Venus in India. Charles Devereaux
closes the bent leg towards that one outstretched! It is her most sensitive clitoris, as I live! See! It grows more and more! and by the gods! it actually moves in little jerks, just like an excited prick standing stiff and mad at the thoughts of hot desire!
I gazed at the tranquil face of the sleeping beauty; her lips moved and her mouth opened slightly showing the pearly teeth! Her bosom seemed to expand, her breasts to swell: they rose and fell more rapidly than they had been doing before this evident dream of love, fulfilled or about to be, invaded the soft heart of this perfect priestess of Venus! Ah! her bubbies do move! Their rosebuds swell out, they stand, each like an eager sentinel perched on the snowy tip of his own mountain, watching for the loving foe who is to invade this dreaming girl in a soft and sharp and hot encounter.
Again those thighs close on one another. Heavens! again they open to show the domain of love, excited, moving, leaping, actually leaping! That glittering ruby clitoris is evidently striving to feel the manly prick of which my charmer dreams. Why not turn the dream into a sweet and luscious reality?
I do not hesitate. I swiftly strip and in a moment I am as naked as I had been that morning, but I would like to see whether, as when I raped my cousin Emily, my second love, I could actually get into this sleeping girl before she woke to find me in her glowing cunt.
So I gently got over the thigh next to me and, with knees between hers, supported myself upon my hands, one on each side of her, while, stretching out my legs backward, I kept my eyes fixed on the sweet and burning cunnie I intended to invade. I lowered my body until I brought the head and point of my agitated and jerking prick exactly opposite its lower half, and then I manoeuvred it in!
Gods! The voluptuousness of that moment! I could see myself penetrating that seat of love and luxury! I could feel the cap fall back from the tingling head of my prick and fold behind its broad purple shoulders! For a moment I glanced at her face to see if she had perceived the gallant theft I was making of her secret jewel! No! She was asleep, but in the excitement of an erotic dream! Little by little I pressed in further and further, only withdrawing to give her more pleasure. I am nearly all in — her thick and lofty bush hides the last inch or so of my prick from my eyes, our hairs commingle, my balls nudge her and she wakes with a start!
In a moment her eyes met mine with that keen, almost wild glance, which had so impressed me when I saw her out of the gharry, but in a moment they changed and beamed with pleasure and affectionate caresses.
‘Ah! Is it you?’ she cried. ‘I was dreaming of you! You darling man to wake me so sweetly!’
Some burning kisses, some close, close hugs, some little exclamations of delight, and then breast to breast, belly to belly, mouth to mouth, we play for the ninth or tenth time, I really don’t know which, that same excited tune which had sounded all that morning so melodiously to our ravished senses. Heel and toe, as she called it, and other delicious movements mingled every part, then hot, quick, thrilling short digs and the torrents of two volcanoes of love burst forth simultaneously and mingled their lava floods in the hot recesses buried below the sylvan slopes of the hill of Venus.
The ghurry or gong, on which the non-commissioned officers of the guard sound the hour of the day in India, rang five o’clock. We had been in intense action nearly a whole hour, and my charming beauty was for the fifteenth time examining what she called my ‘wonderful’ prick and balls — wonderful, because the first showed no symptoms of fatigue, and the second no sign of exhaustion or depletion.
‘I don’t believe this can be a proper prick at all!’ said she feeling it, pressing it, and kissing its impudent-looking head, first on one side and then on the other.
‘Why?’ I asked laughing.
‘Because it’s always stiff as a poker — always standing!’
‘That is because it admires your delicious cunt so much, my darling, and it is always in a hurry to get back into it after it has been taken out!’
‘Well! I never saw one like it before! All other men that I have had always grew soft and limp after the second go if not the first — and generally took a good deal of coaxing to get to stand again, unless one gave them lots of time! But yours! I never, never, met one like it! It will give me a lot of trouble, I can see, to take all the starch out of it!’
‘Oh! but I can assure you, my most lovely girl, that with ordinary women I am just as you describe the men you have known. I can assure you it must be your extraordinary beauty which has such a powerful effect upon me! Come!’ I continued, opening my arms and thighs, ‘Come and lie on top of me and let me kiss you to death!’
Enraptured by the lavish, but not unmerited, praise of her beauty, she threw herself, with a cry of delight, on top of me, and my prick found a sweet resting place between our respective bellies. She took and gave me the sweetest kisses, murmuring little words of love and passion like a cat purring, until I was just going to propose that she should put her thighs outside mine, and let me have her à la St George, when a sudden idea seemed to strike her. She raised herself on her hand and asked me: ‘I say! Have you reported your arrival to the station staff officer?’
What an idea! Fancy talking of such commonplace things just as I was about to propose the most delicious thing a woman can have from a man, the very poetry of life and love! I could not but think of Mrs Shandy asking her husband, when he was in the middle of that operation which resulted in Tristram nine months later, whether he had wound up the clock.
‘My dear girl!’ I cried. ‘Bother the station staff officer and all his reports. Come! I am hungry for another sweet go! I want this cunt!’ and I slipped my hand under her belly and between her thighs, and my middle finger into her palpitating cunnie.
‘No!’ she said, forcefully pushing my invading hand away. ‘No! Not one more fuck until you have gone and reported yourself! Ah! you don’t know the regulations, I see! But I do! I have not been in India all these years without learning what they are, and Major Searle, the brigade major here, is a perfect beast and devil! You may depend upon it, he knows you are here, and he would be only too delighted to get a chance of sitting on you, and he will be able to do so if you don’t report yourself before dark. Remember you got here early this morning!’
I tried to convince her that I did not care a fig for Major Searle and all the Bengal regulations to boot! I said I was on duty, the post of honour being between her lovely thighs and my Johnnie anxious to go his rounds of her darling cunnie, and I did not think I could properly quit my duty in her body to go and perform another which would do quite well enough tomorrow, by which time, in all probability, Johnnie would have come off guard and would require a rest from his labours! But it was of no use; she declared I did not know my man, she told me a great deal more, from which it was very plain that something unpleasant had occurred between herself and Major Searle, and that it really did matter very much, to herself if not to me, that I should report my arrival, and do so at once.
Never did man more unwillingly do anything than I did, when, in obedience to my lovely tyrant’s commands, I dressed and walked out to find the house of the brigade major. I know other men will not believe me or give me credit when I say that I felt as if I had not had one single fuck since I left England. That my balls and groin ached and I had all the sensations of a man who is soon about to have the fuck he has most looked forward to, for which he has lived chastely and kept himself in reserve in order to enjoy more that for which he burns, I can only state as a fact, and let others believe or not as they like. Certain it is, that there are times when either from length of abstinence, or the way in which a woman affects him, a man exhibits far greater power in the fields of Venus than at other times. Let me imitate Théophile Gautier, and request my readers, male and female, to remember that special time, when the former had that splendid night, and the latter had the active, big, strong lover, the best of all she ever had as far as fucking goes.
In this state I walked over to the bungalow which was pointed out to me as that of the brigade major. I was so far fortunate that I met him just as he was going out for a walk before dinner with his smooth English terrier.
‘May I ask whether you are Major Searle, the brigade major, sir?’