Jack Angel swung off the New York bound train at seven in the evening. At the bottom of the steps he turned and held out his hand to help down the redhead.
“Will we meet here at nine, or in the club car, Jack?” she asked.
“Let’s make it in the club car. We’ll have a nightcap and “
“We can pretend it happened again,” she smiled. “Just like it happened outside of Pasadena.”
“Nothing would please me more,” Jack answered. He walked with her into the station, and there the redhead turned and kissed him on the cheek. “See you at nine.”
“Right.” That was one date Jack wasn’t about to miss.
He had met the woman her name was Lana in the club car, just after it left Pasadena on its swing east to Chicago. She had been sitting in one of the lounge chairs, her legs crossed beautifully over nylon-clad knees. As Jack entered the club car, Lana looked up and smiled, and Jack moved to the seat beside her. A few minutes later they were on first-name terms.
“It’s boring to ride all the way to New York without making at least one friend,” Lana said.
“I agree,” Jack answered.
“It’s not settled quite that easily,” Lana said. “You must first agree that I pay my own way, all the way.”
“If you insist,” Jack answered. He dropped his eyes into the neckline of her blouse and let his eyeballs bounce from the peak of one breast to the peak of the other. She had plenty of funds with which to pay her own way.
“Now it’s my turn to buy,” she said.
They took turns buying each other drinks until the waiter said, “It’s time to close.”
“I’ve got a bottle in my luggage,” Jack remarked.
“And I’ve got one in my compartment,” Lana said. “Suppose you get yours and we mate them.”
“Drawing room C in car four.”
Jack walked her to her drawing room, then went into the pullman section to retrieve the quart of scotch. He carried it to her door and knocked. Lana opened the door quickly.
“I didn’t change into something more comfortable because you haven’t kissed me yet,” she said. “I never appear before a man in a negligee without being kissed.”
“I’ll remedy that right away,” Jack said. He opened his arms and Lana stepped into them. They kissed deeply, and did not part, but held their mouths in close contact. Jack felt the tip, then more of her tongue. In return he gave her his own, and only then did she tear her mouth from his to gasp for breath.
“Now,” she said, stepping back, “let me change into something more comfortable. You can pour us a drink while I change. My bottle is on the bed.”
Lana moved to the small closet and she opened it to take out a wine-colored negligee. She carried it into the small bath as Jack placed both bottles on the table by the window.
“I’ll need some glasses,” he said.
“Just a minute.” Her voice was muffled even though the door wasn’t com-pletely closed. She opened the door further still and held out two glasses. Jack’s mouth dropped open as he stared at the beautiful young woman clad only in bra, panties, garter belt and hose.
“Just the glasses now,” Lana said.
Jack took them and continued to stare at her. She didn’t close the door, but she turned her back to Jack and unfastened her garters. When she had peeled them from her legs, she unhooked the garter belt and let it drop to the floor. Then she slipped her arms into the sleeves of the negligee, tied it at the throat and turned to face him.
“You haven’t poured yet,” she said.
“I’ve been staring.” The wine-colored negligee revealed her body instead of concealing it. The bra held her breasts even higher than Jack imagined. The white panties hugged her hips and were translucent.
“The drinks, Jack,” Lana teased.
“Yes, the drinks.” Jack poured an inch of booze into each glass, then stepped into the bath and added a shot or two of water. When he returned, Lana was seated on the bed.
“It’s going to be a great trip from here to Chicago,” she remarked.
“Beyond my expectations,” Jack said.
“Is that why you didn’t get a drawing room?” she teased.
“Not really. I never thought of it.”
“I didn’t think of anything else,” she said. “But a drawing room needs two people.”
“I agree,” Jack said. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. Her negligee had fallen open to her thighs.
“Good booze,” Lana remarked as she finished the last of her drink. She reached across Jack to set the glass on the table. Then she leaned back against the wall of the drawing room, stretching her arms behind her head. Her breasts threatened to swell out of the bra and the negligee.
Jack finished his drink quickly. “You excite me more than any woman has for a long time,” he said. “I want to hold you in my arms and caress you.”
“Am I objecting?” Lana asked.
Jack closed the distance between them. His arms went around her neck and his body pressed against hers.
“Are you sure that isn’t a line you gave me?” Lana asked. “About me exciting you more than any other “
“I’ll show you,” Jack answered. He moved his lips to the hollow of her neck and kissed her there. “You’re lovely,” he whispered against her pulse.
He raised his mouth until it covered hers. She didn’t yield to his kiss immediately. She kept her mouth closed against his tongue, but in a moment she parted her lips and allowed it entrance. Jack held her even closer in his embrace as his tongue writhed against hers. His hand went to the neckline of her negligee. He fingered the material a moment, then moved the tips of his fingers to the swells of her breasts where they rose out of her bra.
“Lana!” Jack whispered. His voice was hoarse and rasping as he fought to control his breathing. “Jack! My negligee!”
“Take it off!”
“Just like that?” Lana asked.
“Just like that,” Jack whispered. He spoke against her ear as his hand dipped into the neckline of the negligee. He cursed momentarily as his fingers struggled to move beneath the tight, confining lace of her bra.
“You take it off,” she said.
“Crazy!” Jack rose from the bed. He stood over Lana and reached down to take her hands and lift her to her feet. She came easily and without resistance. When Jack dropped her hands she threw them around his neck and leaned back in his arms, using her pelvis as a fulcrum. Lana was driving Jack insane with her body. And she knew it. She realized it more when she began to move her body against his.
“Lana!” Jack reached for the ribbon tie at her throat. He unfastened it and leaned forward to place his lips against the hollow of her neck. Behind her back, his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra.
Lana smiled at his awkward clumsiness as he fumbled and cursed. It appeared to Jack that she wanted him to want her so badly that he would get down on his knees and beg her.
“Let me help you,” she finally said.
“No! I’ll do it!” Jack cried. He pushed one side of the elastic strap against the other and cursed again. Then the bra fell loose behind her back. Jack pushed at her negligee until it slid down her arms and fell at her ankles like a wine-colored cloud. Lana lifted her arms, and her bra slid down and fell to the floor.
Jack stooped before her, reaching up to the elastic at her waist. He tugged gently until the panties came gently down over her hips and her thighs. She raised her legs one at a time and stepped out of the translucent panties. Lana raised her hands to cup her breasts. She caressed them and held them even higher.
“Lana!” He threw his arms around her thighs and pressed his face against her.
Then suddenly he rose. He began to tear the clothes from his body. He couldn’t get them off fast enough.
Nude, he moved toward her. With a single swoop he lifted Lana off her feet and carried her to the bed. There he stretched out beside her.
Jack, for all his anxiety, was a pa-tient lover. He kissed her shoulders, her throat and her arms. He rolled his tongue and mouth over her flesh as his hands caressed her breasts. Her nipples began to betray her own desire, the desire which she couldn’t hold down. She molded her body to his, from knees to neck, forcing him to feel every curve and muscle of her magnificent body.
Lana whispered wetly against his ear, “Don’t you want me, Jack?”
With a smothered cry, Jack wound his arms around her neck. He pressed his fingers into the flesh, pulling her closer and closer.
In an instant neither of them could stand it any longer.
Jack’s giving and taking, begun with control, was driven to an unchecked fury by the passions she unleashed in him.
Later, Lana reached to the table beside the bed. She found two cigarettes and matches. She lit them and stuck one between Jack’s lips. “Was it good for you, Jack?” she asked.
Jack drew long and hard and blew a cloud of smoke into the drawing room before he answered. “It has never been better, baby. Never been better!”
Lana played her fingertips along the naked expanse of his chest. “It was a beautiful experience for me too, Jack. You’re an expert lover. Quite skilled.”
Jack raised himself on one elbow. Leaning down, he touched his lips to the peaks of her breasts, one at a time.
“They’re all yours,” she sighed. “All the way to Chicago and beyond.”
“That’s a long way,” Jack murmured.
“I know. It should be a marathon,” she remarked. “I’ve always prided my-self on my lasting ability.” She reached down to touch Jack. “Can you again? So soon after?”
Her hands slid along Jack’s back as she spoke. They clung to each other, rocking back and forth as they em-braced on the pullman bed.
Jack groped warmly with his hands on her back, and there was a wildness in her that told him it had to be now.
“Can you?” she asked again.
“Shhh!” Jack’s arms were like a vise that grew tighter the more she probed his mouth with her demanding tongue. Then he loosened the vise, and with one hand he began stroking her smooth skin.
The nipples of her breasts were like extended little fingers, sensitive to his touch. Jack dropped his head to touch the peak of one breast with the tip of his tongue. She shuddered.
Jack dropped his free hand to her knee and moved it slowly up over her thigh to rub gently across her stomach. Then, gradually, he moved it back over her leg to her inner thigh, prolonging the tension for a long time.
She was even more on fire than he. Then she cried out, “You can!” She brought him against her and to her, beating her body against his in an ef-fort to end the agony of waiting.
“Damn you…oh, baby!…” she moaned. She ground her pelvis against him in a savage, compelling rhythm of sheer, animal lust. Jack braced him-self, then lunged into her again and again, meeting her desire.
He liked every moment of it. It had been a long time since he’d had a sweet, hot piece like her.
“Jack,” she moaned, with a new note of ecstasy in her voice. “Jack, I’m about to…Oh, Jack, baby… give it to me!”
He increased his efforts, holding her hips as he rammed himself against her again and again. At the moment of ecstasy, the train whistle blew a long, piercing blast. It seemed to be the very voice of their passionate culmination.
For a long time afterward they lay sprawled together, listening to the click-click of the train.
Iris was a lousy actor.
That much was evident one minute after she started reading for me.
We were in the living room of my apartment, and I was seated in the big armchair, a freshly mixed drink in my hand, while Iris stood in the center of the room and read from the script. I had chosen a medium-length scene for her to do, and I had an open copy of the script in my lap so I could follow her and cue her with the appropriate lines.
She was pretty bad.
She tried hard, but there was no doubt at all that she just couldn’t handle it. I’ve heard actors mumble through a part on the first read-through, and you wouldn’t think they had a bit of talent. But that was on the read-through, after they had already been selected for the part and were first getting familiar with the script. In an audition, though, an actor or actress tries for clarity, emotion and proper interpretation of a scene. Iris was trying, all right, but she just wasn’t coming through.
I tried to keep my face impassive as I listened to her and watched her struggle with the reading. A couple of times I almost winced, but I kept myself under control. Iris glanced up at me now and then, and I could see that she was troubled. It was clear that she knew she was doing badly. By the time she finished I had gulped down my drink and was sitting staring into the empty glass. Iris put the script down on the coffee table, looked at me hesitantly, and asked, “How’d I do?”
I cleared my throat noisily, trying to find the right words, and I could tell by the way she looked at me that she had already read the answer in my face.
“Well…” I began.
“Wait a minute, Phil,” she said quickly, and there was a desperate note in her voice. She picked up the script and flipped through it, talking rapidly as she leafed through the pages. “I’d like to show you a little more of what I can do if it’s all right with you. Yes, here it is.” She folded back the script. “In the third act, the younger sister does a sort of dance all by herself in her room. Do you know the scene I mean?”
I nodded and waited for her to go on. She dropped the script back on the table, her face pale except for two bright spots of color in her cheeks. She was making a last-ditch try now.
“Well, I’ve done a little dancing, Phil, and what I’d like to do for you now is sort of improvise this scene. I was pretty good at improvisation at acting school, and I think it’ll give you a better picture of…of what I can do. Okay?”
“Sure, go ahead,” I said quickly, wishing she hadn’t asked me that because it would only prolong things, but knowing that I couldn’t very well refuse her. She was trying very hard now, and while I was anxious to get it over with, the least I could do was let her complete the audition as she wanted to.
For a moment, I had forgotten my hunch about the probability of her inviting me to make a pass at her.
I was reminded of it very forcibly in the next few minutes.
“Do you have a record player?” Iris asked.
“Over there,” I said, nodding with my head at the far wall.
“Will you put on a record for me, Phil? Something with a strong beat.” She smiled self-consciously. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to go into the other room for a moment and…well, get myself into the mood. That’s what you have to do when you improvise, you know.”
“Sure,” I said. I put down my empty glass, set my copy of the script on the table next to hers and got to my feet.
Iris went to the bedroom and paused in the door. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, then you put on the record. Okay?”
I nodded, and she went into the bedroom, closing the door halfway. I chose a record, put it on the player, switched on the set so it would warm up, and then mixed myself another drink while I waited for her go-ahead.
I had time for two long swallows of my drink before Iris finally called out, “All right, Phil. I’m ready now.”
I pressed the start button on the record player and, drink in hand, walked across the room to the armchair. Behind me the stereo clicked, the record dropped to the turntable, the tonearm swung across and down, and music flooded the room as I plunked myself down in the chair. It was music with a strong, rhythmic beat, just as Iris had requested. I glanced at the partly closed bedroom door and wondered why it had taken her so long to get ready.
I found out a second later.
The door opened, and Iris stepped out. I almost dropped my drink. I half-rose from my chair, my eyes straining in their sockets as they took in everything in a series of swift glances.
Iris was barefoot.
She was also bare-legged.
And bare-chested, too.
In fact, her sole adornment was a pair of sheer white panties.
She stood poised in the doorway as I slowly sank back in the chair. This was more than I had bargained for, but it was fine with me. My eyes took another swift inventory of Iris’s charms. Her tiny waist seemed even smaller when contrasted with her full breasts and rounded hips. Her flesh was creamy white, except for the pink mounds surrounding the rosy nipples of her breasts. The sheer white panties hid nothing. They were as transparent as any material could be.
I raised my glass to my lips and held it there, gulping down the liquor, as Iris went into her dance.
Her dancing was better than her acting. Much better.
She planted her feet firmly on the floor, her legs spread wide, her arms held out. She looked for all the world like someone about to start a series of calisthenic exercises.
What she did next was not exactly calisthenics.
It started in her shoulders, just the slightest of shaking movements. Her breasts began to move along with her shoulders, just a slight movement at first, no more than a gentle swaying back and forth of her uptilted nipples.
I finished my drink fast and set the glass down on the small table next to the chair.
The shaking movement now spread to Iris’s arms, and the sway of her breasts was more pronounced. And all the while she was keeping in perfect time with the music. I was suddenly very glad that I had selected a long-playing record.
Iris’s hips began to go into action now, and she was still keeping time with the music. My eyes darted up and down from her breasts to her hips, not knowing where to look first. Her full, beautifully shaped breasts were swaying back and forth excitingly now, making my throat go suddenly dry.
The shaking motion spread to her entire body, and the smooth flesh of her firm legs rippled and moved. Still keeping her arms outstretched, and still moving her shoulders and arms and hips in time to the music, she began to inch her way across the room to where I sat in the chair. Her legs were still apart, although not as wide as before, and she moved toward me slowly, step by step, coming at me straddle-legged with every part of her in motion.
When she was about three feet away from me, she stopped moving forward, and now she began to add a small jiggle to her movements. Her breasts bounced rhythmically, and she was so close to me now I could have reached out and grabbed her which is exactly what I wanted to do. But I kept myself under control. I had a hunch those sheer panties would come off before the dance was over, and I sensed also that she had a few more delights in store for me in her dance.
I was right. The jiggling, bouncing, shaking movement of her body now gave way to a rolling, thrusting motion of her hips. The music from the record player grew louder, with sharp, snapping drumbeats. Iris smiled and began to move her hips in time to the drum-beats, and I soon saw that she was building up to some very effective bumps and grinds. She had perfect control of her body, moving in exact rhythm with the music.
I’ve seen my share of burlesque shows and stag shows, but what Iris was doing now outstripped everything I had ever seen before. She ground her hips in a slow, insinuating circle, and then, as the music built up to a crescendo, she reared back, her legs spread and bent slightly at the knees, and suddenly snapped forward. Her breasts heaved and bounced, her thighs rippled, her torso twisted in an ecstasy of movement and deep down inside me, I felt myself beginning to react. Hunger for her filled me, building up in me rapidly, making the palms of my hands literally itch to touch her.
Iris, with that inborn sense of timing that women have in such situations, immediately sensed that she had gotten through to me. A triumphant smile flitted briefly across her lips. She had me now, and she knew it. But she held back, continuing to dance before me, continuing to excite me, making doubly sure that my desire would not fade.
She turned gracefully, whirling around with the music, presenting her back to me. She placed her legs together, her hips swaying in time to the music, and she bent over slowly, giving me a delightful view of her rounded buttocks through the sheer panties. When she was fully bent over, her hands came back and her fingers slipped inside the waistband of her panties.
The beat of the music picked up a little, but while Iris’s hips kept time with the beat, her hands nevertheless moved slowly. It was a fascinating sight to watch as she remained bent over and slowly pulled down her panties, keeping her hips moving in time to the pounding rhythm of the music.
Her buttocks were bare now, the panties down around her knees. She bent at the knees, the mounds of her buttocks curving tautly, and she slipped the panties down to her ankles, stepping out of them gracefully.
She straightened up, keeping her back to me, and once again struck a pose and stretched out her arms. The record would soon be drawing to a close, I knew, but there was still time for more of Iris’s dancing. She began the shaking routine again, giving me a back view this time, and now there were no panties to cover her middle. No matter how revealing her panties had been, the dance was much more effective now that she was completely naked from head to toe.
Her buttocks quivered and shook as Iris went into her routine. She, too, must have known that the record would end soon because she speeded everything up. She gave me a few seconds of shaking, then launched into the grinds, then began bumping. It was a delight to watch from the rear. Her buttocks would pull back, then she tensed and then her buttocks snapped forward as she bumped away.
She turned around quickly, and I got a full front view. Her hips were in violent motion now, her breasts heaving up and down as she continued with the bumps, making each one more forceful than the last. The music was swelling to a final crescendo of savage beats, and Iris’s bumps and grinds came in quick, pounding succession.
The music rose to a squealing finish, capped by one final drumbeat, and Iris’s hips thrust forward in a last, eye-filling bump that made me draw back in awe.
The record finished, and there was silence in the room, broken only by Iris’s heavy breathing and the click of the record player shutting itself off. Iris looked down at me for a few seconds, and then, in one swift movement, plunked herself down on my lap and threw her arms around my neck.
My reaction was instinctive. I’m a normal human male, and when a naked blonde puts on a dancing exhibition, such as Iris had, and then dumps herself in my lap, I don’t stop to reason things out. I just react.
My hands went around her bare waist, and her seeking mouth crushed down on mine. Her tongue went to work instantly, pushing its way past my lips and right into my mouth. Her body was hot and pulsing under my hands, and I was suddenly and very acutely conscious of the fact that I was fully clothed. All I could think of was that I wanted to get out of my clothes in a hurry. I didn’t think of the audition and Iris’s poor acting. I thought only of the feel of Iris on my lap and the softness of her flesh as I held her.
Iris’s mouth was working against mine, her tongue pushing and probing hotly against my mouth, her soft buttocks squirming into my lap. I let my hands slide to her hips, then dropped one hand to her leg. Instantly, and without breaking the kiss, Iris moved her knees, and my hand dropped between then. I stroked the inside of her leg, my fingers brushing the silken warmth of her flesh, and desire surged up in me like a white-hot flame burning away at my insides.
Iris suddenly tore herself away from my grasp, pulling her mouth from mine, and jumped to her feet. She grabbed my hand and pulled. I came up out of the chair fast, ready for anything.
“Hurry!” she said hoarsely. “Take your clothes off! Hurry!”
I hurried. The urgency in her voice excited me and made me forget everything but the desire to hold that naked body pressed to my bare flesh.
I tore at my clothing, almost ripping my shirt as took it off. I broke a shoelace and cursed as I fumbled with it.
“Hurry!” Iris said again, and she turned from me and went back to the record player. As I shed the rest of my clothes, she put the record back on again and started the player. The music burst into the room just as I yanked off my shorts and finally stood as naked as she.
Iris turned and came to me as I stood waiting for her with my back to the chair. She pushed herself right up against me, her nipples pressing close against my bare chest.
And then she started dancing again.
She stretched high, but instead of stretching out her arms, placed them around my neck. I stood firm, not backing up one step. Iris started shaking, just as she had before only this time she was shaking against me. I put my hands on her hips, felt their agitated movement and pulled her even closer.
She didn’t stop moving.
Her hips rolled and shook, her stomach pressed into mine, rubbing, grinding, flesh against flesh, her warmth flowing into me and spreading throughout my body. Her breasts heaved and surged against my chest, the nipples sliding back and forth over my skin.
Iris kept her arms around my neck, her mouth open as she looked up at me and ground her body against me. I bent my head down, and her eager lips sucked hungrily at my mouth, her tongue drawing mine out after it and into her mouth.
The music pounded away at my ear-drums, and Iris pounded away at my body with hers, and all of it Iris, me, the music seemed to blend into one churning, rolling grinding mass of sheer sensation.
And then Iris began the bumps.
Amazingly enough, she kept in perfect time to the music, her mouth clinging to mine, her hips thrusting back and forth as she bumped against me over and over again. It was wild, it was crazy, it was out of this world.
There seemed to be no stopping her. Desire became a thing of painful joy in me, and my body began to move with hers. I let my hands drop to her buttocks and squeezed hard, pulling her tightly to me with every move, releasing her only to allow her to draw her hips back for another lunge at me.
We stopped kissing long enough to suck air into our lungs, and then our mouths crushed together again. Not once did Iris stop moving against me.
I was ready to take her now, and my mind raced ahead to the bedroom. I tried to pull away and lead her there.
But Iris had other ideas.
She moved so fast I had no idea what she was doing. Next thing I knew she had spun both of us around completely and now had her back to me while she faced the armchair. My arms automatically went around her, and I pulled her to me. Her writhing buttocks came back against my middle, and she continued the dance, still somehow keeping in time with the music. We were front-to-back now, her gorgeous body nestled against me, her buttocks moving furiously.
My breathing was heavy and rapid now. We had switched positions without Iris once losing the beat, without slowing down for a second and passion continued to build up in me.
I moved my hands up her body until they cupped her breasts from behind, and I began to move against her, pushing my middle into her soft buttocks, then withdrawing, then coming forward again. Iris squealed with delight, and her hips moved violently as she pressed her buttocks to me.
Then, moving so gradually at first that I wasn’t aware of what she was doing, she began to bend over. Her back arched, and her breasts pressed into my palms as she doubled over, keeping her hips in constant motion.
I suddenly became aware of the silence of the record player, and I knew that the record had finished and the player had automatically shut itself off. But Iris had not once stopped moving. She was now moving in a different rhythm, a rhythm of passion and desire that was older and more meaningful than any music.
And she continued to bend over until finally I let go of her breasts. Evidently, that was what she had been waiting for. She stumbled forward, her body moving away from mine for the first time, her arms stretched out in front of her as she fell toward the chair.
Only she wasn’t really falling.
She had a definite purpose in mind.
Her hands touched the seat of the armchair, and she let her whole body move forward, up onto the seat cushion. It was a big, wide chair, and she fit into it nicely. She bent over, slid her hands along the cushion, and settled herself on the chair on her hands and knees. While I watched her in wonder and in rising excitement, she positioned herself on the chair so that her head and shoulders were resting on the back edge of the cushion, her knees on the front edge, her buttocks high in the air. Then she wriggled her buttocks suggestively, and I needed no further invitation.
I stepped up to her, placed both hands on her upraised buttocks and gently moved her into position as I came up to her. She moved herself until her knees were braced against the arms of the chair on either side.
Guiding her buttocks with my hands, I pressed myself to her, and took her quickly that way with one slow motion.
A long sigh came from Iris. We worked slowly at first. Now that we were finally together, there was no need for the wild, churning movements that had preceded our union. Now we both wanted to slow down and take our time. It was better that way. It would make everything last that much longer.
We fell into a natural, rhythmic movement, and her buttocks rolled softly as she circled her hips. I pressed myself closer to her and thrust tentatively. Instantly she moved just a little faster. I responded with another movement, and then another.
We kept going like that for several moments, not forcing anything, moving easily and rhythmically. Iris moaned softly a couple of times, and I felt desire beginning to build quickly in me.
I increased the speed of my movements slightly, and Iris also moved a little faster. I kept a tight grip on her buttocks, my fingers pressing into her flesh, guiding her as she moved.
We were building up speed now, and Iris gasped as I moved suddenly. I moved forward again, and this brought another gasp from her.
And then, suddenly, both of us were moving with complete abandon. Her buttocks writhed and twisted against me, and I moved to her repeatedly, lifting her knees from the chair each time, forcing myself closer and closer to the all-consuming passion of her body. I moved against her over and over again, losing all sense of rhythm, feeling only the driving pleasure of the powerful desire that gripped me.
Iris whimpered and moaned and threw her entire body into the effort. Her buttocks heaved up against me, her hips twisted and rolled as she gyrated herself, arching her back, digging into the cushion with her knees, moving back and forth and up and down in a frenzy of heated motion.
I clung to her and let my hands move from her buttocks to her breasts, gripping them as they swayed, curling my fingers around the mounds of her breasts from behind.
A cry of pleasure came from Iris as our passion mounted rapidly to the bursting point, and we finished in a blinding, explosive climax that tied every muscle in my body into knots.
Mention Chinese erotica and most people think of finely painted, sexually explicit art, frequently on paper scrolls, silk or porcelain. Erotic carvings of ivory or jade also come to mind, some with moveable parts cleverly constructed to appear prudely proper unless viewed from a specific angle or when opened up. However, prior to this century, China was the Oriental country with the most erotic novels so much so that the Japanese and Koreans translated these to fill their own cultural voids.
The most famous Chinese erotic novel is Chin P’ing Mei The Golden Lotus, aka The Amorous Adventures Of Hsi Men Ching And His Merry Wives . Its chapters, in the words of the great Sinologist Van Gulik, “give a detailed account of the intimate relations among members of a large Chinese household, including most realistic descriptions of sexual intercourse, both in prose and poetry and are mines of information on Chinese private and public life, manners, morals, and sexual habits of that time.” Written around 1560, it has been attributed to the author Wang Shi-cheng, who died in 1593, although the story was nominally set in the Sung Dynasty of four hundred years earlier. The text remained in manuscript for about one hundred years, and some chapters were lost. It was finally printed in twenty volumes accompanied by a series of sexually explicit wood block illustrations. A tame partial English translation openly appeared in the United States in 1927. A more complete, four-volume translation by Clement Egerton, published in 1939, academically rendered the novel’s sex scenes into Latin. An explicit, but fanciful translation was published in 1956 in Paris by Olympia Press, under the title Houses Of Joy.
Here are some excerpts from that most recent edition.
In the bedroom, after a few goblets of wine, the conversation became more intimate. First they drank together from the same side of the goblet. Then the young woman moved her low stool nearer and nearer to his chair. He laid his arm about her neck and kissed her with a passionate tongue-kiss, while she let her hand fall, as though by accident, on his swelling lap. In mutual desire, the hot waters of their passion bubbled over. Now she unsheathed herself, and he too stripped off his clothes. They stood locked together. With a sense of blissful relief he was conscious of her soft flesh, her smooth skin.
Then Hsi Men lifted the lovely Mistress An in his strong arms and carried her quivering body to the couch, where he laid it down gently.
She was an extremely diminutive woman, perfectly proportioned, like a little Ming doll, with a tawny skin that emitted a natural fragrance unblended with luxurious scents and oils. A vigorous odor of the country emanated from her moist undergrowth and from her armpits. There was something supremely natural about this woman. Hsi Men, weary of the refinements that his wives lavished on their own bodies, was strangely moved by her.
Six months of abstinence had given a wild ardor to her glistening eyes. Even her first embraces were frantic, whereas those of his wives, well in the groove of wealthy love, were usually languidly rhythmical.
This young woman seemed to be like a delicate animal struggling from the jaws of death, and quite unused to being in such a predicament. There was no rhythm to the shuddering and shivering of her skin as it burned against his body, no measured way in which she jerked her hips against his thigh, clasped tightly in the nook of her bubbling love-saddle.
Just a few kisses on her exceptionally small mouth, coupled with the usual preliminary finger-play, were enough to induce a series of irregular convulsions to radiate from her fluttering internal secret, corrugating her body with passions that are normally the result of a male’s searing ejection. One after another, in quick succession, a number of little cries burst forth from her lips as the waves of passion broke and seethed along her flesh glowing and glistening like a beach in the light of the full moon.
She was so vulnerable and sensitive to his very least gestures that Hsi Men was greatly flattered and touched. He even felt a little afraid to joust her with his mighty weapon, as if fearing he might kill her with it so, for a time, he held back. For a good while he was quite content to enjoy her clutching at his skin, simply as a result of letting his fingertips tickle the rim of her tight sex.
It was she herself who slipped below his knee, streaking his leg with dewy sap, twisting round and lowering her head to his organ. She sucked the spongy tip of it so large that her cherry lips could hardly fit over it while Hsi Men parted her firm buttocks with his palms and let his fingers play, both with her buttocks as well as the quivering, dribbling slit beneath them. Then he pried her thighs apart and, pushing them back so that her saddle was fully exposed, he cushioned his chest against her soft forelegs.
The hair grew sparsely about the unwrinkled thread of her love-purse, and as he lifted himself into position he snatched a stabbing glimpse at two firm mounds folding firmly inwards against each other. As she placed her tiny hands on his buttocks, he reached down with one hand and, parting the swelling mounds with two fingers, inserted the head of his enormous member into the tight entrance guarded by her cherry lips.
Indeed, although she was no virgin, Nature had endowed her with such a narrow sheath that no amount of practice would make it gape and spread like a mess of raw meat. As his large, stiff member plumbed it, it moved to the right and to the left, causing such ecstasy that all pleasure was contained in its throat. While Hsi Men plunged and reared, causing her body to convulse with each stroke, he stretched the sheath which clung to his member as firmly as his own skin to its uttermost.
Now the little woman threw her legs about his waist, giving short, hoarse animal cries undisguised by any sophistication while her narrow sheath squeezed and sucked on his organ. Her sheath was coursed with a million thrills as the sturdy monster nearly burst it apart.
Like a water pump, it drew the scalding liquid from his firm testicles up the sinewy pipe of his organ, swelling hard along the lower surface of her violet tunnel. Now, at last, the pearly liquid spattered in heavy jets, swelling the fleshy thimble that ended her passage. Each jet made her give a piercing shriek and sink her finger-tips deep into Hsi Men’s muscular chest.
Now Hsi Men lay panting over her, covering her shimmering breasts and neck with grateful, burning kisses. And Mistress An lay quietly, staring in wide-eyed wonder at this sensual giant who had stretched her pleasures to the uttermost.
Many times that afternoon did the phoenix grow its tiny wings again.
There is an old adage which tells us: To know one’s own feet, one must wear another’s shoes. So, dear reader, what could be better for such a one as Hsi Men than to seek the attention of another man’s wife? a wife who strains to clothe the body of her new lover with the sensual image of the husband she has learned to serve so well, a woman who exudes a perfume blended to excite other nostrils.
By the side of the couch, Mistress Ping, in a silken chemise that gave a silvery fluidity to the mounds and valleys of her body, leaned trembling against the naked Hsi Men, whose hands slid with the silk up the back of her thighs and along the cleft between the cheeks of her firm buttocks.
Hsi Men nearly swooned as she folded her blue-white arms about his neck, for this simple gesture lifted the thrilling chemise along the surface of his strong but sensitive body.
He drew her face, now strangely serious, towards him. But she anticipated his gesture and, lifting herself upon her little toes, she vivaciously placed her burning mouth upon his eager lips, looking at him deeply with moist eyes. The suddenness of this unfamiliar tenderness went to his head like drink, and his hands slipped up to the small of her back and squeezed her still tighter. Their two heads, joined at the mouth, inclined together, their nostrils panting, their eyes closed. Never before did Hsi Men understand so clearly as in the vertigo, the frenzy, the half-unconscious state in which they found themselves, all that is really meant by the “intoxication of the kiss.” He no longer knew who he was or what was going to happen. The present was so intense that the future and past disappeared in it.
She moves her lips with his. She burns in his arms, and he feels her small stomach pressing him in a fervent, silken caress that he has never known before. Then she moves away a little and, placing a lily hand on his red-hot member, which stands firmly upward, she pushes it down and grasps it between her sheathed thighs. And as it slips upward again to the place where her love-lips have moistened her chemise, she runs her fingers, as tender and supple as bamboo shoots, along his spine.
Consider a woman who cuts her claws
So her eyes may be all the sweeter.
She masters her own malevolence
To better release her sensuality.
Then he lowers his hands and peels off her chemise, pressing himself against her burning skin. Now he moves away in order to feast his eyes, as she lifts the garment over her head and tosses it wantonly on the floor.
Behold! Her lovely form is bathed in moonlight, and the fullness of a strange and heady scent envelops her like a fragrant cloud. The downy, swelling darkness beneath her small belly, and the blue tufts under her arms, are perfumed with crisp mint, carrying messages of freshness mixed with the ancient odor of sensuality to his quivering nostrils.
And now he steps forward into her aura. Her breasts are in his hands. How soft they seem! How gently warm! Compared to these, the breasts of his beloved Fifth are hard as statued marble. He rests his burning lips on her naked arms, her rounded shoulders, her soft breasts again and again, her white neck.
He sighs deeply and, leading him by the hand, she draws aside the curtain of orange silk and causes him to kneel on the soft bed. She mounts beside him and slips her little head under his belly. Then, imitating the trembling kid that drinks from its mother, she sucks on the spongy teat that tops his member. Hsi Men can no longer contain himself. He leaps up and embraces her so vigorously that she cries aloud, then he makes his path through her mysterious blue jungle. She presses him upon her and rocks her agile thighs, slithering her tongue between his foaming lips. Now she knows nothing more of the world, and her four threshing limbs could be cut off without awakening her from her delight. Hsi Men’s thrusting charger is like the head of a natural loom that draws his nerves into threads and twines them into a sensual knot that chokes the throat of his charger, swells until it magically bursts in molten liquid form, scattering in her red cavern like balls of lead shot.
At last they lie quietly. Her loins are gently hollowed like a bowl for holding fruits, and truly the tenderest fruits are contained within its rim! Beside the moist blue woman-fruit lies the fat pink male-fruit, and below it the ancient fountain-fruit which contains two magical seeds!
As after a strenuous dance, a thousand pearls of perspiration appear on her brilliant skin. So she takes a towel from the couchside table and rubs herself from belly to head, as though she had come from a bath…
When the phoenix has grown its wings again, with her two legs in the air and her knees apart, Mistress Ping curves herself backward and touches the bed with her toes. While Hsi Men’s member is cushioned in the lush funnel that leads into the depths of her innards, she stretches her head upward toward the wrinkled sac dangling from the root of his submerged pillar. She fills her wetted mouth with it and lets her tongue curve round each of its eggs, those rich, oval granaries that charge the throat of his fleshy pillar with the turbulent liquid of life. Soon she feels its contents disgorging into her body, and every cell of Hsi Men’s flesh envies his neighbor Hua.
A few days later, Hsi Men went to the house in Lion Street. Mistress Ping ushered him into a festively illuminated guest chamber where the bronze braziers, freshly filled with glowing charcoal, and the bright tapestries on the walls, radiated warmth and comfort, while the blue-gray wafts of ambergris vapor, rising in curious undulations like the curves of a cryptic script, filled the room with aromatic fragrance.
When Hsi Men had settled himself on a couch, Mistress Ping fell to her knees, performed a kowtow and solemnly began:
“Since the death of my unworthy husband, I am all alone. Wherever I look, nowhere do I see kith or kin to cherish me. You, noble lord, are today my only support. If I do not appear altogether ill-favored and inferior in your sight, grant me the privilege of preparing your couch and arranging your blankets! Let me be a sister to your wives! Then I should die with sweetness in my heart!”
There was a pleading expression in her eyes, which were glistening with tears. Hsi Men took with one hand the cup which she offered him, while with the other he gently raised her to his side.
“Your loving words shall remain engraved on my heart like a bronze inscription,” he said. “As soon as your period of mourning is over, I will take counsel. In the meantime, don’t worry.”
After a sumptuous repast, the lovers retired to the bed chamber, where they stripped themselves while Pear Blossom was preparing the couch. Since her husband’s death, Lady Ping had permitted Hsi Men to make use of both maids, so the lovers observed no restraint in their presence. On this occasion Pear Blossom was invited by her mistress to assist in taming the incomparable master. Hsi Men was delighted by this novel suggestion, and playfully helped the little maid divest herself of her silken pantaloons. Just as the furry blue love nest was revealed, he joyfully brushed it with his lips and was overwhelmed by its fragrance. Now mistress and maid, the one emanating the savors of summer and the other of spring, pulled their master onto the couch under the purple hangings, where the titles “mistress,” “master” and “maid” become as meaningless as a game of chess in a city undergoing enemy invasion.
Hsi Men lay on his back, while the two women stretched themselves out along his muscular body, Pear Blossom with her head towards his thighs, and Lady Ping with his chin beneath her love-purse.
Pear Blossom, half-kneeling, placed Hsi Men’s hard pillar into the warm cavity of her mouth, while Lady Ping needled her deft tongue into the maid’s fluttering moistness. Needless to say, Hsi Men’s tongue, which darted about the tiny cherry of enchantment within those secret lips spread wetly over his mouth, set this fleshy chain of sensuality vibrating.
Hsi Men grasped on the cheeks of Pear Blossom’s buttocks, pressing into them with his fingertips and drawing them apart in order to give Lady Ping greater access. In her excitement, the worthy widow frantically grabbed at the hanging breasts of the little maid while jabbing her furry saddle backward in short jerks against Hsi Men’s mouth.
The maid was truly mistress of her mouth, While she sucked and slid her feverish lips around the stem of Hsi Men’s glistening charger, her clever tongue curled and twined about the spongy head of it, flushing it with such thrills that Hsi Men rocked madly from side to side. As they clutched at each other, rearing and heaving, the shocks that coursed through their separate bodies seemed to leap across their limbs in blue flashes webbing together until, indeed, the three of them were organs of one and the same animal which partook of a single, searing passionate soul.
By the juiciness spurting from Pear Blossom’s orifice, mingling with the wetness of her mistress’s mouth, and by the hardening and penetrating insistence of Hsi Men’s tongue, Lady Ping knew that Hsi Men’s gargoyle was beginning to buck and kick in Pear Blossom’s mouth. And so closely were they linked in a single ecstasy that, in her special way, she was well aware of the flame-liquid swelling up the throat of his burning charger, palpitating in another’s mouth. As it burst from the bud of his charger, bathing the purple cavity between the maid’s jaws, both women shrieked, Pear Blossom sighing into the neck of Hsi Men’s jerking monster, and Lady Ping pressing her mouth into the maid’s meaty moistness and opening the quivering lips like a flower.
When Nature had claimed its victory over Hsi Men, reducing his proud charger to a helpless, fat slug, the women’s ovens were still crying out for wood, so they fell on each other with little shrieks, while Hsi Men’s eyes feasted on their writhing limbs and torsos. They had anchored their heads in each other’s thighs with their agile tongues, and their dark crowns of hair bobbed like seaweed at either end as on a gathering white wave. Then they rolled over each other, as if they were wrestling, stretching and kicking their legs in the air, clawing at each other with their frantic hands.
There was no exhausting Lady Ping. When Pear Blossom fell aside, convulsed and moaning, her mistress leaped astride Hsi Men, who had grown another truncheon. With his throbbing whip-handle stroking into her crimson depths, she rode Hsi Men in a frenzy, crouching low as if she were urging on a racehorse. His eyes were shut, his lips drawn tight against his pearly teeth, and his fingers pried into the mouth of her sex, while the palms of his hands urged on her buttocks, now hard with lust, in the rhythm of this passionate race. As the primal fire began to rage in her body, screaming that the winning post was near, she crouched even lower, burying her face into Hsi Men’s neck, while her loosened hair flapped against his shoulder like the mane of a wild stallion.
Pear Blossom had now recovered. She watched these finishing moments with wide, excited eyes. The lovers were so possessed by their ardor that they seemed transformed, and the little maid looked on them locked and bucking as if she had seen them for the first time. Then her mistress gave a loud shriek and threw herself onto Hsi Men’s heaving chest, his arms locked about her. Her hips twitched and turned as each fireball of his molten sap shot into the quivering, red flesh of her innards, and her taut legs slipped backwards between his opening thighs and kicked against the bed. There she lay moaning, panting, writhing.
The little maid, inflamed by what she saw, tore her mistress from her anchor and fell on the dying member with her hungry mouth draining its pipe of the last remaining drops.
The last “Book Bonus” introduced China’s most famous erotic novel, Chin P’ing Mei, a typical didactic novel of the Ming Dynasty. The protagonist, Hsi Men Chung, was a government official and successful merchant, despite his total lack of moral principles and business ethics. Although allowed by law to have multiple wives, he was incapable of marital fidelity, and doted on all manner of sex, including those considered perverse and “kinky” even by modern, swinging, bacchanals.
Despite its salacious content, the book was initially allowed circulation by the Chinese Royal Court because the domestic, personal and mercantile woes of the protagonist were attributed to his failure to adhere to proper Confucian philosophy. The picaresque and sexy novel hence became a volume of moral instruction, by negative example! Subsequent regimes more puritanical or less gullible condemned the text to destruction and forbade further publication. It soon became extremely rare and valuable, surviving only in copies hidden in private libraries or smuggled out of the country. Thus, few people outside of China could enjoy it until the latter part of the twentieth century
An English translation, entitled Houses of Joy by “Wu Wu Meng” was published in Paris by the Olympia Press in 1956. The publisher, Maurice Girodias, was given a manuscript chapter by a Chinese-reading South African named Sinclair Beiles. For a fee, the translation was completed and was printed before the original title of the novel was known. Here are several more excerpts from this edition.
The banquet in the Water-Lily Pavilion continued until the evening. At a late hour Hsi Men entered the chamber of his favorite. He was slightly drunk, and the wine had inflamed in him a desire for the delights of love.
Gold Lotus arranged the bed and lighted incense in the bronze basin. They helped each other to undress, and slipped between the silken sheets. But although the wine had wakened his desire, it had robbed him of his strength, and Gold Lotus discovered that Hsi Men was not really in the mood for the usual game of clouds and rain.
Hsi Men called for tea, and at once the maid Spring Plum appeared, in a thin silken nightgown that sheathed her body like a skin of water. His loss of physical potency seemed to stimulate his visual lust. In a moment his eyes ravished the beautiful maid’s body and finally fixed themselves on those coral nipples straining against the milky silk.
The lovers were lying naked above the covers with their limbs twined together when the maid, all too promptly, appeared. Embarrassed, Gold Lotus hastily drew the bed-curtains. Hsi Men smiled at her shyness.
“Why are you embarrassed before your own maid? Lady Ping, next door, is not in the least disconcerted when her husband enjoys himself in front of one of her handmaids or even when he enjoys himself with a handmaid. By the way, the older one is of the same age as our Spring Plum. The one who brought you the flowers today is the younger. Pretty young things, both of them. What a sly chap, this Hua! Who would have thought him capable at his age of making up to attractive women!”
Gold Lotus gave her husband a casual, scrutinizing glance. “What a rascal you are! Of course, every word you have just spoken was uttered with Spring Plum in mind. Very well, take her! Why all this beating around the bush? I am not one to object! Tomorrow, if you wish, I’ll make way for your little one, for a time.”
Hsi Men was charmed. “How clever you are at providing for my comfort! I have every reason to love you!” And so they continued to enjoy each other quietly and in complete harmony. Gold Lotus played a flute, and when the flute-play slowly died away, they at last fell asleep, head pressed closely to head, thigh to thigh. Not without reason is it said: “Wouldst thou fetter thy love with thine arts? Then, little woman, play the flute!’
Gold Lotus kept her word. She spent the next day with Moon Lady so that Hsi Men might be undisturbed in his possession of Spring Plum.
As with newly-afflicted widows, there are a variety of virgins.
Of everlasting virgins there are two kinds. One stays faithful to her fingers for the rest of her life, and the other, pleading to be saved from an ardent admirer, says urgently, “Please do not break my virginity again!”
Then there are natural virgins. All young girls who have not had the pleasure of squeezing a man’s hips between their thighs belong to this illustrious category whether they have torn a path into the cavern of delight with fingers, brush handles, chopsticks, or one of the other utensils that can be put to this use, makes no difference.
Of pure virgins, even amongst maids whose breasts are still painful little buds, there are, alas, all too few. Spring Plum, however, was a pure virgin.
True, her fingers had caressed the rim of her pleasure bowl, eliciting thrills of the rarest quality, but still she remained a pure virgin. The ancient sage who laid down the categories states: “A magnolia sheds its petals only when the fleshy curtain, guarding the orifice itself, is rent.”
Spring Plum was fortunate enough to have witnessed and envied the sport of her mistress with that incomparable master, Hsi Men. And so, when fluttering her fingers within the rim of her pleasure bowl, she always drew back from the curtain, determined to reserve the painful delights of tearing it to such a one as Hsi Men. Thus foresight saved the maid from robbing herself of an adventure allowed to the gentle sex but once in a lifetime.
Gold Lotus took good care in advising the young maid whose eyelids had fluttered on a mere nineteen summers of her master’s intentions, and the girl pretended utter innocence. True, her little heart began to patter and her limbs began to quake and the firm young mound between her thighs began to throb confusedly, yet she thought she knew what was expected.
Hsi Men was amazed that evening when he entered her bedchamber. The bed was heaped with fragrant blossoms, and the little maid lay amidst them cool petals crushed between the inner lengths of her hot thighs, pressed closely together. As she lifted herself, the petals fell away from her shapely shoulders, firmly molded breasts and beautifully modeled limbs. At last her whole body emerged through its floral quilt. Her skin was of a full and tawny richness, taking on the delicate tints of the blossoms. Her jet-black hair, freed from the clutch of the tortoise-shell’s teeth, spread out beside one ivory cheek like a feathery wing.
Hsi Men took a step forward and she sank back into the living quilt that cooled her tingling skin, gathering up the blossoms over her with those lily-stem fingers.
The deflowering of pure virgins was a rare pleasure even for Hsi Men, so his heart was beating wildly, like an untried youth’s. He let his loose gown fall from his shoulders and sat down cautiously next to Spring Plum, while she stared in wonder and terror at his manly body. Its muscles rippled and glistened through a thin film of aromatic oil. Hsi Men made no move for fear of frightening the girl, causing the muscles in her thighs to tighten and the moistness of her love-mound to dry up.
She realized that Hsi Men would not devour her instantly. Carefully, with one hand, she brushed away the petals and offered him one of her warm, sweet breasts, as one would offer a living turtle dove to a god. Then she said, with a charm that brought youthful tears to Hsi Men’s eyes: “Love them well. I love them so much! I busy myself with them when I am alone. I play with them. I bathe them with milk. I powder them with flowers. My soft hair, which dries them, is dear to their little points. I caress them and shiver. Because they are so far from my mouth, give them kisses for me.”
Hsi Men bent over and took a rosy nipple gently between his lips, and she stuck her lily fingers into his thick hair and pressed his head closer to her breast. As her nipple hardened between his practiced lips, his hand wandered lightly over the secret mounds and valleys of her body, caressing her belly and opening her knees. Her eyes were moist. Her warm mouth trembled and her ears became pink seashells.
She disengaged one hand from his hair and gently let it fall between his thighs, on the cruel tenterhook which jutted from his loins. “It is so mighty! 0 heavens, how can it!” A blush of fire mounted her cheeks. Her temples throbbed, her arms stiffened and her knees faltered.
Hsi Men felt that before him lay a young girl about to die, and with his lips he sought to reassure her. He pressed them against her cherry mouth and taught it to open with his tongue, which then probed the terrified darkness, quieting her fear.
At last she lay quietly, and Hsi Men found the secret of her body with his fingers. It was moist with dew. It had stopped quivering like a frightened butterfly, and now the folds had attained their full firmness and throbbed with desire.
As he positioned himself between her knees, he moved his tongue lightly along her arm and over her milk-white neck. Reassured, with two certain fingers she opened her blue flower and Hsi Men carefully inserted the pulsing head of his tenterhook.
The thrills that coursed through her body, emanating from the throbbing male-bud, gave her strength and courage, and she allowed Hsi Men to raise her knees against his chest, pressing them back upon her breasts. He clasped her shoulders firmly in preparation for the great thrust.
A single sturdy lunge into her depths shattered the fleshy window that separated them from their pleasure. Oh, joy! A cry tore the evening air. She threw her arms around her master and pulled him tight against her, while her fingers clutched at his back.
He plunged and reared relentlessly, forcing through the entrance to her whirlpool. It sucked and fluttered about his mighty pillar in ecstasy. Her mouth was dry and paralyzed. Tears welled up in her delirious eyes, tears of joy and regret. Warm sweat ran like tears from her armpits, moistening her breasts, and a river flowed between her thighs.
Soon his thrusting pillar churned her liquid passion into a bubbling fount of unimaginable ecstasy. She pressed her jade-hard lips against his neck and kicked her lily feet in the air. Her mouth became moist again, and little cries escaped from it each time he entered her. She searched out his mouth with hers and pulled his lip between her own, sucking on it to keep from crying out again in her joy and agitation. He brushed her hair aside in order to more clearly see her passion.
Then, with one huge thrust he rammed his charger to the depths of her palpitating darkness and released his fiery stream. It spurted and scalded her, and the heat of it poured through her body like molten lava, filling every cavity and limb. At last a second cry escaped her lips and fluttered about the room like a trapped bird.
From then on, Spring Plum enjoyed the special favor of her master. Her only duties were to make the beds and to serve tea. Whatever clothes and jewelry she desired, Gold Lotus gave her out of her own belongings. Spring Plum, apart from her attractive appearance, was a clever, capable little thing she was witty in repartee, always cheerful, and fond of a jest different from lethargic, unpractical Autumn Aster, who seemed older than she was.
An afternoon came when the spring air shone with flying seeds. Gold Lotus and Hsi Men took their meal in the walled park behind the house. Having quickly drunk a good deal of wine, Gold Lotus began to feel slightly intoxicated her cheeks assumed the delicate red of the peach-blossom, and her sidelong glance had the moist gleam of the autumnal waves. When Hsi Men sent Spring Plum to fetch more wine, Gold Lotus told the little maid to bring her a few mats and cushions, for she was feeling tired, and wished to lie down for a time. Hsi Men called after Spring Plum that she shouldn’t tire herself with lifting and carrying, and told her to send Autumn Aster to do her mistress’s bidding. After a while Autumn Aster came stumbling out of the house, heavily laden with cushions and mats. Gold Lotus made her arrange a comfortable resting place on the ground then she was allowed to go.
“Shut the gate of the park after you!” Gold Lotus commanded. “And don’t return unless your master and I send for you again.”
The two made themselves comfortable. First Hsi Men took off his coat and hung it over the balustrade, and when he returned from a brief excursion to empty his bladder in the shrubbery, he found Gold Lotus lying absolutely naked. Her red satin shoes were her only clothing.
The sight of Gold Lotus heated Hsi Men’s blood to the boiling point. He quickly threw off the rest of his clothes, but sat down on one of the porcelain stools. He wished to delay his approach to his beloved until he had determined a means of heightening their pleasures.
He suddenly conceived the peculiar notion of calling Spring Plum and asking her to stand within the bushes nearby, to watch their love-play. He called her, and explained to her that she must observe as though by accident their dalliance. Spring Plum feared that her master was making use of this expedient to tell her that he knew how many times she had hidden herself and observed their union in the past. Upon this thought, she blushed from forehead to throat, and Hsi Men cried out, “Yes, this is precisely what I had hoped for! See what an effect you have had on me already. Now go and stand behind the branches, there where I can see you, and peek out from time to time.” Spring Plum did as she was bidden.
Hsi Men returned to Gold Lotus and positioned her so that her legs were widely parted and the lips of her love-saddle fully revealed. Like a backward-rearing dragon with uplifted forelegs, there she lay, listening to the locusts sing on the warm air and waiting breathlessly for his amorous approach.
He knelt down and, parting her orifice wide, he placed his lips between their wet, pink surfaces. Sucking and licking at the tangy flesh, he stretched his arms between her legs, over her shapely belly, and cupped her tingling breasts in his hands, rubbing the coral nipples to sturdy points against his palms. Gold Lotus twisted and shivered with pleasure. It was as if a thousand needles were lightly tattooing her opening.
She clutched at his head and wove her ecstatic fingers through his thick locks. Her ankles flew in the air in lazy circles like herons. When she lowered her feet again, she felt his rigid member against her leg and, overcome by its size and strength, began to quake. Her ardor soon had her flexing and contracting her thigh muscles so that her love-purse flapped and sucked on his busy lips as never before. Again her legs began to kick. The sensual impulses coursed down her thighs, revealed themselves in the fluttering of her lily feet, then returned to the source from whence they came the furry love-fruit, its glistening contents cracked open by Hsi Men’s fervent mouth.
Hsi Men felt those juicy insides swelling and spurting their woman’s sap, and heard Gold Lotus give a hoarse cry for his sinewy member.
Rising and moving his muscular body forward, he fixed his wet lips on her burning mouth, silencing her cries, and while she stabbed her tongue into the darkness between his teeth, he thrust his throbbing pillar into her seething whirlpool.
Her arms were locked about his back, and as she felt his iron-hard flesh gagging her secret throat of joy, she unclutched her hands and drew her nails lightly along his spine, causing him to thrust at her with greater energy. Her sheath gripped his powerfully stroking stem as if he had inserted it into a giant octopus sucker.
All the while, Hsi Men was able to see, over the shoulder of his beloved, Spring Plum observing their progress through the parted leaves. Although their exertion had gone on now for some time, she continued to blush the color of a cherry blossom. From time to time her tongue involuntarily emerged and touched the corner of her lip, and a drop of moisture hung there, glistening.
Her fascination drove her master on to greater efforts, and his glistening shoulders rose and fell at an ever-greater pace. The old wooden pillars of the pavilion where they lay creaked and groaned as in a storm, Gold Lotus’s becoming more and more impassioned by Hsi Men’s thrusting. The vines shook with her passion.
Her insides churned and waves of fire ravaged her body, raising glistening pearls of sweat on her shimmering skin. Gold Lotus shouted her passion to the seven heavens. Hsi Men saw that Spring Plum had stuffed her fist between her legs and squeezed it hard, to try to quiet the disorder that had arisen there from watching her master and mistress.
At last a jet of scalding liquid issued from the swollen tip of Hsi-Men’s member, cauterising Gold Lotus’s love-crazed cavity so powerfully that the cry which had gathered in her throat was paralyzed. She gave a final convulsive shudder, and the vines shook as if a gust of wind had suddenly tossed their boughs. Hsi Men collapsed against her dripping body, while Gold Lotus sighed and tenderly clasped her arms about his panting trunk.
Quickly the phoenix grew its wings again. Hsi Men, stimulated by Spring Plum’s agitation, conceived a desire for further delights. He hastily tore himself away from Gold Lotus and, all naked as he was, ran with great strides in the direction of the maid.
When Spring Plum saw him coming, she fled along a narrow path which led past the Grotto of Hidden Spring and plunged into a dense shrubbery, where she thought she would be safe from observation.
However, he soon discovered her hiding place and, parting the branches, stood before her, hot and panting after his run.
“I have you at last!” he cried, laughing. Then he lifted her in his arms like a bundle, and carried her back to the vine arbor. He asked her what she wanted, and she boldly grasped his iron tool. Then he stripped her, and she sat on his lap while his organ filled her innards. While she rocked her buttocks gently in the cradle of his thighs, the little maid glanced over his shoulder, with amazement in her eyes, to see that Gold Lotus was now observing them!
“This is a pretty crazy thing to do in broad daylight!” she ventured to remark. “Suppose anyone were to come this way?”
“Oh, nonsense!” replied Hsi Men. “We purposely got Autumn Aster to bolt the gate. I hope you didn’t leave it open!” Then he threw the little maid from his lap. “Now look here, little oily-mouth, I’ll show you a new sort of bottle-game. It is my own invention. It’s called Shooting with Golden Bullets at the Silver Swan.”
He took from the dish of iced fruit salad three hard, yellow plums and proceeded, taking careful aim, to throw them a mere inch in front of Gold Lotus’s furry target. Three times he threw, and three times he struck the same spot.
“Oh, you’re so skillful!” shrieked the drunken woman, writhing with laughter, while he poured himself a large beaker of wine, which he awarded to himself as a prize for his accurate shooting.
“Give your mistress something to drink too, and cool her with your fan!” he ordered the maid, speaking thickly. “I want to sleep now.”
He dropped heavily onto the mats, and in a moment he was asleep. Gold Lotus, heavy with wine, also fell asleep, and Spring Plum took this opportunity of creeping away to her mistress’ pavilion, where in secrecy she could satisfy her unfulfilled experience with Hsi Men by stroking her pleasure bowl with an ebony brush handle.
An hour later Hsi Men was awake again, and as he woke, his lustful desires revived. When he had once more satisfied them with his lawful wife, he released Gold Lotus from his embrace. She lay limply on the mats, completely exhausted, and hardly able to breathe. The tip of her tongue seemed as cold as ice. Gradually life returned to her.
As he helped her to dress and escorted her to her sleeping pavilion, he thought to himself: Today I have really conquered my tempestuous desires. And for the moment he had!
Last month’s “Book Bonus” was an excerpt from the introductory section of the turn-of-the-century, quasi-Japanese novel Shore Leave, a work also known as Amorous Adventures of a Japanese Gentleman.
This text could be of fascination to scholars and social scientists as a contemporary, vernacular glimpse of the sexual interaction of foreigners with the well-regulated and institutionalized Japanese prostitution industry of the time. But the novel makes no pretense of academic or scholarly purpose. It reads very much like the late publications of the nineteenth-century erotica publisher D. Cameron, whose erotica included The Pearl, The Boudoir, and erotic works by William Potter and his ribald circle of friends. That such could be the case is neither surprising nor coincidental. Potter, partial author and editor of The Romance of Lust, had visited Japan prior to 1873, as had his friend, the famous erotobibliophile H.S. Ashbee.
Oriental literature and tales, especially erotic ones, were of interest to many Victorians, as evidenced by nineteenth-century translations of the Arabic works The Thousand and One Nights and Abishag the renowned Indian texts Kama Sutra and Ananga Panga and the Persian Perfumed Garden. There was even a Victorian-era collection of Eastern erotic short stories, published in 1891 under the title Oriental Lascivious Tales, with Mogul, Japanese, Chinese and Malay contributions. This was actually an English translation of an earlier 1882 volume published in French . That there would be a market for more of the same, but in a hardcore version, is not hard to imagine.
Here, then, is our concluding excerpt from Shore Leave, an example of genuine Japanese literary eroticism stripped of its usual euphemisms and niceties.
You know if not, permit me to tell you that Yase is a village near Kyoto or Mikao. It is situated at the base of Hizer-Zan, the historic Buddhist stronghold. In this place the men but more especially the women attain a stature and muscular development quite unique. They are all strong, jolly, red-cheeked. They are as amorous as fettlesome mares in heat. I need not tell you that they understand the mysteries of love better than anyone else in Japan. They are the most enjoyable creatures to meet, in that they can prolong the sexual act in the most delightful and enticing manner. Their fame has traveled over the great Earth. They have among them visitors from all climes, whose lechery is such that their own people cannot satisfy them. Let me tell you here that no stranger is admitted to practice the rites of Venus at Yase without the most rigid and searching medical examination.
“By God!” interjected the old Ned. “No feller with the pox can get in there!”
Jatsakura looked severely at the old sailor. “I am not accustomed to interruption,” he querulously observed.
“Let it not occur again,” the Lieutenant Harris seriously reprimanded his underling.
The art of cohabitation, continued the narrator, is taught from early on. As soon as a person arrives at the proper age, he or she is taught the mysteries of love. The teacher’s position is a most delightful and pleasant occupation, for it is his duty to take the maidenheads of all the young virgins. Ages of practice have made them perfect. They cohabit as regularly as they eat.
Many of the women are nuns in the Buddhist monastery on the top of the mountain. In this convent, what you have come to term “chastity” is not ranked with the other virtues. It is believed by those at the monastery that the divine Buddha invented the sexual organs for the purpose of strengthening his religious tenets. His sacred words on the subject have come down to us. They are as follows:
“Mortals, I give to you the power to prolong your lives for unnumbered generations. To this power I will add unlimited joy, so that the male will seek the female, and in the delicious agonies of blissful ecstasy implant into her fruitful womb the seed that will reproduce themselves.”
Not all the beauties of the town were to be found, however, within its precincts. Numbers at an early age entered the convent on the top of the mountain, where I can assure you that not all of their time was given up to the practice of religion. The worship of the sexual organs is a most prominent feature in connection with more sacred things. Buddha’s teachings embrace many things relating to sexuality.
Now there lived in Kyoto a juggler, Hai-Ka by name. He was celebrated for his skill throughout all Japan. He was a man of great strength and beauty of person. Likewise was he famous as the possessor of an enormous prick. Its strength and size were proverbial. The ballad writers had composed numerous songs about it, and our epic poet, O-Kari-San wrote a thousand verses in its praise. The fame of its stiffness had traveled to Mikao, and by some means which I am not able to explain to you, had come to the ears of the favorite wife of the Mikado who was said to be the most beautiful woman in the world: Zai-ka-mata.
Rumor has it that the Emperor was the possessor of so many wives as to be scarcely able to satisfy a single one. Naturally the imprisoned women were great sufferers. Generous living increased their desires, and it is said that they held weekly unions and gratified themselves by fucking one another for hours with their fingers or bamboo skibi-sticks. Now Zai, tiring of a wooden prick, sighed for one of flesh and blood. She therefore determined to travel in disguise, enter the convent, bribe the nuns and enjoy the good things that she knew Hai-Ka’s prick would alone bestow upon her.
Hai-Ka was in great demand, not only for his skill as a juggler, but also for the wide reputation he possessed as the owner of the finest implement of masculine persuasion in all Japan: Everyone in the town had heard of his tool. Sometimes they followed him about as ewes do the ram, beseeching him, coaxing him, begging him to show them his treasure.
Rumor has it that one day a number of young women, just out of school, met him on the corner of a retired street.
“Ha! Good Hai-Ka,” shouted a pert miss. “We have you now! Come! Give us a sight of that about which we have heard so much!”
In order to induce him to assent, the angel threw her attire above her head and gave Hai-Ka a sight of the sweetest little slit that his eyes had ever beheld. What prick could withstand such a temptation? Certainly not Hai-Ka’s, for his tool rose to such a ponderous size and stiffness that it burst its bonds and stood out like a crane. A shout of admiration arose from the lips of the amorous girls. One sprang forward and fondled its purple head. Some walked beneath it and gazed in awestruck admiration. One of them placed her two hands up on it and raised herself from the ground with its aid.
With one voice they cried, “How is it possible that our little slits could ever contain such a monster?”
To which Hai-Ka responded, “Out of the smallest slits come the biggest babies.” With these words, he covered his tool and hastened away.
Hai-Ka served the nuns in the convent at stated intervals. On these occasions, bacchanalian orgies would usurp the worship of Buddha. It was at the beginning of one of these festivals that the Empress Zai-ka-mata arrived secretly to witness the ceremonies with the hope of being able to participate in them.
The first act that Hai-Ka was to perform began just as the greatest lady in the land entered. The apartment contained a score of women and six men, the latter being all splendid specimens of manhood. The juggler was entirely naked. He was seated in the center of the apartment. Reposing upon a rich cushion in front of him was a beautiful girl of eighteen. She, too, was in a nude state.
Hai-Ka was gradually exciting himself. One moment his hands were on the nubile young woman’s breasts. Next they were softly pressing against the delicate lips of her slit. His prick was indeed a sight to behold. Slowly it rose to its majestic length. Truly, rumor had not falsely stated its proportions. It was enormous.
Meanwhile, he had placed the girl’s thighs across his loins, bringing her love-mouth close to his organ. Then he began to address it in a singsong tone:
“Pretty red lips! Dear little ruby slit! See it stick out! Isn’t it a treasure? See! I touch it. Now she moves her ass up and down, up and down! That’s a sweet girl! Isn’t that delicious? See! I rub the precious little thing that makes her ass move quicker. That’s a dear one! Rub my prick! See how tight are the folds! Nature cries aloud! She wants the prick of man? Oh! So badly! Oh! She wants it all! Yes, I will soon part those precious lips. See! I kiss and kiss them! See! I work my finger thus. Watch her move her ass again isn’t it sublime? We all ought to worship this. It is the feast of all feasts! Now she spends! She spends! And yet, no prick has entered her! And soon she will scream with bliss oh! Ho! The way is oiled for, behold, she spends again!”
After a pause he resumed.
“Now watch me work my prick! There! It is going in! Ah! Siako! But it is good! I give an extra strong push! Harken! Just hear her shriek! She has lost her maidenhead! And now my way is clear! Up, up I go! Oh! Watch her eager, anxious lips! They are dying to be kissed! I suck and suck and suck! I fuck and fuck and fuck! Great Buddha, hear my thanks! Was ever bliss like this? Ah! I cannot hold back! Now see, she rolls her eyes! Her shrieks are loud and long! Now I am in her to the full! Oh, lovely one! Be still! Let us repose awhile!”
For a moment silence reigned. Then he began once more.
“Now kiss! And kiss! And kiss again! Again! A sweeter kiss! My ass must move again! I cannot keep it still! Take that! And that! And that! Oh, by Iza! Let me stay! By the gods, I cannot hold it back! I am off! And off again! No longer can I halt it! The stream of life is coming in its richest flow! Behold the blissful moment! Guatama, how I thank thee! The organ now has spent! Disturb her not, oh sisters. Leave us to ourselves for a few minutes. Ah, her joy is beyond expression!”
During this exciting scene the nuns were greatly affected. They laughed. They sang. They danced.
The Empress joined them in the orgy. “I come,” she cried, “from the palace of the Mikado! Your lives will pay the forfeit should you betray me. With these words, the fairest of the fair threw off her apparel, and in a frenzy of sexual passion danced round and round the apartment. The nuns quickly followed her example. Likewise did the strong-limbed men of Yase. Meanwhile, Hai-Ka and the newly-made woman were wrapped in each other’s arms.
“I am come to enjoy the famous prick of Hai-Ka!” shrieked the lustful Empress.
As she spoke thus, all eyes were fastened upon this matchless specimen of womanhood. Her limbs were round and plump, her bosoms two priceless hemispheres. Her face was the personification of beauty. The olive-tinged cheeks were flushed with crimson beauty. Her eyes outshone the brilliance of the diamonds around her neck. Her sweet mouth was a perfect Cupid’s bow, displaying in its small opening pearls out-vying the most priceless gems of the ocean’s treasure. Her long black hair fell loosely down, and all but covered the rounded cheeks of her dimpled ass. But when she danced and disclosed to us a view of her sweetest of charms her lovely slit the expressions that arose were loud and ardent. The lips pouted in the most entrancing manner. They showed themselves more prominent than is usual with a woman. A line of reddened beauty marked their limits.
The men halted to worship. One lusty fellow with a splendidly proportioned prick bowed his head before her.
“There is a woman awaiting you,” she sternly said to him, pointing to a Venus whose blushing countenance showed the strong desire within her. “I have come for Hai-Ka.”
In answer, the excited man turned to the waiting Venus to whom he had been directed. He seized her as a tiger does his prey. He kissed her exposed beauty times without number. He then pushed his glorious prick into her waiting slit, and they both proceeded to engage sexually with each other in the fiercest manner.
The rest of the women became likewise excited. They strived with one another to obtain a man. Having obtained one, they locked him in their arms, twined their thighs across his back and sighed and shrieked with joy.
Meanwhile, Hai-Ka had released himself from the arms of his late partner, and turned to the goddess who was awaiting him.
“Mighty Mistress!” he cried, bowing his head until he touched the floor, “What fortune is before me! In the light of your favor I am doubly blessed!”
“Rise, Hai-Ka,” instructed the eager Empress. “I would see this mighty instrument of thine.”
The recumbent one arose. At the sight of her glorious slit, his prick stiffened to proportions wonderful to behold. The Empress became wild with joy.
‘Tis nought but truth, Hai-Ka. I did not dream of such a noble instrument as this. They were right. Thou art indeed the owner of the greatest prick in all Japan.”
“And thou,” responded the juggler to the Empress, “art the possessor of the most lovely cunt in all the wide domain of Japan.”
“It is fitting, then,” observed Zai-ka-mata, “that we should come together for an hour: for thou art now the Emperor, the king of kings of all Japan and the adjacent islands, and I am thy humble mistress.”
The enraptured juggler was now thoroughly intoxicated with joy. Fortune had indeed blessed him. What! He, a humble juggler, in possession of the most beautiful woman in Japan? “Am I dreaming?” quoth he.
Warm kisses soon convinced him that he was not.
At the sight of his magnificent penis, the Empress fell upon her knees before him. Oh, how she fondled his prick! With what delight she weighed his heavy balls. She watered its head with her dainty tongue. She kissed it from end to end.
“What raptures will be mine!” she cried. “By all the gods, I would not lose this for a paradise! Soon it will pierce me to the full! Yes, I know I will shriek and sob and cry with joy. How delightful is the anticipation! Why, my Hai-Ka, the Mikado’s prick is all but useless. A fuck from him only creates further desire, for hardly does he enter than he spends. Oh, how many, many times have I longed for a good tool that would pierce me to the quick! And now, thanks to divine Amida, I am to be gratified!”
“Sublime majesty,” returned Hai-Ka, “I shall do my best to please you.”
Saying this, he fell upon his knees and repeatedly kissed the red-ripe lips of her glowing slit. After each kiss, she gently moved her ass. Now her whole body was quivering with blissful anticipation. The rest of the company ceased their amorous play. The tender scenes that were about to be enacted possessed sufficient attraction to enchain their closest attention.
The juggler’s prick was truly a grand sight. The women’s eyes were all riveted upon its noble proportions. “Companions for such I now call you ” said the Empress, “in the presence of such a tool as this we all are equals. Modesty and pride of station fall prostrate before this.”
Speaking thus, she caught hold of Hai-Ka’s penis and led him around by it, going to each woman in turn. They gazed upon it with eager, straining eyes, for most of them already had enjoyed its ripeness and knew its power to please.
The nuns sat on the cushions in twos, each with a man between them. One nun possessed the prick, the other laid claim to the balls. For their part, the men buried their fingers in the magnificent slits on both sides of them and toyed with and teased the ardent women.
The Empress reclined on the cushions with her ass high in the air. Her magnificent slit jutted out most prominently, displaying its beauties to the fullest advantage. Before it, as before a shrine, the half-crazed Hai-Ka again knelt in worship.
“Lovely slit!” he cried, “Delightful crevice! Heavenly grotto! I will soon enter thee! I will cause our great mistress to sob and shriek with joy. I will shoot again and again into her innermost recesses the water of life.”
“What a hell of a big cock he must have had!” remarked the old Ned in a low tone.
The narrator paused in his tale, and I ceased its translation. The Lieutenant Harris angrily rebuked his underling. Jatsakura looked from one to the other, and finally his glance settled upon me. As best I could, I explained the meaning of the remark. Jatsakura nodded and smiled broadly at the old Ned, who responded with a grin, a diabolical leer and a knowing wink. Then the tale was resumed.
Hai-Ka continued, winding up his adoration of the Empress’ cunt. “I will open up for his majesty the Emperor a slit that has been closed too long.”
“Yes, yes now!” cried the eager woman aloud.
Meanwhile the Empress kept up the gentle to-and-fro movements of her ass, causing all the other men present to toy vigorously with their partners. The juggler now commenced to play with his eager partner. He teased her clitoris until she worked her ass furiously with delight. Finally she gave an extra-frantic upheaval. Then the spendings could be noticed, flowing out of her excited crevice. One of the nuns acted as handmaiden and softly bathed the exposed parts.
The juggler now kissed the moist slit most greedily. Then he inserted the head of his tool between the oiled lips. It entered easily. He commenced to work his loins fiercely, while she, enjoying it to the full, remained still. He removed his tool and placed it near her mouth. She kissed and fondled it with her lips, then motioned him to replace it.
He returned it to the tightened haunt of love, and again moved his ass with astonishing rapidity. Great Iza! How he fucked her! Cries of “Ah! Ah!” and “He! He!” came from her. Little shrieks followed. Her tongue hung out of her mouth and worked in unison with his tool. She moaned, she cried, for the juggler was fucking her as she had never been fucked before. Her belly sprang forward to meet his. Resounding slaps of skin against skin were heard by all.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she shouted. “Move thy ass quicker, quicker! Thou art slow! Come, move thyself!”
Saying this, she met his shove with a most vigorous thrust of her belly and threw him a full yard back, flat on the floor. Her limbs twisted frantically about. In a second he was back to her devouring slit. Again he entered. Up he went, until nothing was seen of his tool. Then she dug her heels into his back and held him in a viselike embrace.
The onlookers were much affected by this distracting sight. The women, also excited by the fingering, again reached eagerly for the men. Hardly had a slit received a stiffened prick and had two or three shoves from it than the prick was removed and another gaping cunt pushed forward to secure the coveted treasure.
The overjoyed Empress broke the silence. “I am gorged with the supremest delicacy that epicures ever invented!” she cried. “This is a new dish and oh, what appetite I have to enjoy it! No, I will not lose the juggler. Hizer-Zan, the stronghold of Buddha the divine, shall see me whored before its very eyes. Thy gold shall be enough to enrich thee all thy days, Oh, Hai-Ka. Ha! Thou dost answer me with a flew of scalding semen! Amida! Amida! I call upon thee. Please let Hai-Ka maintain his stiffness!”
The juggler had emptied his treasure bags. He withdrew his tool for a moment.
“By Saika!” the Empress cried. “It is as stiff as ever! Buddha has answered my prayer!”
Now commenced the true action of love. The preliminary bout was but an excitant to prolonged pleasure. Oh, how grandly he fucked her, and what a superb return she gave! Her stomach met his at every thrust! He pulled her down from the cushions. Fastened together by his enormous link of pleasure, they jumped a few feet. Again he pushed her down and fucked her with lightning thrusts. He withdrew his mighty prick to its very head, then thrust it back into her greedy receptacle.
Scream upon scream pealed from the lips of the Empress. She sucked his lips. She pressed her fingers into his back convulsively. Then she lowered her rose-red lips onto his shoulder until he in turn loudly cried out. She licked his face, his mouth. Again they rose. He grasped the plump cheeks of her ass and jumped with her high in the air, his prick all the while working inside of her with wonderful muscular action. How he trembled! Nature could not hold back much longer. He placed her ass right between the thighs of one of the most beautiful nuns. She clasped the Empress in close embrace.
Hai-Ka once more moved his ass with astonishing speed. He halted a moment, then shot into the greedy woman a burning stream of molten lava. The Empress, with a profound sigh of satisfaction, fell back. Hai-Ka rolled off her and fell heavily to the floor. He lay there inert, motionless, like a log, his mighty prick dwindled down to flabby nothingness.
Zai-ka-mata rose. She threw herself upon Hai-Ka as he lay there, prostrate. She placed her hand between his thighs and fondled the dwindled monarch that had administered to her pleasures. Then, rapturously, she kissed a thousand times the glorious tool that had made her feel the most exquisite of earthly joys.
The previous Book Bonus, Yoshiwara, was pseudo-Japanese-style Western erotica, which, no matter how much it imitated or incorporated the customs, language and sexual euphemisms of Japan, really did not do justice to the genuine erotic literature of the Nippon Empire, scanty as it might be,
However, a novel entitled Shore Leave is closer to what could be genuine Japanese erotica, if it existed. Shore Leave aka Amorous Adventures of a Japanese Gentleman was published around 1897 in France, possibly by Charles Carrington. Like Yoshiwara, it also presents a great deal of accurate, firsthand knowledge of Japanese society, culture, sexual practices and vocabulary, but with a major difference. Shore Leave had to have been written by someone familiar with authentic Japanese erotica, and also able to translate it into English.
Of the two novels, Shore Leave is much cruder than Yoshiwara. The former does not have the well-honed structure, syntax and lyricism of the latter. Shore Leave is rough and unsophisticated in language and style, and filled with sexual synonyms and behaviors decidedly not Occidental. It reads more like the work of a merchant marine with extensive experience with the seedier side of Japanese life, rather than the creation of a professional journalist or college professor.
Shore Leave begins with an author’s introduction followed by several separate, unrelated short stories, which are almost certainly literal and crude translations of genuine Japanese erotica. Unfortunately the original texts of these Japanese erotic short stories are nearly unreadable as so few people today can still understand the archaic script they were printed in.
Here is an excerpt from the introduction of Shore Leave, as narrated by the Japanese host of three American sailors.
“This coming evening,” I told them, “we will enjoy the beginning of the feast. Three young and charming geishas have been engaged to dance for us and entertain us.”
The old salt, Ned, waxed indignant at my words. “I beg your honor’s pardon, but look at me prick!”
With these words the servant displayed a member whose hardness appeared to be of iron. “What, masters, am Ito do with this?”
“Soft! Soft!” I interposed. “Be not too hasty. You are by no means forgotten. Accompanying the geishas will be a duenna, well practiced in the art of taking things like that stiff tool of yours down to nothing. Have no further fears. You are well provided for. Listen. The geishas are let out by the evening to teahouses or private parties. From early youth they are trained not only in the art of dancing, but also in the art of what you term fucking. A popular geisha commands a good price. She has her time overcrowded with engagements. They are witty, quick at repartee and would tempt the most holy saint that ever fasted. They are no novices. They are all well broken in. By lzu! They fuck like mares in heat. Laugh not when I tell you that at times men of high rank take them for wives.”
“Most noble Daimio,” pleaded Lieutenant Harris. “We tire of lectures. We are nearly wild with desire. Give us action.”
“Yes! Give us action!” cried the others in unison. “When do they come?”
“Tonight, at the Hour of the Cock eight in the evening ,” was my reply.
“A most appropriately named hour,” commented Ensign Budd.
My jashika palace was situated far from prying eyes. We could pursue our pleasures undisturbed. The inkyo suite of rooms is privacy itself. Here the geishas were promptly introduced.
These were the words I spoke:
“I present honorable Americans, Shikibu, the charming Queen of Love, whom it is necessary to engage a year in advance. Next, black-eyed Isero the admired one of Tokyo a score of swains fight constantly for her favors.
“And here I introduce my lovely Seisha the pride of Satsuma whom I ardently long to embrace. I have reserved her in advance for myself.
“Last but not least is the stately Murasuka, whose stateliness will be naught when the prick of old Ned stirs her to the screaming point.”
Lieutenant Harris sprang eagerly to the side of Shikibu, and paid her the most delicate attentions in words translated into Japanese by myself.
“Sweet one!” he cried. “I kiss your hand. How fortunate am I to be entrusted with such a treasure!”
The hot and voluptuous girl gazed at her partner, her eyes swimming with desire.
“You flatter, sir,” she replied.
Then her long black lashes shaded the lovely eyes. The crimson on her cheeks deepened. The ripe, red lips opened and disclosed a pearly treasure within.
Ensign Budd was entranced with the choice I made for him.
“Beautiful Isero!” he exclaims. “I am a lucky dog indeed!”
And then old Ned chimed in.
“This Mur what-you-call-’er- is a nice tidbit. You say she screeches when she fucks? Be Jaysus! Tell her I will make her fat ass crack nutshells before I am through with her, you bet!”
His figure of speech puzzled me.
“Ass crack nutshells?” I repeated. “Pray tell me what the meaning of that is. We have no equivalent for it in our language. Tell me, so that I can translate it to her. See, she is fairly waiting on our words.”
“A good stiff cock will translate it, then,” returned the strange-speaking Ned.
The three geishas retired for a few moments. When they returned, they were wearing their kimonos.
“Oh! What lovely girls!” sighed both Lieutenant Harris and Ensign Budd.
The three stood in front of us and began the dance. From early youth the geishas are taught to dance. They are charming, graceful and lecherous dancers. You would not hesitate a moment to pronounce them as such.
As they swayed their bodies, the kimonos fell open and disclosed their full, round bosoms. The artistic management of the draperies was superb. In a trice they changed their gowns, giving us a single, instant glance at their lovely posteriors.
“What arses!” I shouted.
“Yes! Yes!” eagerly cried the others, “They are splendid!”
Now attired in scarlet and yellow, these dainty bits of womanhood imitate, with supple bodies, the dance of the maple leaves. One raised her leg high in the air. Oh! What a sight! The rounded calf, swelling thigh and hairless, red-lipped slit were all shown to us for a second. The entrancing sight made every cock stand erect a stiffened column of flesh hard as ivory, but tremulous with desire.
It was my charming Seisha who thus displayed her treasures so freely.
Shikibu next came forward with a swift motion and threw her kimono over her head. Her naked back, her rounded arse, her well-developed legs and exquisitely molded calves were exposed to our ardent gaze.
“Oh! It’s too beautiful!” cried Lieutenant Harris. “Oh! It’s just magnificent. Oh! If I were only on her now!”
“Oh! My!” sighed old Ned. “What will I do with my cock?”
With this he jumped forward, threw off his breeches and proceeded to dance a sailor’s hornpipe with nothing on but his shirt. His ponderous machine stood out like a rod.
We had no time for him, however, for Shikibu turned as if on a pivot and gave us a front view.
“Oh! What breasts!” cried Ensign Budd.
“Just look at the dear, cunning little slit!” exclaimed Lieutenant Harris.
As for your humble servant, I lost command of myself. When the dainty Isero threw herself on the cushions, naked to her neck, and proceeded to work her arse with a swift motion, Lieutenant Harris later told me that I stripped myself to the skin, and shouted and danced like a mad person.
“Look at his honor’s tool!” shouted old Ned. “Gee, but ain’t it a whopper!”
Even the prim Murasuka herself was affected by the scene. Quickly she threw off her kimono and showed us all her shapely nakedness. She darted forward, seized old Ned by his tool and joined him in his dance, closely mimicking every step that he made. Next Lieutenant Harris and Ensign Budd became as naked as myself.
What a lovely sight now presented itself. The three beautiful geishas had their gowns over their heads and were dancing wildly around the apartment.
I chased after my darling Seisha. Securing her with a firm grasp, I lifted her up in my arms. I bestowed unnumbered kisses on her dainty, pouting slit. Her head hung on my arm. Her rosy tongue was working rapidly in anticipation of the delightful fucking that I was about to give her.
In the meanwhile Lieutenant Harris had cornered his charmer and was vigorously working his finger in Shikibus haunt of delight. She wildly grasped his stiff tool and fairly screamed with joy as she writhed, twisted and plunged under his skillful touchings.
Ensign Budd, I noticed, had placed his head between Isero’s thighs and seemed never to tire of kissing and fondling the gate to her paradise.
How different was old Ned! He was on top of Murasuka, crying, “By God! This is the tightest hole I ever struck! Something’s got to give before I git in! Bah! I’m off! It’s easy now. Work your ass, Mary! Work like hell! How do you like my liver-toucher? Oh! Oh! This is good enough for the Admiral. Oh! You are a fucker from way back.”
As for me, I placed my Seisha with her arse on the pillow. Her red-lined slit was a prominent mark. I teased her with the head of my prick, rubbing her clitoris.
“Ah! This a hanami picnic well worth going to,” I cried, as my prick stretched her slit open.
As I pushed my way onward, the geisha clutched my shoulders. When my prick was in her and my hair reached the lips of her little haven of pleasure, I clasped my hands around her arse my favorite style , and pressed her closer still.
“Ah! This is heaven!” I cried.
As I danced around with my impaled partner, her legs closed tightly around me, clasping me as in a vise. I bumped her plump backside against the back of Lieutenant Harris, who was working his arse like an engine. The weight of our bodies caused him to halt. Gentle heaves now succeed the swifter ones.
I fucked my partner on top of the Lieutenant’s arse. In a moment or so he regained his breath, and with it, apparently, new energy. He recommenced action, timing his motions with mine. The combined action in unison the two couples fucking as one added much to our bliss, and made our partners fairly scream with delight. Then we paused and looked around us.
Ensign Budd was working his prick it’s quite a strong member, by the way , in and out of dainty little Isero’s slit. You could see her cunt fairly sucking it in.
“Oh! Lord! Where did you learn to fuck so fine?” cried the enraptured Ensign Budd.
As he spoke thus, he began to fuck her with wonderful swiftness. His strokes came so thick and fast that my eyes, used as they are to such sights, could scarcely follow, much less keep count of them.
“Oh! What a sight!” I cried loudly.
Then I commenced to work my own arse again. Every shove I gave her increased my ecstasy. We fell off the Lieutenant, leaving him to his own devices. My partner’s shapely legs relaxed, and she fell beneath me, panting and almost motionless. I twined my heavy limbs about my partner’s plump back, and shot my stream of lava into her vitals. Then I pressed my mouth to hers. I sucked it closely, insinuated my tongue and worked it just as old Ned said he had. I was thrilled. Then in my agony of delight, I shot another stream of semen into the quivering girl under me, which made her moan with joy.
“Hurrah!” shouted old Ned. “I have got another hard-on!”
“You waste your words,” I said. “Your partner knows not the meaning of the term hard-on.”
“I will let her feel it, then she’ll know the meaning!” he loudly responded. “There, girlee! Take that! My! My! But she wobbles! Whoa! Girlee! Keep your ass still till I stick it in! Now, git up, girlee! Git up! Wobble your ass! Wobble! Wobble! That’s the style! Oh! That’s good! That’s fine! That takes the biscuit! Look out for me, girlee! I am going to squirt! There I go again! Whoop! Whoop! Bah! I am a dead, busted rooster!”
She squirmed and twisted with amorous satisfaction as he rolled off her, and lay there, quivering and panting. The old salt Ned had given her a realization of some of her daydreams.
We were all halted now. Nature was, for a time, satisfied.
“To the pool!” I cried a short time after the agony of delight had expired.
Speaking thus, I led the way to the bathing salon. This was a long room, containing a pool of water twenty feet long by ten feet wide. A glass-covered roof enclosed the room. Innumerable lanterns made this place as bright as day.
In a trice, eight naked forms were immersed in the tepid water. The Japanese, I would have you understand, are the greatest bathers in the world. We are forever bathing. For that reason, we are the healthiest among nations. Soon the geishas were as sportive as naiads, floating on their backs, displaying their pouting slits, which looked as fresh as if they belonged to virgins. Not the slightest evidence of their ever having been parted by stiff pricks could be noticed. I had thought that my goodly tool would have made its mark upon Seisha’s portals of heavenly bliss, but they looked as fresh and tempting as those of a maiden.
But not so, however, with Murasuka. Her slit was slightly open, as though it were gaping for air, and displayed the red lining within. Old Ned had trounced it well with his mighty tool.
What sport it was for us! How the merry, laughing sprites fled from one end of the pool to the other! They swam and dove like so many ducks. One moment the hand would grasp a plump thigh. The next second it had slipped away.
The old Ned puffed and blowed like a big porpoise.
“These here cunt-pieces is as slippery as eels,” he commented.
Lieutenant Harris and Ensign Budd were excellent swimmers. The geishas, however, were their superiors.
“I would like to try one of them spring chicken ones!” cried old Ned, attempting to seize a fairy-like form as she passed.
The geishas laughingly shook their heads in derision, if not denial.
“It seems, Ned,” shouted out Ensign Budd, “as though you were never satisfied with your partner. Murasuka will be jealous.”
“Oh! She’s fine! I was only fooling,” returned the old salt. “Anyhow, my prick’s better than the Daimio’s, for he has dots on his.”
I could not control my anger any longer. “Ungrateful dog that you are!” I exclaimed. “Know you that what you call dots is not disease. These are what you term “warts” in your language. They are soft excrescences, and all the males in our family for generations have possessed them.”
“Born with warts on their cocks? Well! Well! That’s funny!” he observed. “I never heard tell of such a thing.”
Lieutenant Harris now intervened. He cautioned old Ned against such freedom of language and apologized to me for his underling’s impolite words.
“I will pipe down,” observed old Ned, seating himself on the edge of the stool. “I axes the Daimio’s pardon for forgetting meself.”
Although I knew not what he meant by “pipe down,” I granted him full pardon, and did him the honor of shaking hands to show that my anger was now mollified.
When tired of our water sport, we repaired to a table crowded with delicacies such as we of the Japanese nobility alone know how to purchase. Champagne took the place of sake, and our spirits became greatly heightened by the nectar that we drank. We sat naked at the feast, and at its conclusion gave away to the sexual desires within us.
The sweet angel Isero placed both of her little feet on the table. After the remains of the feast were removed, she sprang upon the table and filled us with inexpressible delight by dancing in the most lascivious manner.
The other two joined her, and we lolled amorously backward to enjoy the enchanting scene. Seisha and Isero then ardently embraced one another. They placed their fingers in one another’s slits and danced around, working vigorously as they went. This evidently caused them the most exquisite sensations. Their eyes were turned upward in ecstatic pleasure. Then their arses worked furiously. Quicker and quicker went their fingers. They moved their bottoms slowly but vigorously. You could see their bellies slap together. Next they glued themselves to each other. Soon their spendings were slowly trickling down their legs.
“Now is the time, boys!” I shouted. “They would take anything that would fuck. They are hot with desire! They are wild with lechery. They want to be fucked bad. The harder you give it to them, the better they’ll like it.”
I had no need to say more. Lieutenant Harris lifted the delighted Isero from the table and placed her on a cushion. He could not be quick enough, for she seized his tool and kissed it ravenously. Then he sucked at her lips as though he could feast on them forever. Next she placed his stiffened prick in her devouring slit and worked him between her thighs as she fucked his mouth with her tongue.
“By God! That must be fine!” shouted old Ned.
“Tis the Ensign’s turn!” I cried. “We four will look. Our turn will soon arrive.”
Ensign Budd whirled his partner around the room, kissing, sucking, now down on the floor with arses moving rapidly. Then up they jumped and waltzed around, his fine prick wholly encased in the tight little slit.
When he reached the table, he cried, “A cushion!”
One was thrown to him. He removed his penis, which was still as stiff as ever. He placed his partner facedown, her ripe bosom resting on the cushion. Then he raised her legs between his arms and thrust his prick straight at the splendid mark. Then he withdrew it a bit before thrusting it in to the very full, remaining almost motionless in keen enjoyment.
“Ha! Most noble Daimio!” he shouted, “I cannot spend, yet every second I think I am going to. By Christ! This is better than Heaven! Oh! She gripped me like a vise.”
Old Ned, who was playing furiously with his partner’s slit, cried out at this juncture.
“Look at the lucky dog! He’s got into a bitch and is hitched fast! Throw a bucket of water over them!”
By Iza! I believe the old rascal was right, for the Ensign Budd could not release himself, try as he would.
Lieutenant Harris was still engaged with his partner. Gentle heaves on the part of both told the story of extreme pleasure. Their previous encounter had temporarily exhausted his seminal fluid, thus permitting them to enjoy to the full the greatest of all delights.
Ensign Budd lifted his partner from the table, and laid her among the cushions on the floor. At intervals he would roll over so that she was on top of him. He would raise her to the very top of his prick, then press her arse till the lips of her slit were buried in his hair.
We four lookers-on were now wrought up to the very highest pitch by the entrancing performance of our companions.
I longed to enjoy the charms of Shikibu. I placed her on the cushions and began to work my prick into her clinging slit.
“Oh! How thick!” she cried in Japanese. “Oh! Lovely prick! I feel you all over. Oh! Master, fuck me hard! I want it! I am dying for it! Give me your tongue! I will lick your lips! Permit me, sweet Lord, to kiss your thick tool!”
I took it out of her tight slit. She greedily kissed it, and then mouthed it as though it were some dainty morsel that she was about to swallow. But sucking is something I will not permit. I withdrew it and replaced it in the proper orifice. I pushed it with vigorous thrusts, to which she responded by working her arse from one side to the other, causing us both the most exquisite pleasure.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered, “just let us be still a few moments. Then carry me around the room and push my arse against the wall. Dear, dear Lord! I want to kiss your thick thing. Oh! It feels so splendid! There! Fuck my tongue. I will suck your lips! Dear, dear Lord! I come again! Don’t you feel it all over your thing? Now let us both work our arses together.”
And work I did, too. I gave it to her with rapid thrusts. One moment I would pull out my prick and place it near her mouth. She would kiss it greedily. Then back it would go into the reddened slit.
When I felt that the final crisis was not far away, I carried my lovely Shikibu around the pool. My prick was tightly encased in her salacious slit.
Oh! How can I find words to describe the state of my feelings? I would push the plump arse against the wall, then run forward a few yards. In my mad flight, I saw no obstruction until I fell helter-skelter over old Ned, who was giving the finishing touches to his final screw.
I rolled off them, and then being in a good position, gave my partner a good load of semen. Not satisfied with this, I held on. I convulsively moved myarse and gave her another good squirt.
This was to be my final effort. My tool fell out of her, and the overjoyed girl rolled on the floor, her feet rising up and down rapidly. Next her arse, trembling with pleasure, moved quickly from side to side. Then up would come the sweet little slit, as if eagerly seeking a new prick to gratify its greedy mouth.
This fine sight exercised an instant magnetic influence. My prick became hardened in a single second to the rigidity of iron. Like a vulture I descend-ed upon the red-lined beauty before me. I kissed it greedily for a few minutes. Then I placed the head of my tool between the cunning lips.
I heard her whisper sweet nothings. She had lost command of herself.
“Dear Lord! Your thing tickles me! Oh! It tickles me so splendid! Oh! It’s just too heavenly! Just let us be still a while. I feel your dear thing way in me! Now work, and I will work tool Dear Lord! Push away! Now give it me! Hard as you can! We will both work together! That’s the way!” she fondly shrieked.
“I am not done! I will not squirt more for a while, by Smika! I will hold this back! I want to keep this up forever!” Then I added loudly, “Everybody fuck! Fuck like men who haven’t had a woman for a year!”
“See here, old boy,” old Ned answered. “I can’t fuck any harder. This here cunt-piece has nearly broke me back! She’ll have me fucked out soon. Then I’ll have to quit. Hold your horses, Daisy! Hold your horses! Ouch! Me God! I’ve squirted!”
Now I began to push. The path of pleasure yielded inch by inch. Then I worked my arse fiercely. When my prick was in her to the full, when my bag of cream slapped against her gates of pleasure, something within her seemed to twine itself about the head of my badge of manhood. I thrust thrust Oh! what exquisite delight! I inserted my tongue between her willing lips, and dropped into a rapturous slumber, dreaming of paradise.
How long I remained thus I know not. Suddenly, without the slightest motion, I felt myself coming. I squirted a continuous stream into her. This was truly my last effort.
“See! The Daimio’s pumped out at last!” I heard Lieutenant Harris say. His voice came to me like a voice in a dream. “Come, boys, let’s go to bed.”
And old Ned added: “Oh! What a sick-looking cock I’ve got. Just look at him, masters! He’s been on a drunk and is all broke up! Good Lord! But can’t these Japs fuck?”