But now I want to tell you about an extraordinary dinner party to which the baron had invited me and two other friends at his petite maison.
He led us into a large well-lit room, hung with tapestries and carpeted with large upholstered pillows. From the adjoining room harmonious music wafted into our ears. We drank a few glasses of wine and our host invited us into yet another room where we were to divest ourselves of our clothes and put on a domino mask. We thereupon went back to the large room and sat down upon the pillows.
Six nude girls, carrying baskets filled with delicacies, entered, wearing flower garlands. We ate and drank and quipped, accompanied by the harmonious music. The girls sang a beautiful song about love and passion and they executed a voluptuous pantomime. I never saw anything more charming and exciting in all my life than that dance.
After the dance the girls lay down in a circle; we threw off our masks and mixed amongst them. My quill is too dull to describe in detail all the voluptuous games that went on.
Two of us tried to get in one and the same girl whose entire body seemed to exist only for voluptuous dallying. She fled but was pursued. She stumbled over a pillow and the one who was quick enough to catch her immediately lifted her behind and guided his prick into her passion pit. The other who had missed out grabbed lustfully for another girl but he sacrificed his balsam on the floor before he had time to enter her temple. My host had lots of fun and he asked me if I did not see anything to satisfy my lusts.
Right in the beginning I had found one girl whose soft and shy demeanor had attracted me greatly. As soon as my host saw that I was about to embrace her, he too took a girl and laid her down in position. We had barely started our battle when the two remaining girls started to become very aggressive. They tried to separate the hunters from their quarries and they also treated our backsides rather harshly. One of them was especially bold.
The girl under me was extremely sensitive and she soon emptied her cup of passion. When the bold one finally got around to hit me, I was prepared for it. I turned around, grabbed her and laid her on the floor. The entrance to her passion pit was very narrow and too small for my staff. I also had grabbed and penetrated her too quickly and unexpectedly. The poor thing screamed out loud and begged for mercy. This was cause for great hilarity among the others. However, in the end she was very satisfied with me.
My readers may think whatever they want, but these excesses of voluptuousness and debauchery were too much for me, and therefore, I will end my chapter here.
20. I AM IN LONDON
I had been in London for three months already, and still I had not made one single victory among the English ladies I had met. My self-esteem was insulted. I doubled my efforts, but the cold looks and the immaculately cool behavior of my objects prevented me from doing anything at all.
A beautiful English female is worthy of the greatest admiration, but she leaves the heart empty. Not having found any satisfaction for such a long time made me very moody and cantankerous. I complained about my plight to a friend.
“That is easy to allay,” he said. “We will drive into town and, if you so desire, we can have dinner tomorrow night and dally to our heart's content with first-class ladies, depending on how much you are willing to spend.”
“What do you mean?”
“We order a dinner for twenty pounds and we have a girl of the lower classes, or, we order one for one hundred and our company will be a lady of the finest standing.”
I accepted his proposal and the next night we went into town. The presence of two delicious ladies with beautiful and gracious looks had been taken care of. We ate and drank and then repaired to an adjoining cabinet for amorous dalliance and to gorge ourselves with passion.
I wasted time with all sorts of foreplay. She did, indeed, reciprocate, but the French manner was lacking completely. I proceeded to undress her and found that her body was excitingly well formed. She finally began to warm up. I laid her on the bed and placed myself on top of her, guiding god Amour into the temple of passion. I moved and she lay still; I kissed her fervently and frequently and I practically begged her to reciprocate my movements. She did not seem to understand what I wanted. We finally emptied the cup of passion but without the giddying ecstasy which makes it so worthwhile. My paramour showed me her satisfaction by becoming a little bit more alive the second time around. However, real voluptuous ecstasy was sadly lacking.
Before we went back into the dining room, the lady inquired about my name and address. We spent another hour with pleasant conversation, then parted.
A certain Mistress Glasser allowed me to pay her my compliments from time to time and I would be unfair to her if I did not admit that I spent some passionate hours in her arms, though she never allowed me to view her beautiful nude body. Her love for me was strong, passionate and intense. The reason she broke off our affair was because she had seen me drive around with Lady Betty.
One day, when I was about to drive away, my servant handed me a small, scented note. I opened it and read:
“If you allow your carriage to stop in front of my hotel at L- Street around 4 o'clock this afternoon, I will be waiting for you.”
“Who is this?”
“Why, Lady Betty, sir.”
Lady Betty, I thought. None of my acquaintances had that name.
I drove off, stopped at the hotel, was led into a beautiful room, and soon Lady Betty entered.
I was surprised to recognize my beautiful paramour.
She noticed my surprise and assured me in the most charming manner that an irrepressible desire to see me again had caused her to make herself known to me. I pulled her down with me on the sofa and tried every conceivable means to get her passions inflamed. She took me into a bedroom; I undressed her and rubbed her buttocks with a fine woolen cloth till they turned red. The lips of her temple became engorged, her snow-white bosom heaved, her lips quivered and her eyes became very dark and languid.
She admitted that she had never felt such a devouring fire inside her passion pit in all her life and when I laid her down, guiding my prick to its goal, her hips thrashed in the motions for which I had begged so unsuccessfully at our first meeting. It increased my pleasure enormously. With true ecstasy we floated through the clouds of passion.
Lady Betty, too, loved strongly, with passion and intensity. It is very pleasant to see an English woman who is in love. The great and noble way in which they love inspires awe. If you feel like embracing the French girl, you feel like kneeling before the English one. She gives herself either without reserve and restriction, or she does not give herself at all, and she would rather do away with herself than submit to a lover of whose infidelity she is convinced. And if she is sure of infidelity her worst punishment is utter disdain; and an English girl is very seldom carried away by thoughts for revenge. And her soul is too noble to think first and foremost about the possibility of deceit; if she becomes suspicious, she will first investigate before accusing, and if she is satisfied, one way or the other, she will act accordingly. I have been told that an English girl gone astray surpasses anything the imagination might conjure in regards to debauchery. Personally I have never met such a girl.
For a while I visited a young female, a girl of pleasure, and I can assure you that her behavior and demeanor could set an example for many a well-born and noble lady. She guided the conversation with wit, taste and spirit. And everybody who from time to time might taste her highest favor considered himself very lucky. One might say that she only made one lover at a time the happiest man in England.