We had seven days before Camille would return, in those days I more than
fulfilled my word to the girl, bought dresses, a ring, brooch, umbrella,
parasol, in fact I don't know what I did not give, and must have paid
fifty pounds; we dined out, went to theatres, ate, drank, and fucked
like blazes.
French women when they have given themselves up to a man, do so with all
their heart and soul. One day as luncheon began to operate on her, she
nothing loth, she strong, healthy, and with passions roused, feeding
daily in a way she had been unaccustomed to, yielded freely to my
wishes. I placed her on the bed-side, threw up her chemise, kissed the
dark crisp hair of her motte; her thighs separated, her limbs went up,
and I saw the adorable vermillion gap, the ragged tear my penis had
made. It was a small cunt for so fine a woman. What enticed, and incited
me I don't know, I never shall know why dozens of women I have had I
never have done it to, but I was taken with the feeling now. I looked,
fingered, titillated, kissed it, out went my tongue; it played lightly
over the clitoris, then baudy frenzy seized me, and I licked and sucked
her cunt. She wriggled, scarce knowing what I was about, when pushing my
head away she cried out, "oh! mon Dieu, ah! quelle bete! aho!"
I had never done it willingly but to Martha, now the letch seized me
furiously, every day afterwards I had my mouth to her, and when I was so
fucked out, that I could come no more, would lay and lick her till she
was worn out too with spending.
We had indeed no other amusement than fucking, talking about it, eating,
drinking, and sleeping, which was to us all the charm of a honey-moon.
I think I see her now, making my cock stiff under my direction, her
amusement at pulling the prepuce up and down was great, I almost feel
her bum now as she used to sit on my knee, looking at the pictures in
the baudy book; we used to talk it over until we went to bed, and
eased our passions, what fun when we did not mind washing each other's
privates, as we did.
We used to lay on the bed with my head between her thighs, licking her
quim, she playing with my prick, but I never put my pego into her mouth,
nor did she ever do more than kiss it.
On the day but one before Camille returned, we went to bed, had a fuck,
then a second, her cunt felt funny, and I found her courses had come on,
or as she called them, her periods. There was an end of my fun, nor was
I sorry. Not having left her day or night, nor been to my lodgings, nor
to my mother's, I was fucked out, and so was she,--so that her reds came
on most opportunely.
Next day we were duller, there was nothing in her to make her a
companion when not in amorous amusements. She became tiresome, and
annoyed me by putting on her things one after the other, all day long,
and asking me, how she looked in them, if she did not look better than
Madame. Then how to tell her mistress she had got the things? what to
do, if her mistress refused to let her wear them? how was I to see her
again? At length we resolved to tell rousing lies about everything,--my
behaviour was in fact most absurd.
The following day, a letter came to say Camille would be home that
night. I took away my trunk and clothes, went to my virtuous lodgings;
it was a relief to be away from cunt for twenty-four hours, and I could
not bear a woman with her courses on.
*********
Please support me on my ko-fi account by donating at,
https://ko-fi.com/aayume
I really appreciate your donations.
Thank You.
Or, You can buy the whole book at,
https://ko-fi.com/aayume/shop