Anonymous - Pearl

"Miss Clare was an apt pupil, and quickly arranged herself over her aunt's face, so as to present her excited cunny to my lips.

"Lady St. Jerome had an extraordinary gift of contraction in her vagina, it took hold of my cock, like a delicately soft hand with a frigging motion, as she wriggled and met my thrusts, of the most delicious kind. I grasped and moulded her lovely breasts with both hands, for she held me convulsively to her body, and I had no necessity to clasp her myself. Our conjunction was so exciting that I spent again immediately, under the touches of what I called her invisible hand, then steadying myself I revelled in love and lubricity for more than half-an-hour, both the dear ladies gasping, sighing, and sometimes when they spent giving vent to subdued shrieks of pleasure and dearment. Clare seemed quite as excited as her aunt, who I found was frigging her bottom-hole, and rousing all her lustful propensities to the utmost, with a disengaged hand, as soon as she found I was so safely rooted in herself that one arm could hold me.

"I can't tell you how we finished, for there seemed to be no end to it; however, about eleven o'clock we apparently awoke from a kind of delicious lethargy, into which we had all fallen, and we soon sufficiently composed ourselves to ring for the carriage and start for town; on the plea of keeping out the chilly night air, the windows were put up, and I had one or the other of them astride of my lap and spitted on the shaft of love till the noise of granite pavement under the wheels of the carriage warned us of the near approach to St. James' Square.

"I have promised not to marry, but expressed my wish to be received into the Church by the Holy Father himself soon after Christmas, when I will visit Rome on purpose; this will give me plenty of time to carry on my game, and prove to the Jesuits that I am now quite equal to the tricks they played on me, when they had me down at Vauxe before, and imposed on the weak senses of a poor boy, quite green to the ways of the world. I can love Clare, when I don't think of it, but if I do I should hate her even in the midst of our love transports."

Our time in town was getting short, so at my suggestion Bertram and St. Aldegonde arranged an early day with Lothair, for his initiation to the Paphian Circle.

We were still at Crecy House, and this time the affair was managed under cover of a small private party at the Duke of Brecon's, where we dismissed our carriages, and then drove out in those of his Grace for a country excursion, which of course only extended to Cheyne Walk. Everything was in readiness, and Lothair being admitted as usual, we quickly appeared in the garb of Madre Natura as before. Partners were drawn for the first dance, my lot fell to the Duke of Brecon, whilst Lothair was drawn by Alice, and Lady Corisande presided at the piano, where her brilliant execution helped to add to the excitement engendered by the lascivious motions of the dance, in which, when the gentlemen and ladies changed partners as they went through the figure, they gave our bottoms a fine smarting spank, which we repaid by sharp little slaps on their extended cocks, soon getting tremendously warm and excited over our quadrille, and at the conclusion could scarcely restrain ourselves sufficiently to allow Lothair to give the usual kiss all round to our palpitating cunnies.

I noticed Lady Bertha very busy whispering to everyone, and soon found out that she was proposing a little bit of extra fun for us, of which the novice was of course to be the victim, whilst both pleasure and profit would accrue to the Paphian Circle.

(To be continued.)

PROGRESS.

Let those who never tried, believe,

In woman's chastity!

Let her who ne'er was asked, receive,

The praise of modesty!

Again I've been at Church to-day,

And eyed that angel stranger;

Whose yielding glances seem to say,

"I love, but dread the danger."

Too truly sung the Indian sage,

That "Father, Brother, Son,

To her who feels the sexual rage

Are lawful — all are one."

Tho' woman's virtue's true as steel

Before you touch her soul;

Still let it once the Magnet feel

'Twill flutter tow'rds the Pole!

EXPOSTULATION WITH A FIERCE PREACHER.

Oh, jealous Cotterill, why so warm?

Because your congregation,

In spite of all you preach and storm,

Persist in fornication.

And so you think a ball-room dress

Unfitted for a pew,

And fain would check the wantonness

That gives the breasts to view.

"Indecent" is a cruel word

To use to strict church-goers,

It's very awful by the Lord

To call us rogues and whores.

In pews, like sheep in pens we sit,

While you indulge in barking,

If sheep will cast sheep's eyes a bit

It is not worth remarking.

The ball-room and the play-house gay

In India are so rare,

That church for those who play or pray

Is crowded by the fair.

Poor Cotterill — why then should he grieve

Because our glances roam?

He merely wants us all to leave

Our "Hearts and Souls" at home.

I joy the lecherous girl to squeeze,

I joy thy rage to see,

So first I sin myself to please

And next to anger thee.

The silliest goose that swims the lake

Is known to be the Dotterel,

That spelling must be a mistake,

The name I'm sure is Cotterill!

HYMN TO THE GENIUS OF WOMAN.

(A statue in the Florentine Gallery.)

Genius of woman, glorious form

Of perfect loveliness,

I worship thee, with beauty warm,

Released from every dress.

Oh smile on him to Thee who bows,

Who worships Thee alone;

And pays his deep impassioned vows,

At none but Beauty's throne.

And bless thou Her whose pencil gave,

Thy dazzling limbs to light,

Naked, as rising from the wave,

They shone all rosy bright.

It was a homage due to Thee,

By grateful Chloris paid;

For Thou with every conquering charm,

Has't blest the golden maid.

And every touch her pencil gave,

To each alluring part;

Has bound in firmer spells the slave,

Of pleasure, love, and art.

Oh sacred, fervent, silent be,

Our worship at Thy shrine;

No eye profane shall ever see,

Thy lineaments divine.

LA ROSE D'AMOUR;

Or the Adventures of a Gentleman in search of Pleasure.

Translated from the French.

"Thus every creature, and of every kind,

The sweet joys of sweet coition find." — dryden.

chapter I.

At the age of seventeen, through the mistaken but paternal fondness of my father, the Count de L—, I was still immured in an old chateau, on the coast of Brittany, with no society but that of my tutors, an eternal round of daily lessons, to be gotten only by poring over some dozens of musty volumes. Naturally of an indolent disposition, I became ennuyed to such a degree by the monotonous routine of my life that I verily believe I could not have survived three months longer had it not been for an accession of company which the old chateau received.

I was most agreeably surprised, while at my studies one morning, by the noise of carriage wheels driving rapidly over the stone pavement of the courtyard. I threw my book into one corner, bounded down the stairs, and met my father at the hall door; he was accompanied by my uncle, Count C—, and his two sons, who were about my own age.

In the course of the day my father told me that he was about to start for Russia as ambassador, and that after remaining at the chateau for a week or two, my uncle and cousins would return to Paris, taking me with them, as during his absence I was to reside with my uncle.