Chapter 1

My name is Bugs.

No, that is just a nickname and my real name is Horace Green and I hate it when people actually call me Horace even though that is what it says on my driver’s license. I think the “Bugs” came more from a joke that I was suffering from a loose screw rather than any anal fixations I had displayed while at university.

My parents were wintering on the French Riviera that year in a display of hedonistic desperation as they were both well past middle age and at that point in life when one simply says, “The hell with it, let’s try it once before we die!”

I am an only child and pampered with nannies and caretakers right up until the time I left for school with a huge trunk filled with enough clothing to stock a small shop.

I was given a manservant to accompany me for whatever reason my remaining blood relatives decided to never leave me to my own devices. The employee’s name was Willis and he was a proper gentleman’s gentleman despite his predilection to anally penetrate any willing female regardless of her comeliness or age just as long as she was willing and was able to keep his need for posterior playtime a well-kept secret to preserve his professional reputation.

I had personally watched him in his hobby with several different female acquaintances and found his style of love-making a bit odd, but quite enjoyable to view from a close-up viewpoint.

His ex-wife had been unfortunately lost at sea in a sinking of a passenger vessel victimized by the gathering storm of Fascism sweeping across the European Continent like a swarm of locusts carrying out a biblical prophecy in strange and mysterious manner.

I remembered that there was some speculation that the ship in question was carrying a huge load of armaments intended for allies caught short by the gathering storm. Such a devious ploy was admittedly a violation of the stated agreements signed by the parties in conflict at some boring conference in one of those Baltic countries. I must confess that name honestly escapes me due to lack of interest in such trivia.

As a result, our quarters, quite comfortable for a pair of males born into different generations, suddenly was beset with the arrival of my companion’s “long-absent from close contact” daughter. His Joanna was allegedly afflicted with the attribute of teen years and the disadvantage of her feminine gender which did not fit in with our agenda to all intents and purposes.

I was one of those students that forsaken the company of females for the benefit of a good education.

It was in a way that made me a proficient masturbator of the worst sort with fantasies of female forms igniting my oft hard friendly weapon with ardent desire at the slightest hint of stimulus.

My sex-deprived shaft needed to feel the heat of feminine hindquarters between my sturdy legs like fresh meat from the butcher shop delivered promptly without additional charge. Of course, such wanton foolishness was generally considered a service without any commitment to everlasting love in any form or obligation in a moral sense.

I was lucky to make the acquaintance of a deaf-mute gypsy girl that we hired to clean our quarters and sometimes she would make an effort to polish my knob with her wet, red lips and she would bend over for my Willis’s anal delights with her compliant haunches. Her sweet silence pleased us both and we shared with gracious ease knowing her to be a treasure for convenient pleasure inside our tiny household and no inquiring minds to cast a questioning eye to the propriety of it all.

My manservant’s daughter Joanne arrived in the evening hours on a day that saw our gypsy girl favor me with an oral presentation that made me tingle like a husband on his wedding night. The girl acted with perfection as some strange virgin with nubile enthusiasm. In fact, the gypsy girl with the nefarious name of Tutu was up in Willis’s bedroom bending over the bottom of his modest bed with a knowing smile on her silent face at that very moment.

It was I that heard when his daughter knocked on the door with her shy timid rap that barely was heard by me in the library for the noisy racket up above.

“I’m here for my dad, Mister Willis, your honor and I was told to come to this door by the nice gentleman next door.”

I waved at our nosey neighbor, the ex-military type with typical skin head that wanted to know everything about everybody’s business and didn’t want anyone to know a frigging thing about what he did behind closed doors.

Since the activities above were in full swing, I had no alternative but to escort young Joanne to the library for some brandy and tea in the hope that she would not associate the grunts and groans in the upstairs distance to her father’s evening festivities with the footloose gypsy girl that could only make noises and not actual words to complicate our lives.

There was time enough for her to discover her dad’s shortcomings and I felt it was not my place to put the poor fellow on report to his only flesh and blood. My understanding of their relationship was that he had accepted her responsibility but that they were virtual strangers due to her parent’s disagreeable separation for most of her short young life.

“Drink up, young Miss, that is my grandfather’s brandy and it is old enough to be your great grandfather if it had human form.”

She was not quite sure if I was joking or just trying to put her at her ease.

I could tell she was exhausted from her travel and she only wanted to get into the horizontal and talk it all out in the morning when she was rested and able to think logically like a normal human being.

Shortly after finishing her brandy and tea, the poor thing stretched out and dozed off in front of the fire and I removed her shoes and belt taking only the briefest of peeks at her undies just to see their color. She had on pink knickers and from the scent and odor of French perfume, she was a clean and well-groomed fanny with an interesting rear crack that promised adventures for a fellow of that inclination in excursions into forbidden territory.

The gypsy girl went to her small closet off Willis’s bedroom and he wandered into the library looking customarily sublime after his anal pursuits upstairs. He spotted his daughter immediately and we had a short conversation that allowed it would be best to leave her right where she rested since she looked altogether comfortable in her present recline.

Willis returned to his own bed and I remained in the library on the settee next to the young miss just in case she woke up with a start and needed reassurance that all was in order and she should continue her sleep until the morning light signaled the approaching dawn and the possibility of some breakfast to chase away the hunger pains from a missed meal the night before.