Anonymous - Voluptuous Confessions Of A French Lady Of Fashion

Charles got off and laid down by my side, visibly fatigued.

In spite of my desires and my imagination, I had felt no pleasure. That did not astonish me, as I had been taught so by Bertha. Charles kissed me, and wishing me good night turned his back, and fell asleep.

I was very much surprised and quite embarrassed. I fully expected we should begin again, and in spite of the pain was quite ready to do so. At last I resigned myself to the inevitable, and slumbered too.

I awoke the next morning very late — I was alone. On hearing the sudden movement I made in sitting up Charles came out of the neighbouring room and approached me. He was completely dressed already, and he kissed me on the forehead, uttered a few kind words, and asked me if I had slept well; but all this was cold and distant. My heart, ready to spring towards him, stopped in its flight; it seemed to me that he should have waited until I awoke, to take me in his arms, and speak of love and happiness, and then recommence the caresses of the night.

I could guess that I should have answered his transports, and that no fear of pain would have prevented me receiving him again! At length a doubt for my future flashed across me, this was not what I had dreamed! Charles went out, saying that he left me to dress, but I had no thought of toilette, and I busied myself in sad thoughts. A well-known loveable voice called me, and Bertha ran to embrace me.

I put my arms round her neck, held her tightly, and began to cry.

"Gracious me! What is the matter, dear child?" she said.

I should not have known how to answer her, as I had no complaint to make, I only felt that I was not loved as I had hoped to be, and that my ardent furnace would never be able to burn freely.

Bertha thought that I was simply hysterical, and calmed me by gentle joking.

My natural gaiety soon got the upper hand; I rose and took a bath that my maid had already prepared.

The day passed slowly, everybody was happy around me; my husband seemed enchanted, he was as tender and gallant as his nature would permit. I was pleased with him, and timidly responded to his distant caresses. Night came; he led me away at an early hour, and we went to bed. Less timid than the night before, he took me in his arms, said that he loved me, and kissed me tenderly. I made bold enough to tell him that I also loved him, and gave him a kiss that electrified him.

Already I felt on my naked thigh something hard that promised much.

As on the preceding evening he placed his lips to my ear, and said: "Shall we do like last night?"

I could not answer, but I could not help opening my thighs, and lifting my nightgown in secret, he got over me, and I held him fast in my embrace, waiting and impatiently desiring the supreme moment.

I soon felt the head of his instrument. A shivering fit seized me, during which I took care to introduce it as far in as possible. I still felt a tolerably severe pain, but that did not stop me; the happy fire that circulated through my veins made me support all. Already I felt the advance symptoms of enjoyment. I tried all I could not to speak; I wanted to cry out, and tell all I felt. I now perfectly understood my aunt's words, but the silence of Charles, who seemed wrapped up in himself, prevented me giving vent to my feelings.

He continued his movements, and kissed me, but he did not seem beside himself, as I should have wished. I could not resist the impulse to push up my bottom, and cry out! Then I remained perfectly still… I was spending… so that I almost lost my senses.

Charles stopped for a second, and seemed astonished at my transports. I curbed myself, and he still pursued his career… what more can I say?

He was a long while performing his sweet duty, and I poured out the sweet dew four times! At last I felt him shudder and sigh, and a fiery, flaming jet inundated my entrails.

We both remained quiet. I, exalted, in a fever, but ready to begin again; he, broken down, and only requiring rest. So we fell asleep.

Next morning, on awakening, I found myself once more alone. I was not sorry, and my brain recapitulated the scene of the night, till I felt a curiosity that impelled me to examine my body. I sat up on the pillows, my legs well apart, and with my hands opened the lips of my crack. I found a great change; the interior was much more rosy, the opening was made, and my entire finger easily plunged within. This examination amused me, and would have produced certain consequences, but a discreet rap at my door made me cover myself up hastily, and take a natural position in the bed.

'Twas Bertha, who found me fresh and gay, and who smiled as she kissed me. We gossiped like sisters as I dressed.

I was a real woman now, and my pretty aunt treated me as one. She drew certain secrets from me that seemed to interest her greatly and questioning me, I told her what took place.

She seemed much surprised when I said that I had felt great pleasure four times, while Charles had only done it to me once. Evidently the slight amount of my husband's virile strength, compared to the vigour of hers, surprised her greatly.

The day passed away, and, as my husband was a great sportsman, he went out shooting. I took a walk with Bertha.

We all met at dinner, and passed the evening with a little music.

Night arrived, but how different from the two preceding ones; Charles popped an ugly silk handkerchief on his head, chatted about our early departure, about our new house, amp;c. but never a word about love, not even a caress; he embraced me coldly, and slept.

I awoke on the morrow before he did, and a terrible longing seized me to look at the instrument that I had only felt twice, and which did not much resemble Monsieur B.'s in size or strength. I was favoured by circumstances. It was warm, and Charles had thrown off the sheet, that only just hid the particular part. Luckily, his shirt had been pulled up;

I had only to draw down the sheet a little, with infinite prudence, and I caught sight of the sad tool which was to be my only consolation.

What a difference, indeed, to that of Monsieur B.! Small, wrinkled, and in a shrivelled skin, one could hardly guess at the presence of its limp head, that reposed on his thigh.

Henceforward, I believe, my destiny was fixed.

Charles stirred, I made haste to turn round and pretended to sleep, and he left the bed first, as was his habit.

The limit fixed for our sojourn at granny's house drew near.

I was far from being unhappy, as my husband was good to me and loved me as heartily as his cold nature allowed him. He was proud of my beauty and refused me nothing, but all this did not suffice. It was not what I had so much desired — namely, a voluptuous, lascivious, ardent love, for which I would have sacrificed everything, for which I was capable of real devotion! I could see laid out before me, a gentle monotonous life, probably without the birth of a child, but too difficult to support for a temperament like mine.

Charles did it to me once or twice a week, and always in the same despairing reserved style. He only kissed my cheeks or my forehead, my young firm breasts received no caresses, his hand seemed to flee that charming place that would have so gladly welcomed its touch. I too felt that I dare not try to feel him, as instinctively I knew he would have repulsed me.

We had already been married two years, I was twenty!

My temperatment now in full blast had increased in passion, instead of growing calmer! My husband did it less and less, and as I feared I had no child, and a baby would have changed my one fixed idea.

My grandmother had been dead a year. We dwelt in the town of Z — , where my husband occupied an exalted position that obliged him to be frequently absent, and these little journeys suited his taste for hunting and shooting.