Gustav Schlling: Memoirs of a Baron

“Well, my darling? Your lips are burning, your eyes sparkle and your globes are trembling.”

“Is that true? Your eyes glow, and your breath is burning.”

“Your whole body has become aromatic, it seems as if your life's blood has come through the veins and colored your swan-white skin with a rosy hue of pink.

“Your loins are strong and firm, every vein is bursting and every muscle swollen with power.”

This is about how we prepared ourselves, our hands continuously playing around, firing our imagination and increasing our desire as much as possible.

My goddess now awaited me with her legs pulled up and her behind raised. I knelt between them, again gazed intently upon the pretty grotto and slowly stretched myself upon the velvet body, bringing my rod to its entrance…

“You're hesitating, increasing my longing, and that, too, is very pleasing.”

I encircled her waist with my arms and pressed her ivory hips together. The whole body of my goddess trembled, her tongue flicked out of her half-opened mouth and then I penetrated with one tremendous jolt. The obstacle of her swollen glands was too weak; my beauty emitted a loud, voluptuous and tremulous cooing and pressed my behind with both hands strongly toward herself as if she wanted to engulf that, too. Our preparations had made too strong an impression upon my passionate brunette and after four thrusts she was already gasping for air.

“Darling, please… quick-er… aah!”

I remained calm and collected, continued with slow, measured strokes and for the first time I underwent, with careful thinking, the pleasures and sensations of voluptuousness.

“Oooooh… you are torturing me.”

And truly, I noticed convulsions not only in her face but in all her fleshy parts; she squirmed strongly as if something were stuck in her throat; her eyes were half-closed, glazed and the corners filled with tears.

Suddenly she started to whine loudly, her behind became convulsive, every one of my thrusts met with three and four counter jolts, and finally a hot river burst forth out of its container and flooded hill and valley of passion as well as the entire sylvan glade of love.

“Oooooh! Aaaaah! I… can't a-ny… lon-ger…!”

A vision fit for the gods!

Here I was, pressing my half-unconscious beauty firmly against me, surrounded by the fragrance of passion, continuing with firm measured jolts. Her legs had lost their power to support her. I paused momentarily, pulled my hands from under her back, arranged her thighs over my hips so that her legs crossed and put my hands again under her behind. I continued my thrusting and played around with my fingers in the derriere cleft up in the area where the spine ends and which is called the sacrum, though I did not know its effect.

My beauty recuperated.

“Darling, passionate young man, you allow me to taste pleasures whose delights I have never felt before! Aah!”

She nibbled my tongue.

But this time I lost my careful nature; quicker and quicker and more impressive became my jolts; my prick started to swell tremendously and my breathing became shorter and shorter.

“Ooh, darling!”

Despite the strong outflow of my goddess, everything was dry inside those lips; the protuberances burned and when the most sensitive part of my nerves rubbed past them, I experienced pain.

“Oh, please, help me, darling…”

She pressed my hips with her thighs, sucked on my lips as if she were about to receive my slowly fading spirit.

To no avail. My wellspring seemed dried up, its pressure was painful.

My beauty rubbed my loins in vain.

She forgot her tongue-play and started to blink her eyes again. She pressed me against her, using all the power of her arms and legs. I lost sight, sound and feeling. The fountain of my goddess flowed again. I romped and panted. This time she was fully conscious, unlike the last time, and assisted me wherever she could. She raised herself up and opened wide so that my prick pierced her up to the hilt.

“Aah!”

Now the dams broke.

“You're choking me! Darling!”

The balm of passion erupted with indescribable force.

My beauty had barely felt the fire of this balsam for which she had longed so dearly when her lips started to quiver and a melodious cooing gurgled out of her throat. Her well-spring started to flow again and her body seemed to melt away at the same time.

“Aah!”

“Aah! Whoa!”

My jolts doubled.

“I am dying!”

Now the sacrifice had been offered. Closely embraced, mouth upon mouth, tongue against tongue, chest against bosom, we breathed our souls together and fell asleep.

The sun looked across yonder mountain into our window when I woke up.

My goddess of love was still quietly asleep.

Enraptured, I looked at the beautiful parts of this delicious body which had afforded me those indescribable delights.

I saw the wellspring of passion framed by a soft fleece and with a pink inner sanctum. So beautiful and pretty! I pressed it softly, bent my face toward the milky globes and kissed the delightful little bud, so beautiful that no painter could have painted one that was prettier.

My brunette opened her eyes with a deep sigh, encircled my neck with her arms and flooded my face with passionate kisses.

“My dear Baron, what a night this has been! Even if I were twice as old, I would still give voluntarily two years of my life for it. But, my dear, dear boy, be frugal. Don't pander to love every day, and only then if you are loved in return. My husband will be gone for another month and within a week I will be at my estate. For a week I will wait for you; do you want to visit me? Only, till that time be careful with yourself, and as far as I am concerned, I will reward you for your abstinence.”

And now!

She kisses my lips dry. She invites me to go. I am supposed to start my abstinence right away. I put my proud amour in her hand, suck on her rosebud lips and visit with my finger the little god in her grotto who receives me with joyful leaps.

“I cannot, my darling! You will be gone after dinner and according to the clock on the wall it's only four.”

“Oh, you lecher! I have just told you that you should spare yourself. Didn't I wear you out enough last night?”

I tore myself loose, pushed her thighs apart and looked with hungry eyes at her rosy cleft. It seemed to open up proudly under my gaze and await my arrival. My sweetheart smiled. I kissed her globes and they became warmer while I was kissing them.

“Why do you start a fire that you can't put out? Within a week…”

My kisses stopped her talk; I took possession of the throne and my amour penetrated into the temple. My sweetheart was teasing me. The more I tried to penetrate deeply, the farther she retreated, thus bringing me to the point of indescribable heat. Finally she surrendered and we parted, greatly satisfied with each other.

If I am not too much mistaken, my readers now need a little relaxation; I must be a miserable storyteller if the blood did not pulsate just a little more and if a secret fire had not gotten into your veins.

Who knows where to get it will also know how to help himself, and I feel terribly sorry for those who have nothing and who must take what they can. I only hope that nobody extinguishes the passionate fire with his own hand but rather with flushed face and burning eyes looks for a girl that might take pity on him.

If time and opportunity are not there, or if you already have degenerated into a girl-hater, then my book is in the first place not for you and, in the second place, it is not worth awakening whatever little feelings you may have left.

To many a reader of mine the time may have been recalled when he ventured into the first secrets of love and he may have regretted that it was neither so easy nor so successful for him, and that he did not fall into the hands of such beautiful teachers.