Randiana, Excitable Tales

Her plump breasts stood out as though chiselled by some cunning sculptor, but my eyes were not enchained by them. They wandered lower to that spot which to me was such a curious problem, and I said-. Emma called passion pain, and I have since proved her to be some sort of a philosopher. I have carefully analysed that terrible feeling which immediately precedes the act of emission, and find pain the only proper word to express it.

I struggled with her at first, for in my innocence I scarcely knew what to make of her rapid action, but I had not long to remain in doubt. Holding my prick in her left hand and gently easing back the prepuce, which had long since broken its ligature, though through no self-indulgence on my part, she brought it within the lips of her orifice, and then with a quick jerk which I have since thought was almost professional, I found myself buried to the extreme hilt in a sea of bliss.

I instinctively found myself moving up and down with the regular see-saw motion that friction will unconsciously compel, but I need not have moved, for Emma could have managed the whole business herself. The movement of her hips and her hands, which firmly grasped the cheeks of my fat young arse, soon produced the desired result, and in my ecstasy I nearly fainted. At first I thought that blood in a large quantity had passed from me and I whispered to Emma that the sheets would be stained red, and then Mamma would know, but she soon quieted my fears.

Why it's bigger than your father's. Twice more I essayed valiantly to escalade the fortress of my inamorata, and each time she expressed astonishment to think a mere child should have such 'grit' in him. All at once I heard a slight noise on the stairs, and thinking it was my mother, hastily slunk under the bed; the candle was still burning. I thought you said it was to be tomorrow. I put a drop of laudanum in your mistress's glass of grog just before retiring, so she's safe enough.

And this man called himself my father? I need scarcely say I lost all my respect for him from that moment. Not another word was passed, but peeping from my hiding-place I saw by the shadow on the wall that my father was preparing for immediate action, yet he went about it a very different way from me. He insisted upon her taking his penis into her mouth, which at first she refused, but after some little solicitation and a promise that she should go to the 'fairing' which was to be held on the following Friday, she finally consented, and to see my father's shadow wriggling about on the wall while his arse described all manner of strange and to me.

But Emma was shrewd; she knew what a frightfully drowned-out condition her fanny was in and felt sure my father, with his experience, would smell a rat, so she held on to his tool with her teeth and refused to let go till my father, between passion and pain, forced it away from her. But judge of his disgust when he found himself spending before he could reach the seat of bliss.

Now unfortunately the chamber pot was close to my head, and Emma's exhaustion after the quadruple performance was so great that for the moment she forgot me. The exclamation of my father as he stooped down and caught sight of his eldest boy recalled her to herself. I would rather draw a veil over the scene that ensued. Suffice it to say that Emma received a month's wages in the morning, and I was packed off to a boarding school. My mother had not slept so soundly as my father had fondly hoped. Whether the laudanum was not of first-rate quality, or her instincts were prematurely sharp, I have never been able to determine, but I do know that before my rather had dragged me from underneath Emma's bed on that eventful night he was saluted from behind with a blow.

Having in the last two chapters related my first boyhood experience in love, I think it will equal any to be found in works of greater fame, but I do not intend to weary you with any further relations of my early successes on the Venusian warpath. I pass over the period of my youth and very early manhood, leaving you to imagine that my first lesson with Emma and my father as joint instructors was by no means thrown away. Yet I found at the age of thirty that I was only on the threshold of mysteries far more entrancing. I had up to that time been a mere man of pleasure, whose ample fortune for my father, who had grown rich, did not disinherit me when he died sufficed to procure any of those amorous delights without which the world would be a blank to me.

I was emerging one summer's evening from the Cafe Royal in Regent Street, when De Vaux, a friend of long standing whom I was with, nodded to a gentleman passing in a hansom who at once stopped the cab and got out. He is a bircher, my boy, and one of the best in London. I had frequently seen admirable cartes of Father Peter, or rather, as he preferred to be called, Monsignor Peter, in the shop windows of the leading photographers, and at once accused myself of being a dolt not to have recognised him at first sight. Descriptions are wearisome at the best, yet were I a clever novelist given to the art, I think I might even interest those of the sterner sex in Monsignor Peter, but although in the following paragraph I faithfully delineate him, I humbly ask his pardon if he should perchance in the years to come glance over these pages and think I have not painted his portrait in colours sufficiently glowing, for I must assure my readers that Father Peter is no imaginary Apollo, but one who in the present year of grace, , lives, moves, eats, drinks, fucks and flagellates with all the verve and dash he possessed at the date I met him first, now twenty-five years ago.

Slightly above the middle height and about my own age, or possibly a year my senior, with finely chiselled features and exquisite profile, Father Peter was what the world would term an exceedingly handsome man. It is true that perfectionists have pronounced the mouth a trifle too sensual and the cheeks a thought too plump for a standard of perfection, but the women would have deemed otherwise for the grand dreamy Oriental eyes, which would have outrivaled those of Byron's Gazelle, made up for any shortcoming. The tonsure had been sparing in its dealings with his hair, which hung in thick but well-trimmed masses round a classic head, and as the slight summer breeze blew aside one lap of his long clerical coat, I noticed the elegant shape of his cods which, in spite of the tailor's art, displayed their proportions to the evident admiration of one or two.

Clinton,' said Father Peter, shaking me cordially by the hand. De Vaux is a friend of mine. May I ask if either of you have dined yet? I dine at seven, and am already rather late. I feel half-famished and was proceeding to Kensington, where my humble quarters are, when the sight of De Vaux compelled me to discharge the cab. To hail a four-wheeler and get to the doors of Father Peter's handsome but somewhat secluded dwelling, which was not very far from the south end of the long walk in Kensington Gardens, did not occupy more than twenty minutes.

I discovered that Father Peter possessed a further charm which, added to those I have already mentioned, must have made him as I thought even then and I know now perfectly invincible among womankind. He was the most fascinating conversationalist I had ever listened to. It was not so much the easy winning way in which he framed his sentences, but the rich musical intonation, and the luscious laughing method he had of suggesting an infinity of things without, as a respectable member of an eminently respectable church, committing himself in words.

No one, save at exceptional intervals, could ever repeat any actual phrase of Monsignor's which might not pass in a drawing-room, yet there was an instinctive craving on the part of his audience to hear more because they imagined he meant something which was going to lead up to something further, yet the something further never came.

Registrieren Sie sich bei Kobo und beginnen Sie noch heute mit dem eReading

But then Father Peter was a sophist of the first water, and a clever reasoner could have proved that his innuendos had created the imaginings in the first place. Daudet, Belot, and other leaders of the French fictional school, have at times carefully analysed those fine nuances which distinguish profligate talk from delicate suggestiveness.

Monsignor had read these works, and adapted their ideas with success. I am only five minutes behind and yet I dare not ask him for an instant's grace. You are both dressed. I suppose if I hadn't met you it would have been the Royalty front row; Fiorina, they say, has taken to forgetting her unmentionables lately.

We both denied the soft impeachment and assured him that information about Fiorina was news to us. Monsignor professed to be surprised at this, and rushed off to his dressing-room to make himself presentable. Before many minutes he rejoined us, and leading the way, we followed him into one of the most lovely bijou salons it had ever been my lot to enter. There were seats for eight at the table, four of which were occupied, and the chef, not waiting for his lord and master, had already sent up the soup, which was being handed round by a plump rose-cheeked boy about sixteen years old, who I afterwards found acted in the double capacity of page to Monsignor and chorister at St Martha of the Angels, to say nothing of a tertiary occupation which, not to put too fine a point upon it, might go excessively near to buggery without being very wide of the mark.

I was briefly introduced, and De Vaux, who knew them all, had shaken himself into his seat before I found time properly to note the appearance of my neighbours. Immediately on my left sat a complete counterpart of Monsignor himself, save that he was a much older man; his name, as casually mentioned to me, was Father Boniface, and although sparer in his proportions than Father Peter, his proclivities as a trencherman belied his meagreness.

He never missed a single course, and when anything particular tickled his gustatory sense, he had two or even more helpings.

Navigation menu

Next to him sat a little short apoplectic man, a doctor of medicine, who was more of an epicure. A sylphlike girl of sixteen occupied the next seat. Her fair hair, rather flaxen than golden-hued, hung in profusion down her back, while black lashes gave her violet eyes that shade which Greuze, the finest eye painter the world has ever seen, wept to think he could never exactly reproduce.

I was charmed with her ladylike manner, her neatness of dress, virgin white, and above all, with the modest and unpretending way she replied to the questions put to her. If ever there was a maid at sixteen under the blue vault of heaven, she sits there, was my involuntary thought, to which I nearly gave verbal expression, but was fortunately saved from such a frightful lapse by the page who, placing some appetising salmon and lobster sauce before me, dispelled for the nonce my half-visionary condition.

I must admit I didn't half like it, and began to feel a jealous pang, but the knowledge that it was only the caressing hand of a Father of the Romish Church quieted me. I was rapidly getting maudlin, and as I ate my salmon the smell of the lobster sauce suggested other thoughts till I found the tablecloth gradually rising, and I was obliged to drop my napkin on the floor to give myself the opportunity of adjusting my prick so that it would not be observed by the company.

I have omitted to mention the charmer who was placed between De Vaux and Father Peter. She was a lady of far maturer years than the sylph, and might be, as near as one could judge in the pale incandescent light which the pure filtered gas shed round with voluptuous radiance, about twenty-seven. She was a strange contrast to Lucy, for so my sylph was called.

Tall, and with a singularly clear complexion for a brunette, her bust was beautifully rounded with that fullness of contour which, just avoiding the gross, charms without disgusting. Madeline, in short, was in every inch a woman to chain a lover to her side. I had patrolled the Continent in search of goods; I had overhauled every shape and make of cunt between Constantinople and Calcutta; but as I caught the liquid expression of Madeline's large sensuous eyes, I confessed myself a fool. Here in Kensington, right under a London clubman's nose was the beau ideal had vainly travelled ten thousand miles to find.

She was sprightliness itself in conversation, and I could not sufficiently thank De Vaux for having introduced me into such an Eden. Lamb cutlets and cucumbers once more broke in upon my dream, and I was not at all sorry, for I found the violence of my thought had burst one of the buttons of my fly, a mishap I knew from past experience would be followed by the collapse of the others unless I turned my erratic brain wanderings into another channel; so I kept my eyes fixed on my plate, absolutely afraid to gaze upon these two constellations again.

They are a dangerous plant, sir, they heat the blood, and we poor churchmen, who have to chastise the lusts of the flesh, should avoid them in toto; yet I would fain have some more. I should mention that I was sitting nearly opposite Lucy, and seeing her titter at the paradoxical method the worthy Father had of assisting himself to cucumber against his own argument, I thought it a favourable opportunity to show her that I sympathised with her mirth, so, stretching out my foot, I gently pressed her toe, and to my unspeakable joy she did not take her foot away, but rather, indeed, pushed it further in my direction.

I then, on the pretence of adjusting my chair, brought it a little nearer the table, and was in ecstasies when I perceived that Lucy not only guessed what my manoeuvres meant, but actually in a very sly-puss-like way brought her chair nearer too. Then balancing my arse on the edge of my seat as far as I could without being noticed, with my prick only covered with the table napkin, for it had with one wild bound burst all the remaining buttons on my breeches, I reached forward my foot, from which I had slid off my boot with the other toe, and in less than a minute I had worked it up so that I could just feel the heat of her fanny.

I will say this for her, she tried all she could to help me, but her cursed drawers were an insuperable obstacle, and I was foiled. I knew if I proceeded another inch I should inevitably come a cropper, and this knowledge, coupled with the fact that Lucy was turning wild with excitement, now red, now white, warned me to desist for the time being. I now foresaw a rich conquest-something worth waiting for-and my blood coursed through my veins at the thought of the sweet little bower nestling within those throbbing thighs, for I could tell from the way her whole frame trembled how thoroughly mad she was at the trammels which society imposed.

Not only that, the moisture on my stocking told me that it was something more than the dampness of perspiration, and I felt half sorry to think that I had 'jewgaged' her.

Join Kobo & start eReading today

At the same time, to parody the words of the poet laureate-. Some braised ham and roast fowls now came on, and I was astonished to find a poor priest of the Church of Rome launching out in this fashion. The sauterne with the salmon had been simply excellent, and the Mumms, clear and sparkling, which accompanied the latter courses had fairly electrified me. By the way, as this little dinner party may serve as a lesson to some of those whose experience is limited, I will mention one strange circumstance which may account for much of what is to come. Monsignor, when the champagne had been poured out for the first time, before anyone had tasted it, went to a little liqueur stand, and taking from it a bottle of a most peculiar shape, added to each glass a few drops of the cordial.

It is compounded by one Italian firm only, whose ancestors, the Sagas of Venice, were the holders of the original recipe. Its properties are wondrous and manifold, but amongst others it rejuvenates senility, and those among us who have travelled up and down in the world a good deal and found the motion rather tiring as the years go on, have cause to bless its recuperative qualities.

The cunning cleric by the inflection of his voice had sufficiently indicated his meaning and although the cordial was, so far as interfering with the champagne went, apparently tasteless, its effect upon the company soon began to be noticeable. A course of ducklings, removed by Nesselrode pudding and Noyau jelly, ended the repast, and after one of the shortest graces in Latin I had ever heard in my life, the ladies curtsied themselves out of the apartment, and soon the strains of a piano indicated that they had reached the drawing-room, while we rose from the table to give the domestics an opportunity for clearing away.

My trousers were my chief thought at this moment, but I skilfully concealed the evidence of my passion with a careless pocket handkerchief, and my boot I accounted for by a casual reference to a corn of long standing. Clinton knows just as much about birching as we do ourselves. In that escritoire,' he said, 'there are sixteen octavo volumes, the compilation of laborious research, in which I have been assisted by brethren of all the holy orders affiliated to Mother Church, and I may mention in passing that worthy Dr Price here and Father Boniface have both contributed largely from their wide store of experience in correcting and annotating many of the chapters which deal with recent discoveries; for, Mr.

Clinton, flagellation as an art is not only daily gaining fresh pupils and adherents, but scarcely a month passes without some new feature being added to our already huge stock of information. I have a facsimile in volume 7, page hand it to Mr. Boniface did so, and sure enough there was the Canaanitish presentment of a young maiden with her lovely rounded arse turned up to the sky, and her hands tied to the enormous prick of the god Baal, being soundly flogged by two stout-looking men in loose but evidently priestly vestments. In the foreground you will perceive a man with a whip of knotted thongs, as much like our cat-o'-nine-tails as anything, on the point of belabouring something-and then the stone ends; in other words, where the naked-arsed Assyrian damsel would be there is nil.

Of course she has been chipped off by the authorities, seeing the scene as being likely to demoralise young children, who would begin to practise on their own posteriors, and end by fucking themselves into an early grave. Wimwam proved that the frigidity of Greenland prevented the women from procreating unless flagellation, and vigorous flagellation, too, had been previously applied. Canada, with its glorious forests of birch, was unknown.

Why, sir,' said Monsignor, turning to me, his eyes lit up with the lambent flame of enthusiasm, 'do you know the king birch of Manitoba will execute more enchantment on a girl's backside in five minutes than these old contrivances of our forefathers could have managed in half an hour?

My ringers tingle when I think of it. Show him a specimen of our latest consignment, Boniface. To tell the truth I scarcely appreciated all this, and felt a good deal more inclined to get upstairs to the drawing-room; just at this moment an incident occurred which gave me my opportunity. The bonny brunette, Madeline, looked in at the door furtively and apologised, but reminded Monsignor that he was already late for vespers. Or else your own may smart, I thought, for at this moment Father Boniface came in to ask Monsignor for another key to get the rods, as it appeared he had given him the wrong one.

Now is my time, I reflected, so making somewhat ostentatious enquiries as to the exact whereabouts of the lavatory, I quitted the apartment, promising to return in a few minutes. I should not omit to mention that from the moment I drank the sparkling cordial that Father Peter had mixed with the champagne, my spirits had received an unwonted exhilaration, which I could not ascribe to natural causes. I will not go so far as to assert that the augmentation offered which I found my prick to possess was entirely due to the Pinero Balsam, but this I will confidently maintain against all comers, that never had I felt so equal to any amorous exploit.

It may have been the effect of a generous repast, it might have been the result of the toe-frigging I had indulged in; but as I stepped into the brilliantly lighted hall, and hastily passed upstairs to the luxurious drawing-room, I could not help congratulating myself on the stubborn bar of iron which my unfortunately dismantled trousers could scarcely keep from popping out. Fearing to frighten Lucy if I entered suddenly in a state of dishabille, and feeling certain that a prick exhibition might tend to shock her inexperienced eye, I readjusted my bollocks and peeped through the crack of the drawing-room door, which had been left temptingly half open.

There was Lucy reclining on the sofa in that dolce far niente condition which is a sure sign that a good dinner has agreed with one, and that digestion is waiting upon appetite like an agreeable and good-tempered handmaid should. She looked so arch, and with such a charming pout upon her lips, that I stood there watching, half disinclined to disturb her dream.

1. Luomo che amava le isole - Luomo che era morto (Le storie) (Italian Edition);
2. Prayers to the Virgin Mary?
3. Evelyns Further Revenge - Mistress Mavis II.
4. Randiana or Excitable Tales.
5. Two Steps From Glory: A World War II Liaison Pilot Confronts Jim Crow and the Enemy in the South Pacific!
6. The Glass Hawk.
7. .

It may be, I thought, that she is given to frigging herself, and being all alone she might possibly-but I speedily banished that thought, for Lucy's clear complexion and vigorous blue eyes forbade the suggestion. At this instant something occurred which for the moment again led me to think that my frigging conjecture was about to be realised, for she reached her hand deliberately under her skirt and, lifting up her petticoats, dragged down the full length of her chemise, which she closely examined.

I divined it all at a glance: So she really is a maid after all, I thought, and as I saw a pair of shapely ladylike calves encased in lovely pearl silk stockings of a light blue colour, I could restrain myself no longer, and with a couple of bounds was at her side before she could recover herself. Clinton; how could you,' was all she found breath or thought to ejaculate.

I simply threw my arms around her and kissed her flushed face, on the cheeks, for I feared to frighten her too much at first. At last, finding she lay prone and yielding, I imprinted a kiss upon her mouth, and found it returned with ardour. Allowing my tongue gently to insinuate itself into her half-open mouth and touch hers, I immediately discovered that her excitement, as I fully expected, became doubled, and without saying a word I guided her disengaged hand to my prick, which she clutched with the tenacity of a drowning man catching at a floating spar. To say that I was in the seventh heaven of delight, as my warm fingers found a firm plump cunt with a rosebud hymen as yet unbroken, is but faintly to picture my ecstasy.

To pull her a little way further down on the couch so that her rounded arse would rise in the middle and make the business a more convenient one, was the work of a second; the next I had withdrawn my prick from her grasp and placed it against the lips of her quim, at the same time easing them back with a quick movement of my thumb and forefinger. I gave one desperate lunge, which made Lucy cry out 'Oh God,' and the joyful deed was consummated. As I have hinted before, my prick was no joke in the matter of size, and upon this occasion, so intense was the excitement that had led up to the fray, it was rather bigger than usual; but thanks to the heat the sweet virgin was in, the sperm particles of her vagina were already resolved into grease, which, mixing with the few drops of blood caused by the violent separation of the hymeneal cord, resulted in making the friction natural and painless.

Not only that, once inside I found Lucy's. Some women are framed with an orifice like an exaggerated horse collar, but with a passage more fitted for a tin whistle than a man's prick, while in others the opening itself is like the tiniest wedding ring, though if you once get inside your prick is in the same condition as the poor devil who floundered up the biggest cunt on record and found another bugger looking for his hat.

Others again-but why should I go on in this prosy fashion, when Lucy has only received half a dozen strokes, and is on the point of coming. What a delicious process we went through; even to recall it after all these years, now that Lucy is a staid matron, the wife of a church rector, and the mother of two youths verging on manhood, is bliss, and will in my most depressed moments always suffice to give me a certain and prolonged erection. The beseeching blue eyes that glanced up at Monsignor's drawing-room ceiling, as though in silent adoration and heartfelt praise at the warm stream I seemed to be spurting into her very vitals; the quick nervous shifting of her fleshy buttocks, as she strove to ease herself of her own pent-up store of liquid; and then the heartfelt sigh of joy and relief that escaped her ruby lips as I withdrew my tongue and she discharged the sang de la vie at the same moment.

Scarcely had I dismounted and reassured Lucy with a serious kiss that it was all right, and that she need not alarm herself, when Madeline came running in. Lucy,' she cried, 'such fun-' Then, seeing me, she abruptly broke off with-'I beg your pardon, Mr. Clinton, I did not see you were here. Lucy, who was now in a sitting posture, joined in the conversation, and I saw by the ease of her manner that she had entirely recovered her self-possession, and that I could rejoin the gentlemen downstairs.

It is paying us no compliment,' was Madeline's parting shot. In another moment I was in my seat again, and prepared for a resumption of Monsignor's lecture on birch rods. My answer made them all laugh, for they thought I referred to the water closet, whereas I was of course alluding to Lucy, and I knew I was stating a truism in that case as regarded De Vaux, for he was scarcely yet convalescent from a bad attack of Spanish glanders, which was always his happy method of expressing the clap.

Clinton, I wish you particularly to observe the tough fibre of these rods,' said Monsignor Peter, as he handed me a bundle so perfectly and symmetrically arranged that I could not help remarking on it. So large a trade is being done, sir, in specially picked birch of the flagellating kind, that they are hand-sorted by children and put up in bundles by machinery, as they appear here, and my own impression is that if the Canadian Government were to impose an extra duty on these articles, for they almost come under the heading of manufactures and not produce, a large revenue would accrue; but enough of this,' said the reverend gentleman, seeing his audience was becoming somewhat impatient.

I reflected for a moment to throw them off their guard, and then said, suddenly, 'Oh, yes, the sweet thing in white. A few strokes well administered, and a quick fuck after to determine my work on corpuscular action of the blood particles; tomorrow she will be in better form to receive second-stage instruction, and we hope by the end of the month-'. Boniface, put that bundle in the birch box and bring it upstairs.

So saying, the chief exponent of flagellation in the known world led the way upstairs to the drawing-room, and we followed, though I must confess that in my case it was with no slight trepidation, for I felt somehow as though I were about to assist at a sacrifice. As we entered the room we found Lucy in tears, and Madeline consoling her, but she no sooner saw us than, breaking from her friend, she threw herself at Monsignor's feet, and clinging to his knees, sobbed out-. Time and pain are no object to them, so that the end be accomplished.

Lucy's eyes here caught mine, and although I strove to reassure her with a look that plainly intimated no harm should come to her, she was some time before she at last put her hand in the cleric's and said-. Clinton, if I have to indulge in a slight coarseness of language, but time presses, and plain Saxon is the quickest method of expression. Personally, I do not feel inclined to fuck Lucy myself, as the fact is I had connection with her mother the night previous to her marriage, and as Lucy was born exactly nine months afterwards, I am rather in doubt as to the paternity.

Boniface, here, prefers boys to women, and Dr Price will be too busy taking notes, so that it rests between you and De Vaux, who had better toss up. De Vaux, who was stark mad to think that his little gonorrhoeal disturbance was an insuperable obstacle, pleaded an engagement later on, which he was bound to fulfil, and therefore Monsignor Peter told me to be sure to be ready the instant I was wanted.

Madeline entered at this moment and informed us that all was ready, but gave us to understand that she had experienced the greatest difficulty in overcoming poor Lucy's natural scruples at being exposed in all her virgin nakedness to the gaze of so many of the male sex. Clinton, I don't think I should have minded quite so much.

Clinton who will have to relieve her at the finish. With these words we proceeded to the birching-room, which it appears had been furnished by these professors of flagellation with a nicety of detail and an eye to everything accessory to the art that was calculated to inspire a neophyte like myself with the utmost astonishment.

On a framework of green velvet was a soft down bed, and reclined on this length was the blushing Lucy. Large bands of velvet, securely buckled at the sides, held her in position, while her legs, brought well together and fastened in the same way, slightly elevated her soft shapely arse. The elevation was further aided by an extra cushion, which had been judiciously placed under the lower portion of her belly. Monsignor bent over her and whispered a few soothing words into her ear, but she only buried her delicate head deeper into the down of the bed, while the reverend Father proceeded to analyse the points of her arse.

Having all of them felt her arse in turn, pinching it as though to test its condition, much as a connoisseur in horseflesh would walk around an animal he was about to buy, Monsignor at length said-. To witness this was unutterably maddening. I scarcely knew what to be at; my heart beat wildly, and I should then and there have put myself into Lucy had I not been restrained by Father Boniface who, arch-vagabond that he was, took the whole business as a matter of course and merely observed to Monsignor that it would be as well to get it over as soon as possible, since Mr.

Clinton was in a devil of a hurry. Poor Lucy was deriving some consolation from Dr Price in the shape of a few drops of Pinero Balsam in champagne, while as for De Vaux, he was groaning audibly, and when the worthy Father Peter came to the short strokes De Vaux's chordee became so unbearable that he ran violently out into Monsignor's bedroom, as he afterwards informed me, to bathe his balls in ice water.

To me there was something rather low and shocking in a fuck before witnesses, but that is a squeamishness that I have long since got the better of. Madeline, having wiped Monsignor's prick with a piece of mousseline de laine, a secret known only to the sybarite in love's perfect secrets, retired, presumably to syringe her fanny, and Monsignor buttoned up and approached his self-imposed task.

Taking off his coat he turned up his short cuffs and, Boniface handing him the birch rods, the bum-warming began. At the first keen swish poor Lucy shrieked out, but before half a dozen had descended with a quick smacking sound which betokens that there is no lack of elbow grease in the application, her groans subsided, and she spoke in a quick strained voice, begging for mercy.

By this time her lovely arse had assumed a flushed, vermilion tinge, which appeared to darken with every stroke, and at this point Dr Price interposed. Clinton, if you are mere, pray relieve me, and make haste. In an instant my trousers were down, the straps were unbuckled, and Lucy was gently turned over on her back. I saw a delicate bush of curly hair, a pair of glorious thighs, and the sight impelled me to thrust my prick into that divine Eden I had visited but a short time before with an ardour that for a man who had lived a fairly knockabout life was inexplicable.

I had scarcely got it thoroughly planted, and had certainly not made a dozen well-sustained though rapid strokes, before the gush of sperm which she emitted drew me at the same instant, and I must own that I actually thought the end of the world had come. Here is a maid who has never known a man and she spends within ten seconds of the entrance being effected. Do you suppose that without the birching she could have performed such a miracle?

Randiana, or Excitable Tales of the - Anonymous - Google Книги

Nothing flabbergasts him like facts. Dear me, how damnation slangy I am getting tonight. Lucy, dear, don't stand shivering mere, slip on your things and join Madeline in my snuggery; we shall all be mere presently. In the first place Lucy was not a maid. Clinton was intimate with you in our presence just now, had you ever before had a similar experience? I refused the money of course, but had the laugh on all of them, and as we rolled home to De Vaux's chambers in a hansom about an hour later I could not help admitting to him that I considered the evening we had passed through the most agreeable I had ever known.

Having become a frequent visitor at The Priory, the name Monsignor's hospitable mansion was generally known by, I had numberless opportunities for fucking Lucy, Madeline and two of the domestics, but somehow I never properly took to flagellation in its true sense. There was a housemaid of Monsignor's, a pretty and intelligent girl called Martha, the sight of whose large, fleshy bum, with an outline which would have crushed Hogarth's line of beauty out of time, used to excite me beyond measure, but I was not an enthusiast, and when Monsignor recognised this, and found that as a birch performer I laid it on far too sparingly, his invitations were less pressing, and gradually my visits became few and far between.

De Vaux, on the other hand, had become a qualified practitioner, and would dilate for hours on the celestial pleasures to be derived from skilful bum-scoring, in fact, so perfect a disciple of Monsignor's did he get to be that the pupil in some peculiar phases has outstripped the master, and his work now in the press, entitled The Glory of the Birch, or Heaven on Earth, may fairly claim, from an original point of view, to be catalogued with the more abstruse volumes penned by the Fathers, and collated and enlarged by Messrs Peter, Price and Boniface upon the same subject.

As I stated before, I could not enter so thoroughly into the felicity of birching. I saw that, physically speaking, it was productive of forced emission, but I preferred cunt moreau naturel. The easy transition from a kiss to a feel, from a feel to a finger frig, and eventually by a more natural sequence to a gentle insertion of the jock, were a series of gradations more suited to my unimaginative temperament, and I, therefore, to quote the regretful valediction of De Vaux, relapsed into that condition of Paphian barbarism in which he found me. But I was by no means idle. In the next suite of chambers to mine lived a young barrister, Sydney Mitchell, a daredevil dog, and one whose penchant for the fair sex was only equalled by his impecuniosity, for he was one of that many-headed legion who are known as briefless.

I had occasionally, when he had been pounced upon by a bailiff, which occurred on an average of about once a month, rescued him by a small advance, which he had gratefully repaid by keeping me company in my lonely rooms, drinking my claret and smoking my best Havanas. But this was to me sufficient repayment, for Sydney had an inexhaustible store of comic anecdotes, and his smartly told stories were always so happily related that they never offended the ear, while they did not fail to tickle the erective organs.

1. Marc Aurèle ou La fin du monde antique (French Edition);
2. .
3. Randiana or Excitable Tales | www.newyorkethnicfood.com?
4. Randiana, or Excitable Tales - Wikipedia!
5. ;

I was at my Buffalo lodge last night, got drunk, and invited about half a dozen fellows to my chambers this evening to dinner. I ordered a slap-up dinner for eight from the neighbouring restaurant, and as my 'Inn dinners' were well known by repute, not one of the invites was missing. We had a capital dinner, and as Sydney's companions were a jolly set, I made up my mind for a glorious evening. Little did I know then how much more glorious it was to wind up than ever I had anticipated. When the cigars and the port came on, and the meeting was beginning to assume a rather uproarious character, Sydney proposed that his friend Wheeler should oblige with a song, and after that gentleman had enquired whether my fastidiousness would be shocked at anything ultra drawing-room, and had been assured that nothing would give me greater pleasure, he began in a rich clear voice the following:.

And then came the chorus, rolled out by the whole company, for the refrain was so catching that I found myself unconsciously joining in with-. The singing of this song, which I was assured was quite original, was greeted with loud plaudits, then one of the young gentlemen volunteered a recitation, which ran as follows:.

Monsignor Peter had, after an infinite amount of persuasion, given me the address where Pinero Balsam was to be obtained, and I had laid in a decent stock of it, for though each small bottle cost a sovereign, I felt. Some of this I had secretly dropped into the port wine, and the effect upon my guests had already become very pronounced.

Have you anything in the shape of petticoats about half so good? If so, give me a look in. The Amatory Experiences of a Surgeon. The Fudge Cookbook - Recipes. The Book of Mormon. Chameleon in a Candy Store. A Stately English Mansion. The Amazing Chastisement of Miss Bostock. From The Mahabharata Mobi Classics. The Slow Cooker Cookbook - Recipes. The Exploits of a Young Don Juan. The Book of Enoch. The Upanishads Rediscovered Books.

Painter And His Girl. Three Chapters in the Life of Mr. The Chickpeas Cookbook - Recipes. The Romance of Lust. The Blueberry Cookbook - Recipes. The Curry Cookbook - Recipes. Beauty and the Beast. Marie Le Prince de Beaumont. The Waffle Cookbook - 85 Recipes. Harvard Classics Volume The Pork Cookbook - Recipes. Meditations on the Tarot. The Ultimate Camping Recipes Cookbook. Story of Her Life and Reign Birch in the Boudoir. The Nihon Shoki Nihongi: The Chronicles of Japan.

The Fish Cookbook - Recipes. Step 2 AA Coming to Believe. Step 12 AA Carrying the Message. The Chicken Wing Cookbook - 64 Recipes. The Romance of Lust. The Blueberry Cookbook - Recipes. The Curry Cookbook - Recipes. Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont. The Waffle Cookbook - 85 Recipes. The Pork Cookbook - Recipes. Meditations on the Tarot. Queen Victoria - Her Life and Reign. Birch In The Boudoir. The Nihon Shoki Nihongi: The Chronicles of Japan.

The Fish Cookbook - Recipes. The Chicken Wing Cookbook - 64 Recipes. The Eye of the Moon. The Artichoke Cookbook - Recipes. The Spinach Cookbook - Recipes. The Cranberry Cookbook - Recipes. The Epic Of Gilgamesh. A Night in a Moorish Harem. The Sauce Cookbook - Recipes. The Book With No Name 2. The New Ladies Tickler. How to write a great review. The review must be at least 50 characters long. The title should be at least 4 characters long. Your display name should be at least 2 characters long. At Kobo, we try to ensure that published reviews do not contain rude or profane language, spoilers, or any of our reviewer's personal information.

You submitted the following rating and review.