Tableaux Vivants

THE KNUCKLE OF MUTTON

“Go along,” said Cora, “you boast. If you saw there, before your eyes, a young lad, beautiful and fresh-complexioned, who would present to you his backside, you would be afraid and would be off as fast as your legs would take you.”

“Ah, my dear child,” I said to her, “certainly not. One should know a little about everything, and-”

“Bah!” replied Cora, laughing. “You love women too much.”

“That is, in truth, what I am going to prove to you immediately.”

When I had proved it to her, and her loins had felt the spasm of enjoyment: “You were boasting just now,” she said to me, “you were boasting. You have not so many vices, and, even for once, you could not be a paederast. But go along!”

In the course of an hour I had forgotten this little debate. Two days afterwards, Cora wrote asking me to breakfast the next morning with her and a little friend, “with whom I should arrange in a friendly way.” These were the terms of her letter.

The next morning I arrived at the time fixed. Breakfast was served in the boudoir hung with red satin. Cora presented me to her young friend, whom she called Hyacinthe.

Hyacinthe was a tall girl, fair, plump, and with locks of the most beautiful Venetian red which it was possible to see. The idea immediately struck me that they were dyed, following the present fashion, which I liked well enough. Hyacinthe, who appeared to be eighteen years of age or more, had beautiful clear brown eyes, a great purity of feature, and a divine mouth. I asked her permission to kiss her. She gave it me without hesitation. A fresh breath perfumed me. Then Cora, bending to my ear, said to me, “You know that I am not jealous.”

We placed ourselves at table; the conversation grew warm. Cora caressed Hyacinthe, to whom she said, pointing to me with her finger, “Carry him my caresses.” The mouth of Hyacinthe came afresh to attach itself to mine. Our tongues mingled. I was ravished with so much grace, freshness, and naive abandonment.

“Hyacinthe, give me your breast to suck,” I said to her.

At that Cora went off into a great burst of laughter. Hyacinthe imitated her; the two sillies swooned. As for me, I said to them, “What is the matter?” This made them laugh the more.

However, we commenced to gulp down the champagne. Cora's eyes were covered with a film, those of Hyacinthe shone like two clear suns. I held her pressed against me. The hands of the fair child wandered, seeking for the proof of the emotion which she had caused in me. It was a marked advance which I felt bound to return.

I therefore passed a hand under her petticoats. What a skin! What well-modelled thighs! I mounted and-I came across a great villainous napkin.

“Ah, Hyacinthe! what a misfortune! You have your-”

“What do you want?” said Cora to me, laughing heartily. “It is not a good day. But I, Hyacinthe, I have not my affairs!”

And saying this, a glass of champagne in her hand, she threw herself on the sofa, her clothes flung up to her waist. Hyacinthe fell on her knees in front of her and kissed her stomach and Mount of Venus; and I, drawing Hyacinthe backwards, “What do the regulars matter? Is not a little pure blood which glides under the assault of an amorous member a condiment the more in the pleasure?”

Thus I said to Hyacinthe, who heard me through, whilst sweetly licking Cora's clitoris, who was commencing to enjoy. Suddenly she raised herself.

“You wish it!” she cried to me.

“Do I wish it!” I replied with ardour. “Regulars or not, I will thread Hyacinthe, and thee after her, and Hyacinthe again after thee!”

“My Lord,” said Cora, pleasantly, “thy will be done!”

She announced that she wished to direct the warm action which was going to open between the fair Hyacinthe and myself. She made Hyacinthe place herself on her knees on the sofa. I threw up the clothes of the young hetaera, and whilst she was taking off the napkin I kissed her pretty backside. Her croup appeared to me a little short, but of a perfect rondeur, with mellow flesh and velvety skin. However, the napkin fell.

“One, two, three-off!” cried Cora.

I advanced a quivering hand, and found-a prickle! An enormous prickle!

Cora, sunk back on the sofa, once more died with laughter.

“Go on, go on!” she cried to me. “Ah, you wished to feel at a pretty boy. But you would not dare. I said truly that you would not have the courage. Eh, well! Eh, well, but he is going-”

“I go in!” I cried.

“But,” said Cora, sitting up, “I want my share. Stop, my lovers, stop! Hyacinthe shall do me in front while you do him behind.”

“By all the devils, no!” I replied resolutely; “I take all! I want the knuckle of mutton!”

I entered without difficulty into the admirable backside of the fair and delicate Hyacinthe; I clasped with full hands his member, stronger than iron. What a strange sensation!

I had often sodomised woman, a man never. The pleasure is different. Is it prejudice which mingles with it? Is it the victory obtained over this ridiculous prejudice which makes this pleasure bitterer and more vehement? Yes or no, has nature given me the faculty of enjoying? She has made no distinction between sex or means!

Never had I pressed such mellow buttocks as those of this young lad. I penetrated into him even to his entrails, I moved my hands with fury, and his boiling semen flooded them. Cora clung to our side, drunk with desire, flushed, and uttering a thousand abusive epithets on us.

“Pigs! Infamous paederasts! Practitioners in sodomy! And I, shall I, then, enjoy nothing?”

Hyacinthe, spent, went to sit down on the sofa. Under his woman's dress, still raised to his waist, his shining thighs appeared. Ah! I was no less drunk than poor Cora, disinherited and stripped of pleasure! How seducing this young Hyacinthe was! When everything in him seemed so feminine, was it quite certain that he was a man? There was nothing, even to this member so great and so robust, even to this superb article, which did not show I know not what grace! I could not prevent myself from attaching my lips there.

But Cora threw herself on us like a lioness. It was but just to yield to the furies of the poor deprived girl.

“Kiss her, Hyacinthe,” I cried, “kiss her, then!”

The spectacle which they both gave me rendered me capable of a second combat. But this time I prayed my young friend to quit his woman's clothes. I had the courage of my crime.

Hyacinthe, naked, appeared to me like one of those beautiful adolescents of whom the ancient poets speak. The charming child, burning to please me, wished to procure me a new pleasure: he knelt down in front of me.

Ah! he was abler at this game than a woman! He has not known happiness, he who has not been sucked by a bardash!