The Memoirs of Josephine Mutzenbacher (vintage erotica) (4 page)

Mrs. Rhinelander smilingly said: “I saw that at once. She is a little wench, a natural whore!” She asked me: “Have you been poked yet?” I naturally denied it, but she insisted: “I don't believe you. Don't lie. How often have you done it?” But I insisted: “Never! I have only seen it done at home.” Mrs. Rhinelander and I then went upstairs, while Mr. Horak remained in the cellar. She seemed now like a partner, and I was very proud of this community of interest with a grown-up woman. This was something different from Anna and Mizzie and the rest. I thought of Ferdl having poked her up in the garret; since he had often poked me too, it seemed as if there were a bond between us. As we got upstairs, I confessed that I had not told her the truth before. This I owned up to the fact that I had been poked before. She wanted to know all about it: how often, with whom, etc. I replied: “Possibly ten times or more.” Then I played my trump card and said: “With several boys-one of them Ferdl, the big boy, Anna's brother; you know him!” She denied it, but I kept on saying: “You surely remember him, he helped you carry the wash to the attic.” She said: “Oh yes, I remember him now.” Leaning close to her, I whispered: “You know, he told me all about it!”

She cut me short saying: “Shut your mouth!” That settled that. A few days later I saw Mr. Horak going into the cellar. I called “hello” to him. Spying me, and making sure that no one was in sight, he called to me: “Come along to the cellar.” I was all too glad to go.

As we reached the dark passageway, he turned and, catching my head, pressed my face to the front of his trousers. I immediately put my hand into his pants and took out his shaft, which I held in both hands, rubbing it gently. He remarked: “How nicely you do that.”

After such praise, I tried to please him. I reached into his pants and began to play with his eggs, while with the other hand I continually rubbed his foreskin back and forth. “Take it in your mouth!” he begged. I refused. I don't know why, but I wanted to do it somewhere else. “I will give you another gulden if you will take it in your mouth,” he said. But I still declined, saying to him: “Do it to me like you did to Mrs. Rhinelander!” In great astonishment, he said: “You want me to poke you?” I nodded.

He then said: “But, child, you are too small!” I kept on playing with his shaft, rubbing my mound against it and trying to put it inside me, all the while saying: “I am not too small. I can poke!”

“But you haven't any hair on you!” “That makes no difference. I want to get poked!” “Have you ever done it?” I nodded. He said: “How often?” I said: “Several times.”

He lifted me up and held me astride his hips, the same as one would carry a child, supporting me with one hand while I put my arms around his neck. With his other hand, he lifted my clothes and opened my slit with his fingers. Then he started the ascent. I could feel the head of his immense organ going into me. I jumped up and down, trying to help him invade me. However, I was too small to receive him. After trying for some time, he put me down, saying: “No! It won't go like this!” I noticed how red his shaft had become from rubbing against my body. He sat down on a small keg and rolled a smaller one in front of him. Then he turned to me and drew me to him, with my back touching him, as I stood on the small keg. This pleased me greatly, for I thought that he was going to invade me from behind as Robert had done in bed. But, instead, he ordered me to bend forward. I did so, bracing my elbows on another keg, my little bottom raised high in the air. I turned my head and saw him wetting his shaft with saliva. He said that this would make it go in easier. Then, raising my dress, he got up, leaned over me and started boring into the cleft between my buttocks. I was very much frightened at this turn of affairs. I wanted to scream, but he quieted me, saying: “If it hurts, tell me.” He then pushed further. What's more in addition to thrusting his tool into my bottom, he pushed his finger into my grotto. “Does it hurt?” he asked. Although it did hurt a little, the wonderful sensation which tickled both orifices was so delightful that I answered: “No!” He then bored a little deeper and again asked if it hurt me. I replied in the negative. He now pushed further, until I feared that the mammoth machine must be all the way into me. (He told me, later, that he had been able to get only about half of it in.) At first I was disgusted to think of receiving a poke in this manner, but, as he worked on, I became calmer. The fear of being hurt disappeared and the tingling sensation felt so good that I began to moan with pleasure. He then withdrew, anxiously asking whether he had hurt me. This was an unpleasant interruption to a wonderful sensation, and I stretched up too, saying: “No, no! It doesn't hurt…! Please leave it in and keep on.”

He now put it in again and I whispered: “just keep it there-there-oh! That feels so good!” He was very gentle about it, and kept playing with my grotto all the time. Finally he was in to the hilt. I could not help thinking of the ragged boy who poked me in the bushes and who was the one to get my maidenhead; of the soldier who tried so hard but could not succeed; of Robert, who had got part way in, and of Mr. Eckhard, who had gone a bit further. The thoughts made me so excited that I was almost beside myself. To feel my lover's lance better, I several times pinched my cheeks together tightly, greatly affecting Mr. Horak. He leaned forward, clutching me to him, working violently and whispering: “You darling! That's right-pinch some more-you sweet little whore-you must let me poke you thoroughly every day!-I'll meet you right here tomorrow and every day!”

“Every day?” I asked. “Yes, every damned day, you darling little whore! Every day I want to poke you!” This conversation wrought me up to a still greater pitch of excitement. “You want to poke me every day? But that will be impossible! Don't you think so?”

“Why will it?” he demanded, pushing still harder. “But what if Mrs. Rhinelander comes?” “Nonsense!” he whispered, “I like you a great deal better.” “I don't believe it!” “But, I tell you, it's true.” He now was inside me so far that I could feel his eggs bumping against my thighs. “But,” I reminded him, “Mrs. Rhinelander has big titties.” “I don't care. You will soon have big ones too!” “No, not for a long time yet.” Then he comforted me by telling me: “Just do lots of poking and they will grow fast, never fear.” I was so pleased at this that I squeezed my buttocks several times. He stopped talking and breathed very hard. Then, suddenly, he said: “Now! Now! Oh, my goodness! I felt something warm inside of me and knew that he was 'going off. His spear jerked furiously and his hot finger probed deep within my canal. I felt one hot wave after another go through me, as though I were being licked all over by a red hot tongue! I was breathing hard and moaning! When I got up, the hot juice was running down my legs like a waterfall.

S
ince I did not see Mr. Horak for several days after this meeting and since my attraction to him had crowded Mr. Eckhard completely out of my mind, I satisfied my longings in the old way with Franz. Also I continually watched my parents at night to see if I could once more catch them in the act. One night I saw father poking mother from behind. Another time mother was on top of him. One night, having been awakened by the noise of their bed, I heard them talking. Mother and father were both naked and father was “giving her the birdie.” Her legs up on his shoulders, he poked her with all his might and main. Finally he whispered: “I am 'coming'

…!” But mother said: “No, no, wait-hold back-wait for me!”

But father went off, and, letting go mother's legs, he sank down on the bed exhausted. This displeased mother greatly. She said: Is that nice of you? I didn't even 'go off'!” After a few minutes, mother asked: “Can't you do it once more?” Father murmured: “Perhaps, after a little while.” Now mother was very angry. She said: “Oh, later on you will be snoring and it will be impossible for me to wake you!” “But I can't do it now!”

“Well, then, why didn't you hold back? I want some, too!”

After a few minutes, she asked again: “Can't you make him stand now?” “Not now. Wait!” Then my mother said: “I will make him stand!” She sat up in bed, and taking father's lance in her hand, began playing with it. Father played with her titties, but for about a quarter of an hour nothing happened. Finally he said: “You see? It's no use!” Mother, almost in tears by this time, said: “What can we do?” “Nothing,” said father. “Let up. He won't stand anymore!” Mother, almost weeping, kept on playing with him. Finally she said: “My hand is tired! I must try something else.”

She now stooped down and began to suck and lick him, all the while crying bitterly. I could hear her plainly. At last she stopped crying and said: “Well, he just won't come. Oh, Lord! What can a woman do with a man like you? You push it in once or twice and then 'get off,' never thinking that a woman wants some too.” Father said nothing, but mother kept on: “What shall I do? With your teasing, my playing with it and taking it in my mouth, you almost drive me wild! What would you say if I pushed you away just as you were about to 'go off? I suppose that you would go out somewhere else and get it? Oh, you men can help yourselves; you would simply go and get a whore, but I-what would happen if I was poked by another man?” “Oh, do what you like about it!” “So-? I will remember that! Don't think for a minute that I can't get another man if I want!” At that, father sat up, threw mother over, reached for her slit, put his fingers into it and began playing with her titties with his other hand. Pretty soon I heard mother breathe hard, saying: “Now! Now! Push your finger away up! I am com-ing!-Oh!-Oh!-That was good!”

Father said: “Thank God. Let the poor soul rest!” I soon heard them snoring peacefully. I seemed the only one awake, all excited and wishing I could get a little “piece,” not knowing whom I would prefer, Franz, Ferdl, Robert, Mr. Eckhard, the soldier, the ragged boy or Mr. Horak. But I could have none of them, so I gave myself a good rubbing and fell asleep. I had become familiar with several of the boys in the neighborhood. This was probably due to that certain something in my eyes or my looks which seemed to give them the courage to ask me for a “piece.” Of course, they were all wicked boys, the same as my brother, poking their sisters or such of their friends as they could get. Whenever I happened to meet one of these boys on the stairs or in the street he would slap me on my bottom or feel between my legs. If I liked him, I'd touch his shaft; if not, I would turn away. With the girls I had very little to do. In school I was very quiet. If I did talk with one of the girls, she would start in to tell me how much she knew about poking, or else she would look at me in disgust when I mentioned it and shun me afterwards -if she was one of those “nice” girls. With the boys it sometimes happened that, if I felt the lance of one of them and he took the hint we would slip into the cellar, which was always open, quickly snatch a “piece,” standing up, then hurry away. I probably did it with eight different boys during this period. I especially remember two of the boys-one of them later becoming very closely connected in my story with Mr. Eckhard. I will relate further concerning these boys in my next chapter.

O
ne of my boy friends was a lad named Alois, the son of our landlord; a fine boy, blonde hair, always faultlessly dressed in a brown velvet suit with Knickerbocker pants. He was about twelve years old. I really believe that I was in love with him. Every time that I met him I was nervous and excited. He seemed to be a very proud boy and carried his head high, as though he considered himself above the rest of us. I felt ashamed and humble in his presence, but could not resist staring at him. He would give me a short look when we met, then haughtily turn away. He was always accompanied by a nurse; a middle-aged woman, very stout, with one lame shoulder. I accidentally met him alone one day, while I was sneaking around the cellar door, looking for some boy; it did not much matter which one, for I was excited and wanted to be poked. I said: “Have you ever been in a cellar?” He answered: “No, never.” “Well, let's go down together.” To this he agreed, and, on the stairs he whispered: “Are you sure that nobody will see us?” This brought us more intimate than ever and also on friendly terms, and I knew that I had him where I wanted him. Still, not daring to touch him, I replied: “Why, there is no one there.” He said nothing as we went down the dark passage, but, stopping suddenly, he began to stroke me on the cheek. I was so happy at this notice that I held my breath. He now grew more bold and began to knead my breasts, and, since I did not object, he let his hand stray lower and lower until it had reached the throbbing crux of my passion. I was now quivering with delight all over. Pressing me harder and harder as I leaned against the wall, he said: “Shall we do it?” At first I resisted, saying: “What if somebody should come?” But he lifted my dress and I felt his little engine rubbing against my citadel. I was so worked up by this time that I reached the heights of passion as soon as I felt the head of the taut and twitching tool entering my canal. Alois' face still was sober, but he must have achieved satisfaction also, for I felt myself getting all wet. Alois remained quiet, always with that grave look. Putting his hands under my buttock and pressing me tight to him, with one shove I suddenly felt his whole shaft entering me. It was a short, thick one, but… it felt quite huge. For several moments Alois did not move. Then he began a round-about, revolving movement, as if trying to enlarge the entrance while still keeping it sealed. I moaned and once more felt myself attaining pleasure's heights. Alois remarked: “Now for the end!” “With pleasure!” I replied gladly. He slowly withdrew his shaft and pushed it in again, repeating this operation five or six times. I felt him quickly expel the scalding seed of his sexuality. There was not much, but he really enjoyed it. I could feel his meager machine convulsing inside me and I right along with him reached my goals for the third time. When he had finished, Alois wiped himself on my shirt and put his instrument back in his pants. He then remarked, patting me on the cheek: “You do this much better than Clementina.”

Not knowing who Clementina was, I said nothing, but I did not wonder, for I felt sure that such a fine boy could get almost any girl whom he wanted. As he was about to leave me he said: “Come to my house tomorrow afternoon. My parents are going out and I will be alone!” The next afternoon, I rang the door-bell. The cook came to the door and I bashfully inquired if Alois was in. “Yes, the young master is there,” said she, showing me to a beautiful elegantly furnished room, which appealed to me like a Paradise. Alois showed me around the room and then showed me his bed, which was very beautiful. He also showed me a large couch covered with light, blue material, saying as he pointed to the bed: “That is where I sleep.” And to the couch: “And the nurse sleeps here.” He then showed me his picture books, his soldiers, his guns and his swords. I never had known that a child could have so much luxury and that it could be possible to do the thing which we had done in the dark cellar in such a beautiful room. In a few minutes, the nurse, who always accompanied him to and from school, came in, so we were not alone after all, as I had been led to expect. I then gave up all hope of repeating the very delightful performance of the day before. Alois smiled very pleasantly. The nurse sat down on the couch and began to knit, paying no attention whatsoever to us playing at the table. Suddenly Alois got up and, going over to the fat nurse, began playing with her huge globes. I was naturally so astounded at this effrontery that I could not say a word. She pushed him away, murmuring: “But Alois,” glancing at me. “Never mind her,” he said. “Pepi is wise and understands everything.” Then he again put his hands on her fat, protruding breasts. She made no further objection, saying: “But won't she tell?” Instead of replying, I got up and began to play with one of her breasts, pressing and squeezing it gently. It was soft and mushy, and her wrinkled old face began to get very red. Alois had already taken out his engine and put it in the nurse's hand. She started to play with it, but not as I had always done it. Instead, taking it between her thumb and her middle finger, she began toying with the head, tapping it with her forefinger so the foreskin kept drawing further back. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, her wrinkled face wide in a grin. “Oh, yes,” I said.” “And what is it called?” “A tool!” I said in a low tone. “And what do you do with such a tool?” “Engulf it!” I whispered in reply.

She began to breathe faster as she quickened her play on his tool, saying: “And in what is the tool engulfed?” At the same time, she smacked her lips. “The canal!” Alois answered for me. Then he had loosened the nurse's waist and began playing with her flabby, bare breasts. She now turned to him and began questioning him. I assumed that this was a game which they both often played with each other. “What does the hoe do in a row?” “Plow!” he answered, in the same quiet way that made him so charming to me.

“What other name has the act?” Then Alois began to enumerate: “Pruntzing, screwing, shagging, nookieing, bootying, tailing, poontanging, gashing, frigging, diddling, scratching, meating,… etc.” I was delighted at hearing so many names for the delightful amusement. “What else can the hoe do?” she asked him. “Tickle the cleft of the buttocks, go into the mouth, go between the titties or between the legs, under the arm-pits, etc.”

“And what does Alois want to do now?” Without answering, he pushed her back. She closed her eyes and panted heavily. Loosening her blouse, he took out her titties. I noticed how far they hung down, the nipples standing out like little fingers. Alois then took the first one and then the other, sucking at the nipples with all his might.

Each time that the woman jerked the corresponding shoulder after Alois had sucked the nipple on that, she said: “Oh, how wonderful.”

Now he raised her dress, disclosing her fat, short naked legs. He smoothed the skirts out over her stomach, so that they would not bunch up. Then, stepping between her legs, he spread her black, hairy slit, which was of an enormous size, and deftly slipped his short, thick saber in to the hilt. Clementina reached hotly behind him and, clasping one of his cheeks in each hand, drew him to her tightly. He pushed with all his might, she still holding him so that it would not slip out. Clementina closed her eyes and gasped for breath. Holding a breast in each hand, Alois worked like a clock, as grave as he had been when he poked me the day before in the cellar at the school. After working like this for a few minutes, Clementina said: “Now, for the end, with pleasure,” and at the same time releasing his cheeks. I noticed, him slowly withdraw his shaft. She jumped with pleasure. Slowly he put it in again. She acted as though she were having a fit which threatened to tear her in two. Again he slowly withdrew. Clementina seemed to be choking. Slowly he put it in again. She trembled all over. Alois, always grave and sober, repeated this five or six times, always watching her face. As soon as her features relaxed and the spasm of spending was over, she sank back exhausted. Alois, getting red in the face, after several quick pushes, also sank forward, his face falling between her naked globes. For several seconds he lay in this position. I had got so excited that I could hardly resist the temptation to manipulate my grotto. They both now got up and Alois wiped himself on her undershirt. We all three sat on the couch and the woman, who was named Clementina, smiling at me, asked: “Well, did you like it?” I only smiled, for Alois, who sat on the other side of her, was looking at me. “She asked: “Do you understand that already?” I did not dare deny it, and yet I did not want to confess. So I just smiled, which, of course, was really the same as admitting it. “Well,” she remarked, “we will see.” And without further talk, she raised my skirt and began to examine me. While feeling around, she remarked: “Oh my… a lot has happened there!” Carefully, before I realized what she was up to, she began goring her little finger into me. Turning to Alois, she said. “You can get it in there all right.” She noticed how I was trembling, and said: “Shall he poke you now?” Without hesitation, I answered: “Yes! Yes!” I was afraid that I would have to go home without what I had come for.

She said to him: “Well, won't you give this nice girl a little piece? What do you say?” As he got up to come over to me, she stopped him, saying: “Wait! I must make you ready again!” This certainly seemed necessary, for his engine hung down soft and slack. He undoubtedly had had too much action for a boy of his age. I should have been too glad to attend to this detail myself, but I soon saw something I had not before witnessed. She took his little, Umber device in her mouth and wet it with her tongue. Then, squeezing her titties together, she put the machine between them. It looked exactly as though he was putting it into a big, soft cavern. This seemed to again arouse her passion, and I began to fear that I would be cheated out of my pleasure after all. She kept up a continual stream of talk: “Where is my Alois now?… Now he is with his nice titties, isn't he? But Alois has a good Clementina; no one else would do that for him. Her little man can poke her as often as he likes. Isn't that so?” Half turning to me, she said: “In the night, when everything is quiet, he crawls out of his bed and comes to my couch and then we do it… he does it fine! His nurse taught him how to do it properly, didn't she, Alois?” I began to think that this selfish old pig would take it all, but, just then he withdrew his tool, which was again erect and stiff, saying: “Well, shall I take Pepi now?” I could hardly resist taking hold of it. But I feared the homely old nurse, who seemed to be considering whether she would permit him to poke me or not. I remained quiet, hardly daring to breathe. At length she gave consent, moved to one side of the couch and made me lie down with my head on her lap. Alois immediately lifted my skirts, got up on top of me, opened my slit with his fingers and with one push, forced his spear into me much farther and more satisfactorily than the day before. I wanted to talk to him and fondle him, for he was now pushing back and forth regularly, but Clementina was continually looking into my face and kept up a steady stream of talk. I felt bashful and did not dare to take any liberties.

“Have you got it in?” she asked. “He is all in!” I whispered. She put her hand down between our bellies, first playing with me, then with Alois. I had to cough, because her breast was pressing against my face. She straightened up, still questioning: “Is it good?” I did not reply, but closed my eyes. “I say,” she again remarked, “Alois pokes well, doesn't he?” “Yes,” I answered, beginning to work my hips up and down. “Have you ever had it as good as that?” she wanted to know. “No!” I said, for I never had experienced such pleasure. “With whom do you poke at other times?” she demanded. “With Ferdl,” I replied, since he was not living at our house any longer. But she would rest. “Who else?” she asked in a very stern and authoritative voice. I had to answer. “With Robert.” “Goon.” “With my brother.”

Half crazed with pleasure and excitement, the names slipped from me. In my frenzied condition I gave no thought to the consequences. Fortunately she asked no further questions, but seemed to have conceived a new idea. Unbuttoning my waist, she pushed it down, baring my little titties. Then she moistened her fingers and began playing with the nipples, which were perfectly flat. As she played faster and faster, like a tongue licking them, they began to get hard and stand out. With Alois still moving around inside me as though trying to enlarge my canal, the tickling was so great that I almost went wild. I began to moan softly; murmuring; “I am getting close.. . I am getting closer!” Meeting every move, Alois worked faster and faster. A feeling of heat suffused my entire body. I trembled. I felt as though I could not stand it any longer. Alois whispered: “Now the end… with pleasure!” As he slowly withdrew his shaft, I squeezed my legs together, fearful of losing this final, great feeling, but he pushed the device back inside me again! Clementina, meanwhile, still played with my titties. Now a wonderful stretching sensation went through me from my toes to the top of my head. I attained my goals three times in succession! I let out a short scream and Clementina put her hand over my mouth. I felt a burning stream pouring into my canal as Alois squirted, and I again, which was the fourth time. I had never done this before.

Clementina's hand was held tightly over my mouth, preventing me from screaming, which I surely would have done. I started to lick the palm of her hand in my excitement. I was forced to remain on the couch for at least an hour. I was so thoroughly exhausted and tired from what I had gone through that I was unable to move. I was completely poked out! Clementina, however, was far from satisfied. I saw that she still had Alois standing before her on the couch and that she sitting in front of him. She again put his tool between her titties, but, as he pulled it out, it hung down limp and soft. She then put it into her mouth, at the same time tickling his tiny spheres. Then putting her face between his legs, she began tickling around the edges of the back entrance. In astonishment I saw Alois' weapon slowly rising; finally it was once more hard and stiff and ready for combat. Clasping her by her ears, he pushed the spear into her mouth as far as it would go and began working it back and forth very slowly. I saw from the movement of her cheeks that she was sucking hard. She then wanted to withdraw it but he commanded her in his quiet manner to hold still. I was surprised to see how she obeyed him, quietly permitting him to poke her in the mouth. He kept this up for quite a while. I simply stared. I had lost all my passion and excitement. I was simply exhausted. Once more she begged him: “Come, sonny, let us poke.” But he, becoming angry, said: “Damn you, hold still.” She allowed him to return it to her mouth, moving as before. It was obvious that he was going to finish in this manner. Suddenly he cried out: “Now the end, with pleasure.” He slowly withdrew from her red lips, almost to the end, and then slowly pushed the organ in again. At this she suddenly went wild, shouting: “No! No! You must poke me!” And, seizing him as one would a small child, she threw him on his back on the couch and, placing herself astride of him, pushed his sword up into her scabbard. Then she jumped up and down like mad until she finally gained her goals. Then she sank back exhausted, completely hiding him under her great bulk. The orgy now over, Clementina served us chocolates such as I had never tasted before. When I was ready to leave, she accompanied me to the door. In the dark hallway, she put her hand under my dress, squeezed my grotto and kissed me. She then handed me a silver coin, again admonishing me not to tattle, and said that I might come again. I opened the door and left for home.