A Juvenile Guide, Or, Manual of Good Manners, by Lovers of Youth

Someone entered the room, behind him. Hank made no sudden motion. He didn't want a knife in the back. But the tiny mirror he wore on his signet ring showed him only the figure of a slight red-headed girl with small but well perched tits beneath a casual morning outfit that surely had been born in the shop of a famous couturier in Paris. The Ambassador's daughter. Hank still did not turn. The rampant erection that had taken charge of him, the moment he had thought of lying naked in bed with naked Helen Troy, nuzzling her breasts and losing his pecker in the depths of her cunt, well, he wanted that hard-on to die down. He recalled a lecture on good manners he had had, when a youth, from his ne'er-do-well cousin, a notorious fucker-around-town. "A gentleman," his cousin had told him, may be cunt-hunting around with Woman A, Woman B, Woman C, Woman D, and so forth. But he must never forget the courtesy due his women, no matter how many. Should a gentleman find himself with an erection caused by the remembrance of ecstasy he has shared with Woman A, for example, he must never let Woman B see the bump that hard-on makes in his trousers ...»