We loved the Olympics, but when we saw PD's team

A time when kidding stops

1962 Prélude

I lost my « virginity » when I was  13 in a boy’s middle school part of a group starting from nursery school to mine, with, in between, the boys and the girls separate primary schools.

The building next to my school, was the girl’s one, were the oldest female pupils, were also the least active in learning, Marion (if I remember well her name) was already 14 with generous shapes that allowed to think she was 2 or 3 years older. If she was not a goddess in study, I learnt she was already a good fucking.

At 13, boys are generaly much more stupid than girls, I did not escaped from that rule, but I was sufficiently lucky when Marion remarked me among the tribe of boys playing the hard guys.

That’s how she told me one day to come to see her at her home after school, her parents coming back three hours later.

That is how I lost my innocence, several times in a row. After the summer vacations, back to study, I found that during summer her family had moved to another city and that I had to return to abstinence.

Abstinence that lasted until my next vacations at the seaside the following year. I had almost forgotten Marion, but not the pleasant feelings I was having with her. Not ashamed at all, I do not remind the names of the two girls, but remembered just what I felt when I slipped in.

Same the following year vacation. If I can say, I was interested by such fractal slits but not absolutely focussed at that time, but in 1965, my concept of the world changed with Laure.

1965 Stop kidding !

High school now, Paris, in the vincinity of Gare Saint-Lazare (St Lazare station Paris IX).

Many commercial zones in the area, department store, de luxe shops, and all the usual surrounding for a station : coffee shops, hotels, restaurants, bars, and hookers in streets nearby.

Just in front of my high school entrance, on the other side of the Rue du Havre, started a narrow street. In the middle, a pub. Full grown up passed PM 8 :00, but high school students territory between AM 12 :00 and PM 6 :00, and at that time beer was not considered as a sin and not as a so destructive alcoholic beverage. Of course the students from my school were clients, but not only. Girls from the « Lycée Racine » (some distance away but not so far) were coming too.

That is where I met, Laure, from the other gender side, in February, one day by PM 4 :30 after teaching hours. I was sipping a beer with two friends of my class, nobody else in the pub, I invited her to join us. Again several times after that, until one day in March, I was alone and her too ; the real flirt started.

We both were in high school diploma year : her in sciences speciality as she wanted to become doctor, me in a mix litterature-mathematics that could lead me to law and economics studies.

(I say it here because several years later, she reappeared because of her medical speciality, mine was less important as, in spite of my university diplomas, I chose to become officer in the army… for a while)

For the time being and for a short while, we exchanged tongues arguments and hands explorations, a week later went together in urgency to the toilet of the pub. She evidently was no more a birdbrained virgin, for sure, when I put my key in her keyhole, it moved swiftly without obstacle.

We repeated such connections three or four times, but one day, a guy from my school had an urgent need while we were expressing ourselves and he made such a fuss that he considered me as a devilish pervert. Laure told me to come at her home on the next Saturday, it will be  quiet.

Living in a Paris suburb, I had to explain to my parents that I was going to review with a friend the whole yearly program for all matters before the end-of-year exams. Not really a lie… but…

The mix Sex and Studies (or the reverse), was quite efficient for both activities and it helped a lot to obtain confidences from the other side. One day, we were relaxing after a « sporty » time (and after a week of pause because of a risky period). Laure explained that she was careful not to have a baby, because it seemed that she was herself conceived by her mother (Isabelle) in such a similar situation when she was 18 years old.

From this point, she moved on and described a night, when she was 6 or 7, waking in the dark, hearing moans coming from her parents bedroom, going to their door, some light was on, she opened and saw her father on her moaning mummy. « Papa ! Stop ! Mama is hurting. » .

Isabelle, within her moans, said « No not hurting… hmmm ! It is so… ahhhh ! Good. »

They did not slowed at all until they reached their top leaving their daughter uncertain.

A quarter hour later, Isabelle, still stark naked, took her to her room, explaining that she saw how she was made, like all other babies.

Interesting, at least for me with parents much more old fashioned. But my surprise increased sharply when Laure goes on about events when she was 13.

In the meantime, Laure whitnessed, from time to time, her parents intimate competitions ; I was no more surprised by her knowledge.

She was still in a telling mode, laying on my chest in my arms.

« Since two years Papa and Mama were going to « social events » once or twice a month, leaving me alone. One day, My mother told me : 

« We’ll have guests here Saturday, I’ll prepare the diner. Hope it’ll be good.

- Guests ? Who ?

- Doctors, medical professors at Paris University. We will have to have professionnal talks after diner. »

I don’t know why, but there was something ringing false in my mother’s words.

On the very Saturday, PM 6 :45 they arrived, a couple in their late thirties ( old in my view). At least they were MD’s like Mama, Papa was remaining in the background, as businessman, he was out of the box but did not seemed worried at all.

PM 9 , the diner was over, it was perfect, I even could taste my father’s Cognac before going officially for the night to my bedroom.

During almost an hour, I could hear muffled voiced from the closed door of the living room. I started to be on alert when the voices exchange faded to be replaced by my so well known mother’s moaning and the other woman’s laugh. I decided to have a look and tiptoed to the kitchen where there was a communication door with the main room.

The door had been left ajar, so I had a good view on the events. Yes, I had seen sex several time before, but it was the first time I saw my parents having intercourse with strangers, and more, my mother received the other man’s sex in her back hole. With some grin, yes, but she had it in.

In a way, I felt more shocked by the other man than by the other hole.»

I did not said anything, I couldn’t.  She went on :

« A week later I had my first period ; my first blood ! I was informed, Isabelle being a gynecologist, but it made me unstable for a while and I talked about the other night.

I was told a lot of things and decided two for my future : I’ll become gynecologist too and be free concerning sex.»

It was now evident that I was part of her second decision. A lesson for me : females also can decide. I just said : « You say all this under the eyes of your doll. »

I learnt only months later that I was only the N°4 and the best ,,, for the time being… for her. That was why she introduced me to her parents just after our successful exams in July 1965.

Rope

Early training

When He arrived in Tokyo in September 1976, I hoped, I wanted Him to fuck me again ; it had been so good five weeks earlier in Paris. Was it love ? I did not know, but what I knew was that I wanted to feel again Him in me and feel the same peak of pleasure as before.

I welcomed Him and He filled me, but was it training when He seized again my panty and made me walk in the streets bare bottom under my skirts ? If not training, it was at least conditioning and I stepped in. At that time He told me : « Having an orgasm with someone, does not mean you are in love. »

Now, looking back at that time, training started a week before He returned to France. He had already subtly changed, addressing more to me as a woman and not only as a body ; we were in a restaurant when He told me : « You know your country is the best one because you visited other places. » , I looked surprised and asked why He said it ; « How can you know that you love me, if you don’t try with others ? Have sex and send me all by letters. I don’t want to know who they are, but  how they are, how they do, how you feel. »

I was crying, but, I don’t know why, I said yes.

The first letters were horrible to write, I was so ashamed, what I was doing was so out of moral. I could not talk to my family, only to Kanako : my friend and sister could become my confident. She qualified Him as evil and adviced me to stop and not meet Him again. I could not.

For each of my letters, He answered with tender words and very precise questions and advices about how I had to move. I knew He was single but I doubted He slept alone when in Paris . In my fourth or fifth letter I asked and he answered « What is important is not to be the only, but to be the prefered ! Yes He had two women there, a french and a korean ».

I was jealous and I fought to be the prefered. As we married in 1979, I think I fought well until then : 31 letters until His full residence in Japan end 1978.

It was training and for this He used me against me. I won !

                                                              -------------------------------------

When He came to Japan in July 1977, in His luggage, He had a « present » for me : a « stimulator » he bought through his french sub during a house tupperware like meeting with selling sex tools to women eager to feel free.

The Stimulator was a dildo with flat electrodes on its shaft, connected to the mains through an adaptor (230v to 100v) with four power levels. Nothing really painful, but once inserted and connected, it was sending regular impulsions forcing my vagina to contract, 4 was sufficiently strong so I could feel the muscle tightening on the fingers I had inserted in me.

Rope has always been a long duration player and I learnt to remain « on line » (as he said) for hours. Not really leading to  any climax, but pleasurable anyway, to the point I wanted crazyly His introduction, but He remained during hours focussed on what He was doing, for my almost despair.

When He unplugged the connection, then the tool from me, I knew His cock was the next visitor, feeling the reflex contractions of my vagina. If not strong enought, several times, He reinserted the dildo and reconnected electricity for some hours more. A real non painful torture when tied spreaded on the bed.

Sometime my vagina automatic rythmic tightening lasted for hours, impossible to control the reflex. I had to use it when the batteries were charged.

It was systematic when I had to guide Him in famous touristic or cultural places. I remember in paricular the day we spent visiting Kamakura, passing from a temple to another, being obsessed to reach a not coming orgasm that He will allow at His will, pushing the power up. He did so at the end of the afternoon just in front of the Dai Butsu (the great Buddah) just when a tourists groups was arriving.

When He was again back to Paris, I continued tu use the stimulator for myself and very possibly also for the benefit of some of  my one shot fuckers.

Of all those men, only one led me to an orgasm as strong as those He had provided me. We met only once and he left me saying something about his wife needing to learn a lot…

Stupid ? But I was shamely proud and I let Him know it in my corresponding letter.

Yooki

Sahel 1975

Njadema (Fort Lamy for french people) 1975

I arrived there for a mission in Chad : evaluate the risk of the rising rebelion in the north of the country. Military risk but also political in that country where France was still very present, almost at home.

Some days later, I moved to Abeche with my squad of specialists, and settled in a military controlled zone, but sufficiently away from the local command which was not to be concerned by our activities. A lieutnant giving rebufs or orders to a colonel, was somewhat something not really appreciated in the high spheres, even if I had the right to do so by the same high spheres. Stupidity lay everywhere !

Two days later, we were at work, meeting people, making acquaintance with some, discussing with others. No exclusion, market, church, mosque, hospital, shops ; civilians, militaries (french or locals), police, shop keepers, citizens or rurals, mainly men as with women a discussion was very problematic in a muslim country (BTW no comparison possible with what exists now in 2015) just someting social. The only real and useful females contacts we built was with Agnes and her daughter, not with the ambassador ‘s or diplomats wives.

They were just practicing the honourable job of whores ! Therefore in contact with many peoples. I never fucked any of them, nor any of my guys (I think), but two or three times a week, one of us went to meet one of them, retrieving the latest news that dropped in their hears.

Here, necessary to say who they were : Agnès was previously a nun in Katanga (previously in belgian Congo), she had been raped several time during incidents in Jadotville and left alive while several of the other sisters were murdered. Pregnant, she gave birth to Marie, but cut from her religious order, leaving Congo for Chad where she educated her daughter while working as  both prostitute and nurse. Marie started in the « profession » when she was 14. A scandal ? Most of their earning was used to help poor people and they were respected because of it.

What we learnt through them helped to avoid nasty operations planned in Biltine and Mongo by the rebels who returned to the Aouzou area in the north of the country after failure. I was recalled to Paris in spring 1976, when back, I strongly suggested to my « high sphere » to recruit Marie and also Agnès (if possible).

I write this short recollection, because Marie sent me today an e-mail informing of her mother’s death. Yooki and me will make the trip to Paris next monday. Respect is due!

Rope

My concept

Already published on my profile on Fetlife.

It is true that pain is only a tool for me. Concerning those nailed nipples, what is great in it is the dilemma and the fear of the woman. For sure I do not feel any particular pleasure to inflict pain, but much more to feel in an almost physical way how they are hit by that pain, their revolts, their suffering, their fears or more their terrors, their hate sometime. Therefore I do not have any objection against pain in itself.

As for humiliation, one more time, I play much more on their own shame than on the gruesome practices made to please the ego of those who impose such actions. Forcing them to the wall, pushing them to transgress what they believe in including their limits, making them understand that they are no more like the others, it is another of my great pleasure.

Of the some 170 women I had in hand for an hour or for years within a little bit less than 50 years, only seven had made all the way with me, the gems remaining once the gangue was removed. None of those seven had any previous experience of sado-masochisme, physical or mental the same, but they remained

An exchange I had after a particlarly tough day with one of them, perfectly reflects their state of mine :

« How do you feel ?

- Dirty !

- Then ?

- I loved it. »

"Yes, you are right, pain and humiliation are a whole, that’s perfectly true . nothing is to be rejected, just adapt everything to yourself, like a suit."

Was my answer to a friend surprised by my comment on the picture "Nails and Symbian" (from Masterfulj on fetlife)

Rope