Pleasures and follies

Chapter Eight

You purists must surely have raised a squawl over the preceding chapter! Purists, eh? May they go to the devil.

I expected a little chilliness, or a pout, or a serious air the next day, but no, my Conquette chatted with me as usually she did. A week passed during which I made no effort to stuff her. On Saturday, thoroughly recovered from the worrying Montencon had given it, her gem began to itch again. She remembered I had told her she could let Timon encunt her. She took the greatest pains with her toilette, donned a shawl, and went out that evening. But I was watching her and having Madame Brideconin – or, as I jokingly called her, Madame Conbride – keep a sharp eye on her. I was warned in time. I followed her to protect her from mishap. She entered a house and mounted a flight of stairs. I listened at the door and was able to peek through the crack. Conquette cast herself into Timon' s arms. But he was ill. Hence, the lovely thing got no more than a tonguing. Instead of caressing her in the way she would certainly have preferred, Timon fell to narrating the rest of the events concerning Vitnegre, Fout- a- mort and Connilette.

" Rather than going straight to my office – for I was feeling badly – I went to pay Vitnegre a visit. I found him in poor sorts also, this as a result of the monk' s terrifying threats – they had an interview yesterday. The monk had sent someone to fetch him. Vitnegre ran to the monastery and found the entire brotherhood in the infirmary, standing by Fout- a- mort' s bedside and he had listened to the enraged monk' s speech. ' You snivelling wretch, you dog!" the discourse began. " If I had the strength I' d throttle you. But as it looks as though I were going to die of this – so at least they tell me – I' m going to inform the lieutenant of police of everything. They' ll hang you. D' ye hear that? A bloody shame, eh? You sold your wife to me, you did, a lovely creature. Do you know what I am dying of? The pox. Well, your wife – young, healthy, still a maid – didn' t have it. I know damned well what you did. A false compassion moved you to spare your wife for whom I paid good money and you substituted a whore in her place. A filthy, scurvy trick, that, a villainous stunt, do you hear? Were I to recover, I' ll have your wife, never fear. And if I die, it' s the rope for you.' Vitnegre swore by every devil in hell that ' twas you he had on the bed. The monk, who had just been given a rubbing with mercury and whose tongue was swollen, nodded in a sign of disbelief. Then the doctor drew Vitnegre aside: ' Have you business to conclude with that rascal? Judging by his tongue I calculate he has no more than two hours to live. He has so terrible a case of syphilis that I' ve been forced to give him three times the dose I' m used to giving. I know this fellow, though: a monster. The world will be better off when rid of him. Wait a while and he' ll cease being able to speak.'

"' We' ve got to prevent him from writing!'

"' Never fear, his eyes have already started to go. He can barely see and his tongue' s beginning to emerge from his mouth.' The doctor took the monk' s pulse. ' He' s suffering the tortures of the damned. Thirty minutes more and he' s done for.'

The next morning he learned from the doctor that the monk' s inflamed tongue had choked him to death a quarter of an hour afterwards. They burned everything he wrote while on his sickbed.

" Calmer now, Vitnegre has just told me the whole story. The hour is late. I can' t take you home. You' d best go, my darling friend."

Such was the tale Timon recounted to my daughter, which I overheard and which later she repeated in entirety to me. She returned home, her mind occupied by gloomy thoughts. I followed twenty paces behind her, glancing left and right to guard her from any misencounter. My prick rose like a pikestaff at the sight of her moving haunches.

She entered the pension and lingered in the kitchen. I went directly down to the storeroom and hid myself. Down she came, carrying a lamp in one hand and a kettle of warm water in the other. She washed her fur, sighing all the while, and saying to herself, " Even though the villain' s dead, I' m still afraid." I tapped on the bed. Conquette raised her eyes and saw me.

I recounted everything she had been doing. That caused her a fright, but it was a salutary one and cured her of the desire to go to see Timon by herself. I told her I had met Vitnegre on the Quai des Ormes, adding, " You went there for a fuck. You' ll be fucked, too. I' m going to spend the night with you." She sought to beg off, protesting that Timon' s story had banished all desire from her; I refused to listen to such nonsense and got into bed. She soon lay down at my side.

" The appetite is restored by eating," says the proverb, and we shall see how well it applies to Conquette.

Once we were in bed together and my daughter within range, I frolicked with her breasts, sucked her teats, and encunted her. For I know not what reason – whether because put out or stubborn – my divine child lay there unstirring, inert like a slaughtered calf. I also ceased to move and remained with my sword in the scabbard. Later, having slid over upon my side, I fell asleep, my weapon still sheathed. Conquette, who had passively submitted to everything, probably went to sleep also for, when I awoke, I found I was still lodged in her trick. I began to move a little. She hugged me, squeezed her cunt, shifted her flanks, and said, " Push harder, dearest lover!" She began to jolt me with all the strength of her loins, belly and thighs. She discharged. So did I. " Who' s thy chosen fucker, oh, goddess?"

" Ah, for such things as there, there' s no one but you. I' ll resist your will no longer, for you are wiser than I. I have had pleasure – and owe it to you only. Begin again, dear Papa, for I would discharge in your honor. I adore you."

Vigorously reencunting her, " Prithee, fuck now," said I, " as not long ago you fucked with your lover." She shook her buttocks as in olden times did Cleopatra or Messalina and between leaps and bounds. " Oh, bugger- fuck!" she exclaimed. " Fuck, fuck, fuck me, fuck your slut… cuckold my sweet ballocked sire whose wife I am… whose mistress… whose whore! Ah, I feel your prick deep within my cunt! Your tongue. Give me your tongue. Oh, I' m coming… com- ing… com- ing… Fuck me!… Ah! Ah! Ah!… No more. I can bear no more!" With that over with she went off to wash her cunt.

No sooner did she return than I mounted the ramparts again. Off we started. " Fling your ass about, beat me with your cunt," I exhorted her, " make it dance… I can feel your nipper biting my prick' s end

… Ah, creature of my own prick, you fuck mightily well for a novice

… Now accelerate your movements… more rapid yet… good, excellent… what flexible loins!" She leapt thrice and discharged like a musket.

" Oh!" she cried. " I wish my father' s balls were freighted with a ton of fuck, and that he' d shoot it all into the bottom of my cunt!" Her prayer was answered, for I emitted straightway, and our rains of fuck met in ecstatic confluence. She performed a copious ablulation. I refreshed my weary fucking tackle, then we got back into bed and had at each other a third time. The tourney lasted more than an hour. I sucked her nipples and tongue and gave her mine to suck. I had her discharge now and again, finger me constantly and stimulate my balls. I simply had not the heart to decunt. All of a sudden, my daughter, whom I fancied thoroughly done up, fell to wiggling her ass, to convulsing her cunt as in days bygone her mother used to, but even better. My prick adopted the most resolute slope, but I was not within sight of a discharge and was able to ream her barrel as much as she liked. " I' ll not bother to speak of a Vitnegre," said Conquette, " whose pleasure when aboard a woman depends upon the degree to which he brutalizes her. But you, dear Papa, you fuck with greater tenderness and more deliciously than Timon caresses me. You ply your peg like a god. This discharge is for you. A gift for Papa… Papa… drive deep, you' re in your daughter' s cunt, forge ahead, Papa, strike with your ass, fuck me, Papa… you' re in my cunt, so fuck, bugger, fuck

… fuck your daughter, you incestuous pig… drive, drive deeper… into your girl' s cuntlet." She sweated and lay as though dead while her love juice streamed out of her entrails.

I began again to heat the tube, wishing also to discharge before calling a halt to the night' s games. The spark was soon aglow in her. " Fuck, dearest pimp, I' m your whore, your bloody cunt- for- hire… your devoted fuckeress, your loving child," she cried out, agitating her ass with fury.

" Here!" I tried, " here, my darling daughter, is the fuck you yearn for!" I released it deliciously, and my fuckeress discharged with even more pleasure.

" Ah, what a night!" she murmured. " Timon would never have entertained me so sumptuously." She washed, then I did, and we fell asleep.

To be reserved and dignified, modest and voluptuous and an accomplished fuckeress too – that is character in a woman.

And it is rare. Such things are not to be taken lightly. Montencon, at first, failed in his attempt to stuff Madame Poilsoyeux. She was quite as modest, quite as restrained after he succeeded in fucking her as before. She carefully followed the advice I had given her not to allow him to take her accorded or extorted favors for granted. One day, as she bent forward to stir up the fire, Montencon laid hands on her cunt. She wheeled around and slapped him. " I, who know her very well," I said to Montencon, " never touch her buttocks or tug at her cunt hair without first asking permission. To be sure, she usually gives it, telling me to be quick about my business. When she is dressed and got up like one of the Fraces, I begin by requesting leave to kiss her foot. Then, gliding my hand up along her leg, I say: ' You' ve such a pretty leg. Let me kiss it.' I advance to the thigh: ' What satin- smooth skin!' I say. I delicately raise my hand to her fur and exclaim: ' You know, simply to see you walking in the street and shaking your ass in the charming way you have is enough to give any man an erection, make every woman turn green with envy – and I am able to say to myself: ' I' ve just fondled and kissed those tempting, incredibly fuckable delights.' I follow you, I overhear men saying: ' By God, I' d fuck her silly!' I can tell from their expressions what women are thinking: ' What a coquette! That gait, that posture, those clothes, that air signify " I want to be fucked! Come along, all of you, fuck me!'" Buggresses, my prick stands up for nothing but the magnificent cunt which arouses your jealousy. My daughter smiles when she hears these remarks, yields to my fondling, then gives her bubs, buttocks and cunt to be kissed."

Montencon stared admiringly at me and asked Conquette' s forgiveness. She had been listening to what I said, and her cheeks were suffused by a chaste blush.

Some time later, having conducted her to the home of a friend. I returned in the evening to bring her home. As I was walking several paces behind her, the sublime contours of her buttocks gave me so solid an erection that, once back at Madame Brideconin' s, I made a bee- line for her cunt. She demurred, for the landlady was stirring about in the vicinity. " At this particular moment, my adorable goddess, I am so inflamed by lubricity – it was the way you walked that provoked this commotion in me – that I could very easily fuck you in front of everyone in Paris." I gritted my teeth, still holding tight to her cunt hair, that silky hair which formed a long and superb peruke in the Louis XIV style.

" Well, then," she replied, " let' s get to work, for you mustn' t spoil my curls."

" In the nude, my queen." Without relaxing my grip on her cunt I followed her with every step she took. She gave me a pretty kiss – her tongue featured therein – by way of thanking me for allowing her to get undressed.

" Don' t let go of my hair," she added, " that helps put me in form." Such agreeableness only made me adore her the more. An instant later she was down to her corset. " Do my shoes suit you? Or would you prefer me to put on slippers and other stockings."

" Slippers." With one hand I removed her shoes, the while tickling her cunt. " Oh, that white leg! How neat and tidily made you are!" She donned her slippers standing up. I released her cunt and she proceeded to wash it. Next, she walked several times around the room that way to increase my excitement.

" I' m going to drink you dry," she promised, observing I had virtually lost control of myself. While I stripped off my breeches she sat with her legs crossed, wiggling her tantalizing pink- slippered foot.

I could contain myself no longer. Seeing me about to leap upon her, Conquette walked towards me, had me hold her skirts up, leaned her elbows upon my shoulders and, without touching my prick with her delicate hand, impaled herself gently. She gradually descended until I thoroughly stoppered her dear little prick- squeezer. " Don' t move," she said. " I want to do the fucking by myself." When she felt pleasure surge up in her, the divine fuckeress, overwhelmed, let go and fell upon me with the whole weight of her body. " Dearest prick

… in you go." She glued her burning lips to mine, contracted the muscles of her cunt, darted her tongue into my mouth, and squirted, giving vent to all her soul contained. I discharged with a prolonged shudder of joy. She kept on with her fucking for ten wonderful minutes. " Oh, fuckery I adore, the lightning flash of joy remains in the sky all the while I fuck you." ' Twas then I felt the emotion that had assailed me long ago when, as a boy unleashing his spring- tide discharges, I used to lose consciousness, and I thought now I might expire from happiness in this unique cunt. I said so as I ejaculated. She whom I held on my spear only fluttered the more energetically.

I swore, I cursed, I called my daughter by divine titles: " Celestial cunt, majestic cunt, cunt of the gods, cunt of my prick. Was it I, or a king, or a prince, or indeed the strapping young attorney' s clerk who fucked you into your whore of a mother' s cunt? Who knows? But this prick of mine makes you my true daughter by mingling my fuck with yours. Divine, sacred slut, adorable embuggered buggress, I' ve got absolutely to embugger you too. No, on the other hand, your fuck is too precious for me to consent to lose a drop of it."

" Fuck me as much as you like, and wherever – in my ass, my mouth, between my breasts."

I said I would respect her wishes and then explained why I had followed in her tracks to and from Madame Brideconin' s pension: " My purpose was, firstly, to be there in case of danger and, secondly, to hear whatever was said to you by the men and youths whose pricks you made stiff. One said: ' What play in the hips, what appalling movements of the ass! Ah, by Christ, my sweet bitch, were we alone I' d make your cunt bubble!'"

" I, too, heard him," said Madame Poilsoyeux with a smile.

" Another – it was tonight – took one look at you and began to twiddle his member in the middle of the street. ' Little mother,' he said, ' I frig myself and I' m going to discharge all because of you."

" I heard that one also, I smiled at him and he added: ' Oh, if you are a whore, a divine whore! Fifty louis for you. Three screws. ' Twill take no more than an hour, either at your place or at mine. I live at number 16, rue de Buci, third floor, the door on the left."

" A pretty fop," I resumed, " muttered aloud: ' My prick in her mouth and my tongue in her cunt. Aye, ' twould do nicely,' and he frigged himself, frigged, frigged!"

" I saw him. I gave his prick a little tap with my fan. I felt very sorry for him. Indeed, I thought about him afterward. Perhaps that was why I seemed a bit testy when you seized my cunt upon our arrival here." These words gone out of her mouth and we staged a scene much like those I have already described, except that this time I laid my daughter on her back. " Dreadful Papa," she pouted, " you' re pretending you are the fop… ' tis he fucking me now… you have me fucked by everyone who desires me… and so I' m going to discharge in the fop' s honor, sir, with his prick in my mouth, his balls dandling on my bubs and my father' s prick eight inches deep in my cunt… I' ll swallow… your sweet fuck. I' m coming!" Never had she manifested so much passion.

She was thinking clearly, for between a brace of discharges she said: " I like your lips, they go with mine. I don' t like Montencon' s. I don' t want him to encunt me anymore," she said, flailing her body spasmodically, " with his tongue in my mouth… ah! ah! ah!… if I had that buck with the fifty louis – and you know I' m not a saucy creature – I think I' d play the whore, but I' d insist upon the money in advance – Vitnegre told me girls always do – and only then would I pull down his breeches and let my cunt be martyrized for pay."

" Quite right," said I.