Beauregard de Farniente - The Adventures of Father Silas

“Oh!” exclaimed she, violently agitating herself, and pressing me closer-“quicker, quicker!” “Oh! oh! quick, oh! I shall die!” Just as she said that, her body stretched out, and I felt my hand all wet; finally she fetched a deep sigh, and remained motionless.

“I assure you, brother, I was astonished at this, and as I was convinced that I had procured her no little pleasure, I eagerly desired to experience a return of the favor; but I dared not say so. I again placed one hand on her slit; and with the other laid hold of hers and put it to several parts of my body, but durst not venture to conduct it to the only part where it was really wanted. The Sister, who knew very well what I wished for, was malicious enough to leave me in this embarrassment for some tune. But at last she took pity on me, and said, as she embraced me:-“You little jade, I see what you would be at;” and she immediately got upon me, and I locked her in my arms.-“Open your thighs a little,” said she. I obeyed her. She then slipped her finger into the place where mine had given her so much pleasure; and repeated the lessons herself that she had previously given me. I felt a pleasant excitement, which increased with every shove of her finger. I did the same thing for her at the same time; she had her hands joined under my buttocks, and advised me to wriggle my rump a little, according as she pushed. Oh! what charming sensations did this amusement afford, but they were only a foretaste of greater to come. The ecstasy made me insensible, I remained in a swoon in the arms of Agatha and she was in the same condition.

“After a while I came to myself again, and discovered that I was as wet as the Sister; and not knowing what caused it, I was simple enough to think it was blood; still I was anything but frightened: it was as if the prodigy I had experienced had made me mad, so eager was I to recommence. I communicated my wish to my bed-fellow; she replied that she was tired, and that I must wait a little. I was too impatient for that, so got on her as she had been on me just before. I interlaced my thighs with hers, and rubbed myself as she had done, till I fell off in a transport of delight.- “Well now, Susan,” said the Sister on seeing how much I enjoyed it, “are you sorry that I came into your bed? I'll wager that you wish me no good for having wakened you?”-“Pooh!” answered I, “you know the contrary very well. How can I requite you for such a charming night?”-“You little slut,” said she, kissing me; “I ask you for nothing. Have I not had as much pleasure as you?-Tell me, dear Susan,” she continued, “do not conceal anything; have you never before thought of what we have been amusing ourselves with?” I said that I had not. “What!” retorted she, “have you never put your finger in your little cunny?”-I asked her the meaning of that word.-“It is,” said she, “this slit where we have just been tickling each other. Do you pretend not to know that yet? At your age I was wiser than you.”-“Indeed,” I answered, “I have always abstained from that pleasure. You know Father Jerome, our confessor; he has prevented me; he makes me tremble when I go to confess; for he always asks if I never commit impurities with my companions, and he especially forbids me to do it on myself. I have always been simple enough to believe him, but I now know how to treat his prohibitions.”- “And how,” asked Agatha, “did he explain what he meant by impurities?”-“He said it was to put your finger you know where, or to look at one's thighs or bubbies. And he asked me if I do not make use of a glass to examine other things as well as my face, and a thousand such like questions.”-“Ah! the old rascal,” cried Agatha.-“You make me,” said I to the Sister, “remember how he acts while I am at his confessional, and I have foolishly thought he was showing his friendship for me. An old villain! I now know his motive.”-“What does he do?” asked the Sister.- “Oh! he kisses my mouth, and tells me to come nearer that he may hear better; he stares at my bosom while I am speaking, lays his hand on it, tells me I must not let it be seen, for that is coquettish; but notwithstanding his sermons, he does not withdraw his hand, but pushes it further and further. When he takes it away, it is to put it under his gown, which I perceive to move up and down. He then squeezes me between his knees, holding me with his left arm; he sighs, his eyes stare, and he kisses me harder than common; his words are incoherent, and he chides and praises me at the same time.”

“I remember very well that one day, when he drew his hand from beneath his gown to give me absolution, he covered my bosom with something warm. I wiped it off directly with my handkerchief. The Father was stupefied, and said it was the sweat which ran off his fingers. What think you of it, my dear Agatha?”-“I will tell you presently; what an old sinner! Do you know, Susan, that just the same thing happened to me with him.”-“What,” said I, “did he want to do something with you?”-“That he never shall!” answered she; “I hate him beyond every thing. I never go to him now I am become more instructed.”-“And how did you get to know what he did?”-“I will tell you,” said the Sister; “but you must be discreet, or you will ruin me.”

– “I do not know, Silas,” continued my sister after a moment's silence, “if I can reveal all she told me.” My anxiety to know a story whose prelude so delighted me, furnished me with arguments to overcome Susan's hesitation. I mixed kisses with my assurances, and ultimately succeeded; and I give the Sister's relation exactly as she addressed it to Susan.

I was very young when my mother, after the decease of her fourth husband, came to live as a boarder in this convent; nevertheless I was always fearful that her residing there would make me miserable. As I grew older and wiser, my aversion to the cloister increased, I ' felt something was wanting, and that was the sight of a man. From merely regretting this privation, I passed to the consideration of what made it so deeply felt. “What is a man?” said I. “Is he a creature different from ourselves? What is the cause of the emotions the sight of him produces in my heart? It certainly cannot be the charms of his person; for Father Jerome, disagreeable as he is, excites me when I am near him. Is it the mere emotions, but why?” I felt the reason, but could not explain it.

Sometimes I retired to my chamber and gave way to reflection, which stood me in the stead of society. For what was society? Women only; and in my solitude I thought of men alone. I fathomed my heart, and asked the reason of what it felt; I undressed myself, and contemplated my person in a voluptuous manner; I was on fire, I opened my thighs and sighed; my heated imagination presented me with a man-I extended my arms to embrace him; my cunny was devoured with a burning heat; but I never had the address to put my finger in it. Always restrained by the fear of hurting myself, I suffered the most excessive itching, without daring to allay it. Sometimes I was ready to give way; but scared from my design, I put my finger towards it, and hastily withdrew it; I covered it with the hollow of my hand, and pressed it; at last, I yielded to the violence of my passion, and thrust in my finger; I cared not for the pain, but highly relished the pleasure, which was so great that I thought I should die. This I did as many times as my strength permitted.

I was enraptured with the discovery I had made, which threw some light into my mind; I concluded that since my finger could procure me such delicious moments, the men must do with us what I had been doing for myself, and that they had a kind of finger to fit the place where I had put mine, for I no longer doubted that this was the high road to pleasure. Having learned much, I was eager to see in a man the reality of that whose mere shadow had given me so much pleasure.