When I returned home I found my father
as gloomy and austere as ever. He welcomed me
with a cold kiss and asked me a few questions as to
the progress I had made in my studies. My replies
did not appear to satisfy him and I had not been home
a week before he declared his intention to send me
to school again. I was by no means sorry to hear
of this resolve, for my brother was finishing his
education in New York, and the house was insufferably
dull. I was at once dispatched to Mount de Sales,
a convent near Baltimore. The inmates of the convent
consisted of pupils and nuns the latter
acting as instructresses to the former, assisted by
two or three priests.
I had been in the convent a year when
we received a new pupil named Margaret Maitland, the
daughter of a distinguished lawyer, residing in Baltimore.
Margaret was a beautiful girl about my own age.
She was rather tall, her eyes and hair were black,
while her skin was of a whiteness ravishing to behold.
She was exceedingly religious and
spent a great portion of her time in prayer, fasting
and vigils. I noticed that she confessed to a
Father Clark very frequently and always appeared very
happy and contented when she left the confessional.
I felt satisfied that there was something going on
which partook more of the flesh than the spirit, and
I determined to watch.
Father Clark’s apartment was
situated at the eastern extremity of the convent.
It contained a large closet, and one day I concealed
myself in it at the time I knew his penitent would
visit him. I had been there but a few minutes
before the priest entered. He was about forty
years of age, stoutly built and rather handsome.
He did not wait long before Margaret made her appearance.
She looked positively beautiful. Her eyes sparkled,
her cheeks were flushed, and her bosom rose and fell,
showing that she was laboring under some excitement.
To my extreme surprise, the moment she entered the
room she ran up to Father Clark, and throwing her
white arms round his neck kissed him passionately on
the lips. He returned her embraces and drew her
on his knee. This sight was entirely novel to
me, and my cheeks burned while my eyes almost started
from their sockets watching what would be their next
proceeding. I had not long to wait, for I saw
the priest’s officious fingers unbutton Margaret’s
dress in front and deliberately pull it off her ivory
shoulders, thus exposing two globes of snow, round,
firm, exquisitely formed, and surmounted by two strawberry
nipples, which stood out stiff. He pressed and
kissed her breasts, absolutely burying his manly face
between the soft cushions. He was, however, soon
not satisfied with this, but canting her slightly
up in his lap, he put his hand up her clothes, and
invaded the most secret recesses of her body.
This action raised her petticoats in such a manner
that it exposed, to my gaze, one of her ivory thighs,
which was large, well developed and beautifully rounded.
I could see that he was moving his hand rapidly while
Margaret seemed on the point of dying with delight.
After amusing himself a short time in this manner,
he suddenly desisted and, slipping her off his lap,
placed her on her hands and knees on the floor.
He then went to a cupboard and took from it a bunch
of rods. Margaret remained in the position which
he had placed her without making the slightest movement.
Father Clark now walked up to her and, raising her
petticoats, threw them over her head, thus exposing,
in a moment, all her hidden charms to my excited eyes.
It was a delicious sight, sufficient to have seduced
the most rigid anchorite. I could see Margaret’s
white buttocks, admirably formed, her two beautiful
thighs, and exquisitely formed legs; all was naked
from her waist down. Situated at the lower portion
of her white bottom, between her lovely thighs, I
could discern the pouting lips of her bijou, with a
line of coral marking the spot where they met.
Father Clark raised the rod and brought
it down gently on her broad, white buttocks their
hue was immediately changed to a blushing red, while
Margaret twisted and turned under the flagellation,
every movement revealing more of her exquisite Mon
Veneris. While the priest plied the rod,
he appeared to be experiencing the most delicious
sensations. Margaret’s bottom was soon as
red as a cherry, but she did not appear to mind the
flogging which she was receiving the least bit.
When the priest had continued this
exercise a few minutes, he threw down the rod, and
kneeling on the ground behind her, he unbuttoned his
pantaloons, and out leaped his staff of love, stiff,
firm and with its ruby head uncovered. He nestled
it for a moment between her buttocks, and then gently
driving the vermilion lips of her coral sheath with
his fingers, he brought his instrument to bear on
the luscious opening, and seizing her by the hips,
in another moment he was plunged to the very hilt
in her beautiful body. When Margaret felt that
the conjunction was complete she uttered a faint exclamation
of joy and wiggled her buttocks from side to side
as if to prevent her prisoner from escaping her.
The priest now began to move himself in and out of
her and as he did so, I could distinctly
see his staff appear and disappear in its warm nest.
Every time he withdrew, her vagina clasped his instrument
so tightly that he drew out the interior lips, and
each time that he plunged it into her palpitating
body, they were carried in with it. You can imagine
my sensations, dear reader, when I saw all this.
I instinctively raised my clothes and carried my hand
to my own moss-covered retreat, and forcing a finger
between the lips, I found it tightly grasped by my
vagina, and I imitated all their motions, thrusting
it in and out, my eyes being all the time fixed on
the amorous couple. The priest was evidently
in the seventh heaven of enjoyment, his hands wandered
from one beauty to another as if at a loss to know
which to take possession of. At one moment it
would be her snowy globes which still remained uncovered;
at another it would be her white belly, and then again
it was the top of her Mount of Venus. Suddenly
his motions grew quicker, his staff entered in and
out of the coral retreat so rapidly that I could no
longer detect the motion. The crisis came, and
with a smothered exclamation of joy they both discharged.
At the same moment the exciting scene I had witnessed
drew from me my tribute to the god of sexual desire.
I cultivated Margaret’s friendship
after this, and when I was intimate enough with her
I told her all I had seen. She blushed at first,
but when she saw that I could be discreet, she confessed
the whole truth to me. I found her an able instructress,
and was soon even more perfectly au fait in
all the mysteries of love, except the actual experience
of sexual intercourse with the other sex. She
made me a witness of many scenes between herself and
Father Clark, and I soon found they were both perfectly
adept in the art of procuring sexual enjoyment.
One day I discovered further evidence
of the great morality pervading in Mount de Sales.
The Lady Abbess was a handsome, fine-looking woman
of about forty years of age. She was very strict
with all the boarders of the convent, except with
two sisters named Emily and Fannie Dawson. These
two girls were her pets and were always with her.
They were both beautiful girls, with flashing dark
eyes and beautiful complexions. On the day
I refer to, Margaret Maitland came to me and whispered
in my ear that if I would come with her she would
show me a pretty sight. I followed and she led
me to the Lady Abbess’s room and told me to peep
through the keyhole. I did so and saw a very strange
scene which I will endeavor to describe to you.
Seated on a low chair near a large
sofa was Father Price. His pantaloons were down
and the lower portion of his body all uncovered; his
instrument of love stood stiff and erect. Seated
sideways towards him on the sofa I have just referred
to, was the Lady Abbess. Her dress was off her
shoulders, revealing her well-developed bust.
The lower portion of her body was entirely naked;
one of her feet rested on an ottoman, the other on
the ground; by this means one of her thighs was elevated.
Father Price had one finger in her lustful slit, while
she had grasped his staff in her hand. He was
slowly pushing his finger in and out of her warm nest,
and every now and then kissing her broad white buttocks
which were entirely at his command. But this was
not all; Emily and Fannie Dawson were also there,
acting their parts. Emily stood on the sofa with
her petticoats raised above her naval, thus revealing
her delicious thighs, her white belly and the moss-covered
domain of Venus. She was exquisitely made.
The Lady Abbess was titillating her clitoris with
her unoccupied hand, while Emily’s excited face,
the tip of her tongue slightly protruding from her
coral lips and the heaves of her alabaster buttocks
rising to meet the Abbess’s deflowering finger,
sufficiently showed the intense delights she was enjoying.
Fannie was at the other end of the sofa. She had
her back turned towards Father Price; she knelt on
the sofa with one knee, while the other leg rested
on the ground; her skirts were thrown over her head,
and her head was buried in the sofa, thus elevating
her white bottom in the air. Between her ivory
thighs we could see the panting lips of her luscious
bijou. She was rubbing the top of her slit with
one finger, and by the quivering of her buttocks, I
guessed she was enjoying herself to her heart’s
content.
Margaret and I watched all their proceedings.
Their motion soon grew fast and furious, and we were
both so excited by what we saw that we instinctively
raised each other’s petticoats and imitated their
actions on each other. I forced a finger in Margaret’s
lovely grotto, and at the same time felt her finger
caressing my clitoris. I opened my thighs to
the widest possible extent to admit her manipulation
more readily and she did the same. It was a delicious
sensation, feeling her delicate finger force its way
into my warm vagina. We kept time with the actors
in the next room, and at the very moment that I saw
the sperm go from Father Price’s instrument
to the broad, white buttocks of the Abbess, both Margaret
and myself emitted, and the Abbess and the two sisters
were not a moment behind. We then ran to our dormitories
for fear of being discovered.
A few weeks after this occurrence
my father took me away from the convent and I returned
home. Here my time passed monotonously enough,
and I wished myself back to Mount de Sales a hundred
times. But an event happened which more than
reconciled me to my change of life. This was
nothing less than a visit from Harry Duval, a cousin
who resided in Baltimore.
Harry was a fine, handsome young fellow,
about twenty-two years of age. The moment I saw
him, I felt irresistibly attracted towards him.
But I disguised my admiration with all the hypocrisy
common to young girls.
One day we were out walking together
in the beautiful grounds surrounding my father’s
house. The weather was deliciously warm and the
birds filled the air with their melodies. I was
clad very lightly, wearing a low-necked dress with
a light scarf thrown over my shoulders. We wandered
for some distance, conversing on everyday topics, when
my cousin proposed that we should rest ourselves on
the grass under the shade of a fine, large elm tree;
I consented and we sat down. Harry took my hand
in his and kissed it. I blushed at this familiarity
but did not withdraw it from his grasp. By degrees
he grew more enterprising, and drawing me towards
him, imprinted a kiss on my lips. I now made
an effort to withdraw myself from his grasp but he
held me tightly.
“Dear Kate,” said he,
“I love you with all my heart and soul.”
“Oh Harry,” I replied,
“you have said that to hundreds of others.”
“Pray, darling it
is you alone that possesses my heart. I swear
I love none but you.”
So saying, he imprinted fresh kisses
on my lips in spite of the resistance I made.
To tell the truth, my resistance was getting weaker
and weaker, for I felt a delicious feeling run through
my body such as I had never experienced before.
He grew bolder and almost devoured me with kisses.
In our struggle the light scarf which I wore on my
shoulders became displaced and my neck and the upper
portion of my bust were bare. The sight of my
white shoulders appeared to electrify Harry, for he
immediately brought his lips to bear upon them, and
caressed and patted them with his hand. He did
not stop here, however. My dress was rather loose
in front and he had the audacity to invade the secrets
of my bosom. The pressure he made caused some
of the buttons to give away behind and my frock fell
completely off my shoulders, revealing to his gaze
my two “orbs of snow,” as he called them.
He immediately took possession of them and molded
and pressed them with his hands, at the same time
gently titillating the strawberry nipples which, under
his lascivious touches, stood out stiff. I was
now completely on fire and no longer opposed him.
To tell the truth, I was as anxious as he to experience
the acme of love. Harry kissed and caressed my
bubbies for some minutes, and while thus engaged,
one of his hands was furtively raising my petticoats.
At last I felt one of his hands on my naked thigh a
shiver of desire ran through my frame. He cautiously
ascended the snowy columns, and in a moment or two
I felt an impudent finger in the outskirts of the
domain of Venus. I instinctively lifted up my
thighs in order to facilitate his curious researches,
and soon experienced the most delicious sensations,
for his finger had already divided the lips which
formed the entrance of my moss-covered retreat.
He gently pushed it forward until it was clasped tightly
by the warm sides of my vagina. While he was
acting in this manner he kissed me repeatedly on the
lips and breast, only pausing to suck the rosy nipples
which surmounted the two semiglobes. Although
he addressed every term of endearment to me, I was
too much excited to make any reply. For in a
few moments he continued his delicious play, titillating
the interior of my Mons Veneris, while he
caressed my clitoris with his thumb, sending a lava
of delight through my frame. In spite of all
my endeavors not to appear too lascivious, I could
not help moving my buttocks in response to his soul
inspiring touches I felt the crisis approaching.
At that moment I saw him tear open the front of his
pantaloons and out jumped his member, as stiff as an
iron bar. With his unoccupied hand he seized
mine and bore it down on the menacing object.
I seized it in my grasp and began to imitate his motions.
This was more than Harry could bear, for I had scarcely
made half a dozen movements when my cousin, frantically
seizing me around the waist, stretched my length on
the green sward. In one moment he was between
my thighs, which I am willing to confess were opened
wide enough to receive him, and in another moment
his instrument had penetrated the lips of my most
secret charms, and was imbedded to the very hilt in
my body. Oh God! the ecstasy I felt when the conjunction
was complete I can never describe. He reposed
for a moment or two in this condition and then began
to gently heave his buttocks. I responded with
a corresponding motion and no tongue can tell the delights
I enjoyed as his delicious staff rushed in and out
of the sheath destined by nature to receive it.
“Oh, Harry,” I exclaimed,
“this is too much I am suffocating
with pleasure darling, dar-dar ”
The crisis came; a flood of rapture
escaped from me while I felt his copious discharge
lubricate the very mouth of my womb. I absolutely
fainted with pleasure.
When I recovered my senses I found
that Harry was drying me with his pocket handkerchief.
This done, he stooped and imprinted a kiss on the
sheath of his joys, and then assisted me to rise.
We then returned to the house fully satisfied with
our delightful experiences.
“Darling Kate,” said he,
as we reached the door, “leave the door of your
bed chamber open tonight.”
I pressed his hand as a sign of affirmation
and we separated. You can easily imagine, dear
reader, how anxiously I waited for night. My
bedroom was far removed from any other occupied part
of the house, and I had no fear that we should be
interrupted. At last the hour for retiring came,
and I took up my candle and went to my chamber.
I did not undress myself, but sat on the beside anxiously
awaiting my cousin’s coming. I had been
there about a quarter of an hour when I heard his
footsteps, and in another moment he was by my side.
He rushed to me, kissed my lips and then, with trembling
fingers, bared my breasts, which he covered with kisses.
He then absolutely tore off my clothes, not even sparing
my chemise, and I stood before him as naked as I was
born. In a few seconds he was in the same situation
and I saw for the second time in my life his splendid
member, so stiff and firm that its ruby head nearly
reached his navel. All my modesty disappeared
as if by magic, and I removed my hands which I had
instinctively placed over my center of attraction
and, rushing towards him, seized his burning rod in
my grasp. I capped and uncapped the fiery head
and played with the purse containing the two witnesses
to virility. My cousin’s eyes shot fire
and he began to move his buttocks in reply to my touches.
He placed his hands on my bottom and pressed me close
to him, and I could feel his staff of love pressing
against my white belly. In another moment he
had thrown me on my back on the bed, and then set
about examining the charms of my person at his ease.
His first proceeding was to open my thighs to the
widest extent, thus exposing to his gaze and touches
the whole of love’s domain. He played with
the hair covering the hillock of Venus; he divided
the lips with his finger and, seeking my clitoris,
almost sent me crazy with pleasure by gently rubbing
it. He then turned me over on my belly and patted
the cheeks of my buttocks, which he swore were whiter
than driven snow. He titillated both my clitoris
and bottom at the same time, but noticing by my convulsive
movements that I was on the eve of spending, he suddenly
desisted. Restoring me to my former position on
my back, and throwing himself on top of me, he inserted
his staff of love into the pouting lips of my moss-covered
slit. No sooner had I felt the delicious morsel
pierce me to the quick than I passed one of my arms
round his neck and pressed him convulsively to my
bosom. I then clasped his loins with my thighs
and legs and strained myself so closely to him that
the very hair of our genitals intermingled. A
large mirror hung beside the bed and I could see our
forms reflected in it. I could see his instrument
imbedded to the very hilt in my Mons Veneris,
the tips of which clasped it tightly. He now
commenced to work his plump buttocks up and down.
I replied by a corresponding motion and we kept time
admirably together. The thrilling rapture, the
delicious sensations of that ecstatic period is out
of my power to describe. When I felt his hot pego
rushing in and out of my sensitive vagina, I squirmed
and wriggled under his fierce thrusts, and I thought
my breath would leave my body. At last the dissolving
period approached. I could tell it was coming
on by his more rapid thrusts, by his half-drawn sighs,
by his interrupted breathing, and more especially,
by a peculiar suction which my vagina exercised on
his rod. I spurred his bottom with my heels, I
pressed him to me, I bit him in the agony of my delight,
and just as I was discharging, I passed my hand underneath
his thigh and tickled his testicles.
“I am coming, darling Kate,”
he exclaimed. “Oh God, I come, I co-!”
“I too, Harry,” I exclaimed, “there,
there! there!”
He made two more vigorous thrusts
to which I responded with such vigor that it made
his testicles butt against my bottom, and the next
moment we were both dissolved in bliss.
He then withdrew from me and lay down
by my side. A delightful conversation followed
in which he told me how much he loved me and how faithful
he would always be to me. While we were thus conversing
I had hold of his instrument while he was playing
with my center of love. In a short time I felt
his staff swelling beneath my grasp, and it was soon
in a state of princely erection again. We again
resumed the rites of Venus.
This time he stretched himself all
his length on his back and drew me on top of him.
He clasped me around the waist, while I myself guided
his dart into my bower, which was burning to receive
it. He then insisted that I should pump up his
spermatic treasures myself while he would remain perfectly
passive. I was quite agreeable, and began an
up-and-down motion. My vagina fitted his pego
like a glove, and I had not played horsewoman a dozen
times before I felt his boiling sperm inundate my
womb, while I also poured down my share of love’s
elixer in such profusion that it wetted both thighs
and belly.
I shall not detain the reader by detailing
how many times we sacrificed ourselves to the shrine
of Venus that night, nor shall I depict all the postures
and modes we persued, as I have many similar scenes
to depict; suffice it to say that when we got up the
next morning we were both thoroughly exhausted, and
pale and feeble from our unwonted exertions.
For six weeks I enjoyed sexual delights
in every possible form not a day passing
without at least one experience of my cousin’s
capabilities. At the end of that time he was compelled
to return home. He left me with the most ardent
protestations of love and devotion, and took an oath
that he would marry none but me. I had such a
confidence in him that I firmly believed his word.