Message-ID: <10638eli$9804251157@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: KinderGentler@hotmail.com (KinderGentler) Subject: Excerpt from old French novel Débauchées Précoces (Precocious Wantons) (Mg, pedo, cons) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <6hrcgm$18a$2@newshost.cyberramp.net> A very unusual French novel, Débauchées Précoces (Precocious Wantons), dating from the turn of the century, deals with the adventures of a most seductive and experienced nymphet, Agatha. An orphan, Agatha has been living with her uncle who is responsible for having introduced her to a variety of sexual activities, short of coitus. At one point, a friend of the uncle, a man named Célestin, takes the girl to Paris where she is to attend a boarding school. What was going through Célestin’s mind? He wouldn’t have been able to say. This child astride his knees aroused his sensual appetite. He was getting a bigger and bigger erection, wondering if he wasn’t going to rush her to appease the furious passion that had taken hold of him. The decision was his alone to make! Nobody would intervene. At that time train compartments had not yet been fitted out with protective glass panels designed to impose good behavior upon the amateurs of railroad lechery. One of his arms had slipped around Agatha’s waist. She smiled at him and suddenly, childlike, she pinched his chin and exclaimed, “You look at me just the way my uncle does!” This exclamation restored his composure; he released slightly his tight grasp on her and replied, “But my eyes aren’t the same as your uncle’s.” “No, not at all! Yours are black and his are blue. But they both have the same expression. Isn’t that funny?” She put her hand on the one he had on her waist, and he said, “What’s so funny?” “Oh, I don’t know. It’s not up to me to explain!” She shook her head in the manner of a level-headed adult expecting to be understood, and he went on: “And if I kissed you, my little friend, would you explain to me what you find so funny about my eyes!” “Kiss me. We’ll find out.” She leaned against his chest. He kissed her on the forehead. She didn’t move. He lowered the kiss to her nose. She closed her eyes. His lips reached hers. She opened her eyes and said: “Oh! You think just the way my uncle does!” She got down from his knees and he let her go. He felt his ears turning red and began to be frightened by the adventure he could see coming. As they continue the journey, Célestin asks the girl: “Would you like to play house and be my little baby?” Play house! He breathed in the odor of the girl’s young flesh. A mutual warmth enveloped them. He said, “Do you play house with your Uncle?” “Sometimes.” His head moved up to lean against Agatha’s chest. She let it rest there. She felt she was inured to it. She felt his head next to her shoulders, next to her face. She patted his cheeks with her hands. When Célestin’s fingers, having opened her drawers, touched her flesh, she quite naturally spread open her thighs, and she closed her eyes when very gently he tickled her button. This forty-odd-year-old man, up until this moment master of his passions, was being overpowered by rapture. He had always loved women and he had not lacked occasions to satisfy his desires. He had traveled to the four corners of the earth, availing himself of pleasures like a man whose fortune afforded him every conceivable folly. He could practically consider himself blasé. And yet this gamine, this precocious débauchée infused an unknown effervescence into his veins. His barely closed hand was placed between her thighs and gave the child a feeling of sweet agitation which reflected onto him and excited him to lecheries never before dreamed of. A bit of down attracted his fingers to her abdomen. He suspected he was living one of those unforgettable moments when destiny, stopping its evolution, gives a human being access to ecstasies which blot out everything he had ever experienced before. He drank in the little girl’s abandon as one drinks a glass of excellent wine which acts on the stomach and the mind with penetrating warmth, which prompts one to find everything perfect, everything beautiful. Agatha, in order to facilitate his task, had placed one foot on the seat and put an arm around his neck, bringing him closer to her. They seemed to have conquered eternity in that silent and voluptuous caress of the masculine hand on the feminine jewel aspiring to rise up from limbo. A brusque impulse made him pinch the flesh he was fondling. Agatha’s first reaction was to bring her legs together, then, before he could stop her, she threw them forward and was standing straight up, saying. “Oh, such a naughty one! ” Blood was throbbing in his temples. He was within an inch of jumping the girl, and raping her. The sound of the neighboring compartment’s door being shut brought him back to his senses. “What is it? ” he asked her. Agatha had peeked out the door after her exclamation to investigate. She replied, “An employee.” And true enough, a few seconds later their door opened and the conductor came in asking for tickets. He didn’t notice anything suspect about the little girl standing up, looking out the window at the passing countryside; or about the man reading his newspaper. Solitude once again surrounded the two travelers. She had gone to sit in another corner and, acting childishly for the moment, was making faces at Célestin, while peeling an orange. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “What a stupid thing to ask! Just because I’m peeling an orange? No, Monsieur, I am a glutton and I love this fruit.” “A glutton for fruit!” He put down his newspaper and came nearer, in order to look at her more closely without disturbing her most important occupation. She had the face and attitude of a woman who had stopped growing up, but her features revealed a child, a child who was no longer innocent and who studiously sought to encourage vice. Her lips took on the expression of mockery and wheedling, one following the other in quick succession; her nostrils were dilated as when at the approach of a desire that was sure to attain satisfaction; and her eyes, oh, her eyes, playing under her lashes made her entire face a poem. Brutal instincts tormented Célestin. He felt himself flooded by an extraordinary fluid which drew him like a magnet to this child’s body! . . . She was once again seated next to him, offering him her hand that he was caressing in his own. She sweetly obeyed his pressure, bringing her to his shoulder. She didn’t pull away her hand when he put it on his trousers, next to the buttons, which he undid once again. She slipped her hand under his shirt without having to lift it as a few minutes before. Then she herself took his prick and held it a few seconds in her hand. She leaned over to see the virile member and doing so presented to him her blonde, tawny hair, which he kissed. She rewarded this kiss with a tender pressure of her hand on his prick, then she lifted up his shirt as he had done before and pressed her face to his belly, making him think that she was going to suck him. She didn’t do anything of the sort. She moved as little as he had when he was leaning on her chest. Her hand hadn’t let go of his prick, and her eves were studying it, exploring his manhood. He respected her immobility, so as not to scare her away, for he knew this was still the best means to obtain what he wanted. . . . With this young, feminine body pressed against him, Célestin, breaking with his habitual ways, let himself be guided by his impressions. To his great astonishment, his mind was receiving more pleasure than his body was. Not that his body wasn’t participating in the celebration, far from that, but because it remained confined to its role of the living affirmation of a desire on its way to material fulfillment. The little girl’s head, flattened against the man’s belly, dug through the muscles into the male body’s whole structure; this structure culminating in the cock. The latter was completely erect, enraptured by the hand holding it, seeming to read the woman’s ardor in the eyes beholding it and quivering from the intellectual communion taking place between the two beings. Gradually Agatha’s head drew nearer and she placed a kiss on the extremity of the prick. The electric spark shook both of them. She straightened up to put her arms around his neck and kiss him. He drew her to him, she gave in to his pressure and found herself astride his knees, with his prick, all warm and vibrating, between her thighs. What was going to happen? He was already bending her, her young thighs pressed against the glans of the prick were already submitting to its domineering will, and the pussy did not refuse the attack threatening it. Célestin wrenched himself free of the madness which was numbing his reason, lifted her off his knees and said, “Let’s be sure that nothing betrays us. Take off your drawers, little one.” Slightly dazed, she hastened to obey without further ado. Being the precocious little girl she was, once her drawers were off she folded and rolled them neatly and put them in a traveling bag. This simple action brought a relative calm to the compartment and on the pretext of finding out if the conductor were coming back, he buttoned himself up and went to examine the situation from the door. She came up behind him, took his hand, kissed it and said; “We’re like old friends. You don’t have to call me Mademoiselle any more. Let’s use first names, Célestin.” Feeling like joking with her, he turned around, knelt down and putting his arms around her replied, “You are as pretty as the most beautiful flowers of creation, my darling little Agatha, I must declare my love for you. Don’t make fun of me, my dear Célestin. I am not an animal. You’re happy to paw me and I am just as happy to do the same to you.” On his knees, he had burrowed his hands underneath her skirts and was fondling her buttocks. “Oh, Mademoiselle!” he exclaimed, “what lovely curves you have here!” “Curves? Oh, yes, my uncle adores my fanny.” “Does he, now? And just how did your uncle come to see it?” “You’re too curious! I let you do what he does, you shouldn’t complain.” “Oh, the nasty little thing! She knows how to swing her fanny when she’s kissed!” She began to laugh and answered: “You don’t have to be kissed in order to move it around. Besides, when girls are alone, they teach each other things.” Pulled by Célestin, she got back on his knees. “Little woman, little woman,” he said, “you are truly a little woman.” “You’re right, let’s have some fun; that will dispel sad thoughts.” He sought her lips, she offered them to him; a long caress shook them both to the marrow of their bones, making them cling to one another. “Célestin, what would you like to do for fun?” she murmured. “Oh, anything and everything!” She laughed, her lips against his mouth, and replied: “So would I.” “How does your uncle have fun?” “He puts me completely naked on his knees—he’s completely naked too. But we can’t do that on the train.” “Come here, the way you were before.” “Astride you like this?” “That’s right.” She was there in a trice and immediately felt Célestin’s cock tickling her thighs. She pressed herself against his chest and his prick slid up the crack of her ass. But this time Célestin’s excitement was so great that he kept her crushed in his arms, moving underneath her to masturbate himself by rubbing against her flesh. She was no doubt accustomed to this, for she herself executed the maneuver and all at once he ejaculated, spattering her up to the navel. Acting as a woman who knew the value of such things, she let him finish, her head hidden in Célestin’s shoulder, no longer moving in order not to disturb him. When he had stopped coming, she lifted up her eyes, damp with pleasure, and said to him, “Oh, the shot was fired! Give me your hanky so I can wipe myself off.” “In a minute.” “Wait, let me lift up my chemise. You wet me so high.” He didn’t prevent her from taking this precaution. For several seconds he savored his strange happiness. Then he gave her his handkerchief, she straightened up and he watched her clean herself with consummate skill, wiping off the slightest drops of sperm which might possibly get her into trouble. Once dried off, she opened her traveling bag and took out a bottle of Lubin, poured a few drops on the handkerchief and drenched her parts with it. Then, very gay, she gave it back to him, saying, “Here, have a souvenir from me!” In this little girl, the womanly quality affirmed itself in the knowledge of her individuality. She rebuttoned Célestin’s trousers and added: “I would have thought it would have taken longer!” “But it’s not over with yet! ” he cried. “Oh, yes, it is.” “You wait and see! You wouldn’t mind more.” “More! Are you sure?” “Yes—after the next station.” “Well, nothing would suit me better!” Once arrived in Paris, Célestin decides not to take Agatha directly to the boarding school, but has her live with him first at his hotel. While there, they continue their sexual activities in greater comfort and security, which allows them to experiment with sex techniques that even Agatha’s uncle had not dared to try. “Do you know, my little friend, that between a man and a woman there is more than these caresses, no matter how delicious they may be? ” “Yes. A man takes a woman. My uncle told me that he buried his whatchamacallit into her belly, that that way he deflowered her and could even make a child.” “Look at the sly one! Just this afternoon she pretended not to know that one inserted the whatchamacallit into the hole!” “This afternoon I had forgotten,” she replied calmly. “One also buries it into the asshole! Your Uncle didn’t teach you that?” “No, he must have been afraid of making me suffer.” “Are you afraid?” She left her place on his chest and without getting up from his knees, very seriously demanded: “Listen, do you really want to pierce me?” “Do you want me to?” “I don’t know.” “Would you refuse?” “No. I would never refuse you anything that would please you. But I beg you not to deflower me. I’m too young to have children.” “All right, then give me your asshole.” “You can try, after you’ve caressed it and caressed it.” He carried her like a child over to the bed, lay her down and slid next to her, taking her back into his arms, kissing her, caressing her, fondling her, saying, “You are my wife, we’re married, and I’m going to possess you.” “Oh, yes, I’m your little wife. Possess me.” “Stretch out on your back.” “Like this?” “Yes, yes, now spread your thighs apart.” “You want to try the front now?” “Just be ready, be ready.” When he was on top of her, she seemed like such a little thing, despite the fact that she was quite large for her age, that he felt ashamed and contented himself to skim over her pussy with the tip of his prick. Then he slipped between her thighs and gamahuched her. She abandoned herself ecstatically to his caresses, and he softly said, “You’re too young to be deflowered. We’re going to try your asshole. Turn around.” She obeyed, offered her buttocks to his warm licking. She then felt that he was climbing up her back, covering it with his entire body, and she quivered when his prick touched the middle of her crack, but did not balk. For a moment he didn’t move, so as to quiet her fears, then slowly directed the glans towards the hole. She huddled up into a ball. He tickled her clitoris and seeing that she was affected, he separated the hair covering her slit and with his glans exerted a slight bit of pressure. “Oh, oh,” she said, “do you think that it will go in?” She wasn’t rebelling, and that encouraged him. The head was penetrating, spreading the flesh apart, cracking but not tearing the folds. He replied, “Part of it is already in.” “I feel it. Don’t push too hard. It seems to me that everything is being crushed inside me. Oh, stop a minute, this is becoming really wonderful!” He controlled himself with great difficulty. But he respected this little girl who asserted herself so resolutely as a high priestess of voluptuousness. He only progressed gradually. In spite of that, since his prick swelled as it got to his balls, there came a moment when a rather acute pain forced a muffled cry from Agatha. He stopped still. It was she who reminded him of the work at hand by saying, “The most difficult part is over with, I feel it, you’ve pushed in half of it, don’t hold yourself back any longer.” Nonetheless, he continued to advance with moderation, earning his victory, without the little girl even coming close to fainting. When he had put his entire prick into her asshole he took her hand and said, “You see, there it is.” “Oh, it’s true!” “Now we’ll perform the second half of the operation: to take it out gently so that it won’t hurt you. Then we will start over again, up to the time when it will be wet inside.” “Yes, yes, anything you say.” She felt a few more minor pains but she was completely prepared when the amorous attack took place. She was nicely buggered with ejaculation and all, and was thus possessed by the gentleman to whom her worthy uncle had entrusted her. The tremors satisfied both of them. After the final assault, fatigue finally took hold and she withdrew into her own room to enjoy a rest made necessary by such gambols. When Agatha is finally enrolled and living at the school, she is reunited with a girl friend, Rita, and the two continue their lesbian relationship. Found out by an older girl who is a supervisor, they include her in their affair, making it a threesome. Later on, when Célestin becomes interested in Rita as well, the specter of jealousy beclouds their otherwise idyllic ménage, into which still other people are drawn as time goes on. ================ comments welcome ================ -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |