Guy de Maupassant - The Colonel's Nieces

“As I said, my darling, with you and for you I'll do anything.”

“That sounds dangerously like a proposal.”

“And what of it. I want to spread the whole world before your feet. My whole world! See here… the bedroom, the kitchen, the living room, my workroom, the dining room, and a splendid little garden. Dearest lady, I want you to consider it your home.”

They had breakfast. Jonathan served, but he appeared only when Michael rang for him. Michael was overjoyed to discover that this fascinating woman understood him immediately, regardless of the subject. He seriously thought about making her his life's companion. This was the first time he had found a beautiful woman who understood the meanderings of his artistic mind.

Jonathan served coffee and cigarettes, not in the least surprised that Michael asked him to put it on a little end table next to the couch.

“Thanks, old man,” Michael said when Jonathan announced that he would be on his way to the tailor, “and don't forget to tell my model — you know, the little brunette-that she does not have to come in today.”

Though nothing-in the world was more natural than that an artist would have a model, Julia could not help but feel a little pang of jealousy. A cloud crossed her lovely face.

“What's wrong, my little Madcap?” he asked.

“Why do you all of a sudden look so stern and reserved?”

Without thinking about the implications of her question, Julia asked, “What model?”

As Michael was too much of a man of the world not to understand what was in Julia's mind, he was also smart enough not to show it.

“Oh,” her,” he said. “She is a little girl of about fourteen years I would guess. I saw her yesterday walking around in Montmartre and asked her to come in and pose for some sketches. I am planning to do a painting of a little gypsy beggar, and I think that she is just about perfect for it. If you want, I'll show you some of the preliminaries I did of her from memory.”

Julia had regained her confidence again and Michael, noticing this, put his arms around her shoulder and pulled her toward him. A warm feeling flowed through Julia. She had not known this since that day Count Saski had left her to marry the choice of his Aunt Athena. It seemed ages ago now. She relaxed against Michael's strong shoulder with a contented sigh.

“Madcap… you are so beautiful,” the young man whispered.

Madcap did not answer, but Michael's hand upon her heart could feel it pound strongly.

“You know, darling, that the sight of beauty is headier than the best wine to an artist. Can't you feel how my entire heart cries out for you? Can you understand that this moment will decide whether my life is going to be happy or unhappy? I beg of you, be a woman, a real woman, and don't play with me. Please, don't let convention force you to hide your true feelings. Tell me, do you love me as much as I love you?”

Julia did not answer. Her head nestled more comfortably against his shoulders. She looked up at him, and their lips met in a passionate kiss. When they broke loose to take a deep breath, they both knew that they were in love with each other. Past and present disappeared. Time stood still, and they were both drunk with heavy passion. Michael stammered “I love you… please, be mine… always,” and his hands fumbled around with her clothing. He began to get impatient and finally ripped the buttons of the pearl-gray travel costume.

A cloud of delicious perfume came toward him. It was a mixture of pure woman smell and costly essence. It fired his passions to greater action and he simply ripped off the remaining clothes. He caressed her white shoulders with passionate kisses.-It was not the brutality of rape, but the tender caress of a connoisseur.

During this wild embrace his hands worked quickly unbuttoning Julia's bodice, stripping her stockings, her corset, and finally the last part of her clothing fell to the floor and she lay naked in his arms.

She had made one last defensive gesture; one could not call it a struggle, and he knew that it was the last vestige of convention which still had a strong hold on her. But he also knew that he was winning. She was sighing happily under his expert caresses. He became bolder. He tickled the thighs of the beautiful young woman with his blond beard.

Julia was stretched halfway across the couch now, and only the goose pimples on her tender skin were silent witnesses to the intensity with which she received Michael's love. The artist pushed her softly back upon the pillows, threw her legs around his neck and opened his trousers which suddenly had become quite uncomfortable because of the enormous bulge.

The firm, round thighs were now directly in front of him, their apex crowned by her lovely Venus mound covered with radiant black curls. It drove him out of his mind. His lips eagerly sought the costly treasure, but Julia had had enough foreplay-she wanted the real thing. There are people who are that lucky! Once they meet the right person, elaborate necking and petting is not necessary. They keep that as a dessert rather than using their energy for the hors d'oeuvre. Both Michael and Julia belonged to these elect people; their ecstasies lasted for hours and hours.

They did not dream about separating their bodies after they had been shaken by the paroxysms of their lovemaking. Instead, they kept arms and legs intertwined, their lips warmly together, whispering endearing words to one another, especially, “I love you.”

And then, after only a few minutes, they would go at it again with as much enthusiasm as if they had been love-starved for weeks.

The hours had flown by, and it was almost four o'clock in the afternoon. Julia de Corriero and Michael Lompret were still closely pressed together. Michael was slowly rubbing Julia's backside and rump, and the effects was magical. She pressed herself closer against him and her breathing quickened. He kept it up for quite some time and finally she was slowly spasming again.

“And now, my darling, pull up your legs, brace yourself, and lift up a little bit…”

Michael had been fully in command all day, though there was really no need for him to tell her what to do. She had lifted herself so high that he had to watch out not to lose his equilibrium.

“Ooh… I can't… any longer.”

“Am I… tormenting you, dearest Madcap?”

“You must… be… kidding! Oooooh… aah!”

Her passion was burning wildly again.

“I… can't… can't… stand… it….”

Her breathing was slow and heavy; she kept hovering on the verge. “Oooooooh! Now!” It wouldn't come.

Michael doubled his thrusts and soon his rod overflowed. She started to quiver under him, closed her eyes and her little pleasure fountain started to bubble. It filled to the brim and flowed over. They both fell in a voluptuous swoon and remained, bone tired, belly to belly.

Michael looked down upon her passionate cunt. The black curls were covered with light foam, the rose-colored lips peeked through and smiled at him. Julia pulled him back on top of her, kissing him passionately. Finally after all those many, many hours, they fell asleep, holding each other in a firm embrace.

But all good things have to come to an end, and this time it came in the form of old Jonathan. He had come back from his mission, and, knocking at the door of the studio, he had received no answer. He bent down to peek through the keyhole, murmuring, “Dammit, it must be great to be young and beautiful like those two there. Oh, well, I have had my time. Too bad it was so long ago.”

He shuffled to the kitchen to fix tea and food, knowing what Michael would want around five o'clock.

And that's what happened. At precisely that time the couple awakened by the ringing of the doorbell.