My dear young reader, it is definitely not a blessing for your body when fate directs you to the altar of an elderly woman. You lose without even gaining the smallest compensation. On the contrary, it is twice as hard on you with one fifty-year-old matron as it is with three twenty-year-old females. The former is no longer capable of surrounding her body with that certain voluptuous atmosphere out of which your own body gathers its renewed strength and vigor. You are the only one who supplies that atmosphere, and the elderly woman draws from it and warms herself on your passion and fire; your spent passion makes her temporarily stronger, but it weakens you. One might compare an older woman with a sponge: she soaks in and swells up, but does not give out anything.
And, if you want to be convinced, look around you. Look at those young men who have married elderly women. You can see for yourself how weak and miserable those wretched young bucks are. On the other hand, many an old rake who has a young girl for a wife is still vigorous and happy and, I would almost say, full of youth. That is because his strength and vigor increase through the embraces with a young and lusty woman, and he himself finds his youth again.
17. GERMAN WOMEN ARE NOT THAT COOPERATIVE
“Would you please do me a tremendous favor, my dearest Baron,” asked my Marquise one night, with an innocent smile on her tender face.
“Your merest wish is my command.”
“As you know, we are going to have supper with the Duchess tomorrow. You would do me a personal favor if you would be as nice and attentive as possible to her.”
“And if I be permitted, may I take the liberty of asking you why?”
(She smiled): “Have you been blind? Didn't you notice that she is terribly in love with you? She has complained to me about your coldness.”
“Only, my dear Marquise, because I have the good fortune of knowing you, and knowing you so well.”
“A Frenchman thinks differently about such things; he bestows favors upon every lady.”
“The Germans, to the contrary, would call that philandering.”
“But you are in France now, and the Duchess is one of my best friends and, therefore, I would consider it a personal favor if you would show some intense interest in her… let's say for one month. And I hope that then you will return to these arms, the ones that now embrace you so firmly.”
“And, what will her opinion of me be when I suddenly break off our relationship.”
“Oh, she will call you mean and dastardly, and she will swear a holy oath that you must be a true Frenchman from both your father's and your mother's side of the family.”
“I prefer to stay with you.”
“No, my dear Baron, I have assured the Duchess that she was uppermost in your thoughts, that, however, the inborn shyness for women which is so typical of you Germans has prevented you from declaring your undying love for her. And I also promised her…”
“I am losing too much, oh beautiful Marquise.”
“If that is true then your return to me should be of so much more value to both of us.”
I had to promise her.
The Duchess was in every respect a very charming and beautiful woman: young and flowering, well-fed, and her eyes were full of passionate fire.
During supper I sat at her side. Her dress was incredibly voluptuous. Her milky globes veritably foamed right out of the top of her daring gown. I recited every single one of my compliments and watched closely as to the effect of them upon her countenance. At about the same time, and as if entirely by accident, I pushed with my knee against her thigh while I turned toward her. She squeezed back softly and a deep red blush covered her face. Thereupon I caressed her well-formed thigh with my hand, found a little opening in her skirt, pulled up her underskirt and proceeded to rub the velvety skin on her inner thigh. I would have loved to explore Venus' temple itself, but it was very difficult to do without attracting the attention of the others.
There were many people at the dinner party, and after dinner we played a game of cards. A heavyset abbot was the bank, and the Duchess proposed that she, the Marquise and I would play a game. When we sat down she fanned herself and complained about the unbearable temperature. The Marquise nodded at me almost imperceptibly, and I gallantly proposed to escort the Duchess to a cooler room where she could get some fresh air. She accepted my proposal eagerly. We sat down upon a sofa. After a few exploratory hand kisses, I threw my arms around her neck, kissed her rosebud lips, and toyed with the immense globes.
“That is not very conducive to cooling off, my dear Baron!”
I therefore laid her down and slipped my hand under her skirt. The fountain in her love copse was foaming to the brim and the Duchess licked her lips when my fingers touched the entrance. Her breathing became labored and her eyes were sparkling with desire.
I made myself comfortable and put my prick at the entrance of her temple of passion. She had become so passionate and swollen that I had to employ a little force in order to achieve entry. She received her favorite guest with a voluptuous cooing and jumped for joy under me at such a fantastic speed that she emptied the cup of passion ere I had a chance to do much of anything. It seemed as if she was about to lose all self-control; her breasts looked like stormy waves.
She kept on groaning and moaning, and she lifted the altar of Venus higher and higher. She became wilder and was veritably thrashing. When I spent, a stream tore forth from her fountain and the entire copse was drenched in flood waves.
Satisfied and happy, we returned to the party, and it was not till two o'clock that we parted.
18. MORNING VISIT
The next morning I paid my respects to the Duchess. She was home for no one but me. She was also still in bed.
I took off the coverlet. She embraced me passionately and kissed me feverishly.
“Are we safe from intrusion, my goddess of love?”
“Nobody enters without my specific instructions.”
I undressed, then took off her nightgown.
I started to feel her beautiful body. She became so passionate and full of desire that her eyes glazed over and even the lips of her temple quivered.
I guided my prick into her sanctuary; she received me with a jubilant outcry and threw her legs around my body, moving so rapidly and with so much force that her fountain started to overflow before I had reached bottom.
After she had quieted down somewhat, I decided to double my efforts. She was nothing but passionate feeling. I put my hands under her fleshy buttocks and let my fingers play around in the cleft. This only increased her desire and she lost almost all self-control. Every part of her body quivered voluptuously and her breathing was a tremulous sigh. A passionate fragrance engulfed us. As soon as I emptied my sacrifice upon her altar, she lost all motion; I could only feel life deep inside her sanctuary where the fountain was still bubbling.
My pleasure was very great; the only thing missing was the nerve-shattering sensation which I experienced when I was with my Marquise. The Duchess was too passionate and too wild, and therefore incapable of bringing me to the utmost. After a short moment of recuperation she called again for renewed battle; her desire knew not of tiring.
I was overjoyed when I could return to my Marquise to find satisfaction and rest in her loving embrace.
19. A REPAST FOR THE GODS
One of my best friends was a French baron and through him I made many acquaintances and various beautiful and remarkable conquests. I will not go into details about the latter because I would have to keep repeating myself. But I must make one general remark. I have noticed that French ladies are much prettier and smaller built and far more convenient for making love than their German counterparts. They also understand the art of bringing out their most desirable qualities and they know how to give exquisite pleasure better than their German cousins.