“And why not?”
“It's very simple, really. If I had not liked your attentions, I would have resisted. And if I had resisted you would have doubled your attentions.”
“Unforgettable Vargendo.”
I took her in my arms and kissed her tenderly.
She answered my kisses with fire.
“You are right, my dear. In this manner, restraint would be impossible to ask from me.”
“Isn't it? My dearest Baron, I love you and I would have given in to your endearments long ago if it were not for the fact that my bridegroom… you know what I mean.”
“And if I were to implore you now about reciprocating my love for you?”
“If I didn't, I would not have deserved being saved by you.”
I pulled her down with me on the sofa and my hand reached the temple of her love without any obstacles. The very lips seemed to breathe passion.
We emptied the cup of passion three times, each time with as much pleasure and delight as the previous one. I assure you that my whole being has very seldom experienced so many ecstatic delights.
However, it was Signora Dievelli who gave me a taste of what a truly voluptuous Italian woman is like. One night, a little old woman picked me up from my home around midnight and delivered me-Lord knows after how many dark stairways, corridors and portals — into a beautifully decorated room. Finally, a masked lady, dressed in a floor-length cloak entered, sat down next to me and talked about the enormous risk she took and the enormous risk I was about to take if I could not keep a secret. Meanwhile, because of her love for me, she would not drop her mask till she had received from me the strongest reassurances possible as to my secrecy, because she loved me too passionately and would rather burn in her own passion than endanger my life in any form or manner.
Since I had already gone this far, I saw no reason why I should not give her those hotly desired assurances.
She dropped her mask and the cloak slid down to the floor. An incredible beauty stood before me. I was so dumbfounded that I could not move and I just stood there while she walked up to me, embraced me and pressed a voluptuous kiss upon my lips. I encircled her beautiful body and felt voluptuous ripples go up and down her spine.
I took off her clothes and was agape with admiration. She had by far the most beautiful body I had ever seen. I let my face rest upon her heaving bosom. She played with my hair and kissed my forehead. Her breath was voluptuous. Every single one of her movements was voluptuous. Every muscle in her body stretched voluptuously and beckoned me toward her. We stretched out upon the soft bed; she held me floatingly even before my prick had touched the entrance of her grotto. She embraced me fiercely, groaned and sighed and her eyes glazed voluptuously when she felt the god of love. She received him with a joyful quiver; her entire body took on a rose-colored blush and as soon as she felt the approach of the sacrifice she stemmed herself on hands and feet and held me floating. My staff emptied his vessel and she groaned lightly. Her movements be-came convulsive and when her fountain of passion opened it flooded down in great gusts.
We took our time recuperating, then got up and had some refreshments. I could not get enough of seeing, feeling and exploring her marvelous body. I kissed, fondled and caressed it. She rewarded every one of my touches with an outburst of passion. I sat on a chair and she stood next to me; I played with her Venus mound and the curls of the surrounding bushes. Both shores of her passion river were high, and a gleaming pink framed them. The god Hymen stood at the entrance, longing.
My signora curled her arms around my neck, kissed me, nibbled my lips and sucked my tongue and ere I knew what was happening, she sat on my lap and pressed her full bosom against my chest. I lifted myself a little and my staff visited Hymen. They barely touched each other when she started to jump up and down in my lap; her full milky globes gamboled like spring lambs in the meadow; she groaned, quivered, closed her eyes, and finally collapsed, her head lolling on my shoulders.
“Oooh… I can't anymore!”
And a quick burst flowed out of her fountain.
I struggled out of the chair, carrying her to the bed where I ascended the throne of love. I guided my prick into its proper place, crossed her legs behind my back, lifted her buttocks, played with my fingers in her cleft and started the battle all over again.
My sweet signora closed her eyes, her breathing changed into a wild choking sound, and when I sacrificed my life's juice, a marvelous fragrance exuded from her body, headier than the finest wine.
We savored the same pleasure with as much intensity another four times, the highest pleasures of mortals, ere we drifted off into the arms of Morpheus. It seemed as if we gained strength after each encounter rather than losing it. The burning, passionate fire was finally extinguished.
My entire stay in Florence became doubly pleasant because of my affair with this woman and we never were together anywhere without bringing at least one sacrifice to the goddess of love. She was of a very passionate nature and even if the place happened to be uncomfortable, she was inventive enough to find a position or a new twist so that our pleasures were in no way diminished.
Once we were in the theater, the contents of the play had inflamed her imagination. I sat next to her, noticed her heaving bosom and went with my hand under her skirt. No resistance. On the contrary, she got up and made it possible for my voluptuous hand to stray wherever it wanted. When the act was over and the music started, she pulled the curtains of the loge down, stemmed one foot on a chair, and, amidst the jubilant tones of the orchestra, we brought our delicious sacrifice to Venus.
I don't want to bore you, dear reader, with the details of my trips to Venice, Naples, and Rome. All my acquaintanceships were fleeting, and mostly of similar nature. But one thing I firmly believe and that is that either the climate or the voluptuous nature of the women must contribute to the fact that the more voluptuous sacrifices brought at the altar of love and passion, the greater the desire and the greater the strength to do it.
Weakening and loss of vigor as in the North is unknown.
BOOK FOUR
1. A REVIEW OF SEVERAL YEARS
I returned to Blassenheim and my father himself was there to receive me. The joy of our meeting was great. I showed him the plans I had made to beautify my future home and he liked my ideas very much. I left the managerial duties to Balthasar and visited Frau von Glossen for a pleasurable week. She was still an admirable woman.
Thereafter I visited various German courts and kissed the hands of many a lady, but I no longer had any desire to get more intimately acquainted with them. And even if I found myself now and then in the embraces of some lady, I realized that it was only lust and not love and it felt as if I was taking food without the pleasure of the spices.
I had one pleasant adventure when I stopped off in a neighboring town. I lived on the third floor of the city's best hotel and one night, before going to bed, I decided to take a little stroll. Upon returning I wandered into the wrong room and, without noticing my mistake, I undressed and went to bed. Somewhat later the door opened again and two young women came in, accompanied by their chambermaid.
The bed curtains were drawn and my nightgown was still on top of the blanket. I was very quiet and waited, full of anticipation. The chambermaid helped both young ladies undress and the girls were talking about the uncle they had planned to visit but it seemed that the gentleman had not been home.
I would have liked to cover myself up or put something on in order not to scare the young ladies, but any noise might have disturbed them. The maid left to make some tea, and I was alone with two lovely young ladies.