Eroticon 3

by J. P. Spencer

  What an epoch in my life! What magic voluptuousness! What mysterious gift of the Gods! You are indescribable. The fortunate creature that knows best how to savour you will forever be deprived of words to express your heavenly delights.

  I warned you, gentle reader, that I am the very devil for randy pleasures but the rest of this story will prove that I have an honest heart. I pride myself on a few good qualities: I know the way of the world and nobody is better at saving appearances when I want to. However, lest anything connected with fucking should surprise you as far as I am concerned, I repeat that on this point I am possibly the most determined creature that this century has produced. The seed of this passion, this vice, this crime (if it pleases your prejudices to describe my nymphomania thus) has been with me since birth. I had scarcely begun to be conscious of my identity when I became uncontrollable in my desires. And once I had had my first orgasm, I became equally abandoned in my flights of licentious fantasy.

  I challenge any sentimental beauty, madly in love, who has for long resisted and finally succumbed to the blandishments of her beloved - I challenge her to show that she got more enjoyment from doing so than I got from my charming young man's second accolade. All the same - be indulgent to me, gentle reader, and cast no stones at me for the wickedness I am about to confess to you - all the same, I say, I had scarcely emerged from his arms when I felt a pang of envy of Félicité, who I thought had done even better than I.

  Since I had been idle, I delighted in watching the other couple. The fair young man was marvellous at his work: four times, almost without a break, he had proved his ardour to the happy maid and now he was preparing for the fifth...

  But, horror of horrors, disaster of disasters! Our door opened. Not the communicating door which, that morning, had enabled me to see Mother engaged in such surprising activities - we had taken good care to remove the key to that; it was the main door to our rooms from the corridor that ran through the entire sleeping quarters of the convent and one that, as is customary in such establishments, had no bolts. The devil must have handed my mother a second key; the only one we knew about was in the possession of the Mother Superior. In short, it was my mother who came in. Her appearance was like a bolt from the blue to us.

  Félicité and I were - it will be recalled - stark naked and our hair was dishevelled; the gentlemen were just as tousled as we and had on nothing but their vests and silk pants, which clung to their skin, garments that were, in any case, useless because Félicité, lying on the mattress hard by the door, had just for the fifth time implanted in herself the object the name of which I am tired of ceaselessly repeating. It was this configuration that first met my curious mother's eyes.

  As for me, I was on the point of behaving just as scandalously because, after a few moments of rest, my little fucksman had become proudly upstanding once more. So, as I could not at the moment put into practice the idea of a swap which had tempted me, I was going to use instead what I had in my hand.

  Félicité's beau preserved complete self-control and evidently did not think it appropriate to devaginate; he merely asked drily,

  'Who on earth is that woman?'

  'Good heavens,' I exclaimed. 'It's Mother.'

  At this point, they did separate.

  I hurried to draw the curtains to conceal, if still possible, my nudity, that of my young man and the unequivocal activities in which we had been surprised, from a mother's eyes. Mother - whether on account of violent emotion, fear or pretence - suddenly appeared speechless and sapped of all strength. She fell into the nearest chair and seemed to faint. Straight away, nature overcame my shame and horror and, naked as I was, I rushed up to her to offer my assistance. Félicité quickly put on a shift. As for me, two equally important concerns made me forget the incongruous situation in which I found myself: one was to revive Mother and the other to prevent her going back to her room, getting dressed and then raising the alarm. Quite soon Mother came to or pretended to; as soon as she did, she fought off my arms which were hugging her. She pushed me away and leant back in her chair, her face buried in tightly crossed hands, apparently heart-broken. Our young men had already dressed and as they could now take my place in guarding the door and stopping my mother leaving the room, I was able to put my clothes on in turn. But whatever would be the outcome of this bizarre scene?

  In the first place, what was the meaning of my mother's immobility and her hesitation at a time when one would have expected her to explode with angry reproaches? Let us try and analyse her first reactions and investigate whether her conduct could be considered natural.

  There must have been a lot of noise coming from our room and she must have heard it; we were at fault in not being more careful, the men as well as ourselves, and behaving as if we were the only people in the world. But what could Mother have imagined? It had to be some act of wrong-doing. So why turn up? Was it to prevent some kind of disorder? She must surely have known it was too late for that. Did she want to take the participants of whatever was going on to task? If that were the case, it should not have been she who came, or at least not by herself; it would have been more suitable and more certain to have called the Mother Superior and for the two of them to have faced us together. Perhaps she feared a scandal and my being disgraced? That could be.

  But here was another way of looking at things. My mother was the same woman who had got herself so excited that morning. Was it not likely that, exhilarated at the thought of some libidinous scene, she was quite drawn to the idea of surprising us in the act, though planning to make a great fuss, if need be, for form's sake? She probably did not expect us to be involved in proper love affairs, each one of us with a man; she probably expected no more than some lesbian skirmish. It was probably the extreme lengths to which we had gone that shocked her.

  If we were embarrassed by the situation and if my mother was, the gentlemen were no less so. Nothing would be easier for them to depart as they had come but reaching the garden was not enough. To get out of the convent, they needed the knight; only he could guide them to a certain secret place, of which I shall have more to say later, through which they had come in. They did not have much to fear on their own account - but what troubles would we be exposed to after their departure? For her part, my mother was waiting for them to withdraw - that was the only explanation for her present silence. Yet they refused to budge. This stalemate had lasted almost a quarter of an hour when at last the Knight put in his eagerly awaited appearance.

  'Well, my children,' he said as soon as his head appeared at the window, 'how are you? How did things work out?'

  Four long faces, sad looks and a mournful silence immediately apprised him of the fact that something untoward had happened. He stepped through the casement window and saw a fifth person.

  'What is the meaning of this?' he said, addressing Félicité's fair young man. The latter made some reply in a foreign tongue. When informed of the situation, the Knight collected his thoughts for a moment.

  'What a business,' he said emerging from his brief reverie. He then went straight up to my mother who - probably resigned to whatever this strange night might bring - had not made the slightest movement when a sixth person joined us, nor even as much as glanced at him.

  The bold Knight then fell at her feet; she had nothing on but her night-dress and a carelessly arranged shawl - but no matter! He shamelessly pressed against her, embraced her thighs and said,

  'Oh, worthy lady. How culpably we have acted towards you!'

  The crowning offence she thought she detected in this sham act of contrition made her furious. She turned the eyes of a Gorgon on the speaker... their eyes met... they stared.

  What a dramatic turn of events, how unexpected and how striking! Some trouble, the result of some violent emotion, agitated my mother; satisfaction, taking the form of roguishness, could be read in every one of the lascivious Knight's features. In the twinkling of an eye, the two had changed roles.

  'I can't believe my eyes. It's
you, Séraphine!' That was my mother's Christian name. 'What miracle brings you here?'

  Instead of answering, my mother again hid her chagrined face; she seemed desperately unhappy.

  'Vouchsafe me another look, so that I can be certain of having seen again the dearest and most regretted of my lady friends and that this piece of good fortune is no mere dream.'

  As she stubbornly refused to budge, the Knight had all the time in the world to assure us by gestures that he was on such good terms with the ruler of our destinies that he would be able to arrange everything to our advantage.

  'Do please look upon me,' he said in the most dramatic tone of voice. 'Can you have failed to recognise or, worse still, can you repudiate the old friend who...'

  My mother, without replying, pushed him away, as if wanting to brush him aside.

  'Ungrateful creature! After all the favours!...'

  Here the poor woman, fearing with good reason a flow of reminiscences, sat up sharply, covered his mouth with one hand and said in a voice full of pride and anger which, for the moment, made her interesting, 'Fill the measure to overflowing, you traitor! Spare no effort to dishonour us!'

  That was saying a good deal and could not now be unsaid.

  'Indeed,' the seasoned Knight answered, getting to his feet but still holding my mother in his arms. 'This is no case for guarded words; in your hands they would become dangerous weapons. Yes, my friends, yes, ladies, whatever excesses you may have permitted yourselves together, take note that Madame has done worse than that and that I can tell you all about it. Can she have forgotten all our many assignations' - at this point he looked at her - 'or that notorious street?... Or the woman at whose house...'

  In chorus we asked him to spare my mother who seemed about to pluck out her eyes and her beautiful hair of which she was so proud.

  The Knight skilfully resisted all our efforts.

  'Let her then come to her senses; let her do herself justice and above all promise to pardon us all.'

  'Pardon you, you monster, for my own dishonour and that of my daughter! To forgive your infamous pimping? I can see very well that it is you who arranged everything. Forgive the insolent guttersnipe who has perverted an innocent creature too lightly entrusted to her perfidious care? No, no, you rogues. You shall all hang.'

  Neither remorse nor fear was contained in the violent tirade with which Félicité reacted.

  'Just listen to Madame's fine speeches! Anybody would think she was as pure as the driven snow and that we are not worthy to kiss the dust off her feet. Tell us, your ladyship, this morning when with a dirty book in your hands you were doing you-know-what with such gusto, what would you have done if one of these gentlemen had happened to be there, I ask you? And what would you have put in the place we saw you so clearly stroking with your finger?'

  My mother was stunned at these words.

  'Oh,' the cruel maid went on to even wilder reaches of impudence, 'don't these words provoke depths of pity! She may be a whore like all of us but the wolves must devour each other all the same. I detest this kind of hypocritical claptrap.'

  I severely bade the disrespectful servant hold her tongue and everybody supported me. My mother was dumbfounded and turned to stone.

  As for the Knight, who had just one aim, he seized upon what he felt would lead him to his goal by making the following plea.

  'Beautiful Mother,' he said tenderly, 'it is up to you to help yourself and I am here beside you. No, I shall never allow you to fast like this when the food I know you crave is there for the asking. I had no idea you were in this dreary place. What name do you go under here? But let that pass; the only thing that matters is that we are reunited; I am, as ever, at your command, I swear it. As heaven is my witness, but for the most extraordinary adventures, which took me away from these parts for such a long time, I should never ever have ceased to be indefatigably at your service.'

  These jaunty gallantries were accompanied by gestures which my mother had great trouble in preventing from flowing over into extreme insolence.

  If her bosom was skilfully protected, her cunt was in danger of being occupied. She struggled to free herself but every movement revealed another sample of her mature charms. In spite of her thirty-six years, she was still most attractive. Fair like myself, and - like me - without the insipidity with which that type of beauty is often reproached, she was plump without being flabby, with two dazzlingly white breasts, which were closer to being a pair of little rogues than old reprobates (**It was Voltaire who once said to a lady who displayed her once beautiful bosom: 'little rogues have become old reprobates.') with a smooth belly, a well-rounded bum, she greatly benefited, and did not suffer from all that the Knight laid bare. He himself had caught fire and displayed quite a different order of courage than he might have done if it were not - for reasons of policy - a question of making my mother commit an act of folly which would stop her exposing our own. It was this that made him brave the blows, the scratches and the bites with which Mother sought to defend herself.

  I shall not, gentle reader, spin out this description of a scene that was more amusing than sexually stimulating. My mother was lifted up from her chair by the hips and thighs, lightly carried through the room and deposited across the middle of the bed, the same bed that I had been so deliciously fucked on. It was now Mummy's turn and this demon of a Knight got down to work on her.

  To tell the truth, we saw him start in a somewhat questionable condition, similar to that of tired horses which do not recover their strength until they have gone a few paces. His tired prick had scarcely touched the edges of her cunt when it entered it, sheathed itself to the hilt and got going at a respectable pace. It must be confessed that morality would have required this penetration to be effected with more difficulty in view of the courageous resistance my mother had put up to begin with; still, it was a case of rape and my mother, by now doing nothing positive to help him could be said to be protesting against the violence that a villain was doing her.

  As soon as the Knight had achieved his principal aim, he thought about us.

  'Oh, my children,' he said to his comrades, 'it is high mass I am celebrating here. To make it more solemn, I need a deacon and subdeacon. So each of you must seize one of these delightful young rogues. ...That's it, bravo! I expect one on the right of me and the other on the left, and I invite you to follow my example.'

  I found myself within reach of Félicité's fair young man.

  'She's yours, Count,' the Knight said in a tone of command.

  So, without actually doing anything about it, I came to change horses (or should it be riders?) in mid-stream.

  'Go on, Your Highness,' he now said, in a tone that was less familiar, to the younger man who did not disobey the order and pushed the very willing Félicité into the vacant space on the bed. So we were both thrown down, very closely flanking my defiant and still scowling mother, who was on the point of taking this new arrangement and our close proximity as a fresh affront. But what woman can get really angry when she is engaged with a prick eight or nine inches long stuffed into her by a most charming young man and when two other people offended against in the same way as herself take it all with a laugh?

  All the same, I dreaded the moment when my new penetrator would implant his enormous joy-stick in me but I armed myself with courage. It was as hard as iron and as hot as a fire-brand. No matter, the handsome, fair young man fondled me, adjusted my position, kissed me and half opened me up; he thrust, I counter-thrust and performed at least half the work; my little cunt fulfilled all my own hopes, withstood the assault, allowed itself to be penetrated and finally lodged within itself all the young man had. Thanks be to Venus, all went well. We now proceeded to fuck in great style; I was still stimulated by the proximity of my mother, who - quickly overcome by pleasure - had forgotten she was being raped, at first moved her body with a reluctant expression, to be replaced by a more complaisant one until she could no longer be bothered to keep up appearances,
raised her buttocks, jigged up and down and made the bedstead, which before us had hardly been used to such goings-on, not squeak but groan... If my mother could behave like this under my very eyes and beside me, I had the right to let my hair down, too. So I at once wriggled lustily under my fair attacker, which made him laugh, and I was mischievous enough to say to him, before the solemn moment which brings with it the supreme voluptuous crisis,

  'Don't be surprised. I may be young but spirited souls do not wait upon the years to show their mettle.'

  My mother, without for a moment desisting from her own interesting preoccupations, still had the presence of mind to punish me for my boldness by slapping me with the back of her hand under my thigh. The while, Félicité was not idle with her charming greenhorn: she tossed him about with variations and, mistress of her art that she was, gave him a memorable lesson. There we were then, three inflamed cunts under three masterful cocks, jigging our arses up and down, sobbing with delight and giving the impression of waves on the sea raised by a gale. As the three athletes were a little fatigued - the Knight had not spent the night without giving evidence of his manly prowess elsewhere - the scene lasted a long time to the great satisfaction of all concerned. Nobody was shy; nobody needed to be asked and everything went off swimmingly: mother, daughter, lady's maid, knight, count and the little prince all came simultaneously.

  That was the finale of our lovely fuck in concert. When it was over, we could not help smiling at one another and the Knight did not have to ask us to embrace with the greatest tenderness. We swore peace and secrecy and it was agreed that reconciliation with my mother should be celebrated with a luncheon in the country, proposed by the Knight, who undertook to make all the necessary preparations for it that very day. My mother, it should be said, was quite free as far as the convent was concerned because of her court action and was able to go where and when she pleased and take us with her. We were to meet at the pleasure gardens at the end of a royal promenade not far from the town. We were promised that the carriage would be at our door on the stroke of noon.