Gustav Schlling - Memoirs of a Baron

The next morning I paid my respects to the Duchess. She was home for no one but me. She was also still in bed.

I took off the coverlet. She embraced me passionately and kissed me feverishly.

“Are we safe from intrusion, my goddess of love?”

“Nobody enters without my specific instructions.”

I undressed, then took off her nightgown.

I started to feel her beautiful body. She became so passionate and full of desire that her eyes glazed over and even the lips of her temple quivered.

I guided my prick into her sanctuary; she received me with a jubilant outcry and threw her legs around my body, moving so rapidly and with so much force that her fountain started to overflow before I had reached bottom.

After she had quieted down somewhat, I decided to double my efforts. She was nothing but passionate feeling. I put my hands under her fleshy buttocks and let my fingers play around in the cleft. This only increased her desire and she lost almost all self-control. Every part of her body quivered voluptuously and her breathing was a tremulous sigh. A passionate fragrance engulfed us. As soon as I emptied my sacrifice upon her altar, she lost all motion; I could only feel life deep inside her sanctuary where the fountain was still bubbling.

My pleasure was very great; the only thing missing was the nerve-shattering sensation which I experienced when I was with my Marquise. The Duchess was too passionate and too wild, and therefore incapable of bringing me to the utmost. After a short moment of recuperation she called again for renewed battle; her desire knew not of tiring.

I was overjoyed when I could return to my Marquise to find satisfaction and rest in her loving embrace.

One of my best friends was a French baron and through him I made many acquaintances and various beautiful and remarkable conquests. I will not go into details about the latter because I would have to keep repeating myself. But I must make one general remark. I have noticed that French ladies are much prettier and smaller built and far more convenient for making love than their German counterparts. They also understand the art of bringing out their most desirable qualities and they know how to give exquisite pleasure better than their German cousins.

But now I want to tell you about an extraordinary dinner party to which the baron had invited me and two other friends at his petite maison.

He led us into a large well-lit room, hung with tapestries and carpeted with large upholstered pillows. From the adjoining room harmonious music wafted into our ears. We drank a few glasses of wine and our host invited us into yet another room where we were to divest ourselves of our clothes and put on a domino mask. We thereupon went back to the large room and sat down upon the pillows.

Six nude girls, carrying baskets filled with delicacies, entered, wearing flower garlands. We ate and drank and quipped, accompanied by the harmonious music. The girls sang a beautiful song about love and passion and they executed a voluptuous pantomime. I never saw anything more charming and exciting in all my life than that dance.

After the dance the girls lay down in a circle; we threw off our masks and mixed amongst them. My quill is too dull to describe in detail all the voluptuous games that went on.

Two of us tried to get in one and the same girl whose entire body seemed to exist only for voluptuous dallying. She fled but was pursued. She stumbled over a pillow and the one who was quick enough to catch her immediately lifted her behind and guided his prick into her passion pit. The other who had missed out grabbed lustfully for another girl but he sacrificed his balsam on the floor before he had time to enter her temple. My host had lots of fun and he asked me if I did not see anything to satisfy my lusts.

Right in the beginning I had found one girl whose soft and shy demeanor had attracted me greatly. As soon as my host saw that I was about to embrace her, he too took a girl and laid her down in position. We had barely started our battle when the two remaining girls started to become very aggressive. They tried to separate the hunters from their quarries and they also treated our backsides rather harshly. One of them was especially bold.

The girl under me was extremely sensitive and she soon emptied her cup of passion. When the bold one finally got around to hit me, I was prepared for it. I turned around, grabbed her and laid her on the floor. The entrance to her passion pit was very narrow and too small for my staff. I also had grabbed and penetrated her too quickly and unexpectedly. The poor thing screamed out loud and begged for mercy. This was cause for great hilarity among the others. However, in the end she was very satisfied with me.

My readers may think whatever they want, but these excesses of voluptuousness and debauchery were too much for me, and therefore, I will end my chapter here.

I had been in London for three months already, and still I had not made one single victory among the English ladies I had met. My self-esteem was insulted. I doubled my efforts, but the cold looks and the immaculately cool behavior of my objects prevented me from doing anything at all.

A beautiful English female is worthy of the greatest admiration, but she leaves the heart empty. Not having found any satisfaction for such a long time made me very moody and cantankerous. I complained about my plight to a friend.

“That is easy to allay,” he said. “We will drive into town and, if you so desire, we can have dinner tomorrow night and dally to our heart's content with first-class ladies, depending on how much you are willing to spend.”

“What do you mean?”

“We order a dinner for twenty pounds and we have a girl of the lower classes, or, we order one for one hundred and our company will be a lady of the finest standing.”

I accepted his proposal and the next night we went into town. The presence of two delicious ladies with beautiful and gracious looks had been taken care of. We ate and drank and then repaired to an adjoining cabinet for amorous dalliance and to gorge ourselves with passion.

I wasted time with all sorts of foreplay. She did, indeed, reciprocate, but the French manner was lacking completely. I proceeded to undress her and found that her body was excitingly well formed. She finally began to warm up. I laid her on the bed and placed myself on top of her, guiding god Amour into the temple of passion. I moved and she lay still; I kissed her fervently and frequently and I practically begged her to reciprocate my movements. She did not seem to understand what I wanted. We finally emptied the cup of passion but without the giddying ecstasy which makes it so worthwhile. My paramour showed me her satisfaction by becoming a little bit more alive the second time around. However, real voluptuous ecstasy was sadly lacking.

Before we went back into the dining room, the lady inquired about my name and address. We spent another hour with pleasant conversation, then parted.

A certain Mistress Glasser allowed me to pay her my compliments from time to time and I would be unfair to her if I did not admit that I spent some passionate hours in her arms, though she never allowed me to view her beautiful nude body. Her love for me was strong, passionate and intense. The reason she broke off our affair was because she had seen me drive around with Lady Betty.

One day, when I was about to drive away, my servant handed me a small, scented note. I opened it and read:

“If you allow your carriage to stop in front of my hotel at L- Street around 4 o'clock this afternoon, I will be waiting for you.”

“Who is this?”

“Why, Lady Betty, sir.”