A Night in a Moorish Harem/The Portuguese Lady's Story

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A Night in a Moorish Harem
The Portuguese Lady's Story

My father was an English wine merchant in Lisbon and my mother was a Portuguese lady. I was the only child, but there was a little boy named Diego, two years older than myself, who came to reside with us. I subsequently found that he was the fruit of my father's amours before his marriage, but as Diego's mother was dead, my mother naturally let him have a home with us. Diego and I were the best of friends; among other amusements a favourite play with us was getting married. Diego knew enough to play this when no one was by, and always finished by getting on me. His organ could hardly get stiff enough to penetrate me, but he must have gradually obliterated all trace of a maidenhead, for I cannot remember ever having one. There was no consummation in our connections, neither of us was ripe enough for that, but there was a charm about it which made us keep it up at intervals for a year or two. One evening Diego proposed, and I agreed, that we should postpone being together after our little ceremony of marriage until we went to bed. This occurred the day after I had first noticed the appearance of the marks of my first monthly period on my skin. Our rooms were joining and after I had got nearly asleep that night, for I had forgotten all about it, Diego came in. He crept into bed and getting on top of me inserted his organ as usual. Being both undressed it seemed much nicer than ever before, and we both explored each other's naked forms with our hands, my bosoms for the first time attracting Diego's attention; they were quite little, but it gave me as much pleasure to have them fondled and kissed as it seemed to give him to do it, for the Portuguese blood matures young. Our lips now met with more fervour than ever before, and I began to have a feeling in my sheath. Diego's little shaft being in so still did not satisfy, and I gave a push upwards with my loins. He returned it with a thrust which felt pleasant. He kept thrusting incessantly for many minutes, and all the time it felt more delightful, yet I longed for the thrusts to become more deep and rapid. 'Isn't it splendid,’ I whispered, ‘do it harder.' 'It's perfectly splendid,’ he answered, in a voice rendered almost inarticulate by rapture. For two or three minutes we kept up the rapid motion and I felt Diego's shaft growing stiffer than ever before. The delight he afforded me was so exquisite that I culminated in a long, sweet, refreshing thrill. Diego must have melted at the same moment and paid the first tribute of his scanty drops. We both fairly whined with the excitement and delight of our unexpected success. The noise brought my mother to the room. She caught us lying exhausted in each other's arms. She took off her slipper and scourged Diego back into his room. Then she turned down the bedclothes and spanked my bottom thoroughly, and, having locked the door between my room and his, left me to my tumultuous reflections. The next morning Diego was sent to Brazil. My parents at once began to look around for a suitable match for me, fearing, doubtless, that I might seek another opportunity to gratify my precocious passions. They fixed upon a young nobleman who was attracted by my father's wealth and promised him my hand. He was rather dissipated, but so were all the young men of family in Lisbon. He was quite good looking, and, though I had seen him but a few times, I looked forward to the marriage night with pleasure, for I longed for such another delightful experience as I had had with Diego. At length the bridal evening came. The ceremony was completed in the presence of many guests and was followed by dancing and the popping of champagne corks to a late hour. When the bridesmaids put me to bed I did not have to wait long for my husband. He came in somewhat under the influence of wine, hurriedly took off his clothes and hardly waited to kiss and embrace me before he exercised his marital rites. I was penetrated by a little object not as big as Diego's. Before I recovered from my surprise and disappointment he had completed his purpose and sank down beside me to sleep. I shed bitter tears of chagrin. Several times every night for two or three weeks the same strange connection took place, differing only in that he was not every time immediately overcome with wine and sleep. Only once during that time did my constantly aroused and disappointed passions succeed in culminating quickly enough for me to melt, and that only partially. I dared not question him, for that would betray the experience I had had. One night I purposely left the lamp burning and waited for him to get off into a sound sleep. Then I turned the bedclothes down and examined his organ. It was a mere scarred remnant which had evidently been eaten away by disease. It was incapable from weakness of any excitement. No wonder it was constantly subjected to the torture of his disappointed desire! After this I shunned him as much as possible, finding no solace in his company and constantly tormented with desire. ‘Oh, for an entire man,’ I sighed! He took himself nearly every night to the gaming table. Early one evening he went off as usual. I retired to my bedroom and sat looking out through the window blind. Our house, like most others in Lisbon, was built in a quadrangle, the rear of which was the stable. If I sat on one side of the window I could only see one side of the stable wall, and I could only be seen from it. There was only one window in it, which served for Pedro the coachman, and he was rarely in his room. It was the fashion at that time in Lisbon to have large fine-looking Negroes for coachmen, who were admitted to many privileges, for there is no prejudice against colour in Portugal. Pedro was the most gigantic coachman in the city; indeed he was the largest wellproportioned man I had ever seen in my life.


As I looked out through the blind I indistinctly saw him gazing towards my window. I at once determined to have some sport. Standing before the glass beside the window I lighted the lamp as if unconscious of observation—indeed I could not have been seen from any other quarter except Pedro's window, and that was small and higher than mine. I threw open the blind as if for air and began slowly to undress. Then I stood in my chemise and petticoat lazily brushing my hair before the glass, which displayed my naked arms and bosoms to good advantage. Then I sat down to take off my shoes and lifted my foot to my knee for convenience in untying. My hidden observer must have seen under my petticoat up to my loins, and perhaps indeed an inch inside of them, for my legs were stretched very wide apart. I grew wanton with the thought of the influence I made by this time on his passions. If his desires were not thoroughly aroused it was no fault of mine. I stood before the glass again and let my petticoat and chemise fall to the floor, but delayed putting on my nightgown. I yawned and fondled my breasts with my hands as a woman does, giving as I did so an undulating motion to my loins. Soon I heard a soft and heavy tread coming from the coach room stairs towards my door. I might have locked it but I did not. Was this not just what I had been praying for? The door opened and Pedro entered. I held up my nightgown before my naked form. 'If I am too bold,’ he said, in great agitation, ‘bid me go and I will cast myself in the Tagus.’ He need not have been half so tragic. 'Pedro,’ said I, ‘have you no more politeness than to keep your clothes on when a lady's undressed?' His anxious countenance relaxed at once into a reassured smile. He gallantly kissed my hand—my lips he did not presume to kiss at all— and then undressed himself without stopping till his Herculean form stood entirely naked before me in all its gigantic but complete proportions. His immense shaft was proudly erect and huge even for such a giant. Pendant from it hung stones which seemed to my somewhat startled eyes as large as a coconut. He lifted me without an effort till my bosoms were opposite his mouth, into which he almost entirely sucked one of them. My legs wound themselves around his waist and I found myself sitting on the crest of his great stiff shaft, which was so directly underneath the lips of my sheath that it slowly entered them. At last I was penetrated by an organ which I could hardly accommodate; the effort to do so, however, was attended with the extremest pleasure. I relaxed my legs and suffered myself to settle down with all my weight upon it till I thought his whole shaft must have entered. Then I looked in the mirror before which we were standing. At least half his great shaft was plainly visible below my buttocks. He appeared like a great statue of ebony bearing at his bosom one of ivory. I worked my loins, and I could see plainly by the mirror that his shaft was now further entered by the motion, but I had so much of it in me that I was progressing rapidly to a blissful consummation. At this moment he laid me upon my back on the bed without losing our connection and, bracing his feet upon the footboard, gave an irresistible plunge. It seemed to ram my womb clear under my bosoms. My whole body seemed only a sheath quivering with lascivious gratification. I bore without flinching two more such plunges and then came the overwhelming thrill. In the midst of it I felt the gushing sperm spurting like a fountain in my belly. We subsided simultaneously with a long-drawn breath and Pedro at once considerately relieved me of his great weight. Twice more before he left I was spurred on by desire to court the brunt of his tremendous onset; then I made him go. I was completely gorged and sated. Three days afterwards we had to fly together to escape the imminent discovery threatened by my maid. We safely reached the African coast.

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When the pretty little Portuguese finished her story I exchanged kisses with her and with her companion on the other side of me. My crest was rising, but another story would give it time to be fully ready. 'My friend's name is Myrzella and she is a Persian,’ said Virginia, receiving another kiss for her information. Myrzella of course was kissed when she was thus named. She was younger than Virginia. The pink slit between her thighs was set off by the faintest trace of hair; it looked like a delicate sea-shell. She was quite plump. Her thighs were nearly twice the size of Virginia's. Her bosoms were developed as much as those of a northern girl several years later in life. Her hair was black and glossy as a raven's wing; it descended in two large braids to the calves of her legs when she stood erect. Her eyes were as black as her hair, large and sparkling, but full of tenderness. Her cheeks had little colour, except under emotion, but her lips were crimson red.