The Boudoir No. 5

PART 11

(Continued from page 153)

I could not answer, but I could not help opening my thighs, and lifting my nightgown in secret, he got over me, and I held him fast in my embrace, waiting and impatiently desiring the supreme moment.

I soon felt the head of his instrument. A shivering fit seized me, during which I took care to introduce it as far in as possible. I still felt a tolerably severe pain, but that did not stop me; the happy fire that circulated through my veins made me support all. Already I felt the advance symptoms of enjoyment. I tried all I could not to speak; I wanted to cry out, and tell all I felt. I now perfectly understood my aunt's words, but the silence of Charles, who seemed wrapped up in himself, prevented me giving vent to my feelings.

He continued his movements, and kissed me, but he did not seem beside himself, as I should have wished. I could not resist the impulse to push up my bottom, and cry out! Then I remained perfectly still… I was spending… so that I almost lost my senses.

Charles stopped for a second, and seemed astonished at my transports. I curbed myself, and he still pursued his career… what more can I say?

He was a long while performing his sweet duty, and I poured out the sweet dew four times! At last I felt him shudder and sigh, and a fiery, flaming jet inundated my entrails.

We both remained quiet. I, exalted, in a fever, but ready to begin again; he, broken down, and only requiring rest. So we fell asleep.

Next morning, on awakening, I found myself once more alone. I was not sorry, and my brain recapitulated the scene of the night, till I felt a curiosity that impelled me to examine my body. I sat up on the pillows, my legs well apart, and with my hands opened the lips of my crack. I found a great change; the interior was much more rosy, the opening was made, and my entire finger easily plunged within. This examination amused me, and would have produced certain consequences, but a discreet rap at my door made me cover myself up hastily, and take a natural position in the bed.

'Twas Bertha, who found me fresh and gay, and who smiled as she kissed me. We gossiped like sisters as I dressed.

I was a real woman now, and my pretty aunt treated me as one. She drew certain secrets from me that seemed to interest her greatly and questioning me, I told her what took place.

She seemed much surprised when I said that I had felt great pleasure four times, while Charles had only done it to me once. Evidently the slight amount of my husband's virile strength, compared to the vigour of hers, surprised her greatly.

The day passed away, and, as my husband was a great sportsman, he went out shooting. I took a walk with Bertha.

We all met at dinner, and passed the evening with a little music.

Night arrived, but how different from the two preceding ones; Charles popped an ugly silk handkerchief on his head, chatted about our early departure, about our new house, amp;c. but never a word about love, not even a caress; he embraced me coldly, and slept.

I awoke on the morrow before he did, and a terrible longing seized me to look at the instrument that I had only felt twice, and which did not much resemble Monsieur B.'s in size or strength. I was favoured by circumstances. It was warm, and Charles had thrown off the sheet, that only just hid the particular part. Luckily, his shirt had been pulled up;

I had only to draw down the sheet a little, with infinite prudence, and I caught sight of the sad tool which was to be my only consolation.

What a difference, indeed, to that of Monsieur B.! Small, wrinkled, and in a shrivelled skin, one could hardly guess at the presence of its limp head, that reposed on his thigh.

Henceforward, I believe, my destiny was fixed.

Charles stirred, I made haste to turn round and pretended to sleep, and he left the bed first, as was his habit.

The limit fixed for our sojourn at granny's house drew near.

I was far from being unhappy, as my husband was good to me and loved me as heartily as his cold nature allowed him. He was proud of my beauty and refused me nothing, but all this did not suffice. It was not what I had so much desired — namely, a voluptuous, lascivious, ardent love, for which I would have sacrificed everything, for which I was capable of real devotion! I could see laid out before me, a gentle monotonous life, probably without the birth of a child, but too difficult to support for a temperament like mine.

Charles did it to me once or twice a week, and always in the same despairing reserved style. He only kissed my cheeks or my forehead, my young firm breasts received no caresses, his hand seemed to flee that charming place that would have so gladly welcomed its touch. I too felt that I dare not try to feel him, as instinctively I knew he would have repulsed me.

We had already been married two years, I was twenty!

My temperatment now in full blast had increased in passion, instead of growing calmer! My husband did it less and less, and as I feared I had no child, and a baby would have changed my one fixed idea.

My grandmother had been dead a year. We dwelt in the town of Z — , where my husband occupied an exalted position that obliged him to be frequently absent, and these little journeys suited his taste for hunting and shooting.

Therefore I was often alone, and in spite of music, that I continued to love and successfully cultivate, my brain was always at work, my excited senses continually pictured scenes of delirious love. What fearful nights I used to pass alone, writhing between the sheets in lascivious positions that I instinctively invented!

My finger was powerless to satisfy me now. I would take my bolster, and embrace it with twisted legs and twining arms, as if it could realize my desires. I would rub against it and reach a degree of comparative spending enjoyment that drove me still madder. I would change my position, and get astride on it, rubbing myself, till the sluices of pleasure, swollen to the uttermost by this stimulant, burst open, and procured me some relief.

These nervous fits brought on hallucinations, that manifested themselves by an inconceivable state of hysteria. My calm and gay temper became unequal and capricious. I resisted as well as I could, but at last I avowed myself vanquished, and fell! Was I very, very guilty?

I was very friendly with Madame D., wife of the principal magistrate of the town, a slight blonde, who may have been pretty once, but who was already beginning to fade, and I think that she had had many intrigues when young.

One day, when visiting her, she informed me that Monsieur F. had come to take command of the garrison. He was a young officer, who had been much talked about. He had fought with rare courage on the battlefield, and had rapidly earned the epaulettes of lieutenant-colonel. He was about thirty-six and unmarried.

Madame D. told us that she had invited him to dinner and my husband and myself were to meet him. Was it a presentiment? I know not, but I returned home quite pensive, and slightly jealous of Madame D.

I must confess, I got ready what I thought was a most ravishing dress, and three days afterwards the dinner came off. We entered the drawing room, Monsieur F. was already there. In a moment, I had examined him. He was tall, vigorous, and well-built, his countenance frank and open, and his manner well-bred. He was introduced and his sweet persuasive voice charmed me. My heart grew cold, and then all the blood in my veins rushed to my face. Oh! I was a captive caught in the toils at last, and 1 did not even seek to combat the influence that invaded my soul.

The dinner was served and it turned out a very gay one;

Monsieur F. was able to show his brilliant and cultivated wit. He sat at Madame D.'s right hand… I could have killed her!

After dinner, he approached me, asked to be allowed to pay me a visit, and talked to my husband, whom he pleased vastly. Madame D. sat down at the piano and played a lively waltz; Monsieur D. said that I was a good partner and asked me to take a turn with him, but he was old and soon fatigued, so Monsieur F. offered to take his place.

As I felt his arm encircle my waist I was taken with a nervous tremor that evidently did not escape him.

I gave myself up to the charm of the hour. Monsieur F. boldly profited by the embrace in which he held me, in spite of the spectators. As he turned a corner of the drawing room, he was able to press me so tightly to him that I felt for a second against my belly a certain object so hard and stiff, that I was nearly fainted.

That waltz was the signal of my defeat!

The happy evening was too soon over. Once more at home.

I undressed quickly, and pretending fatigue said good night to my husband, jumped into bed, not to sleep, but to dream.

I was placed on my left side, my bottom turned to Charles; a caprice seized him; I felt him softly lift my linen, and then, pressing against me, he tried to get into me from behind. I was vexed at first, but, my temperament overpowering me, I gave way to his designs, but he could not manage it, and he did not get in.

I lost all patience, and rapidly threw off the sheet by a sudden movement, I passed my hand behind me, seized the dart, which was useless without a guide, and stuffed it into my body to the last inch. I was thinking of Monsieur F. the whole time. I imagined that he was behind me, and that he was doing it to me. Under my breath I addressed to him all that I was burning to say at such a moment.

Three times the dew of love gushed out for him, for him alone! My husband, profiting, unwittingly by the result of my thoughts, did his duty a little better than usual, and refreshed me with a copious ejaculation.

When he had retired, I feared that, with his habitual ridiculous reserve, he would have made a fuss about the spontane175 ous movement that made me seize and imprison his instrument myself, but he seemed, on the contrary, grateful to me.

I made a note thereof for the future.

The next day, Monsieur F. came to pay us a visit, but we were out and I was really grieved when I found his card. He returned on the third day, and his persistence pleased me greatly; my husband was at home, we received him as cordially as possible and pressed him to come often.

I fancied that he treated me with particular warmth of feeling, and I was happy at the thought!

A gentle intimacy quickly sprang up between us, my love grew greater each day, and I already saw that my adored F. reciprocated the feeling. Although he had said nothing as yet, I was sure of it — what woman ever makes a mistake?

We had, as yet, never been alone together; I ardently desired and yet feared that moment. I did not wish to abandon myself entirely at the first interview, and I felt that it would be impossible for me to resist one single instance! I resolved to know more of him, to try him… but all my strength of will melted away directly I saw him. In such a state of mind, how could I resist his attack?

That was quickly proved! One day, he came at three o'clock; my husband was away, but I had a visitor, a wearisome female, who had no idea of getting up and going. I I could see my dear F. waiting and suffering, but at last, not being decently able to remain any longer, he took his leave, giving me a supplicating look that I was powerless to resist.

I said to him: "Has not my husband promised you such and such a book?"

"Yes, madam, and I had hoped to be able to take it with me to-day/' "I will give it you — Pardon me, madam," said I to my eternal bore, "and permit me to leave you for an instant."

We were in a small reception room that served as my boudoir. P., who understood me, went out and waited for me in the big drawing room, whither I rejoined him, with an odd volume in my hand.

In an instant, he declared his passion. What he said — what I answered, I know not. I remember nothing.

I led him towards the hall, for fear we should be overheard.

There was a double door between the drawing room and a little vestibule, where I could hear a servant. As we reached there, Monsieur F., beside himself, seized me in his arms, and a lingering kiss, a kiss of fire, a kiss that responded to my soul, arrested a shriek that I should not have been able to stifle.

At the same time, his prompt hand had lifted my petticoats, and was scientifically caressing my burning slit, that quick as lightning poured out upon his fingers palpable traces of the spendings that filled it to overflowing.

"Begone,… begone!.. away," I said, with stifled accents.

"Go… To-morrow… three o'clock"; and I fled in a state which I cannot describe.

Happily, the lady who was waiting was not very clever, and did not notice my disordered state.

I shall not undertake to narrate my feelings till the next day.

All that I can remember is, that I firmly resolved to satisfy my erotic longings.

My husband intended to absent himself for two or three days, and I arranged so as to send my servants on different errands. I dressed myself carefully and waited.

My dear F. arrived. I opened the door to him myself, and led him to my boudoir.

We sat down, much embarrassed. He was very respectful and asked my pardon for what he had done the day before, saying that he was unable to master the delirious rage that had seized him, and that his love for me was such that he would die if he was unable to enjoy me.

I knew not how to answer. Both our hearts were too full.

He took my hand and kissed it. Shuddering, I rose. Our mouths met. I confess I made no more attempts at resistance.

I had not the strength to do so.

I fully enjoyed this intense happiness. I felt that he was carrying me along — but to where? What were we to do? In my boudoir there were only a very narrow low sofa, some armchairs, and ordinary seats without arms.

F., still holding me in his arms, sat on a chair, so that I found myself in front of him, leaning over his head and face.

I felt one of his arms loose my waist; soon my clothes were all up in front, and F. tried to pass his knees between my legs.

"Oh, no," said I, between two sobs. "No,… I pray you, have pity."

F. made efforts to pull me down, so as to straddle across him; but on instinctive feeling, although I longed for it, I still resisted, and stiffened myself against him. We soon became exhausted. At last, having dropped my eyes a little, I saw something that put an end to the struggle.

F. had taken out his instrument for the fray. Its ruby, haughty head stood up proudly. In length and thickness really uncommon, it vied even with that of Monsieur B. I had no strength to resist such a sight; my thighs opened by themselves. I slid down hiding my face on my lover's shoulder, and I gave myself up to him, opening myself as much as possible, desiring, and yet fearing the entrance of such a handsome guest.

I soon felt the head between the lips of my grotto, that the thin tool of my husband had not accustomed to such a bountiful measure. I made a movement to help him, and had hardly introduced the point, when I felt myself flooded by a flaming jet of loving liquor that covered my thighs and belly.

The prolonged wait, and his own passion, had made the precious dew pump up too quickly, and I had not been able to enjoy it as I should.

I could not help showing a little disappointment, but my lover, covering me with kisses, told me that I need wait but during a brief period of repose, and that I should soon be more satisfied with him.

We sat on the sofa, entwined in each other's arms, telling one another of our love and happiness; we had fallen in love at first sight, and both had given way to irresistible passion.

In a few moments I saw that my lover was ready to begin again, and I asked myself how we were going to do it. I did not wish to try again that posture that had turned out so badly for me, and I could see F. also looking about him.

An idea struck me. I rose, smiling, and toying with him; he rose too, I retreated, and he eagerly pursued me, till at last I went and leant with nonchalance upon the mantelpiece, presenting my crupper, that I wriggled like a cat, and at the same time I turned my head and threw him a provoking glance.

Ah! how he understood me. F. rushed upon me, and kissed me, saying "thank you."

Then he got behind me, and threw my petticoats over my back. When he saw the beautiful shape of my bottom, he gave a loud cry of admiration. I expected as much, but did not dream of the homage he paid to it.

F. threw himself onto his knees, and after having covered my backside with kisses he drew them apart, just at the top of the thighs, and I could feel his lips, nay even his tongue. I shrieked out, and was overcome.

F. rose up, and began to put it in; his enormous instrument could not easily penetrate, in spite of our mutual efforts, so he drew it out, put a little saliva on the head and shaft, and I soon felt myself stabbed to the very vitals, filled and plugged tightly up, and in a state of unspeakable ecstasy.

My lover, leaning over me, glued his lips to mine, that I offered to him by turning my head; his tongue dallied with mine. I was beside myself. I felt myself going mad. The supreme moment arrived. I writhed about, uttering inarticulate words.

F., who was reserving himself, was delighted at my joy; he let me calm down, and then I felt his sweet movement again.

Ah, how he knew how to distill pleasure, and double it by a thousand delicate, subtle shades. Oh! that first lesson; I can feel it, as I write, between my thighs.

"Dear angel," he said, "tell me what you feel; it's so nice to enjoy each other's soft confidence, when we form but one body, as at this moment."

Oh, how his speech made me happy; I, who had always wished to hear and say those words that had amost driven me wild, when my aunt was at work! I did not hesitate an instant longer.

"I must do it again," said I, "it's coming- push in — again — right in — finish me — ah! I die!"

"My adored one, I'm coming too — it's bubbling up — Ah I spend!"

F. gave a push, and fell upon me. I felt his ejaculation, and nearly fainted under the jet.

How was it that I did not die during that embrace? Nothing that I had imagined at the sight of my aunt's sweet struggles could approach this reality! I remained overwhelmed, my head in my arms, my bosom heaving, incapable of movement.

F. drew out. I still spent. I kept on spending. I stopped as I was, without sense of shame, naked to the waist, trembling, mechanically continuing the movement of my bottom, and causing the overflow of liquid to fall to the ground.

F. took pity on me. After rapidly adjusting himself, he pulled down my petticoats, and taking me in his arms sat by my side on the sofa. I was delirious for a second. He calmed me; his sweet voice brought me to a little. I begged him to leave me to myself, and he went away.

I had at last regained full consciousness. I was in an extraordinary state of disorder, and was obliged to change my linen. My chemise and stockings were not only stained by loving liquid but spotted by numerous spots of blood. I had not had to do with such a full-sized member with impunity.

When I had set in order my toilette and my ideas, I went to bed and slept soundly, my husband not intending to return till late in the evening. I awoke about seven, happy, fresh as a lark, and stronger than I had felt for many a day.

I will not recapitulate all the thoughts that crowded in upon my brain, as I have already said that I had been drawn on by irresistible feelings, and above all a natural absolute craving for the venereal act, that was as necessary for my life as simple food.

Yet, I was far from depraved! I loved my husband as a sure friend, as the companion of my existence, and if he had possessed the manly vigour that was necessary for me, or if even he had known how to subdue my clever caresses, I should never have dreamt of being unfaithful to him! I resolved to spare him all sorrow, and I have fully succeeded, as he has never had the least suspicion!

This revolution demanded much care, trouble, and even privation; the town I inhabited was much inclined to scandal, and it was very difficult for me to hide my connection, so I had to take endless precautions, I warned my lover, who, wishing above all to save my repu180 tation, promised to do all in his power not to excite suspicion, and I knew I could rely on his honour.

A few days went by without our meeting; I suffered greatly and he as much as I! A sign, a look during our walks was our only consolation for eight long days!

At last, F. could bear it no longer, and came to pay us a visit; we chatted in an ordinary friendly way; someone else called, F. went away; my husband showed him out and returned to the room. I know not what instinct warned me that F. had not left the house! I got up, with some excuse that seemed all the more reasonable as the visitor was keeping up a technical conversation with my husband, and went into the vestibule. I was not mistaken; F., seeing no servants about, was waiting by the street-door.

As soon as he saw me, he threw himself upon me, clasped me in his arms and with violent passion exclaimed: "Darling angel, how I suffer!"

"And I?…"

We were once again between the double doors. Before I knew where I was, our mouths were glued together, my petticoats were up to my navel, his finger pushed itself into my burning slit, that opened beneath its pressure. My hand had seized the darling object.

What more can I say? In a second or two — a few movements of our hands took place — I swooned with joy, and drew away my hand, bathed all over with an abundance of the warm liquid.

Yet a few moments went by without our being able to meet, till at last a happy moment of liberty was granted to us.

A whole hour was ours.

Ah, how we profited by it! My lover came into my boudoir.

I rushed to receive him, and I devoured him with caresses.

"Let us do it quickly," we both exclaimed together, "let us enjoy to the utmost our secret happiness."

I tore myself from him, pulled up my clothes behind, and, getting onto the sofa on my knees, presented my bottom.

He put it in at once, and I very soon swooned beneath his copious discharge.

We then sat down, but my lover was not satisfied, and despite my fears I could not refuse. He went on his knees between my legs, then he made me stretch wide apart. I took his vigorous firebrand in my hand; it was already as hard as ever. I stroked it a second, then pushed it gradually into myself, while I savoured slowly the delightful pleasure.

When the arrow had completely disappeared in its quiver, F. leant over me, and lifting my two legs over his arms threw me backwards, and went to work so lustily that soon a second ejaculation became added to the first, with which I seemed to be already filled.

I do not intend to retrace day by day all our delicious interviews; I will limit myself to a description of the most striking facts of this adorable liaison, that I wished would last out my life! My lover know how to vary our pleasures without ever reaching satiety, he felt a singular pleasure in teaching the art of enjoyment and emission, and he found in me a most docile and willing pupil.

He taught me the names of everything, sometimes making me say them, but only in the whirl of passion; he used them himself in supreme moments of bliss, pretending and rightly too, that such a high spice should never be too much hacknied, or it would lose its flavour! As I write on, I forget myself in these sweet recollections, but what matter after all?

What cunning caresses! What lascivious postures did he not teach me! What whims, infantile play, and even prolonging on both sides! What refinements of pleasure did we not realise as soon as thought of! I made such progress, under such a good master, that often I surpassed him.

I used to vastly like to change the way of doing it. For instance, sometimes when plugged from behind, one of my favourite positions, would unhorse my cavalier, turn round quickly, give a kiss to my rosy conqueror, wet with my spendings, and escape to the other end of the room, I would place myself in an easy chair, my legs upraised, and my pussey quite open, while I gave it a provoking twitching movement. My lover was hardly in me again, when by a fresh whim I would draw it out, make him sit on a chair, get on his knees, my back turned towards him, and taking his courser, plunging in my body to the very hilt, let his burning jet finish our sweet operation.

My dear Minet, as I generally called the splendid instrument of my joy, had become my passion, the object of real worship. I was never tired of admiring its thickness, its stiffness, and its length, all equally marvellous. I would dandle it, suck it, pump at it, caress it in a thousand different ways, and rub it between my titties, holding it there by pressing them with both my hands, Often when captive in this voluptuous passage, it would throw out its dew.

My lover returned all my caresses with interest. My pussey was his god, his idol. He assured me that no woman had ever possessed a more perfect one. He would open it, and frig it in every conceivable way. His greatest delight was to apply his lips thereto, and extract, so to speak, the quintessence of voluptuousness, by titillations of the tongue, that almost drove me mad. (Continued on page 211)