The Confessions Of Nemesis Hunt by George Reginald Bacchus

Author:George Reginald Bacchus [Bacchus, George Reginald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 1901-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER II

Well, Restall pulled my tights off and likewise undressed himself. Then he drew back to inspect me and commented on my fine legs. He kissed me from toes to ankles while his fingers played with my pussy. He then pushed my legs apart and guided his prick into me.

It was a long fuck, I daresay it was not his first that day, as all the chorus girls were ready to oblige him. But I know he loved it.

Finally, he came fairly copiously, said not a word and got up. After I washed myself, I found tongue. “Well, l suppose I may please myself about my love affairs?” I said.

“Oh, certainly, but I shall want an occasional reminder.” I took a quiet kiss and departed.

Jimmy was home when I arrived and greeted me roughly—where the devil had I been, etc.— when I told him that the Guvnor had kept me on a matter of business, but to my astonishment he became pacified at once, although the Guvnor’s business chats with the pretty members of his chorus were notorious.

Jimmy was very lustful that night. He paid little respect to our house companion, but pulled me away onto his knees, directly the landlady left, covered my lips with kisses, massaged my breasts and slid his hand under my skirt. I protested, but “Oh, she doesn’t mind,” was his answer.

“Do what you like, old dears, only don’t drive me from the fireside yet,” was Letty’s comment.

So I abandoned myself. Finally, however, Letty bade us good night. We stayed, undressed and were stark naked before the fire. On a pile of pillows and rugs. How wonderful Jimmy’s body looked, and what a change from Restall’s elderly wrinkled paunchy nakedness, though there wasn’t much difference in the size of their cocks.

I can hardly describe the pleasure—what a weak word—of the contact of our hot bodies. I was content to play for a while, for Restall had tired me somewhat. I found out afterwards that one of the pretty dressmakers had gone down on him and sucked him off before I appeared that night. She must have scented her mouth or he must have scented his prick for it tasted delightful, when I pressed my lips to it.

Well, I spent and spent and spent…

“That reminds me!” and the typewriter ceases clicking.

“Another interruption,” I answer, “in the middle of one of my best scenes.

“But this is funny,” says Gladys.

“It’s too damned funny, why the fucking hell don’t you wait till you are asked to talk…”

I am angry but Gladys only laughs.

“There, you must listen!” she says. “It’s the tale of the leading society actress beauty, and of the nasty little drunken racing man who had a proprietary interest in her body because of the money he spent on its adornment.

“‘Good gracious,’ said he, ‘I spent enough on you to build a battleship.’

“‘And you’ve spent enough in me to float one,’ was the dulcet answer.”

“Chestnuts,” said I.

I choke off Gladys’ further story telling with a liberal brandy and soda and a smack on her bottom.

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