Gustav Schlling - Memoirs of a Baron

Her glazing eyes, her deep red blush, her quivering lips, her gasping breath, and the spasms that jerked every muscle of her lovely body, told me that she was about to reach the sensation of extreme pleasure.

I slipped my hands under her buttocks, and my fingers toyed around the cleavage, putting gentle pressure on that other entrance. I tried to increase her pleasure as much as I possibly could.

Her fountain started to run; she grasped me by the neck, and her voice broke when she begged me to hold still. Incredible delight flowed through my veins when her passion juices gently bathed my staff.

It made me so passionate that I was no longer capable of containing myself and we started again to play love's most rigorous game with renewed vigor. The goddess of love must have looked upon our efforts with great favor, because we emptied the cup of passion and ecstasy for the third time, together.

We dressed. The Marquise was loath to let me out of her arms.

“The day after tomorrow I will spend the night in my petite maison in the suburb. We can go there together; you can ride with me.” ' Undoubtedly my readers will know what a petite maison in Paris is all about, and therefore I will tell you next how we sported in those delightful surroundings.

My readers know where we went. At nightfall she sent all the servants home, except for one old woman. We whiled away several pleasant hours with idle talk and dallying, and then she invited me to go into the little side room where I would receive my instructions. I met the old woman there who, while paying me many a flattering compliment about my physique, proceeded to undress me. She oiled my hair, braided a wreath of flowers around my brow, and rubbed my body all over with fine-smelling, invigorating water. The old woman was an inexhaustible talker, and she did not stop massaging me. Occasionally she would bend down and kiss my prick, at the same time complimenting me, saying that she had never before seen such an exquisitely well-formed and extremely well-developed specimen. She assured me by everything that was holy that she was speaking the gospel truth. She only wished that she were about thirty years younger.

I jokingly told her that, if she allowed me, it would be my pleasure to visit her, and that if I could be of any service to her, I would consider it a delightful duty.

She was going to remind me of this promise, she said, and she hoped that, being an honorable man, I would not break my given word to her.

She now opened the door to another room. I was blinded by the beauty of what I saw. It seemed as if I had been transported to a fairytale castle. I stood in the most beautiful copse. The trees had been copied from nature in such perfection that I was wondering whether art could really create greater beauty than nature. The walls had been painted so superbly that it seemed as if I were looking through the forest and in the distance I could see the sun throwing its last rays across the horizon. Could it be real? The heavenly sphere of stars on the ceiling and the full moon were the only sources of light. They had a magical effect. A zephyr blew through the leaves and filled the area with a wonderful aroma. I stood as if nailed to the floor and happiness flowed through me when suddenly a nightingale began her melting song.

I finally dared to walk through the door. I cannot tell you how I felt when I saw, next to a fountain, on top of a green hill, under the shade of an enormous tree, the most beautiful female figure in paradise, without the fig leaf, sleeping lightly.

I came closer; she awoke, stretched her arms toward me and pulled me down on the soft, resilient upholstery next to her.

“Did Daphne's abode surprise you?”

“Most beautiful Marquise…”

“Hush… I am now Daphne, awaiting Apollo.”

The surprise had made too great an impression upon me, and I was incapable of expressing my admiration, and even less my sudden happiness.

I could not tear my eyes away from the lovely Daphne. Long dark hair framed her beautiful face and fell down upon her beautiful bosom, inviting me to voluptuous delights. The whiteness of her enchanting body, the whole form and position, the place itself, and the cozy darkness… all this would have been enough to warm up a marble statue.

I felt the burning fire within me, threw myself upon her, embraced her passionately and guided god Amour into the hall of coronation. She received me with utmost compassion. I heard a whispering sound and when I looked up I saw the branches of the tree close over our heads.

What a heavenly surprise!

We had barely started the battle of our sexes when two flutes sounded a lingering melody, making perfect music.

My sensations had reached the ultimate.

She was cooing voluptuously in my arms, proving to me how happy we were. The flutes fell silent and we emptied the cup of passion together. We then sank exhausted to the floor and into a short, but deep slumber. After a while, my darling Daphne said:

“Shall we get up and refresh ourselves, dear Baron?”

A flick of the wrist from my Marquise, and the beautiful copse no longer existed. We got up and walked into a well-lit grotto, where we found refreshments. A voluptuous-looking sofa invited us to sit down and we revived our flagging spirits with good wine and passionate flirtations. Who could not, in the company of such an enchanting woman, give reign to his passions?

Soon I was back in Daphne's arms, sucking passion off her rosebud lips. Amour went through the entrance of Venus' temple, kissed Hymen fleetingly and ran back to the exit to find out if he would be followed. Suddenly Daphne lifted her voluptuous behind and Amour was entwined in Hymen's arms ere he could think of fleeing. Now they united for pleasure with soft flowing waves of passion till they threw themselves in the sea of love and cooled their burning feelings. The clock struck twelve and the two flutes sang a lovely adagio.

Daphne led me toward the voluptuous-looking bed. Arm in arm, chest against bosom, lips upon lips, we sank down into the warm embrace of the goose down. New feelings warmed our bodies; we desired fulfillment as if it were the first time we embraced each other. We tried everything that could sweeten our delights even more. We became very passionately heated, a voluptuous atmosphere surrounded us, little pearls of sweat made our bodies slippery. We lost all sense of time and became unable to speak. Soft groans emanated from our lips; we fell into a dizzying whirl of passion and tumbled into the arms of the god of sleep.

Excuse me, dearest and passionate Glossen, beautiful and desirable Flamman, I have known intense satisfaction in your embraces, but my Daphne was far superior. Everything that could possibly excite the senses, increase the charm and bring out the passion was united in her person. She knew how to make the slightest caress become an intensely strong charge for the voluptuous nerves which demand an instant release from tension.

The newborn day awakened us. We rushed from the arms of sleep into the arms of love, and we were the happiest of all mortals.

I remained in Paris for almost a full year. My relationship with the Marquise remained uninterrupted and our last embrace was as passionate, as tender and as rewarding as our first one had been. My Marquise was inconsolable at my departure.

One morning while I was still in bed, my servant announced that there was a female outside who insisted that she had to see me.

“Who is she?”

“I don't know, and she does not want to tell me, either. I suppose…”

“Well, speak up… what do you suppose?”

“I suppose that she carries one of those secret messages; Lord knows from what beautiful lady.”