Download Full Version ebook - Visit ebooknice.

com

(Ebook) Selling It to the Creepy Guy Next Door

(Selling It Book Seven) by Amanda Clover

https://ebooknice.com/product/selling-it-to-the-creepy-guy-
next-door-selling-it-book-seven-27984594

Click the button below to download

DOWLOAD EBOOK

Discover More Ebook - Explore Now at ebooknice.com

 Instant digital products (PDF, ePub, MOBI) ready for you
Download now and discover formats that fit your needs...

Start reading on any device today!

(Ebook) Selling It to My Disgusting Boss (Selling It Book

Three) by Amanda Clover

https://ebooknice.com/product/selling-it-to-my-disgusting-boss-
selling-it-book-three-27984588

ebooknice.com

(Ebook) Selling It to My Mother's Boyfriend (Selling It

Book One) by Amanda Clover

https://ebooknice.com/product/selling-it-to-my-mother-s-boyfriend-
selling-it-book-one-27984590

ebooknice.com

(Ebook) Selling It to the Nerds at the Convention (Selling

It Book Eight) by Amanda Clover

https://ebooknice.com/product/selling-it-to-the-nerds-at-the-
convention-selling-it-book-eight-27984596

ebooknice.com

(Ebook) Selling It to My Best Friend's Dad (Selling It

Book Two) by Amanda Clover

https://ebooknice.com/product/selling-it-to-my-best-friend-s-dad-
selling-it-book-two-27984586

ebooknice.com
(Ebook) Selling It to My Sister's Sleazy Husband (Selling
It Book Four) by Amanda Clover

https://ebooknice.com/product/selling-it-to-my-sister-s-sleazy-
husband-selling-it-book-four-27984592

ebooknice.com

(Ebook) Selling It to the Old Guys at the Park (Selling It

Book Six) by Amanda Clover

https://ebooknice.com/product/selling-it-to-the-old-guys-at-the-park-
selling-it-book-six-27984598

ebooknice.com

(Ebook) Selling It to Buy Daddy a Christmas Gift (Selling

It Book Five) by Amanda Clover

https://ebooknice.com/product/selling-it-to-buy-daddy-a-christmas-
gift-selling-it-book-five-27984584

ebooknice.com

(Ebook) Selling It at Delilah's Love Ranch (Selling It

Book Ten) by Amanda Clover

https://ebooknice.com/product/selling-it-at-delilah-s-love-ranch-
selling-it-book-ten-27984580

ebooknice.com

(Ebook) Selling It on the Seedy Streets of the City

(Selling It Book Nine) by Amanda Clover

https://ebooknice.com/product/selling-it-on-the-seedy-streets-of-the-
city-selling-it-book-nine-27984582

ebooknice.com
 Selling It
Book Seven

To the Creepy Guy Next Door

By Amanda Clover
@amandasmut
This book and all its contents are copyright 2020 by Amanda Clover.
All rights are reserved and no portions may be reproduced unless for
the use of brief quotations for review purposes.

All characters appearing in this story are over the age of 18. This is a
work of parody and any resemblance to real people or situations is
coincidental.
 Sunshine

It was a sunny ninety degrees Fahrenheit. No clouds and just a

single 747 track across the bright blue sky. My body felt like it was
baking as I stretched out on the deck chair beside our tiny backyard
pool. I was wearing a blue-white-striped string bikini that barely
covered my areolas. I was enjoying the sun, but my mind was
swirling with the drama that was crashing down on me.
My mom had caught me fucking Mr. Becker and had practically
kicked me out of the house. She had forbidden me to see him ever
again. Then there was Mr. Lamont. The creepy old porno producer
had tried to lure me into joining his harem of porn stars. He had
promised big money, but I didn’t trust him. Am I forgetting
something?
Oh, right, Andy, my sister’s husband, had been blackmailing me for
sex and he had threatened to expose me to some sort of creepy
madam named Miss Delilah. I guess he had done it or she had
tracked me down on her own. She had left her calling card for me
and told me to get in touch.
I was pretty sure that wasn’t optional. Sooner or later, Miss Delilah
would catch up with me.
I sighed and stretched my legs on the deck chair. At least I looked
good and I was starting to pick up a solid suntan. My flat tummy
glistened with the tanning lotion. My gently heaving breasts
betrayed momentary glimpses of the pale flesh under my bikini. It
wasn’t my usual day, but I considered going to the park to see if Mo
or Winston were around and wanted to have some fun. Getting back
to work seemed like the best thing I could do given the
circumstances.
Some of those old guys knew how to give it to me. Was it wrong
that I was getting turned on thinking about fucking them? Yeah,
probably. Did I care? No way. I ran my hand down over my flat
abdomen and to the swell of my mound in the striped bikini. I gave
my pussy a slow stroke through the fabric of the bathing suit, feeling
my yielding cuntlips and the delicate bud of my clit throbbing with
need. I moaned softly, spreading my legs a little more and shifting
on the deck chair.
I was just about to pull my bikini bottoms aside and start pumping
my fingers into my pussy, when my phone began to vibrate on the
drink table next to me. It was Jasmine. If it had been anyone else, I
wouldn’t have answered.
“What’s up?” I said, picking up the phone and holding it to my face.
My fingers smelled like the coconut scent of the tanning lotion and
the dark glass of the phone was warm from the direct sunlight.
“You missed a shift at work,” said Jasmine. “Mr. Becker said it was
okay, but he’s totally in love with you, so that’s no surprise. He asked
if you were okay like he thought you might be sick or something. I
told him you were at school on Friday. But you have been acting
weird the past couple days.”
“It’s nothing,” I answered and sighed, which was like holding up a
sign saying, “It’s not nothing.”
“You never hold out on me,” said Jasmine. “Spill it.”
“Tell him I haven’t been feeling, um, right,” I said.
“Right? That’s a weird way to put it. Okay, I’ll tell him. But what is
going on with you, Jasmine?”
“I was fucking him,” I blurted. “And my mom walked in on us.”
“Oh,” she said and went quiet.
“Oh? That’s it?” I moaned.
“Well, it’s a lot to process,” she said. “You were having sex with Mr.
Becker and your mom caught you? That’s not good.”
“No. She told me I can’t go back to work at the Chesapeake.” I sat
up on the deck chair and felt a trickle of sweat roll down my chest
and into my cleavage. “But that’s not even my biggest problem…”
I started to tell Jasmine about all the problems swirling around me,
starting with my sister’s husband blackmailing me, but as I did, I
noticed something moving at the back fence of our property. It was
technically a privacy fence, but it was as old as the house and falling
to pieces. Through the gap in the fence I could just make out the
bulky body of my neighbor, Mr. Bushwick, pressing up against the
fence.
Mr. Bushwick had caught me prancing around in my towel a couple
days ago and he’d caught me changing clothes or topless by the
pool on more than one occasion. He was the neighborhood creep.
Not exactly ugly, but a big hairy doofus with no social skills who liked
to skulk around and eyeball all the attractive women. Being his
neighbor, I was frequently in his sights.
“Jasmine,” I said, watching him watching me, “I have to go.”
“In the middle of your story?”
“I’ll see you at school on Monday,” I said and hung up the phone. I
set it on the table beside the deck chair. I used to feel creeped out
knowing Mr. Bushwick was watching me, but I felt the same urge as
I had felt the time before: the urge to show off. What could it hurt,
right? I was already the town whore according to my brother-in-law
and word was clearly getting around. I might as well live up to the
reputation.
“Mmmmmmmm,” I moaned, arching on the chair and running my
hands down over my soft breasts, toned tummy, and to glistening
legs. I let my fingers walk up my inner thighs as I settled back onto
the chair. I brought my hands together over the mound of my pussy
and dragged my touch slowly over my bikini’s front. The fabric
rubbed against my folds and my straining bud.
I couldn’t be sure, but I think I heard a moan coming from the other
side of the fence. I definitely detected a little more motion. The
shadow of Mr. Bushwick was moving in a rhythmic way. He was
totally jerking off to me.
That only made it feel hotter. Knowing my middle-aged neighbor,
creepy or not, was jacking his dick while watching me sent a hot
throb into my core. Maybe I should have been one of those cam girls
who moans on her webcam and makes guys jerk their dicks.
“Oooooh,” I moaned, sliding my fingers into my bikini bottoms. I felt
the heat and slickness of my folds. I ran my fingers over my delicate
groove and pressed them into my hot channel. I gasped, working my
fingers deep and letting my palm grind against my clit. I pulled my
legs up, spreading them apart so that Mr. Bushwick had a perfect
view of my hand stretching the front of my bikini.
I knew he was watching me. Getting off to me. And it made
everything hotter. My nipples stiffened under my bikini top. I ran my
free hand up and pulled the bikini aside, freeing my left breast,
crushing it in my hand, pinching and pulling at my pink nipple.
“Ahhhhhh, yes, fuck me,” I moaned, thrusting my hips and pumping
three fingers into my pussy. “Oh, god, yes.”
The chair creaked with the movement of my body. I fucked faster
and faster into my clutching cunt, my fingers sliding into my juicy
walls and my palm beating steadily against my clit. My muscles
tensed. I arched my body, my head and shoulders against the towel
on the deck chair and my back bowed. I gripped the edge of the
chair with my free hand, holding tightly, one breast exposed and my
fingers fucking deliciously into my hot pussy.
“I’m cumming,” I gasped. “Oh, god, yes! Ohhhhhh!”
It was no lie. I wasn’t even playing it up for Mr. Bushwick’s benefit.
An intense, throbbing orgasm erupted from my core and rippled
through my channel, clutching at my thrusting fingers and seeming
to crackle from my clit. I stopped fucking myself with my fingers and
buried them deep, then rubbing my clit with my palm pressed hard
against that tender bud. It prolonged the spasms of my climax,
driving me through the shuddering peak of my pleasure and out the
other side.
I oozed back down onto the deck chair, my breasts heaving with my
exertion and my thighs still quaking. I slipped my glistening fingers
from my pussy and out of my bikini. I held them up to the sunlight
and my fingers seemed to shine with my honey clinging to them. I
looked through my cum-smeared digits and saw a shadow retreating
from the fence. There was an unmistakable dribble of white liquid
down one of the sun-bleached pickets.
“Mmmmmm,” I smiled and brought my fingers to my lips, licking and
sucking the sweet nectar clean. I wasn’t sure if Mr. Bushwick was
still there, but if he was, he might have heard me say, “Hope you
enjoyed the show.”

Bicycling

Showing off for Mr. Bushwick might have given me a little fun and a
moment’s respite from my worries, but it did nothing to address my
problems. I went for a brief swim, showered off, and decided to go
for a bike ride. My original plan was to ride my bike over to Mr.
Crenshaw’s house to see if he wanted a little action. With that in
mind I put on a hot pair of workout shorts and a nice soft crop top
that was so short it almost showed off the fact that I wasn’t wearing
a bra.
As my legs worked on the bicycle and I rose up from the seat to gain
speed, my mind was deep in my troubles. Underlying everything was
the question of whether I had become a sex addict. I felt guilty for
enjoying Selling It. I was getting off to having sex with men I never
would have touched a couple months ago. Old men, fat men, ugly
men. Heck, I had just masturbated for the neighborhood creep and
enjoyed myself.
“Am I the freak?” I wondered.
The patterns of sunlit leaves on the tree-lined streets flashed and
flickered over me as I pedaled along the curb. I stopped my bike at
the intersection of Douglas and Arrowhead Lane. If I kept going
straight on Douglas Street, I would end up at Mr. Crenshaw’s house
in a few blocks. If I turned my bike onto Arrowhead Lane, I would
be headed in the direction of Vince Taggart’s house. Yeah, that Vince
Taggart. My ex-boyfriend. The one fucking Audrey Griswold AKA the
girl with the best tits at Peach Valley High.
I turned my bike onto Arrowhead Lane. I guess I figured my life was
already so chaotic and stupid I might as well go looking for more
trouble at Vince’s house. Riding through his neighborhood was like
riding back in time. There was the little park we had a wrestling
match in for fun and ended up making out on the swings in a
playground. There was the tree he parked under when I gave him
the first blowjob of our relationship. And there was Louis Kelsey’s
house. We went to a party there and Vince almost got me pregnant.
Seeing his big Craftsman style house made me feel hot all over. Like
a fever dream. I remembered a hundred kisses and caresses with
my hunky football star boyfriend.
I ditched my bicycle at the start of the path up to his house and
walked to his door like I was in a trance. I should have known better,
but I rang the doorbell. I heard him bounding down the stairs and I
could picture his lean muscles working. His shadow moved behind
the frosted glass of the front door. My heart was beating so hard. I
could still back out. One last chance to dive into the bushes and
hope he didn’t see my bicycle.
Too late. The door swung open and there was Vince Taggart. All six-
foot-two and two-hundred pounds of solid muscle of him. He was
wearing a pair of loose basketball shorts and a tank top with a
triangle of sweat on his chest. His blond hair was dark with moisture
and his face was flushed. God help me, I wanted to tear his clothes
off and climb on him right there. He looked like a model from a
cologne commercial.
“Payton,” he said and his eyebrows lifted with surprise. “What are
you doing here?”
“I was riding my bike around here,” I said. “Thought I’d stop by and
see how you were doing. Are you going to invite me inside?”
“Oh, um, yeah, sure.” He stepped back from the door. “Sorry. I was
just doing my stationary bike for the day. My mom bought me
Peloton for Christmas.”
I followed him into the cool darkness of his house, the air-
conditioning prickling my sweat. I caught Vince stealing a glance at
my tits in my loose top, my nipples stiff and my breasts jiggling with
each step. I bet he was remembering the way I smelled. The way
my body tasted. I know I was thinking that sort of thing about him.
“Hot day,” he said. “You want a drink or something?”
“Sure,” I said. “You have any San Pellegrino?”
“Still a fancypants, eh?” He said, leading me into the kitchen. He
opened the fridge and had a lock. “I’ve got some apple juice and
some of the cheap sparkling water.”
“Half and half?” I suggested.
“Yeah, sure,” he said, cracking opening a can and mixing it with the
apple juice in two glasses.
“To staying in shape,” I said, clinking my glass against his. “Keeping
those bodies tight.”
“Huh? Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Keeping those bodies tight.”
I locked eyes with him, ready to send all my “fuck me” signals on
every frequency as I chugged some of the concoction in the glass.
Audrey had bigger tits than me. Maybe even perkier tits than me.
But I knew she didn’t fuck like me. I was ready to show Vince what
a real slut could do for him.
“I feel like we don’t talk anymore, Vince,” I said, running my tongue
devilishly against the rim of the glass.
“Yeah, well, we broke up,” he said. “And I don’t think Audrey would
like me hanging around with my ex-girlfriend too much.”
“Oh, she shouldn’t be paranoid. It’s not like I’m going to walk up to
your front door and try to steal you from her with my irresistible sex
appeal.” I tossed my hair playfully, acting like I was pretending to
flirt while actually flirting. “That’s not the sort of person I am.”
“Really?” Vincent watched my breasts heaving against my top.
“That…I mean, you always flirted with every guy we ran into.”
“Me?” I held a hand against my chest as if wounded by his
accusation.
“Yeah, like every guy on the team thought he had a chance with
you,” said Vince. “Not to mention you were always wearing, um,
outfits like…like what you’re wearing now.”
“What’s wrong with my outfit?” I asked, wiggling my hips and
looking myself over like I couldn’t tell that my ass was practically
hanging out of my shorts and the underside of my breasts was
visible when I moved my arm. Look, it wasn’t sophisticated flirting,
but I knew Vince. He thought with his dick and I could practically
see it twitching in his basketball shorts.
I stepped closer to him, brushing against his arm so he felt my stiff
nipples. My lips were close to his. Close enough to kiss him.
“You like it, don’t you?” I asked, reaching for his cock.
The doorbell rang just as my fingers were about to touch that
familiar bulge. Vincent jumped back from me like I’d just burned him
with my almost touch. He made a gesture like he wanted me to
relax and then hurried to the front door. I leaned across the counter
so I could see him. Cute butt. Would have looked better without the
shorts.
Then the door opened and all my fun came screeching to a halt.
Audrey Griswold was standing in the doorway looking like an
Instagram model. Because she was an Instagram model. Great
eyebrows. Perfect tits. Outfits that she was probably paid to wear,
but they still looked great. That day she was wearing a half shirt
with a heart-shaped cutout and a plaid skirt hat might have been
shorter than my shorts. She made a sour face as she caught sight of
me standing in the kitchen. She leaned over and whispered
something to him. He gestured to me helplessly. I played out their
conversation in my head. “Why is she here?” and “I don’t know, she
just stopped by. I’m trying to get her to leave.”
He didn’t have to try any harder. I bolted down the rest of my drink
and set the glass on the counter.
“Heyyyyy, Audrey,” I said, smiling as I approached them.
“Oh, hey, Payton,” she said, giving me the fakest beauty pageant
smile. “So good to see you here. At my boyfriend’s house.”
We embraced and fake kissed. I felt like an idiot.
“I’m just, uh, thanks for the drink, Vince.” I waved sheepishly.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “You’re welcome.”
I felt like I was falling. My face hot with humiliation as I stumbled
out of the front door. I turned to apologize to try to salvage the
moment and they had already closed the door in my face. I heard
Audrey laughing on the other side. I could see their bodies pressing
together through the frosted glass of the door.
I’d been so stupid. I was a whore. I couldn’t walk back into my life
as the football hunk’s girlfriend. I sucked dick for money. I fucked
disgusting men for cash. I walked back out and picked up my
bicycle. I climbed onto the seat without a look back. That life was
gone.
A new door seemed to open inside me. I remembered Mr. Lamont’s
offer to come check out his studios. To do my fucking on camera. I
was a whore. Why couldn’t I be a star too?
Victor Lamont was the CEO and executive producer for Darkside
Productions. He’d approached me a few days earlier and introduced
me to one of his starlets. He’d dropped off a business card and some
flowers in the days since. He wanted me to go to his studio.
So I went to his studio. Halfway across town. It was in one of those
nondescript, warehouse-style buildings with a fenced in parking lot.
The security guard at the little booth saw me riding my bike up to
the gate and he stepped out.
“Whoa there, darling,” he said, looking me over. “You old enough to
be going in there?”
“I’m nineteen,” I said.
“Need to see some ID,” said the guard. “I’ve never seen you before.
I can’t just go letting every girl who wants to be in a porno through
the gate. That’s how we get busted by the feds.”
“Mr. Lamont recruited me,” I said, my annoyance growing.
“Oh, yeah? I’ll call up then. What’s the name?”
I hesitated. Once I gave him my name it felt like it would be carved
in stone. I’d pedaled nearly ten miles through traffic to get here.
Maybe it was the incredulous look on the guard’s face or the way he
was eyeballing my shorts. I felt sick. Adrift. I needed to find a safe
harbor and this creepy warehouse looking porno studio wasn’t it.
“Forget it,” I said and climbed back on my bicycle.
I’d only managed to compound my feelings of stupidity and
loneliness. As the sun went down, I pedaled to the one place where
I knew I wouldn’t be turned away.
It took three soft knocks at the basement entrance to the house
before Mr. Becker finally came to the door. He was wearing an untied
robe over t-shirt and sweatpants. His belly was sticking out under his
shirt. His thinning hair was a mess. He saw me through the small
window in the door and his eyes bulged. He tried to tug his shirt
down and straighten his hair. I felt like laughing, but I just smiled at
him and waited. He cinched the dangling belt of the robe around his
waist and achieved something like modesty. He finally opened the
door.
“Payton, um, good to see you,” he said. “You weren’t at work
yesterday and you haven’t been answering my texts since…since
what happened. I thought something was wrong.”
“Yeah, something was wrong,” I said, pushing past him and into the
basement apartment.
“Can I get you a drink or something?” he asked. “Uh, a Coke or
something?”
“Stronger?” I asked hopefully.
“Yeah, sure, why not?” He mixed me a whiskey sour and sipped his
whiskey from a tumbler. We sat down on the couches in his little
apartment and I let it all out. I told him a lot more than he probably
wanted to know. I didn’t need him to say anything, I just needed
him to listen. And when I was done saying it to him and he put a
sympathetic arm around me, I kissed Mr. Becker on his lips.
I felt so small in his arms, but also safe. Like he could protect me. I
kissed him again, my tongue dancing into his mouth. Again, my lips
opening and his tongue sliding against mine. Again and again,
moaning against him as his hand caressed my hip and his pudgy
fingers squeezed my ass. My hand slid between his bulky thighs and
I felt the straining bulge of his hard cock in his sweatpants.
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” he whispered between kisses.
“Oh, you want me to stop?” I asked, give his cock another squeeze
as I shifted onto my hands and knees on the couch beside him. I slid
down the waistband of his sweats and stretched the band of his
tighty whities beneath his hairy balls. His thick cock was hard, red,
and already glistening with his precum. I giggled, “I don’t hear any
objections.”
“Well, I didn’t…I just mean…ohhhh…”
His head fell back on the couch and a smile spread across his face.
It was easy to persuade him to sit back and enjoy it as I slid my lips
down over the head of his cock, tasting his salty precum. Did I go
over to Mr. Becker’s house to suck his cock? Yeah, I think I did. I
breathed in his masculine scent as I bobbed my head in his lap. He
rested a hand on the back of my head, never pushing down, but
urging me on with his fingertips. My spit soaked down the fat length
of his shaft. I grasped his root, his hairy balls shifting beneath my
fingers.
“Mmmmmmmm,” I moaned around him.
“Oh, god, Payton,” he moaned. “You’re…you’re sucking me…
ohhhh…”
I went faster, sucked harder, and had no intention of stopping. Mr.
Becker was powerless to resist me. He let go of my head and
reached a hand over my body on the couch beside him. His slid his
hand into the back of my shorts, squeezing my ass, rubbing his
fingers down my crack and lower, to stroke the damp folds of my
pussy.
“You want me to cum in your mouth,” he moaned.
“Mmmmmhmmmm,” I agreed, never interrupting the ravenous
blowjob I was giving him.
He curled two fingers into my pussy, squeezing my cunt and rubbing
his fingers inside my slick cove. I felt him tense as his hand
squeezed tighter. He sucked in a breath, his belly shuddering and his
balls tensing. His cock swelled between my lips and he let out a
high-pitched yelp followed by a deep manly groan as his thick, hot
load began to pump into my mouth. I sucked it all out of him, letting
his salty cream fill my mouth.
“Oh, wow,” he laughed, watching me as I gave his cock one last bob
and hollowed my cheeks around his tip. I popped my lips free,
cupping a hand under my chin to keep any of his cum from spilling
out of my mouth. He saw what I was doing and reached for a tissue.
I squeezed his thigh to get his attention back. “What? Here you
can…spit it…”
His words trailed off again as I opened wide and showed him all the
cum filling my mouth. I swirled my tongue in it, shifting the big
gooey glob around my mouth and letting him see just how much
cum I’d managed to suck out of him. He stared in awe at the
mouthful and then I closed my lips and looked him in the eyes as I
struggled to swallow it all. It took two gulps to get it down and the
taste of him was still thick on my tongue.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the tissue from his hand and using it to
wipe my lips.
“Baby, you’re welcome,” he said and lifted me into his arms. He
kissed me without hesitation, no doubt tasting himself on my
tongue, but seemingly unbothered by it. I shifted onto his lap,
kissing him again and again as his pudgy hands cradled my ass in
my tight shorts. His fingers had felt good in my pussy, but he hadn’t
even come close to getting me off and after that blowjob, I deserved
to cum.
“Mmmmmm, I need it,” I gasped, grinding my mound against his
lips.
“Payton, I don’t think I can go again so soon,” he said. “I didn’t even
take a pill tonight. You surprised me.”
“There’s plenty of other things you can do,” I gasped between
kisses, squeezing my tits against his chest.
He laughed in apparent agreement and surprised me by lifting my
ass up and causing me to slide up his belly and onto his chest. My
tits and then my flat tummy dragged across his face. He kissed my
toned abs and lifted again, until my knees were perched on the back
of the couch and I was basically sitting on his face. He kept one
hand on my ass to balance me there as he reached his other hand to
the front of my shorts and pulled shorts and panties aside with a
forceful tug.
“Oh, Mr. Becker!” I giggled. “You’ve come up with an idea!”
“Yes, let me repay the favor!” he said and buried his tongue in the
soft folds of my teenage pussy.
“Ahhhhh!” I cried out, one hand braced on the wall behind the couch
and the other tangled in Mr. Becker’s thinning hair.
He licked me eagerly and I rode his face, my thrusts shaking the
couch so forcefully that it made my tits bounce and his big belly
jiggle. I always kept one hand on his head, losing my self-
consciousness and riding him purely for pleasure. I moaned louder
and louder, bucking against his tongue. He sucked my little pussy
and speared his tongue into my clutching channel. My clit throbbed.
My core quaked with the urgent need for release. I was on the brink
of my orgasm.
“Bert,” I gasped and grabbed his head with both hands. My knees
folded and I fully sat my pussy on his lips and chin. I squeezed him
between my thighs and cried out, “Ohhhhh, Bert! You’re going to
make me cum!”
His hands gripped my ass tightly, holding me against his face as if he
was as eager as me for my orgasm. I rode him hard and used that
support to bounce my throbbing kitty against his flicking tongue. I
squealed with pleasure, calling his name as ecstasy burst from my
core and radiated to my clit and my nipples. My cum poured out in a
torrent that was bordering on a squirt, drenching poor Mr. Becker’s
lips and chin. He responded by clamping his mouth to my pussy,
sucking at my clit and my folds and gulping down my nectar like he
was sucking the juice from a peach.
“Ohhhhhh my god,” I moaned, thighs clenched hard around his
balding head. “Ohhh, Mr. Becker, you suck my pussy so good!”
“Mmmmphmmhphm!” he replied, smothered in my teenage cunt and
awash in my juices.
I finally eased off his shoulders, sliding down over him, dragging my
breasts in his face before planting a big, wet kiss on his lips. He
smelled and tasted like my pussy and that was hot. My tongue slid
against his, tasting that raunchy sweetness, as he continued to
squeeze and knead my ass.
I happened to notice that something was poking me in the thigh. I
looked down and saw Mr. Becker’s fat cock sticking up, straight and
very red, oozing his precum. Or was it postcum? I don’t know how
that works. Whatever it was, it was coming out of his very hard
cock.
“Well, looks like something popped up after all,” I giggled, wrapping
my hand around his shaft as I kissed him again. “What are we going
to do with that?”
“I don’t have the money for this,” he wheezed, kissing me again.
“Mmmmmmmm,” I moaned against his lips, kissing him and stroking
his cock against the crack of my ass. “Maybe you’ve earned a
freebie.”
“What did I do?” he asked, squeezing my ass with excitement.
“You’ve got a nice fat cock,” I replied, rolling my hips and rubbing
my crack against the underside of his shaft. “And you never give me
any grief anymore.”
“Does that mean I used to give you grief?” he asked, squeezing my
ass in both hands and looking up at me as I rubbed against his cock.
“You used to try to grope me all the time,” I replied. “Grab my ass.
That sort of thing.”
“Oh, imagine that,” he said. “I sound like a real piece of shit.”
“Yep, huge piece of shit,” I said and kissed him again.
This time I lifted my hips, grasping his cock and guiding it to the hot
folds of my pussy. I slid down onto him and he moaned into my
mouth, shuddering as I rode my pussy down to the hilt on his big
cock. It felt incredible. I was so wet from my cum and his saliva that
his fat cock slid easily into my clutching pussy.
“Ohhhhh, Payton,” he groaned as I squeezed him with my inner
muscles and began a steady ride, my hips working like a machine
and my pussy riding up and down his cock. My breasts heaved
practically in his face and he took full advantage of the opportunity,
leaning forward to let my soft mounds swing against his open mouth
with every thrust. He licked and kissed my tits, his tongue sending
hot lashes through my sensitive nipples and into my core.
“Suck them,” I gasped, pressing them fully against his face and
guiding a stiff nipple to his mouth. I felt his lips part and the warmth
of his mouth engulf my right nipple and most of my areola. He
moaned as he sucked me and I bounced my hot, clutching pussy on
his fat cock.
My ride on his hard cock grew so vigorous that we ended up falling
off the couch. Or at least I fell and he sort of followed me down to
the floor as I slipped off his cock. I was surprised when he forcefully
turned me over onto my hands and knees, grunting, “I want to fuck
you from behind. See your ass.”
I knew what that big bad boy wanted. I put my face down on the
floor, my tits pressed flat, and lifted my shapely ass up for him. He
smacked my cheeks with both hands and spread my ass wide.
“You can fuck my ass,” I offered him, a hot thrill tickling my core at
the thought of letting him fuck me there.
“R-really?” He lifted an eyebrow with surprise. “Are you sure?”
“If you have lube,” I said.
“O-one second!” he got up a bit awkwardly and went waddling
across his apartment to the bedroom. He returned a moment later,
his cock bouncing and his big belly jiggling as he dropped back to his
knees behind me. I watched over my shoulder as he opened a bottle
of water-based lube and dripped it into my crack and all over my
asshole. I moaned as the cool liquid spilled between my cheeks and
dripped down over my pussy. “Oh, Payton, your ass is so sexy.”
“I know,” I laughed, wiggling my hips from side to side. “You boys
always go wild for it. But not many of them get to put it in me there.
So be gentle.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, rubbing his cock against the slick wrinkle of
my asshole. His cock was swollen with excitement and felt
enormous. I started to doubt my decision as his fat cockhead caught
against the divot of my butthole.
“Ohhhhhh,” I moaned as he began to push. I clenched reflexively,
but the tightness of my hole was no match for the slipperiness and
forceful thrust of Mr. Becker’s fat cock. The bulbous tip forced open
the clenching ring of my asshole and his well-lubed cock slid into my
pucker. Once his cock was past my hole it slid easily into my ass,
pushing his full length inside my tender ass.
“Oh, Payton,” moaned Mr. Becker, holding my ass spread as his cock
filled me. “Oh, my god, it’s so tight. So…oohhhhh…so hot.”
“You’re really filling me up, Mr. Becker,” I moaned as he pulled back
and thrust in again. His cock seemed to stretch me even wider. He
let go of my ass and grabbed my hips, pulling me back against him.
His hairy belly rubbed against my ass and his balls mashed against
my pussy. He pulled back and thrust in. Pulled back and thrust in.
Faster. Harder. I crooned, “Oh, fuck, that’s good! Fuck my tight…
ooooh…tight little asshole.”
That was all the encouragement Mr. Becker needed to really pound
my ass. I loved the feel of his fat cock squeezing all the way in and
then almost all the way back out again. His dick was so hard and I
was so wet back there from all the lube that it worked perfectly,
even as my asshole tensed with my growing pleasure. His breathing
grew heavier with each stroke. His cock seemed to swell.
“Oh, Payton, I’m going to fucking cum,” he grunted, his pudgy
fingers tightening on my hips.
“Yes, cum with me, Burt,” I gasped. “Ohhhhh, fucking fill me with
that load! I want to feel you shoot it in my ass!”
Burt thrust to the hilt into my clenching asshole, his tight balls
mashed against my pussy and his belly pushing down on my ass. His
weight bore down on me and I nearly fell over as his cock pulsed
and throbbed. I felt the heaviness of his spunk stuffing my ass. I
cum with him, the pressure of his erupting cum like a sweetness
added to the intense spasms of my orgasm. My ring flexed around
his shaft again and again, his hairs tickling against my asshole each
time he buried his fully length inside me.
It was an intense climax, followed by lots of wheezing and gasping
and splashes of sweat dripped all over my shoulders and back. I felt
his cock twitch deep in my ass.
“Ohhh, Burt, you’re so bad,” I laughed, squeezing against his cock.
“Go slow now.”
“Y-yeah, alright,” he said. He pulled his cock out of my well-fucked
hole and I felt cum dribbling out. I went to the bathroom to clean up
and returned to find Mr. Becker asleep and snoring in bed. I thought
about gathering my things and going home. Then I thought about
my mom waiting for me and how it felt to be at home lightly.
I slipped naked under the covers and cuddled against Burt Becker’s
paunchy side. He snorted in his sleep, curling a hairy arm around me
to pull me closer. That’s how I fell asleep in the arms of my
disgusting boss. Again.

Park Pleasures

My hands and knees were in the grass at Peach Park in downtown

Peach Valley. My shirt was pulled up under my armpits and my tits
swung beneath me with the movement of my body. Mo was kneeling
behind me. The old Jewish man was wheezing and muttering in
Yiddish as he plowed my teenage pussy. His glasses were fogged up
and his hat was askew as he sawed his condom-wrapped schwanz in
and out of my slippery folds.
“Ohhhh, yes, Mo,” I cried, exaggerating my pleasure only slightly.
“Give it to me! Give me that big fucking dick!”
“What do you think I’m doing?” He grunted. “Oh, bubbeleh, you are
very tight. So tight. Like the alimony agreement my wife’s lawyer got
out of me.”
“You like that tight pussy? That teenage pussy?” I looked at him
over my shoulder, throwing my ass back against him. “Is it going to
make your little old dick pop?”
“Little?” He grunted and gave my ass a smack. “It’s not so small. I’ve
never had a complaint before.”
“Oh, Mo, I’m not complaining. It feels so good!” I threw my ass back
even harder, smacking it loudly against him as my pussy devoured
his straining cock.
“Ha! Oh, my ticker can’t take much more,” he moaned, falling back
so that his cock slipped out of my pussy.
I turned around to face him, easing him back into the grass. I
quickly climbed atop him and slid my soaking pussy down onto his
cock. His wrinkled old hands reached up and cradled my bare
breasts as I began to ride him. I was used to it. Mo was one of my
best customers and he always got worn out about halfway through
our sessions. I actually liked it that way. It let me decide how to end
things. Today, his cock was feeling especially nice, so I decided to
ride him out right there in the park behind some bushes.
My ass bounced atop him as my pussy slid up and down his stiff
cock. He squeezed and molded my breasts in his hands, his fingers
toying with my stiff nipples. He wheezed with exertion and I panted
louder and louder, crying out softly with my growing pleasure. He
was hitting my clit so nicely. His cock had a nice ridge and even in
the condom it rubbed against my tender bud each time I rode up
and down again on his dick.
“Ooooooohhhh,” he moaned, his head lolling and his hands dropping
to my hips. He moved them to my round ass, squeezing my cheeks
and spreading me to the sunlight. My asshole twitched, still a little
tender after the pounding Mr. Becker gave me the night before. I
could feel Mo’s cock jerking inside me. Throbbing and swelling in his
condom. He was getting really close.
“Yess!” I cried, on the brink of my own orgasm. “Oh, yes! Give it to
me, Mo!”
Pleasure tore through me, exploding from my core and making my
inner walls clutch at his stiff cock. I felt Mo’s cock throb in reply and
the condom swelled against my cervix as he pumped his cum inside
me. He squeezed my ass so tightly in his fingers that I thought he
might literally be dying, but in that moment I didn’t care. I was
cumming too hard to stop. My breasts bounced wildly and I threw
back my head, focusing only on the pleasure and the hot sensation
of his twitching dick. I finally fell forward, my breasts against his
chest.
“Mmmmmm, so good, Mo,” I gasped, my lips close to his.
“I think you broke my coccyx,” he groaned, so out of breath I could
barely understand him. “But it was worth it.”
I took care of the condom and helped clean him off with some wet
wipes I kept in my purse. Mo’s face was all red from the Viagra, but
he was otherwise fine and just being a crybaby about his tailbone. I
few flirty kisses and he was all better.
“See you tomorrow?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” said a man’s voice from behind me.
I turned just as a huge, hairy gorilla of a man grabbed me in his
arms and started dragging me away from Mo. The old timer tried to
protect me, but the gorilla snarled, “Keep out of it, old man, or I’ll
break you in half.”
“What the fuck do you want?” I cried. “Who are you?”
“Miss Delilah wants to have a word with you,” said the gorilla.
One of the threats hanging over my head and had finally caught up
with me. I stopped struggling with the gorilla.
“It’s alright,” I said to Mo. “Go home. I’ll be fine.”
The gorilla wasn’t waiting for me to say goodbye. He dragged me
with him into the woods, down a hiking trail, and out onto the
sidewalk at the edge of the park. A dark sedan was waiting at the
curb. The gorilla opened the door and shoved me inside.
Miss Delilah Foxx was a heavyset blonde with too much foundation
and rouge. She looked to be in her forties, but it was hard to tell
under all that makeup. Her breasts were enormous, their size
accentuated by the corseted vest she was wearing over her blouse.
Her long, fake eyelashes fanned up and down as she stared at me.
Her glossy red lips curled into a smile.
“Payton Douglas,” she said, her perfume thick in the air. “I’m glad we
could finally meet.”
“Didn’t have much choice,” I said. “Your gorilla dragged me over
here.”
“Bruno can be very direct,” she said. “Apologies if he was rough with
you. But here we are. So let’s have a little chat.”
The car shook as Bruno climbed into the passenger seat. Delilah
motioned to the driver and the car pulled away from the curb.
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded.
“For a drive,” said Miss Delilah. “Now, I can appreciate an
enterprising young woman. You’re very attractive. I’m sure you’re a
big earner with tits like those.”
She hooked a finger into my top, stretching it down to reveal more
of my breasts. I pulled away from her with a hiss of disgust. She
laughed.
“If you’d kept to your little neighborhood or your school, I’d have
probably never heard of you.” She took out a compact and began
adjusting her eyeshadow. “But you just had to set up shop at the
Chesapeake and start fucking my clients downtown. You know those
rich old men you’ve been shtupping in the park? Those are my
clients.”
“It’s a free country,” I said.
She snapped her compact shut. Her smile was cold, her blue eyes
glittering with hate as she looked over at me.
“You have two choices here,” she said. “You can pack it up and go
back to your neighborhood. Or you can work for me.”
“I’m not working for you,” I snapped, appalled by her entire
approach.
“Then you’re in early retirement,” she said. “Miss Delilah owns all of
downtown. If I see you at the Chesapeake or at the park, you are in
for a world of hurt.”
“I work at the Chesapeake,” I said.
“Not anymore you don’t. You do not even stay at the Chesapeake.
Don’t even visit your friend when she’s working there. Jasmine, isn’t
it?” She smiled at my reaction to hearing Jasmine’s name. “Oh, that’s
right, Payton. I’ve done my research on you. Stay out of downtown.”
“What am I going to do?” I said, fighting back the urge to burst into
tears.
“Give blowjobs to school teachers?” She laughed. “I hear Victor
Lamont has been sniffing around you. Why not go work for him? I’d
give you a better deal than he would, but I understand you’re too
proud to work for me.”
The car slowed to a stop and I realized we were outside my house.
“Get out,” she said. “I had better not see you again, Payton.”
I was suddenly struck by something funny. I burst into laughter even
as Bruno held the door open for me to get out of the car.
“What is it? Why are you laughing?”
“You sound just like my mother,” I said. “And I hate her guts too.”

My Bonnie

The woman on stage looked and sounded like Pink from the late
1990s. Her pompadour was even, well, pink. She was gorgeous in a
white gown with a plunging neckline as she swayed in the spotlight
and belted out a smoky torch song. Her voice was pure, sultry,
honey-sweet sex. I wanted to lick it up. Judging by the women
crowded around the stage, I wasn’t the only one.
“So that’s Holly Wilkes?” I said, staring up at the stage.
“She’s here every week,” said Bonnie McCarthy, sipping her glass of
wine. “I see that look in your eyes, Payton. You have a crush on her,
don’t you?”
I turned my attention back to my frosty and very curvy ice queen of
a business manager. She was dressed in a gown with a corsage. I
felt like we were at a prom dinner and the gown she’d bought for
me to wear was showing off entirely too much of my body for such a
crowded setting. My breasts swayed in my spaghetti strap gown as I
reached for my wine glass and raised it to Bonnie.
“I only have eyes for you, Bonnie,” I said and drank the sweet red.
“Mmmm, if that were true, you wouldn’t have much of a business,
Payton,” she chuckled. Holly finished her song on stage and we
interrupted our conversation to applaud her. She left the stage and
the murmur of conversation resumed in the club. Waitresses swept
in to take a fresh round of food and drink orders. Bonnie continued,
“It’s alright. Everyone loves Holly. Now then, come here. Sit beside
me.”
I wanted to tell her all about Miss Delilah, but Bonnie had an agenda
of her own that night. Holly wasn’t just some sexy torch singer at a
lesbian night club. She was Bonnie’s ex-girlfriend. I stood up from
my seat across the table from Bonnie, feeling the slinky red dress
cling to my hips and ass. I circled the table and slid into the booth
side of the table facing the stage. Bonnie pulled me closer, her
ample body against mine, her smell sweet and familiar as her lips
brushed against mine. Being so close to her sent a tremor through
my leg and into my core.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the club tonight, Payton,” she
murmured, stroking a lock of hair from my face. “Everyone is jealous
of me. They’re wondering how I ended up with you on my arm. How
did I?”
“Christmas,” I reminded her.
“No, that’s not it,” she said, her fingers trailing from my cheek to my
throat. She wrapped her fingers around my neck, one hand
squeezing just enough to let me know she could choke me right
here in the club. It was a surprising and weirdly exciting show of her
power over me. “It’s because I know you, Payton. I know just how
bad you can be. And I know what you need, don’t I?”
“Yessssss,” I hissed, my heart thudding so hard it seemed as if my
breasts might be quivering.
“And every woman at the Cat Club tonight can feel that power,” she
whispered, her lips brushing against mine. “Including Holly.”
“I want her to see,” I whispered. “I want her to see me with you.”
“Good,” said Bonnie, dragging her lips against mine. She
relinquished her hold on my throat. “Dance with me then.”
Holly’s backing band had begun to play a big band tune and several
couples had gotten to their feet to dance to the music. Most of the
women at the club were considerably older than me. Bonnie was
actually on the younger side for women at the club and there were
only one or two who might have been around my age. With my
slinky dress and Bonnie cutting a striking figure in her short white
skirt and stockings, we had the room’s attention as we moved onto
the dance floor.
She knew how to move. She held me against her one moment, her
body warm against mine, her breath caressing my neck. The next
she was pulling away, moving to the beat, her hips on a swivel and
her long legs reminding me of what it was like to be between them.
I got into this whole business not thinking I had any attraction to
women, but watching Bonnie dance was enough to make me
soaking wet. She kept doing this thing every time she pulled me
close where she would turn me in her arms so my ass was against
her hips, hold my body with an arm between my breasts and a hand
around my throat, and then she would kiss the nape of my neck.
God, it drove me crazy. I wasn’t the only one. The dancefloor was
getting hotter and hotter as Bonnie’s lust seemed to spread among
the other girls. They might not have been as sexy as me and Bonnie,
but it was intense and thrilling to have all these women turned on by
watching me grinding on Bonnie.
“I think they like us,” said Bonnie, pulling my back against her
breasts and sliding a hand down my body to my thigh. I moved
against her, rolling my hips, pressing my ass against her and leaning
my head on her shoulder.
“I think they like watching,” I said, turning suddenly and resting my
arms on her shoulders. “So let’s give them something to watch.”
Our kiss was explosively hot. Molten hot. Her lips parted and her
tongue invited me to an even more intimate dance. Her hands
roamed down my body, squeezed my ass and held me against her.
The song ended and we kept kissing. The whole club was quiet,
watching me with Bonnie for a few seconds before we finally
separated to laughter and scattered applause. Bonnie held my hand
and we bowed to a room full of appreciative lesbians.
“I think we’d better get out of here,” suggested Bonnie.
“Getting hot and bothered?” I giggled, hugging against her arm and
kissing her neck.
“Yes,” she said, picking up her purse. “And I just saw my ex storm
out. Mission accomplished.”
We made it as far as Bonnie’s car. She had parked in a darkened
corner of the lot at the club, in the deep shadows of tree
overhanging the privacy fence that separated the lot from a
residential neighborhood. In the deep darkness, on the soft leather
of Bonnie’s Mercedes, I wriggled out of my dress and pressed my
naked breasts against Bonnie. She stroked the waistband of my
panties with one hand on my hip as we kissed in the darkness of her
car, our lips and tongues stoking the fire blazing between us.
“Spread your legs,” she whispered against my lips.
I answered with a moan, pressing another hungry kiss against her
lips and parting my shapely thighs. Her fingers traced my tender
groove through the soft fabric of my underwear. My arousal began to
soak through as her touch traced my slit and pressed more
insistently at my throbbing bud.
“Ohhhhh, yes,” I whined against her lips, moving my hips and
pressing my pussy against her fingers. I bent against her, caressing
her body and kissing the tops of her breasts, lips brushing the lace
of her bra.
“You’re out of control,” she laughed and I moaned in reply, pulling at
her dress and her bra to try to expose her breasts. “To think you had
never even been with a woman when we met. And here you are,
practically begging for it in my car like a dirty little lesbian slut.” Her
fingers pressed ever more insistently at my clit, rubbing in a circle
and spreading my nectar. I wanted that barrier out of the way. I
wanted her fingers against me so badly.
I moaned as I finally freed her nipples, stiff and dark in faint light of
the console. I kissed, licked, and sucked. Oh, god, she was right. I
was combusting in that seat.
“Admit it,” she whispered softly, strumming faster at my clit. “You’re
my little lesbian slut.”
“Yesssss,” I hissed without hesitation. “Oh, yes, Bonnie. Your lesbian
slut.”
Her hand abruptly withdrew from between my thighs. She teased
her lips against mine, whispering into a tantalizing kiss, “Prove it to
me. Show me what a naughty little slut you are for me.”
She climbed through the space between the two front seats like she
was trying to get into the back of the Mercedes. She stopped there,
her knees on the center console and her luscious ass between the
seats. She braced one hand on the back seat and looked back over
her shoulder. She watched my reaction as she reached her other
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 MANAGEMENT OF THE NAVEL.

13. Should the navel-string be wrapped in SINGED rag?

There is nothing better than a piece of fine old linen rag, unsinged;
when singed, it frequently irritates the infant’s skin.
14. How ought the navel-string to be wrapped in the rag?
Take a piece of soft linen rag, about three inches wide and four
inches long, and wrap it neatly round the navel-string, in the same
manner you would around a cut finger, and then, to keep on the rag,
tie it with a few rounds of whity-brown thread. The navel-string thus
covered should, pointing upward, be placed on the belly of the child,
and must be secured in its place by means of a flannel belly-band.
15. If, after the navel-string has been secured, bleeding should (in
the absence of the medical man) occur, how must it be restrained?
The nurse or the attendant ought immediately to take off the rag,
and tightly, with a ligature composed of four or five whity-brown
threads, retie the navel-string; and to make assurance doubly sure,
after once tying it, she should pass the threads a second time around
the navel-string and tie it again; and after carefully ascertaining that
it no longer bleeds, fasten it up in the rag as before. Bleeding of the
navel-string rarely occurs, yet if it should do so—the medical man not
being at hand—the child’s after-health, or even his life, may, if the
above directions be not adopted, be endangered.
16. When does the navel-string separate from the child?
From five days to a week after birth; in some cases not until ten
days or a fortnight, or even, in rare cases, not until three weeks.
17. If the navel-string does not at the end of a week come away,
ought any means to be used to cause the separation?
Certainly not; it ought always to be allowed to drop off, which,
when in a fit state, it will readily do. Meddling with the navel-string
has frequently cost the babe a great deal of suffering, and in some
cases even his life.
18. The navel is sometimes a little sore after the navel-string
comes away; what ought then to be done?
A little simple cerate should be spread on lint, and be applied every
morning to the part affected; and a white-bread poultice, every night,
until it be quite healed.
19. What are the causes of a rupture of the navel? What ought to
be done? Can it be cured?
(1.) A rupture of the navel is sometimes occasioned by a
meddlesome nurse. She is very anxious to cause the navel-string to
separate from the infant’s body, more especially when it is longer in
coming away than usual. She, therefore, before it is in a fit state to
drop off, forces it away. (2.) The rupture, at another time, is
occasioned by the child incessantly crying. A mother, then, should
always bear in mind that a rupture of the navel is often caused by
much crying, and that it occasions much crying; indeed, it is a
frequent cause of incessant crying. A child, therefore, who, without
any assignable cause, is constantly crying, should have his navel
carefully examined.
A rupture of the navel ought always to be treated early—the earlier
the better. Ruptures of the navel can only be cured in infancy and in
childhood. If it be allowed to run on until adult age, a cure is
impossible. Palliative means can then only be adopted.
The best treatment is a Burgundy pitch plaster, spread on a soft
piece of wash-leather about the size of the top of a tumbler, with a
properly adjusted pad (made from the plaster) fastened on the center
of the plaster, which will effectually keep up the rupture, and in a few
weeks will cure it. It will be necessary, from time to time, to renew
the plaster until the cure be effected. These plasters will be found
both more efficacious and pleasant than either a truss or an elastic
bandage; which latter appliances sometimes gall, and do more harm
than they do good.
20. If a child has a groin rupture (an inguinal rupture), can that
also be cured?
Certainly, if, soon after birth, it be properly attended to. Consult a
medical man, and he will supply you with a well-fitting truss, which
will eventually cure him. If the truss be properly made (under the
directions of an experienced surgeon) by a skillful surgical-
instrument maker, a beautiful, nicely fitting truss will be supplied,
which will take the proper and exact curve of the lower part of the
infant’s belly, and will thus keep on without using any under-strap
whatever—a great desideratum, as these under-straps are so
constantly wetted and soiled as to endanger the patient constantly
catching cold. But if this under-strap is to be superseded, the truss
must be made exactly to fit the child—to fit him like a ribbon; which
is a difficult thing to accomplish, unless it be fashioned by a skillful
workman. It is only lately that these trusses have been made without
under-straps. Formerly the under-straps were indispensable
necessaries.
These groin ruptures require great attention and supervision, as
the rupture (the bowel) must, before putting on the truss, be
cautiously and thoroughly returned into the belly; and much care
should be used to prevent the chafing and galling of the tender skin
of the babe, which an ill-fitting truss would be sure to occasion. But if
care and skill be bestowed on the case, a perfect cure might in due
time be insured. The truss must not be discontinued until a perfect
cure be effected.
Let me strongly urge you to see that my advice is carried out to the
very letter, as a groin rupture can only be cured in infancy and in
childhood. If it be allowed to run on, unattended to, until adult age,
he will be obliged to wear a truss all his life, which would be a great
annoyance and a perpetual irritation to him.
 CLOTHING.

21. Is it necessary to have a flannel cap in readiness to put on as

soon as a babe is born?
Sir Charles Locock considers that a flannel cap is not necessary,
and asserts that all his best nurses have long discarded flannel caps.
Sir Charles states that since the discontinuance of flannel caps
infants have not been more liable to inflammation of the eyes.
Such authority is, in my opinion, conclusive. My advice, therefore,
to you is, by all means discontinue the use of flannel caps.
22. What kind of a belly-band do you recommend—a flannel or a
calico one?
I prefer flannel, for two reasons—first, on account of its keeping
the child’s bowels comfortably warm; and, secondly, because of its
not chilling him (and thus endangering cold, etc.) when he wets
himself. The belly-band ought to be moderately but not tightly
applied, as, if tightly applied, it would interfere with the necessary
movements of the bowels.
23. When should the belly-band be discontinued?
When the child is two or three months old. The best way of leaving
it off is to tear a strip off daily for a few mornings, and then to leave it
off altogether. “Nurses who take charge of an infant when the
monthly nurse leaves are frequently in the habit of at once leaving off
the belly-band, which often leads to ruptures when the child cries or
strains. It is far wiser to retain it too long than too short a time; and
when a child catches hooping-cough while still very young, it is safer
to resume the belly-band.” [Communicated by Sir Charles Locock to
the Author.]
24. Have you any remarks to make on the clothing of an infant?
A baby’s clothing ought to be light, warm, loose, and free from
pins. (1.) It should be light, without being too airy. Many infants’
clothes are both too long and too cumbersome. It is really painful to
see how some poor little babies are weighed down with a weight of
clothes. They may be said to “bear the burden,” and that a heavy one,
from the very commencement of their lives! How absurd, too, the
practice of making them wear long clothes. Clothes to cover a child’s
feet, and even a little beyond, may be desirable; but for clothes, when
the infant is carried about, to reach to the ground, is foolish and cruel
in the extreme. I have seen a delicate baby almost ready to faint
under the infliction. (2.) It should be warm, without being too warm.
The parts that ought to be kept warm are the chest, the bowels, and
the feet. If the infant be delicate, especially if he be subject to
inflammation of the lungs, he ought to wear a fine flannel, instead of
his usual shirts, which should be changed as frequently. (3.) The
dress should be loose, so as to prevent any pressure upon the blood-
vessels, which would otherwise impede the circulation, and thus
hinder a proper development of the parts. It ought to be loose about
the chest and waist, so that the lungs and the heart may have free
play. It should be loose about the stomach, so that digestion may not
be impeded; it ought to be loose about the bowels, in order that the
spiral motion of the intestines may not be interfered with; hence the
importance of putting on a belly-band moderately slack; it should be
loose about the sleeves, so that the blood may course, without let or
hindrance, through the arteries and veins; it ought to be loose, then,
everywhere, for nature delights in freedom from restraint, and will
resent, sooner or later, any interference. Oh that a mother would
take common sense, and not custom, as her guide! (4.) As few pins
should be used in the dressing of a baby as possible. Inattention to
this advice has caused many a little sufferer to be thrown into
convulsions.
The generality of mothers use no pins in the dressing of their
children; they tack with a needle and thread every part that requires
fastening. They do not even use pins to fasten the baby’s napkins.
They make the diapers with loops and tapes, and thus altogether
supersede the use of pins in the dressing of an infant. The plan is a
good one, takes very little extra time, and deserves to be universally
adopted. If pins be used for the napkins, they ought to be the Patent
Safety Pins.
 25. Is there any necessity for a nurse being particular in airing an
infant’s clothes before they are put on? If she were less particular,
would it not make him more hardy?
A nurse cannot be too particular on this head. A baby’s clothes
ought to be well aired the day before they are put on, as they should
not be put on warm from the fire. It is well, where it can be done, to
let him have clean clothes daily. Where this cannot be afforded, the
clothes, as soon as they are taken off at night, ought to be well aired,
so as to free them from the perspiration, and that they may be ready
to put on the following morning. It is truly nonsensical to endeavor
to harden a child, or any one else, by putting on damp clothes!
26. What is your opinion of caps for an infant?
The head ought to be kept cool; caps, therefore, are unnecessary. If
caps be used at all, they should only be worn for the first month in
summer, or for the first two or three months in winter. If a babe take
to caps, it requires care in leaving them off, or he will catch cold.
When you are about discontinuing them, put a thinner and a thinner
one on, every time they are changed, until you leave them off
altogether.
But remember, my opinion is, that a child is better without caps;
they only heat his head, cause undue perspiration, and thus make
him more liable to catch cold.
If a babe does not wear a cap in the day, it is not at all necessary
that he should wear one at night. He will sleep more comfortably
without one, and it will be better for his health. Moreover, night-caps
injure both the thickness and the beauty of the hair.
27. Have you any remarks to make on the clothing of an infant,
when, in the winter time, he is sent out for exercise?
Be sure that he is well wrapped up. He ought to have under his
cloak a knitted worsted spencer, which should button behind; and if
the weather be very cold, a shawl over all; and, provided it be dry
above, and the wind be not in the east or in the northeast, he may
then brave the weather. He will then come from his walk refreshed
and strengthened, for cold air is an invigorating tonic. In a
subsequent conversation I will indicate the proper age at which a
child should be first sent out to take exercise in the open air.
28. At what age ought an infant “to be shortened?”
 This, of course, will depend upon the season. In the summer, the
right time “for shortening a babe,” as it is called, is at the end of two
months; in the winter, at the end of three months. But if the right
time for “shortening” a child should happen to be in the spring, let it
be deferred until the end of May. The English springs are very trying
and treacherous; and sometimes, in April, the weather is almost as
cold, and the wind as biting, as in winter. It is treacherous, for the
sun is hot, and the wind, which is at this time of the year frequently
easterly, is keen and cutting. I should far prefer “to shorten” a child
in the winter than in the early spring.
 DIET.

29. Are you an advocate for putting a baby to the breast soon
after birth, or for waiting, as many do, until the third day?
The infant ought to be put to the breast soon after birth; the
interest, both of the mother and of the child, demands it. It will be
advisable to wait three or four hours, that the mother may recover
from her fatigue; and then the babe must be put to the breast. If this
be done, he will generally take the nipple with avidity.
It might be said that at so early a period there is no milk in the
breast; but such is not usually the case. There generally is a little
from the very beginning; which acts on the baby’s bowels like a dose
of purgative medicine, and appears to be intended by nature to
cleanse the system. But, provided there be no milk at first, the very
act of sucking not only gives the child a notion, but, at the same time,
causes a draught (as it is usually called) in the breast, and enables the
milk to flow easily.
Of course, if there be no milk in the breast—the babe having been
applied once or twice to determine the fact—then you must wait for a
few hours before applying him again to the nipple, that is to say, until
the milk be secreted.
An infant who, for two or three days, is kept from the breast, and
who is fed upon gruel, generally becomes feeble, and frequently, at
the end of that time, will not take the nipple at all. Besides, there is a
thick cream (similar to the biestings of a cow), which, if not drawn
out by the child, may cause inflammation and gathering of the
bosom, and, consequently, great suffering to the mother. Moreover,
placing him early to the breast moderates the severity of the
mother’s after-pains, and lessens the risk of her flooding. A new-born
babe must not have gruel given to him, as it disorders the bowels,
causes a disinclination to suck, and thus makes him feeble.
 30. If an infant show any disinclination to suck, or if he appear
unable to apply his tongue to the nipple, what ought to be done?
Immediately call the attention of the medical man to the fact, in
order that he may ascertain whether he be tongue-tied. If he be, the
simple operation of dividing the bridle of the tongue will remedy the
defect, and will cause him to take the nipple with ease and comfort.
31. Provided there be no milk AT FIRST, what ought then to be
done?
Wait with patience: the child (if the mother has no milk) will not,
for at least twelve hours, require artificial food. In the generality of
instances, then, artificial food is not at all necessary; but if it should
be needed, one-third of new milk and two-thirds of warm water,
slightly sweetened with loaf sugar (or with brown sugar, if the babe’s
bowels have not been opened), should be given, in small quantities at
a time, every four hours, until the milk be secreted, and then it must
be discontinued. The infant ought to be put to the nipple every four
hours, but not oftener, until he be able to find nourishment.
If, after the application of the child for a few times, he is unable to
find nourishment, then it will be necessary to wait until the milk be
secreted. As soon as it is secreted, he must be applied, with great
regularity, alternately to each breast.
I say alternately to each breast. This is most important advice.
Sometimes a child, for some inexplicable reason, prefers one breast
to the other, and the mother, to save a little contention, concedes the
point, and allows him to have his own way. And what is frequently
the consequence?—a gathered breast!
We frequently hear of a babe having no notion of sucking. This “no
notion” may generally be traced to bad management, to stuffing him
with food, and thus giving him a disinclination to take the nipple at
all.
32. How often should a mother suckle her infant?
A mother generally suckles her baby too often, having him almost
constantly at the breast. This practice is injurious both to parent and
to child. The stomach requires repose as much as any other part of
the body; and how can it have it if it be constantly loaded with
breast-milk? For the first month, he ought to be suckled about every
hour and a half; for the second month, every two hours,—gradually
increasing, as he becomes older, the distance of time between, until
at length he has it about every four hours.
If a baby were suckled at stated periods, he would only look for the
bosom at those times, and be satisfied. A mother is frequently in the
habit of giving the child the breast every time he cries, regardless of
the cause. The cause too frequently is, that he has been too often
suckled—his stomach has been overloaded; the little fellow is
constantly in pain, and he gives utterance to it by cries. How absurd
is such a practice! We may as well endeavor to put out a fire by
feeding it with fuel. An infant ought to be accustomed to regularity in
every thing—in times for suckling, for sleeping, etc. No children
thrive so well as those who are thus early taught.
33. Where the mother is MODERATELY strong, do you advise that
the infant should have any other food than the breast?
Artificial food must not, for the first three or four months, be
given, if the parent be moderately strong; of course, if she be feeble,
a little food will be necessary. Many delicate women enjoy better
health while suckling than at any other period of their lives.
34. What food is the best substitute for a mother’s milk?
The food that suits one infant will not agree with another. (1.) The
one that I have found the most generally useful, is made as follows:
Boil the crumb of bread for two hours in water, taking particular care
that it does not burn; then add only a little lump sugar (or brown
sugar, if the bowels be costive), to make it palatable. When he is five
or six months old, mix a little new milk—the milk of ONE cow—with
it, gradually, as he becomes older, increasing the quantity until it be
nearly all milk, there being only enough water to boil the bread; the
milk should be poured boiling hot on the bread. Sometimes the two
milks—the mother’s and the cow’s milk—do not agree; when such is
the case, let the milk be left out, both in this and in the foods
following, and let the food be made with water instead of with milk
and water. In other respects, until the child is weaned, let it be made
as above directed; when he is weaned, good fresh cow’s milk MUST, as
previously recommended, be used. (2.) Or, cut thin slices of bread
into a basin, cover the bread with cold water, place it in an oven for
two hours to bake; take it out, beat the bread up with a fork, and then
slightly sweeten it. This is an excellent food. (3.) If the above should
not agree with the infant (although, if properly made, they almost
invariably do), “tous-les-mois” may be given. (4.) Or, Robb’s Biscuit,
as it is “among the best bread compounds made out of wheat-flour,
and is almost always readily digested.”—Routh. “Tous-les-mois” is
the starch obtained from the tuberous roots of various species of
canna; and is imported from the West Indies. It is very similar to
arrow-root. I suppose it is called “tous-les-mois,” as it is good to be
eaten all the year round.
(5.) Another good food is the following: Take about a pound of
flour, put it in a cloth, tie it up tightly, place it in a saucepanful of
water, and let it boil for four or five hours; then take it out, peel off
the outer rind, and the inside will be found quite dry, which grate.
(6.) Another way of preparing an infant’s food, is to bake flour—
biscuit flour—in a slow oven, until it be of a light fawn color. (7.) An
excellent food for a baby, is baked crumbs of bread. The manner of
preparing it is as follows: Crumb some bread on a plate; put it a little
distance from the fire to dry. When dry, rub the crumbs in a mortar,
and reduce them to a fine powder; then pass them through a sieve.
Having done which, put the crumbs of bread into a slow oven, and let
them bake until they be of a light fawn color. A small quantity either
of the boiled, or of the baked flour, or of the baked crumb of bread,
ought to be made into food in the same way as gruel is made, and
should then be slightly sweetened, according to the state of the
bowels, either with lump or with brown sugar.
(8.) Baked flour sometimes produces constipation; when such is
the case, Mr. Appleton of Budleigh Salterton, Devon, wisely
recommends a mixture of baked flour and prepared oatmeal, in the
proportion of two of the former and one of the latter. He says: “To
avoid the constipating effects, I have always had mixed, before
baking, one part of prepared oatmeal with two parts of flour; this
compound I have found both nourishing, and regulating to the
bowels. One tablespoonful of it, mixed with a quarter of a pint of
milk, or milk and water, when well boiled, flavored, and sweetened
with white sugar, produces a thick, nourishing, and delicious food for
infants or invalids.” He goes on to remark: “I know of no food, after
repeated trials, that can be so strongly recommended by the
profession to all mothers in the rearing of their infants, without or
with the aid of the breast, at the same time relieving them of much
draining and dragging while nursing with an insufficiency of milk, as
baked flour and oatmeal.” If there is any difficulty in obtaining
prepared oatmeal, Robertson’s Patent Groats will answer equally as
well.
(9.) A ninth food may be made with “Farinaceous Food for Infants,
prepared by Hards of Dartford.” If Hards’ Farinaceous Food
produces costiveness—as it sometimes does—let it be mixed either
with equal parts or with one-third of Robertson’s Patent Groats. The
mixture of the two together makes a splendid food for a baby. (10.) A
tenth, and an excellent one, may be made with rusks, boiled for an
hour in water, which ought then to be well beaten up by means of a
fork, and slightly sweetened with lump sugar. Great care should be
taken to select good rusks, as few articles vary so much in quality.
(11.) An eleventh is—the top crust of a baker’s loaf, boiled for an hour
in water, and then moderately sweetened with lump sugar. If, at any
time, the child’s bowels should be costive, raw must be substituted
for lump sugar. (12.) Another capital food for an infant, is that made
by Lemann’s Biscuit Powder. (13.) Or, Brown and Polson’s Patent
Corn Flour will be found suitable. The Queen’s cook, in his recent
valuable work, gives the following formula for making it: “To one
dessertspoonful of Brown & Polson, mixed with a wineglassful of
cold water, add half a pint of boiling water; stir over the fire for five
minutes; sweeten lightly, and feed the baby; but if the infant is being
brought up by the hand, this food should then be mixed with milk—
not otherwise.”
(14.) The following is a good and nourishing food for a baby: Soak,
for an hour, some best rice in cold water; strain, and add fresh water
to the rice; then let it simmer till it will pulp through a sieve; put the
pulp and the water in a saucepan, with a lump or two of sugar, and
again let it simmer for a quarter of an hour; a portion of this should
be mixed with one-third of fresh milk, so as to make it of the
consistence of good cream.
When the baby is five or six months old, new milk should be added
to any of the above articles of food, in a similar way to that
recommended for boiled bread.
(15.) For a delicate infant, lentil powder, better known as Du
Barry’s “Revalenta Arabica,” is invaluable. It ought to be made into
food, with new milk, in the same way that arrow-root is made, and
should be moderately sweetened with loaf sugar. Whatever food is
selected ought to be given by means of a nursing-bottle.
If a child’s bowels be relaxed and weak, or if the motions be
offensive, the milk must be boiled. The following (16.) is a good food
when an infant’s bowels are weak and relaxed: “Into five large
spoonfuls of the purest water rub smooth one dessertspoonful of fine
flour. Set over the fire five spoonfuls of new milk, and put two bits of
sugar into it; the moment it boils, pour it into the flour and water,
and stir it over a slow fire twenty minutes.”
Where there is much emaciation, I have found (17.) genuine arrow-
root a very valuable article of food for an infant, as it contains a great
deal of starch, which starch helps to form fat and to evolve caloric
(heat)—both of which a poor, emaciated, chilly child stands so much
in need of. It must be made with good fresh milk, and ought to be
slightly sweetened with loaf sugar; a small pinch of table salt should
be added to it.
I have given you a large and well-tried infant’s dietary to choose
from, as it is sometimes difficult to fix on one that will suit; but
remember, if you find one of the above to agree, keep to it, as a baby
requires a simplicity in food—a child a greater variety.
Let me, in this place, insist upon the necessity of great care and
attention being observed in the preparation of any of the above
articles of diet. A babe’s stomach is very delicate, and will revolt at
either ill-made, or lumpy, or burnt food. Great care ought to be
observed as to the cleanliness of the cooking utensils. The above
directions require the strict supervision of the mother.
Broths have been recommended, but, for my own part, I think
that, for a young infant, they are objectionable; they are apt to turn
acid on the stomach, and to cause flatulence and sickness; they
sometimes disorder the bowels and induce griping and purging.
Whatever artificial food is used ought to be given by means of a
bottle, not only as it is a more natural way than any other of feeding a
baby, as it causes him to suck as though he were drawing it from the
mother’s breast, but as the act of sucking causes the salivary glands
to press out their contents, which materially assists digestion.
Moreover, it seems to satisfy and comfort him more than it otherwise
would do.
 The food ought to be of the consistence of good cream, and should
be made fresh and fresh. It ought to be given milk-warm. Attention
must be paid to the cleanliness of the vessel, and care should be
taken that the milk be that of ONE cow, and that it be new and of good
quality; for if not, it will turn acid and sour, and disorder the
stomach, and will thus cause either flatulence or looseness of the
bowels, or perhaps convulsions. I consider it to be of immense
importance to the infant, that the milk be had from ONE cow. A writer
in the Medical Times and Gazette, speaking on this subject, makes
the following sensible remarks: “I do not know if a practice common
among French ladies, when they do not nurse, has obtained the
attention among ourselves which it seems to me to deserve. When
the infant is to be fed with cow milk, that from various cows is
submitted to examination by the medical man, and, if possible, tried
on some child, and when the milk of any cow has been chosen, no
other milk is ever suffered to enter the child’s lips, for a French lady
would as soon offer to her infant’s mouth the breasts of half-a-dozen
wet-nurses in the day, as mix together the milk of various cows,
which must differ even as the animals themselves, in its constituent
qualities. Great attention is also paid to the pasture, or other food of
the cow thus appropriated.”
The only way to be sure of having it from one cow, is (if you have
not a cow of your own) to have the milk from a respectable cow-
keeper, and to have it brought to your house in a can of your own
(the London milk-cans being the best for the purpose). The better
plan is to have two cans and to have the milk fresh, and fresh every
night and morning. The cans, after each time of using, ought to be
scalded out; and, once a week, the can should be filled with cold
water, and the water should be allowed to remain in it until the can
be again required.
Very little sugar should be used in the food, as much sugar
weakens the digestion. A small pinch of table salt ought to be added
to whatever food is given, as “the best savor is salt.” Salt is most
wholesome—it strengthens and assists digestion, prevents the
formation of worms, and, in small quantities, may with advantage be
given (if artificial food be used) to the youngest baby.
35. Where it is found to be absolutely necessary to give an infant
artificial food WHILE SUCKLING, how often ought he to be fed?
 Not oftener than twice during the twenty-four hours, and then
only in small quantities at a time, as the stomach requires rest, and
at the same time can manage to digest a little food better than it can
a great deal.
Let me again urge upon you the importance, if it be at all
practicable, of keeping the child entirely to the breast for the first
three or four months of his existence. Remember there is no real
substitute for a mother’s milk; there is no food so well adapted to his
stomach; there is no diet equal to it in developing muscle, in making
bone, or in producing that beautiful plump rounded contour of the
limbs; there is nothing like a mother’s milk alone in making a child
contented and happy, in laying the foundation of a healthy
constitution, in preparing the body for a long life, in giving him tone
to resist disease, or in causing him to cut his teeth easily and well; in
short, the mother’s milk is the greatest temporal blessing an infant
can possess.
As a general rule, therefore, when the child and the mother are
tolerably strong, he is better without artificial food until he has
attained the age of three or four months; then it will usually be
necessary to feed him twice a day, so as gradually to prepare him to
be weaned (if possible) at the end of nine months. The food
mentioned in the foregoing conversation will be the best for him,
commencing without the cow’s milk, but gradually adding it, as less
mother’s milk and more artificial food be given.
36. When the mother is not able to suckle her infant herself, what
ought to be done?
It must first be ascertained, beyond all doubt, that a mother is not
able to suckle her own child. Many delicate ladies do suckle their
infants with advantage, not only to their offspring, but to themselves.
“I will maintain,” says Steele, “that the mother grows stronger by it,
and will have her health better than she would have otherwise. She
will find it the greatest cure and preservative for the vapors
[nervousness] and future miscarriages, much beyond any other
remedy whatsoever. Her children will be like giants, whereas
otherwise they are but living shadows, and like unripe fruit; and
certainly if a woman is strong enough to bring forth a child, she is
beyond all doubt strong enough to nurse it afterward.”
 Many mothers are never so well as when they are nursing; besides,
suckling prevents a lady from becoming pregnant so frequently as
she otherwise would. This, if she be delicate, is an important
consideration, and more especially if she be subject to miscarry. The
effects of a miscarriage are far more weakening than those of
suckling.
A hireling, let her be ever so well inclined, can never have the
affection and unceasing assiduity of a mother, and, therefore, cannot
perform the duties of suckling with equal advantage to the baby.
The number of children who die under five years of age is
enormous—many of them from the want of the mother’s milk. There
is a regular “parental baby slaughter”—“a massacre of the
innocents”—constantly going on in England, in consequence of
infants being thus deprived of their proper nutriment and just dues!
The mortality from this cause is frightful, chiefly, occurring among
rich people who are either too grand, or, from luxury, too delicate, to
perform such duties: poor married women, as a rule, nurse their own
children, and, in consequence, reap their reward.
If it be ascertained, past all doubt, that a mother cannot suckle her
child, then, if the circumstances of the parents will allow—and they
ought to strain a point to accomplish it—a healthy wet-nurse should
be procured, as, of course, the food which nature has supplied is far,
very far superior to any invented by art.
Never bring up a baby, then, if you can possibly avoid it, on
artificial food. Remember, as I proved in a former conversation,
there is in early infancy no real substitute for either a mother’s or a
wet-nurse’s milk. It is impossible to imitate the admirable and subtle
chemistry of nature. The law of nature is, that a baby, for the first few
months of his existence, shall be brought up by the breast; and
nature’s law cannot be broken with impunity. For further reasons
why artificial food is not desirable at an early period of infancy, see
answer to 35th question. It will be imperatively necessary, then—
“To give to nature what is nature’s due.”

Again, in case of a severe illness occurring during the first nine

months of a child’s life, what a comfort either the mother’s or the
wet-nurse’s milk is to him! it often determines whether he shall live
or die.
But if a wet-nurse cannot fill the place of a mother, then, asses’
milk will be found the best substitute, as it approaches nearer, in
composition, than any other animal’s, to human milk; but it is both
difficult and expensive to obtain. The next best substitute is goats’
milk. Either the one or the other ought to be milked fresh and fresh,
as it is wanted, and should be given by means of a feeding-bottle.
Asses’ milk is more suitable for delicate infants, and goats’ milk for
those who are strong.
If neither asses’ milk nor goats’ milk can be procured, then the
following from the very commencement should be given:
New milk, the produce of ONE healthy cow,
Warm water, of each, equal parts;
Table salt, a few grains;
Lump sugar, a sufficient quantity to slightly sweeten it.

Liebig, the great chemist, asserts that a small quantity of table salt to
the food is essential to the health of children. The milk itself ought
not to be heated over the fire, but should, as above directed, be
warmed by the water; it must, morning and evening, be had fresh
and fresh. It now and then happens that if the milk be not boiled, the
motions of an infant are offensive; when such is the case let the milk
be boiled, but not otherwise. The milk and water should be of the
same temperature as the mother’s milk, that is to say, at about ninety
to ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit. It ought to be given by means of a
feeding-bottle, and care must be taken to scald the bottle out twice a
day, for if attention be not paid to this point the delicate stomach of
an infant is soon disordered. As he grows older the milk should be
gradually increased, and the water decreased, until nearly all milk be
given.
There will, in many cases, be quite sufficient nourishment in the
above; I have known some robust infants brought up on it alone. But
if it should not agree with the child, or if there should not be
sufficient nourishment in it, then the food recommended in answer
to No. 34 question ought to be given, with this only difference—a
little new milk must from the beginning be added, and should be
gradually increased, until nearly all milk be used.
 The milk, as a general rule, ought to be unboiled; but if it purge
violently, or if it cause offensive motions—which it sometimes does—
then it must be boiled. The moment the milk boils up it should be
taken off the fire.
Food ought, for the first month, to be given about every two hours;
for the second month, about every three hours; lengthening the
space of time as the baby advances in age. A mother must be careful
not to over-feed a child, as over-feeding is a prolific source of disease.
Let it be thoroughly understood, and let there be no mistake about
it, that a babe, during the first nine months of his life, MUST have—it
is absolutely necessary for his very existence—milk of some kind, as
the staple and principal article of his diet, either mother’s, or wet-
nurse’s, or asses’, or goat’s, or cow’s own milk.
37. How would you choose a wet-nurse?
I would inquire particularly into the state of her health; whether
she be of a healthy family, or a consumptive habit, or if she or any of
her family have labored under “king’s evil;” ascertaining if there be
any seams or swellings about her neck; any eruptions or blotches
upon her skin; if she has a plentiful breast of milk, and if it be of good
quality (which may readily be ascertained by milking a little into a
glass. “It should be thin, and of a bluish-white color, sweet to the
taste, and when allowed to stand should throw up a considerable
quantity of cream.”—Maunsell and Evertson on the Diseases of
Children.) If she has good nipples, sufficiently long for the baby to
hold; that they be not sore; and if her own child be of the same or
nearly of the same age as the one you wish her to nurse. Ascertain
whether she menstruates during suckling; if she does, the milk is not
so good and nourishing, and you had better decline taking her. Sir
Charles Locock considers that a woman who menstruates during
lactation is objectionable as a wet-nurse, and “that as a mother with
her first child is more liable to that objection, that a second or a third
child’s mother is more eligible than a first.”—Letter to the Author.
Assure yourself that her own babe is strong and healthy, and that he
is free from a sore mouth and from a “breaking-out” of the skin.
Indeed, if it be possible to procure such a wet-nurse, she ought to be
from the country, of ruddy complexion, of clear skin, and of between
twenty and five-and-twenty years of age, as the milk will then be
fresh, pure, and nourishing.
 I consider it to be of great importance that the infant of the wet-
nurse should be, as nearly as possible, of the same age as your own,
as the milk varies in quality according to the age of the child. For
instance, during the commencement of suckling, the milk is thick
and creamy, similar to the biestings of a cow, which, if given to a
babe of a few months old, would cause derangement of the stomach
and bowels. After the first few days, the appearance of the milk
changes; it becomes of a bluish-white color, and contains less
nourishment. The milk gradually becomes more and more
nourishing as the infant becomes older and requires more support.
In selecting a wet-nurse for a very small and feeble babe, you must
carefully ascertain that the nipples of the wet-nurse are good and
soft, and yet not very large: if they be very large, the child’s mouth
being very small, he may not be able to hold them. You must note,
too, whether the milk flows readily from the nipple into the child’s
mouth; if it does not, he may not have strength to draw it, and he
would soon die of starvation. The only way of ascertaining whether
the infant actually draws the milk from the nipple, can be done by
examining the mouth of the child immediately after his taking the
breast, and seeing for yourself whether there be actually milk in his
mouth.
Very feeble new-born babes sometimes cannot take the bosom, be
the nipples and the breasts ever so good. In such a case, cow’s milk
and water, sugar and salt, as recommended at page 45, must be given
in small quantities at a time—from two to four teaspoonfuls—but
frequently; if the child be awake, every hour or every half hour, both
night and day, until he be able to take the breast. If, then, a puny,
feeble babe is only able to take but little at a time, and that little by
teaspoonfuls, he must have little and often, in order that “many a
little might make a mickle.”
I have known many puny, delicate children who had not strength
to hold the nipple in their mouths, but who could take milk and
water (as above recommended) by teaspoonfuls only at a time, with
steady perseverance, and giving it every half hour or hour (according
to the quantity swallowed), at length be able to take the breast, and
eventually become strong and hearty children; but such cases require
unwearied watching, perseverance, and care. Bear in mind, then,
that the smaller the quantity of the milk and water given at a time,
the oftener must it be administered, as, of course, the babe must
have a certain quantity of food to sustain life.
38. What ought to be the diet either of a wet-nurse, or of a mother
who is suckling?
It is a common practice to cram a wet-nurse with food, and to give
her strong ale to drink, to make good nourishment and plentiful
milk! This practice is absurd; for it either, by making the nurse
feverish, makes the milk more sparing than usual, or it causes the
milk to be gross and unwholesome. On the other hand, we must not
run into an opposite extreme. The mother, or the wet-nurse, by using
those means most conducive to her own health, will best advance the
interest of her little charge.
A wet-nurse ought to live somewhat in the following way: Let her
for breakfast have black tea, with one or two slices of cold meat, if
her appetite demand it, but not otherwise. It is customary for a wet-
nurse to make a hearty luncheon; of this I do not approve. If she feel
either faint or low at eleven o’clock, let her have either a tumbler of
porter, or of mild fresh ale, with a piece of dry toast soaked in it. She
ought not to dine later than half-past one or two o’clock; she should
eat, for dinner, either mutton or beef, with either mealy potatoes, or
asparagus, or French beans, or secale, or turnips, or brocoli, or
cauliflower, and stale bread. Rich pastry, soups, gravies, high-
seasoned dishes, salted meats, greens, and cabbage must one and all
be carefully avoided, as they only tend to disorder the stomach, and
thus to deteriorate the milk.
It is a common remark, that “a mother who is suckling may eat
anything.” I do not agree with this opinion. Can impure or improper
food make pure and proper milk, or can impure or improper milk
make good blood for an infant, and thus good health?
The wet-nurse ought to take with her dinner a moderate quantity
of either sound porter, or of mild (but not old or strong) ale. Tea
should be taken at half-past five or six o’clock; supper at nine, which
should consist either of a slice or two of cold meat, or of cheese if she
prefer it, with half a pint of porter or of mild ale; occasionally, a basin
of gruel may with advantage be substituted. Hot and late suppers are
prejudicial to the mother or to the wet-nurse, and, consequently, to
the child. The wet-nurse ought to be in bed every night by ten
o’clock.
 It might be said that I have been too minute and particular in my
rules for a wet-nurse; but when it is considered of what importance
good milk is to the well-doing of an infant, in making him strong and
robust, not only now, but as he grows up to manhood, I shall, I trust,
be excused for my prolixity.
39. Have you any more hints to offer with regard to the
management of a wet-nurse?
A wet-nurse is frequently allowed to remain in bed until a late
hour in the morning, and during the day to continue in the house, as
if she were a fixture! How is it possible that any one, under such
treatment, can continue healthy?
A wet-nurse ought to rise early, and, if the weather and season will
permit, take a walk, which will give her an appetite for breakfast and
will make a good meal for her little charge. This, of course, cannot,
during the winter months, be done; but even then, she ought, some
part of the day, to take every opportunity of walking out; indeed, in
the summer time she should live half the day in the open air.
She ought strictly to avoid crowded rooms; her mind should be
kept calm and unruffled, as nothing disorders the milk so much as
passion and other violent emotions of the mind; a fretful temper is
very injurious, on which account you should, in choosing your wet-
nurse, endeavor to procure one of a mild, calm, and placid
disposition.
“The child is poisoned.”
“Poisoned! by whom?”
“By you. You have been fretting.”
“Nay, indeed, mother. How can I help fretting?”
“Don’t tell me, Margaret. A nursing mother has no business to fret. She must
turn her mind away from her grief to the comfort that lies in her lap. Know you not
that the child pines if the mother vexes herself?”—The Cloister and the Hearth. By
Charles Reade.
A wet-nurse ought never to be allowed to dose her little charge
either with Godfrey’s Cordial, or with Dalby’s Carminative, or with
Syrup of White Poppies, or with medicine of any kind whatever. Let
her thoroughly understand this, and let there be no mistake in the
matter. Do not, for one moment, allow your children’s health to be
tampered and trifled with. A baby’s health is too precious to be
doctored, to be experimented upon, and to be ruined by an ignorant
person.
40. Have the goodness to state at what age a child ought to be
weaned?
This, of course, must depend both upon the strength of the child
and upon the health of the parent; on an average, nine months is the
proper time. If the mother be delicate it may be found necessary to
wean the infant at six months; or if he be weak, or laboring under
any disease, it may be well to continue suckling him for twelve
months; but after that time the breast will do him more harm than
good, and will, moreover, injure the mother’s health, and may, if she
be so predisposed, excite consumption.
41. How would you recommend a mother to act when she weans
her child?
She ought, as the word signifies, do it gradually—that is to say, she
should, by degrees, give him less and less of the breast, and more and
more of artificial food; at length she must only suckle him at night;
and lastly, it would be well for the mother either to send him away,
or to leave him at home, and, for a few days, to go away herself.
A good plan is, for the nurse-maid to have a half-pint bottle of new
milk—which has been previously boiled—in the bed, so as to give a
little to him in lieu of the breast. The previous boiling of the milk will
prevent the warmth of the bed turning the milk sour, which it would
otherwise do. The warmth of the body will keep the milk of a proper
temperature, and will supersede the use of lamps, of candle-frames,
and other troublesome contrivances.
42. While a mother is weaning her infant, and after she has
weaned him, what ought to be his diet?
Any one of the foods recommended in answer to question 34, page
36.
43. If a child be suffering severely from “wind,” is there any
objection to the addition of a small quantity either of gin or of
peppermint to his food to disperse it?
It is a murderous practice to add either gin or peppermint of the
shops (which is oil of peppermint dissolved in spirits) to his food.
Many children have, by such a practice, been made puny and
delicate, and have gradually dropped into an untimely grave. An
infant who is kept, for the first three or four months, entirely to the
breast—more especially if the mother be careful in her own diet—
seldom suffers from “wind;” those, on the contrary, who have much
or improper food, suffer severely. For the first three or four months
never, if you can possibly avoid it, give artificial food to an infant who
is sucking. There is nothing, in the generality of cases, that agrees,
for the first few months, like the mother’s milk alone.
Care in feeding, then, is the grand preventive of “wind;” but if,
notwithstanding all your precautions, the child be troubled with
flatulence, the remedies recommended under the head of Flatulence
will generally answer the purpose.
44. Have you any remarks to make on sugar for sweetening a
baby’s food?
A small quantity of sugar in an infant’s food is requisite, sugar
being nourishing and fattening, and making cows’ milk to resemble
somewhat in its properties human milk; but, bear in mind, it must be
used sparingly. Much sugar cloys the stomach, weakens the
digestion, produces acidity, sour belchings, and wind.
If a baby’s bowels be either regular or relaxed, lump sugar is the
best for the purpose of sweetening his food; if his bowels are inclined
to be costive, brown sugar ought to be substituted for lump sugar, as
brown sugar acts on a young babe as an aperient, and, in the
generality of cases, is far preferable to physicking him with opening
medicine. An infant’s bowels, whenever it be practicable (and it
generally is), ought to be regulated by a judicious dietary rather than
by physic.
 VACCINATION.

45. Are you an advocate for vaccination?

Certainly. I consider it to be one of the greatest blessings ever
conferred upon mankind. Small-pox, before vaccination was
adopted, ravaged the country like a plague, and carried off thousands
annually; and those who did escape with their lives were frequently
made loathsome and disgusting objects by it. Even inoculation
(which is cutting for the small-pox) was attended with danger—more
especially to the unprotected—as it caused the disease to spread like
wildfire, and thus it carried off immense numbers.
Vaccination is one and an important cause of our increasing
population; small-pox, in olden times, decimated the country.
46. But vaccination does not always protect a child from small-
pox?
I grant you that it does not always protect him, neither does
inoculation; but when he is vaccinated, if he take the infection, he is
seldom pitted, and very rarely dies, and the disease assumes a
comparatively mild form. There are a few, very few fatal cases
recorded after vaccination, and these may be considered as only
exceptions to the general rule; and, possibly some of these may be
traced to the arm, when the child was vaccinated, not having taken
proper effect.
If children and adults were revaccinated,—say every seven years
after the first vaccination,—depend upon it, even these rare cases
would not occur, and in a short time small-pox would only be known
by name.
47. Do you consider it, then, the imperative duty of a mother in
every case to have, after the lapse of every seven years, her children
revaccinated?
 I decidedly do; it would be an excellent plan for every person, once
every seven years, to be revaccinated, and even oftener, if small-pox
be rife in the neighborhood. Vaccination, however frequently
performed, can never do the slightest harm, and might do
inestimable good. Small-pox is both a pest and a disgrace, and ought
to be constantly fought and battled with until it is banished (which it
may readily be) the kingdom.
I say that small-pox is a pest; it is worse than the plague, for if not
kept in subjection it is more general—sparing neither young nor old,
rich nor poor, and commits greater ravages than the plague ever did.
Small-pox is a disgrace; it is a disgrace to any civilized land, as there
is no necessity for its presence: if cow-pox were properly and
frequently performed, small-pox would be unknown. Cow-pox is a
weapon to conquer small-pox, and to drive it ignominiously from the
field.
My firm belief then is, that if every person were, every seven
years, duly and properly vaccinated, small-pox might be utterly
exterminated; but as long as there are such lax notions on the
subject, and such gross negligence, the disease will always be
rampant, for the poison of small-pox never slumbers nor sleeps, but
requires the utmost diligence to eradicate it. The great Dr. Jenner,
the discoverer of cow-pox as a preventative of small-pox, strongly
advocated the absolute necessity of every person being revaccinated
once every seven years, or even oftener, if there was an epidemic of
small-pox in the neighborhood.
48. Are you not likely to catch not only the cow-pox, but any other
disease that the child has from whom the matter is taken?
The same objection holds good in cutting for small-pox
(inoculation)—only in a tenfold degree—small-pox being such a
disgusting complaint. Inoculated small-pox frequently produced and
left behind inveterate “breakings-out,” scars, cicatrices, and
indentations of the skin, sore eyes, blindness, loss of eyelashes,
scrofula, deafness—indeed, a long catalogue of loathsome diseases. A
medical man, of course, will be careful to take the cow-pox matter
from a healthy child.
49. Would it not be well to take the matter direct from the cow?
 If a doctor be careful—which, of course, he will be—to take the
matter from a healthy child, and from a well-formed vesicle, I
consider it better than taking it direct from the cow, for the following
reasons: The cow-pox lymph, taken direct from the cow, produces
much more violent symptoms than after it has passed through
several persons; indeed, in some cases, it has produced effects as
severe as cutting for the small-pox; besides, it has caused, in many
cases, violent inflammation and even sloughing of the arm. There are
also several kinds of spurious cow-pox to which the cow is subject,
and which would be likely to be mistaken for the real lymph. Again,
if even the genuine matter were not taken from the cow exactly at
the proper time, it would be deprived of its protecting power.
50. At what age do you recommend an infant to be first
vaccinated?
When he is two months old, as the sooner he is protected the
better. Moreover, the older he is the greater will be the difficulty in
making him submit to the operation, and in preventing his arm from
being rubbed, thus endangering the breaking of the vesicles, and
thereby interfering with its effects. If small-pox be prevalent in the
neighborhood, he may, with perfect safety, be vaccinated at the
month’s end; indeed, if the small-pox be near at hand, he must be
vaccinated, regardless of his age and regardless of everything else,
for small-pox spares neither the young nor the old, and if a new-born
babe should unfortunately catch the disease, he will most likely die,
as at his tender age he would not have strength to battle with such a
formidable enemy. “A case in the General Lying-in-Hospital,
Lambeth, of small-pox occurred in a woman a few days after her
admission and the birth of her child. Her own child was vaccinated
when only four days old, and all the other infants in the house,
varying from one day to a fortnight and more. All took the
vaccination; and the woman’s own child, which suckled her and slept
with her; and all escaped the small-pox.” Communicated by Sir
Charles Locock to the author.
51. Do you consider that the taking of matter from a child’s arm
weakens the effect of vaccination on the system?
Certainly not, provided it has taken effect in more than one place.
The arm is frequently much inflamed, and vaccinating other children
from it abates the inflammation, and thus affords relief. It is always
well to leave one vesicle undisturbed?
52. If the infant has any “breaking-out” upon the skin, ought that
to be a reason for deferring the vaccination?
It should, as two skin diseases cannot well go on together; hence
the cow-pox might not take, or, if it did, might not have its proper
effect in preventing small-pox. “It is essential that the vaccine bud or
germ have a congenial soil, uncontaminated by another poison,
which, like a weed, might choke its healthy growth.” The moment the
skin be free from the breaking-out, he must be vaccinated. A trifling
skin affection, like red gum, unless it be severe, ought not, at the
proper age, to prevent vaccination. If small-pox be rife in the
neighborhood, the child must be vaccinated, regardless of any
“breaking-out” on the skin.
53. Does vaccination make a child poorly?
At about the fifth day after vaccination, and for three or four days,
he is generally a little feverish; the mouth is slightly hot, and he
delights to have the nipple in his mouth. He does not rest so well at
night; he is rather cross and irritable; and, sometimes, has a slight
bowel complaint. The arm, about the ninth or tenth day, is usually
much inflamed—that is to say, it is, for an inch or two or more
around the vesicles, red, hot, and swollen, and continues in this state
for a day or two, at the end of which time the inflammation gradually
subsides. It might be well to state that the above slight symptoms are
desirable, as it proves that the vaccination has had a proper effect on
his system, and that, consequently, he is more likely to be thoroughly
protected from any risk of catching small-pox.
54. Do you approve, either during or after vaccination, of giving
medicine, more especially if he be a little feverish?
No; as it would be likely to work off some of its effects, and thus
would rob the cow-pox of its efficacy on the system. I do not like to
interfere with vaccination in any way whatever (except, at the
proper time, to take a little matter from the arm), but to allow the
pock to have full power upon his constitution.
What do you give the medicine for? If the matter that is put into
the arm be healthy, what need is there of physic? And if the matter
be not of a good quality, I am quite sure that no physic will make it
so! Look, therefore, at the case in whatever way you like, physic after
vaccination is not necessary; but, on the contrary, hurtful. If the
vaccination produce a slight feverish attack it will, without the
administration of a particle of medicine, subside in two or three days.
55. Have you any directions to give respecting the arm AFTER
vaccination?
The only precaution necessary, is to take care that the arm be not
rubbed; otherwise the vesicles may be prematurely broken, and the
efficacy of the vaccination may be lessened. The sleeve, in
vaccination, ought to be large and soft, and should not be tied up.
The tying up of a sleeve makes it hard, and is much more likely to rub
the vesicles than if it were put on in the usual way.
56. If the arm, AFTER vaccination, be much inflamed, what ought
to be done?
Smear frequently, by means of a feather or a camel’s-hair brush, a
little cream on the inflamed part. This simple remedy will afford
great relief and comfort.
57. Have the goodness to describe the proper appearance, after
the falling off of the scab, of the arm?
It might be well to remark that the scabs ought always to be
allowed to fall off of themselves. They must not, on any account, be
picked or meddled with. With regard to the proper appearance of the
arm after the falling off of the scab, “a perfect vaccine scar should be
of small size, circular, and marked with radiations and indentations.”
 DENTITION.

58. At what time does dentition commence?

The period at which it commences is uncertain. It may, as a rule,
be said that a babe begins to cut his teeth at seven months old. Some
have cut teeth at three months; indeed, there are instances on record
of infants having been born with teeth. King Richard the Third is said
to have been an example. Shakspeare notices it thus:
“York.—Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old;
’Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.”
Act 2, sc, 5.

When a babe is born with teeth they generally drop out. On the
other hand, teething in some children does not commence until they
are a year and a half or two years old, and, in rare cases, not until
they are three years old. There are cases recorded of adults who have
never cut any teeth. An instance of the kind came under my own
observation.
Dentition has been known to occur in old age. A case is recorded
by M. Carre, in the Gazette Medicale de Paris (Sept. 15, 1860), of an
old lady, aged eighty-five, who cut several teeth after attaining that
age!
59. What is the number of the FIRST set of teeth, and in what order
do they generally appear?
The first or temporary set consists of twenty. The first set of teeth
are usually cut in pairs. “I may say that nearly invariably the order is
—1st, the lower front incisors [cutting-teeth], then the upper front,
then the upper two lateral incisors, and that not uncommonly a
double tooth is cut before the two lower laterals; but at all events the
lower laterals come 7th and 8th, and not 5th and 6th, as nearly all
books on the subject testify.” [Sir Charles Locock, in a Letter to the
Author.] Then the first grinders in the lower jaw, afterward the first
upper grinders, then the lower corner pointed or canine teeth, after
which the upper corner or eye-teeth, then the second grinders in the
lower jaw, and lastly, the second grinders of the upper jaw. They do
not, of course, always appear in this rotation. Nothing is more
uncertain than the order of teething. A child seldom cuts his second
grinders until after he is two years old. He is usually, from the time
they first appear, two years in cutting his first set of teeth. As a rule,
therefore, a child of two years old has sixteen, and one of two years
and a half old, twenty teeth.
60. If an infant be either feverish or irritable, or otherwise
poorly, and if the gums be hot, swollen, and tender, are you an
advocate for their being lanced?
Certainly; by doing so he will, in the generality of instances, be
almost instantly relieved.
61. But it has been stated that lancing the gums hardens them?
This is a mistake—it has a contrary effect. It is a well-known fact
that a part which has been divided gives way much more readily than
one which has not been cut. Again, the tooth is bound down by a
tight membrane, which, if not released by lancing, frequently brings
on convulsions. If the symptoms be urgent, it may be necessary from
time to time to repeat the lancing.
It would, of course, be the height of folly to lance the gums unless
they be hot and swollen, and unless the tooth or the teeth be near at
hand. It is not to be considered a panacea for every baby’s ill,
although, in those cases where the lancing of the gums is indicated,
the beneficial effect is sometimes almost magical.
62. How ought the lancing of a child’s gums to be performed?
The proper person, of course, to lance his gums is a medical man.
But, if perchance you should be miles away and be out of the reach of
one, it would be well for you to know how the operation ought to be
performed. Well, then, let him lie on the nurse’s lap upon his back,
and let the nurse take hold of his hands, in order that he may not
interfere with the operation.
Then, if it be the upper gum that requires lancing, you ought to go
to the head of the child, looking over, as it were, and into his mouth,
Welcome to our website – the ideal destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. With a mission to inspire endlessly, we offer a
vast collection of books, ranging from classic literary works to
specialized publications, self-development books, and children's
literature. Each book is a new journey of discovery, expanding
knowledge and enriching the soul of the reade

Our website is not just a platform for buying books, but a bridge
connecting readers to the timeless values of culture and wisdom. With
an elegant, user-friendly interface and an intelligent search system,
we are committed to providing a quick and convenient shopping
experience. Additionally, our special promotions and home delivery
services ensure that you save time and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Let us accompany you on the journey of exploring knowledge and

personal growth!

ebooknice.com