Chapter Three

Some months had now passed since Helen and I had begun sharing a room. One night we had gone to sleep, for once not having pleasured each other, and then I woke in the middle of the night. I could see that Helen’s bed was empty. I lay awake, wondering what could have happened to her. After about an hour the door opened and she crept stealthily back into her bed.

“Where have you been?” I hissed.

“Shh,” she said. “I’ll tell you later. Go to sleep.”

For a week I pestered Helen to tell me what she had been doing, but she resisted. Obviously it must be a big secret if she would not tell me, since I was her best friend, as she often assured me. One night we were in bed together, slowly caressing each other, our hands working under our nightgowns.

“Why won’t you tell me?” I murmured. “Don’t you trust me?”

She was silent for a moment. “It’s not that. I think you will be shocked. And maybe that you will disapprove.”

“Take a chance,” I said. “I can’t believe you would do anything really wicked.”

There was another silence, then she spoke. “I’ve been with a man.”

“What? You went off at night to meet a man?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

She was silent again. “You can’t tell me it was a man and not say who,” I protested.

“Promise you will never ever tell. And that you won’t tell me I am a bad girl.”

“All right,” I said. “I vow. But tell me.”

“It’s the French teacher, M. Poiret.”

I was stunned. “My god. Really?”

“Yes,” Helen said simply.

“And what did you do? Tell me exactly.”

“We did it. You know. The whole thing.”

“But how did it happen? How did he persuade you?”

“I’m not sure he really had to persuade me. I’ve known for some time he liked me. He’s been leaving me little notes. We managed to snatch a few words together now and again. Once or twice he kissed me when there was no one around.”

I thought about what she had told me. “You are taking a terrible risk,” I said.

“It’s worth it,” Helen said. “It’s wonderful. He’s so kind and loving. And so experienced. He’s teaching me how to be a good lover.”

“What’s it like? I mean, actually doing it? Does it hurt?”

“No, it didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it’s lovely.”

“Tell me exactly what he does.”

“First he holds me and kisses me. I like that so much. He’s very gentle, but he knows exactly what he is doing. He strokes my hair, strokes my cheek, and caresses the back of my neck.”

“Like this?” I said, touching her in those places.

“Yes,” Helen said. “Then he puts a hand down to my chest, begins to pinch my nipples a little. I was just wearing my nightgown, like I am now.”

Again I imitated the actions, taking her nipple between finger and thumb, squeezing hard through the thin material.

“Then he started sucking my nipples, really hard.”

“But these are all things we do to each other. What did he do that’s different?”

“Well, of course, the end is different. When he put his cock inside me.”

“Was that thrilling? Did you really like it?”

“It’s the best thing,” Helen said. For the first time I grew a little jealous. “Of course, I don’t mean that what we do together isn’t lovely. But I think for both of us it’s all leading up to a man, isn’t it?”

“Are there things he did which we haven’t done? Besides the obvious thing?”

Helen giggled. “There is one thing. But I don’t think I’ll tell you. You’d be shocked.”

“No,” I said. “I promise I will not. Do tell, please?”

“Well,” said Helen, “after we had done it, you know, with him inside me, he took my nightgown off and rolled me over onto my tummy.”

“Yes,” I said expectantly.

“He started stroking my bottom. That felt really nice. And then he went lower down and began to kiss it. First the cheeks, and then I felt his tongue slide in between them.”

“Oh my god,” I said. “That’s really dirty. Yuck.”

“That’s what I thought at first. But it was beautiful. You can’t imagine. Soon he got me wet there, and then he licked his finger and very slowly and carefully he slid it into my bottom.”

“Really? Right in? Weren’t you shocked?”

“Yes, but it felt so good. We lay there together, his finger very gently moving in and out. And then he told me that when he had trained me properly that he would put his cock in there.”

“What? In your bottom?”

“That’s what he said. He said that Frenchmen like to do that very much, and all French ladies are taught to accommodate them in that way. He said it’s the most pleasurable thing for a man, and that also it takes care of any problem about birth control.”

I considered this for a moment. “Do you want him to do this? I’m sure it would hurt.”

“I don’t know,” Helen said. “We’ll have to wait and see. He won’t do it till I’m ready.”

“You seem to be moving very fast,” I said.

“Yes,” said Helen. “But why hold back? If it feels right.”

“So before he did this he put his cock in you? Where it’s supposed to be?”

“Yes, he did. He made me kneel on all fours and he did it from behind. You know, like horses do.”

I had once seen two horses mating. I had been profoundly shocked by the sight of the stallion’s thing, so enormous. But for ages afterwards I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“He said that that’s how Frenchmen prefer to do it. It goes in further that way, and it gives the man more control.”

“More control of what?” I enquired.

“I don’t know, really. That’s just what he said.”

I could see already how deeply Helen was influenced by this man, absorbing his every word. I wondered whether, when eventually I was possessed by a man, I would feel the same way. A few days later Helen was absent from her bed again. This time she showed little reluctance afterwards in giving me an account of what transpired.

“He said that he will progressively introduce me to those practices which give lovers the most pleasure. He made me divest myself of my nightgown and laid me on the bed. He made a careful examination of my body, praising it in such an effusive but intimate way that I could not stop blushing. He kissed and sucked my breasts and again put his mouth between my legs. He said that perhaps next time he would demonstrate to me that I could reach the heights of pleasure this way, but that we should proceed slowly. And then he said that just as the man may worship the woman with his mouth, so the woman ought to do the same with the man. He lay on his back, naked, and guided my head down, telling me to kiss his nipples, then his belly and finally pushing me down to his groin. I felt so shy, dearest Jane, that he should make me do such a thing!”

My hand was between her legs at that time. I could feel how her cunt had been clenching as she told her tale. It was now very wet.

“Do tell,” I whispered urgently, eager for every detail. “What exactly did he make you do?”

“He told me to kiss his cock, up and down its length. It was fully swollen by now, and very hard. He told me to rub it gently with my hand, squeezing it a little. It’s big, you know, much longer than my hand is wide. Then he showed me how to pull back the foreskin. I had no idea of the existence of such a thing, but it felt good to slide back the soft little fold of skin and see the reddish-purple tip, engorged and glistening.”

I was fascinated, trying to imagine what it would be like to do this.

“He told me to kiss the tip, then lick it. It felt huge in my hand. I had an idea of what he would make me do next, but I thought it impossible to achieve it. I could surely never get such a thing in my mouth. But he pushed my head down, telling me to open my mouth wide and accommodate him. And so I did, taking him into my mouth as far as I could. He pushed my head down further, wanting me to suck more of him, but I could not go all the way down. When I tried I began to choke. He let me take it out to breathe for a while, but then insisted I suck him again. Still I could not get him all in my mouth, but he seemed content.”

“And then?” I asked, my curiosity at fever pitch.

“Then he said it was time to do what we had done before. Once more he put me on all fours. I found this position shaming, because I knew that as he entered me all my parts were fully visible to him. Indeed, once he was inside me he squeezed my bottom, taking it in both hands, pulling apart the cheeks, exposing me completely. I felt I might die of shame, that he should see me revealed in that way. And then he pressed a finger to that place which I cannot bear to name. It felt like a kind of violation, and yet undeniably there was pleasure as his finger stroked me softly there. As he moved in and out of me he said that soon, next time or the time after, he would prepare me to be entered there, in that most secret of places. I felt glad that my face was buried in the pillows and that he could not see how much I was shamed by what he said.”

“Tell me,” I said, anxious to learn as much as I could from Helen’s experiences, “when he does it to you, when he’s inside you, do you get your pleasure that way?”

“No, I don’t enjoy complete fulfillment, though it’s a most lovely feeling. He says that many women do not get the full pleasure that way. Not from fucking, as he calls it. They need something else. He explained that the woman’s pleasure comes from the stimulation of the clitoris, which I think, dear Jane, has been our experience. During fucking the clit does not always receive sufficient attention, and in fact, so far I have not come in the way that I do with you, or when I do it to myself. He says, that next time he will take care of me in that way and that I shall know the full transport of erotic delight.”

“And so now,” I said, “though you have been fucked, you are still in a state of neediness because you did not achieve fulfillment?”

Helen giggled. “Are you offering?” she said.

I slid down between her legs, pushing up her nightgown. “Let me show you exactly what he should do to you next time,” I said. Then I went to work, kissing and licking, using my hand too until before too long she groaned and her belly quivered and I felt her cunt grip around my fingers as I brought her to her conclusion.

“Dear Jane,” she said as she kissed me, “you have such a talent. One day you will make a man very happy.”

“And maybe a few women too,” I said with a smile.

Helen continued to spend nights with Pierre (that was his name, as I discovered). He was as good as his word, leading her through a repertoire of sexual practices. The following week she reported that he had brought her to what she called “true ecstasy” by using his mouth.

“I think, dear Jane, that he is perhaps not quite as proficient as he believes. It took him far longer to bring me to my climax than it takes you. When I ill-advisedly mentioned this, he grew sulky. But in truth I think it hard for a man unless he knows a woman very well to coax her to pleasure as expertly as another woman could do. For have we not a knowledge of each other’s anatomy, and do we not instinctively know which caresses will bring the most pleasure, whereas a man must submit to a process of trial and error?”

I looked at her in consternation. “You have told him about me? About us?”

Helen looked surprised. “Should I not? I have told you all about him.”

There was some logic in what she said. All the same, I was put out that she should divulge our secrets to another, especially to a man in a position of authority and whom I did not really know. For a week or so there was some frostiness between Helen and me. But then one night she came to my bed again and told me what had happened the previous night with Pierre.

“He did what he had threatened, or rather promised, to do,” she said. “He took me in the rear.”

Despite the fact that I was still a little cross with her for what she had told Pierre, I was dying of curiosity to hear more of her exploits. And not only that; because we had scarcely been on speaking terms, there had been no physical contact between us. I found that I missed her caresses, that my body had come to depend on them for its satisfaction. Self-pleasure no longer held the same appeal for me. Now that Helen was once more in bed beside me, stroking me where I liked it best, and was once again speaking intimately to me, I soon relented and began to kiss and fondle her in return.

“So tell me,” I said, “everything, down to the last detail.”

“Well,” she said, her fingers teasing my cunt, pinching and pulling so that I was soon very wet, “first we embraced, naked, on the bed. Then he kissed all the way down my front and between my legs. I thought that he would attempt to bring me to pleasure that way once more, perhaps endeavoring to achieve it more efficiently, stung by my comparison between his efforts and your own. But after a little of that, he turned me over and began to kiss my bottom, all the while squeezing and kneading it with his hands. Then he brought his mouth to the entrance, licking it round and round. I knew of course what would happen. I was nervous that it might hurt, which made me tense. But as he slowly and gently licked and kissed me there I felt myself opening up. At last he wet his finger and slid it into me. And then I discovered that he had by the bedside a jar of some kind of cream. I saw him dip his fingers into the cream, and I felt it cold round my bottom, before his finger slid in again, this time much more easily. He continued to lubricate me for a while, and then he lifted me so that I was kneeling on the edge of the bed, facing him. He took hold of my hair and guided my mouth down to his cock, pushing it between my lips. In this way I lubricated him too.

“At last he told me to turn round on my knees so that my bottom was facing out over the edge of the bed. He murmured to me to relax, that he would not hurt me, that he would be gentle, but that this was something I needed to do for him. I felt his cock nestling at the tight little entrance to my bottom and then a slow pressure. He told me to push down, and I tried my best. I wanted to do this for him. His cock went in a little way. It felt very big, and at that moment I felt very small. I was sure I was too tight. But as he pushed a little more his cock gradually made its way in further. Towards the end he gave a firm thrust, which hurt me and I cried out, but he hushed me and said I must be brave. And then he said it was all the way in and that I was a good girl. I felt so proud to have done this for him, even though it still hurt a little because I was so narrow. Very slowly, then a little faster, he began to thrust in and out of me. Fortunately, perhaps, because I was so unused to this and it did hurt a little, the excitement and the tightness of the opening brought him swiftly to his climax. I felt his cock twitching inside me as he spent himself, and then after a while it slid out. And strange to tell, I felt somewhat bereft once I was empty again.”

“So now you are deflowered fore and aft,” I said. “You have gone a long way in a short time.”

“I am so lucky,” Helen replied. “I have learned so much. He is so good to me.”

“No doubt he feels that he has struck a good bargain,” I said, a trifle cynically. “He will teach you all about love and at the same time enjoy the pleasure of fucking a pretty young girl.”

“Dear Jane!” Helen said, oblivious to the note of sarcasm in my voice. “How I wish you could have such pleasures too.”

Little did either of us know that such a wish was about to be granted. But for the time being I had to take my pleasure where I found it. Fortunately Helen was always willing to delight me, and she was now highly skilled, knowing exactly which caresses gave me the greatest satisfaction.

While Helen was enjoying the attentions of Pierre, I tried not to think of the danger of discovery. But our luck held and Helen continued to pay her nocturnal visits, almost invariably regaling me with details of her latest encounter before falling into my arms for another bout of fervent love-making between the two of us. It seemed that however strenuous and satisfying her encounters with Pierre, she was always ready for more when she returned to our room, such was the extent to which her visits excited her. Then one evening when she returned I could see that she was almost bursting with excitement.

“What is it?” I exclaimed. “Has something happened?”

She got into bed beside me and kissed me. Her hands slid down and pulled up my nightgown, going about their familiar work. I was always hungry for her touch these nights.

“You know, dear Jane, that though our tender kisses mean so much to me, and though you have given me such great pleasure with your sweet caresses, my preference, if I am honest, is for a man.”

“Yes, I know,” I answered. “And I do not mind about that at all.”

It was true; I recognized that for both of us the pleasures of another woman’s body were always welcome, but each of us knew that our caresses supplemented but did not ultimately substitute for those of a man.

“I have explained all this to Pierre,” she said. “He understands. He approves of me getting into your bed. He is not jealous of you in the least.”

“Nor I of him,” I replied. I envied Helen what she had with Pierre, but I did not feel any jealousy. I did not wish to retain her for myself exclusively.

“Pierre thinks,” Helen continued, “that perhaps you might benefit from the services that he has provided for me. Should you be willing he will introduce you to what only a man can offer.”

Sometimes my tongue was apt to be a little sharp, despite my better instincts. “You mean he wants to fuck me too? Are you not enough for him?”

“I am sure he only wishes to be generous,” Helen said. “He has said to me many times how much he admires you, both your looks and deportment, and also your mind. He says you are clever. By this I think he means, that you are cleverer than I,” Helen added wistfully.

I laughed. “Such obvious flattery does not persuade me that he wishes this for my benefit. And how do you feel about this? Would you be jealous if he took me into his bed?”

“We have discussed that,” Helen said. “Pierre wishes me to be present, so that I do not feel shut out. I feel this is very thoughtful of him.”

“And should you care for this? Are you willing to share him in such an intimate way?”

“I will do whatever he wishes,” Helen said. Truly, she seemed to have fallen hard for this lusty Frenchman. For my part, though I was skeptical of his motives, reluctant to accept that they were as altruistic as Helen seemed to think, nevertheless I was intrigued. Perhaps the reader may be shocked that a young girl, so innocent of the ways of love, should be eager to rush into the arms of this lothario. That I should consider offering myself to him, a man in a position of authority but also of care over me, may appear bad enough. But that I should be open to the idea of three in a bed must appear to verge on depravity. In my defense I can only say that I felt great affection for my dear Helen, and no little desire, and was intrigued both by the psychological complications and by the possibilities for pleasure which her suggestion contained. More than that, however; I had spent several months having my senses aroused by constant love-making with this pretty girl, yet feeling all the time, as she did herself, that this was but the prelude, the overture if you will, to the performance my imagination so greatly desired, that of congress with a man. If my introduction to heterosexual delights were to be initiated in such an unorthodox manner, so be it.

I had at this time formed no very firm views as to what was proper in sexual relationships. No one had bothered to instruct me in what was expected in polite society. No one had explained to me how powerful are the desires of the body, and what dangers may lurk in their indulgence, nor attempted to impose on me strict ideas about monogamy, fidelity, and so forth. I was led by my physical urges and by my curiosity, and held back by no moral or religious scruples. I was in some sense a child of nature, my sexual personality still unformed, ready and open to guidance from whoever undertook the responsibility. Nevertheless, I instinctively felt some caution.

“I need to think about this,” I said. “It’s not that I am unwilling, but I ought to reflect upon the possible consequences.”

“What consequences?” Helen asked.

“You may say now that you feel no jealousy. But what if when you see me in Pierre’s arms you cannot control yourself? You may feel that I am a rival, or that Pierre is too ready to transfer his affections, or at least his desires.”

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Helen answered. “I am prepared to take the risk. I think my pleasure would be all the greater if you could share it too.”

I kissed her fondly. “Dear Helen,” I said. “Let us hope that this is true for both of us. Or indeed all three.”

I spent a lot of time over the following week wondering if I was doing the right thing with this proposed intrusion into the relationship between Helen and Pierre. When I say the “right” thing, I am not speaking of morality. Subsequent experience has confirmed what I already instinctively believed at that early age, that most of what passes for sexual morality is but the narrow-mindedness of those who are too unimaginative to think beyond the bounds of what has been drummed into them, and whose view of the world is too pinched to let them see what the possibilities are for pleasure. It seemed to me that there was nothing wrong with what was proposed, just so long as none of the three of us was harmed by it. It was solely around this question that my thoughts centered. For myself, I felt reasonably confident that I should not get carried away. Helen had clearly fallen head over heels for this Frenchman. I found him pleasant in manner and his appearance agreeable, but I did not think I should ever conceive a grand passion for him. This appeared to me to be a good thing. Surely it was better that my first experience of a man should not overwhelm me emotionally. I wished for knowledge of what passed physically between men and women, but I had no great longing for love, beyond the simple affection I felt for Helen. In fact, I believed at that time that I was not susceptible to the powerful emotions that love engenders. I somehow felt that my early upbringing had insulated me against them. My parents had made me feel secure; I did not need to throw myself on another to gain the attention which some girls are deprived of by cold and uncaring parents. On the other hand, my experiences at the hands of Mrs. Reid and her odious son made me cautious in sexual matters, wary of laying myself open to exploitation. I felt safe with Helen, and the affection she afforded me was for the moment sufficient. Little did I realize how little I knew myself, and how utterly my emotions would be enthralled one day.

But that day lay far in the future. For the moment I thought only of the forthcoming initiation (for I had already decided, it was clear to myself, to go through with it). I decided I should take Helen’s denial of any misgivings about the arrangement at face value. As for the effects upon Pierre, I judged that he was able to take care of himself, and that the taking of another young girl would be for him, if not a routine matter, then not one to be associated with any great turmoil or drama.