Chương 2: The Awakening of Desire
Thus, about a month passed. Every night, Miss Rozy became more and more at ease and confident of my mere childishness. She often gave me glorious and lengthened glimpses of her beautifully developed charms, although it was only about every other night that I could enjoy them, for, as they always produced sleeplessness afterwards, the following night nature assured her rights, and I usually slept profoundly when I would have preferred to continue gazing at the charms of my lovely governess. But, doubtless, those exhausting sleeps helped to throw her off her guard and gave me better opportunities than I should otherwise have had. Once or twice she used the nightware before putting on her nightgown, and I could see the rosy-lipped opening embosomed in exquisite dark curls, pouring out its full measure of water, showing a fine force of nature and driving me wild with excitement. Yet it is so singular that I never once thought of applying it to my fingers for relief from the painful stiffness that nearly burst my prick asunder.
Whether Mamma had observed my very frequent projection of my trousers or began to think it better that I should not sleep in the same room as Miss Rozy, I cannot say, but she had my bed removed into her own. However, I was so thoroughly treated as a mere boy by everyone in the house that Miss Rozy seemed to forget my sex, and there was at all times a freedom of carriage and an abandon in her attitudes that she certainly would not have indulged in if she had felt any restraint from considering herself in the presence of a youth of the age of puberty.
In cold weather, I used to sit on a low stool by the fire—Miss Rozy was seated in front, I had my lesson book on my knee, and she herself would place her beautiful feet on the high school fender, with her work in her lap, while she heard my sisters repeat their lesson, totally unconscious that for half an hour at a time she was exposing her beautiful legs and thighs to my ardent gaze; for sitting much below her and bending my head as if intent on my lesson, my eyes were below her raised gown. Her close and tight-fitting white stockings displayed her well-formed legs, for while confined to the house during our morning lessons she did not wear drawers, so that in the position she sat in, with her knees higher than her feet on the already high fender and her legs somewhat apart to hold her work in her lap more easily, the whole glorious underswell of both thighs and the lower part of her fine large bottom, with the pinky slit quite visible, nestled in a rich profusion of dark curls, were fully exposed to my view. The light from the fire glancing under her raised petticoats tinged the whole thing with a glow and set me equally in a blaze of desire until I was almost ready to faint. I could have rushed headlong under her gown and kissed and fondled that delicious opening and all its surroundings. Oh, how little she thought of the passion she was raising. Oh! dear Miss Rozy, how I did love you from the dainty kid slipper and tight glossy silk stocking, up to the glorious swell of the beautiful bubbies that were so fully exposed to me nearly every night, and the lovely lips of all that I longed to lovingly embrace.
Thus day after day passed away, and Miss Rozy became to me a goddess, a creature whom, in my heart of hearts, I literally worshiped. When she left the study room and I was alone, I kissed that part of the fender her feet had pressed, the seat on which she sat, and even the air an inch above, my imagination placing there her lovely cunt. I craved for something beyond this without knowing exactly what I wanted, for, as yet, I really was utterly ignorant of anything appertaining to the conjunction of the sexes.
One day I had gone up to my sisters' bedroom, where the governess slept, thinking that I might throw myself on her bed and, in my imagination, embrace her beautiful body. I heard someone approaching, and knowing that I had no business there, I hid myself under the bed. The next moment, Miss Rozy herself entered and locked the door. It was about an hour before dinner. Taking off her dress and hanging it on the wardrobe, she drew out a piece of furniture that had been bought for her, the use of which had often puzzled me; she took off the lid, poured water into its basin, and placed a sponge near it. She then took off her gown, drew her gown and chemise up to her waist and fastened them there, straddled across it, and seated herself upon it.
I thus had the intoxicating delight of gazing on all her beautiful charms, for when she tucked up her clothes, she stood before her glass, presenting to my devouring glance her glorious white bottom in all its fullness. Turning to approach the bidet, she equally exposed her lower belly and beautiful mount, with all its wealth of hair. While straddling over the bidet before she sat down, the whole of her pinky-lipped cunt broke into my enraptured sight. I will never forget the wild excitement of the moment.
It was almost too much for my excited senses; fortunately, when seated, the immediate cause of my almost madness vanished. She sponged herself well between the thighs for about five minutes. She then raised herself off the bidet and for a moment again displayed the pouting lips of her quint, then stood fronting me for two or three minutes while she removed, with the rinsed sponge, the trickling drops of water that still gathered on the rich bush of curls around her quint. Thus her belly, mount, and thighs, whose massy-fleshed and most voluptuous shape were more fully seen by me than they had heretofore been, may easily be conceived into what a state such a deliberate view threw me.
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