Pleasures and Follies Page 7

  "Calmer now, Vitnègre has just told me the whole story. The hour is late. I can't take you home. You'd best go, my darling friend."

  Such was the tale Timon recounted to my daughter, which I overheard and which later she repeated in entirety to me. She returned home, her mind occupied by gloomy thoughts. I followed twenty paces behind her, glancing left and right to guard her from any misencounter. My prick rose like a pikestaff at the sight of her moving haunches.

  She entered the pension and lingered in the kitchen. I went directly down to the storeroom and hid myself. Down she came, carrying a lamp in one hand and a kettle of warm water in the other. She washed her fur, sighing all the while, and saying to herself, "Even though the villain's dead, I'm still afraid." I tapped on the bed. Conquette raised her eyes and saw me.

  I recounted everything she had been doing. That caused her a fright, but it was a salutary one and cured her of the desire to go to see Timon by herself. I told her I had met Vitnègre on the Quai des Ormes, adding, "You went there for a fuck. You'll be fucked, too. I'm going to spend the night with you." She sought to beg off, protesting that Timon's story had banished all desire from her; I refused to listen to such nonsense and got into bed. She soon lay down at my side.

  "The appetite is restored by eating," says the proverb, and we shall see how well it applies to Conquette.

  Once we were in bed together and my daughter within range, I frolicked with her breasts, sucked her teats, and encunted her. For I know not what reason – whether because put out or stubborn – my divine child lay there unstirring, inert like a slaughtered calf. I also ceased to move and remained with my sword in the scabbard. Later, having slid over upon my side, I fell asleep, my weapon still sheathed. Conquette, who had passively submitted to everything, probably went to sleep also for, when I awoke, I found I was still lodged in her trick. I began to move a little. She hugged me, squeezed her cunt, shifted her flanks, and said, "Push harder, dearest lover!" She began to jolt me with all the strength of her loins, belly and thighs. She discharged. So did I. "Who's thy chosen fucker, oh, goddess?"

  "Ah, for such things as there, there's no one but you. I'll resist your will no longer, for you are wiser than I. I have had pleasure – and owe it to you only. Begin again, dear Papa, for I would discharge in your honor. I adore you."

  Vigorously reencunting her, "Prithee, fuck now," said I, "as not long ago you fucked with your lover." She shook her buttocks as in olden times did Cleopatra or Messalina and between leaps and bounds. "Oh, bugger-fuck!" she exclaimed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck me, fuck your slut ... cuckold my sweet ballocked sire whose wife I am...whose mistress ... whose whore! Ah, I feel your prick deep within my cunt! Your tongue. Give me your tongue. Oh, I'm coming ... com-ing ... com-ing ... Fuck me! ... Ah! Ah! Ah! ... No more. I can bear no more!" With that over with she went off to wash her cunt.

  No sooner did she return than I mounted the ramparts again. Off we started. "Fling your ass about, beat me with your cunt," I exhorted her, "make it dance ... I can feel your nipper biting my prick's end ... Ah, creature of my own prick, you fuck mightily well for a novice ... Now accelerate your movements ... more rapid yet ... good, excellent ... what flexible loins!" She leapt thrice and discharged like a musket.

  "Oh!" she cried. "I wish my father's balls were freighted with a ton of fuck, and that he'd shoot it all into the bottom of my cunt!" Her prayer was answered, for I emitted straightway, and our rains of fuck met in ecstatic confluence. She performed a copious ablulation. I refreshed my weary fucking tackle, then we got back into bed and had at each other a third time. The tourney lasted more than an hour. I sucked her nipples and tongue and gave her mine to suck. I had her discharge now and again, finger me constantly and stimulate my balls. I simply had not the heart to decunt. All of a sudden, my daughter, whom I fancied thoroughly done up, fell to wiggling her ass, to convulsing her cunt as in days bygone her mother used to, but even better. My prick adopted the most resolute slope, but I was not within sight of a discharge and was able to ream her barrel as much as she liked. "I'll not bother to speak of a Vitnègre," said Conquette, "whose pleasure when aboard a woman depends upon the degree to which he brutalizes her. But you, dear Papa, you fuck with greater tenderness and more deliciously than Timon caresses me. You ply your peg like a god. This discharge is for you. A gift for Papa ... Papa ... drive deep, you're in your daughter's cunt, forge ahead, Papa, strike with your ass, fuck me, Papa ... you're in my cunt, so fuck, bugger, fuck ... fuck your daughter, you incestuous pig ... drive, drive deeper ... into your girl's cuntlet." She sweated and lay as though dead while her love juice streamed out of her entrails.

  I began again to heat the tube, wishing also to discharge before calling a halt to the night's games. The spark was soon aglow in her. "Fuck, dearest pimp, I'm your whore, your bloody cunt-for-hire ... your devoted fuckeress, your loving child," she cried out, agitating her ass with fury.

  "Here!" I tried, "here, my darling daughter, is the fuck you yearn for!" I released it deliciously, and my fuckeress discharged with even more pleasure.

  "Ah, what a night!" she murmured. "Timon would never have entertained me so sumptuously." She washed, then I did, and we fell asleep.

  To be reserved and dignified, modest and voluptuous and an accomplished fuckeress too – that is character in a woman.

  And it is rare. Such things are not to be taken lightly. Montencon, at first, failed in his attempt to stuff Madame Poilsoyeux. She was quite as modest, quite as restrained after he succeeded in fucking her as before. She carefully followed the advice I had given her not to allow him to take her accorded or extorted favors for granted. One day, as she bent forward to stir up the fire, Montencon laid hands on her cunt. She wheeled around and slapped him. "I, who know her very well," I said to Montencon, "never touch her buttocks or tug at her cunt hair without first asking permission. To be sure, she usually gives it, telling me to be quick about my business. When she is dressed and got up like one of the Fraces, I begin by requesting leave to kiss her foot. Then, gliding my hand up along her leg, I say: 'You've such a pretty leg. Let me kiss it.' I advance to the thigh: 'What satin-smooth skin!' I say. I delicately raise my hand to her fur and exclaim: 'You know, simply to see you walking in the street and shaking your ass in the charming way you have is enough to give any man an erection, make every woman turn green with envy – and I am able to say to myself: 'I've just fondled and kissed those tempting, incredibly fuckable delights.' I follow you, I overhear men saying: 'By God, I'd fuck her silly!' I can tell from their expressions what women are thinking: 'What a coquette! That gait, that posture, those clothes, that air signify "I want to be fucked! Come along, all of you, fuck me!'" Buggresses, my prick stands up for nothing but the magnificent cunt which arouses your jealousy. My daughter smiles when she hears these remarks, yields to my fondling, then gives her bubs, buttocks and cunt to be kissed."

  Montencon stared admiringly at me and asked Conquette's forgiveness. She had been listening to what I said, and her cheeks were suffused by a chaste blush.

  Some time later, having conducted her to the home of a friend. I returned in the evening to bring her home. As I was walking several paces behind her, the sublime contours of her buttocks gave me so solid an erection that, once back at Madame Brideconin's, I made a bee-line for her cunt. She demurred, for the landlady was stirring about in the vicinity. "At this particular moment, my adorable goddess, I am so inflamed by lubricity – it was the way you walked that provoked this commotion in me – that I could very easily fuck you in front of everyone in Paris." I gritted my teeth, still holding tight to her cunt hair, that silky hair which formed a long and superb peruke in the Louis XIV style.

  "Well, then," she replied, "let's get to work, for you mustn't spoil my curls."

  "In the nude, my queen." Without relaxing my grip on her cunt I followed her with every step she took. She gave me a pretty kiss – her tongue featured therein – by way of thanking me for allowing her to get undressed.


  "Don't let go of my hair," she added, "that helps put me in form." Such agreeableness only made me adore her the more. An instant later she was down to her corset. "Do my shoes suit you? Or would you prefer me to put on slippers and other stockings."

  "Slippers." With one hand I removed her shoes, the while tickling her cunt. "Oh, that white leg! How neat and tidily made you are!" She donned her slippers standing up. I released her cunt and she proceeded to wash it. Next, she walked several times around the room that way to increase my excitement.

  "I'm going to drink you dry," she promised, observing I had virtually lost control of myself. While I stripped off my breeches she sat with her legs crossed, wiggling her tantalizing pink-slippered foot.

  I could contain myself no longer. Seeing me about to leap upon her, Conquette walked towards me, had me hold her skirts up, leaned her elbows upon my shoulders and, without touching my prick with her delicate hand, impaled herself gently. She gradually descended until I thoroughly stoppered her dear little prick-squeezer. "Don't move," she said. "I want to do the fucking by myself." When she felt pleasure surge up in her, the divine fuckeress, overwhelmed, let go and fell upon me with the whole weight of her body. "Dearest prick ... in you go." She glued her burning lips to mine, contracted the muscles of her cunt, darted her tongue into my mouth, and squirted, giving vent to all her soul contained. I discharged with a prolonged shudder of joy. She kept on with her fucking for ten wonderful minutes. "Oh, fuckery I adore, the lightning flash of joy remains in the sky all the while I fuck you." 'Twas then I felt the emotion that had assailed me long ago when, as a boy unleashing his spring-tide discharges, I used to lose consciousness, and I thought now I might expire from happiness in this unique cunt. I said so as I ejaculated. She whom I held on my spear only fluttered the more energetically.

  I swore, I cursed, I called my daughter by divine titles: "Celestial cunt, majestic cunt, cunt of the gods, cunt of my prick. Was it I, or a king, or a prince, or indeed the strapping young attorney's clerk who fucked you into your whore of a mother's cunt? Who knows? But this prick of mine makes you my true daughter by mingling my fuck with yours. Divine, sacred slut, adorable embuggered buggress, I've got absolutely to embugger you too. No, on the other hand, your fuck is too precious for me to consent to lose a drop of it."

  "Fuck me as much as you like, and wherever – in my ass, my mouth, between my breasts."

  I said I would respect her wishes and then explained why I had followed in her tracks to and from Madame Brideconin's pension: "My purpose was, firstly, to be there in case of danger and, secondly, to hear whatever was said to you by the men and youths whose pricks you made stiff. One said: 'What play in the hips, what appalling movements of the ass! Ah, by Christ, my sweet bitch, were we alone I'd make your cunt bubble!'"

  "I, too, heard him," said Madame Poilsoyeux with a smile.

  "Another – it was tonight – took one look at you and began to twiddle his member in the middle of the street. 'Little mother,' he said, 'I frig myself and I'm going to discharge all because of you."

  "I heard that one also, I smiled at him and he added: 'Oh, if you are a whore, a divine whore! Fifty louis for you. Three screws. 'Twill take no more than an hour, either at your place or at mine. I live at number 16, rue de Buci, third floor, the door on the left."

  "A pretty fop," I resumed, "muttered aloud: 'My prick in her mouth and my tongue in her cunt. Aye, 'twould do nicely,' and he frigged himself, frigged, frigged!"

  "I saw him. I gave his prick a little tap with my fan. I felt very sorry for him. Indeed, I thought about him afterward. Perhaps that was why I seemed a bit testy when you seized my cunt upon our arrival here." These words gone out of her mouth and we staged a scene much like those I have already described, except that this time I laid my daughter on her back. "Dreadful Papa," she pouted, "you're pretending you are the fop ... 'tis he fucking me now ... you have me fucked by everyone who desires me ... and so I'm going to discharge in the fop's honor, sir, with his prick in my mouth, his balls dandling on my bubs and my father's prick eight inches deep in my cunt ... I'll swallow ... your sweet fuck. I'm coming!" Never had she manifested so much passion.

  She was thinking clearly, for between a brace of discharges she said: "I like your lips, they go with mine. I don't like Montencon's. I don't want him to encunt me anymore," she said, flailing her body spasmodically, "with his tongue in my mouth ... ah! ah! ah! ... if I had that buck with the fifty louis – and you know I'm not a saucy creature – I think I'd play the whore, but I'd insist upon the money in advance – Vitnègre told me girls always do – and only then would I pull down his breeches and let my cunt be martyrized for pay."

  "Quite right," said I.

  Chapter Nine

  Conquette was, as I say, naturally self-contained. She was only subject to libertinage's frenzied exaggerations during lovemaking's ecstasies, which with her, owing to her vigorous temperament, were overpoweringly strong.

  Two wholehearted fuckings, a mere nothing for a younger man, left me exhausted. And yet, upon opening my eyes, I beheld a Conquette breathless with lust and eager for more. I dashed around to the rue de Buci, found number 16, and gained the third floor. I found the young man with the fifty louis to spend. He recognized me and I began at once to speak. "I am the father of the young lady to whom you offered fifty louis."

  "The offer's still good. Three fucks, an hours in all and cash on the spot."

  "In my presence?"

  "In yours and all France's if you like. But no trouble, my good man. I'm not anxious to be rolled."

  "Oh course not. And for my part I don't want any noise. She's yours for an hour – a quiet hour."

  "By Jesus! Let's be off." He placed fifty louis in his purse.

  We arrived a few minutes later. "Here's the gentleman who caught your fancy," I said to my daughter. "You need fifty louis; he's got them for you in his pocket. Now you must earn them." The color mounted in Conquette's cheeks. But she said not a word. The gentleman removed his breeches, approached her, seized her breasts, her cunt, then said to me: "Take the money. This satin-smooth cunt, these velvety breasts are worth the price." I took his purse.

  He toppled Conquette upon the fucking-couch; she emitted a cry. "Oh, sir, my kind sir, please, don't do me any harm."

  "Have we a maid here?"

  "Alas!" she sighed, "yes..." He encunted her like a shot. She sighed some more, made timid sounds, and discharged.

  "She's adorable," declared the embattled fucker, for he was fucking and refucking her without pity and without withdrawing; 'twas thus he exploded three times in a row.

  My daughter now caressed him, now begged quarter, but went on discharging uninterruptedly. He decunted in the finest humor and, spying several drops of blood shed as a consequence of his furious fencing, affirmed, "Yes, you are honest people. A depucelage of that order is downright cheap at fifty louis. I'll send you fifty more." My daughter had left the room to straighten her up. "Indeed, were I not already married," he added in a gentler tone, "I'd marry her for both her cunt and her affection. You'll receive fifty additional louis. I'll always remember her – but shall never see you again."

  He departed. My daughter thanked me and told me she was satisfied. I turned her earnings over to her. "No, dearest Papa, that must go for our expenses." A little later, the remaining fifty arrived. Of that sum I could not prevail upon her to accept more than six louis. I left the other ninety-four in my storeroom and bade her use them if need arose.

  When on the following day I appeared in the room, Conquette announced that she was afire. "Do you know where the fop lives?" she enquired.

  "The one who pulled his prick from his breeches?"

  "Yes," she said, "that one."

  "He's of no interest. That sort always proves a fool."

  "Fool or not, I'm ablaze. Let's go out. We'll find someone and you'll follow after me."

  "Divine child, although I weary my feeble self in your heavenly cunt, my desires remain
unimpaired. And if I were to die of pleasure in pleasure, I'd beg you to give your ass yet another jerk and let me expire in the depths of your exquisite trick."

  "We'll have a fuck, then – but just one. You are too dear and too necessary to me for me to neglect your welfare."

  I climbed into the saddle. While she adjusted my prick at the gates of heaven, I said, "This outing you proposed strikes me as dangerous." And as she lay still, I continued, "No need to treat me with kid gloves. M ... move your ass, my sweet, jump, d'ye hear? Skip, screw! discharge! There's only one shot in the pistol, but it's of a generous calibre. And, before you come to grips with some heavy prick or other, you need to be exercised a little." That inspired her. Her electrified ass and cunt vibrated like Marie Antoinette's being fucked by a rascal of a gendarme in the Conciergerie. We discharged, Conquette and I, she like a queen, I like a stalwart revolutionary. I decunted, she washed.

  On with the task, 'tis that and naught else which counts! We've a cunt to enlarge, and so there's nothing for it; it's got to be fucked.

  The reader will recall the name of a certain Trait-d'Amour, formerly my secretary, Minonne's brother and the lover of Connette, whom he, too thick-pricked himself, had me depucelate for him. He was a vigorous lad of twenty and he lived a stone's-throw away. I went in search of him.

  "Well, my boy, how would you like to give a charming woman four or five substantial fuckings? I'm anxious to do her a kind turn and think with your aid she'll have the highest opinion of me. You'll have to work in the dark, but I'll arrange for you to get a glimpse of her before them. One glimpse, my good fellow, and you'll serve her royally well."

  "Excellent, excellent. It's been a fort-night since I dipped my engine and I haven't any one at hand to fuck."

  We reached the front of the house. Conquette was seated in the salon and was visible through the window. "Ah ah! But she is a provocative lass! Charming and eminently fuckable."