A Night in a Moorish Harem/The Captain's First Story

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A Night in a Moorish Harem
The Captain's First Story

When I was a boy there was a beautiful girl named Rosamond whose family estate in Yorkshire adjoined our own. Though she was some years older than I, a close but innocent feeling sprang up between us. I was her companion in horseback rides, nutting excursions and country pleasures. This intimacy was kept up till suitors began to appear for her hand, and to one of these she was finally married and went to live in London. Soon after, I was sent away to school. Rosamond, who had now been married some time, kept a standing invitation for me to visit her. Accordingly I stopped at her house one night on my road through London. Her husband was away and we had full leisure to talk over old times. She had now expanded into an elegant woman with a form well developed and was a fine type of blonde, rosy-cheeked, blueeyed English matron. My boyish admiration grew more confirmed than ever. After dinner was over and we were sitting on the sofa together we grew so confidential that she at last unfolded her troubles to me. Her husband, she said, was unfaithful; he had even then left the city so that he might be with another woman. It was probably the first occasion on which she had confided her troubles to anyone. I hardly understood what she meant. I was as green and innocent as it was possible for a country boy to be, but when I saw her tears I knew she was unhappy and I drew her head to my shoulder and kissed her. ‘Do let me console you,’ I said. My meaning was innocent but she took it otherwise, I know, for the crimson mantled over her neck and cheeks. She seemed to come to some sudden determination, for she returned my caresses and kisses again and again. It was bedtime; the servants had retired. Rosamond began slowly to loosen her dress at the neck, as if making what preparations she might downstairs before retiring. I got a glimpse of two plump, white bosoms. Little more was said. We both sat deeply thinking; my thoughts were still innocent. Then she drew up her skirts as ladies sometimes do before retiring and warmed her ankles at the fire. I got a glimpse of two plump calves that were twice as big as when we used to romp through the woods in the country, but I sat profoundly still. 'George,’ she said, at length rising, ‘I feel lonesome tonight and you may sleep with me if you will.' 'If you will not tell on me,’ said I, thinking I was too big a boy to sleep with a woman any more. 'You can trust me for that,’ she replied, and led the way upstairs. I told her I thought I would undress in my own room, which I did and then sheepishly came and got into bed with her. She received me in a close embrace; my frame was clasped in her soft, white arms. Two thicknesses of linen only separated it from her glowing form and our lips met in a long, delicious kiss. Then, for the first time, desire shot through my marrow and I felt my shaft stiffen against her belly. I knew now what she wanted. What a triumph it would be to gratify her and mingle my thin blood with the beautiful woman in my embrace, for such was my ignorant idea of the sexual connection; but to mingle with her, to pour my whole being into her was what nature impetuously demanded of me. I no longer hesitated to lift her chemise and get on top of her. My naked loins sank between her naked thighs; my face was buried in her bosoms. How it got in I do not know, but my shaft was taken in to the hilt with a sensation more sweet than had ever entered my imagination to conceive. I tried to get it in deeper; there was plenty of depth unsounded, but, though she helped me with her clasped arms, it would reach no further. I pushed and pushed with all my might to do something, I knew not what, when Rosamond gave a deep sigh and lay perfectly still. 'Have I hurt you, dear Rosamond?’ I anxiously asked. She burst into a merry laugh. ‘Get off for a while,’ she said, ‘and let us rest.' I did not want to get off at all, but I did so and lay by her side with my moist and rigid shaft squeezed up against her plump thigh. It was half an hour before she would let me get in again. I spent the time in passionately kissing her cheeks, lips and bosoms and exploring all the secrets of her person with my hands. She gave the signal by partially lifting me, and again I sank upon her voluptuous form. My shaft was engulfed at the first thrust, I rapidly plunged it in again and again, now guiding it against one side and then against the other side of her gaping sheath. The heat and the moisture were more delicious than before. I felt something leaving my loins; it jetted from my crest and was lost in the profuse moisture that rose up in Rosamond. I gave a groan of ecstasy which explained to me the deep sighs she again heaved, and then I knew no more. When I became conscious again she was standing over me sprinkling water in my face. 'How you have frightened me,’ she said. ‘You lay so still and you looked so pale.' 'I only want to lie quiet in your arms,’ I said. She folded me tenderly in her arms and I went directly to sleep with my head pillowed on her bosom and my hand between her thighs. We were virtuous next morning. She had plucked the fruit before it was ripe and none had grown in the night to replace it. My shaft would not stiffen at the bidding of her warmest kisses. After breakfast the coach drove up for me and I went off to school. I visited Rosamond's house many times after that but she never again would allow me to take the slightest liberty with her, not even a kiss at meeting or parting. Her husband had reformed and she had no more wrongs to goad her into retaliation.

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'I think,’ said Inez, ‘it was a shame for a married woman to seduce an innocent boy.' 'How nice it must have been,’ said Anna, ‘to take a sweet young fellow's maidenhead.' 'Do tell another story, Captain,’ said Helene. 'Do,’ echoed all the others.