Voluptuous Confessions of a French Lady E-Book

anonymous

• Herausgeber: Erotic eBooks
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

"Voluptuous Confessions of a French Lady of Fashion" is a classic Victorian erotic novel, published in 1883. It contains graphic sexual descriptions and themes.
A Victorian erotica masterpiece from "The Boudoir: A Magazine of Scandal". A fascinating book considering it was written in the Victorian age. Indeed very graphic but this adds to its charm.

Leseprobe

Voluptuous Confessions of a French Lady

Anonymous

Voluptuous Confessions of a French Lady 1883AnonymousThis ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy.First edition 2012

Part I

Everything was in the same state as I have described, but a ladder was necessary, and I knew that there was one to be found in a passage near a linen cupboard. The pair of steps was very heavy, but the burning fire of curiosity that animated my movements doubled my strength. I dragged it into the alcove, found the hole and the canvas that was stretched in front of it, and with a pair of scissors I cut a small piece out of the picture. To my satisfaction, I found I could thus have a good view of the entire room, and above all--of the bed. I came downstairs quickly, shut the door, took the key, and returned to the garden. Everything had been executed so quickly that no one had noticed the strange fact of my absence. The whole of the day and the evening seemed to me to be mortally long.

At last, about half-past ten, my grandmother retired to rest, and we all followed suit. Monsieur B. wished us good night, and went off to his room; my aunt remained with me for an instant and saw me safely into my bed chamber. I kissed her and said “good evening.”

I undressed without delay, and dismissed the maid. Then I drew on my stockings again, put on a pair of velvet slippers and a dressing-gown of dark colour, and waited. At about a quarter after eleven, I slid like a shadow into the corridor; reached the little door without interruption, opened it, and locked myself in, noiselessly and without difficulty, and then I mounted my ladder, settled myself down as comfortably as possible, and looked through my peep hole. My success was complete, as I could see distinctly. The clean white bed seemed like an altar decked out for a sacrifice; a lamp placed on the night-table inundated the brilliant linen with an intense flood of light. Bertha was in the adjoining room, where I heard her performing her ablutions. They took some time, and were apparently of varied kinds, if I judge by the sound of a certain instrument that made a noise as if of clockwork being wound up.

She came back into the room at last, with nothing on but her dressing-gown, and going to the bed turned it down, arranged the pillows, and placed the lamp so as to throw a still greater light upon it. Then she took a delicate cambric chemise, trimmed with lace, and advancing towards the fulllength mirror of the wardrobe, looked in the glass for a minute or two, and by a graceful movement of her shoulders let slip the chemise she had on, which arrested in its downward course for a second by the swelling of her hips, soon fell twisted at her feet. She had already put off her gown, and now appeared completely naked before my startled eyes. No one could dream of anything finer! Her breasts, firm and high, stuck out boldly, and were surmounted by two strawberry nipples of a bright rose-pink; the fall of her back and her backside were both admirable.

At the bottom of her white and polished belly, her luxurious ebony fleece, the length and thickness of which constituted a true rarity, could be plainly seen. The contrast of this enormous black spot upon a body so white gave to Bertha a peculiar appearance of strange voluptuousness. She drew her lace shift over her head, put on her dressing gown again, loosely tying her girdle, and then walked into her parlour, holding the door ajar. A moment afterwards, I heard cautious footsteps, the door was shut to and double locked, and Bertha and Monsieur B. appeared in the bedroom. He had slippers on his naked feet, and was dressed in a summer smoking jacket, under which was only his shirt. Bertha made him sit upon a sofa, and she took her place on his left knee. Their mouths met in a lingering kiss, and then they spoke of their marriage, retarded by some obstacle that Monsieur B. could soon overcome.

“My dear angel,” said he, “how I thank you for having had sufficient confidence in me, so as not to have made me languish and wait for your precious favours! You lavish them on your true spouse, who will reward you by his everlasting love.”

As he spoke he opened the top of Bertha’s dressing-gown, and alternately kissed the two pure globes, while my aunt, reclining backwards, shuddered beneath the caresses that seemingly caused her to shiver voluptuously in every vein. Alfred, profiting by this movement, once more opened the gown, but this time at the bottom, and lifting up her chemise toyed a moment with the lovely black hairs, of which he appeared doatingly fond. Then, slightly opening the nook they were hiding, I noticed his finger slip upwards a little, and renew the playful friction that I had seen my aunt practice herself, and the imitation of which had procured for me such great enjoyment.

As for Bertha, she had seized upon and displayed the splendid member, and I could not take my eyes off it. It appeared to me to be longer and bigger than the first time I had seen it. It was fully eight or nine inches long, and as big round as my wrist.

My aunt opened her thighs, and therefore stretched her slit, which did not appear longer than my little finger. How is it possible, said I to myself, that an instrument of that size can penetrate entirely into such a little place? I concluded that my aunt, by the position she was in the first time, had doubtless received that great machine not in her body, but between her thighs, and that it must have been its rubbing against her that had rendered her so happy. My error was soon rectified, as during my reflections the two lovers had continued their sweet clicketing in silence.

“Ah!” said Bertha; “my husband!... my darling!... go on... Ah! I am so happy!... How lovely Mimi is! Oh, how I shall spend!... It’s coming now!... Do it a little longer!... Ah! I die!”

A long and silent pause, while Bertha seemed quite overcome; her form thrown back, her head hidden on her sweetheart’s shoulder, her glorious thighs still wide apart. Monsieur B. gazed at her intently, ravished at the sight.

“Come, now, come,” cried Bertha, rising; “come and put it into me. I must have it all. I want it all! Come, I am on fire. I burn, Mimi, so quick, flood me with your bounteous liquour.” Bertha threw off her dressing-gown, and stretched herself upon the bed. Alfred did the same, but, before putting himself near Bertha, he lifted his shirt and rolled it under his armpits. How beautiful he was, built like Hercules and Apollo; his proud instrument stood up stiffly growing out of a thick bush that showed it off splendidly, as he got upon the bed.

Bertha was lying on her back, her legs parted and lifted a little. Alfred got between, on his knees, and lifted his darling’s chemise right up to her neck, thus exposing her naked form to my gaze. I expected to see her get up and turn her backside to her lover as before, as I thought that was the only way it could be done, but to my great astonishment I found it was not so. Monsieur B. stretched himself upon her; Bertha lifted her legs and crossed them on his back, in such a manner that nothing escaped me. I could distinctly see Bertha’s hand capture the instrument, and direct its head to the centre of the little slit that opened to receive it. Monsieur B. gave a vigorous stroke of the loins, to which Bertha answered, and at least half of the machine penetrated into the little hole, which dilated and began to engulph it, A few more movements completed the insertion, and I saw their two growths of hair mingled together. At last I knew all about it. Now there was nothing but movements, sighs, inarticulate words, and maddening shivers.

“Let me have it all... Ah! how fine it is... Go gently,... Let us spend slowly... Hold me tight.”

“My sweet darling!... Lift up your thighs, so that it can get right in... There!... Do you feel it? Ah! how delightful!”

“I die!... Are you ready?... My Alfred; I’m going to spend... I... I... make haste!”

“I’m ready... It’s coming... There, it comes... Spend now... I’m spending... Ah!... I’ve come!”

Both remained quite quiet for a moment, then Alfred rose and I saw the dear affair as before, coming out little, red, and dropping a tear.

Bertha remained a little longer without giving signs of life, but she got up at last, and after smothering Alfred with kisses went for an instant into her dressing-room.

I thought it was all over, and began to arrange my retreat, but a secret presentiment made me stop.

Bertha went to bed again, embraced her lover in her arms, and they engaged in sweet conversation.

“I have been so happy, dear! It is so much better when we are quite at our [...]