“Ah, dear,” I said to her, seated by her side after this first engagement, “dear, you would have died of longing!”
I thought that the thing being done she would at last have unclosed her mouth, but no. She reanimated me ably with her hands, a little thin, a little long, all the time silent. When she saw me ready to furnish a second course, she raised herself, signed to me to follow her, conducted me herself almost to the door of the house, and showed me by the side of this door a pavilion into which I sprang, instead of putting my foot in the street.
An instant after, she rejoined me in this room, which was furnished with a bed. Laurence embraced me, all the time mute, undressed herself, all the time impassive.
No, she was not an antique statue. For instance, her breasts were as abundant as her backside, and by no means gave the idea of being two marble cups, but floated a little below her thin shoulders.
“Ah!” she said, in coming to present to me these over-rich charms, “here I am not afraid of speaking up. You can tell me your silly sayings — ” And in a lower tone of voice she added, “We can even in doing it-”
“Pronounce,” I said to her, “choose between those which please you the most.”
“Oh!” she murmured. “I dare not say it. I dearly love to-to be whipped!”
Charming desire! I satisfied her at once. I set myself to whip Laurence with the back of my hand. Her croup was soon reddened. She became excited, panted, foamed under this barbarous game. I saw her clitorising herself furiously whilst I struck. Her enjoyment was rapid.
“Again! Again!” she cried.
I recommenced to whip her, she recommenced clitorising herself. Spent, palpitating, she went and threw herself on the bed. I was not slow in following her; but, seeing her inert and bruised, I no longer hoped for anything from her, when, gliding on me, and enveloping me with her folds like a serpent, she took my dart between her breasts and commenced to rub it.
Briefly, she did me between her titties, the chaste Countess.
We did it afterwards in the greyhound fashion; we exhausted every posture. At last it was necessary to leave each other. In embracing Laurence a last time, I said to her, “You can count on my discretion, my dear.”
“Oh,” she replied, “I rely on myself taking the necessary steps to assure it.”
I left. I did not give a thought to this traitorous speech. Two days after, the Count returned. The morning after his return, I received the following note:
“You have abused a friendship of ten years to do me the last outrage. Neither the virtue nor the reproaches of the Countess have recalled you to yourself. The fear of the evil gossip of society alone prevents me from demanding satisfaction.”
Laurence had, in fact, taken the best means of assuring herself of my discretion by having me shown to the door. She had doubtless said that I had tried to violate her.
MOUNTED IN SILVER, OR THE LEUCADIAN LEAP
Blanche de Beauvoir to the Marquise de la Galissiere.
MADAME,
“I saw you yesterday at the Italian Opera. I love you.”
The Marquise de la Galissiere to Mademoiselle Blanche de Beauvoir.
“Mademoiselle,
“I received a strange letter from you yesterday. It is certainly a mystery. Explain yourself.”
Blanche to the Marquise.
“If you ask me to explain myself it is because you have understood me with half a word. Ah well, yes! I love you, I desire you; my eyes eagerly devoured you the day before yesterday. Are you above the prejudice which rejects the sweetest and most solid of pleasures? The sweetest because it is forbidden fruit, the most solid because it is the only one durable. Is it true that you have slept with the Princess Edwige? I am as apt as she.”
The Marquise to Blanche.
“Are you silent as the grave?”
Blanche to the Marquise.
“Silent as the grave, burning as flame.”
The Marquise to Blanche.
“When I used to visit the Princess Edwige I found with her a handsome cavalier to put the finish to our interview when we were tired of chatting together. With three, the time slips along more sweetly.”
Blanche to the Marquise.
“I will do what is necessary to extinguish the fire I have kindled. I will procure this handsome cavalier, Marquise of my heart. Till tomorrow.”
The Marquise to Blanche.
“But he must not show himself until we call him.”
“You see,” said Blanche, who had sent for me, after she had related her story, “she has still some shame. My dear, do you know, this is my only ambition! To gamahuche a lady of fashion!”
Excuse me, fair reader, the handsome cavalier which this madcap Blanche was going to offer to the Marquise was your humble servant.
I found Blanche at her toilette, and I can tell you that it was one of great nicety, in which I aided her to the best of my ability. It was I who covered her with essences, and with poudre a la marechale. You know that she is a fine girl, white, fair, and rounded in form. The two of us were together, I making some drops of eau de Portugal roll down her golden-haired mount, she receiving this libation with a feverish impatience. I wanted to take some liberties. She stopped me.
“Let us both preserve our strength,” she said to me.
The waiting-maid entered, carrying a sealed parcel addressed to Blanche. We eagerly opened it. The packet contained a superb dildo in a silver case bearing Royal arms, with this inscription engraved, “Edwige to her angel.”
Whilst we were admiring this curious article, a carriage stopped in front of the house. Blanche bustled me into a room adjoining her boudoir.
“I will introduce thee when it is time,” she cried.
“Eh, morbleu! why not at once?” and I started shaking the door, but she had firmly bolted it. I tried to peep through the key-hole-I could see nothing; but I heard.
I heard whisperings, kisses, the duckings of amorous hens, a froufrou of dresses slipping to the ground, light boots thrown to a distance, then a silence.
“Stark naked, stark naked!” cried Blanche. “Ah! I hold thee, Marquise!”
“Call me whore!” said the great lady.
“Oh, the pretty bibi!”
“Ah! the lovely coynte!”
The sofa groaned. Then there were sighs, furious yells. Suddenly there was an interruption caused by Blanche, who coughed, spat, and choked.
“Dear angel,” said the Marquise, “what is it then? One of my hairs in thy throat?”
“One has never seen such long ones! Ah, here it is!”
And the sighs began again.
“My love,” cried the Marquise, “the man, is he here?”
The door opened. What a spectacle!
Blanche, naked as a savage queen, led me forward. I saw her accomplice stretched on the sofa, in the same costume of nature, her body marked all over with kisses and bitings, her thighs widely opened, her flanks agitated with convulsive thrillings, her head thrown back on the cushions, and her face covered with a handkerchief.
“Blanche,” she murmured, “I can do no more; let him come.”
Parbleu! I came. These abundant thighs and the black bush half-opened, all this transported me with a sacred fury. I sprang on the sofa, I encoynted the fair one. At the first stroke which she returned me, the handkerchief fell.
“My cousin la Galissiere!”
“My cousin de la Brulaye!”
“Ah! so much the worse! I–I am feeling it!”
“I dis-I discharge!”
The spasm had seized us both like a flash of lightning, and spared us the embarrassment of so strange a meeting.
“Then you have kissed me, my cousin.”
“Then I have futtered you, my cousin.”
Blanche fairly writhed with laughter.
“They are relations!” she cried. “They are relations!”