The Memoirs of Josephine Mutzenbacher (vintage erotica) (14 page)

Kneeling down, I did as she had shown me. He stood erect, his hands folded across his chest. I took his bag in my left hand and squeezed until my fingers ached. At the same time I used the switch. His lance got stiffer at every stroke. It wobbled back and forth like a staff in the wind. Suddenly he 'went off!' It was so unexpected that I got the full discharge in my face. When he had rid himself, Zenzi stopped and sat down on the couch to rest. “Oh, Princess! Oh, my worthy Countess!” he sobbed. I remained seated on the floor, wiping my face, wondering what would happen next, still thinking that he would either poke one or the other of us. For a short time he stood motionless, as one in deep thought. Then he hastily put on his clothes. Walking to the corner of the room he deposited something on a chair, and, without one further glance at us, left the room. As soon as he had closed the door, Zenzi rushed to the chair, picked up two ten golden guldens. Dancing around the room, she gave me one, shouting: “That is great, don't you thing so?” I was dumbfounded, but of the same opinion.

A
few days later a man in a velvet suit followed me. He looked like an Italian. He had black hair and, as was the custom of the Italians and the French, at that time, wore a goatee. I turned into a side street. It was only two o'clock in the afternoon. Remembering the vacant house, I went to it and waited in the hall. He came in at once and began to feel my titties.

“Well, how about it?” he asked. (They all ask about the same question.) I answered: “Shall I go first?” “Where to?” he asked. “Lantern Street; it is near here,” I said. “No,” he replied, “I don't want to go there with you.” I was prepared for this, so I answered smiling: “All right! Then we'll stay here.”

“Here?” He was surprised. “Why, yes,” I said. “We can go upstairs. Nobody lives here.” “No,” he laughed. “Then from “behind,'“ I continued. He shook his head. I thought perhaps that he wanted me to go through some performance like the one which Zenzi and I had practiced on the young man. “Do you want to be switched?” I asked. “My God, but you are blase,” he said. “But, no, not that either.” “Well, then, I don't know-I give up,” I said. “I want to make photographs of you,” he said.

“Photos?” “Yes-nude pictures in all poses.” I laughed. I never had been photographed. I hoped that I would get some nice pictures of myself. We finally arrived at our destination. He lived in a new cottage hidden in an old garden. We entered the gate, passed through a lawn and garden, then arrived at the house. It contained several rooms and a studio. We were received by a small, stout woman. She was blonde, which made her appear stouter, and had dark rings under her eyes. She was dressed in a bath robe. Giving me a friendly nod, she remarked to the man: “She will be just right.”

The photographer said: “Let us hurry and take advantage of the light.” She said: “Shall I get Albert?” “Certainly! We can't do anything without him.” She was about to leave, but he stopped her, saying: “I will get him myself. You two get ready.” He disappeared through the garden. The woman now looked at me and remarked: “He is afraid that I might be alone with Albert.” Then she led me through the house directly to the studio, which, with its glass room and high windows, impressed me very favorably. After removing a chest which hid a door through which we entered a small room, lit by one window, she ordered me to undress, which I did and she took off her bathrobe, to my surprise. “You Mme. take off everything, except your shoes and stockings,” said she. “Those you may keep on.” Standing before me in her shirt, she waited until I was undressed, then she stepped closer and looked me over. “How old are you?” she asked. “Nearly fourteen.” “Has my husband told you what he wants of you?” “Yes.” “Well, then,” she said, taking off her shirt, “the rest you will see for yourself.” “Will he photograph you too?” I asked, astonished. She laughed. “Certainly. Heretofore he has photographed only me because we have not been able to find another woman who would do. In the first place, it is too great a risk, and moreover, they are too expensive.” “What do I get?” I inquired. “Don't worry,” she said, “you will be satisfied.” I liked her friendly manner. '1 am not worrying,” I smiled. “He would not have engaged you, but he has an order for which he must have a young girl like yourself,” she said. “Why, you are still young yourself,” I said to compliment her. “Oh, yes-for such large titties, they are still solid,” she replied, lifting in her hands the objects in question. “They are nice,” I acknowledged. “Just feel them,” she said. I felt them; they were really good and solid. “Only my stomach is too big,” she went on. “Oh, no,” I assured her. “And my legs,” she said, slapping her thighs. “Much too fat.” Then, laughing, she added: “When Albert sees me like this he gets very passionate.” “I believe it,” I replied. “But then my husband gets angry,” she laughed. “But, if Albert could not get stiff, we could not take pictures, so it all works out in the end.” Now I began to realize what I was to do. Just then her husband returned. He called us and we entered the studio. I saw a young man, about eighteen years old; he might have been an errand or stable boy. He was sun-burned and had small ears and a red nose. He was fairly well dressed, slight though muscular in build. I liked his looks very much. The photographer, whose name was Mr. Capuzzi, sent the young man, whom I learned was Albert, into the dressing-room. “Hurry up,” he called. Then he started to examine me. “Not bad at all,” he remarked to his wife. “Don't you agree?” “Yes,” she answered, “she's just what you need.” “And her titties are still way up,” he remarked. “They are not completely developed yet,” she said. “No hips, of course,” he continued, “and just a few hairs.” But he was satisfied and he assured me that I would also be. Then he arranged his camera. I watched curiously as Mr. Capuzzi put his head under the black cloth. Just then Albert came out of the dressing room naked. I could not help looking at his shaft which stood straight out. Mrs. Capuzzi laughed loudly, and said: “He is actually standing again!” Capuzzi shouted: “Be quiet!”

Albert was well-built. I admired his broad chest, his muscular arms and legs, and, above all, his immense engine as it stood erect from the hair-cushion surrounding it. Capuzzi said: “Now we will begin.” Then, pushing a small, carpeted bench without sides into place, he ordered: “first you, Melani; then Albert and you-what is your name?” “Pepi,” I answered. “Well, then, Pepi-Albert you sit in the middle. Now Melani on his right and Pepi on his left.”

We hurried to our places. “Now each take hold of his shaft,” called our director. We took hold. “Albert,” said Capuzzi, “you must do something, too. Put your arms around their shoulders-no, wait a minute-that's better.” He disappeared under the black cloth, and then called out; “Don't move, Melani. Look up, Albert. Turn up your eyes!” We obeyed his orders. Melani and I holding Albert's shaft so that only the head was visible. “One, two, three, four, five, six-” Capuzzi counted. “Done!” We all jumped up. “A new pose,” Capuzzi now exclaimed. “Which one?” asked the woman.

“Lie down, Albert,” Capuzzi told him. Albert situated himself on the narrow bench, his feet hanging down on the sides.

“Melani, you stand over him,” said Capuzzi, putting a pillow on each side. She stepped on the pillow, the bench between her knees.

“Now stoop over him!” called Capuzzi. “No, not like that.”

She stooped over, bracing her arms. Her breasts hung right over Albert's face. “Now, Albert, take the breast in your hand,” said Capuzzi. Albert put his hands on her breast and began playing with the nipple. “He is getting me excited again!” called Mrs. Capuzzi.

“Albert!” shouted the photographer. “Keep your hand still, or I will get after you!” Albert quietly held her breast in his hand, but now it was Melani who moved about, rubbing against Albert's hands. “Now, see-!” said Albert. “You are playing with yourself!”

“Melani!” yelled the photographer angrily. “Well, yes-” she said. “When I am all 'worked up,' I can't help it.” “Pepi!” Capuzzi called to me, “now you put his shaft in Melani, but don't let go of it!” I took Albert's staff, holding it up, while with the other hand I sought for Melani's 'opening.' But she beat me to it, grabbing the enormous device and stuffing it wildly inside her.

“Oh,” she said, “the torture is beginning again!” “Don't put it in so far, Melani!” called out the photographer. “I must be able to see Pepi's hand!” “How's that?” she replied, raising her hips.

“There-that is all right!” “But, no!” she cried. 'That way he will slip out!” And she lowered herself to get further in.

“No! No! The devil-!” thundered her husband. She drew back again. Capuzzi ran to her and gave her a rousing slap on her ass. “You are letting him poke you, aren't you, you wench! But you can't fool me!” “We are poking anyway!” she answered hotly. “As soon as you have it in, you are poking!” “No,” Capuzzi continued, still in a rage, “that is positioning. How often have I explained that to you? Positioning I will grant, but never will I permit another man to poke my wife. She drew back again, saying: “I don't mind, but I think that the other way would be much better!” Then she lowered herself on Albert's shaft. Capuzzi was exasperated. I was still holding Albert's stem and felt it tremble. I ran my hand up to Melani's slit and could feel the lips opening and closing over the head of the rigid rod. Poor Albert was almost crazy with passion. “Will it take much longer?” asked Melani. “No. Look into the camera and smile. You too, Pepi! There-one, two, three, four, five, six-done!”

Melani jumped off Albert. “Thank God, I can't stand that any longer!” she gasped. Albert quietly remained on his back.

“Now, change about-Pepi on top!” ordered Capuzzi. I took Melani's place. “Melani, now you put it in Pepi,” her husband called. “Shall I hold her breast?” asked Albert. “Of course! Why do you ask?” Capuzzi answered. Albert put his hands on my breasts and began playing. We smiled at each other. The photographer paid no attention to us. Melani then guided his shaft into my cleft. Albert and I smiled knowingly. He began to push and I bobbed up and down. She was obliged to withdraw her hand, and called to her husband: “Now, you don't say a word! They can do as they please!” “Quiet, children!” Capuzzi said, and slowly counted: “One, two, three, four, five, six! Remain quiet!” Melani again held Albert's shaft as though trying to help. “Done!” called Capuzzi. We now started moving again, but Melani got mad and shouted: “Albert! Will you stop?” “Albert will you stop that!” thundered Capuzzi in an echo. Now the photographer tore me from my comfortable place. “That-I strictly forbid!” he told me. “Later you can do what you like!” We now started to prepare a new pose. Albert had to stay on the bench. Melani, kneeling, had to take his shaft into her mouth! “Only the point!” cautioned Capuzzi “just for position!”

I had to stand over Albert's head, with my cleft to his lips. He began to play on my twig with his tongue. I could feel that he was an artist at it. I began to wiggle and he stopped at once and held the position for the photographer. Melani was doing her share. I could see it by the movement of her cheeks and the perking of Albert's tool. She was breathing hard and anxiously watching her husband. When he put his head under the black cloth, she took a chance and put Albert's device away into her mouth. Just then Capuzzi began to count: “One, two, three, four, etc.-“ Albert gave my grotto a parting kiss.

Capuzzi commanded: “Change about!” It was my turn to take Albert's shaft in my mouth, and I did it in a way which proved to him that I was as efficient in this art as was he. He must have been convinced, judging from the way he acted. Melani then propped on his head. I could see that they were not just holding position, but she was bearing down hard, her eyes rolling, her lips trembling. Soon she drew her husband's attention. “Melani!” Capuzzi shouted. “Stop that! Instead, with your titties. Act as though you were trying to kiss the nipples!” She raised her breasts and lowered her head. Taking advantage of this opportunity, she also hurriedly bobbed up and down a few times. At this, Albert's tongue must have slipped, for I heard a smacking noise. Capuzzi also heard it and running to Albert, shouted: “I really believe you are 'sucking' my wife 'off!'“

“I am not!” Albert blubbered, straining under the great weight that was resting on him. “I warn you not to,” Capuzzi said, stooping to see what was going on. “But he is not doing anything!” Melani at one replied. Capuzzi looked at her face and remarked: “Why, you are all excited!” “Naturally!” she said, “I am always excited while doing this! I am not made out of wood. Hurry up so we can get through!” While Capuzzi was returning to his camera, she quickly got in a few more wiggles, which Albert returned with his tongue. But Capuzzi was ready before she could finish.

While Capuzzi was returning to his camera, she quickly got in a few more wiggles, which Albert returned with his tongue. But Capuzzi was ready before she could finish. His monotonous “one, two, put an end to the pleasure which we were having. We jumped apart. “What now?” asked Melani, standing there trembling. “Now you lie down,” her husband said. She obeyed. “Now Pepi, you straddle her mouth and Albert will lie on top of you.” “No!” Melani protested, “I don't want to lick her!” “You need not do that,” Capuzzi replied. “Just hold the position.” “Well, I don't want anything in my mouth,” Melani answered. “Well, then, let Pepi lie down,” Capuzzi suggested, “and you stand over her.” But his wife would not agree to this, either. She did not want to miss the opportunity of getting at Albert's tail. “I'll tell you what,” she said. “Let Pepi play with my titties. That will not look so vulgar.” Capuzzi finally agreed to this, and, kneeling beside her, I took both breasts in my lips and, sucking the nipples, did all I could to help her have a little pleasure. She could not resist pushing up and down several times. With one jump, Capuzzi was at her side. Giving her a resounding slap on the face, he shouted: “You can't stop wriggling, can you?”

“You rough brute!” she sobbed; “Pepi was sucking my titties and I could not help it.” “Stop sucking!” he said to me. “That is only an excuse,” he scolded Melani. “You are always thinking of trying to be poked by Albert. I know!” “Let me alone!” she replied. “Is it any wonder a person becomes excited and has to move when she has such a big shaft shoved into her?” “Well, well, you can wait. I will do it for you as soon as we have finished,” he said, disappearing under the cloth. Then: “One, two, three, etc.-” and he had finished. “I must go now to the dark room,” Capuzzi told us. “Don't you dare do anything while I am gone or I will kill you!”

But, as soon as he left, Melani said: “My dearest Albert, wouldn't you like to poke me just once?” “Oh, yes!” the youth replied. “I gladly would- but I don't dare.” “Oh, God! Oh, God!” Melani lamented to me, “you can't imagine how I love that boy! You can't imagine how I wish that he would poke me-just once, even!”

“Well, why don't you do it?” I asked, astonished. “Why don't you do it now-quick!” “But how?” She pointed to the door through which Capuzzi had disappeared. “Through that red glass he can see everything.” I noticed a small pane of dark glass in the door.

“Yes, that is it,” she said sadly. “For two months we have been working like this. Two long months, I have had a shaft in my hands, in my mouth, between my titties-in my grotto-every place, but always only the point, always only the beginning! I feel that I am going crazy!”