Tableaux Vivants

THE GULP

Ours were sweet and honest amours. The sacrament alone was wanting. My little Lucette consoled herself by saying to me, “I am thy wife before God!” I was twenty years old, she seventeen. To us there was nothing but poetry in the world. We spoke of heaven and of the happiness of angels, and when we consummated our voluptuous sacrifice we called it mingling our souls.

Our pleasures were made up of such chaste caresses. In the evening, seated in front of the hearth, Lucette on my knees, how we chatted away! If my hands strayed underneath the petticoats of my mistress, she sighed, “Ah, the wicked man!” And throwing herself on my shoulder, drawing my head towards her, she drank me in with a long gaze of her eyes whilst I clitorised her. Then speedily the bed received us both, and was filled with plaints and murmurs.

If I wished to kiss high and low the pretty body of Lucette, she did not refuse; only, she put out the light. In the darkness she became more libertine, and yielded to me everything. But shame returned to her with daylight. And one morning there was a serious quarrel between us, because I had wished to place her quite naked in front of the mirror.

We had loved each other for a year, when Lucette's family, who lived in the provinces, suddenly recalled her. A short time afterwards I heard that she was married to a captain of dragoons.

Two years later, I was crossing the Tuileries gardens when a woman passed.

“What! Lucette, is it you?”

“Richard!”

“It is really you! What are you doing here? Ah! Lucette!”

“My husband is in garrison at Paris, and I could not but follow him.”

“Your husband! Hold your tongue, faithless, ungrateful one!” I said to her smiling. “So you have displaced me for this captain!”

“Why, yes! He married me!”

“He married you! What a fine word! Ah, well! You have done what I should have done had I been Lucette. But may I come to see you?”

“Do not think of coming to my house! My husband is jealous!”

“He will stick me with the point of his big sabre! Ah, Lucette! If I dare ask you to come to my house!”

“Mon Dieu!” said she, “there is scarcely any need to press me strongly! I want to have a chat with you, Richard.”

At this moment her beautiful eyes, always sweet and swimming with longing, lighted up. “There is,” I said to myself, “a fortunate hour chiming, which I will not let slip.” I took Lucette's arm in mine. We arrived at my rooms, laughing and tattling.

Lucette, the door once closed, gave me the most amorous, the warmest of kisses. I commenced thinking about the captain. Poor dragoon! I relieved his little wife of her hat and mantle, and made her sit on the sofa. Fresh kisses.

However, my hands began to wander all over her. What was my surprise to see her hand- her hand formerly so timid! — slide itself within my pantaloons, open them, and pull out that which you know well. And what! was I dreaming? She threw herself on this noble tool (I dare to assert it is noble) and kissed it. Lucette, Lucette, is it really you? What manner has this captain dealt with you?

I proceeded to draw away her dress. Her bosom was as pure, her shoulders as fresh and rounded as of yore. The remainder was proportionable. I murmured low, so low that she could scarcely have heard it: “May I take off your chemise?”

She burst out laughing, and the chemise fell.

My lips went in search of the chalice from which formerly I had not been permitted to drink except in the obscurity. O change! O mystery! O surprise of surprises!

“Tete-beche, then!” said Lucette to me.

Then she poised herself on me, her love-chalice on my mouth, whilst her rosy little mouth attached itself to this member which erstwhile she dared scarcely touch with the tips of her fingers. At the first stroke she thrust it in almost to the bottom of her throat. What an alert tongue! What learned lips! Lucette pumped with all her soul, passionately, furiously! with sighs! with stifled cries! with boundings of her loins! with enraged movements of her whole body! The enflamed liquor darted out: she drank it, she tasted its flavour with delight.

“I have not lost a drop!” she said to me. “Lucette,” stammered I, “is it your husband who has taught you to-”

“No! it is the little lieutenant,” she replied. “My husband kisses me-and that is no good at all to me.”

“Lucette, I will do the same as your husband.” But she did not listen to me: she had thrown herself at my knees, shaking and still continuously kissing my dart which hung down. What a strange passion! Her hands pressed my empty testicles, her tongue ranged round every part; all her strength, all her soul, were bent towards the sole glory of reanimating me. Of myself she no longer thought: I did not exist for her. In truth, she had no other thought than for it. It was my member.

Seeing that she could not succeed in stiffening it by these means, which did not please me so much as she, the astounding creature raised herself, and commenced to ride astraddle on me, pressing my rebellious tool between her dainty thighs, and rubbing it against the edges of her pretty coynte, which she herself looked upon as a saint not worth the trouble of feasting. Contrary to other women, she availed herself of natural ways and means as an excitant and an artifice to arrive at an end which nature ought to reprobate.

I speedily recovered my vigour under this treatment, and pressing Lucette against me, I threaded her so quickly and with such justness that she was penetrated to the very bottom before she had time to defend herself. But she was robust; she uncoynted herself resolutely, and letting herself sink again to my knees, once more seized my dart and gulped it down.

Gulp! Yes, that is the word for it. It was simply having a gulp! Whilst she was sucking me for the second time with the same frenzy, I had not the courage to withdraw myself from her devouring caresses.

“Nothing for me,” I said to myself, “everything for it. She does not even trouble herself to know if I am content, so long as it is on the stand and she has her mouth full!” I was jealous of my member.