The Memoirs of Josephine Mutzenbacher (vintage erotica) (6 page)

“Yes! Yes!” he gasped, “way in-but it won't go.” I pushed him away, saying: “No, not that way-but it will go!” “But how?”

I turned my back to him, reached back between my legs, took his spear in my hand and inserted it. He grunted like a pig, as his mammoth member, which I had moistened with my saliva, slipped into me, he pushing it in further and further-indeed even further than Mr. Horak had succeeded in doing. It felt so glorious that I could not wish for anything more! He had now become so wild with passion, that I had to push away his hands-which clawed at my mound-or he would have torn me apart. I was already bleeding. I squeezed my sphincter together and he groaned loudly with pleasure. I enjoyed his groaning, so I squeezed repeatedly; but in consequence he discharged before I wanted him to. Then, exhausted, he leaned against the wall.

As I raised up, I shook with pleasure, feeling as though his energetic engine was still inside me; at this, the juices which he had injected there ran down the insides of my legs, tickling me as they dripped. But I could not rest. Under the pretense of wiping him off, I again began pushing his foreskin back and forth. He begged me to leave him alone. But I was not satisfied. I was still thinking of Shani -his mother, his two sisters, so unabashed in a way in which I had never yet acted towards Mr. Eckhard. I asked: “Have you ever done this naked?” He remarked: “Why, you have been in bed with me!” To this I replied: “Yes, but I mean all naked- without anything on?” He asked: “Have you done it that way?” “No,” I replied, “but I would like to. Have you ever done it that way?”

“Of course! Why, I was married once.” “Did your wife die?”

“No, she is not dead.” “Then, where is she?” “Why, she got to be a whore!” I remembered Mr. Horak calling me that. I asked: “Well, then, perhaps I am a whore?” “Oh, no!” he laughed outright. “You are my dear, little pepi!” At that he caressed me, and I, taking advantage of this, began playing with his shaft.

“"I never poked a little girl like you,” he continued. “Why do you like to poke so much?” Instead of answering, I stooped over and took his device so far into my mouth that the hair tickled my face. But he would not get stiff. After a while he murmured: “Oh, that feels so good!” Then, taking the instrument out of my mouth, he rubbed it around my grotto with his hand. It tickled as if a big tongue were licking me. “Is that good?” “Yes! But why doesn't it stand up again?” I asked. “I want it to stand up again!”

“If your mother knew what you are doing-” he suddenly remarked.

I laughed, saying: “Mother would like to have father's stand oftener.” Getting curious, he asked: “How do you know that?” (Still he continued playing around my slit with his soft machine.)

I told him of the scene which I had overheard. He listened eagerly and then said: “So she told him she would find someone else to poke her?” And just then, his shaft rose up stiff as ever. He put me on his lap, astride him, and forced himself inside me as far as he would go. I began jumping up and down, and soon approached my heights. I told him: “I am coming again-don't put it in so far-that hurts there-there-I am coming again-!” “At this, he asked: “Why wouldn't your mother let me poke her?” As I jumped up and down, I replied: “I don't know!” He said: “Ask your mother to let me. Will you do that for me?” “Yes,” I said, “but keep on, please-oh! That feels so good!” He was now pumping away in grand style, becoming more and more stiff as he thought of what I had told him. Meanwhile my mind was on Shani's mother and two sisters. “Do you think your mother would let me?” he asked again, coughing.

“Perhaps! I don't know,” I answered, as he began pushing harder.

I warned him: “Not so deep!” “I suppose with your mother I could get it all the way in?” “Certainly!” “Would you like to have me poke your own mother?” To please him, I answered: “Yes!” Just then he began to squirt. I jumped up, but, since he had not finished, he got mad, saying: “Lie still, you imp-you fool-don't run away before I am through!” So I had to finish it with my hand. It seemed as though he would never get through. Since it had now become dark, I went to bed. Mr. Eckhard did the same. But after awhile I got up, went to his room, took my chemise and stood before his bed-naked. At first he did not want me, but he soon began petting my naked body, my breasts and my kitten. Then he rubbed my nipples with his wet finger tips, then my stomach. Finally he began to play inside me with his fingers. By this time I was so passionate that I was trembling. I was afraid that some one might come in, so I pleaded: “Come on, Mr. Eckhard-hurry up! Somebody might come!”

“Hurry? What for?” he asked. I whispered: “I want to poke you!” “Now listen,” he said, lifting me onto the bed and sitting me on his knee, trying to see my face in the dark: “I have poked you three times already today and you still want more?” “Yes, but naked!” I replied. “Just look at your kitten!” he exclaimed. “It's all done up for this evening!” “But that is not from this evening,” I said, not thinking. “So!” From when is it?” he said, slipping his finger into my slit, which excited me still more. “So, who have you been poking? It seems to me that you are doing 'it' entirely too much! Tell me, who was it?” and he kept on manipulating his finger inside me. I was almost crazy with excitement, but thinking quickly, I decided to tell him about Mr. Horak, since he was also a grown-up man. “Well, who has been poking you today besides me?” Mr. Eckhard pressed, bending over me. Filled with curiosity, he still plied his finger in my canal. “Who?” You must tell me!”

“Mr. Horak!” I replied. “The beer agent downstairs?”

“Yes!” “Since when?” “A long time!” “Before I poked you?” “No, afterwards!” “Where did he catch you?”

“In the cellar.” “And how did it happen that he 'used' you so hard?” “Because he has such a long shaft!” “How long? Longer than mine?” “Yes, much longer- but not so thick!”

“And how often does he poke you at a time?” I lied to this, saying: “Always five times.” At this he became excited, saying: “All right. Come on! I will poke you once more!” I slid under him. He raised my chemise away up and I felt his naked body against me. But it was no use; his member was soft and would not stand up.

“Damn it!” he whispered, “and surely I would like to!” “So would I,” I answered, pressing up against him. But still he could not become stiff again. “Come,” said he, “take it in your mouth again; that will make it stand!” I kept on trying, playing with it. “Take it in your mouth. I suppose that you do that with Mr. Horak also?” “Yes!” I confessed. He then began moving in the bed and I moved down until his tool touched my mouth. Immediately I took it between my lips, fearful that some of the folks might return home. His stomach was on my face- I could hardly breathe- but I kept right on with all my might. The fear of being discovered worried me. Mr. Eckhard had buried his face in a pillow and began working up and down as though he already inside me. After awhile, I felt his engine getting harder and harder, until I could not take it all in my mouth anymore. I felt the pulse beats and it began to quiver. Quick as a cat, I slipped higher until I felt it between my legs. Taking hold of it, I quickly forced it into my opening as far as I could-holding my hands around that part remaining out. I was so much pleased as I felt it working in and out. He now poked like mad-saying: “I never would have thought I could do it once more! “Push harder!” I begged, “Push harder-!” Putting his hands on my breasts, he played with the nipples with his wet fingers so vigorously that I felt the pleasure down to the soles of my feet! Loosening my hands slightly, I felt him going in deeper inside me! “Wait,” he said, “now you little imp-you little whore-I'll show you!” Pressing his mouth to my ear, he started licking his tongue around it and in it. I felt as though I were playing with someone and at the same time felt as though I were being poked by six men at once-in my kitten-my mouth-both ears and my nipples. I could hardly refrain from screaming with pleasure. “Lord! Mr. Eckhard-that is so good! I will let nobody else ever do it to me again but you-Lord! I am coming-put it away in! I let him in a little deeper; it began to hurt, but I did not mind. “Just wait!” he whispered as he kept on working his tongue in my ear: “I'll teach you how to poke -I'll fix you so that you won't want to go to that cellar again and poke on beer barrels. I'll poke you as I did my wife-even if I knock you up-I don't care! Keep on working up against me. There-do you feel that?” I was so overcome that I kept on poking and talking: “No, Mr. Eckhard, I'll not go into that cellar any more-I'll never let Mr. Horak poke me again. Nobody-only you-just you alone-I will never stay with Alois again-nor Franz-nor Robert-no soldier again-only you!” “You have had so many pokes already?” “Yes,” I said, “and a number of other boys!”

He kept on poking with great energy. “Well then, I need not worry that you will ever accuse me.” “No, Mr. Eckhard,” I stammered in ecstasy, “you must poke me every day-you feel so good!” Said he: “Oh! I am coming again-keep on-faster- harder-if anything happens- you- you must say that Horak did it-you must let me poke you every day-yes, every day-oh-ah-ah! Let happen what will-I will keep on poking you until you can get it all in!” And so we kept on, without conversation. My hands burned, my “kitten" burned; my ears burned; my breath came short. Eckhard now was working like a machine!

We kept on at least for an hour! Several times I ventured to ask: “Aren't you through soon?” “No!” he said. “Not yet?”

“Soon!” After a while: “Please, Mr. Eckhard-it is hurting me terribly!” “Right away, my dear. Can't you come again?” “No! I can't come anymore. Please squirt-please, Mr. Eckhard, please do 'go off'!” He made one awful push. I thought that he would split me in two. Then he began to ejaculate-so much that it seemed like he was urinating. When it was over, he laid on me like a log, groaning. I crawled out from under him, half dazed.

Pushing me away, he said: “Now, get out of here, you imp-you damned little whore!” Without answering I went to my bedroom, put on my shirt, threw myself on the bed. My slit burned like fire inside and around the edges. I thought that I must be torn and bleeding. I lit a lamp and examined myself with a hand mirror. I found no blood, but was surprised to see how red and inflamed I was and how open my grotto stood. I ached all over. Lying down, I blew out the light and in a few minutes heard the folks returning home. I pretended that I were asleep, and I finally did fall asleep. The next day Mr. Eckhard was sick. He remained in bed, putting cold towels on his head and I believe on some other place. I felt good, with the exception of a slight inflammation in my slit. Mr. Eckhard did not look at me and I avoided talking to him. He slept mostly all day, but as I passed his bed in the evening, he whispered; “This is your fault!” I became frightened at this, and running to mother's room, I asked her:

“What ails Mr. Eckhard?” She answered: “I don't know; he is sick.” In a few minutes she went into the kitchen and I heard her inquire: “What really seems to be the matter, Mr. Eckhard?” I became terribly frightened, as I was sure that he would say: “It is pepi's fault.” But he whispered something that I could not understand, and then I heard mother say: “Go on, don't tell me that!” I carefully tip-toed to the door to listen, cost what it might I was bound to hear what was going on. He whispered again and she said in low tones: “But why did you do that?” He answered: “The girl got me excited! I tell you that I was crazy!” Listening to this, I was very much frightened. Mother then said: “But she must have been a dirty bitch?” To which he replied: “No-no-no-she was just a child and did not know what she was doing! She was about as old as your Pepi,” at which I breathed easier. But mother clasped her hands together, saying: “And you dared mistreat a child?” Mr. Eckhard laughed, saying: “Nonsense! Mistreat nothing! When she herself takes my tool out of my pants and puts it in her mouth and begins to suck? How could I mistreat a child, doing such a thing?” Mother was indignant, saying: “How bad the children are nowadays; it shows that you cannot watch them enough.” Then she lowered her voice to a whisper, so I could only surmise what she was saying from his answers. He seemed to be getting better, as he remarked: “Why, no, it wouldn't go in at all-just a little ways-give me your hand-I will show you!” “No! No! Thank you! What are you thinking of?” “Well, there would be no harm,” said Mr. Eckhard. Mother interrupted him, saying: “How often did you say?” He lied: “Six times!”

I was amused by this, as I knew that mother had no idea of the facts. “Six times I had to do it. She would not rest!” “Go on!” mother broke in. “Impossible! Six times! Why do you lie like that?” “But I will tell you,” he insisted, “you see I can hardly move-six times!” “Oh no-” Mother did not believe him, “no man can stand that!” “Listen, Mrs. Mutzenbacher, hasn't your husband ever done it to you six times?” Mother snickered, saying: “Yes, what of it-?” Just then someone came in, which ended the conversation, but I felt relieved of all fear. Mr. Eckhard was sick for several days. He did not remain in bed, but he walked around the kitchen in his drawers and slippers and an old overcoat over his shoulders. He often sat with mother and I noticed that they still talked about “the affair.” A few days later, I was excused from school at ten o'clock in the morning. Going home, I saw that there was no one in the kitchen, but as I looked through the glass door leading into the bedroom- which was locked-I spied mother and Mr. Eckhard. I kept very quiet, hoping to overhear their conversation. Sneaking to the door, I listened. Mother was saying: “You heard nothing. That is a lie!”

He replied: “But just think back? You told him that you had not 'gone off' yet, and wanted him to make a second round!” Mother laughed, saying: “Him-and a second round? I am happy that he is able to make the first round!” “Well, you see,” Eckhard eagerly replied, “he is so weak that he comes before you do.” Mother answered: “I guess that other men are no better.” “But that is where you are mistaken,” replied Mr. Eckhard. “I can hold it back as long as I like. It makes no difference if you want to come three times before I 'go off' once!” Mother laughed. “Anybody can say that! I don't believe it!” “Let me try it and I will show you!”