With no thought but of the passion which has been awakened by the repeated assaults of the brigands, the Lady Superior suddenly throws herself on the monk, seizes his enormous prick, which would have filled her two hands, and quickly raising his robe, straddles him, planting his big tool in her burning orifice before the monk can interfere.
She does all the work, holds the instrument in one hand and supports herself with the other resting on the grass. She belabours him with her lower pouting lips in great style and at last, spends, manipulating the enormous prick much as the instrument she hides so carefully in the convent, and uses every night when going to bed.
The monk supports the attack admirably; his prick is still as stiff at the moment when the Abbess writhes in the act of spending, as at the beginning of the amorous battle. She spends, but is just warmed up to thorough lascivious-ness. She also desires to satisfy him and not knowing what to do, her slit being bruised and sore, she presents to him her big arse and allows him to satisfy himself.
He runs his long prick against her arse cheeks while the skin rises and falls on the extremity. Finally, the Lady Superior gives a movement or two of her backside and an enormous jet spurts out.
The scene changes again and I find myself upon a lawn sprinkled with flowers, amid a crowd of boys and girls at play. A young girl hides the face of a youth in her lap, while he has one hand behind his back. The other girls advance on tip-toe and with little screams of terror, they cautiously give the hand a slap and then await, blushing and breathless, for the young man to turn, and guess who gave the slap.
After watching them a moment I am satisfied that the forfeit of the one who is caught is not an ordinary one.
When it is a boy they take down his trousers and each gives him a slap, not on the hand this time, but on the naked bottom. He must catch the last one who strikes him and that person must take his or her place until someone else is caught again. It is now the turn of a mischievous little girl to have her dress turned up. She buries her face in the lap of one whose office it is to hold and hide the eyes of each one who is hit.
They raise her skirts and expose her pretty little arse, while a little lower down can be seen a little pink cunt surrounded by its auburn fringe.
Whack! Whack! and the rosy skin takes on a deeper tint. The girl rises, and scans the circle but does not guess rightly and once more they hide her head and again the pretty bottom is exposed. This continues until a tall blonde is caught.
They hide her head, unbutton her drawers, raise her chemise, and, as she is tall, her little canny is more exposed. I can perceive the rosy entrance as a mischievous little girls sticks her finger in the opening.
The blade does not move and the little girl continues to rub gently with her finger till the blonde gives unmistakable evidence that she likes it.
At this point a boy draws the girl's finger away and inserts his standing prick. The blonde perceives the difference and gives evidence of the fact by becoming more excited.
This is the signal for a general debauch such as I have never witnessed since or before. Each little mischief unbuttons a boy's trousers and sucks his little tool; she caresses it until it is stiff enough to enter her little cunt.
There are forty couples in the greatest diversity of positions. They all spend once and spend again; then, with shirts up and pricks in the air, they have a game of Ring Around the Rosy.
The girls, with one hand on their neighbour's tools, the boys with one finger in the girls' cunts, either from the front or from the back. Then things become confused and finally I see nothing more.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"How long have I been asleep?" is the first question I ask the Count, as he enters my room.
"Thirty-six hours," he says, "or at least so says Ivan, for I have slept just as long myself. My dear Monsieur Dormeuil, I wished you to become acquainted with the strange sensations and visions caused by hashish!"
This explained the fanciful dreams I had had. I remained a few days longer with the Count and then returned to Paris to resume my old habits.
I reached my apartment at ten o'clock and surprised Jean in conversation with a chambermaid living in the neighbourhood. I was able to approach them without being heard. She was just showing the boob how to do it.
"Great Idiot! Wait until I rub that tool of yours," said she, and began rubbing his prick and shaking it, too. "Take my titties, John dear. Not that way, you hurt me. There, that's it. Now tickle the nipples. You see, you begin to grow stiffer. Put your hand under my skirt- there-feel my leg. Wait, you are too rough; you hurt me with your big fingers; now there, what do you feel? Is it wet? Now put your finger in-not there, you are too far down. How stupid you are. I tell you, that is my arsehole.
Ah, now you are stiff as a Grenadier. Now is the time-what are you doing-that is the right place, but you are hurting me; take your hand away and you will see."
She takes his prick and puts it between her thighs. "There-shove, John-not so hard- don't you see you keep slipping. There it isnow push. Easy at first-wait, I will get it in myself!" And at last she gets it into her cunt.
The amorous combat commences and lasts for some time. Several times she is about to spend but the idiot allowed his prick to slip out.
Evidently it is his first experience and that is why she displays so much patience. Finally he spends, and I hear him say to her, "I did not feel anything much, did you?"
"Yes, I did, it was ever so good; you are a ninny. Do you want to have another one?"
But I thought that another one would be too long, so I began to cough and called Jean as loudly as I could. I heard a rustle of skirts and then Jean appeared, as red as a poppy.
He was very glad to see me back and for that matter, I was not sorry to be at home again.
I soon pay my respects to my terrible neighbour and am delighted with my reception as I found her quite improved in manner. She has changed her style of dressing her hair and looks much younger. She wears a close fitting dress which displays her still slender form to advantage.
Our conversation becomes quite animated. She asks me a thousand questions.
I next go to our restaurant and next to Mademoiselle Hortense whose little cunt I explore of course, since it is part of my Thursday program.
My correspondence is scant and uninteresting. I go to see Madame X, but I do not return there in the evening, for I feel the effects of the days spent at Poissy.
The next morning I receive a letter from the Count announcing his intention to start for Russia. Wanda desires him to take the trip, so he will go. He sends his compliments to me.
This departure grieves me; I have really taken a liking to this peculiar individual, and for some days I feel out of sorts. I spend a great deal of my time in the company of Madame Benoit and find her decidedly more interesting than formerly.
Two weeks have elapsed; I only go to see Madame X- at intervals, and I have not purchased any more gloves. I lie in bed and think of the past, and have day dreams. I no longer have the same love for women. I do not feel the same regard of gratifying my passions. Another fortnight passes away and brings me tidings from the Count.
I am more and more in Madame Benoit's company and… shall I acknowledge it? I have made a proposition of marriage to her.
Who would have thought that one day I would be a husband and Madame Benoit my wife?
Now and then I kiss the lips of my betrothed and I dare not attempt a liberty, but tomorrow night I shall have the plump body of my wife entwined in my arms in this bed or hers, whichever she may like better.
The wedding takes place as arranged. It is midnight, and all the guests have retired. The women have kissed the bride and whispered to their hearts' content.