Danielle and Uncle Armand

CHAPTER SEVEN

Since the revelation of her sexual destiny, Danielle had sought sensations that were more and more unusual.

What had these aberrant vices brought her which threw her into the arms of young men, an old libertine, and on the thirsty body of a fifteen-year-old virgin whom she had initiated into the Sapphic passions? Nothing except the inextinguishable thirst of her cunt which demanded the unknown to satisfy it.

In her apartment where she received old Edward, who fucked her with all the skill of an old libertine overwhelmed by those gaping cavities into which he plunged his wrinkled cock, she began to dream of sunlit days in charming countries where she might have been able to live and love the beauty of life.

One evening she was so sad, so alone, having realized the uselessness of her existence, that moved by an irresistible desire to search for something she needed, she went out, wrapped up in warm clothes.

The air was cool and she wandered aimlessly through unknown streets, marching straight ahead, lost in morose thoughts. A dense fog obscured her view. At times, other pedestrians brushed past her, wondering where this solitary young woman could be going.

She was still walking, but with a hopeless lowness, without imagining where this nocturnal walk could be leading her.

The city in its night cloak dulled every noise, and even though the humans huddled in their houses were performing their eternally identical occupations, there were still people here and there like herself, alone and without a goal, going towards the unknown in the darkness of the passing hours.

Danielle came out on a little square and there she saw a man's silhouette. He seemed to be waiting by a streetlamp. He was smoking a cigarette. As soon as he noticed the walker in the fog, he called her gently with a warm inflection in his voice that made the young woman stop.

She wanted to put on an act so she took a hanky out of her purse. A brief sound broke the silence of the street then stopped immediately. She had just blown her nose!

The man advanced and was soon in front of the woman.

“Oh, miss! Are you looking for something? You seem lost here! Can I be of any assistance?”

And, since she didn't answer, he added:

“It seems funny to you to be approached by a stranger, doesn't it? Perhaps your mother is looking for you somewhere?”

Irritated by his humorous tone, Danielle moved closer.

“You're impertinent, sir! Do you think I need a nurse?”

“I like this better! I was thinking that a young woman wandering in the night must know what existence is. May I accompany you?”

“No! Don't say anything! We're going in the same direction!”

They walked together. She looked at the man who was walking at her side and smiled to herself, thinking: Well! One of those excited males in quest of good fortune! But he'll be just like the others. A few blows, panting, a spasm that will overcome both of us… yes, and afterward?

But it was simple:

Undressing, dressing, water, soap, the “see you, dear!” the “it was good, wasn't it,” and then the “if only I had known you sooner,” with a little regret that quickly passed, and always the same cunt opening, the receptacle that would receive the human seed.

That was all! Little satisfaction to people who desire something more!

Sometimes you have to know how to be content with a little. That's what these two people were thinking to themselves, people who had not known each other a quarter hour earlier and who were thinking only of the logical outcome of their meeting.

The narrator has great difficulty at times not repeating himself and trying the reader's patience. Wouldn't it be better when one is writing a novel to begin it and finish it something like this:

“They met, embraced, undressed, fucked, came, dressed, parted, and The End!”

The action would pass quickly and we would know immediately if the hero was a man or a mouse!

But, to return to our two walkers who were studying each other, we follow them step by step to their destiny!

Danielle still had her physical obsession, but this was beginning to be dulled, especially since her cunt no longer contracted, having been opened now by the passage of so many pricks.

“My name is Patrick… everyone will tell you that I am very gentle with women. I'm sure we'll understand each other very well. What's your name?”

“Danielle!”

“Tell me, Danielle, what would your reaction be if I offered to take you home with me?”

“With you? But I don't know you! What do you take me for?”

“Listen! When a woman is walking like you all alone in the evening, you don't have to be a genius to guess what she's after! Stop lying, will you!”

“I'm not going to play the prude with you! Let's go to your house! I accept. But I won't stay late.”

“Oh, who's waiting for you? A husband? Children?”

“No! No one is waiting for me! But I have a date with my double! You understand? I need to know myself, to know whether I still have the right to live like others, to hope for happiness, to…”

“You tell me this, but that isn't what I proposed! I'm not a consoler…!”

“Forgive me! I was talking to you the way I often do when I'm alone!”

They continued their walk in the night. The man, already assured of his possession, had taken the young woman's arm. She said nothing.

She was simply trying to get excited, to imagine her thighs opened, with this other body on her warm body, weighing on her and desiring her.

She thought of that hard cock which would push brutally between her cunt walls and which she would feel deep inside her like a flag planted on foreign ground!

She thought that her body was going to be caressed, that her breasts would stiffen, that her belly would feel the trembling of pleasure and then, what excited her to the highest degree, was the memory of that warm liquid that would suddenly flow and which would inundate her completely!

They stood in front of a building whose disturbing silence penetrated them with its mystery.

They entered without making any noise, because he whispered:

“It's the owner, she sleeps poorly. The tiniest noise wakes her up.”

They went up the stairs that led to Patrick's little room. As soon as he was inside, the man put his arm around the girl's waist and kissed her passionately on the chest!

She moaned with joy and let herself fall backward.

He slid his hand under her dress and almost tore her stockings. Danielle closed her eyes at this familiar caress and shivered passionately.

Patrick, proud of the woman's passivity, undid her dress and bra. Then he laid her down on the bed where she stretched out on her back, already opening her thighs. He didn't lose a moment!

He quickly dropped his pants, removed his shoes and without bothering to take off his shirt, ran to the body that was offering itself to his possession.

He lowered her panties and threw them on a chair. Then, without taking time to make himself comfortable, he lay on top of the satiny abdomen and readied himself to penetrate her. Suddenly he stopped and seemed indecisive.

What had happened to him?

He had the humid cavity right under him! All he had to do was gently enter the young woman who was beginning to moan with throaty sighs!

But the action he was about to perform seemed to demand something else besides this momentary exaltation. He had noticed that his partner was trying to use autosuggestion to experience what her gaping cunt needed.

Danielle was determined to feel pleasure and seemed to have become remarkably passive, although she had lost her desire. It seemed as though she would never experience new sensations again!

What did these bodies need so that they would be unanimous in proclaiming their passion in the final spasm?

Patrick was one of those people devoid of scruples who considered the human female to be the vessel of passing pleasure. So, when he saw one of them, inert and holding up her body to receive his semen without deigning to participate in her humble role, he felt an irritability that transported him into a terrifying anger.

“I have the feeling that you don't like this very much,” he said. “What do you need to feel something? A slap, perhaps!”

The young woman didn't seem disposed to allow these sentiments to continue. Even in this advantageous position, she was thinking of those males who had fucked her before! And what was any better about this one? If he could see himself, the bastard, with his cock that he's trying to get in. No, what he wants is to empty his balls. Then he'll give me a disgusted look!

Suddenly Patrick, seeing the state Danielle was in, having no reaction to his caresses, slapped her with all his strength and reddened her cheek! She tried to sit up and get her clothes, not having expected such a demonstration.

“Brute!” she shouted. “Is that what you call love! You don't know me and you hit me as if I've done something!”

“But you didn't do anything! That's why I wanted to stimulate your blood!”

Then, as if pushed by a blindness or an instinctive force which didn't give him time to think, the man began hitting the woman's body.

She gripped his hand to push him away and, grabbing the arm that was around her, she tried to pull it away to escape the man. Her body was turning red and her eyes were wide open, astonished by this unexpected attack, blinking at the passage of the hand that was beating her with such unbelievable savageness!

In a total unconsciousness, consecutive with the wild blows, the young woman no longer defended herself.

Then the man grew calmer as a cold sweat broke out on his temples, and he possessed her violently with all the fury of his exaltation.

She suddenly arched and uttered a long moan! Her blood was circulating faster and her insatiable body clung to this enchanted rivet which held her under the thrust of passion!

The two bodies remained entwined for a long time. She could no longer repulse this big man who fucked her so violently.

He was at the height of his pleasure while he moved gently, then from time to time returned brutally, caressing her everywhere, introducing his finger into her ass, caressing her nipples with his hand which he replaced by his tongue then by his entire warm mouth.

Soon they were moving in unison. Their asses were undulating majestically and their hands left no places untouched. The erect beast squandered his semen without worrying for a moment about where it would end up. What he was searching for was the satisfaction of the desire that had come from the depths of his being, engulfing the nervous afflux of the genetic instinct under its magnetic wave.

And could it have been otherwise? Could the two bodies have been able to delay this outpouring of their fluids, not demand this union necessary to their survival?

We have to experience pleasure. We can't live in ivory towers where the unintelligent individual wastes away and lacks respect for nature.

For the moment, after submitting to an atrociously violent attack and still feeling the effects, the young woman seemed totally exhausted.

Patrick had slid gently along the woman's buttocks and his cock, which had returned to an alarming state, was touching that warm skin which had opened to receive it.

They rested finally, but continued to caress each other. Their intimate parts still had movements of impatience, like little jumps of revolt which indicated that their seed had not been completely used up.

It was very late. They could hear the steps of a few passersby in the street now, hurrying to their homes.

“Do you think that your pleasure equalled mine, darling?” asked Patrick. “I experienced something absolutely divine!”

“Oh, at first I was afraid that you were going to profit by the circumstance to give me an undeserved beating. But I assure you that when you hit me, I immediately felt a desire I've never known before! It's almost as though you knew my nature to have made me come with that dose of sadism!”

The man smiled and said:

“No, I didn't know you, but I didn't doubt that your apparent coldness hid an intense joy that asked only to be externalized. I thought that perhaps you had never had occasion to be beaten. Then I thought: 'If I hit her, she'll be sure to enjoy it.' Was I right?”

“You're a bastard, but I don't hate you for it! Yes, when you took me that way it made me suffer, I wanted to bite you, to tear your flesh, but…”

“Yes,” he continued, “when you felt my prick between your thighs, you stopped reacting and I realized that I had just made you experience a different thing. No one has ever hit you before, have they?”

“No, no one! I have an old man who kneels in front of me so I can take his cock in my hands to caress it…”

“Oh! You have an old man?”

“Yes. He's the one who pays when I need it!”

“Yes, I understand! The lady is being kept! Well, after all, you're right. There are enough 'tricks' around to allow that!”

They weren't moving. Stretched out side by side, the two silent forms had discovered their true selves. Those two bodies owed each other the joy of a wonderful night, of that magnificent spasm that had made them tremble and moan deliciously.

They had had nothing but the thirst of their beings, a thirst that is never quenched, and before the jeers of the unconscious masses, under the hateful eyes of too fertile mothers, the ardent female and the intoxicated male stood in a nudity ready to be welded together to let the excess of their vitality escape.

Soon the hour of separation approached.

“Danielle, we must see each other again! Can I meet you tomorrow? We must pursue our physical ecstasies for I'm certain that we'll be able to give each other every possible pleasure. I promise you that I won't hit you again! Once was enough.”

“I'll see you tomorrow, Patrick,” she said. “I'll be passionate. Anyway,” she added, showing him her cunt bathed in a wonderful liquid, “this belongs to you! Do you want it?”

“Yes, I want it!”

And the man put his lips against the orifice to the garden of delights and breathed a puff of warmth.

During this time, his companion was caressing his cock with an expert hand. But the morning had bathed the windows of the room with its pale light and made them part until their next meeting.

Life was gradually putting its marks on the beautiful girl's body.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The days that followed were not too different for the young woman.

Patrick, “her Patrick,” as she thought of him, had come to her little apartment.

They had possessed each other like the first time, but he had not repeated his act of sadism, seeing the state of passion his partner was in. Then, one foggy night, he disappeared without a word, perhaps having found a more passionate woman.

She was totally discouraged. Thus, after they had filled her with their semen, used her with all their sexual youth, one after another of her lovers disappeared and left her alone with that need to be possessed which penetrated every pore of her skin! Oh, yes. She still had one male left!

And, thinking of him, she had a desire to throw up that made her put her hand on her stomach.

The bastard! The old pig who brought her the residue of his senility, perhaps believing himself unique, was coming soon, because this was his day to caress her woman's flesh with his big, clumsy hands.

She had had enough of this ridiculous game!

She needed a solid man, proud of his cock, to penetrate her deeply while uttering words of love. But that old satyr with his face like a diarrheic rabbit, his silly ears, and his lips opened like a piece of decomposing meat… no! That was too much!

Anyway, she had made her decision! She would get rid of the old man under any pretext.

And as she was thinking this, sitting on the bed, she suddenly heard someone knocking at the door.

“Dear God!” she shouted, looking at herself in the mirror, “there's that pig, Edward!”

“Hello my little pet, how are you? Still in shape? And how are those beautiful little buns?”

As he uttered these little phrases, he put his hand out to touch the fleshy curves which seemed to call him. He heard her answer:

“Mine, bastard! Everything is mine! Don't come to bury your dirty tongue in my sacred places anymore! I've had enough, do you hear, enough!”

The old accountant, already imagining the pleasure this charming body would give him, didn't understand at first.

“But what's wrong with you? A little tired? Yes that's it! Come here and kiss me…”

“Kiss you? You've got a lot of gall! Put my lips on your filthy beak? Oh! That makes me laugh!”

Edward didn't seem to understand any of these words and he was already removing his shirt. He was going to take off the rest of his clothes when she shouted:

“Put your prick away! Don't count on me to make it work any longer! Go back to your old bag again. She'll give you some!”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean that I'm sick of your old body, your wrinkled belly, your rough tongue, of… of… of everything that makes up your… bookkeeping…!”

“My bookkeeping…?”

“Yes! If you know how to count, so do I…! Listen!” she continued, “the money you gave me is really mine, isn't it?”

He sneered:

“Yes, you earned it by the sweat of your thighs…!”

“What's the difference! I'm sick of your opinion and everyone else's! Very well, I've had enough! Yes, I have some money, and let me tell you once and for all: I despise you!”

“But we've spent to many good moments together. Why are you suddenly talking to me like this?”

“Listen, Edward! It's over! I'm through with you! That's clear, isn't it? Understand that and get out! Everything is finished between us and maybe nothing ever started…”

He moved toward-her, his face drawn, his cheeks burning. She looked at him and felt ashamed, if the state of her mind could be called that, ashamed of being the mistress of this human decrepitude.

Now the accountant looked like one of those old, bent, weak little men who have clung to life only through a frightened passion.

“Danielle,” he said in a tremulous voice, “you're not going to abandon me! What will I do without you?”

She burst out laughing cruelly.

“Look at that! Abandonment frightens the gentleman! You bought the pleasure I gave you! You had it! You have to be satisfied! I end the contract between us and send you away!” And she pointed to the door.

He dared to protest! Tears ran down his cheeks. He got on his knees and tried to grab the young woman's dress. His head was shaken with convulsive sobs.

He felt his pleasure escaping him. He was too old to hope for another affair and the money he had put aside during his entire lifetime of working had gone to this slut in such a short time…

“Don't send me away, my little Danielle! Look how unhappy I am! Come kiss me and I'll leave you until you're calmer, then…”

She was exasperated.

“Are you going to get out of here or not?” she cried, pushing him to the door.

He got up, finally realizing that it was over.

He put his shirt on and, without looking at the woman who had stretched out on the bed, he walked down the stairway sighing.

As soon as the old man was gone, Danielle, who was happy with the rapid conclusion which had removed the heavy inert mass that had been tied to her cunt, remembered the pleasures she had felt in the arms of her lovers. Suddenly her apartment seemed empty to her. She felt an uncertain apprehension about her future. Always having to search for a companion, always living in that eternal waiting! But, dear God, for what…?

She got up from the bed, stifled a yawn, and stretched. Then, in her sleepy nudity she walked away from the mirror, but stopped, her eyes wide open, crying an “Oh!” of stupefaction when she saw her body reflected before her.

“That's me,” she said. “Me! That woman who looks so old with the falling breasts and big belly!”

She had an even bigger surprise in store for her when she contemplated her cunt in the mirror. That place which had been caressed by so many fingers, seemed wrinkled, cracked, with the flabby skin that separated the hairs, perhaps trying in a final burst of agony to swallow the voracious mouths that would taste its bitter flavor.

Ten years had passed! Ten long years in which she had taken so much pleasure, in which she had used her body in the most extravagant embraces, and this was the result. She looked at the implacable psyche which seemed to be laughing at her.

The city meant nothing more to her now. She dreamed of leaving it, of going off to sunny countries, joyous horizons.

Oh, to leave this poisoned atmosphere! Not to have to see all the people who are unconscious of their destiny and are insolent and vicious, teaching their children the rigid precepts of enslaving conventions.

“Yes,” she thought, “a little peaceful corner where no one would know who I am. How marvelous it would be to live among simple people!”

And a feeling of nostalgia rose inside her from her distant childhood, the time when her hair floated in the fresh mountain air, when she ran joyously through her native village!

“My poor parents left me the cottage I was born in! They've been dead for two years! But what was wrong with me to give up such a simple and joyous past? It's all those male bastards who spit their venom at me and poisoned me! Oh, if only I had known…”

Yes, if she had known the inanity of everything, she would have stayed in the village with her peers and perhaps she would have been the mother of an admirable family which would have brought happiness and pleasure to one man alone: her husband!

And suddenly Danielle became the little girl she had once been in the memory of flowery fields and seeing the faces of her mother and father. She was carried away by this flood of thoughts and cried a long time.

It felt good to cry and no one seeing her cry like that would have dared to call her a whore. And yet…

“I want to leave without regrets,” she thought several minutes later when she began to rise from her depression.

Without regrets? Could she ever release herself from the indelible imprints left on her by passionate males?

No! It was too late to go back. But she wanted to try this test. Perhaps she would be able to find the serenity she had longed for.

The next day she paid her landlord off and when he asked if she would be gone for long she replied:

“Forever!” Then she took her suitcases and carried them to a taxi. Several curious heads poked out of windows. A neighborhood in a big city has its secret police. All the activities of its inhabitants are known.

“The whore is leaving,” said a young man who had been watching her for a long time without daring to approach her.

“Good riddance,” answered his mother, “one slut less is always nice to see!”

Danielle returned to the village she had left ten years earlier. Everything seemed changed to her. She didn't recognize many of the people. Some had died, others had left the village and gone to the city, hope and tomb of so many country beauties.

She found the cottage she had inherited from her parents in such a state of dilapidation that it hurt her to see it.

As soon as she entered, she went up to her own room. Poor little once-loved room! An odor of dampness came from the walls, from the uncovered bed, from the dusty chairs.

Danielle sat down heavily in a corner, putting her suitcases next to her. She looked around the room and her gaze stopped at a photograph showing her at sixteen.

She was ashamed of that candid face which was no longer hers and she tore it into a thousand pieces.

Then she went to open the windows and saw a vision of paradise in the discovery of the immense fields of wheat, barley, and corn whose frail stems moved gently in the light country breeze.

Farther off, a farmer was seeding his ground, pushing a couple of heavy, massive oxen in front of him. Closer, in a path that she knew so well, a troop of sheep were coming down from the hill to return to the flock. The joyous song of the cock rose, followed almost immediately by a powerful baying.

The thousand sounds of the hills struck her ears, so unaccustomed to these restful noises.

“I should never have left all this,” she thought. “And this is what I've become: a depository for human excrement!”

But boredom won out. A woman like she, accustomed to satisfying her whims, used to men, couldn't remain in such a state of emptiness.

She recognized an old servant who often came to her parents' house and asked her to keep her company.

“I'll pay you, certainly. But you see, if I go on living with my memories, I'll be miserable and perhaps I'll become ill!”

The servant, who had known her as a little girl and who was all alone now, couldn't resist the young woman's charm. She said she would care for her. Danielle gave her a sum of money and had no household worries.

She ate the food that the old woman prepared, always having the heat of a dream in her veins that made her disinterested in eating.

Every day since her return to the dwelling in which so many regrets left her pensive, the young woman walked through the fields, through the streets of the village, and her proud bearing cut the villagers' whispering short.

As they saw this woman passing by, whom everyone knew was a native of the country, the people took joy in greeting her with a little wave which she politely returned.

But the days that dragged on were to bring a resurgence of her physical obsession.

And in Danielle's heart, a song of passion and love tried to cast its notes to the echoes of the hills for the last time.