couch while I feel her up. Oh, what would Sam think, what would he do, if he saw her now! She sticks her fist into my pants and grabs my dick. What would Sam think! This is really shameful of her

... coming here to be fucked by me, leaving poor Sam to himself. She ought to be at home screwing her husband rather than here giving it to me... . . I don't disillusion her ... but by my reasoning Sam and Alexandra ought to be very good friends by now.

Ann pulls my pants down and plays with my bush. Oh, that hair! She runs her fingers through it and tickles my balls. When has she ever seen so much hair, she exclaims! And do I know what it makes her want to do? It makes her want to lay her head down by it ... . yes, put her very cheek upon it... But after telling me that, she gets coy. I finally have to grab her and hold her head down...

...

It bristles, she complains ... but it's a nice bristling, she adds soon enough.

Would her hair bristle my cheeks, she wonders ... She's sure that it's very soft ...

. I'm fairly certain that the pictures of Anna playing tete-beche with her boyfriends have stuck in Ann's mind, but she's afraid to say so or even to think of sucking my prick. I put my arms around that huge behind of hers and put my head against her thighs. She wiggles ... she's so hot that she can't talk straight ...

. but still she's afraid to put that thing into her mouth... .

Hell, I could make her take it, I suppose... . Almost any cunt, if she's hot enough, will open her mouth when she feels the end of a cock shoved against her lips ... . but I want her to take it herself ... or think that she's taking it herself. I begin to lick her belly and thighs ... . she spreads her legs and kisses my belly shyly. I'm moving my hips as though I were slowly fucking ... and Ann is doing the same thing.

These cunts! How they love to get something for nothing! Ann would like nothing better right now than to have me stick my tongue into that axe-split and try to lick it dry, but she doesn't want to get any more familiar with my prick than she already is... . But I can be as stubborn as she is... . I lick around the edges of her cunt, bite her thighs, tickle her mop with my nose. When I come very close to her fig she whispers excitedly ... there ... . kiss it there ... . why don't I put my tongue out now... Oh, we must look just like those awful people in the pictures, mustn't we? Yes, we're doing almost what they were doing... . .

Finally I let her get a taste of what she wants to feel. I kiss her squarely on the cunt, slide my tongue over the lips and in ... . her thighs swing wide, like a double gate that will never close again, and she gasps when I suck the juicy, hot fruit... . Oh, what a feeling! I mustn't stop again! My tongue can go in deeper ... I can suck harder ... . she'll spread her legs further ... . She's trying to wring John Thursday's neck, but she still isn't sucking him... . .

She can't believe that I've stopped again. How ... oh, how could I stop when it makes her feel so good? Here ... . she'll lie another way to make it easier for me...

And this is how she'll play with my prick while I do it ... . Isn't that all right? Why don't I begin again? Oh, why don't I put my mouth on her cunt and suck it some more!

 

She pulls her head away when I rub my dong on her mouth. The second time she lets me do it ... then she kisses it. What is it that I want her to do, she whispers? As though she didn't know, as though she hadn't the least notion of what it was that I expect! Do I want her to kiss my balls as well as my belly? Is that it? She'll do that if I want her to. And so on.

You can stand just so much of that shit. Imagine a woman with a daughter as big as Snuggles, a cunt who's been married as long as Ann has, pretending that she doesn't know that you want your cock sucked! I decide to give her one more chance ... . . then, if she doesn't open her mouth when she opens that cunt of hers, I'm going to put my foot in one or the other and my prick in what's left. I begin to lick her fig, and I roll on top of her, jabbing my dong in her face.

Suddenly I feel her tongue on it ... she opens her mouth and takes Johnny's head in... . Then she has both of her arms around my waist and she's sucking as hard as she can ... I'll give her all she can handle... . .

Ann isn't as well equipped to take a cock in that end as she is to take it in the other ... . she chokes, but she hangs on to it grimly. Her cunt is open so wide that whatever is inside ought to be falling out, but nothing happens ... she must be well stitched together in there. She may not have a cast iron belly like Tania or Anna, but she's solidly anchored. That's another way in which the American amateurs have it all over Parisian professional whores ... . you can turn them upside down without worrying about having their wombs drop out on the floor... .

.

Ann wants me to tickle her rectum while I suck her fig. She hasn't noticed, apparently, that I already have two fingers shoved up her ass ... I stick another one in and she's happy. I act as though I were trying to eat her cunt, she giggles... . She doesn't know that it's because I'm afraid that that big mouth will eat me... ...

I could have come almost as soon as Ann took John T. into her mouth ... . I've been keeping it back because I want her to be all ready to cone when she finds her mouth full of jism. I wait until I'm sure that she's on the very edge, until she's trying to smother me with her thighs and drown me with her juice ... . She's got an ant up her ass and a fire in her belly, and if Sam himself were to walk in now she wouldn't be able to stop. Then, when she's like that, I let John Thursday have his way about things.

Everything stops for the briefest moment. Ann looks panicky ... . she can't believe that she's really sucked me oft and it's a terrific shock to her. Still the jism keeps coming into her mouth, and she doesn't know what to do about it. I yell at her to swallow it ... . threaten to stop sucking her cunt if she doesn't. I run my tongue along the inside of those bushy tips, and Ann suddenly makes up her mind. Down goes the full dose, all at once, and she's still sucking my prick. I put my mouth on her bonne-bouche again, and she's coming too ... . she's losing juice by the quart... . .

As soon as she can talk Ann says that she isn't going to come to my apartment again. No, this time she has gone too far ... . much too far. Do I realize that she has a husband who believes in her, a little girl who simply adores her?

She has to think of them. Oh, a wife and mother can't act like this! The time for such adventures is past ... a woman of her age, and in her circumstances, is mad to embark upon such seas, etc. etc... .

She wants to leave at once, but I won't allow it. I persuade her to stay for another glass of wine, then a second. She picks up the pictures again. The ones of Anna sucking various pricks and having her cunt licked seem to attract her more than before. Such depravity as there is in France ... . it must be something in the atmosphere. Certainly she has never done anything such as that which we have done tonight ... do I understand?

I understand perfectly I assure her ... . and now if she will come into the bedroom ... or does she prefer the couch? She thinks the couch is very nice, but she really shouldn't... . . Poor Sam... . Poor Sam ... . it isn't right for her to deceive him so ... ... and she rolls onto her back and spreads her legs... ... . .

 

Carl thinks that I ought to do something to influence Backer in this Severin deal. There's money in it, he assures me, money for everyone who's connected with it, and he and I could each pick up a nice bit of change just by kissing a few asses. Carl has kissed asses for so long now that he doesn't really know that he does it ... ... he thinks he's a magician pulling rabbits from a hat. Carl has a hard time making a living the easy way... ... .

He's a royalist, is Carl, and he believes in patronage. How the hell else, he wants to know, is someone like him going to make a living? That's a hangover from the year he spent at the Beaux-Arts. They kicked him out, but they forgot to let the hot air out ... . they turned him loose talking cinquecento, Renaissance, Great Pandora and Little Pandora, the Genius of France ... . . all of which comes straight from the crummy crowd hanging around the Deux-Maggots, where they read Action Française, the deadest sheet on earth... . .

Anyway Carl thinks that I have the advantage of influence--or at least proximity, to Sam... ... .

"What the fuck do you talk about all the time when you're running around to these joints?" he demands. "Don't you have any ideas at all? Why this is your golden opportunity ... . there are a thousand ... a million ways to make money.

Do you mean that you never talk about money? Why Jesus, you could even make a nice piece of graft of those dumps you take him around to ... he wouldn't mind if he was overcharged a little ... hell, he wouldn't even notice it... ."

We are interrupted by Raoul, who says that he has been looking for me for days, and who has a funny story to tell us. It happened to a friend of his, he is careful to explain ... . a friend whose name he will not mention since he would not know it anyway... . But Raoul looks so relieved when he has finished the story that I'm sure the friend is himself... . .

 

"She was just a little girl ... . you know, a very little girl, and my friend had a very good time in teaching her all the things that a little girl of that age certainly should not know. Then she goes away ... perhaps my friend pays her something to go to the movies ... . . and it is all over. It's to be forgotten, or perhaps just to be remembered sometimes when he doesn't have a woman and has to play with himself... But in three weeks the girl is back. My friend has to do something ...

well, what is wrong? Why, she is pregnant ... she is going to give him a baby unless something is done. Pregnant? Impossible! Oh, horrible. And my friend is very disturbed... Finally he thinks to ask ... how does she know she is pregnant?

Has she been to a doctor ... has she been talking to her mother about it? No ... .

no ... but she is bleeding. Bleeding? Where? Ah, well, where do women bleed? He puts her on the bed and pulls up her dress ... it is only a monthly that the little girl is having. So my friend gives her a towel to tie around herself and gives her some money to go to the movies again. No more little girls for him! What the fuck do you think of that?

Since neither Carl nor I finds it so funny as Raoul believes it to be, he turns the subject to his sister-in-law. She is out of Paris, now, he says ... . too had, but she will be back again, I'll get my chance to take her to bed. In the meantime, he would like to meet some nice Spanish girl, someone he could practice the language on. But one who wouldn't want money, he is quick to add. Do I know any nice Spanish girl who doesn't have the clap or bad-tempered brothers? One who earns her own living would be nice, and a whore would be especially nice, he says ... I tell him that I don't know any Spanish girls any more, but that Ernest might have one or two that he doesn't want any longer ... I'll find out. Raoul is very grateful ... he buys Carl and me a drink and gives us cigarettes. Any girl will do, he insists any one will do at all, just so long as she doesn't have a disease and has most of her front teeth ... ... .

Later on, when I've given Carl the shake and Raoul has gone off to the funeral of one of his many relatives, I meet Sam. He's feeling very gay, he's full of talk about Alexandra.

What a woman! Oh, what a woman, the mother of the little girl! Do I know, he stayed at her house all night, didn't get home until nine in the morning! Of course he had to tell Ann something ... . so he told her that he was out with me.

 

If she asks me anything about it I can tell her some story of getting into a card game... .

I can't tell him that it was a mistake to tell Ann that, any more than she can tell him that she knows he's shitting her. And besides, he's so excited about Alexandra that he probably wouldn't hear anything I said.

"She knows how to fuck!" he tells me. "Lord, does she know about fucking! Alf, you hadn't been gone a half hour before we were at it! Honestly! Hell, you know how those things happen ... . one minute you're talking and having a drink, next minute you're putting your hand under her dress... ."

We stop while Sam wakes up a bum who's asleep in a doorway and gives him five francs. He waves away a woman who comes up whining, head wrapped in a shawl, skinny hand extended.

"'We'd better go upstairs,' she said," Sam goes on, "so up we went to her bedroom ... just like that! Isn't that a hell of a thing, though ... . going there to see what she's like because of that business with her daughter and ending up in bed with her? First the daughter, then the mother ... oh Lord! And let me tell you something ... you remember what I told you about the girl? That she sucked my prick? Well, so did her mother ... what do you think of that? Yes sir, the first time she ever saw me, and I didn't have the slightest trouble in getting her to do it! By God, Alf, I don't know whether I want to go back to the States or not ... when there's cunt like that in Paris. The only thing is, now I don't know about the daughter ... I'm not so sure that I want Snuggles running around with her... ...

Sam worries about this for a few minutes, but he comes back to Alexandra and what a wonderful cunt she is. She read him poetry he says, in between times, and he wants me to guess how many times he screwed her.

"Four!" he says triumphantly. "Oh, maybe that doesn't seem to mean much to you now, but wait ... . wait until you're my age and you'll see. Especially if you're married, if it's the same woman every night. You don't fuck a woman four times a night when you've been married fifteen, twenty years... Russian love poems ...

and Chinese, too ... . did you know that she speaks Chinese? Well, she does ... at least, she said it was Chinese... . Why the Hell didn't I come to Paris when I was twenty? What was wrong with me then? But maybe it's just as well that I didn't

... . I wouldn't have appreciated it ... just as you don't appreciate it yet. How old are you, about forty? Listen, take my advice, go back to America and make a million dollars, then come to Paris and live for the rest of your life... But don't get married ... don't get married, whatever you do, because you can always find plenty of nice cunts like this Alexandra to read you poetry and suck you off if you have a million dollars... ."

The advice is good, but Sam doesn't think to tell me how to make the million.

He has bigger things on his mind.

"I'll never forget what she looked like when she got her clothes off, and was lying there on the bed showing her cunt and waiting for me to do something about it. She wasn't backward about asking for it, either ... only she was saying it in Russian. What a hell of a language to talk about fucking in! I'd rather hear her speak French ... at least I can get the sense of what things are about. But when she looked at my cock, spread her legs, and looked at me through her knees, she could have used any language and it would have sounded the same... ."

"Suppose," Sam says later when we're in a bar, "that I might have expected her to be like that. After all if the girl is so easy, the mother must have hot pants too ... . it's in the blood. But listen, Alf, I'm going to be seeing a lot of Alexandra from now on ... so any time that I call you up and say something about a card game, you'll know that I'm going to be out all night and want you to cover me up with Ann. Just tell her anything if she asks you about it ... she won't be interested enough to ask for details."

"Look, Sam, I'm not so sure about this... ."

"Oh, nonsense. It's all right, I tell you. All you have to do is remember that you and I go out and play poker sometimes. By God, Alf, I came to Paris to have some fun ... . you're not going to let me down, are you?"

"No, I don't want to let you down, Sam, but still I don't think... . ."

"Well, hell, if that's the way you feel, all right ... I suppose I can get Carl to do it;... ."

"No wait a minute, Sam, don't get me wrong ... ... I didn't say that I wouldn't do it ... I was just... ."

"Then let's have another of these and forget about it. Hey, Alf, listen to my accent, see if I say this right ... Garçon! La même chose! How was that? Better?"

 

Sam is doing all right ... he's learned to ring with his spoon ... to call an order across the terrace so he can be heard without seeming to call hogs ... even his accent is right, at least for ordering drinks. Now he wants to know all the forms of the verb foutre... . .

 

Ann has rented a few rooms in my neighborhood, and she gets me out of bed one morning to come and see them. I don't know why the concierge can't be trained not to let anyone in before noon, but the most astonishing assortment of people are allowed to walk up the three flights to my place at any time of the day or night. Anyway, I'm allowed to stop a few minutes for breakfast, for which I am thankful.

Ann has found herself a regular little nest, a real hideaway, tucked up under the eaves of a rickety old joint a few blocks from my place. And it's very cheap, very very cheap, she tells me again and again while she shows me around, explains how things work. They told her that Verlaine lived here once, she says, that it was here he wrote some of his finest sonnets. Do I believe that? I tell her that I suppose he did ... . after all, the poor son of a bitch had to live someplace, and only a broke poet or a million-dollar American ass could afford the atmosphere of a hole like this.

She decided to rent it, Ann confides, the morning after she came back from my place. Where do I suppose Sam was while she was there being fucked? Where?

Shit, I don't tell her ... well, she doesn't know either, but she knows that he wasn't playing cards with me ... not when I was screwing her all evening.

"Yes, that's what he told me ... that you and he were out playing cards! And he simply reeked of some other woman! Well, I'll show him! Two can play that sort of a game ... so I'm going to have this place to come to and do exactly as I choose...

."

She shows me how she's fixing it up ... nothing fancy, because she won't keep it very long, but very bohemian. She wants some dirty pictures to hang on the walls ... do I know anyone who does that sort of thing well? She wants watercolors, she thinks, perhaps an engraving or two in the seventeenth-century style. And she's going to have albums of those photographs which one can buy ...

. in short, a whole cozy part of her life will be tucked away here... ...

 

Who's going to come here, I want to know... Well ... friends ... or perhaps no one. It's just to have a place, do I see? She might use it only to put Sam out ... let him find out that she has it, and then try to find out what goes on here. She'll teach him to bring her such stories about card games!

Something else comes up ... . do I know where Sam might have been that night? I? Of course not! Perhaps he really was playing cards with someone, perhaps it was only an accident that he said he'd been with me instead of somebody else. Ann merely sniffs at that. He was with a woman, she insists ...

it's not hard for another woman to tell... . .

I'm all for putting the place to use right then and there, but Ann avoids it. It's all right if I feel her up a little bit, if I raise her skirt and slap my hand on her bush while we're talking, but that's as far as she'll let things go. No, she tells me, it's no use to take that thing out of my pants because she isn't going to do anything about it ... she won't even touch it ... . well ... she'll feel it just a bit, but nothing else. She won't take off her pants and she won't let me take mine off, so there's no use hanging around there after we've seen the place. Besides, I have things to do, so I put her into a taxi and send her back to her husband for lunch... .

There's nothing doing at the office, so I spend some time composing letters to the editor, which I will post on my way out with company stamps. I suppose that some of them are printed occasionally ... I never think to look... .

At two I meet Ernest and Arthur at a place where, if you don't like the food and aren't drinking, you can go upstairs and lay the proprietor's wife ... hence, a most respectable place, because none of the whores will go there ... it's unfair to their trade, they complain ... certainly they don't try to sell you something to eat when you take them to a hotel. But it's a quiet place to sit when you don't want to be disturbed ... . without any whores there aren't any journalists either.

Ernest wants to know what about all the rumors he's heard about me. Is it true that I'm taking some American around, showing him all the whorehouses so that he can go back to America and open a big chain? Is it true that some nutty art collector has lost his daughter and we're going through the sewers of Paris looking for her? Is it true that I'm working with some bunch of American financiers to start a new paper which I will edit? Well, what the fuck is true?

 

"You shouldn't disappear that way Alf," he says. "I've tried to find you a couple of times ... we've been taking Anna out and fucking her, but you never were around."

Perhaps it's just as well that I wasn't around ... Arthur has been playing with that Kodak he bought, and he has a mess of some of the rattiest pictures I've ever seen ... . Anna and Ernest, Sid and himself with their pants down and their pricks up . . I'm not so sure that I'd care for that kind of advertising even if it is strictly private.

"I only show them when I'm trying to make some virgin," Arthur explains fondly as he puts the pictures away. "You see, the way these pictures came out, it looks as though I had a prick twice as big as anybody else... ."

I remember that Raoul wanted to meet a Spanish cunt, and I ask Ernest about it. Hell yes, Ernest knows plenty of Spanish cunts; what kind does Raoul want?

"Listen," he says, "I've got one that's a real Spanish Fly ... ... one bit of her and your cock stays stiff for a week. What does he have to trade?"

"Aw, now look, Ernest, he don't want any trades ... . all he wants is to meet some nice cunt ... he'll do the rest."

"No trade? Oh, hell then ... I couldn't help him out. No, Alf, any time I hand over a cunt I have to get something back. Doesn't he have a jackknife?"

"He has a sister-in-law."

"I don't know, Alf. Sisters-in-law are mighty undependable ... . you have to know your people pretty well. Besides, you know these Spanish cunts yourself.

Didn't I get a knife just because you threw one over too fast? You can't give these spics the go-bye, just pass them around the way you can an American girl or a Russian. They don't have the temperament, you're taking a chance with them."

 

"Well, Jesus, Jesus, Ernest, look at some of the things I've done for you... .

Didn't I fix it up for you with Tania? Yes, and her brother too ... . and how about Anna? My God, isn't it time that you did something for me? It isn't as though I were asking you for some cunt that you really wanted or liked... ."

"Hold on now, Alf... where did you get the idea that I didn't want this cunt?

She's a fine cunt and she has an ass on her that broad. Why Christ, if I hand her over to this frog friend of yours, he'll never appreciate what he's getting. Shit, she'll lick his boots for him if he wants her to ... . any old boot will do ... she'll take it home and lick it there... ."

"Just so she fucks, that's all he wants. He isn't looking for anything fancy, Ernest... All he wants is somebody to go to bed with him and talk Spanish in her sleep."

Ernest finally says that he'll see what can be done about it. And when the Hell, he wants to know, is he going to meet my rich American friends? If he had any rich American friends he'd have introduced me long ago... Well, that's something I'll have to see about: maybe Sam and I will run into him in a cafe.

"Listen, to Hell with the husband. I want to meet the wife. You tell her that you have a friend who wants to show her Paris; the real Paris, the Paris of Villon, of Mallet, of Guy de Maupassant... Tell her I'll show her the Regecem where Napoleon played chess ... and Alexhine too, the champion ... does she like chess?

Does she like to eat? I'll take her to dinner ... she pays... . Oh, we'll have a fine time together! Tell her I'll take her to a place in the Place de l'Odeon called the

'Sucking Pig,' only in French, then to coffee on the boulevards ... perhaps the boul' Mich' where she can see the students... Listen, Alf you must be busy taking the husband around... . . I'll show her a good time: 'here you can get a lovely soft Chambertin; there they make an entrecôte Bercy ... oo, la, la!' Why not? Does she like books? I'll take her to the stalls ... there's a motherly old soul in a black apron ... and a shawl ... who left off drinking a bowl of bread soup to sell me Brantome's 'Gay Ladies' at thirty francs, the crook! My first day in Paris, too ... I want to get even with that old witch ... I'll take her to the Capucins and she can look at the Baron de Rothschild ... or maybe she knows the Baron. Does she like art? Look, you tell her that I have a lovely engraving in my hotel... . 'The Last Roll-Call of the Girondins in the Conciergerie' it's called ... Does she like politics?

We'll sit somewhere in the rue du 4 Septembre with La Verité under our arms and talk about Trotsky ... . look, I can say all the right things about politics... 'I believe that perpetual revolution is the only cure for thermidorian degeneration'

... . 'Without a Robespierre we will have no ninth thermidor' ... Does she like to listen to stuff like that? When am I going to meet her?"

"What about blackmail?" Arthur wants to know. "Maybe if Ernest took her around he could find out something that she doesn't want her husband to know."

 

Arthur would probably try to blackmail his grandmother for going to bed with his grandfather ... Ernest tells him that he should not talk that way ... . someone is liable to think he's serious and turn him over to the police!

"Just fix it so that I can meet that rich cunt." Ernest says, "I'll show her how to have fun again ... I'll make her young..."

 

Jean has been to my place and, finding me gone, left a note saying that she may be found in the bar around the corner. I go there and discover her at a table with a dark, tired-looking Lesbian who has been buying her Amer-Picons.

"They always hang around me," Jean says while we're walking back to my place. "Even if the place is full of women, you'll find all the Lesbians at my table.

It's as though I wore a little ticket ... . do you suppose they have some way of sniffing out each other's girl friends?"

No need to ask why Jean has come to see me ... she runs up the stairs ahead of me, wiggling her cute ass at me, hurrying a bit faster when I reach up to pinch it. She's looking for a lay, and those Amer-Picons have made her anxious to get it as soon as possible. While I'm finding the right key for the door she's tickling my crotch ... She intended to come and see me before this, she says, but Billie has kept her very busy ... . and she's had to be nice to Billie recently because of certain complications... ...

Is one of her complications named Tania, I ask? Ah... . . Tania, that very young, very bad, little bitch? Jean kisses me, running her tongue, which is sticky with the first glass of wine, over my lips and into my mouth. Yes, Tania has been complicating things ... . she and that other, that very, very young girl. They're both so young ... . and so pretty: but so bad and so complicating ... . .

Jean is wearing a sweater which is so tight that her nippies show ... and her skirt is so close around her hips that in front there is a bulge where her bush must be... Feeling her up with those clothes on is to feel her up with nothing on at all. You can really get acquainted with a cunt in an outfit like that ... . put your hand on her belly and you feel her navel; let it drop a little and you find a slit under your fingers... . She sits on my lap, and I've played with everything without even reaching under her skirt... . .

 

Jean tries to explain things to me. With Billie, she says, girls like Tania and the other one, Snuggles, are a vice. Like a man, Billie likes to get a very young girl and play with her, tell her pretty lies, and seduce her; make a bad girl of her.

It's a game, just like the one men play, getting them early, innocent and teaching them all manner of vice... . But in Tania, Billie has found competition ... that too-wise bitch is as imaginative, if not so clever, as herself, and she is corrupting the younger girl at an amazing rate. So Billie and Tania, competitors of a sort, play with Snuggles as girls play with a doll. They teach her all manner of dirty things because she is innocent ... . but when they lie together, Tania and Billie, they are wise and experienced; they play like grown cats play, not like kittens, warily, and sometimes showing their claws... . .

Which is not exactly the same story which Tania told me, but which helps to round off the picture of what is going on among that gang of cunt suckers. Jean plays in their games too, but she is still more of an observer than anything else ...

. because she's Billie's mistress. The etiquette of vice is very complicated... .

Jean has grown tired of being felt up. She pulls up her skirt and wraps one naked leg around me, feeling in my pants for something to tickle herself with.

When she gets my dong out she sticks it against her bush and, with both arms around my neck, sits and rocks back and forth while she faces me, sitting on my lap. She has a tiny pair of pants on, but my prick slides up under them and rubs back and forth against that hairy mouth ... . up and down, without ever going into it... .

She wants her teats played with. What good has it been for her to work on them all these years, plan for their future, give them the best of care, if I'm not going to play with them? So off comes the pullover sweater, under which there is nothing at all but Jean... That's how we're sitting when Tania comes to the door...

...

Jean knows it's Tania as soon as I do ... she always knocks in the same way.

But we haven't time even to pretend that we're not there, because Tania tries the door and finds it open. In she walks, and Jean and I are still there with our tails touching and our mouths open.

 

Well, well ... . Tania waltzes around the room... . . Romance, romance! She didn't know that she'd find anyone here, least of all, Jean ... She would have waited to be let in if she'd known I was entertaining.

Jean slides off my lap and pulls her skirt down. She's peeved because she feels that Tania will go back to Billie with a story, and she didn't want Billie to know that she was here today ... . I ought to use the snap lock on my door, she says... It wouldn't do any good ... . if Tania wanted to get in she could go out the hall window and over the roofs to my bathroom.

Tania hopped off my lap ... not bashful, surely? Not embarrassed? They do know each other, after all ... . the time for being embarrassed has gone past ...

Jean blushes as Tania becomes explicit ... .

"But Jean, you have sucked my con ... I've sucked yours... Why should we be embarrassed before each other? I've seen you do such worse things than this!

Oh, you should have seen her with Snuggles one night... ." (This to me.) "She became so excited that we couldn't make her stop sucking! And poor Snuggles ...

. she'd come, it was real torture to her to have Jean's tongue still pushing into her abricot, still licking all the wet, pink places..."

"We finally had to pull her off by strength," Tania says, "and let her take turns sucking the rest of us while we tickled her until she came... Oh, it would have taken more than an opened door to stop her then!" She sits on the arm of my chair; reaches for my cock and pets it. "And it would take more than an opened door to stop her if I had been doing what you were doing just now... ."

Jean doesn't like the familiar way in which Tania takes over John T. She pushes her aside and sits on me again, puts my hand under her skirt. If Tania is going to carry tales to Billie, she says, she may as well have a good story. She pulls her skirt up and shows her thighs ... she wants me to feel of them, and she says that she wants Tania to watch it ... . .

"See, I asked him to feel me up ... . you can tell Billie that, if you want to ...

you can tell her that I did it all myself, that I came here and asked him to screw me ... . and a lot of good it will do you!"

I try to pacify them ... I don't want a pair of squabbling cunts on my hands.

Now if everyone will just calm down and have a drink all this can be smoothed over... .

 

Jean says that it doesn't need any smoothing over ... it's all very simple ...

Tania wants me to fuck her and she wants me to fuck her. The choice is up to me... . .

Tania isn't disturbed. She's so accustomed to those fierce, Dostoevskian scenes at home that she probably considers this a mere slight difference of opinion. While Jean is still talking, Tania bends forward and kisses one of her lovely, bare bubs... If only she had teats like that, she sighs... ... She knows how to put Jean in a good humor ... within five minutes they're both on my lap feeling each other's bubs while I feel them both up... . .

I'm not going to complain. If they can settle their differences I'd just as soon lay both of them. With two strange cunts it wouldn't be easy to do that unless we all happened to be drunk, but these bitches know each other and they know me, and they're making each other hot with all the feeling up and playing that's going on.

Tania wants to gamble. A flip of a coin to settle matters, she suggests ... the winner to be licked by the loser and fucked. Jean is cautious ... she suspects a trick, and I don't blame her. But it's the only way to settle something like that without hard feelings.

Considered coldly, that's a hell of a thing to do ... to suck another woman's cunt merely because a coin came down one way instead of another. It's a bitch's gamble, and I feel relieved when Tania calls the spin wrong ... even though I know that Jean's bread and butter comes directly through her ability to suck a cunt well. Somehow Jean doesn't seem to be the right girl to lose that gamble.

Jean's out of her clothes quickly enough ... . and Tania too, for that matter.

They stand in the middle of the room and undress. Then, hand in hand, they tip-toe over to the couch. Hand in hand! That's what gets the... You'd think they were two girls on their way to school ... . they ought to have bonnets on their heads and baskets under their arms.

They make a swell show, those two. Jean has the shape; Tania looks like a miniature beside her. Two pink asses receeding across the room, two little bushes showing where there's something else which can't quite be seen ... it's a beautiful sight, especially when you know that both of those bitches belong to you, more or less, and I hope that I never forget what they looked like.

 

Jean lies on the couch. Tania sits near her knees, squeezing her legs. They both look over at me as though I were supposed to drop a handkerchief give the signal for the entertainment to begin. I sit there with a bottle of wine at my elbow, my feet propped on a stool, and my dong hanging out of my pants. I feel like Claudius... . .

Tania dips her fingers into her glass and sprinkles a few drops of wine over Jean's belly, over her thighs, and into her rosebush. The wine isn't sweet enough to her taste, she explains prettily ... then she bends over and picks up the drops with her tongue.

Jean is hot already, but in half a dozen minutes she's burning up. She's used to this stuff, it's the way she gets her pants warmed every night, and she likes it.

And Tania is no amateur ... . she lies and presses her little mop---that mop which is already growing back--against Jean's knee while she sucks her nipples and tickles her sides. Her fingers run up and down Jean's thighs ... . then she has one fist shoved between Jean's legs and is massaging her fig... She tickles Jean's bonne-bouche until her legs are spread, and the ends of her fingers become juicy.

John Thursday is standing out of my fly like a lopsided pole. He's bloated with importance, apoplectic with frustration. I take off my clothes to give him more air, to let the breeze run through his whiskers and cool him off a bit.

Jean has been lying on her back while Tania played with her. But Tania is kissing her thighs now, and Jean sits up to see it better. Tania teases ... . she puts her mouth almost on Jean's juicy abricot-fendu, but never quite touches it.

Jean becomes impatient ... suddenly she grabs Tania's head and shoves it between her thighs... ...

"Suck it, you little fiend!"

She's made no mistake. Tania is a fiend. Tania's arms go around her ass and her tongue disappears in Jean's traplet. With your eyes closed it would sound as though someone were sucking an orange, someone who hadn't had an orange for a long time. She sucks, she licks, she bites ... and everything she does makes both of them hotter. I'm afraid that Jean will come before I have a chance at her... . Hell, at this rate they'll both come in a few minutes... . .

But Tania knows when to stop. She hops up and shakes her hair out of her eyes, leaving Jean gasping and moving her legs back and forth. She bounces over to me and kicks my feet from the stool so she can kneel on it. The juice is really dripping onto her chin... Then she's kissing my prick, licking my balls ... . she slips off the stool and licks my toes ... she grabs my cock and puts it in her mouth, sticking her cunt-stinking fingers under my nose.

"Fuck her! Fuck her!" she howls ... and before I know what's happening she's jumped up and licked across my mouth, leaving the smell and taste of Jean's cunt on my lips... "Fuck her before she has to play with herself!"

Jean's legs are wide open when I jump on her ... and so is her cunt. Johnny rams his head into her without even looking, and he doesn't stop until he's all the way in. She has her knees up and her ass turned almost to the ceiling ...

when she fucks she wiggles all over; there isn't a part of her that is still... . . I'm not sorry now that Tania came bursting in on us ... . not when she's gotten Jean into such a state as this... .

Tania's delighted. Her eyes are big and shining, and she has parked her ass in the warm spot I left on the chair; she's diddling herself while she sits and watches us screw. If only her friend Snuggles could be here to see this, she exclaims! How much that little innocent one would like it! Poor Snuggles ... she has yet to know another cock besides Peter's ... . She's never seen a grown man screwing a girl... .

Tania has been carrying tales again ... Jean wants to know if the things Tania has told her are true. Do I fuck Tania's mother, as she says?

"Certainly he fucks my mother," Tania says indignantly. "And Snuggles'

mother, too! Yes he does! Snuggles won't believe me, but she'll find out... ."

And her brother, that effeminate ... is it true that when the mother takes a man to bed she takes the boy in with them and makes him suck her lover's prick? Oh, what a world! What a wicked family! Then I've had the boy suck my prick, the enormous prick which is in her now... What a revelation!

"I'll show you what Peter sometimes does," Tania says ... . and she's out of her chair; and on the couch with us. "And I do it sometimes when he's fucking my mother... ."

She's upon us, between us, under us ... she crawls about and wiggles through my arms like an eel... There's no holding her still, no pushing her aside. She licks Jean's teats, she licks my ass and bites Jean's ... . finally, as we lay on our sides, she's behind Jean with her arms around her waist.

Jean's thighs are kept apart, because I won't stop screwing her for long enough to throw Tania on her ass. She buzzes around us like a gadfly, but I'm too hot to swat her. Tania licks between Jean's thighs ... she licks my thighs and balls. There's nothing she won't do, the filthy bitch ... She kisses Jean's rectum

... . I can hear her lips smacking and I can hear her sigh. Her nose is in my crotch, my dong rubs it ... she's begging us to be still for just a moment ... . one small moment.

"Let her do it," Jean pleads. "Do what she asks ... I want to know what she'll do... ."

The couch stops bouncing. I have my dick half out of Jean's cunt, and Tania is kissing it. Her lips flatten on it, and she begins sucking it ... . then her mouth slides down and clutches Jean's fig too... . She's sucking both of us at once, and even though I begin to screw Jean again she won't stop. At last I can scarcely tell which lips I'm fucking and which are sucking my cock ... . when I take my prick out and then shove it back into Jean's crotch it's as often in Tania's mouth as in Jean's cunt.

Jean moans that she's coming ... . I fuck her until my belly aches ... . and John T. goes off. Tania's sucking him like a pig, and I take my cock out of Jean long enough to give her a mouthful to smack her lips over... . Then, back in Jean's cunt. It's all the same to Johnny now ... he's too drunk to know where he is. I give him back to Tania ... then to Jean again... Finally I let Tania suck the last jism out... . .

Things are already so badly fucked up that they couldn't be worse. But I have to make my contribution to the general disorder... . . Ann wants pictures for her little nookery, so I advise Billie to call her. It doesn't matter to Billie that this is the mother of a girl she's been playing with ... she has her pictures to sell and a customer is a customer. Next time I see Ann she's somewhat shocked.

"That artist you sent to see me ... . she's a Lesbian! And such a shocking Lesbian! We had lunch ... . you should have heard the remarks she made about women who passed by! Really, I hardly felt safe!"

 

This from a woman who is buying pornographic art to hang on her walls... .

Ann is still a tourist and will remain one, no matter what happens to her in Paris.

To hear her talk you'd think that cunt-sucking among women was something which sprouted only on this side of the ocean... But at any rate she's bought some pictures and commissioned more; she likes them and she's getting her money's worth, which is something that can't be said about all of Sam's art-buying ventures.

In the meantime, Billie and I have talked about things other than art. She came to my place to talk about Jean. What she had to know, she said, was just how I felt about Jean... . Did I have any noble ideas, perhaps about reforming her and leading her to a better way of life? Had I been thinking of taking her for a mistress? Man to man, now... . .

Relief, when she learned that my intentions towards Jean are not at all honorable ... . she doesn't mind if I lay the girl, she explained, just so long as I don't try to take her away from her. In fact, she likes to have Jean come here because she knows where she is and that she probably won't catch anything.

And it makes Jean contented to be fucked, too. There, she says, is the reason why she herself continues to make pictures, even though she's long ago realized that she's just a capable craftsman and no world beater ... . even for a Lesbian there's not the satisfaction in having her cunt sucked ... . not the satisfaction that a normal woman gets out of a good lay. So, she's always dissatisfied, she has to do something, and she makes herself almost an artist.

Billie and I become very good friends when she's convinced that I have no designs on Jean other than casual designs. As a man, she asks, what do I think of her? Her as a woman, she means... Does it give me hot pants to look at her?

Do I think that she ought to be a good lay, or would I think so if her hair wasn't cut that way and if I didn't know she was a Lesbian? Since I know that she's not anything but what she is, and since I know that she doesn't give a damn about attracting men, I can tell her the truth... . .

The truth is that Billie happens to be a very luscious looking package, no matter how it's wrapped, and I tell her so. For perhaps half an hour we sit by my window and talk about Billie as though she were someone else who wasn't there just then.

 

Then Billie looks at her watch ... . she has an appointment soon ... but before she goes, would I like to fuck her? I can't believe that I'm hearing straight... . Yes, that's what she said ... . would I like to try screwing her; shall she take her clothes off for a few minutes before she goes?

She explains ... she likes me, and she's grateful, for the way I'm handling Jean. What do women give men when they're grateful? So if I like her, if I really think that she's a nice cunt and would be nice to fuck, she'll let me. If I don't want to ... if I think that her being a Lesbian would interfere (although, she points out, it didn't keep me from wanting her to suck me off the first time I met her) ... . that's understandable, and no hard feelings either way.

I couldn't say no to a proposition like that, even if I hadn't been thinking already what a nice fuck she'd be if she only weren't queer. A cunt's a cunt, and it's what's between a woman's legs that matters to John Thursday, not what's in her head.

"I like to be screwed once in a while," Billie confesses, "I get a feeling that I'm cheating my destiny if I don't. Don't think I'm like those women who can't stand to have a man touch them ... I could marry a man and be a pretty good wife if I had to. But I wouldn't have much fun."

We undress in the bedroom, and because Billie is so dark and so odd I pull my Chinese hanging from the wall for her to lie upon. She likes that ... it's an erotic touch that she hadn't expected. And it's perfect for her.

Billie has an appealing awkwardness about her when she is taking her clothes off she tries to be feminine and seductive, and it's like watching a very innocent girl who's trying to be sophisticated. She steps so cautiously out of her dress as it lies around her ankles ... she's so excruciatingly delicate about letting down her pants and giving me a peep at that black-fringed bonne-bouche ... . that I feel like some cradle snatcher who's bribed a ten-year-old with Woolworth jewelry. Then before she's taken off her shoes and stockings, she comes across the room to me and lays everything she's got into my hands. She presses her belly against me; she stands on the tips of her toes and rubs her pussy on my fly. She's come to be felt of, and the invitation isn't rejected... She laughs embarrassedly when I pick her up and carry her to the bed.

 

Hell, I'm embarrassed too ... I drop her on the spread, on her ass and she rolls over with her legs apart to show her split fig. Do I want a bite, she asks? Then, when I lunge at her ... no, she was joking; that's a girl's business.

My dong isn't up as high as it might be, and we lie there diddling each other until it's hard enough. There's a Hell of a lot that Billie doesn't know about playing with a prick, but Johnny only needs encouragement, not persuasion... . .

"Is Jean very nice to screw?" Billie asks me while we're still fiddling with each other's tails. "Does she do that as well as most girls?"

Then she wants to know other things... Does Jean suck me off by herself or do I have to make her? Does she ask me to suck her cunt? Do we play tete-beche?

Does she ever talk about Billie? Does she ever speak of other women she's been to bed with? Lastly ... . do I think she's happy with Billie?

I give all the right answers, and Billie's happy. Jean, she tells me, is the nicest cunt she's ever lived with. For one thing she isn't messy. Ah, if I haven't been married or lived with a woman for a long time, I don't know what that means.

Hairpins in bed, piss and paper in an unflushed toilet, Kotex pads left in clothes closets ... . these are the things that most women bring you. But Jean is as clean as a cat; if you didn't sleep with her, you could live with her for years and never know when her flag was out, and whenever it's time to make love she has her little box as fresh as a flower.

Billie could talk about Jean all afternoon, and to hell with fucking, but I have a bug up my ass. Finally I get her back to where we started and let her feel what Jean Jeudi is like when he rubs his head between her thighs. She spreads them and I climb on ... . is she ready? Does she want to be fucked now? Yes, yes, I can put it in, but not too quickly ... she's not used to it, I must remember.

I've never laid a cunt who was so damn uninterested in what was happening.

She's bored, that's it ... and after I've been in her for a couple of minutes she doesn't care about it one way or the other. And the next thing I know she's opened her purse, taken out her lipstick and a pencil, and is sketching on the wall by her head! Drawing pictures while I'm fucking her! A hell of an insult, and she's completely unconscious of it... . . she lies across the bed, humming a little to herself and you'd never think that I was ramming my cock into her... . .

 

In addition to which, the picture she's making is upside down and if anybody wanted to look at it they'd either have to lie as she is or stand on their head... . .

"Are you through already?" she asks ... because I've stopped screwing her.

Then she yawns in my face, the bitch! Oh you lousy upside-cunt. I'll see to it that you wake up ... I've got something to make you open your eyes! You won't ask if I'm through again ... . you'll know when I'm through, and you'll be damned glad when it's over.

I pull my cock out of her fig, fling her lipstick across the room, and throw her belly-side down under me. She's amazed at the strong-arm tactics, but she looks a little pleased, too ... . until she sees what I'm trying to do. Then she raises hell... . .

No! She's very emphatic about it ... she won't be screwed in the ass! It's ... . it's a perversion, and besides, it would hurt! If I want to do that I can do it to Jean ...

if Jean likes it. But not to her! And she tries to hop off the bed.

If Billie were like any other cunt I probably couldn't handle her. But she fights like a man, without biting or pinching or scratching, and she doesn't try to kick you in the balls. It's a matter of weight and strength, and as long as I'm behind her I have an advantage, and when I manage to get my dong where I want it, struggling merely helps me ... every time she wiggles, John Thursday looks into her rectum.

Billie threatens me ... if I don't stop, she'll see to it that Jean never lays me again. She'll tell everybody that I have the clap. She'll scream and bring the concierge up... Well, if she tells people I have the clap I'll spread the rumor that I got it from her. If she rouses the concierge I'll tell him that she's a whore who tried to cheat me ... he's a sympathetic fellow; he'll probably help me hold her (the old bastard would throw me out on my ear, that's what he'd really do).

There's no squirming out of this for you, Billie... Now, you cunt sniffer, why don't you draw some more pictures? Yes, I know that you're not used to this. I can feel how tight your rectum is where my cock shoves into it... But it will be big enough: it will be bigger when I've finished, when you've felt all of my prick in there, and when I've oiled up your machinery with jism...

Billie bites the bed with anger. I'm a bastard, she says, a son of a bitch, uncle to a family of idiot shit-eaters... . I look at dirty pictures and play with myself, I sleep with old Kotex pads under my pillow ... . she has a colorful imagination, and it's a pleasure to have her come to life. A cock in the ass works wonders sometimes; it's a great stimulant.

Before I've finished I've screwed bloody Jesus out of her. She isn't demanding that I stop now ... . she's begging. But I keep at it. She becomes limp and lies moaning... . it's a trick, and when it doesn't work she pounds the bed with her fists.

"No more," she pleads, "No more! Alf, listen ... I'll get you girls ... oh, such girls! I know lots and lots of nice cunts who are looking for a man, Alf; I can get them for you... . I'll give you their addresses now ... I'll call them up for you...

Take your cock out of my ass now, Alf... ."

And more of the same. Probably she does know some nice cunts ... . . these Lesbians pick up everything nice in sight. But she could promise me a weekend with a barn full of virgins and I wouldn't stop. I screw harder and begin to play with her fig. I'd give my left ball to make this bitch come right now, but there doesn't seem to be a chance... . .

Suddenly I seem to have lost both of my balls ... they've turned inside out and shot out my dick, into Billie's rectum. I shove my fingers into her cunt and diddle her until she howls, but she won't come, the bitch. I've filled her ass with jism, and feeling as I do I'd like to piss up her ass too ... but I can't bear to take a chance with that lovely old hanging... ...

Billie snaps back into good humor almost immediately. Well ... I certainly take what I go after. She'll know better next time; she won't come here again without police protection. Or, at the very least, she won't offer to let me screw her; not without thinking twice about it. The whole thing becomes a joke to her ... she doesn't know if she should tell Jean or not. But did I have a good time? And am I satisfied now? Good! Then, could she please lie down on the bed to rest a minute and to finish her upside-down sketch?

Sam has made some sort of a deal with Severin. I don't know the details exactly, but Carl sees all of us making money by fistfuls.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Alf," he moans over a glass of Perrier water, which seems to be his expression of repentance for an evil life, "It must be my time of life ... . but Hell, I don't feel any different than I ever did; I really gave that girl a hell of a screwing, too... ."

Why to Jesus Alexandra had to break that date Sam can't understand. If she hadn't done that, everything would have been all right ... he'd have had a good time with her and no headache afterward. But now, now he's really in the gravy.

"Ann would forgive me if I ran around with the mother," he tells me. "She's broad-minded enough to understand things like that happen; that a man needs a little diversion once in a while. But how in hell could I tell her that it was a kid ...

just a little girl hardly older than my own daughter? And the worst part of it is that I want to fuck her again! Right now, while I'm sitting here talking to you, I can see her as she stood after she'd let me take off her clothes ... she didn't know whether to cover herself so that I couldn't see her, or cover her eyes so she couldn't see me." Tania must have given him a wonderful line of bullshit--or else she just kept still and let him make up the beautiful background, because Sam is full of astonishing ideas. "She was so innocent about everything ... . she trusted me completely, you could see that. And yet she was so full of life, so eager to do anything to please me ... she's just a babe in the woods... ."

As things are now, anything I could say would just make Sam mad. Either he'd think that I was slandering a sweet innocent child or he'd feel that I'd let him make a fool of himself. My best bet is to keep still and hope that when London Bridge comes down I'm off to one side with the newsreel cameramen. I let Sam talk ... I've listened to a lot duller stories for the sake of a few drinks... ...

"I don't suppose she's a virgin," he says thoughtfully. "She didn't act quite like one... I suppose some boy has taken her on a picnic or something like that. But it's really wrong to take a girl like that, with all her illusions, and do to her what I did. But I couldn't stop, once it was started! I had to screw her, and because she was young and innocent and little I acted worse with her than I did with her mother ... I made her do everything that her mother did... . God! Mother and daughter I've screwed them both ... . and I can't forget either of them. What a situation! Alf, you know Alexandra; what would she do if she found out? Do you think she'd go to Ann? Would it be very bad? Christ, Almighty. I'd tell her myself, right now, if I thought it would do any good... ..."

 

That's what Sam has been doing with his time. As for Ann, she has another story and a hell of a story too. For some reason she wants me to believe that she has really jumped off the high board ... perhaps she thinks that I'll tell Sam and make him jealous ... . . she won't forget that card game he didn't go to... ...

There are two vague males ... . so vague that Ann can't even keep their names straight. And these two bozos, with Ann, are alleged to have promoted some very high jinx at her little hideaway a couple of nights ago. According to Ann's story, she took them up there intending to let them fuck her, one at a time, and then got scared. Then, when they found out that she didn't intend to take down her pants after all they got sore, tied her to the bed, and gave her the works... ...

If she'd picked better names! If these birds had been called Sid and Ernest, for instance, I might have believed her. But these guys are a couple of tough frogs ...

. perhaps Apaches ... . and the whole, glittering picture is obviously a piece of cerebral adventuring.

"The way I was treated!" Ann exclaims, managing a shudder. "The filth I was obliged to endure! It's impossible to speak of it... . . I shan't even remember it!

Tied to a bed! Helpless, and at the mercy of men without mercy! What would Sam say if he suspected!"

Ann, unless she is careful, is liable to talk herself into something. In America, when a woman begins daydreaming like that, she goes to a psychoanalyst and has her mind felt up. In Paris she's more likely to end up in a hotel bedroom with two thugs and a pimp with a movie camera... ... .