The Memoirs of Josephine Mutzenbacher (vintage erotica) (3 page)

A
fter the delightful experience with Mr. Eckhard- for that was the bearded boarder's name-I began to look around for other grown-up men, imagining myself sitting on their knees and playing with their shafts. I looked at many different men. They would stop and stare at me, astonished. One man turned around once and winked at me, but I did not follow him, although I was much excited. After this incident, I often walked out on the streets, hoping to meet a second Mr. Eckhard. At one time, having gone farther away from home than usual, I got lost. Soon it began to grow late and got dark. Presently I met a soldier. I smiled at him, and he looked at me in astonishment, but kept right on walking. Since no one was in sight, I stopped and turned and saw that the soldier had also stopped and was looking back at me. I again smiled and he beckoned to me. My heart was throbbing and my grotto burning, I was so excited. Nevertheless, I stood still, much frightened and yet wildly curious. He hurried back and with a very sober face asked me: “Are you alone?” I nodded. “Then come,” he said, and he led the way round to the bushes. Still frightened but highly elated, I followed him. We had scarcely reached the bushes when he threw me down on my back and at once got on top of me. I felt his big stiff shaft as he pushed it against my slit. I put my hand down and tried to guide it into me. I hurt at every movement, but I said nothing. At last, almost wild, he made a strong effort. I felt the head going into me. It pained me so that I wanted to scream, but I bit my lips to keep quite. I did not want him to stop. Suddenly he 'went off.' Jumping up like a rabbit, he then ran away, not even looking back at me. My insides burned something terrible and I could hardly walk.

But I had been poked. Really and truly poked. All the way in. I had at last lost my maidenhead. As I came out of the bushes and started walking away, I saw the soldier urinating against a tree. It was not quite dark and I began to get scared. I still had no idea of where I was, but I began to walk wildly in random directions, hoping to discover some familiar landmark. I had hardly gone a hundred yards when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Frightened, I turned around and saw a ragged boy somewhat older than myself.

“What did you do with that soldier?” he inquired. “Nothing!” I replied. “So, nothing! I saw it all!” “You saw nothing!” I shouted, almost crying. At this he put his hand between my legs, feeling my still-damp fleece. “You wench,” he said, “I saw the whole business. You were poked by the soldier back in the bushes.”

“Well, what do you want?” I asked him. (I saw that there was no use of further denial.) He stepped up closer to me, squeezing my mound and said: “I want to poke you too, do you understand?” “No! No! Get away, get out of here.” But he slapped me in the face. “I'll show you who to push!” he said. “You'll poke a soldier; me, you want to push away! I'll show you! I'll follow you home and tell your mother. I know you.” With a jump I stepped aside and started to run, but he caught up with me, took me by the shoulder and was about to slap me again. When I saw that it was no use, I said: “All right, come on. I'll let you poke m%.” We went back to the bushes and I got down. He lifted my dress and lay on top of me, saying: “All afternoon I have been waiting for some girl to poke!” “How did you happen to see me?” “I was lying on the grass when the soldier came to you and then I followed the two of you.” He had a nice, pointed spear and poked quite well. I soon began to enjoy it, wondering why I had tried to run away from him. The boy must have enjoyed it too, for he was working like clockwork. Although it was quite painful, I was a very proud girl. Again I was being poked like a grown woman. It took quite a little time for the boy to finish, but at last he was through, at which he jumped up and ran away, and I started walking again. Presently I recognized a familiar building, found my street and made my way home. When I arrived, I found that father and mother were gone. They probably had gone to the inn for the evening. The boys were asleep and Mr. Eckhard also was asleep. When I came in, however, Mr. Eckhard awoke and he whispered to me.

I stepped up to him and he put my hand on his shaft, which was standing straight and stiff. He was completely naked, and I could feel his thighs, stem and sack-in short, everything he had! “Don't you want to diddle?” he asked. I answered: “Not tonight!” He tried to put his hand under my clothes but I drew back, afraid that he would discover that I was wet. However, I was tugging his tool with all my might and became so excited that I forgot everything else.

Raising my dress he lifted me upon him and began to work up and down, whispering: “Beautiful angel! Sweetheart!” Fortunately he did not notice my wet condition. Then he started to 'squirt' and wet me to such an extent that my skirt did not dry over night. This certainly had been an eventful day for me, nearly as eventful as the day when Robert taught me how to really poke and suck. Franz still followed Mrs. Rhinelander, and I also kept a close watch on her in order to report any new developments to my brother. I often observed her talking to a Mr. Horak, whom I suspected of being intimate with her, and in this case I was not mistaken, as it turned out later. This man was a beer salesman, coming to her house every day with a load of beer, which he unloaded into the storage room in the basement. He was a man of about thirty years, large, strong and athletic. He had a red face and wore small, gold earrings, which I particularly noticed. I thought him a fine looking man, always wearing either white overalls or a blue suit. A heavy, silver watch-chain with a small, silver horse for a charm was particularly noticeable.

One day on my return from school I saw Mrs. Rhinelander and Mr. Horak talking together. She was wearing a loose, red blouse and no corsets, and her whole breasts, even the nipples, were plainly visible. Mr. Horak leaned close to her, both of them laughing. When he reached for her titties, she pushed him away, and, when he made a movement to put his hand under her clothes, she jumped back, but all in fun. Soon they were talking earnestly in low tones, then he disappeared into the house, immediately followed by Mrs. Rhinelander, who went down to the cellar. Waiting a few moments, I crept after her. I discovered a niche in the wall from which I could see everything without being observed, there being a dim light coming through the opening between the barrels of beer. Mr. Horak and Mrs. Rhinelander were in the center of the cellar, hugging and kissing. He had unbuttoned her blouse and was playing with her breasts. They were milk-white, large and firm. I noticed that as Mr. Horak played with them the nipples seemed to grow stiff. While he was kissing her, she was feeling around the front of his trousers; then she opened the flap, reaching away up inside. As she stroked his shaft, she began to shiver, getting much excited. The enormous engine was so long that her hand seemed small beside it as she worked it up and down. I was astonished at its great length and thinness. Mr. Horak, breathing so hard that I could hear him plainly where I stood, now pushed her towards a large barrel, on which she sat with her back against the wall. She whispered: “Come quick. I can't stand this any longer!” He then took her legs in his arms and held her up while she inserted his shaft. He shoved it into her as far as he could, and she whispered hoarsely: “For goodness sake! You are pushing my stomach out of place!” Since I had never seen it done in this way before, I watched closely, missing nothing. He had his hand down between her breasts. She constantly kissed him, grunting and moaning: “Oh! I can't stand this any longer-I am going to die!-Now- don't squirt yet-I am 'coming'-my goodness-I am 'coming' again-Oh Lord!-Hold back-don't squirt, I beg you!-This is heavenly-I-Jesus-Mary-If my old man could only poke me like you do-I am 'going off again-that feels so big in me -Shove it clear in-Oh! God!-I have never had anyone as good as you are!-I can feel it clear up in my throat!-If I had only known this, you could have had it long ago!-A person must be a fool to deny herself such a great pleasure-Oh! Oh! Lord! Faster, faster!-My God!-Oh, that feels good!” Mr. Horak, however, did not answer, but kept right on poking. Meanwhile, Mrs. Rhinelander was now writhing and twisting around on the barrel, her buttocks extending away out in front. He grabbed her cheeks and, with one final push, sheathed his sword completely. “Ah!-Ah!” she moaned with pleasure. His head then sank exhausted. He withdrew his shaft and she jumped down, arranged her clothing. Then throwing herself around his neck and kissing him, she exclaimed: “Not one man in ten can do it like that!” He calmly lit a cigarette, asking: “How many times did you come?” “Oh, I don't know. At least five.”

Then, beginning to finger her breasts and slit, he asked: “How many times do you come when your husband pokes you?” She replied in a disgusted tone: “Not at all. He no sooner puts it in that he 'squirts,' just teasing me, leaving me so excited that I have to satisfy myself with my fingers!” “But why don't you tell him to treat you better?” “I do, but he says that all men poke alike; that there is no different way. But I know different! He does not dream that I get myself a little booty on the side now and then. A piece of real meat. I often think that if I could make him do it a second time it would take longer and perhaps I could 'go off,' but no use. He can't raise another shaft. Often I try taking it in my mouth, but no success. You can't imagine how far such a man can drive a woman. Sometimes I go insanely mad for want of it. He nearly drives me crazy. He simply won't poke me properly.” Horak stepped up closer to her. He was still holding her white breasts, which looked very good to me. He said: “Why don't you show me how you take it in your mouth for him. I've never had it done that way.” “I don't believe that, Mr. Horak,” replied she. “I am sure that you could have any woman you wanted. They will all be only too glad to do that for you.”

In my hiding place I thought the same and would be glad to do anything for him. “No,” he remarked, “I want it done that way by you. Come on. Show me!” He pushed her back on the barrel, still holding her breasts, and stood very close to her. “But that is not necessary with you,” she said. “You will get stiff without that.”

At which he pulled out his weapon, which now hung down soft and limber, saving: “See, he will not get stiff again!” She took hold of it, saying: “You are getting me all excited again, and I haven't got any time. I must go-” But he kept on caressing her, playing with her breasts. Suddenly she stopped and took it in her mouth. It was now his turn to cry: “Mother-Mary -and Joseph!” At that moment I heard someone descending the cellar stairs. The two lovers seemed to be too engrossed to notice. Unthinkingly I called out: “Some one is coming!” And I darted away from my hiding place.

Thunderstruck, they stared at me, unable to move. Mr. Horak put his engine back in his trousers and buttoned them hurriedly. Then he helped Mrs. Rhinelander button up her blouse. I stepped up beside them, also afraid of who might be coming. We stood there staring at each other, they looking very much ashamed but saying nothing.

The intruder happened to be the landlord of the building. He passed, nodding to us, and seemed to notice nothing unusual in our appearance. He got a broom from the corner and went back upstairs.

Mr. Horak stood staring at the wall, not daring to look at me. Mrs. Rhinelander, seeing that he would not talk, caught my hands, crying: “Did you see anything, dearie?” I shook my head at first, and then laughed. I said: “I saw the whole thing!” She became frightened and seemed about to run away. Then she apparently thought better of it. She continued to hold me and they looked at each other helplessly. Mr. Horak put his hand in his pocket and took out a silver coin, a gulden, which he handed to me. I was much pleased at this turn of affairs, for I had expected a good thrashing at least. Now, however, all my anxiety vanished as I realized that they were afraid of me. I laughed, starting to go, but Mrs. Rhinelander called me back, saying in a wheedling way: “Wait a little, sweetheart!” She whispered something in Mr. Horak's ear. He turned quite red. Then she said: “Come here, little one!” As I came to her, she put an arm around me and said in a friendly way: “Now tell us. What did you really see?” When I did not answer her, she said: “Come now, tell me. Tell what you know!” And still when I did not answer, she said: “You see, you know nothing.” But I replied: “Oh, yes, I did!” “Well, then talk. Don't be afraid of Mr. Horak. If you tell Mr. Horak he will give you a present-or he'll show you something nice. Well, now-?” “First you sat on the barrel and Mr. Horak was between your legs!” She hugged me tightly, saying: “Well, go on!”

I took out her breasts, showing how Horak had played with them.

She asked: “Well, anything else?” I again whispered into her ear: “I saw you take this thing in your mouth.” Still holding me tightly in her arms, she asked: “And do you know what that is called?”

Mr. Horak came closer to us. She winked at him as she again asked me. Anxious to show that I was not innocent, I answered: “Yes, Mrs. Rhinelander.” “Come, my dear girl; tell me what it is?” I snuggled close to her, refusing to tell. I could see that my teasing manner excited her. She reached over, took Mr. Horak's shaft-which was again stiff and straight-and, as I watched closely, she stroked its head and said: “Now, won't you tell?” When I remained silent, she put my hand on his shaft-to which I did not object-and slowly worked the foreskin back and forth, smiling up at him at the same time. His knees began to quiver. Mrs. Rhinelander now pushed my head down until my mouth was close to the throbbing engine. I could not resist. Taking it in my mouth, I began to suck on it. I could feel the pulsations. It was so long that I could only get a quarter of its length into my mouth. I was sucking and licking it when Mrs. Rhinelander said to him: “Don't 'squirt'; I want some too!” She now put me down off her lap and at once buried his sword in her scabbard. Then, turning to me, she said: “Now, do you know what this is called?” “Poking!” I cried. Mr. Horak reached under my dress and began playing with my 'kitten,' putting one finger after the other. My legs shook with pleasure. I seemed to be burning up. In this manner, we all three 'went off' together. Having finished, Mr. Horak, buttoning his trousers, remarked: “The child is an artist.”