Guy de Maupassant - The Colonel's Nieces

“I wonder what she could have told my wife? Oh, well, I'll just have to wait and see. I honestly don't know whether it is the wine or the potion, but I can feel myself getting hornier by the minute.”

The women imbibed a rather large quantity of champagne, but George steadfastly refused to take a single drop, and his aunt thought, “I won't say anything yet, but it seems to me that he is preparing himself for the decisive battle.”

Since it had been decided that the guests would spend several days at Charmettes", Aunt Briquart decided that she could properly pretend to be tired and went up to her room, asking Julia to come up and read to her. George was infinitely grateful for this gesture and felt sorry that he had called her an old bitch.

“Darling,” he said to his wife, “would you like to follow your aunt's example and go up to our room? I am rather tired myself.”

“Gladly, dearest.”

“Fine, you go on up and I will join you as soon as you have sent the maid away.”

George went up to his room, took off his clothes and lowered himself in the bathtub with ice cold water which his valet had prepared for him. He fiddled around with his member, which was destined for combat that night. After having carefully dried himself, he sprinkled his arms, legs and back with cologne, the smell of which brought some preliminary reactions. This done, he put on his robe, drank a glass of vanilla tea and courageously ran toward his wife's room.

Florentine was seated in the great bed, looking deliciously pretty in perfumed lace which flowed around her lithe body. The cleavage showed her well-rounded breasts with the big, promising rosy buds. She smiled nervously, knowing that this second wedding night was going to be the deciding one.

This time George carefully avoided last night's mistake. He did not diddle around, avoiding the mistakes of prolonged foreplay. He took a large jar of cold cream from his wife's dressing table and making ample use of it, he began to rub his wife's belly. He could wait no longer. With agile fingers he massaged his wife to the point of climax, mounted her and pointing the dull red head of his weapon to the pouting slit, drove forward at one bound and with a victorious yell he attempted to bury himself up to the hilt into his wife's treasure trove. He called out, “Fear not, my dear… this little price of a minute's suffering will bring you pleasures forever… and, for God's sake, help me! It will make you suffer less.”

If Florentine had not had the little talk with her aunt that afternoon she would have undoubtedly defended herself. Now, however, she was annoyed at still being a virgin, especially since the old woman had made fun of her. She obeyed him by rushing her belly toward his incoming spear, and the resulting strong blow had the desired effect. She gave a violent start as she felt the entrance of George's swollen member. George, firmly embedded in the warm-body of his wife, covered her face and breast with kisses. His cry of triumph mingled with Florentine's moaning. She felt herself pierced through and wondered whether she had been pinned to the mattress forever. George commenced with several quick stabs of furious pleasure, and soon Florentine was engulfed in the same feelings. The pain had eased and made room for a warm, enjoyable feeling. Suddenly, with a scream of agonized enjoyment, he discharged and shot into his wife a plentiful torrent of hot fluid. The warm liquid inundated her. She underwent a spasm of hitherto unknown intensity. Her whole being shivered and she lost consciousness of what had happened, only to awaken several moments later under George's grateful kisses.

Time went by, and the two sisters, though separated by distance and by the different societies in which they moved, lived their lives happily. Both were very content with their husbands, though the one was virile and not very legal, and the other was very legal and not so virile any longer.

The influence of married life began to take its inevitable toll upon George Vaudrez. He continued, to adore his wife, but his cheeks were sunken and hollow, his once sparkling eyes had turned dull and reddish, and the pouches under them showed dark rings. His hands trembled continually and his gait had become slow and deliberate.

“God almighty, George!” his friend Albert in Paris exclaimed every time George showed up to pick up his elixir. “You are not supposed to use these drops every night! I had only intended them for your bridal night. If you keep this up, I cannot be responsible for the consequences.”

“What can I do?” answered George with trembling voice. “My wife, my charming wife, who seems so calm and cool by day, turns into a veritable monster of passionate lust by night. I would love to resist; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak!”

“You are not kidding. It is very weak, indeed. If you don't take a six-week vacation, you are a dead man!”

George knew that this was true. But how could he leave on a vacation and not take his dear Florentine with him? If he did, farewell to sorely needed rest! He decided to stay home and not to make his condition worse with all the troubles that surround a prolonged vacation trip.

Florentine had nothing to complain about as far as her own intimate pleasures were concerned. As a matter of fact, if they had only talked about George's problem for a few minutes, the poor man could have avoided all the pain and trouble from which he was suffering. But so great was the taboo of openly discussing the intimacies between man and wife, that death was staring him in the face. His young wife did not appreciate his strenuous efforts and infinitely preferred the preliminary caresses which brought her a proficient amount of climaxes. It must be admitted that George, despite his physical condition, still stuck to the age-old rule that husbands and lovers, if they are to be gentlemen, knock before entering.

Under the caresses of George's expert fingers, Florentine experienced the highest flights of lust and passion. As a matter of fact, the climaxes she received from his lips and fingers were far superior to the weak tremor she noticed once the union was completed. If she had only admitted this openly, she would have saved George a lot of unnecessary headaches and worries. But, she was afraid of making him angry. Moreover, a black cloud hung over the blue sky of their happiness. She had been married almost six months now, and as of yet there was no sign of pregnancy. This basically, was the cause of her infinite demands upon George's waning prowess.

Aunt Briquart only smiled when she listened to Florentine's confidences. She was sure that Julia did everything in her power to prevent what Florentine so desperately wanted!

Spring flew by, summer came to a close and Florentine felt somewhat tired from the heat of the season. George had almost neared a stage of total collapse.

“My dear Vaudrez,” his doctor, who had come over for lunch one day, said to him, “you and I have been friends for a long time. I think you have to hear the truth. If you do not leave as quickly as possible for a rest cure on the sea, I am afraid that the bell will toll for you come next spring. Impotence is beating at your door!”

“Doctor, you are joking. What about my wife?”

“My dear friend, your wife can do whatever she pleases. I consider her the main factor of your miserable condition, and as your doctor I order that this factor must be eliminated.”

“But to live a month, or possibly even six weeks away from her!? Impossible!”

“I have no intention to beat around the bush. I trust that I have made myself perfectly clear.”

“You certainly did, doctor. I am sorry that I am not twenty years younger.”

“That, my dear friend, is something which I keep repeating to myself every day,” smiled the doctor.