I jokingly told her that, if she allowed me, it would be my pleasure to visit her, and that if I could be of any service to her, I would consider it a delightful duty.
She was going to remind me of this promise, she said, and she hoped that, being an honorable man, I would not break my given word to her.
She now opened the door to another room. I was blinded by the beauty of what I saw. It seemed as if I had been transported to a fairytale castle. I stood in the most beautiful copse. The trees had been copied from nature in such perfection that I was wondering whether art could really create greater beauty than nature. The walls had been painted so superbly that it seemed as if I were looking through the forest and in the distance I could see the sun throwing its last rays across the horizon. Could it be real? The heavenly sphere of stars on the ceiling and the full moon were the only sources of light. They had a magical effect. A zephyr blew through the leaves and filled the area with a wonderful aroma. I stood as if nailed to the floor and happiness flowed through me when suddenly a nightingale began her melting song.
I finally dared to walk through the door. I cannot tell you how I felt when I saw, next to a fountain, on top of a green hill, under the shade of an enormous tree, the most beautiful female figure in paradise, without the fig leaf, sleeping lightly.
I came closer; she awoke, stretched her arms toward me and pulled me down on the soft, resilient upholstery next to her.
“Did Daphne's abode surprise you?”
“Most beautiful Marquise…”
“Hush… I am now Daphne, awaiting Apollo.”
The surprise had made too great an impression upon me, and I was incapable of expressing my admiration, and even less my sudden happiness.
I could not tear my eyes away from the lovely Daphne. Long dark hair framed her beautiful face and fell down upon her beautiful bosom, inviting me to voluptuous delights. The whiteness of her enchanting body, the whole form and position, the place itself, and the cozy darkness… all this would have been enough to warm up a marble statue.
I felt the burning fire within me, threw myself upon her, embraced her passionately and guided god Amour into the hall of coronation. She received me with utmost compassion. I heard a whispering sound and when I looked up I saw the branches of the tree close over our heads.
What a heavenly surprise!
We had barely started the battle of our sexes when two flutes sounded a lingering melody, making perfect music.
My sensations had reached the ultimate.
She was cooing voluptuously in my arms, proving to me how happy we were. The flutes fell silent and we emptied the cup of passion together. We then sank exhausted to the floor and into a short, but deep slumber. After a while, my darling Daphne said:
“Shall we get up and refresh ourselves, dear Baron?”
A flick of the wrist from my Marquise, and the beautiful copse no longer existed. We got up and walked into a well-lit grotto, where we found refreshments. A voluptuous-looking sofa invited us to sit down and we revived our flagging spirits with good wine and passionate flirtations. Who could not, in the company of such an enchanting woman, give reign to his passions?
Soon I was back in Daphne's arms, sucking passion off her rosebud lips. Amour went through the entrance of Venus' temple, kissed Hymen fleetingly and ran back to the exit to find out if he would be followed. Suddenly Daphne lifted her voluptuous behind and Amour was entwined in Hymen's arms ere he could think of fleeing. Now they united for pleasure with soft flowing waves of passion till they threw themselves in the sea of love and cooled their burning feelings. The clock struck twelve and the two flutes sang a lovely adagio.
Daphne led me toward the voluptuous-looking bed. Arm in arm, chest against bosom, lips upon lips, we sank down into the warm embrace of the goose down. New feelings warmed our bodies; we desired fulfillment as if it were the first time we embraced each other. We tried everything that could sweeten our delights even more. We became very passionately heated, a voluptuous atmosphere surrounded us, little pearls of sweat made our bodies slippery. We lost all sense of time and became unable to speak. Soft groans emanated from our lips; we fell into a dizzying whirl of passion and tumbled into the arms of the god of sleep.
Excuse me, dearest and passionate Glossen, beautiful and desirable Flamman, I have known intense satisfaction in your embraces, but my Daphne was far superior. Everything that could possibly excite the senses, increase the charm and bring out the passion was united in her person. She knew how to make the slightest caress become an intensely strong charge for the voluptuous nerves which demand an instant release from tension.
The newborn day awakened us. We rushed from the arms of sleep into the arms of love, and we were the happiest of all mortals.
I remained in Paris for almost a full year. My relationship with the Marquise remained uninterrupted and our last embrace was as passionate, as tender and as rewarding as our first one had been. My Marquise was inconsolable at my departure.
16. WHO COULD HAVE BELIEVED THAT SHE WAS SERIOUS?
One morning while I was still in bed, my servant announced that there was a female outside who insisted that she had to see me.
“Who is she?”
“I don't know, and she does not want to tell me, either. I suppose…”
“Well, speak up… what do you suppose?”
“I suppose that she carries one of those secret messages; Lord knows from what beautiful lady.”
“You really think so? And what if she had something in mind, herself?”
“Oh, no, she is too old for that. She looks as if she has at least half a century behind her.”
“If I wait any longer, you are going to try to become funny. Ask the lady to enter.”
It was the old woman who worked for my Marquise.
This is going to be an invitation, I thought to myself.
“Dear sir, not too long ago you were so friendly as to give me permission to visit you. And here I am.”
“I am overjoyed…”
I was very surprised, not overjoyed at all. Was she serious? I could hardly suppress a smile.
But she was dead serious! She sat down on my bed and she was as loving and tender as a German girl of sixteen. She finally laid herself down on top of me, kissed me, went with her hand under the blanket and suddenly grabbed my prick.
“Oh, the charming, pretty boy! How beautiful he is!”
Her eyes shone with passion.
For better or worse, it is different, I thought. I got up, bolted the door and carried her to the sofa.
My servant had definitely not been wrong about her age. I was quite surprised that her thighs were so round and firm. Her love bush had suffered from the years, but I am equally as sure that it had weathered many a storm and survived many a flooding. The entrance to the temple was exceedingly roomy and many a pilgrimage had worn down the steps. It almost looked like a small valley.
Surely not much of a charm, but a promise is a promise. I took up my position and discharged my honor as well as I possibly could. It really became something of a sport to find out how many positions we could take up, and it was amusing to see the contortions she went through in order to fan the fire of my passions. And at that, I must admit, she succeeded.
When I finally emptied my nectar into her I had the distinct impression that she became furious. She knew how to squeeze my rod, and it came out of that battle severely bruised.