Erotic Classics II

by Various Authors

  ‘It would be the supremest happiness,’ he said, ‘to pity and console you.’ He clasped his arms around me and our lips met.

  The moment I had so long desired for had now come. I was borne in his strong arms to the bed, where I lay palpitating with desire while he stripped off his outer garments. Then the fervour of our kisses and caresses showed the length of time we had both suffered without an embrace. My dress formed no obstacle to his caresses, either to my bosom, which he fairly seemed to devour, or to my thighs, which he squeezed and patted. I guided his shaft with one hand while with the other I parted the hair encircling the lips to receive it. How stiff it was, and yet how full of life and warmth! How tight, and yet how soft and lubricated was the place it was entering! I was so eager I had not even affected to be coy.

  ‘How delicious!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘How exquisite!’ I replied.

  He gave a thrust which enabled me to take his shaft in to the hilt. Then he gave another and another, each successive one more greedily swallowed. Flesh and blood could no longer endure the rapture that was concentrated at my very loins! I thrilled from my womb to my very fingertips! I melted and bathed his hot crest; his responsive gush drenched my glowing womb. It seemed as if we were being fused together at the point of contact. Then our muscles relaxed closely in the moisture and we engaged for a while in voluptuous repose.

  ‘Now kiss me and go,’ said I, ‘and if you value the favour I have granted you, leave this house at once.’

  My object was to fill his place with another handsome Russian, who might come fresh to the encounter, and whose genitals my wanton hands might explore and my wanton desire ravish. Months of longing were to be supplied by one night of boundless lust. Six times more before the ball broke up I took a Russian officer to my room and dismissed him as before—and each time a different one. Each time I was completely melted, and my Italian moisture mingled with the Russian sperm.

  The next morning my glass showed me that I had dark and sunken circles around my eyes, and I was somewhat languid, but for a few days at least I was not troubled with desire.

  The fat and charming Italian lady had been gently fondling my genitals all the while she had been speaking and my shaft had begun to rise at the delicate attention. When she finished her story she knelt before me with her forehead on the carpet, laughingly saying, ‘salaam, alikoum,’ which was the Moorish to signify she was at my service.

  Her large, round buttocks were elevated in the air and looked so temptingly smooth and soft that I mounted her in that position as a stallion would mount a mare. She seemed nothing loth and my half-stiffened shaft worked its way in past the swollen lips—past the extraordinary protuberance within, which my fingers had first discovered—and buried itself amid the moist and clinging folds of her sheath.

  My loins sank into her fat buttocks, which yielded as I pushed, till my stones were hidden in her hair like eggs in a nest. Still I kept pushing into the yielding mass without once drawing back till my shaft grew stiff with the delightful sensation, and my crest exchanged a wanton desire with her womb. I held her firmly by clasping a great, soft breast in either hand. A few minutes more and I would have paid tribute to her voluptuous loins, but Laura could not wait. With a sigh of satisfaction her frame became limp, her knees gave way and she sank flat upon her belly. My shaft drew out of her far stiffer than it went in. The same accompanying sucking noise that ended my connection with Helene set them all to laughing.

  ‘I must take a measurement,’ said one of them and, taking off her bracelet, she clasped it around my shaft. But the clasp would not fasten. The bracelet was not large enough. Then they all tried their bracelets on with the same result.

  ‘How shall we measure its length?’ said one of them.

  ‘Four of you have that measure already,’ said I, ‘and you know I promised it to all of you. Please let me take some measurements now,’ I added, unwinding the garter from the leg of the nearest lady. It was a piece of strong tape and suited my purpose admirably. I measured the size of all their bosoms and the circumference of their thighs, and then, amid laughing protestations, I parted the hair between each pair of thighs and measured the length of their slits. In the last measurement they all seemed to be desirous of being the smallest, as in the other they each wished to be the largest in size. The young Persian who told her story later in the evening bore off the palm in the last contest. Her diminutive slit looked all the more cunning that the hair around it was hardly long enough to curl. Zuleika had the largest bosoms, while the thighs of Laura defied competition.

  ‘Here, Anna, take the scarf,’ interrupted the Italian, ‘and tell the Captain something about Circassia.’

  The lady thus addressed was about nineteen years of age and she was very tall and slender. Her limbs were finely tapered; so was her round waist, which I could have spanned with my two hands. Her nicely cut breasts were as erect as if they had been carved from alabaster, which her skin resembled in whiteness. The hair on her small head was of the palest blonde, but that at her loins was fiery red, which I had read was a sign of uncontrollable wantonness.

  If so, this lady’s face gave no indication of it. Her large blue eyes looked at you with the innocence of childhood, and the delicate roseate hue of her cheeks varied at every changing emotion. She did not seem sensible, however, of the privilege conferred upon her by the scarf. She stretched herself between my thighs, where she leaned with her elbow on the cushion, supporting her graceful head with her hand. Her bosom rested on my loins and my shaft was imprisoned by her snowy breasts from between which its red crest peeped out while she looked me in the face and told her lascivious story.

  Chapter VI

  The Circassian Lady’s Story

  The powerful old chief to whom my mother was married had no children of his own. I was her only child by a former marriage and her fondness was all centred on me. Our religion, which was the Greek, forbade a plurality of wives. The old chief was not likely to have a direct heir, and, as he was now seventy, her great object was to have him confer on me the succession to the principality; this last he consented to do if she would countenance his amours with other women. She consented to do so and the strange compact was formed—I was present as witness.

  Unknown to either of them, I had been in the habit, for a long time, of frequenting a little alcove in their bedroom where a few books were kept. It was separated by a curtain from the rest of the room and communicated also with my chamber by a sliding panel. This secret panel, which I had accidentally discovered, was a kind often met with in such old castles as we inhabited. It was known to me alone, or, if the old chief knew it was there, he never thought of it. I had there witnessed all the secrets of the marriage chamber, and of course my passions were rapidly developed.

  My mother was still plump and handsome; she enjoyed keenly the marriage embrace, but always had to work very hard in order to finish the tardy rapture of the old chief. On the occasion of the compact I heard her tell him she could give him all he wanted. He could only reply that a man liked a variety.

  ‘Very well,’ said she, ‘make out the deed for Anna’s succession and I will not only countenance but assist in your amours. We can in that way at least secure secrecy and avoid scandal, for no one will suspect a wife of conniving at her husband’s amours.’

  The old chief then confided to her that the present object of his desire was Leuline, the handsome wife of the steward of the castle. The next evening I was at my post early. My mother had already managed with Leuline. She was a large and voluptuous-looking woman with dark hair and blue eyes; her bosoms were not much developed, but her thighs were immense. She got into bed with my mother and pretended to be asleep when the old chief came in. He undressed and got into bed with them and mounted Leuline, who lay with her head on my mother’s arm, close to her bosom. An expression of pleasure stole over Leuline’s face, which became more ineffable at every thrust. At l
ast their mingled sighs and the stillness that followed gave proof that the embrace had been mutually satisfactory.

  (‘You can imagine,’ said Anna, smiling at the other girls, ‘how I longed for the embrace of a man.’)

  Plans for future meetings and jokes at the expense of Leuline’s husband filled up the time, together with explorations of Leuline’s charms, till the shaft of the old chief grew again stiff. He plunged it into Leuline’s great loins, and she enjoyed it so highly that she finished and left him in the lurch. I could hardly restrain myself, I so longed for the thrusts that were now wasted on Leuline. My mother must have felt the same way, for she asked the old chief to let her finish him. He had more than once sucked her fine bosoms during this onset. He now transferred his crimson crest dripping with Leuline’s moisture. The energy with which my mother received him made me fairly wriggle my loins in sympathy. She wound her arms around him and raised up her loins to meet his descending thrusts, then their frames were convulsed for a few moments with the culminant rapture and they subsided into perfect repose. I had often before felt wanton emotion at my post of observation; I now left the alcove in a frenzy of lust. I wanted a man, and that immediately; I was about to seek one of the sentinels at his post, to confer my virginity on the first rude soldier I met on the cover of the ramparts, when I remembered Tessidor, a young priest, who was attached to the chapel of the castle.

  He was a delicate-looking youth of about seventeen, with a countenance which indicated the purity of his character. I went to his room and timidly knocked on the door. To my timid knock the answer was delayed; when at last he said ‘come in,’ I saw that he had employed the interval by slipping on a nightshirt, for he had been just about to retire. He looked astonished, as well he might, when he saw me.

  ‘I have come to make a confession and ask your counsel,’ said I.

  ‘Had we better not go to the chapel?’ he asked.

  ‘It is better here,’ I said, ‘for the subject is a worldly one, though of much importance to me. I love a young man who is indifferent to my preference, nay, he is even insensible to my love. I would have my parents hint to him that his addresses would be accepted; but I am meant to marry a soldier and he is not a soldier. What shall I do?’

  ‘Strive to forget him, my lady,’ was the reply. I stood a moment with my look cast on the ground and my cheeks burning.

  ‘Cruel man,’ I said, ‘it is you who have my heart.’ My head dropped forward, I seemed about to fall, but I put up my mouth for the kiss which he bent over to impress upon it. Regrets were then mingled with kisses, while I allowed my wrapper to fall open and expose my bosoms. He ventured timidly to kiss them; his kisses became more and more ardent. I had got him at last where a man has no conscience. He stretched himself on the bed beside me, took me in his arms: our lips were glued together.

  As much by my contrivance as his own, but he did not know it, my wrapper and dressing gown opened, and a skirt and chemise were all that separated a stiff little object from my thighs. Fired by lust as I was, I had shame enough left to leave the removal of these slight obstructions to him. I could hardly wait upon his timidity. I must have been the first woman he had ever entered, for he was very awkward in guiding his crest to the lips that yearned to close upon it. It was a little thing, but very stiff. At last it penetrated me a little way and I felt the touch of his crest against my maidenhead like an electric shock; it set all my nerves tingling with pleasure, and expectant of the coming connection, I could no longer even feign modesty. I involuntarily wrapped my arms around him and he gave the fateful thrust. His little crest pierced through my maidenhead with a cutting pain which I felt no more than a bulling heifer would have felt the stroke of a switch. The pain was drowned in overwhelming pleasure. The thrill swept over every fibre in my frame, not only at the first thrust, but three times successively, and at each plunge I gave a sigh of rapture. Then my tense muscles relaxed and I received with pleasure at least a dozen more thrusts. Something was still wanting. It was the gush of sperm that Tessidor at last poured into my heated sheath like balm. He sank heavily upon me for a few minutes with his face buried in my neck. I was enjoying a voluptuous languor, when I felt his little shrunken crest floating out of my sheath with the mingled blood and sperm. Remorse had already seized him. He raised himself on his elbow and gazed pitifully into my face. I was past blushing so I covered my face with my hands.

  ‘I have ruined you,’ he said, ‘wretch that I am, heaven forgive me!’ He got up from the bed without even giving me another kiss and knelt before his crucifix. ‘Will you join me in asking heaven for mercy on my sin?’ he beseeched. I made some excuse and fled from the room. The next morning I heard that he had gone to join a convent in the mountains. By this time I had come to the conclusion that I had let him off too quickly. I had not had enough.

  Perhaps a warm bath would help to soothe me. There was a large bath half the size of a room and deep enough when full to cover my breasts; there was a door to it from my room and one from my mother’s; she was busy at this time in the morning with her servants. It was the old chief’s time to take a bath and he always had the warm water; I determined to share it with him. I had heretofore doubted whether the old chief would want to touch his wife’s daughter, but my success with the young priest gave me courage. I took off all my clothes in my room and peeped through the door. He was floating on his back playing with his shaft, which dangled limber in the water. I had most always seen it stiff, and I promised myself the pleasure of getting it in that position, which I preferred.

  Pretty soon he came to the side towards me, where he could not be seen by me; now was the time for me to come in as if I had not known he was there. I opened my door suddenly and ran and jumped into the water. I swam across the bath, turned around and became the picture of astonishment at seeing him. I first covered my face with my hands, then covered by bosom with one hand and my loins with the other. I did not scream; that might bring my mother. Then I turned my back on him. The side of the bath where I stood was perpendicular. He stood by the sloping side where we got out—of course I had to stay.

  ‘It’s all right, Anna,’ he said, ‘we will have a nice bath together.’ I started to dodge past him, but of course he caught me.

  ‘I shall scream,’ said I, but of course I did not scream.

  I was fast in his arms, his stiffening shaft crushing against my buttocks and each of his hands squeezing one of my bosoms. My apprehensions of reluctance on his part were all departed, so I kept up more show of resistance. I struggled to get away, but only struggled harder to get around in front of him. This brought my back to the sloping side of the bathtub, against which he pressed me. Half standing and half lying my head was still above water. The wantonness of the situation and the warmth of the water made the bath seem like a voluptuous sea. Of course I had put both arms around him to keep from sinking; his hands were thus both at liberty. He needed them both to work his half-stiffened shaft into me. Leuline and my mother only the night before had taken the starch out of it; nothing but the excitement of such a kind of rape would have stiffened it at all. Half limber as it was, it completely filled me, paining me a little at first, but gradually feeling better and better, pervading all through me with the most lascivious sensation. The warm water churned in and out of my sheath at every thrust with a feeling like gushing sperm. All the water in the bath seemed to be of the male gender, and all of it embracing me and administering to my lust.

  For fully five minutes I abandoned myself to the delicious dissolving feeling, not as thrilling as the young priest had caused the night before, but more prolonged. Even after it had subsided and died away, the plunges of the old chief were still pleasant. Finally his shaft became for a moment rigid deep within me, he gave a throb or two which deprived him of his strength and he no longer supported me. I scrambled from his arms up the side of the bath and, regaining my own room, shut the door and sank exhausted on the bed.
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br />   We never pursued the intrigue, as the terror of my mother was too much before our eyes. Besides I was a few days after engaged in an amour with Rudolf, the handsome young captain of the guard, while the old chief had been supplied with a fresh bedfellow by my mother.

  This time, in the place of Leuline, it was a young maid, who timidly blushed—for I still amused myself occasionally peeping through the alcove. A short time afterward the old chief was slain in battle and the sagacity of my mother was rewarded, for I succeeded peaceably to the principality. But my mother swayed the real power. I was willing she should do so, provided she did not interfere with my amours. It was by her advice that I did not marry.

  ‘A virgin chieftain will be popular with the people, and you can control men,’ she would say, ‘far better unmarried.’

  In fact, Rudolf, captain of the guard, was my abject slave, and so were Cassim and Selim, two of the bravest young chiefs in the army. I admitted them all to my bed in turn, Rudolf the most frequently, for he was powerfully built and had genitals correspondingly large.

  When I wished to be tickled deeply, the tall and slender Selim received the secret summons to my chamber. Cassim was short and stout—it was agreeable sometimes to be stretched without being deeply penetrated. Each of these suspected that the others also enjoyed my favour, but they were not certain of it. One evening I invited them all to my secret apartments. The sideboard had been replenished, the servants had been dismissed for the evening and the doors locked. I was dressed in a purple velvet bodice with a petticoat of red silk. I had on my richest lace and jewellery and the crown of the principality was on my brow. The handsome young officers glittered in their splendid uniforms; suspense and curiosity were mingled in their countenances.

  I waited until several toasts had been drunk in my honour while my wanton eyes devoured the fine proportions of the young men, then I thus addressed them: ‘Should not a Circassian princess have as many privileges as a Turkish pasha?’