Part 3:
From my Grandmother’s diaries
1895-96 October to January
The weather has turned, there is a new heat, dry. The north wind blows and brings heat with it, something I am definitely not used to. The ground cover is already looking a little brown after the rush of growth over the cooler months. Magpies here are a little different than they are at home, or in China. Black and white they have a different pattern than our birds and they have a warble song that can be quite beautiful. The trouble is they are also very territorial when nesting.
I did take my painting things out to the bush and immediately fell prey to a swooping bird. I was lucky in that I was wearing a broad brimmed hat, if I hadn’t been, I suspect the bird would have had a chunk of my hair in their nest. I moved away very quickly but the monster kept coming at me. I had no idea this would happen, so was taken completely by surprise. Eventually, I was far enough away from its nest that it gave up. I did ask about this from my neighbour, Rose when I got home again and she told me it was normal this time of year. My first encounter with real wild life in the colony.
Rose and I have a friendship that goes beyond being neighbours. This came about because her daughter, Irene, was going to be married and she wanted me to help get her mother to talk about what happens between a man and a woman on their wedding night. Rose was reluctant for the simple reason she was disgusted by it. She was never interested in men, I found out, not afraid of them, but never aroused by them. Indeed, she found more comfort in my arms than she ever did with her husband.
About a week after my initial encounter with Rose, Irene again sought me out and again told me that her mother had continued to refuse to discuss the matter with her. I sighed and thought furiously. Rose’s reluctance was putting me into an awkward position. I don’t want to infringe upon her responsibilities as a woman or a mother, but Rose is coming to my place after dinner this evening.
Later that evening, Rose came in and was incredibly aroused. She didn’t wait at all, she kissed me, passionately, as soon as the door was closed. “I can’t help thinking about last week, it was so..,” she couldn’t describe it.
I smiled, took her into my arms again and kissed her too. When we broke apart, said, “Come, to my bed.” I could feel that Rose was wearing a minimum of clothing, no corset but had tied her breasts with a cloth that crossed between them. A very clever idea that looped around her neck, crossed between her breasts separating them and holding them up from underneath, then wound around her torso to be tied at the front. I smiled and she said, “Easy to get out of.” She showed me how to do that and then said, “And the summers here are beastly hot, this is a lot more comfortable than a corset, believe me.”
Having already experienced some hot days, I kept in mind that pattern. “I have some Chinese taffeta that is light and soft, very strong that would be a lot more comfortable than this linen,” I said, “But this is a good idea.” I admired her ingenuity.
Rose’s eyes popped at the word ‘taffeta’, “Silk you mean?”
“Oh yes, I have several bolts of it. I am keeping it for my undergarments, but I have much more than I’ll ever need.”
“I have a sewing machine,” she said, “If you like, I can help you make these.”
“Yes, that would be nice, but I don’t have enough to clad all the women in the colony.”
“No,” I thought I sensed a little disappointment in her reply. “Only a thought.” She laughed and came towards me, “I know that you pleasured me in ways I had not ever thought of. Can I do the same to you?”
I had to laugh at her naivety, “Of course, but one thing at a time.”
Rose had me lay on the bed as she removed what was left of my clothing. She kissed my lips, my face, my breasts, with more enthusiasm than skill, I must admit. She then kissed her way down my body, finally centering her tongue on my quim. She licked and lapped at it, I talked to her, telling her what was nice, what she was doing well, until I had her kissing my yindi (clitoris rather than vagina, : Ed).
She made those feelings that eventually produced in me a xìng gaocháo, high ending. It was… pleasant, not overwhelming as Li had done for me on many, many occasions. Then, Rose doesn’t have Li’s experience. We had a pleasant hour and a half, experimenting, using some of the carved toys I had until it was close to the time for Rose to go home again. I had decided to raise Irene’s concerns, while Rose was still full of that sexual repletion, it might make it a bit easier for her to respond.
“Rose,” I said, “We do need to talk.”
“Oh?” she responded in that sluggish, relaxed post-sexual sonambulance.
“Yes, it’s about Irene.”
“Irene? What does she have to do with this?”
“Nothing, but she is somewhat concerned about her wedding night.”
“Oh. She ask you to talk to me,” in a matter of fact way. I nodded, “What can I tell her? Your duty for Queen and Empire? Lay back and count sheep? Wifely duties?” She paused and I said nothing. “My family were Welsh Quakers and gave me no information at all. I got married to a man I had no interest in because it was expected of me. What happened on our wedding night was awful and I do not want to pass that to my daughter.”
Given Li had said almost the same thing about her sexual interactions with men, i understood what her feelings were and how they could taint her daughter’s perspectives. “I don’t want to interfere, here so I’ll-”
“Too late for that, you meddlesome harridan,” then she kissed me. I felt her fingers cover my bi and one slid inside me delving my depths and then a second finger filled me. Rose pumped her fingers, slapping my love button with the palm of her hand cause thrills to shoot through my nethers into the rest of me. “Meddle all you want,” Rose said, between kisses, “I know you enjoy men, so perhaps coming from you, it might be better.”
Yes, it’s true, I do enjoy men, inside me with their penises, either end, one or more at a time. Right then though, I was responding to Rose’s fingers and wasn’t thinking about men at all. Rose kissed and licked my nipples, then slid down, licking my yindi again with her finger buried deep inside me. From a shy, embarrassed woman who now reveled in giving and receiving sexual pleasure, a changed person. She made me again reach my happy place, so after a short interval, I attacked her with one of the ivory prongs from my collection.
The one I used is a little larger than a man’s yangu, has a slightly larger knob, a slight upward bend if you insert it properly, a more pitted surface, much like a rounded cobblestone and is about seven inches long. For some reason, the slightly rougher, upward curve stimulates a woman much more than a smooth one. The bend allows it to slide along the roof of a love tunnel, creating in the woman, feelings that can only be described as intense. It can produce the strongest happy endings in a woman causing her to release a fluid. I found I can do the same with my fingers, as long as I am stroking the top of the love tunnel, so there is some structure inside a woman that lends itself to sexual pleasure.
I prodded Rose’s yin with my prong, pulling it out, pushing it in in a regular pattern. It wasn’t long before I heard Rose gasping and moaning. I bent down and began to lap at her yindi, causing her sounds to reach a fever pitch in a very short time. I lifted off her pulling the ivory stalk out of her, much to her chagrin. I kissed her belly, then slightly lower, tasting the flavour of the bath salts she had used before arriving here. I let my tongue explore her again, over her yindi, her yinchun, spreading those soft lips, inserting the ivory prong again. Rose gasped as the man thing slid inside her body, then was pulled back, to be pushed in again while my tongue pleasured her.
Over and over, I repeated that pattern, until I was rewarded with Rose’s quivering body acting as a wound spring. She spasmed and moaned as she reached her xìng gaocháo. I was rewarded with the sweet taste of her juices, pouring from her yindi. Rose fell back on the bed and gasped as her body recovered from the pleasure I had given her. I held her and she kissed me, telling me how she loved what I did to her.
She kissed my neck, softly, then down, across my breasts. She took a nipple into her mouth and suckled on it. Her hands roamed my body, touching me in all the intimate places she had discovered, giving me a gentle pleasure. Her fingers entered my secret garden, sliding inside my bi, filling me. Her lips pursued their course down my body, her tongue playing across the surface of my skin. With her fingers buried inside me, she lapped at my yindi, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. While she would never likely be as good a lover as Li, she was becoming more experienced, more knowing, more willing to experiment with my body. I liked what she did, finding ways to give me real pleasure.
I spread myself under her probings allowing her to get inside me as far as she could, to that place where I know is a pleasure centre of my body. I stopped her, and reached up, into the small cupboard in the bedhead, pulling out my big phallus. This is a good thirteen inches long and is three inches in diameter. I had it made from ebony, in Japan, and glossed to a back shine. It is built in exact replica of the largest man thing I had ever had inside me.
While in Osaka, a local lord, a Danshaku (Ed: “baron”), I spent some time with introduced me to one of his samurai, a large black man. Seems there were a few of these in Japan, former slaves or sailors who found themselves beached in Japan, who earned great honour for their overlords. This one had done something for the Emperor Meiji, it seems, making this Danshaku’s political fortunes improve dramatically. I was given to this samurai, as a reward or gift, it seems and it really was a pleasure. This man had the largest yangu I had ever seen, or was ever inside me. He was insatiable as well, and I didn’t have to fake the post-ta de ma discomfort that lets other men know he was a good lover or had a big yangu.
I gave the ebony wand to Rose who’s eyes widened at its size, but her fingers seemed to take a life of their own when it was in her hands. Obviously, Rose knew what it was, but she confessed she had never seen anything like it before. Of course, she wouldn’t have, but that didn’t matter. I told her how to use it, how to insert it into me.
I love the feel of it as it slides inside me. It pushes the lips of my bi apart, stretching them and the love tunnel beyond it. I have to be very careful with it though, too deep and it can hurt me, as I have found on occasion where my lust has overridden my caution. I talked to Rose telling her how to put it in, how to use it, where to hold it, how to pump it in and out of me while she laps my yindi. I am lost in my feeling of release, my xìng gaocháo. It swept over me, invading every intimate part of me. And I am glad I am a woman.
No wonder men are so jealous of women. We can be pleasured in any number of ways, yet they only respond to one. What a sad existence men must have when they understand this. There are a variety of techniques to produce in a man that ending, but they all depend on one thing, stimulation of the erect prong. Whether this be by inserting into a hole, or by manual or oral stimulation, it is the mechanical action over his yangju that creates the sensation that leads to the expelling of his fluids. Women though, have fingers, tongues, yangu, da de jai yangu and if skilled enough, a woman can bring another woman to her happy ending with simple massage, not having to touch her bi. (*bi: [bee] vagina, yangu: penis/phallus, da de jai yangu: big dildo: Ed, in traditional Chinese.*)
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/113nfh7/my_grandmothers_diaries_18956_fftoys