The Memoirs of Josephine Mutzenbacher (vintage erotica) (15 page)

“Of course,” I agreed, “that is terrible.” “Just think,” said Albert, “he lets me see her naked. I feel her titties and her 'kitten'! But I can't go further-that is not to be thought of!” “How do you satisfy yourself?” I inquired. He blushed, but said nothing. “I suppose that you 'jerk' yourself 'off?” “Oh, no!” he said. “Well, then, what do you do?” I asked him again. “The Italian way,” said Melani laughing. “How is that?” I asked, curious. “You will see-perhaps my husband will take another picture of him in the act.”

Capuzzi then came out, saying: “One pose is spoiled. We will have to make it over again.” “Which one?” “The last one, and it was all your fault too!” he growled at his wife. “You wiggled!” She then lay down again and Albert got on top, putting in just the head of his shaft. I dutifully again took her breast. When Capuzzi called “Done,” Albert immediately began to poke. “Jesus! Mary!-” Capuzzi cried and with one jerk pulled Albert off, almost throwing him down to the floor. Albert laughed, saying: “I surely will poke her some day!” “Never!” shouted Capuzzi in a rage. Melani fairly screamed: “For pity's sake, then, you come here! I can't stand it any longer!”

Capuzzi fairly foamed: “And with such a woman one is expected to work and accomplish some-thing?-No! We poke later, and that's that!”

Melani put her fingers into her grotto saying: “Well, then, get out of here!” We needed no second invitation, but rushed to the dressing room and got down on the floor. “Oh!” said Albert, “I am glad that you are here! For once I can poke with pleasure! And you have such a nice, small 'kitten'! Now, help-but wait-give me your titties-I want to lass the nipples-now-now -yes, that is fine!” “And I have also waited for this!” I said. “I got so nervous from all those trials, now-faster-oh, your shaft! So long-so warm-faster! Yes-yes- now! Now-squirt-now-now-now! Oh, how many more times?-Oh! I have 'come' twice already!” After we had “finished,” we heard Capuzzi and his wife still “at it!” “No! No!” she whispered, “don't squirt yet-not yet-I have not had enough yet-more-give me more!”

He murmured: “But you would sooner have Albert, wouldn't you?”

“I wouldn't shit on Albert!” she said in plain words. “You are the only one-ah! What a poke-poke me, my love-ah.” The rest was only a jumble of words. Capuzzi asked again: “Now, may I squirt? I can't wait any longer! Oh, your titties-may I!-Now!” “Yes- yes – now squirt-oh-ah-but that feels so good! There-now! Albert can play all he likes. It will not affect me any morel Oh! But that is so sweet-”

“Why does he tease you?” inquired Capuzzi. They both were finished, but still talking. “He does not tease me,” she assured him. “When he has his shaft in me, or when I have it in my mouth, I always think of yours! Albert means nothing to me!” “Nonsense!” laughed Albert to me. “She is lying to him. You heard how crazy she is about me. She told you so herself!” “Certainly!” I agreed. “Why haven't you poked her long ago? You surely must have had the chance.”

“It is impossible,” declared Albert. “The old man watches us all the time.” “But when he is not at home?” “Oh, no,” Albert shook his head. “He is too cunning. You never know where he is. He is liable to show up at any moment!” “And, what if he should?” I asked. Albert sobered up and said: “Don't even think about it. He would be likely to kill the both of us. He is stronger than I am.”

“Unbelievable,” I said. “Wait!” said Albert. “Wait until you see him naked!” “How?” “Well, sometimes he has his wife photograph him.” “So? I jolly well hope that he will have me do that some day.” “Do you know,” Albert went on, “how often he pokes his wife's every day?” “No. How often?” “At least seven or eight times a day!” “Well, she ought to have enough,” I said. “Yes, but it is a regular habit with her.” We were now called into the studio again. “A new pose,” said Capuzzi. He was in his undershirt and drawers. His face was red and so were lovely Melani's ears. She laughed, satisfied. Her eyes shone. “Oh, my,” she said. Those two have been 'doing it' too!” Taking hold of Albert's limber shaft, she showed it to her husband. Then, coming closer to me, she whispered: “Was it good?” “Well, what shall we do now?” said Capuzzi. “It looks like Albert's shaft won't stand any more.” At that he took off his clothes and I marveled at his enormous chest, all covered with hair; his muscular arms and the terrible tool which hung down from his belly. He came towards me, but Melani called: “Halt! Nothing doing! Make your pose with Albert. It would be too bad to waste another plate.” “We have already made that pose with Albert.” “But I don't want you to pose with that girl! Leave her alone,” she said emphatically. “Foolish!” he said. “If I allow you to pose with Albert I surely should be allowed to pose with Pepi!”

“No!” she said. “You will get hot and passionate!” “No thought of it,” he defended himself. “If I should get hot, I would simply poke you once more.” This seemed to suit her. “But only the position,” she warned. I had to lie on the bench, spreading my legs far apart so that he could get in between them. “Now!” he called to his wife, inserting the head of his enormous engine into my cleft. “Not so far!” Melani called. “Not so far!” Her warning was not necessary. I could not have taken more than he already had in. Even now the device was quite springy from just having male the preliminary assault, and I soon had the pleasure of feeling it grow bigger and bigger-filling me completely! This was the consequence of the so-called “position.” “Done!” called Mrs. Capuzzi.

Her husband released me and began making another pose. He sat on a stool and had me sit on his lap, with my back towards him. I was facing the camera. Beaching under through my arms, he put his hands on my breasts and his shaft inside me. I could not resist moving up and down, but he whispered: “Not now!” “Done!” called his wife from behind the camera. We were to make another pose, but, it was necessary to use Albert, who, after so many rough trials, was unable to rise to the task. The enterprise had to be postponed until some future time. Capuzzi engaged me to be on hand two days later. Then he paid me ten guldens and dismissed me for the time being.

I
went towards town. At the crossroads I met my friend Zenzi. Together we went to the dark house on Lantern Street. I was anxious to show her the money which I had just earned and to tell her of my experience with the photographer. My description of the different poses caused her to get excited. “Well, of all things-!” she said, dropping onto the couch. “From your talk I am all 'worked up!' If only I could be poked right now!” I was of the same mind. I crawled beside her on the couch. She lay there, her eyes shining and her titties trembling. She was entirely different from the way I had hitherto seen her at home-not at all the same, meek Zenzi.

For some time we played with each other's titties. Then, as I was all ready to get on top of her, she pushed me away, saying: “Oh, that is no good!” She called to the kitchen: “Mrs. Bock, is Karl there?” The old lady opened the door and said: “Yes, he is here-what do you want of him?” “Just call him,” said Zenzi.

“But what do you want?” she inquired. “Don't ask any questions,” said Zenzi in a rough tone. I had never before heard her talk like this. I was only beginning to learn her true character.

The old lady disappeared. “Who is Karl?” I asked Zenzi.

“He is the old woman's grandson,” she informed me. Then, taking something from her pocket, she again lay down on the couch. “And what do you want of him?” I asked. “I want him to poke me,” she answered. The door opened and a boy of about seventeen entered. He was good-looking and a trifle pale, with sharp features. He was smoking a cigarette and grinning. “Hello Karl! Here is a gulden-I want you to poke me,” Zenzi said. He leisurely walked to the couch, took the gulden, examined it, then put it in his pocket. Then he began playing with her titties, all the while looking at me as if wondering who I was. “Don't stand there like a dummy!” Zenzi said. He unbuttoned his trousers. Zenzi winked at him. “Look at that shaft! Did you ever see anything like that before?” Karl grinned. I sat up to get a better look, and-God be my witness-I had never seen anything like it. It reached beyond his navel. The heal itself was as big as most organs that I had seen! “Well?” asked Zenzi, “Isn't that worth a gulden?” Karl hurled himself on top of her, throwing away his cigarette at the same time. Zenzi moved around under him and said: “Well -come on, now!” “Oh, put it in yourself,” he grumbled. Zenzi immediately put it in, beginning to wiggle and calling: “My dear Karl, oh, poke me good-not so fast-! Oh, I am coming-my dear Karl-I love you-I would like to be with you in bed poking! Oh, you dearest thing!” “To hell with you! he hissed, keeping up his regular motion. “Then why do you poke me?” she asked. “Because you pay me. I would poke my grandmother if she gave me a gulden-” he answered. Zenzi worked with all her might. I got so passionate looking at them that I began to wonder whether I had better not give him a gulden too, but I decided not to. When he had finished, he wanted to go. “Stay here!” begged Zenzi. “No!” he answered her roughly. “Why don't you want to stay with me a while?” “Because I am sick of your ways-good bye!” he answered and was gone.

Zenzi grabbed a glass and hurled it after him, shouting: “You miserable cur!” The glass struck the door and fell into pieces.

Zenzi cried; “He is the only one that I love-the rowdy! I will never let him poke me again!” Astonished, I asked: “But how about Rudolph?” “Oh, please, don't mention his name!” “But you must love Rudolph. You do all that he wants you to do for him.”

“With Rudolph it is different. He is old enough to be my father! And furthermore-I do not love him,” she said. “Yes, but you tell Rudolph that he 'does it' best of all,” I said. “What doesn't one say when one has a shaft stuck into her? What haven't I heard you tell your father when he was on top of you and you were about to 'go off?” she answered. I said: “That is true!” “I have been with Rudolph eight years,” she said. “Why, you are only fifteen now,” I replied. “Yes, that is just it. My mother was his sweetheart, and, when she died of consumption, I was left. He took me with him.”

“As his sweetheart?” I asked. “No; at first I slept on the floor in his room. I was thankful because I was afraid of the Orphan Asylum.” “But why?” “I don't know. Mother always was crying while she was in the hospital-If I die, my poor child will have to go to the Orphan Asylum'.” “Where did you stay while your mother was in the hospital?” “With Rudolph. Mother lived with him before she got sick.” “And your father?” “I don't remember him; I was only two years old when he died.” We sat on the couch, still naked. Zenzi seemed to be quieted down and also relieved that she could unburden her troubles and at the same time confide in me.

Continuing her story, she said: “Rudolph promised mother on her death bed that he would always look after me. So, for several months I slept on the floor. Rudolph slept in the bed. Finally he told me to get into bed with him, saying: It is not necessary for you to sleep on the floor any more.' When I got into bed with him, he raised my shirt and played with my 'kitten,' fondling me all over.” “Did you like that?” I asked. “Oh, yes! You know that I liked it. I knew what it meant. I had often heard him and my mother 'doing the same thing' during the night.” “That's very much like my own situation,” I observed. “The first night he did nothing but fondle me,” Zenzi went on, ignoring my comment. “The next night he had me play with his shaft. At that time he told me: “Zenzi, now you are my sweetheart. But you must not tell anybody. I will always take good care of you.'

“I was pleased at this. I felt proud that I already had a sweetheart. And I was happy that I was to be provided for, because, even as a child, I often had gone hungry. Moreover, I was afraid to sleep on the floor alone after mother was gone, but I was not afraid any more when I slept with Rudolph. I would have done anything that he wanted. “Even if it were distasteful?” I asked. “Certainly. I was afraid that he would throw me out and that the police would take me to the Orphan Asylum where the children had to kneel on hard peas and pray all the time.” “Of course,” I said, “it is far better to have a nice warm bed to sleep in and a nice warm shaft in your hand!”

“Or in your belly-ha, ha, ha!” said Zenzi. “Well, I don't think that you got 'it' in your belly right away, did you?” I asked.

“No, not right away; at first Rudolph just put his tool in my hand, saying: This is what a man puts into a woman.'“ “'In where did you say he puts it?”” I asked. “In there-!' he said, and showed me where the heavenly 'carpenter' had placed my opening.”

“He certainly was a good teacher!” I said. “Oh, yes,” she answered, “he was a good teacher!” “These are the eggs,” he said, putting them in my hand, “and from here you squirt into the woman's belly and from that she gets a child!” I said: “I was not so enlightened at first, but learned it all later on.” Zenzi continued; “After he had explained to me all about poking, he got on top of me and did the job; that is, he rubbed his shaft on the outside, explaining that he could not get it in until I had grown a little older and that he just wanted to show me how it was done.”

“And from that he 'went off' himself?” I asked. “Oh, no! He only 'went off when he did it from behind!” “In your rectum. I know.” “In your rectum?” asked Zenzi. “But it can't be done that way, can it?” “It can't, eh? Three years ago Mr. Horak poked me that way and 'went off three times.” “But didn't that hurt you terribly?” “Oh, yes, at first. But after it was all in it didn't hurt any more!” “I must try it sometime,” said Zenzi. “But that is not necessary now. You can take it in front,” I said. “At that time Rudolph only pushed it between my thighs,” she went on.

“Oh, I know. You squeezed your thighs together and he pushed through them between your buttocks-is that it?” “Yes, yes, just so! “And then, did he squirt?” “Yes, and also when I took his shaft in my mouth!” “What? You did that, too?” “Yes. It was hard at first! I vomited several times. But I soon got used to it.” “And did you swallow it?” “Sometimes; you always swallow a little.” “And did he do the same thing to your “kitten'?” “Sometimes. For hours he would lay with his face between my legs, licking and sucking and saying: I am doing this so you will have a little pleasure, too!'“ “And how did you feel?”

“I was all done up, it felt so good!” “I know it-it is good! I wish that we had someone here right now to do it to the both of us!”

“Yes-so do I!” We were now playing with each other. We could not hold back any longer, so we lay down. She was “fingering” me, and I did the same for her until we both “went off!” Being directly satisfied, for the present we sat up; then I begged her to go on with her story. “See my breasts-how big they are?” she said. “Well, Rudolph says that that is the result of so much poking. When I was only nine years old they had begun to develop, and hair was already growing on my little “kitten'.” “And did anybody else poke you besides Rudolph?” “Oh, yes. Rudolph told me that if anybody touched me or coaxed me, I should just be careful so no harm would come to me and to be sure that nobody saw me.” “And did he allow you to go with others at the time?” “Oh, yes. He said that I could stay with older men, but that if he caught me with little boys he would kill me!” “I do not understand.” “Well, Rudolph said: 'You may let men do it, but you must be paid for it; if a man just feels of your 'kitten' he must pay for the privilege. Only death comes without pay.' Now, you see why I always like to stay with Rudolph. He is so wise. You can ask him anything and he will tell you all about it.” “Why did he let my father poke you?” “That is simple: since that time we have not paid any room or board.”

“That is outrageous-and he pokes me for nothing!” “Yes,” she said, “and for that he does not betray you and your father to the police.” “It is a shame,” I said. “I won't let him do it to me again.” “Do as you like; I don't care!” “Well, let that rest,” I said. Tell me more of your story. Did you earn any money at that time?” “Oh, yes,” she said. “First the storekeeper on the corner; he always looked at me and tickled me under the chin. I told Rudolph, and he said: 'Do anything that he wants, but you must ask him for money.' The first time he gave me only a few pennies. He was standing in front of the store and I passed him. I smiled at him and he called me inside. He took me into the storeroom and said that he was going to give me some pennies or figs or something like that. When we were in the storeroom, he said: “You have a little 'fig" that I would like,'-meaning my kitten, of course.” “Then what did you say?” “Nothing.” “Oh, go on and tell it to me. Don't make me ask questions,” I said. She replied: “I am telling it; he said to let him see the 'fig' that I had between my legs. He said that if I would do that, that he would give me as many figs as I wanted.”

“You did that, didn't you?” “No!” “No? Why?” “I am very fond of figs.” “So am I. Well, then, why didn't you do it?”

“Well, I thought of Rudolph, and said; I don't need any figs; I want something else.'“ “What?” he asked.” “And I answered: 'Money!'“ “'All right,' he answered. Then he lifted my skirt and played around my “kitten' and took out his shaft, pushed it between my legs and rubbed it against my belly until he 'went off.' Then he gave me thirty kreutzers and told me that I must tell no one. I gave the money to Rudolph.” “And were you with the storekeeper often?” I asked. “Oh, yes-I bought everything that Rudolph sent me for and never paid for anything.” “That means that you went into the storeroom with him?” “Yes!” “Who else did you have?”

“My teacher. When I was in the fourth grade, there was a girl in our class who had big titties. The teacher always used to feel them, and I can tell you that she was very proud of it, too. During our gymnasium exercises, the teacher always helped her at the rings, or, when we were climbing, he always took hold of our arms or backs. But this girl, he always held her titties or had his hand on her behind. Then she always blushed. And I always stood there and laughed. Then he blushed, too.” “Go on,” I said. “One time while he was holding her she could not get up on the bar, so he told her that she would have to stay and do it after the class was dismissed. I stayed also, to see what would happen. I surmised what it would be. I waited outside until he came out in about a half hour. Then I walked with the girl and questioned her. “"Why does the teacher always feel of your titties and your behind?' I asked. “Then she began to talk. The teacher has a long “stopper” between his legs-' she confided.

“Well, did he show you it?” I asked her. “"Yes,' she stammered-but she didn't know what it was. Then she told me that he put it between her legs and rubbed it between her titties. He promised her a lot of pennies-and then a lot of white water came out of it.

“So I explained everything to her. She got wise, She said that she didn't care what that thing was called. If he would only not make her study any more, she would let him poke her as often as he liked.

“I thought that I might make use of this tactic also. I already had titties, but, of course, they were still small. The next time that teacher wanted to help me, taking hold of my arm, I said: 'Please, teacher, I am so ticklish.' So he took hold of my breast. “He looked at me strangely, and I smiled. Then he said: “You will stay after school.' “When all the others had gone, I remained in the dark cloak room. He came in and, putting his hands on both my titties, asked: 'Do you like gymnasium work?'“ “'Yes, teacher.' “He put his hand under my dress, holding my 'kitten,' and said: What is this?” “I acted ignorant, and said: I don't know.' “He then put his hand into his trousers. I took hold of his shaft, which was stiff and randy. “He asked: What is that?' “I told him: That is the teacher's shaft.' “He questioned me further. 'And what is it used for?” “To piss and to poke with!' I answered. “At that he almost went crazy. He said: “Do you want some pennies?'

“I said: 'Yes. But I want something else besides pennies.'

“What?” he asked in astonishment. “'Some real money!'

“'Real money?” “'Yes,' I said, laughing. “'But what for?” he said, taking his hands off me. “I raised my dress way up-so that he could see everything. Then I said: What for? So that the teacher can poke me and I will not betray him!' “He started right in! He tried to get inside me, but he couldn't. I was too small! So I took it in my mouth and then he gave me fifty kreutzers!” “How did you happen to come to the city?” I asked her. “I came with Rudolph.” “He does know everything,” I said. “Yes,” she replied; “He once said: “There is no business out in the country,' so he brought me into the city.” “And I am here, too!” “Yes; Rudolph always said: “Pepi could make lots of money if she had any sense.'“ “Well, I like that!” I fumed, hurt at his appraisal of me. “Now, you can see for yourself!” she replied. “How much have you made today?” “Two gulden in the hallway; five gulden with the old man and ten gulden now-two gulden I must pay to the old woman-that leaves fifteen gulden. Boy, father will look surprised when I bring all this money home!” “What?” she said. “You surely do not intend to do that, do you? You would be foolish!” “How so?” “You don't intend to give it all up, do you?” “No? Why not?” “God forbid! Perhaps tomorrow you won't earn anything. What will you do then?” “Then I will just tell him that I didn't earn anything.”