Eroticon 2 Page 5

  When young, she had been very pretty, and had been much courted. She had loved admiration, and had flirted above a bit.

  Her short married life with the late earl had been a long round of love and lust, and frank sexual enjoyment, but his sudden death had brought about an equally sudden revulsion of feeling.

  Lady Lavinia had turned suddenly very good, mid-Victorian good. She had mourned her husband, and put a great deal of mournfulness into other people's lives by doing so - as have other illustrious widows.

  Now there came back a rush of something - it must have been Georgian - and she let down the drawbridge.

  At the end of the fifteenth page of Nemesis Hunt's pleasant confessions, she decided to leave on the morrow, but return.

  Nemesis was put under the pillow, and in that very ultra-modern house there slept what may be described as a memory of Cremorne.

  Charlie Osmond went to bed with mixed feelings. He had had a very good time: he had a prospect of future life in view, which he rather welcomed - but, he wanted to be with Maudie - not to be immoral, but to talk. It flatly bored him to go to bed.

  Outside, the Thames valley looked very peaceful. The dogs, the chickens, everything slept, except Charlie, and Elsie and May, who, after seeing to the little wants of Lady Lavinia and Maudie, bided their time for an invasion into Charlie's room.

  That worthy had his suspicions of impending events. He did not lock the door, but sat by the window in his pyjamas, and gazed peacefully out over the moonlit garden and river.

  It was altogether rather too nice, too idyllic, and - well - the door opened, and Elsie came in without knocking.

  She was fully dressed, and carried a tray with hot water and glasses.

  Charlie laughed.

  'I somehow expected you,' he said; 'but do you know it's very wrong. You don't know what I am, whether I'm married or not, or what trouble this might get me into.'

  Elsie laughed.

  'Well, I've done it,' she said. 'I meant to from the first moment I saw you. Give me a cigarette and a drink, and let me come and sit in the window, and you won't be bored for the next half hour, I can promise you.'

  Elsie curled up on the corner of the window-seat, the moon full on her delicate little features, lit the proffered Albany cigarette, sipped a little of the whisky and Rosbach, and grinned, frankly grinned.

  'I suppose you think it frightful cheek,' she suggested.

  'Well, I can't say I don't like your cheek,' and he kissed it.

  Elsie kissed him back on the lips, and took off her bodice. She had very pretty arms, and a gold bangle with a purple enamel medallion, worn just above the left elbow, did not make them less attractive.

  She had a little more of the Three Star Bushmills, stood up and slid her skirt off: then her chemise - she wore no petticoats - and to cut a long story short, her next sitting-place was on Charlie's knee, and the next kiss had nothing to do with cheeks.

  Charlie lifted her on to the bed. Even then, though she was exasperatingly pretty, he could not help thinking of Maudie.

  She curled over him, slowly, deliberately and maliciously taking both his hands in hers, and rubbing her soft cheeks against his.

  There must be something in telepathy, for at the moment, the precise moment that Charlie reconciled himself to a connection which he knew would be nice, but which he really did not want, save for the exquisite pleasure in thinking that Elsie's arms were Maudie's, that latter lady saw in a blue mist of ecstasy the image of a very loving Charlie - poor Tubby being merely the engine-driver who drove the imagination of her recklessly lustful brain.

  Charlie let himself frankly go. There was no light in the room at all bar the shafts of the moon, filtering through the swaying trees. The silhouetted skyline and the delightfully placid atmosphere made Charlie lazy.

  He had some recollection of little tickling fingers swiftly undoing the strings of his pyjamas, little tickling fingers also playing with an already erect member, naked arms twisted round his neck, firm, plump legs twisted round his thighs, and - well - he was in - well in - and those soft cheeks were most lustfully pressed to his.

  Maudie had been very loving, but - all said and done - as he felt all his love juice being sucked out of him, this, Charlie couldn't help admitting, was better still.

  He came in a long rhapsody: the girl jerked the eiderdown over them, and snuggled up. He didn't know whether she meant to stay the night, or not, or what the morals of this peculiar house permitted, but it was very comfortable.

  He was just going to sleep when the door opened very quietly, and another girl came into the moonlight.

  Charlie gave up. He remembered where he was, and determined to die game. The 'other girl' apologised laughingly, and the original giggled in the sheets.

  'You don't mind May, do you?' she said.

  'No,' was Charlie's answer; 'but it's got to stop at May, you and. May. If I've got to go through the whole personnel of the establishment, I give up.'

  May did not answer - but just, just seemed to slide just as Elsie had done - out of her clothes, and into bed.

  Poor, but happy Charlie - he realized quite what a squeezed lemon must feel like - but he valiantly did his duty.

  May was more placid than Elsie, more tender, more caressing, perhaps, but Charlie's cock was just as stiff as he felt his balls right against the soft buttocks of his new love.

  It was a long fuck and a delightful one. Elsie, wicked little devil, gave every help in her power.

  She flung back the clothes, and there they lay, three naked bodies in the moonlight. There was no artificial light save the glow of Elsie's cigarette end.

  Elsie slipped the pillow down so that her little friend's bottom was just correctly raised, and, as Charlie knelt between May's legs, guided his penis dexterously in.

  May, of course, was shaved, in the fashion of everyone in Maudie's mansion, and Charlie began more and more to appreciate the added charm of the hairless cunt, as he thrust his fingers between their bodies and felt the soft, warm, smooth flesh.

  Elsie crept right on top of them, her bead between Charlie's legs, so that her tongue swept over and over his swelling balls. As his cock slipped in and out of May, her fingers played with it. May had a large cunt, and Elsie's little finger could slip in beside Charlie's cock.

  Her cunt was on his backbone, and on that she frigged herself - he felt the warm love moisture much about the same time as he spent himself in May.

  He didn't recollect the actual end, didn't recollect anything till a stream of daylight dazzled him into being, and he found himself alone - with a little note pinned on each side of his broad pillow.

  Each read the same: 'Thanks so much.'

  Only the handwriting and the signature were different. One 'Elsie' - the other 'May'.

  Pauline the Prima Donna

  Among the persons attending the rehearsal I noticed a stranger who immediately made a strong impression on me: a very handsome man, well dressed, with an intelligent face. When the tenor sang a false note, he leaped to the stage, took the score, and sang the passage with such passion and so much expression and taste that the whole cast was enraptured. I have never heard a voice his equal; it sent shivers of delight the length of my spine. Everyone applauded wildly and the tenor cried, 'After you, sir, it would be a profanation for me to continue!' And with that he ripped up the rest of his score.

  I asked Monsieur de R. who he was and if he was Hungarian.

  'You are asking me more than I can tell you,' he replied. 'His card carries the name Ferry. He could be Hungarian, English, Italian or Spanish, as well as French, German or Russian. He seems to speak all languages. I have not yet seen his papers, and the only thing I know is that he has just arrived from Vienna, that he is received at court there, that the English ambassador has recommended him to his, chargé d'affaires for something or other, that he has dined with the manager of the royal theatre, and that everyone is happy to have him at dinner. I think that he is on some sort of
diplomatic mission, and I know that he is living at the Hotel de la Reine d'Angleterre.'

  Ferry remained to the end of the rehearsal and we were introduced. He was a perfect and gallant gentleman, and I had to watch myself closely when speaking with him.

  I was always free in the evening when I had a long rehearsal in the afternoon or morning, and someone had recommended that I go often to the theatre in order to hear good Hungarian spoken. So that night I attended a performance accompanied by Madame de F. At the first intermission I had the pleasure of an unexpected visit from Ferry. He excused himself for coming to see me so quickly, but I begged him to stay. He paid me several compliments, saying he liked my voice very much, that I had good stage presence, that my costumes and makeup were excellent, etc., but he never spoke a word of love. He was simple and polite, never common and never importunate, and I resolved then and there to make a conquest of this man before the women of Budapest society got to him. I immediately brought all of my charm and coquetry into play, thinking to win him rapidly and, as he asked permission to pay me a visit soon, I thought that I had already won. I was soon to discover my error.

  We finally did speak of love, but in a very general way. However much his eyes were eloquent, his tongue remained mute, and if his words left me in no doubt of how much I pleased him, he never so much as hinted at asking the slightest favour. When he pressed my hands upon arriving or leaving, he did it almost nonchalantly, without attaching the least bit of significance to it.

  Finally, even so, I managed to steer the conversation to his past loves, and I asked him if he had made many conquests and if he had ever been seriously in love.

  'I take the beautiful where I find it,' he replied. 'I believe that it would be an injustice to bind myself to a single individual and I think, in theory, that marriage is the most tyrannical institution in society. How can a man of honour dare to offer that which does not depend solely on his good will? Generally speaking, I believe that one should never promise anything to anyone, and you will never find a soul that can say to you truthfully that I have once promised him something. I do not even promise to come to a dinner when I have been invited; I content myself simply with acknowledging the invitation. I never gamble; chance is too great a power for me to give it the opportunity to defeat me. And that is why I never promise a woman to remain faithful to her. She must take me as I am if she takes me at all. If she is willing to share my heart with others, she will find plenty of room. That is the reason that I have never yet made a declaration of love to a woman; I always wait until she tells me simply and frankly that I please her enough so that she can no longer refuse me anything.'

  'I imagine that you have already come across many such persons,' I said to him, 'but I cannot understand how you have been able to love them. It seems to me that a woman must be extremely imprudent to dare take the first steps in an affair, without waiting for the man to assume the initiative and make the overtures.'

  'And why, may I ask?' he replied. 'Does not a man prefer a woman that loves him enough to dare to break all the laws of conventionality to one that simply plays a role? Women who demand the man's initiative are only going to give in at last in any case. A man infinitely prefers a woman who knows how to sacrifice her vanity to a woman who only knows how to be a coquette. Bitterness often pushes a man to revenge himself on a woman who has made him languish a long time, and when she finally cedes to him what he wishes, he will be unfaithful to her and leave her.'

  'And those unfortunate young women that cede to the first attack of the man, do they also merit his vengeance?'

  'I have never revenged myself but on coquettes, and I would certainly not like to seduce a young, innocent girl. I have never done it either, although God knows I've had the opportunities. Each woman that I have had has offered herself to me without my asking anyone to sacrifice her virginity. Each of them was free to choose, and they said to themselves, 'Should I prefer him who pursues me and who does not please me, or him who pleases me and says nothing?' And each of their choices fell upon me. They managed to free themselves from the foolish scruples that their mothers, aunts and other frustrated spinsters had taught them from childhood, and they played their game in the open. None of them ever regretted it, for each knew the risks she was running; I explained to each one that, though she could possibly become a mother, even so I would never marry her, that I loved other women as well as her, and that she might never see me again. Tell me, was I honest or not?'

  I could not deny it, but I also told him I would never dare to make a declaration of love to a man.

  'Then,' he said, 'you will never love a man. For love in a woman entails sacrifice, and I will never show the slightest favour to a woman that will not give me the proof of such a love.'

  He had answered everything I had asked; I knew now that he would never make a declaration of love to me. However, it was evident that I pleased him. Why else did he visit me so often? He preferred to be in my company rather than go out for the evening. Nevertheless, I hesitated. I wanted to make the declaration he wished, but I wanted to do it in such a manner as to save myself as many blushes as possible, and I hoped to find a means during the carnival. I didn't know if he thought me experienced or not but, in any case, virginity obviously had no particular charm for him. What he would have liked would have been a virgin as corrupt as a Mesalina. Unfortunately, there are no such virgins.

  I did not know if I ought to confide in someone and have them act as an intermediary. I finally talked to Anna. She told me that although Ferry had already succumbed to another woman, she would do everything possible to win him for me. Above all, however, she wanted to know if he were going to participate in the orgy which was to take place in the brothel.

  Several days later she brought me the news that Ferry's mistress was the Countess O. Her chambermaid had overheard the initial conversation between the two. He had proposed exactly the same conditions to the countess, adding to the two that he had mentioned to me as being necessary - that the woman must make the overtures and that she must not count on his fidelity - a third: that each woman who gave herself to him must be completely nude. When a woman accorded everything to a man, he asserted, there was no reason for her not to reveal herself completely. The countess had accepted.

  I do not know if I could abandon myself in that fashion, even if I were to be in love. I am very liberal on that point; however, I cannot free myself from a certain prudishness which, innate or acquired, still dominates me. I have not yet learned whether this facet of my character is common to all women.

  In the meantime, Anna told me that, though Ferry would undoubtedly participate in the orgy, as he had been invited by three women, he had not promised definitely, for it was against his principles.

  The evening of the orgy approached rapidly. Anna, Rose and Nina helped me to finish my costume and try it on. It was made of a sky-blue silk, very heavy, with insertions of white gauze and brocaded gold flowers. My buttocks and, in front, my breasts and my belly, from the navel to three inches below my grotto of delight, were uncovered. On my feet I was wearing a pair of crimson velvet-tipped sandals. My collar was the ruffled lace one sees in portraits of Mary Stuart. The sleeves of my dress were elbow length and embroidered in gold. An Indian shawl, also in gold, was fastened about my waist and my hair was adorned with multicoloured marabou feathers.

  I did not want to wear my own jewels, as they would have given away my identity, so I left them, with a Jewess, who lent me some others. Besides this, I carried a staff with a gilded penis in erection on its tip, and wore a mask that covered my whole face except for the mouth and eyes. The colour of my hair was not unusual enough to betray me, although there were very few women who could claim locks as rich as mine. In all, my costume was in very good taste and quite original.

  The 23rd of January, Anna and I went to the house on the Goldstickergasse, I wearing a heavy cloak over my attire. When we arrived, Anna left me in the vestibule and I was received by Resi Luft. Alt
hough the hall was already well filled and the orchestra playing, the first men I saw upon entering were Monsieur de F. and the baron. They were almost entirely nude, wearing only a sort of skimpy bathing suit in clinging silk, and they wore no masks. My entry, meanwhile, had created a sensation. I heard the women murmuring, 'There is the one that is going to beat us tonight!... My, she is pretty!... That one is made of sugar, and how I would love to eat some of it!...' And the men were even more excited. The most beautiful parts of my body - my breasts, my arms, my calves, my buttocks, and my sex - were all bare or scarcely veiled. I waited not a second, taking the opportunity to seek out Ferry immediately. I finally found him dancing with a woman dressed in white tulle scattered over with roses and lilies, for she was supposed to be a nymph. Her body was fairly well proportioned, but not as beautiful as mine. Another woman had her arm around Ferry's hips. She represented Venus, and the only articles she wore were a belt of gold, a few diamonds and a crown in her raven black hair. She held the great, erect sceptre of her partner in her hand, and I must admit that I have never seen as large nor as handsome a lance as his. It was of an extraordinary size, as red as the sandals that were the only clothing of its master, and it shone as if it had been dipped in oil. The rest of Ferry's body was a gleaming white, tinted here and there with pinks and roses. Not even an Apollo, a Belvedere or an Antinous could have been as handsome or as well proportioned as he, and I trembled at the sight of him. My eyes were so busy devouring him that I stopped involuntarily before the tableau of which he was the centre. His Venus had a very pretty body, very white, but her breasts were slightly pendulous, and her violet-lipped grotto was too open, too ravaged by love.

  Suddenly Ferry's eyes found and rested on mine. He smiled very slightly and said, 'Very good. That is much the best method by which to take the initiative.' He then broke away from his women and came towards me, bent his head down to mine, and whispered my name in my ear. I blushed scarlet beneath my mask.