The cuck in literature (continued)

Excerpt From: Anonymous. “My Secret Life.”

“I thought all was over but it was not, her rutting was unabated. “Keep it in dear — you’ll spend again” — “I can’t” — “Yes, lie still.” — Again her thighs clipped his, and her hands clutched his backside. I felt under his balls the genial mucilaginous moisture of their passions oozing. His prick was small and I slid my finger up her cunt besides it. — He never noticed it. “Don’t you b**st,” — said she. — “Give me some champagne.” I withdrew my moistened finger, gave her a glass, filled my mouth with some and emptied that into hers. She took it kissing me. She was mad for the male tho she murmured after her habit. — “Ain’t we b**sts?” — “No love, it’s delicious, no b**st could do what we do.” — He lay now with eyes closed, almost asleep, insensible, half only upon her, his face half buried in the pillow. — She raised her head partially, not disturbing his body, I held up her head, and a full glass of champagne went down her throat. — Then she fell back again and put her hand between their bellies. “Is his prick out?” said I. No reply made she — I put my hand under his buttocks, touched his prick which was still swollen, found she was introducing it to her quim and it touched my hand in doing it. — I saw that heave, jog and wriggle of her backside, her legs cross his, her hands clamp onto his buttocks, the jog, jog gently of her rump, then knew that again his pendant doodle was well in her lubricious cunt, and that she’d keep it there. — “How wet your cunt is, H*l*n,” said I. — “b**st” she softly murmured and began fucking quicker, tho he lay quite still. — Her eyes were again closed, her face scarlet. “Feel his balls,” said she softly. — “Do you like my doing it?” — “Yes, it will make him stiff — do that again.” — Her eyes opened on me with a fierce baudiness in them as she said that. — The exquisite voluptuous look, the desire of a virgin was no more there — delirious rutting, obscene wants in their plenitude was in them, the fiercest lust. — Up went my finger in her bum, — “Aha. — Aha — God” — sobbed she in quick staccato ejaculations. — “Fuck me dear. He roused himself at that, grasped her buttocks, thrust for a little time then relaxed his hold and lay lifeless on her. “I can’t do it, I’m sure.” — “You can, lay still a little.” — Still he laid like a log, but not she. — An almost imperceptible movement of her rump and thighs went on, ever and anon her eyes opened on me with a lustful glare, then closed again, and not a word she spoke whilst still her thighs and buttocks heaved. — I knew her cunt was clipping, was nutcracking his tool, — often times I’ve felt that delicious constriction of her cunt, as in baudy reverie I’ve laid upon her, half faint with the voluptuous delight of her embrace. — Some minutes ran away like this, whilst I was looking at their nakedness, feeling his balls withdrawing my finger from her, then gently, soothingly replacing it up her bum, frigging my own prick every now and then — none of us spoke. Then more quickly came her heaves, he recommenced his thrust. “Fuck dear, — there — it’s stiff. — Ahaa — yes — you’ll spend soon.” — “Yes” murmured he. — “Yes, — shove hard — give me your spunk.” All was so softly murmured and with voices so fatigued, that I could scarcely hear them. Again I took my finger from her bumhole (for the position fatigued my hand), on they went slowly, again he stopped, again went on, each minute quicker, and soon furiously rammed hard whilst she heaved her backside up and down, thumping the bed which creaked and rocked with their boundings, and the champagne glasses on the tray jingled. Up into her bum hole went my finger. “Aharr,” she shivered out. — “Bugger — fuck — fuck Harry — quicker — aharr — my God — I shall die — y’r spunk’s — com — com — aharr — God — I shall go mad.” — “Ohooo” groaned he. Her sphincter tightened and pinched my finger out, another bound up and down, one more scream, then both were squirming, another scream from her, a hard short groan from him, and then she threw her arms back above her head, lay still with eyes closed, mouth wide open, face blood red, and covered with perspiration, her bosom heaving violently.
He rolled half off of her, his prick lay against her thigh dribbling out thin sperm, his face covered with perspiration and again half buried in the pillow and laying nearly a lifeless mass at once he slept. Her thighs were wide apart, no sperm showing: his spend must have been small. Both were fucked out, exhausted with amorous strain. My strength had been gradually returning, and prick stood like a horn as I felt again his prick, and thrust my fingers up her lubricious cunt. No heed took either of my playing with their genitals. — I forgot the pains in my temples — cared not whether I died or not, so long as I could again penetrate that lovely body, could fuck and spend in that exquisite cunt. Pouring out more champagne I roused her and she drank it at a draught. “Am I not a b**st?” said she falling back again. — “No love, and I’ll fuck you.” — “No, no. You cannot, I’m done and you’d better not.” — “I will.” Pushing the lad’s leg off hers — he fast asleep — and tearing off my shirt, I threw myself upon her naked form and rushed my prick up her. Her cunt seemed large and wet but in a second it tightened on my pego. — Then in short phrases, with baudy ejaculations, both screaming obscenities, we fucked. — “Is my prick larger than his?” — “Ah, yes” — “longer?” — “yes — aha, my God leave off, you’ll kill me — I shall go mad.” — “Ah, darling — cunt — fuck.” — “Aha — prick — fuck me you bugger — spunk in me arsehole fuck — bugger — fuck — fuck.” — With screams of mutual pleasure we spent together, then lay embracing, both dozing, prick and cunt joined in the spermy bath.
“Get up love, I want to piddle,” said she. I rolled off of her belly. — She rose staggering but smiling, kissed me and looked half ashamed. Her hair was loose, her face blood red and sweaty, her eyes humid with pleasure, and puffy and blue the skin under her eyes. She sat on the pot by the bedside looking at me and I at her, and still with voluptuous thoughts she put up her hand and felt my prick. — “You’ve fucked me well.” — “My God! aren’t we three b**sts — I’m done for.” — “So am I.”