Gustav Schlling: Memoirs of a Baron

After Madame had read the riot act to a half-dead Lieschen and wished her a palpable good-night, I heard her close the door. She came out of her bedroom into the living room and locked that door, too.

There I stood, poor sinner, as naked as the day I was born, all my fibers tensed (because no amount of fright would have been capable of robbing them of their vigor) and I could have disappeared through the floor with shame.

Madame looked me over carefully.

“Well, my dear sir, verily, I like that! And in that attire. I would never have had the pleasure if your confusion had not made you miss that door.”

I was incapable of uttering a sound.

“Well, you could catch a cold. I will excuse you because you please me greatly in this get-up, but under the condition that I will never apprehend you doing that again. Follow me.”

She led me to the door, opened it and I hurried through. I realized when I heard her lock it behind me and laugh out loud that we were together again, in another room.

I was, and remained, dumfounded.

Madame put the light down, walked up close to me, laid her hand upon my shoulder and said:

“Young man! There has to be a punishment. I hope that, when it is over, you will have no reason to complain about my severity.”

She took hold of me and led me to the bed and invited me to lie down. I hesitated and she laid me down herself, dropped her nightgown and stretched out next to me.

I just lay there without moving a muscle.

“Can't you find anything on me,” she finally said, putting my hand upon her heaving bosom, “that is as beautiful as on Lieschen?”

The softness of her bosom cheered me up.

Oh, at the time I did not realize the value of a beautiful bosom. I sat up and haltingly kissed her, which was returned in double measure and stimulated my desire to the utmost.

“Beautiful lady,” I finally blurted, “I am beside myself. Please, have pity upon me.”

“You are glowing.”

She pulled me closer, exposed herself, spread her thighs apart, and led my hand across curled hairs to the prettiest temple of delight. I went completely berserk, threw myself upon her and pushed my rod constantly in a wrong spot. Poor me, I did not know how to behave myself.

“Don't be so eager, my darling,” said my beauty. “Save your strength. Have patience, slow down a little…”

I did not listen any longer.

Finally her beautiful hand succeeded in grabbing my staff. I grunted, she lifted herself slightly and happily succeeded in leading it into her grotto of bliss.

But I had barely entered it when I lost all feeling in the other parts of my body; it seemed to concentrate into my prick only. He flowed and I rested in her arms, completely stupefied by the pleasures of the flesh. She played around with my hair, kissed me and revived me with her dallying.

“Well, my young Baron.”

I hid my face in her bosom and was too ashamed to look up to her.

“I would almost believe, my dear boy, that I am the one who has robbed you of your virginity; why are you hiding your face?”

She lay there, resting upon her left arm, and had a good view of my entire body.

My little prick had come to life again and stood erect. She took it in her hand-lightning shot through my entire being-and smiled. When she pressed herself against me, bending over and kissing me, she said:

“Beautiful boy, you are full of fire, but shy and ashamed and dumb. Be bold and believe me… flirting and necking sweeten the pleasures of love.”

Oh, poor innocent boy!

Meanwhile the encouragement had caused me to start moving my hands again. I caressed her soft skin, squeezed her round and firm behind and searched for and reached the soft fleece of her wellspring of love.

She pressed me close to her and the busier my fingers were, the hotter became her kisses and the more swollen every muscle in my body.

She reclined, her bosom rose enormously and she looked at me greedily.

“Now, don't be so hasty, my dear,” she said. “A little bit slower and please, don't leave me halfway behind on the road to fulfillment.”

How could she expect that I knew what she was talking about?

She spread her thighs, I mounted between them; she pulled up her left leg to support herself, took my little prick and led it into the grotto (I shuddered) and threw her right leg over my hips.

This is about how I saw Lilla, I thought.

“Slowly, my love!

“Stop! Kiss me: one, two, three!

“Now again!

“No so qui…”

She started to pant, swallowed, her lips quivered, her breath halted, her eyes grew dim-she clamped herself onto me and reciprocated every push with such a vigor that at times I was suspended in the air.

“Hurry, now…. qui — cker… aaah… aaah… ooh!..”

My little staff was thoroughly drenched and my beauty closed her eyes, no longer moving; then, suddenly, I unloaded with powerful shocks and in great quantity.

Weak and spent, I rested in her arms.

I would have to be very wrong, or rather my experiences would deceive me, if my assumption that many of my readers are jealous of me were incorrect.

How many young men, despite their enormous desire, have no chance to sacrifice their chastity upon the altar of love? How many do not have the courage so that they destroy the most beautiful powers of their youth with their own hand and consume themselves in their own passion?

I was helped and encouraged by good luck. It is possible that Madame might not have been so good to me if she had not caught me in the act and if I had not fled into the wrong room. I did not do it on purpose, my desires had blinded me too much. Maybe it was not her purpose either to allow me entrance into her sanctuary if she had not seen my obstinately erect prick which tempered her fury and awakened her desire. A favorable moment and good luck afford more victories than exacting toil and trouble. I have frequently experienced this and will not fail to report it to my readers.

I happen to have this disposition, and if I had not had this opportunity, I most likely would, like thousands of youngsters, squirt courage and power through my fingers, weaken body and soul, and turn into a sluggish, discontented, bad-tempered creature which is more like a eunuch than a man; the type one encounters so frequently. Instead, now that I have reached the age of sixty, I am still strong and vigorous. I can briskly walk for three hours, ride horseback all day, enjoy living, eat and drink heartily and sleep calmly throughout the night.

It is far from me to justify everything which I am about to tell my readers; how could this make sense when I am talking about a passionate young man. He follows too often the dictates of his passion and he runs out of the groove.

It should be quite obvious that I demand for a man and a woman something entirely different than that which has been prescribed by our moral systems.

When Liesehen brought me my coffee the next morning, she was crying.

“What is the matter, Lieschen?”

“You dare ask me? I am woebegone. Madame wants to throw me out of her house and I have lost all respect.”

“Poor little girl!”

I took her in my arms and kissed her without meeting any resistance. I went with my hand under her skirt and she did not prevent it. The little entrance of her love grotto, framed by soft fleece, was quite different than the one that belonged to Madame.

“Lieschen, come… to my bed…”

She followed me without resistance; Madame was still asleep. I put her down upon her back, uncovered her and she hid her shame-ridden face in her hands and crossed her thighs.