The prairie, the trees, the stables from which came the odors of the animals, brought back memories which took a new turn in the minds of the young people.
They were saturated by the heady atmosphere around them, asking only for the virile penetration of the overheated earth which gaped under the bright sky.
Danielle was entirely happy with this life she had wanted to recapture and gave herself up to sudden bursts of sensuality. She would often breathe the warm perfume of the fields and plains to soak herself in them totally in an attempt to prove her dependence upon everything which surrounded her.
The vast familiar horizons murmured words of long ago to her and she imagined herself naked in the light, running in the wind with her laugh of a frightened little girl who didn't believe in such illusions.
Other times she would stretch out among the cut hay and, uncovering her white, muscular shoulder with an impatient movement, she would caress her breasts where so many adventurous, tragic hands had been placed to make the desire of long days rise in her female body.
She noticed clouds in the brightness of the sky that had bizarre shapes, and her thoughts, like the one she had had when she had seen the tree that resembled a virile cock, became sexual attacks which made her change positions to find new ones.
But her insatiable body demanded the irrigation necessary to the health of her individuality. She loved only the positions of love which nature invented to give a constant passion to ridiculous humanity.
Her long, passionate, sensual body stretched out in the warm grass in almost invisible places where lovers like to hide to escape the evilness of the masses.
The young woman still desired the intromission of a tearful virility in her caverns of passion. To her, it wasn't necessary to await the regenerative spasm of destiny, but immediately, without giving her time to breathe or understand the significance of an obscene gesture, she had to be possessed with force, violently, fatally perhaps.
Sometimes when several farm girls would pass by her, returning from the fields, Danielle would greet them with a smile as if she too were returning home with the girls. Those incomparably robust country girls were the sisters of that unsatisfied whore. Tony liked to boast of his prowesses with some of them, but never of-the secret of his lovemaking with his wife.
His body was thirsty and trembled with desire at the slightest touch. What pleasure there was in letting the inexhaustible flood burst into the gaping orifice that received it!
The situation changed in the eyes of the married couple without their really being aware of it. If they had been able to read deep inside themselves, perhaps they might have found the infamy of the physical possession of their bodies. But to them they were just like all the others who had preceded them in the path of love.
Their bodies belonged to them. They were free to use them as they wished. They were free to caress each other and give each other the most lascivious pleasures.
The couple loved one another, or rather they loved their animal bodies which were always in heat, pressing their tongues together at the instant when the spasm was declared.
To the man, it was the call of the species to embrace the woman of his dreams. The woman offered her sexual nature to the desire of the animal who was penetrating her.
“I'm coming!” cried Danielle in the intensity of her physical pleasure.
And she came, not like many ignorant women who make love in the dark, but in the bright light, irradiating her skin with tiny red spots.
To come! That is the goal that nature has assigned us in life.
We need thighs, long cocks to penetrate gaping cavities, so that life can pursue its path toward future generations which will take up the torch of satisfied love.
Then that lascivious, obsessed female, confident in the wiseness of the Creator who must laugh at the rigidity of human principles, regained her destructive role of profane beauty.
Remorse had never tormented her nor made her think about her ruined life.
Danielle was not the only one like that. But unlike the others who hid themselves to perpetrate the worst vileness that good sense often condemns, she offered herself to the country air to let herself dream and satisfy her vice.
And slowly, released from social contingencies, she began to hope for that life she had chosen for herself again.
To her, her husband was the man who satisfied her body, and if she was overcome by some morose thoughts from time to time, she quickly chased them away to keep from remembering the frightful pricks that had initiated her into the most degrading turpitudes. Thus to her, an act of sodomy represented only the curiosity of her nature which was always in quest of the unknown. And no one could have forbidden her those things if experience had confirmed the splendor of those bizarre positions.
So this woman, this whore inflamed by the desires of the body, sang the refrains of former times in the light air of the fields, and they were sent back to her with the echo of a long laugh of fatigue which was exhaled under the blue country sky… then, as every day, when the sun disappeared on the horizon over the house where she lived with her husband, she slowly walked back again to kneel at the window and dream of the eternal waiting that left her unsatisfied until the moment when the male hand would rest on her hip, trembling with passion.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Splendid days alternating with foggy ones passed over the love of the two young people.
While her husband was busy working in the fields, Danielle loved to wander through the grassy paths listening to the hum of the insects in the warm grass, often stopping to look at the countryside bathed in a wonderful light. She couldn't take her eyes off that country where everything brought back the memories of her candid childhood.
How far away that time of innocence was!
Sometimes she thought she heard the voices of her parents, who now slept peacefully in the little village cemetery.
As soon as she was home with her husband again, who took her in his arms, a certain nostalgia would penetrate her without her even knowing the state of mind she was in and, as if the mute things which prowled around were melting inside her body, she heard the call of her childhood.
The promises she had made herself to live happily with her golden dreams had been annihilated under the unclean passions that had swallowed her up.
How many nights of stupor and madness had she spent giving her whore's body, offering that corner of her body to lascivious males?
Like a leaf swept by the passing winds, she had been touched, soiled, and now the vivifying wind of the country smelled of the perfumed prairies, murmuring a rebirth of her young years.
It was too late to live like that.
“Yes,” she thought, “I could have had a home and children like the others. Of course I wouldn't have known life, but my ignorance would have prevented me from being a…”
She was afraid of thinking the word whore. But she had been a whore!
And not just like those sluts who opened their mealy mouths, with their breasts falling down over their navels and a cracked skin as if all the foetuses of the world had been inside them, but a receptacle for human ordure, a gaping cavity where all the vomit of the world had been poured…
She often wished she could forget the memory of those ten years of forbidden passion. But the more she tried to chase away the visions that obsessed her, the more they came back! When she slept beside her husband, she had terrible dreams.
She was struggling against huge virile members that foraged all over her, hairy heads that leaned over her and bloody lips full of saliva that forced their way over her mouth, red feverish tongues that almost choked her.