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

When I arrived at the age of sixteen I was still a slender stripling, but, having an intrigue with a lady's maid, I fancied myself quite a man of the world. One evening I attended the theatre with several other young noblemen.

The character of Cleopatra was splendidly sustained by an actress of Irish birth whom I will call Charlotte. She was of colossal size, but of perfect proportions. The dark complexion of her lovely face made her a good representation of the Egyptian queen, whose voluptuous person and amorous nature she delineated so finely that every man in the house was carried away; yet this magnificent woman was nearly fifty. Her powerful constitution had triumphed over time.

After the play was over we went into the green room and I was introduced to her. The charm of her person and form lost nothing on a near approach, though I detected one or two silver threads in her glossy hair. Her eyes had the brilliant sparkle of youth, her lips were plump and red and her teeth were as white as pearls. As soon as she heard my name she manifested deep interest; a tender light came into her eyes and the colour heightened in her cheeks as she began to talk of my father.

Now I had heard of the trouble my father gave his friends in his youth by his infatuation for an actress. I could no longer doubt that she stood before me. Charlotte's name was free from scandal — remarkably so for an actress. Perhaps her liaison with my father had been her only folly.

'Do give a little supper party after the theatre which will meet in my room,' she asked me.

I promised to do so, and accordingly met there a few actors and patrons of the theatre. We had a modest supper where wit, not wine, reigned. I sat next to Charlotte who seemed hardly able to take her eyes off me.

When the guests rose to go, I lingered at the door, and they went without noticing that I remained. The impulse was mutual to clasp each other in our arms.

'Oh, how I wish that you had been my son! It ought to have been so.'

I was in no mood to be made a baby of. The grand voluptuous form of the queenly actress aroused far other emotions when it was folded to mine.

'Is this your bedroom?' said I, drawing her towards the door.

'For shame, Georgie,' she said, as a crimson blush spread from her cheeks to her splendid bosoms. She was in the costume of Cleopatra, over which she had thrown a long mantle after the play. This mantle had fallen off. It was evident that she had intended no assignation for she moved reluctantly to the door — but she returned the passionate kiss I planted full on her mouth. So commanding was her height that she had to stoop slightly to do it.

As soon as we entered the bedroom she sat down on the bed and covered her face with her hands. I took the opportunity to divest myself of most of my clothes and then I stole up to her and kissed her naked and massive shoulder. She rose to her feet and, taking me in her strong arms as if I were an infant, she walked back and forth across the room with me.

'Oh! Georgie, Georgie,' she cried. 'This is almost incest, but I can deny you nothing — I, who have allowed no man to embrace me since those delicious days of long ago.'

She still carried me in her arms, walking to and fro. My face was in contact with her great bosoms, each of which was as large as my head. As I passionately kissed them, my right hand dropped to her thighs, from which it parted the loose oriental drapery and found in it a shaggy mass of curls. Searching to the bottom of these it found a pair of moist, warm lips. I lifted my face from her bosom to meet hers and we exchanged a kiss. It differed from those she had heretofore given me. It was as voluptuous as my own and was prolonged until I felt her other lips, which my hand was searching, begin to swell and grow hot.

Charlotte carried me rapidly to the bed. Her mood was changed from maternal tenderness to fiery passion. She laid me upon my back and sprang upon me. She folded me in her great muscular arms; her ponderous thighs settled on my own. Immense as they were, they were as a young girl's. It was her hand which guided my rigid shaft amid the thick profusion of hair till it was fairly entered and rammed to the hilt by the vibration of her powerful loins. So firmly was I pinned to the bed by her great weight that I could not move. I felt as if I were about to be ravished like a woman. It was a novel sensation and charming as it was novel.

Charlotte suddenly turned over on her back without relaxing her hold in the least upon me. I found myself on top of her, but she was still master of the situation. Her arms and legs were wrapped so tight around me that my bones fairly cracked. It was the rapid undulation of her loins alone that moved our closely joined forms. Her mouth was fastened on mine as if she was about to devour me; her big womb pressed against my crest.

I felt the crisis coming overwhelmingly in the powerful embrace in which I was held. At this moment her muscles began to relax with her profuse melting shower. I spent, not with a stinted jet, but with profuse gushes that made a suitable tribute to the magnetism of her massive beauty. The rapture lasted me some time, even after I became nerveless, and at length died imperceptibly away.

'Now, you must go, you naughty boy,' said Charlotte tenderly, kissing and spanking me. 'In ten minutes more my maid will come to undress me.'

I was scarcely able to rise from her arms after such a long and exhausting orgasm. I was like a squeezed and sucked orange; my vigour was all gone. It was fortunate that my ship was to sail the next day — I was a midshipman under my first orders and I had to go. If the intrigue had been pursued it would have ruined her reputation and my health.

'And now, Captain, tell us another,' was the persistent petition of all the ladies, and I complied.