After dinner, he approached me, asked to be allowed to pay me a visit, and talked to my husband, whom he pleased vastly. Madame D. sat down at the piano and played a lively waltz; Monsieur D. said that I was a good partner and asked me to take a turn with him, but he was old and soon fatigued, so Monsieur F. offered to take his place.
As I felt his arm encircle my waist I was taken with a nervous tremor that evidently did not escape him.
I gave myself up to the charm of the hour. Monsieur F. boldly profited by the embrace in which he held me, in spite of the spectators. As he turned a corner of the drawing room, he was able to press me so tightly to him that I felt for a second against my belly a certain object so hard and stiff, that I was nearly fainted.
That waltz was the signal of my defeat!
The happy evening was too soon over. Once more at home.
I undressed quickly, and pretending fatigue said good night to my husband, jumped into bed, not to sleep, but to dream.
I was placed on my left side, my bottom turned to Charles; a caprice seized him; I felt him softly lift my linen, and then, pressing against me, he tried to get into me from behind. I was vexed at first, but, my temperament overpowering me, I gave way to his designs, but he could not manage it, and he did not get in.
I lost all patience, and rapidly threw off the sheet by a sudden movement, I passed my hand behind me, seized the dart, which was useless without a guide, and stuffed it into my body to the last inch. I was thinking of Monsieur F. the whole time. I imagined that he was behind me, and that he was doing it to me. Under my breath I addressed to him all that I was burning to say at such a moment.
Three times the dew of love gushed out for him, for him alone! My husband, profiting, unwittingly by the result of my thoughts, did his duty a little better than usual, and refreshed me with a copious ejaculation.
When he had retired, I feared that, with his habitual ridiculous reserve, he would have made a fuss about the spontane175 ous movement that made me seize and imprison his instrument myself, but he seemed, on the contrary, grateful to me.
I made a note thereof for the future.
The next day, Monsieur F. came to pay us a visit, but we were out and I was really grieved when I found his card. He returned on the third day, and his persistence pleased me greatly; my husband was at home, we received him as cordially as possible and pressed him to come often.
I fancied that he treated me with particular warmth of feeling, and I was happy at the thought!
A gentle intimacy quickly sprang up between us, my love grew greater each day, and I already saw that my adored F. reciprocated the feeling. Although he had said nothing as yet, I was sure of it — what woman ever makes a mistake?
We had, as yet, never been alone together; I ardently desired and yet feared that moment. I did not wish to abandon myself entirely at the first interview, and I felt that it would be impossible for me to resist one single instance! I resolved to know more of him, to try him… but all my strength of will melted away directly I saw him. In such a state of mind, how could I resist his attack?
That was quickly proved! One day, he came at three o'clock; my husband was away, but I had a visitor, a wearisome female, who had no idea of getting up and going. I I could see my dear F. waiting and suffering, but at last, not being decently able to remain any longer, he took his leave, giving me a supplicating look that I was powerless to resist.
I said to him: "Has not my husband promised you such and such a book?"
"Yes, madam, and I had hoped to be able to take it with me to-day/' "I will give it you — Pardon me, madam," said I to my eternal bore, "and permit me to leave you for an instant."
We were in a small reception room that served as my boudoir. P., who understood me, went out and waited for me in the big drawing room, whither I rejoined him, with an odd volume in my hand.
In an instant, he declared his passion. What he said — what I answered, I know not. I remember nothing.
I led him towards the hall, for fear we should be overheard.
There was a double door between the drawing room and a little vestibule, where I could hear a servant. As we reached there, Monsieur F., beside himself, seized me in his arms, and a lingering kiss, a kiss of fire, a kiss that responded to my soul, arrested a shriek that I should not have been able to stifle.
At the same time, his prompt hand had lifted my petticoats, and was scientifically caressing my burning slit, that quick as lightning poured out upon his fingers palpable traces of the spendings that filled it to overflowing.
"Begone,… begone!.. away," I said, with stifled accents.
"Go… To-morrow… three o'clock"; and I fled in a state which I cannot describe.
Happily, the lady who was waiting was not very clever, and did not notice my disordered state.
I shall not undertake to narrate my feelings till the next day.
All that I can remember is, that I firmly resolved to satisfy my erotic longings.
My husband intended to absent himself for two or three days, and I arranged so as to send my servants on different errands. I dressed myself carefully and waited.
My dear F. arrived. I opened the door to him myself, and led him to my boudoir.
We sat down, much embarrassed. He was very respectful and asked my pardon for what he had done the day before, saying that he was unable to master the delirious rage that had seized him, and that his love for me was such that he would die if he was unable to enjoy me.
I knew not how to answer. Both our hearts were too full.
He took my hand and kissed it. Shuddering, I rose. Our mouths met. I confess I made no more attempts at resistance.
I had not the strength to do so.
I fully enjoyed this intense happiness. I felt that he was carrying me along — but to where? What were we to do? In my boudoir there were only a very narrow low sofa, some armchairs, and ordinary seats without arms.
F., still holding me in his arms, sat on a chair, so that I found myself in front of him, leaning over his head and face.
I felt one of his arms loose my waist; soon my clothes were all up in front, and F. tried to pass his knees between my legs.
"Oh, no," said I, between two sobs. "No,… I pray you, have pity."
F. made efforts to pull me down, so as to straddle across him; but on instinctive feeling, although I longed for it, I still resisted, and stiffened myself against him. We soon became exhausted. At last, having dropped my eyes a little, I saw something that put an end to the struggle.
F. had taken out his instrument for the fray. Its ruby, haughty head stood up proudly. In length and thickness really uncommon, it vied even with that of Monsieur B. I had no strength to resist such a sight; my thighs opened by themselves. I slid down hiding my face on my lover's shoulder, and I gave myself up to him, opening myself as much as possible, desiring, and yet fearing the entrance of such a handsome guest.
I soon felt the head between the lips of my grotto, that the thin tool of my husband had not accustomed to such a bountiful measure. I made a movement to help him, and had hardly introduced the point, when I felt myself flooded by a flaming jet of loving liquor that covered my thighs and belly.
The prolonged wait, and his own passion, had made the precious dew pump up too quickly, and I had not been able to enjoy it as I should.
I could not help showing a little disappointment, but my lover, covering me with kisses, told me that I need wait but during a brief period of repose, and that I should soon be more satisfied with him.
We sat on the sofa, entwined in each other's arms, telling one another of our love and happiness; we had fallen in love at first sight, and both had given way to irresistible passion.
In a few moments I saw that my lover was ready to begin again, and I asked myself how we were going to do it. I did not wish to try again that posture that had turned out so badly for me, and I could see F. also looking about him.