by AnonYMous
"But my husband?"
"The door's bolted."
She pressed my head against her magnificent breasts, the while murmuring, "Are you also going to give me a baby, little scamp?"
I reencunted her and shot off joyously, but without fainting this second time.
Not until then had the glorious Marie been pregnant. The months flew by. I became the father of Mademoiselle Beauconin, the only child of my brother-in-law of that name.
I shall pass in silence over all the common fuckeries in which I had a principal role. 'Tis only by dint of the singular voluptuousness in libidinous scenery such as will appear in the tasty pleasure-takings which I plan to describe in the sequel, that one may touch the heart and mind of blasé libertines and combat the atrocious penchants quickened by the abominable literature of the infamous and cruel Sade. And so I reserve all my energy for representing almost ineffable, almost indescribable lovemakings, couplings which outdo everything the racked imagination of Justine's author was able to invent.
Chapter Two
Before moving on to the tableaux I have just promised, I must nevertheless devote a few lines to relating an extraordinary adventure I had during my stay in the rue Saint-Honoré, at the age of twenty and while engaged in my studies of the law.
Directly opposite the house lived an old watchmaker who had a youthful and charming wife. She was his third. The first had rendered him very happy indeed for a dozen years – life with her had been uninterrupted drunkenness, delight – the second had also done mightily well, but for only eighteen months and with the aid of a younger sister who would replace her in the marital bed whenever the wife felt in the slightest way indisposed, because she did not want to have her husband fuck under unfavorable, and possibly disgusting, circumstances. This excellent and thoughtful wife having left this life, the watchmaker, then sixty, married the pretty and gracious Fidelette, putative offspring of an architect but in reality the child of a marquis.
For mellowness and poignancy, this third wife's beauty had no equal. Her husband idolized her, but he was no longer young. However, being wealthy, he lavished upon her everything her heart could desire. But his gifts and kindnesses failed somehow of the mark, and with every passing day Fidelette grew more despondent.
"My angel," her good husband said, "I worship you, and you know it. All the same, you are unhappy, and I fear for your days. There is nothing I would not do for you. Tell me what it is you desire – anything, no matter what, provided it is in my power to secure your happiness, I shall do as you bid me..."
"Anything? No matter what?" asked the young woman.
"Anything, yes. Is there something wanting to your heart, or to your divine little cunt?"
"You fill my heart to overflowing, my dear, but elsewhere ... I have a spirited temper and warm blood, and my trick itches terrible."
"Does it make any difference to you who undertakes to appease your dear little hungers? Or have you some special taste, some particular caprice?"
"I love no one but you."
"Is there not anyone who attracts your regard? Only speak and I shall this instant go and bring him hither."
"Ah, well ... there is that neighbor of ours who lives across the way, the young man who looks at me and of whom I've already complained."
"I understand. 'Tis enough, my sweet. You must have thought me thick-skinned indeed. Go take your bath, my beloved one. I'll return in a trice."
He dashed off to find me. "Neighbor," said he upon entering my room, "'tis rumored you are in love with Madame Folin, the watchmaker's wife. Is it true?"
"Upon my soul," said I, "it is indeed, I am wild about her."
"Then come with me and we'll see what's to be done. Come at once." He seized me by the hand and led me to his house. "Remove your clothes. Then go into this bathroom which my wife has just left. There you see some of my undergarments. Put them on and go regale her. Play the new husband or settle the thing for some other night – for twenty other nights. Suit yourself so long as you also suit her. I worship my Fidelette and I would do anything for her and am content simply to see her happy, satisfied. After you've done fucking her, after she has had her fill of discharges and discharging, I'll encunt her in my turn ... and thus bestow my own modest little present."
He had me climb into the bed his wife had been occupying since finishing her bath and then he started to take himself off.
"Oh, dear friend," exclaimed that timid dove, "you leave me alone with a stranger? Will you not stay and witness the pleasures I owe to none but you?" And she kissed us both. The bed was wide and capacious. The considerate Folin got into it with us. I climbed upon his wife's belly. The fires were already burning brightly and my own torch glowed red. There, before the husband's eyes, I buried my prick in the wife's cunt. She replied to my attack, and furiously.
"Courage, dearie," cried that excellent watchmaker, fingering my nuggets, "let fly, my duckie, raise your ass, get your tongue into his mouth! This brave young fucker's ready to flood you. You, my buck, dig in, dig in, head for bottom, ring the bell!"
We discharged like a pair of angels. I fucked her six times before the night was over. Husband and wife were equally pleased with my performance.
I revelled in this remarkable situation and repeatedly tasted these celestial, more-than-human delights until Fidelette perished out of this world while in the act of bringing the fruit of our fuckery into it.
Chapter Three
I shall omit giving the full details of my amorous exploits with the person who was my clandestine wife, since I have never publicly acknowledged that marriage with Conquette. Although her looks had been marred by smallpox, she was a robust, splendidly made creature, with a cunt so insatiable that I was obliged to let her take the bit in her teeth and wander abroad to fuck whomever came her way. She was the daughter of an innkeeper in the rue Saint-Jacques and the sister of a bookseller; she died, syphilis-ridden, long after she'd borne me two girls. Ah, but that one knew her job to perfection! Never did a woman encunted treat her rider to a finer outing. Conquette was the first woman I ever embuggered, but that came about in reply to her invitation and at a moment when she was in doubtful health. Afterwards she foisted off her younger sister's ass on me, telling me 'twas her own: we were in the dark and I believed her, but the target the young lady presented me was not her ass but her cunt. I detected the fraud but have no real grievance to express: it was delicious howbeit everyday fuckery.
When my sister-in-law married and ceased to be at our disposal, my wife seduced her hairdresser, whom she heartily urged to submit to an anal penetration, alleging, as argument, that I was habituated to navigating the narrower strait. But this girl, having discussed the problem with me during the day, got her cunt plumbed that night without Conquette noticing into which aperture I inserted my device. In this way I had six all very pretty hairdressers in the course of twelve years; my wife paid them, thinking by this means to conceal from me the fact she had the pox. And 'twas thus I enjoyed a feast of those delightful cuntlets for which Nature had given me such a powerful appetite.
It was after the sixth hairdresser that Conquette, gravely ill, noticing that one of my schoolfellows was paying court to Mademoiselle Beauconin, my niece-daughter. She noticed that obstacles to his success were being created, and that my niece-daughter loved him, so she suggested to Mariette that she allow her lover to have his way with her, but fearing lest the lad be unable to depucelate her, she told me that the last of the hairdressers was sending one of her pupils who stood in dire need of a good encunting. But, she added, I was not to say a word while doing the task, reminding me that my niece was sleeping in the adjoining chamber. She gave me further instructions to which I hardly listened, as I was eager to be off. A hairdresser's pupil? Provided I fucked a fresh young cunt, I cared damned little to whom it belonged. Naked, I approached the bed and stepped in. I found newly burgeoning breasts at hand, and a cunt which lay quivering.
I entered, I demolished the maiden
head. I had repeated the exercise three times when I was summoned from the bed. At first I fancied this to be some convention of which hitherto I had been in ignorance, but having listened more closely, I was most surprised to hear the spur being applied to my mount and my wife, while proffering encouragements, giving directions to her niece and my comrade. I went back to my own bed, pondering these curious events. The following day, I asked Conquette for an explanation.
"Why," she said, "'tis all very simple. You handselled your niece before your schoolmate stuffed her, for I doubted whether all alone he would be able to manage the deflowering." I was enchanted. I had made mine the first fruits of the daughter emplanted one remote holiday in Marie Linguet's cunt, but I dissimulated my joy: this augured well for the pleasures I had for ages held hopes of enjoying and whose hour of realization was arriving. I was nearing my objective.
The reader will recall that I spoke of two daughters: I said they were mine, or at least that they were my clandestine wife's, for she used to declare that her veritable daughters had died while being suckled and that ... and that ... she would speak of the king ... mention some princess ... but she always lied a blue streak; one simply dared not believe a word she said.
Conquette Ingénue, my elder daughter, had no sooner reached her first youth than she stared to incite desires in me. While her mother, whose syphilis was not yet apparent, was off sleeping and fucking with some gallant or other, she would send little Conquette to keep me company in bed She had the world's prettiest crack. I made a regular practice of kissing it every night, after having spread her thighs. She would fall into a light sleep and I would insert my tongue, but would refrain from licking; then I too would go quietly to sleep, having eased her onto her side, her buttocks against my thighs and my prick squeezed between her legs.
During the daytime I encunted either the mistress of a certain barrister, Monsieur Rivière, or a pretty hunchback, who always wore delightful shoes and who lived in the same building, or a woman who limped in both legs but who had a delicious face and was about to marry. She had let her intended deflower her and since that initiation had given her pretty blond cunt an absolute minimum of rest. When not at work on one or the other of these three projects, I would poke my prick between Conquette Ingénue's tightly squeezed thighs and she, feeling that uncomfortable presence, would seize it, sound asleep as she was, and cause me a spectacular discharge. She had caught the drift of things and started to chatter about them: we sent her away to learn a trade. She learned to draw. At the end of a two year absence she returned to the house, where I had been left alone since my wife's death. Conquette Ingénue slept in a small room adjacent to mine. She was a tall, handsomely formed girl with perfect feet. I had the cleverest artisan in the quarter make her shoes modeled after her mother's last which were also that of the Marquise de Marigny. Then I fell head over heels in love with the creature. But never was anyone more chastely virtuous than that heavenly girl, although her mothers, real or supposed, had been a pair of sluts and had both succumbed to the pox. Conquette Ingénue would not tolerate insolent behavior and there was no possible way of taking liberties with her. Fate doubtless willed it that her austerity would only make her the more voluptuous and the more desirable.
And so I found myself reduced to virtual beggardom: there was nothing for it, and I continued to tongue her during her sleep which, happily, was invariably profound. Directly she began to slumber I would fly to my post, lift her nightgown, gaze worshipfully at her delicious cunt, which a faint growth of down was beginning to cover, and ply my mouth with caution. Not before the tenth night after her return home did I sense her respond to these attentions; I redoubled my tongue's activity and was rewarded by an emission. The light was out when Ingénue awoke, sighing and moaning happily.
"Ah," she murmured, "ah ... that tickles so nicely." She imagined she had been dreaming. However, she nudged her young sister (who slept in the same bed beside her) with her elbow, as though she had thought the child had been responsible for what she had felt. I regained my bed, enchanted by the fact my daughter had discharged. Her emission encouraged me to hope that her spirits were now set in commotion and now aware of her own temperament, she would soon be susceptible of encuntment, become my mistress, and make me the happiest of mortals.
But how far astray my calculations led me! And what a great number of pricks were to attempt to martyrize that glorious cunt. Alas, it was to be the cause of myriad disappointments.
Nevertheless, such were my wholehearted, my unswerving, my voluptuous inclinations for that adorable girl, whose only rival for my affections was her sister. No, I can say it with all the conviction of a man who has had the experience. No, there is no pleasure to be compared with that of plunging one's straining prick into the last depths of the satin-smooth cunt of one's beloved daughter, above all if, courageously stirring her ass to and fro, she discharges copiously. Happy, oh, thrice happy he who steals the prize from any future son-in-law detested by both concerned...
Conquette Ingénue's menstrual period came a week after the historic night of her first discharge. Thus, she was perfectly nubile, but while in a waking state I could not obtain any essential favor from her. My sister Marie, who was thoroughly acquainted with my character, placed her as an apprentice in a women's dress and jewelry shop run by an attractive person whose husband had a functionary's post. Offering herself in the place of my spectacular daughter, although unable to console me for her loss, Madame Comprenant, the dressmaker, undertook to distract me. I also went back to stuffing my niece Beauconin, then married to her cousin. But would this double activity be able to prevent me from insulting the virtue of the eternally provocative Ingénue? Hopelessly in love with her and not daring in daylight to have at her darling downy cuntlet and deprived of access to her during the night, I had to be content with gazing at her from the street. There she would be – the window was so disposed that I was permitted the view of an exquisitely shod foot, part of a lovely leg. If I bent down, when she made certain movements, I could see her thighs and her cunt, or at least picture them in my imagination, which always beheld her unclothed. A mere glimpse of her would put my prick in the air. I would enter the house and at the crucial moment invariably find either Ingénue's mistress or the pretty Mademoiselle Beauconin. Just before threading the needle of the one or the other, I would half open the door so as, while fucking either her mistress or her cousin, I would be able to see the delicate foot or the voluptuous leg of that divine creature, who was exclusively responsible for my erection.
Four years passed in this manner. During that period Conquette Ingénue and I never once came to grips. Finally, not one whit less eager to have her, and she was magnificent at eighteen, I resolved somehow to arrange for her to sleep in my house. I hit upon the expedient of detaining her until a late hour and to keep her by me for the night using the pretext of a sudden illness. She slept just as soundly as she had years before; and so it was I fell to tonguing her directly after she had closed her eyes. Her discharge had the proportions of a river in flood. Her mons Veneris was superb, upholstered with a bush of jet-black hair, soft and fine. I burned with desire to stopper her cunt, but, as usual, her ejaculation had awakened her.
"How odd it is," she said, "whenever I stay the night under your roof I have the strangest dreams which do the strangest things to me!"
I limited myself simply to asking permission to kiss her slippered foot or sometimes her leg. By dint of much wheedling, I one time went so far as to get her to allow me to touch the velvety hair which embellished her trick. But the sensation so alarmed her and made her so skittish that, fearing lest I succeed in deflowering her before she became a married woman, she, aided by her mistress, Madame Comprenant, rushed precipitously into wedlock with, as it proved, a dreadful rotter of a fellow. It was that rash step I had the greatest trouble forgiving her. But the poor child suffered so much from her hasty decision, she had so much opportunity to repent of it, and her charming cunt was subseque
ntly to serve me so well, that I was more than willing to let bygones be bygones and forget the errors committed by youth and inexperience. I had yet another motive for compassion: I owe that execrable marriage a host of indescribable delights (as shall be seen in the pages to follow) as well as my present comfortable circumstances.
Chapter Four
The next Sunday, Conquette Ingénue was at my house as on weekends she customarily was. She could not avoid noticing that my prick was hard and upright as ever a prick can be. She trembled for her virginity; I had kissed her feet, her legs, but she had fended me clear of her cunt.
Of a sudden, I got to my feet, went around behind the chair she was sitting in and from behind slip my two hands under her bodice and seize her bubs. Ah, how pretty they were, small but firm, and so fair, so ripe! There was no way for her to elude me. It was then she declared in all seriousness that she wished to marry. I went and stood before her, my prick in the air and as solid as a mace: she blushed to her eyes. My spirits were in a prodigious ferment, I was in every nerve inflamed by love and lust. I announced that I would sign no marriage contract save upon condition she first let me depucelate her; she said that would never do. By main force I took hold of her cunt. She tried to back away.
"Is that not enough? You have touched me, now will you not give your consent?"
"I have to get my tongue into you..."
"Your tongue?" She seemed not to understand.
I explained. "My tongue indeed, and I propose to keep it there until you discharge."
She pondered the matter, then sighed, "Oh, all the things you've done to me! You were the cause of my dreams."
Lying down upon the bed, she resigned herself. "Satisfy yourself," said she, "and do not deceive me. I wish to be a maid upon my wedding day. Monsieur Vitnègre is a widower and Madame Comprenant says he knows all about these articles, whether they're new or used." During this speech I was feasting my eyes upon that ravishing article, upon the sight of a belly modeled like Aphrodite's and as white as ivory, of an alabaster thigh, of a satin-smooth ass.