Guy de Maupassant - The Colonel's Nieces

“She will never know about it. And, I am sure, neither will the Count, for we both have good reason to maintain absolute discretion.”

“That we do,” Julia admitted sadly. “What a strange coincidence. Have you been here long?”

“Yes, we stopped her to rest. But you, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I came to see a friend of mine. Florentine and your aunt are in St. Gildas. I am on my way back to Paris, and when Florentine returns from her vacation, we intend to go to Menton. But my dearest, talking here is not a prudent thing to do. If your Count comes back and finds me so… ah… lightly dressed, he might forget that I am your brother-in-law. He might simply not believe that I mistook his quarters for mine. I'll leave immediately.”

George dressed hastily, placed a fraternal kiss upon Julia's bewildered face and hurried back to his own room.

Just in time, too. Julia had hardly had the time to remove the tell-tale traces from her inner thighs when Gaston entered the room. To hide her guilt, Julia immediately made a scene about the lateness of the hour. They quarreled. They made up. The latter took considerably longer. Gaston pounced upon her like a wild bull. All night he had been drinking and telling strong tales with his friends. He had no idea why Julia was so mad, but, he did not care because he was very aroused and the bad mood of his wife titillated him even more. Julia's anger dissipated quickly under his rough caresses. It was just what she needed to relieve her anxiety. Moreover, the experience with George had given her a new idea. It had not been the position that was so disgusting to her, but George's miserably insufficient tool.

She wound her legs around the big shaft of her lover and she found herself sitting on the crest of his great stiff shaft which was directly under the lips of her sheath. It slowly entered. At last she was fully penetrated by his organ which seemed to fill her completely, giving her the greatest pleasure. She slowly relaxed her legs and settled down with all her weight upon Gaston's belly. The shaft of his penis entered up to the hilt. Gaston closed his eyes. He groaned with pleasure.

“She is marvelous,” he thought, “just what I needed. She must have known, the little darling, that I was too drunk to do all the work.”

They could look into the mirror which hung over the dresser opposite their bed. At least half of his penis was visible below her buttocks. Julia worked her loins and she could plainly see in the mirror that his tool was now deeper inside her belly. But there was so much of it that Julia was rapidly reaching the point of blissful consummation. At this moment, Gaston laid her upon her back on the bed without losing connection. He braced his feet against the footboard and gave an irresistible plunge. Julia's whole body seemed only a sheath, quivering with lascivious gratification. She bore, without flinching, four or five more of his terrific plunges and then came the overwhelming thrill. In the midst of it she could feel the gushing sperm spurt like a fountain in her belly.

They subsided simultaneously with a deep sigh. Twice before the night was over. Julia was spurred by the tremendous desire to court the brunt of a renewed assault. Then they fell asleep, their arms and legs intertwined.

The hotel room walls were thin, and it was impossible for George to sleep. This obliged him to think. Soon he was completely sobered up and the next day, by first train, he went back to Paris and sent for Florentine which made her leave St. Gildas so quickly during that stormy day.

Never deny the power of destiny.

If fate had not brought George Vaudrez to St. Jean-de-Luz, if he and Gaston had not both been given the eye by a blonde hussy, if George had not entered the wrong room and the Count had not decided to entertain his friends and tie one on, George might not have hastened his wife's departure.

And then… Gordon would not have accompanied her, he might not have lost his virginity and the eldest branch of the Vaudrez would, now have been extinct for lack of descendants. Truly mysterious are the ways of the Lord.

Travel broadens the mind and is in general — a delicious pastime, if one can afford it. But no matter how enthusiastically one has greeted the marvels spread throughout the four corners of the world, only when Paris appears on the horizon again does that feeling of peace descend upon the soul.

Paris, city of laughter, city of love. The gathering place of genius and fool, the only place in the whole wide world where you can be sure, no matter what your tastes, to find a group of people just like you.

The little home on the Rue de Courcelles was beautifully decorated in honor of the return of its mistress. Dorothy had sent a telegram to Baptiste and all the servants had turned out to greet the Count and his loved one.

It was so elegant and cozy that even Gaston was wowed when he and Julia crossed the threshold of that pretty room where he and she had tasted the delights of their sweet ecstasy. He took her in his arms and held her passionately.

“You are mine, aren't you, Gaston,” said Julia pleadingly. “Tell me, my lover, let me hear it from your lips. It sounds so sweet to be reassured that you love me now and forever.”

“Until my dying breath, my dearest.”

And his lips, searching for love and passion, sealed his promise to Julia in a most convincing manner.

Alas, the best laid plans often go awry. People may make them, but the decisions are more often than not made by fate.

The Parisian life had taken hold of the Saski-Saniska household, and Gaston began to spend more and more time with his friends, and less and less with Julia. Julia barely noticed that his visits to their little love nest were few and far between. Her dearest friend, the Baroness de Sambreval, was seriously ill, and Julia spent much of her time taking care of the old lady. Little by little the intimate ties between herself and her lover were loosening.

The young woman would come home so worn out and tired that she really did not mind being alone in bed. As a matter of fact, she welcomed the temporary absence of Gaston's amorous demands.

Gaston still loved no one else but Julia. Not a single other woman had succeeded to take her place in his heart and soul, though many had tried. But a terrible rival was gaining ground ever so slowly, day by day. Gaston had an overriding passion for gambling. It had temporarily been relegated to second place as long as his passion for Julia was blazing hot. But circumstances beyond the control of either one had dimmed the glow. Gaston took Julia for granted, which is one of the gravest mistakes that can be made in any love affair, whether the ties are made in Heaven or not. Julia, who loved the Baroness almost as much as she did her aunt, did not notice the imperceptible changes. Gaston lost enormous sums of money without telling Julia. Then, worried, wishing to recoup his losses, he went farther, losing even more. This is the way of the world. Once the loser is down, he is being stepped upon. Soon, Gaston found himself deeply in debt, his fast friends leaving him one by one.

At the same time, Julia lost her friend. The old Baroness died in her arms, imploring the girl to take care of her poor friend. Don Jose had never left her side and, overcome with grief, the old man was crying on his knees, next to the bed, his head buried in the covers.

Poor Don Jose! The death of his former mistress, who had become his lifetime friend, was a rude blow for him. He might not have been able to survive it, had it not been for the tender loving care Julia bestowed upon him.

The Baroness' heirs ordered the sale of the beautiful mansion on the Boulevard Saint Michel, but the General could not stand the idea of seeing all the little objects and furniture that meant as much to him as it had to the Baroness scattered to the four corners of the earth.