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  She began to writhe as if in a paroxysm. It must be now, Cesare was able to think as he drummed into her, pulling back and then thrusting in his whole length in a slow, grinding crush.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him desperately. Her eyes seemed to be speaking to him, loving him, wanting him, abandoning herself to him. Her mouth opened and her tongue came out - a long, point-tipped, moist and perfectly smooth tongue. Cesare lowered his lips to hers and bit the tongue gently. He ground in with slow, strong strokes. He could feel his penis swelling in a hot tingling expansion. He couldn't keep his mouth on hers and drew up, his hands under her buttocks, pulling them up off the divan, against his loins.

  She wriggled furiously, her shoulders quivered, and her breasts under his eyes. She groaned and looked at his eyes in a last gleam of passion and then her mouth opened in a great circle, her head dropped back, her thighs clasped him and she emitted a loud, aching gasp and another and another, dwindling away into body-racking sighs.

  Still holding her buttocks in his hands, fired by the sight of her fulfilment, Cesare, himself, trembled on the brink of release. His penis was chafing against the flesh of her passage and his loins were screwed up in a turmoil of pre-explosion. Her beautiful body, heaving with passionate sighs, was in his hands. He looked down and saw her thighs hanging over his hands as he held her bottom, and saw his prick, inflamed and wet, disappearing into her red, loose lips. Her breasts swayed and heaved below him and that narrow waist was heaving too, above the hips that he held up slightly off the bed.

  He thrust savagely in and felt his knob growing and growing as if it would burst into a thousand pieces. He ground slowly, slowly, extracting every iota of sensation from the long, slow stroke. His breath was rising up from his chest, rising up through his throat at the same time that his knob was expanding in unbearable torture. He felt the quick fire dart in his loins and come racing through. His mouth opened wide as the breath finally, suddenly, reached it. He shattered his sperm up, up into her belly as the breath broke from his throat, twisting his mouth out into an agonized explosion. He felt the pressure of her thighs renewed, fleetingly, heard a faint gasp echoing a recognition of his orgasm.

  For several seconds he pumped into her, seeming to loose all the juices of his pent up body into that lovely, waiting receptacle. Then, slowly he collapsed, on her warm, cushioning flesh and felt her arms encircle him gently and her lips, light and tender on his cheek.

  Later, nude still, she preceded him as they walked to the private chamber Cesare had been allotted off the banquet hall. Watching her buttocks swaying and rounding under the slim, taut waist, Cesare wondered if the Chief Councillor meant it when he said it would be worth getting a stiletto in one's ribs if one could be sure of fulfilment first. Looking at her thighs, slenderly moving under the rounded voluptuousness of the buttocks, he felt pretty sure he meant it.

  The Joys of Lolotte

  Translated from the French by Frank Pomeranz

  The evening, though seeming like eternity, passed pleasantly enough. At supper, which was served in our rooms, I ate with gusto. My mother said she had to write a good many letters that evening. I was terrified lest she stayed up part of the night, which sometimes happened, but Félicité, with no less foresight, had seen to that. She found a way of telling me about it and laying at rest a worry that she evidently shared with me.

  'Don't worry,' she said. 'I have added a reasonable dose of Madame's sleeping draught to her wine. I assure you she will quickly drop off over her writing paper and feel the need to go to bed.'

  Her stratagem worked as it was meant to. My mother had been at work for scarcely half an hour when, yawning, abstracted and overcome with sleep, she rang for Félicité to help her undress.

  'Really,' she said to her lady's maid. 'I feel quite tipsy. It can't be what I drank at supper. It must be an excess of happiness - a sentiment that my heart has become unaccustomed to lately.'

  'Happiness no doubt has something to do with it,' the cunning Félicité replied. 'But, without noticing, Madam also drank rather more than usual tonight.'

  'I don't believe so.'

  'I was surprised myself but Madam lightly drank off a second carafe of wine.' (This was quite untrue.)

  'Is that really so?'

  'I assure you, madam. Anyway, have a good rest.'

  'I am so sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open; good night, Félicité.'

  'Good night, Madam.' She drew the curtains. 'I wish you happy dreams. We, too - believe me - are going to have a good night after the happy events of the day.'

  'I hope so, my children.'

  'Good night, Mother.'

  'Good night, Madam.'

  We still had an hour to ourselves. Lord, how slowly the time passed. I was terribly impatient. Leaping from my seat to the window every few moments like a squirrel, I got even more tired and restless; by turns, I questioned Félicité, called her names and even hit her because she said, though with a laugh, that perhaps instead of expecting a man, we should prepare ourselves to discover that the idea of an assignation was the treacherous trick of some wicked hussy trying to compromise us with my mother and the Mother Superior.

  At heart, however, Félicité, who was able to control herself better than I, was no less hopeful; what she said was merely to rein in my petulance a little and to give herself the mischievous pleasure of contradicting me.

  But, in the end, when I went to the window for perhaps the hundredth time, what joy! I caught a glimpse of something moving in the garden... the object came closer; I called Félicité over... First we saw a figure, then a ladder approaching our window... How my heart was beating!

  The ladder was put in position; the figure moved away and then returned. Good grief it was... it was... only a nun! All at once my blood ran cold and fury replaced hope and desire. It would not have needed much for me to push over the ladder and hurl it, together with the figure on it, into the garden.

  How unjust a person can be and how blameworthy if he acts rashly. How dreadful it would have been if I had been the cause of the charming creature that was coming to call on us breaking its neck.

  The habit was straightaway cast off by our gentleman visitor (for it turned out that he really was male): ardent caresses were at once bestowed impartially on the mistress and servant.

  'You understand, of course, my darlings, that midnight rendezvous in a nunnery are not made for sentimental romances. More than once I have overheard your intimate conversations and listened to your discussions. I know full well what you think and what you desire and I shall supply what you need.'

  We had already had our bodices and skirts removed, because his hands had not lagged behind his speech in tarrying negotiations forward. What an expert undresser of girls he was, to be sure!

  'Let's get to work quickly and jointly. Let's shut the windows, draw the curtains and shade the lights. Let's not stand on ceremony and let us drop all inhibitions.'

  At this point my shift was removed; I was immediately seized below my buttocks and lifted up so that my downed honey-pot could be freely kissed. I was released; now it was Félicité's turn and her magnificent breasts were gratified by the most ardent caresses. My own, alas, had not been treated like that - there was still too little of them. Now he returned to me. I was carried to the bed. At the same moment, Félicité's shift dropped to her feet. The hussy knew full well to what extent the advantageous display of her many charms would redound to her credit. The young man's reaction was striking - like that of Pygmalion prostrating himself at the feet of his Galathea taking her first breath. Félicité was hugged, covered with kisses all over - literally all over - and laid on the bed beside me. At almost the same moment, the young man was as stark naked as we were ourselves. But for the absence of wings, he was an angel or rather as one would imagine Apollo or Belvedere but with a prick! Heavens, what a prick! It was the first I had ever seen in the flesh and, alas, I have never had the good fortune to see another like it.

 
; Imagine the embarrassment of a young worshipper, burning with desire, about to offer up his sacrifice, who has at his mercy on the altar two victims, one of whom is only a servant but mature, ravishing and perfectly made for enjoyment, whereas the other is her mistress but a mere sketch of a future masterpiece, having little to set against the charms of her attractive rival apart from the fantastic advantage of her virginity. While it is known that the latter is a powerful bait for many gallants, there are a great many others whom it does not interest in the slightest: the true man of pleasure attaches little value to the specious pleasures of self-esteem. So I had no reason to think that if the choice between us had been perfectly free the scales would have come down in my favour.

  Félicité, it must be said, did nothing to persuade him that she should be awarded the apple, because I seemed to desire it so much, too much perhaps. The role of my inferior, my domestic servant, was to discourage both the young man and myself from follies which - while we were together - she could tolerate but which could still be avoided as long as a shred of principle could still set limits to my fiery desires. The role of the Adonis was to avoid humiliating either of us; mine ought to have been not to demand so transparently, by my looks and attitude, that the flame that was progressively consuming me should at last be extinguished.

  I wanted it so much; yet, I did not. I wanted to brave whatever might be coming to me; yet, I was afraid. The brat who had set her mind on being penetrated and had imagined that in her furious desire she would be capable of seizing the first hobbledehoy who came her way by the trousers - this foolish creature, I say, became increasingly reluctant as luck appeared to favour her more and more.

  Let us cut a long story short. Félicité, lightly passed over, was neglected in my favour. The angel of pleasure, covering me with his heavenly body, said to me,

  'Us two first, my little darling. For the first time, I can't promise you much joy. But I hope soon and often to reward you for the pleasure you will give me. Kiss me.'

  What transports and what fire I put into that kiss, which was my only response!

  'All the same, ask yourself,' he said after touching my little crack, 'will your miniature charms be able to sustain the rough assault of this, which is out of all proportion to them?'

  I had seized it and my hand was scarcely able to encompass it: it was long in proportion, hard and hot.

  'Shall we put it in?'

  'Oh yes, please do,' I replied, throwing all caution to the winds. 'Do your best, sir, come what may.'

  'She wants it,' he said smiling at Félicité.

  'You're going to kill her,' she replied. 'Hold on a minute; I'll preside over this dangerous operation; let me do it, I'll direct it myself. Good heavens, what an enormous thing! No, Mademoiselle, with your sixteen years and your eye of a needle you'll never accommodate this enormous fellow.'

  'Just go on, my dear, do your best.'

  After that, the happy young man gave her free rein to do what she wanted. He was preoccupied with my kisses which stoked his fires and submitted to the attentions of the maid who, after applying the whole of a pot of cold cream to our playthings, finally placed the enormous button against the narrow button-hole. But in vain did she hold it open, in vain did she strangle the glans of the enormous prick in its hood to make it more pointed; she could not make it penetrate even a fraction of an inch.

  He pushed; I lunged against him - but it was all to no avail. Our conjunction proved impossible.

  But still, you cannot with impunity for long have your lips glued to those of a charming girl, with your prick in the hands of another beauty and rubbing against a maidenhead. As a result of these delicious experiences, the electric current of pleasure could not fail to affect the young man and a torrent of hot spunk gushed forth. Félicité believed that a joint effort, aided by the life-giving fluid, would at last break down the barrier.

  'Push, my children. It must go in - now or never.'

  We pushed hard enough to do ourselves a grievous injury. All in vain. The precious ejaculation occurred entirely outside me and I was not even broached.

  'Fate is cruel,' my young man said calmly as he changed position, 'but just regard it as a postponed fixture. I know precisely, my little darling, what you need; tomorrow - without fail - there are going to be two of us and you shall have what you need. And that contumacious maidenhead will give way, I promise.'

  He was still speaking to me when he was already mounted on Félicité and attacking her most sensitive spot. She was surprised - or pretending to be - at this abrupt transition and wanted a little more ceremony - but he would have none of it.

  'What, in front of Mademoiselle?' the hypocritical hussy said when it was almost too late, 'at least wait till I snuff out the candles; she must not watch this infamy.'

  'God damme, if this were a public square, at noon, in front of the queen, I wouldn't let go of any part of you.'

  'Quite right,' I interrupted, putting on a brave face in spite of my misfortune, though I was still a little out of countenance on account of the game with me having been abandoned so quickly.

  To console myself a little at least, I feasted my eyes on the majestic entry of this beautiful prick into the maid's receptive and docile sheath. How could I possibly have borne anything of such dimensions! Even she made a bit of a face but every heave of her hips and haunches made another good inch of the formidable cylinder disappear and before long I saw both brave champions engaged, so to speak, skin to skin.

  Tell me frankly what you think, true lovers and knowledgeable connoisseurs of all things voluptuous.

  Is there anything on earth so fine, so admirable and so exciting as the sight of two perfect bodies being united by the introduction of a prick, bursting with health, into a cunt palpitating with lust? This ivory, this lily, these roses, this ebony, or this gold, all moving, colliding, struggling... what a spectacle for the gods! They have made the eyes of the vulgar multitude chary of looking on while such things go on in order that they might enjoy them in privacy. But the elite of us mortals is made to share the sublime pleasure of those directly taking part. Everyone who fucks is a base ingrate if he does not in his heart have the ardent desire to let others watch what he himself does with such delight.

  What you have missed, gentle reader, is not seeing, like me, the superb Félicité moaning with pleasure and rocking with her gentle movements the demi-god tumbling about on top of her! Oh, how inadequate this description is compared with the most beautiful scene of fucking that the human mind can conceive!

  Not only did I not want to miss the most insignificant detail that my avid eyes could see; I also had to grope above and below - in all directions. I admired the almost chilly spheres in the element of fire surrounding them, contained in their elastic, wrinkled bag, which at one moment rubbed against the lower corner of the cunt and the next, separated from it by the entire length of the prick, the ridge of which almost appeared outside, as if to impress me with the adroitness with which it immediately re-sheathed itself up to the very balls. What grace, what harmony there was in the vigorous work of these two expert creatures!

  By accident, I created for myself a small part in this voluptuous scene and my success in it made me quite proud. My fingers, lightly walking over the buttocks, thighs and genitalia of this Adonis appeared to give him great pleasure; nor was I niggardly in my stimulating attentions when I realized how much he enjoyed them.

  'Oh, yes! Like that,' he said. 'Go on tickling, my little darling; tickle them well; one day they will amply repay you for what you are doing now.'

  By degrees, Félicité warmed to her task. 'I am going to come but if you come at the same time, I'll be lost: we are more likely to make two babies than one. Can you slow down a bit?'

  'I'll see to everything, don't worry.'

  'Your word of honour?'

  'You have it.'

  'All right, then.'

  At this point her movements became awesomely agitated and now she did everything
herself.

  'Give me your lips, my lover. Kiss me, my angel! Oh, my God! What a glorious fuck!'

  This sacred word was followed by silence, enforced by the fury of the kiss by which she held her lover's entire mouth engulfed in hers. She gathered him to herself by the arms and legs and held him close, trembling. This ecstatic state lasted a good two minutes; it continued even when all her limbs weakened and the prisoner at last regained his freedom. He used it at once to accomplish his own task. A moment of the same ardour that had been displayed by Félicité now brought him to his crisis. She, immobile, her arms spread out, her head turned on one shoulder and as if in a faint, took no notice of anything. All the same, true to his word, the happy young man did not fail to withdraw at the decisive moment. The thick fleece of the maid was liberally sprinkled but I observed that the unction, now more limpid, flowed less freely than earlier on with me. The beautiful young man's kept promise was rewarded with the tenderest of caresses. Now we washed; all three of us needed to badly. Félicité tidied up the bed a little and we warmed ourselves up in it, putting the dear creature who had just worked so well for our happiness in the middle.

  Who was he? We were dying to know. But our curiosity was not to be satisfied yet.

  Don't worry, my children,' he told us. 'One day I shall be able to tell you by what chance I became the spoilt child of this nunnery, in which - to be sure - I have many clients beside yourselves.'

  'Would you believe it?'

  'I cannot tell you more at the moment; but you should know that here, my dear children, you are more or less... in a brothel and that at this very moment there are six or seven males scattered about the sleeping quarters of this nunnery. There is apparently a god for fornicators and this god gives his special protection to a community so fervent in its worship of him; all the same, so much blatant scandal goes on here that one day - possibly quite soon - all this fucking may blow up in our faces.'

  I suddenly had an idea. If, as he said, there really were six or seven males scattered about the sleeping quarters at that moment, would it not be possible to look for one more suitably built for my requirements, who could deputize for our visitor... I wanted to convey this thought to Félicité at once, so I asked our lover to raise himself slightly to enable me to whisper this lubricious thought in her ear.