Naturally, Madame Dormeuil blushes lightly every time she meets my eyes, which becomes her very much. I take her on my knees and try to assist her to take off her waist. She will not allow that.
"Stop! I beg of you," she exclaims.
I take a kiss, then another, a third… a great many. However at last I find myself in my own room. She would not grant me the conjugal bed tonight. She denied me so charmingly that I could not insist. I go to bed feeling cross and out of humour. Several times during the night I feel like forcing the other door that separates the cruel one from me. But I am afraid of the noise and the scandal.
We spend the next day in the suburbs of Paris. The weather is so beautiful that we decided to go to the country. My wife is quite lively and eats and drinks with appetite.
We return at nine o'clock and as I take off her shoes, I take the liberty of examining the commencement of round, well turned leg. Madame Dormeuil will not shut the door in my face tonight! We have a lengthy discussion on that point, but she will do her duty as a wife. She says that I am to be forbidden the sight of her disrobing, so I am banished temporarily to my own apartment. Twice have I gone to the door but have not been admitted. At last I am able to turn the knob. The lamp on the table is turned very low and the room is so dark that I can scarcely distinguish the bed, the curtains of which are drawn.
It does not take me long to undress, then I slip in between the sheets where a slight warmth alone betrays her presence. I wait a few minutes, but my wife does not show any intention of beginning a conversation.
"Dearest!" I venture to say then: "Gertrude! Gertrude!"
Perhaps she is asleep, and I touch her gently on the back. At the contact of my finger she doubles herself up and draws close to the wall, but I become bolder and in my title of husband, put my arm about her waist, and draw her to me. I forcibly turn her face to mine and impress a burning kiss upon her lips.
I feel her big bosoms and press them close to me; I turn her quickly in my arms, but she begs me to let her sleep. It appears so ridiculous to her to have me in her bed, she has become so accustomed to consider me as a friend, as a brother, and so on. As she speaks, she hides her head in my bosom. I cannot stand it any longer. Little by little I have raised her chemise.
I pass my hand over her legs, her large bottom, and press it gently. Then I suddenly thrust one leg between her thighs, explore her legs, the knees, then further up. As I feel the luxuriant hair against my leg, I grasp her pouting pussy, then again I feel her bosoms. They fill my hands, firm yet so soft. Now my hand descends to her great cunt. What a beauty she has! Surely she must feel my prick; it is like a great club against her body.
"Anatole, I beg of you, not tonight, tomorrow night if you like!"
"No, my darling, tonight, now!" I say passionately and I succeed but not without some difficulty in getting between her legs; then I immediately try to place my tool at the entrance of her big pussy. On pressing a little, I enter with ease. I give a vigorous shove and I am there! I begin to rub softly and put one hand under her bottom. It does not take her long to respond.
"Anatole, kiss me," she murmurs. Presently I kiss her again, her tongue responds to mine and her arse moves, keeping time as I enter and leave the little grotto of love. I kiss her voluptuous bosom and I move still faster.
"Anatole, how good it is. Not so fast! Ah! Ah! Ah! A little faster now.
Faster!! It is so delightful. Ah-h-h-h!!"
And now her big bosom goes like a steam engine and she squeezes my tool and plays with my balls. I take good care not to stop her. She is coming! I feel it-there it is!
"Anatole, I am coming, my darling! Oh, I love you, my husband, my darling!" and her great bottom falls heavily on my hands. We spend once, then spend again, and I am still ready to spend the third time.
After three successive assaults, we go to sleep in each other's arms, but before closing my eyes I calculate how many years my wife had to remain without having relations with a man and admit that fate is indeed hard on a woman.
The next day, when I look at Madame Dormeuil I remember my reflection of the night before and I give her a hearty kiss without telling her why. Things go on pretty much the same after the first night, but without any struggle on her part.
I had been happy in my new existence for a month, when I received a letter from Count Alexis.
In order to give you an idea of the effect it had on me, I will reproduce it.
My dear Dormeuil,
My dear friend, you must either have thought I had forgotten you or that I was dead. My silence was caused by much work and great uncertainty of mind.
Do you remember Wanda? She is here with me. I was sick and she took care of me with wonderful devotion. Many admirers, young, rich and titled, have asked for her hand in marriage. She refused them all and seems happy only by my side. Before so much devotion, I, the highlived, have succumbed. My heart has spoken; I am going to marry Wanda.
According to the French custom, before my marriage, I intend to give an entertainment to all my friends. It will be my last bachelor's dinner and I cordially invite you to attend. My next letter will give you the date. I shall count upon you and we will be sure to have a good time.
By the way, I have a confidence to make to you. You remember when I visited Madame Benoit, your terrible neighbour. When I told her I was sent by you, I found her in a bad humour. One of my little jokes at last, however, made her smile, then laugh heartily.
Unintentionally, a naughty word or two would creep into the conversation, and I remember that she made me repeat them. Her hearing was not so very good perhaps; to be frank with you, I took a few liberties which were not badly received, and one thing which you will certainly not believe, my dear Dormeuil, is that Madame Benoit's skin is very soft and that her bosoms are magnificently firm.
Once warmed up by the coquetry of your neighbour, I raised her skirts and presented you-know-what, at the entrance of her retreat.
Plenty of beautifully curling hairs and big thighs, on my word!
You doubt the fact I am sure, and think me insane, but it is true for all that; I shall always remember that glorious mount. It was one of the best I ever had.
Your neighbour fucks well; I should never have dreamed of such a thing, and it was in your interest that I carried matters so far. That is undoubtedly the reason of your charming reception on your return; now good luck to you; use this little confidence as you please. Try it yourself; she is not as terrible as she looks. Let me hear from you pretty soon. I expect your visit shortly.
With cordial good wishes, I am your friend, Alexis.
Who would have thought such a thing! Oh, Madame Benoit, the prude. But I reasoned with myself. After all, Madame Benoit was free at that time to do as she pleased and I was a fool.
A week ago, I myself broke our marriage vows. I received a letter, giving me a rendezvous at 37 Rue de l'Ecoille. It was Miss Anderson, whom Count Alexis had met at Naples. She was still in love with him and asked me news of him. I have revenged myself on the Count with this young English girl.
I pressed her so hard that I laid her on the bed, and, raising her skirts, introduced my tool into her reception room before she had time to refuse. She worked well and vigorously, and I soon gave her a reserve of sperm which I had saved up, as my wife was angry with me.
She is a very loving and lovely thing, this little auburn-haired girl. She really spends with the finesse of art. I see her often and she has promised to stay here another month.
I have abandoned the idea of going to Russia, neither will I be angry with Gertrude, who is quite enough-more than enough for me now!