EVELINE E-Book

anonymous

• Herausgeber: Lebooks Editora
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 442

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Eveline, The Amorous Adventures of a Victorian Lady is a classic erotic novel, probably published in the mid-19th century. Like most erotic texts from that period, the novel was published anonymously due to the moralism in force. The central character Eveline is what few Victorian women could dream of being, she is totally "free"; free of body, free of mind, and free to enjoy all the flavors of pleasure. Eveline has intimate relationships with all those she is attracted to and then replaces them with others. No one possesses Eveline, she possesses them for her own purposes, the main one being to extract maximum pleasure. Eveline is also free because she is sterile. She has a condition that prevents her from conceiving, which frees her from the constraints of motherhood, making her much more like the women of today than those of her time. Eveline is happy with this condition, keeps it a secret and continues to play the role of good wife to her husband, whom she married for convenience. At the same time, she has fun with butlers, waiters, coachmen, piano teachers, policemen, chauffeurs and anyone else who strikes her fancy.

Leseprobe

Anonymous author

EVELINE:

The Amorous Adventures of Victorian Lady

Summary

PRESENTATION

EVELINE

BOOK I

BOOK II

BOOK III

PRESENTATION

"Eveline, The Amorous Adventures of a Victorian Lady" is a classic erotic novel, probably published in the mid-19th century. Like most erotic texts from that period, the novel was published anonymously due to the moralism in force.

The central character Eveline is what few Victorian women could dream of being, she is totally "free"; free of body, free of mind, and free to enjoy all the flavors of pleasure. Eveline has intimate relationships with all those she is attracted to and then replaces them with others. No one possesses Eveline, she possesses them for her own purposes, the main one being to extract maximum pleasure.

Eveline is also free because she is sterile. She has a condition that prevents her from conceiving, which frees her from the constraints of motherhood, making her much more like the women of today than those of her time. Eveline is happy with this condition, keeps it a secret and continues to play the role of good wife to her husband, whom she married for convenience. At the same time, she has fun with butlers, waiters, coachmen, piano teachers, policemen, chauffeurs and anyone else who strikes her fancy.

Narrated in the first person, "Eveline, The Amorous Adventures of a Victorian Lady" is a delicious and exciting Erotic Romance and is part of the Erotic Classics Collection by LeBooks Editora.

Author's preface

Among the erotic stories that flooded the period between 1790 and 1810, published mainly in the form and illiterate style of cordel books, pamphlets garnished with poorly colored covers and embellished with pompous titles, marketed by street vendors who were called "cordelistas", there were one or two that, regardless of the source from which they emanated, claimed a literary merit not entirely lost on a good connoisseur.

As far as I can remember, there were still many of these weak publications, always bought, originally sub rosa from the enterprising col porteur and, in my experience, as curiosities, from booksellers who dared to take a serious risk with their business.

These money-grabbing antics included: The Amatory Adventures of a Lady's Maid, The Footman, The Adventures of a Quaker and The Modem Eveline. It is to the last one that I would draw readers' attention. I only know of one bibliographical reference to this remarkable work, and the original text is absolutely lost to the bibliophile, but I am aware that there are at least two recognized copies, catalogued and preserved in the private library of the British Museum.

As for the book itself, it has always been a puzzle for the bibliophile of the last generation. In its composition and style, although there is evidence of the author's great literary ability, it is superficial, written in short, dry sentences and unsatisfactory in terms of the development of the story. The original was interrupted by long lines of asterisks, with no explanation or attempt to finish, which causes the average reader to give up. It seems to have failed in its intention to present the heroine as the original author created her.

Behind all this are two hypotheses which, in my opinion, we can choose between. Either the author, whoever he was, obviously a very talented writer, was content to write for his own satisfaction and subsequently presented the manuscript to an editor with certain parts expurgated, or the original editor, imbued with the ignorance and rapacity of the period in these matters, cut out everything that didn't correspond to the common taste of his time. In any case, I have never seen or heard of any other edition of Eveline apart from the mutilated version I'm mentioning, and I personally knew the editor who produced the only edition in existence and preserved, as has already been said, in the secret library of the British Museum.

Eveline was described as a vulgar nymphomaniac who recounted her sexual adventures. From her father's side, the character inherited a lack of moral perception related to the sexual instinct. This doesn't stop her from having great intelligence and a quick intuition. She sees her opportunities with her own flawed appreciation of normal life and seizes them voraciously as she pleases.

What simple nymphomaniac could all this be? In the whole of modern London society, I have met at least twenty women who could emulate her vices, but not her audacity, her surprising resources or her intuitive perception and ingenuity.

Many years ago, I was amazed by the unusual quality of the original and took on the task of filling in, as much as possible, the numerous omissions marked by half-pages of asterisks throughout the book, following what seemed to me to be the author's intention, to transform the story into a succinct narration. Unfortunately, my editor, in a sudden fit of madness, sold the copy I had worked on to a passing stranger. However, I kept my extracts and notes which allowed me to remember the general content of the story, and it is as such that I present it.

And this is the story of the work that I thought would be so worth perpetuating that I've included as much of the original as my memory and notes would allow, to the delight of the curious. If I have strayed from the original, only the authorities who guard the only existing copies will be able to correct me.

I wanted to adapt the theme to the present time, not only because of the difficulties in filling in the story's omissions in the original style appropriate to the period in which the author wrote, but because, whatever the condition of society when Eveline first found her way into the editor's hands, probably at the time of George III, it could hardly have been published in a period of social corruption more aptly illustrative of its meretricious incidents than the present.

In conclusion, although I have fulfilled my original intention of filling in the missing parts, the additions are in no way intended to subvert or alter the main incidents. In revising this book and saving the work from deformity, I have tried to insert only material that serves to make the story succinct and to develop the heroine's character as the author wanted to describe it.

I have followed the original literary style to the letter and now present this revised edition of an old and very unique work in this genre of literature.

G.M.S.F.

EVELINE

BOOK I

Chapter I

I am considered a model of decorum by all those who have the honor of knowing me. I'm held up by anxious mothers as an excellent example of careful upbringing, combined with the advantages of a continental training course at an extremely select boarding school for girls on the outskirts of Paris. I'm the guest of old and very strict spinsters, because I pretend to be part of their schemes for converting terrible savages, I'm generous with my money and reticent with my tongue. This last quality runs in the family. Our story demands an enormous amount of discretion. And it's good that it's treated that way. There are at least two families with great and ancient aristocratic pretensions whose long-tongued, drinking and gambling male descendants boast that they have never let a maiden of their noble line pass, as such, out of the family and into the arms of her husband. Ours is a third, only we're not so simple-minded as to advertise the fact.

I am by no means a saint on the outside. In my appearance and habits, I'm not as puritanical as I'm portrayed. I don't live my daily life with any particular formality. I'm just discreet, observant, always affable, friendly and sometimes a little volatile. Men think I'm dull and say, "A pretty girl, but you know, my dear boy, she's no fun. There's no point in trying, my dear fellow, you won't have any luck."

"Fun", in the mind of today's society man, means immoral. They adopt the word because it's a light and cheerful style of describing the libertine conditions that bring together everything that interests them in the nature of modern society. At present, society is content to show off with a superficial and very fragile disguise over its naked deformity. In a few years' time, and at the current level of progress, it will operate with its face uncovered in broad daylight.

I'm not going to moralize; I don't even want to be a self-appointed censor of the times in which I live. Personally, I don't care at all what society becomes, as long as I can avoid the arrows of detraction, mockery and contempt that it launches at any unlucky person who has the misfortune to be discovered. I think that's unlikely to happen in my case; in any case, I take every possible precaution to follow my discreet path of sensual indulgence in obscurity and in peace.

My father, Sir Edward L..., a baronet, started life as a rich man — rich even in those days of billionaires, American heiresses and other innovations too numerous to mention. He enlisted in the army, served with his regiment in India, and, on returning to that empire after a short leave, met and married an insignificant little woman with whom he was locked up for a month or more during the outward journey. She was beautiful, tall and coarse. He soon tired of her. After taking her with the regiment for about three months, he sent her home to England. I don't think I inherited a single trait of my mother's personality, and I'm glad to think it. She never liked me, nor was she particularly interested in me. I have two older brothers. The eldest, perhaps I'll talk about him later, I hardly got to know him during my childhood. As for Percy, we were mates until I was sent to school and he was sent to Rugby. He was fifteen and I was thirteen when those important events took place.

I suppose that, as a child, I was always curious and inquisitive. That's what I was told. Personally, I only remember a few prominent events from my early years. I didn't have a happy childhood, not even a happy one. My brother and I were always together. He was curious too. Together, we secretly investigated the remarkable differences in our physiological structure.

We came to the natural conclusion that those opposing developments must have been intended for some purpose that we didn't know about at the time. As we were denied the tree of knowledge, we decided to do our own research. The result was that we discovered a certain undefined satisfaction, even when we were each at one end of a large marble bathtub and our toes encountered certain exposed parts of each other's bodies, which we were told on every occasion to hide and never to talk about. Also in secret, we inspected each other's remarkably different developments; it was a new field of research and, imperceptibly, we liked it. We continued our studies with as many breaks as our privacy and opportunities allowed. We slept in the same room, and would sneak into each other's beds to whisper and marvel at the delight we got from touching and caressing those differences. In short, we masturbated each other, until my brother Percy, at the age of fifteen, achieved a precocious development of his private parts sufficient to destroy all traces of virginity in his young sister, two years younger than him.

At that age, as I've already mentioned, we were separated. Two years at a school exclusively for "gentlemen's daughters" didn't eradicate physiology lessons. I had already learned and listened while my companions compared notes, and I discovered that most of the girls were equally well-informed.

In fact, one or two of the older "gentlemen's daughters" instructed the first-years, while we listened to the absorbing topic with avid attention, what a naked man looked like, with curly hair on his belly and something hanging between his legs that they described as being twice the size of my brother Percy. They went further, and one said she had seen and touched one. They would get very hard and stand up, and in this state the men would try to shove them into the girls.

I listened and said nothing, and to my distress they called me silly and innocent. Even at that early age, I had internalized the instinct for reticence, so generally absent in young women.

Two years of studying all the conventional and impractical subjects that "gentlemen's daughters" are subjected to in these establishments at my age, gave me ample opportunity to obtain the rudiments of a society education. I don't know how much longer I would have stayed at Brighton College, but a calamitous accident put an end to my career there, as well as that of the "select establishment" itself.

Here's how it happened. Among the servants was a servant, who had started working there when he was a small boy. As he was a very quiet and well-behaved boy, he stayed for a long time and actually reached puberty in the house. No one seemed to notice the change. The boy waited tables in a beautiful uniform of claret-colored cloth, and did other useful things, very freely, in the compound. However, one of the older girls, whose inquisitive genius had discovered the interesting fact that he had hair on his belly and something that stood up, tried to secretly take advantage of this discovery and persuaded him to put it inside her on more than one occasion, with the result that she was found to be pregnant. The fact could not be concealed; the Brighton press kept talking about it and the "select establishment" closed forever.

At the time, my father was doing his military service in India. For convenience, although he was a relatively young man and always active, he had risen to command the regiment. I wasn't allowed to stay at home. My request for a governess was peremptorily refused; my mother couldn't stand my presence. I was sent to a boarding house for demoiselles near Paris, an establishment that had been specially recommended by the aristocratic mother of two promising and "honorable" members of a noble house.

It was here that I was destined to be initiated into the most practical knowledge of humanity, in terms of its sexual instincts and aptitudes. The house was large and had grounds all around, with a small garden in front that extended to the janitor's house and the large iron gates that closed the establishment, separating it from the public road. The house was occupied by a singular individual, a hunchback, who had been working as a porter for some years. He was about forty-five years old and about one meter thirty tall with his boots on. The hunchback was enough of a deformity, but his awkward ugliness, long hair and huge hands and feet really added to his strange appearance. However, despite all this, his face was not repulsive and his manners the opposite of brutality. He was considered a perfectly harmless unfortunate, had an excellent character and the full confidence of Madame St. C., the owner and director of the boarding house.

When I became acquainted with my classmates, I learned that they were just as knowledgeable about natural phenomena as my old friends from Brighton, and in fact more than one of the French girls had no qualms about boasting about their exploits. One in particular spoke openly of knowing a certain playmate of the opposite sex who had obtained favors from her that are only allowed to lovers. The janitor managed to increase his small income through the harmless privilege of selling sweets, chocolates, etc. to the schoolgirls. During playtime, the girls would return from their little den by the gate with flushed cheeks and mouths full of sweets.

I never had the children's weakness for sweets. I just didn't like it. The janitor and I remained strangers for a considerable period of time after my arrival. I often noticed that the man took great pains to greet me as I passed. He would toast me with all the niceties that were decorous and delicate. The girls would talk about the little tasks he was asked to do for them. I soon realized that he was considered a kind of safe intermediary between the outside world and the older girls.

When I crossed from Denver to Calais, heading for Paris in the care of a governess who was taking the English students, I sat next to two gentlemen who were talking about Voltaire and his works. I had the natural curiosity of a child, and I listened. They mentioned the writer's allusions to Charlemagne. One exclaimed how he recognized the biting sarcasm of his style. He quoted the account of the great king's private vices. The other mentioned Addison to show how little interest the great Frenchman had in virtue itself. It was a beautiful debate. They raised their voices. I took notes and became determined to read Voltaire and judge for myself. I didn't want bonbons, I wanted Voltaire.

One afternoon, I walked through the door of the caretaker's house. It wasn't closed. The janitor had an inner room. The front room and the back room were separated by a curtain. I had seen one of the older girls, about sixteen, enter a few minutes earlier. I went in after her. As everything was silent, I peeked through a corner of the heavy curtain. The hunchback was standing sideways to me, leaning slightly towards the curtain. She was sitting in a large chair opposite him. Her clothes were disheveled and her legs and white belly were bare. The man's big paw was between her thighs. He was groping her pretty pussy.

What surprised me most was that, in front of him, there was a huge, naked phallus. It was twice the size of Percy's. It was very straight and hard. The girl was sucking on the big lead-colored shaft, which was moving in and out of her mouth. He wiggled back and forth, so that sometimes the shaft was almost all the way in. Then he thrust himself forward and it stuck all the way between the girl's lips. Her little hands were clenched around his long cock. She tilted her head forward with little jerks in line with his movements. They were both too busy to think about the curtain. They thought they were safe. He had his eyes half-closed. There was an expression of satanic pleasure on his face. His lips were parted. He was breathing with loud, wheezing sobs. A box of chocolates lay on the table.

There are some futile things you hear when you're young that leave a long-lasting impression. You don't forget them for a lifetime. So had the Brighton girl's description: "A man with curly belly hair and a cock twice the size of my brother Henry's, who got hard and stood up." There was one, at last. Exactly as the girl from Brighton had told us.

I stood still and watched. They were only about three meters away from me. They had no idea I was there. He was panting and the pretty girl seemed to be enjoying the touches of the paw that moved like a crab between her thighs. At that moment, she stopped. She moved away from the shiny, steaming phallus in front of her young face. He said something I didn't understand. The hunchback's phallus was about twenty-two centimeters long and very thick; the girl could hardly hold it in her delicate hands. He pushed it towards her lips again and pointed at the packet of sweets. She once again received that terrible phallus in her small mouth. He continued to touch her. He put his right hand on the back of her head and pulled her towards him. The entire glans was now covered by the girl's wet lips. Suddenly, he let go of her hands and squeezed the instrument between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled her head forward with one hand and held it. He moved forward. The girl tried to free herself. She struggled in vain. The man's cock was firmly in her mouth. He started panting and tapping his feet on the tiled floor. The pretty girl choked and struggled. Gradually, he stopped all his movements. He seemed ready to release her. He slowly withdrew his phallus, which now hung like a dead flower. A white liquid was dripping from it. The girl started spitting and coughing. I thought she was going to throw up. I turned around, sneaked out and ran home.

That night, I dreamt of a man's belly covered in hair and a long, thick phallus hanging between his legs that could get hard occasionally, twice the size of my brother Percy.

Chapter 2

Three days later there was a big party. Most of the girls went off to the Bois de Boulogne with their governesses. I claimed I had a headache and stayed in the boarding house. In the afternoon, I went to the janitor's house. The janitor had a window facing the avenue that led to the boarding house. He noticed me approaching and was already at the door.

He asked me why I hadn't gone with the others. Then he asked me if I liked bonbons. He commented that I had never gone to him to get them.

 — I don't like sweets. But you could do me a small favor. I want a book to read. Do you think you can?

An evil expression flashed across his face.

 — One with pictures, mademoiselle, one of those elegant little books about the amorous fantasies of young ladies and gentlemen?

I laughed and told him I wanted Voltaire. He promised to try and get me a copy. I'd look for it. I asked him if I wanted to come in so he could write down the title? He looked up and down the boulevard and then entered the house ahead of me. On a table was his stock of sweets.

 — It's a shame you don't like sweets.

 — Does little Belvaux like sweets? She gave me some yesterday. She must be a good customer. Does she always visit you to get sweets?

I laughed again. The little man laughed too. He seemed a little unsure. Then his face lit up. He saw that I knew more than I wanted to say. There were certainly confidences between the boarders, so I obviously had some knowledge of what was going on there.

He offered me a chair. He leaned over me as I sat down and wrote the word "Voltaire". I felt his warm breath on my neck. The situation was new. I was possessed by a strange excitement. He took the pen from my hand. As he did so, he took my wrist and squeezed it.

 — What will you give me if I get the book?

 — Whatever you want, if you don't get found out.

 — All right, come here, mademoiselle. Mademoiselle is the prettiest girl in the boarding house. I'd do anything for her without asking for anything in return. Why are you laughing?

 — Yeah, well, almost for nothing. Anyway, for something the girl would like.

He went forward into the inner room; the window facing the house was covered with a muslin curtain. He closed the curtain. I had seen him close the street door. At the back of the house, there was another door leading into the bushes. He stopped in front of me. He grabbed me around the waist. Encouraged by my submission, he pulled me towards him. He pressed his deformed body against mine. He almost cut off my breath.

 — How sweet! What a beauty! Don't be afraid. You'll know everything... you'll see everything. Look at this!

He quickly unzipped his pants. I was terribly afraid that we would be interrupted.

 — Don't be afraid. There's no chance of anyone bothering us. Here, my little divine beauty! Give me your beautiful hand.

He squeezed her. He led her to his person. He placed her on top of a monstrous phallus, half swollen with desire. The phallus swayed in my immodest grip. My fingers touched it and squeezed it. It was my initiation into a man's parts. He uncovered his belly and completely exposed everything. It was covered in short, curly, dark hairs. The phallus pulsed and grew in my hand.

 — Rub it like this... like this... it's wonderful! Oh! Fantastic! How good you do, mademoiselle.

The phallus swelled and hardened until it was more than half the length of his thick thighs. The red and blue glans looked like a shiny, ripe plum.

 — You like that, ma belle — Yes, I do... are you absolutely sure we're safe?

 — Quite safe... come on, ma petite belle, now I'm going to touch you too.

I continued my gentle rubbing, all the while staring at the strange cock in my hand. Underneath, there was a large hairy pouch, which moved around as I worked. I rubbed the phallus up and down as he told me. It became as hard as a piece of wood. I grabbed the loose skin that could no longer cover the large plum. I pulled it back with every movement. His pleasure seemed to increase as my movements became faster.

 — I'm about to cum. Je vai jouir! Oh! Oh! Keep going... keep going! Faster... don't let go... mon dieu! What a pleasure! Squeeze hard... oh!

With my right hand, I pulled up and down the way girls milk cows. I lowered my eyes to the naked phallus. He uttered a few incomprehensible words. Suddenly, while I was looking, a stream of thick, hot stuff shot out and fell in a gush onto my hand and arm. I kept rubbing until the rebar, covered in foam, slipped out of my hand.

 — Now you have to promise me that book as soon as you can get it, otherwise I won't visit you again.

 — Tomorrow, I'll go to the pier on purpose. I'm sure I'll find him there.

 — Bonjour, alors. I'll pick you up the day after tomorrow.

 — Ah, my sweet dove, then you will learn one more thing; a very good thing that all young ladies like very much.

 — But I have to have my book.

 — Sansfaute, au revoir!

 — You — Eveline — the young lady who everyone says is so delicately beautiful, so refined that they say your noble and ancient blood can be seen in your face and body, associating with a being like this! A hunchback, whose hideous head is buried deep in his shoulders, whose dwarfish stature hardly exceeds four English feet, whose wretched legs arch apart like the opposing staves of a barrel!

 — Yes — Eveline pleads guilty. In art, the rule is that we must all be well proportioned; we must all come together to form a pleasing likeness. In lust, it's the other way around. Lust is fueled by disparity. By incongruity and perversion. The tall man likes the small woman. The old man's senile passion is stimulated by the immature girl. The old lady takes a twenty-year-old boy in her arms and fills him with gifts so that his interest, if not his desire, remains unchanged. Endless requirements arise from these anomalies. So why couldn't the soft, graceful, elegant and well-mannered Eveline find a similar stimulus in playing with a deformed but interesting hunchback? Eveline is perverse. If you don't believe that, please close these memories. They're not for you.

But at the same time, the hunchback is a strong man with a large phallus. Eveline, even at that early age, had conceived a desire for strong men with large limbs.

Two days later, during playtime, I found an opportunity to go to the porter's house, not to get sweets.

Everything was silent. The janitor was standing by the small window. From there, he could see the avenue straight up to the main building. Evidently, he had seen me coming.

 — I came to find out about my book... my Voltaire. Did you get it?

 — Ah, mademoiselle, as if I could forget a being as sweet and beautiful as you. Of course I have him. Look at him here!

He lifted several small volumes lined with old leather in both hands and waved them triumphantly over his ghastly head. He placed them on the table. I looked at the title, Essai sur les Moeurs et Vesprit des Nations. I picked up the first volume — Charlemagne.

 — You're very good. That's what I want. Tell me the price.

 — You, beautiful chérie, have already paid me for anything I can do for you in my entire life. Then we'll talk about the price.

He slapped his large concave chest hard. And bowed. Then he changed his attitude.

If I hadn't known he was playing a role, I might have believed his vehemence. However, I knew very well what his vicious designs were for me. I was on my guard. I put the little book in my pocket.

 — Well, now, my pretty, you're going to give me my reward.

He put his long arm around my waist. He squinted at the avenue and then, with his left hand, he loosened his underwear and shamelessly displayed his large phallus.

 — I am a man of few words, dear mademoiselle, but feel the weight of it!

I looked at the man's nakedness. As he spoke, he took my hand. He placed it on my phallus. When my fingers closed on his exposed nakedness, his request became impossible. Like a snake, the huge vein straightened and stretched. It grew with strong muscular jerks. It stood proudly on its own, a little away from the hairy belly. I looked at him, and at the man himself, with a great desire to laugh.

Obviously, the little man wasn't in the mood for a joke. His face, inflamed with the grossest lust, was right in front of mine. His bowed legs, stocky body and long, inelegant arms seemed irresistibly comical. Standing in front of me, with his left arm against his hip, his right arm across his body, and his long, vigorous phallus disproportionately stretched out in front of him, he seemed to resemble nothing more than an exaggerated teapot with a straight spout.

Then I was overcome by a strange feeling of abandonment. I felt aroused beyond all self-control by the strangeness of the situation. I rested my small hand on that huge cock again. I could feel it throbbing. The man's excitement influenced me. I was very willing to accept his impudent advances. I sat down in the armchair. He stood in front of me. I examined the large phallus. I stroked it with my hand. I shook it and played with it, marveling at its size and elasticity.

 — Now it's my turn. I have to find out where all your little charms are hidden, ma belle.

He added action to words. He slipped his hand up my skirts. He reached my thighs without opposition. I was in no mood to resist his audacious maneuvers. Unexpectedly, he lifted my clothes. The most private part of me was completely exposed to his eager eyes. His face instantly approached me and, dropping to his knees, he glued his lips to my eye socket. I felt his hot tongue licking me like a dog's as he moved it from side to side. At that moment, a sensation of voluptuous pleasure overwhelmed me. I shuddered, and realized that I had felt the climax of sexual pleasure. However, the hunchback continued his pleasure with evident satisfaction. Very soon afterwards, I felt that I was being invaded by the same spasms of pleasure and my head fell back onto the soft cushion as I lay in a kind of dreamy swoon.

I was awakened when I felt the janitor standing in front of me, with his long, hard instrument pressed against my cheek.

 — Ma chérie, now you've come! You had pleasure; tell me, was it good? Now you're going to do for me what I did for you, ma belle, aren't you? Kiss him.

He pressed the end of the harmonica against my lips. I kissed him over the small opening at the end. I opened my mouth to speak. He immediately shoved his big phallus in. The tip passed between my moist lips. It felt good. I liked it. I let him do what he wanted. I didn't care, I wanted to come. And so did he. I squeezed the thick shaft with both hands, there was room for both of us. I sucked on it. I thought it was delicious. He squirmed. He moved up and down. I was fully enjoying the most intense sensations of pleasure. I circled the small hole with my tongue. I pulled my wet lips apart. I managed to look down a little. The big tip had turned purple and tasted like hot cheese. I squeezed the phallus hard. My hands rubbed up and down.

 — Oh! Oh! Oh! It's delicious, go on, ma belle! Oh! Oh!

I was determined to continue. I suspected what he wanted to do. I didn't care. I'd let him do what he wanted, so I kept sucking. Sometimes he almost pulled the red fruit from my lips and other times he stuffed it as far as he could into my mouth. His features transfigured with convulsive pleasure. I too felt a distinct and undefined pleasure in the act I was practicing. At that moment, a few slippery drops came out of his shaft. I felt the urge to pull back. But before I could, he pushed forward. A perfect stream of white liquid gushed out of the hole and filled my mouth. I rubbed with both hands and sucked with my lips. I only gave up when he went quiet. He moaned with ecstasy as he came. It seemed to take a long time. I took it all in my mouth and the liquid dripped from my lips.

A few days later, I had the opportunity to return to the janitor. Madame St. C. never tired of praising his qualities. He was a very conscientious little man. He strictly observed all his religious duties. He knew very well how to ward off people who tried to come in with letters of request and other means of deceiving inattentive people. In short, he was invaluable. I only found him useful, and his singular passion excited my precocious lust for knowledge of the male sex. He was the embodiment of erotic desire itself and it was as such that I used him.

As always, he was at home. He welcomed me with an exclamation of obscene triumph. After checking that everything was safe, he invited me into his refuge and, opening his blouse and pants, displayed his phallus. I loved grasping it in my small hand. Before it swelled to its full size and got hard and hard, I put my lips on it and sucked it. I thought it was delicious. Evidently, he was of my opinion. The phallus swelled, far too quickly for my liking, and got hard until I could hardly close my lips over the huge tip.

He was completely charmed by my goodwill. I had no idea how lascivious a well-educated, well-born young woman can be when she is free from all fear of the consequences of her indiscretions.

I was delighted to discover the male organ in all its strength and virility. We were completely alone. We were both fully aware of this. It gave us the confidence we needed to fully develop our lust. He had never met such a free and capable student. I had never discovered such a favorable opportunity to satisfy my precocious instincts.

I have presented our conversation in English, but of course it was in French. I was considered one of the best English girls in terms of fluency; and teachers often told me that my accent was exceptionally non-English and good.

The afternoon was just beginning. There was a long break between classes. We felt safe. I can hardly remember everything that happened. The hunchback remained stiff. I let him visit me more freely than before. He tried to take advantage of my simplicity to make me a real victim of his lust. I repelled every attempt, not entirely because I feared the consequences or the violence of the aggressor. I had my own ideas. What they were, we'll find out later. After realizing that I wouldn't be willing to receive his monstrous phallus between my thighs, he went back to sucking on my parts. He delighted in this exercise. He reduced me to a state of exhaustion. Then he presented the huge phallus to my lips. The previous scene was repeated. I received the other volumes of Voltaire. I slipped home through the bushes with my little books in my pocket.

Chapter 3

My stay at the boarding house was coming to an end when something happened that I had predicted would happen sooner or later. One day, the door to the caretaker's house remained closed; the shutters on the windows remained unopened. A woman was temporarily guarding the large iron gates. The students were confined to the lawn in front of the house during recess hours. The whole establishment had a look of melancholy resignation.

Then the mystery was solved. First, of course, by the maids. The teapot had disappeared — spout and all! Finally, my friend the janitor had been "discovered".

But that wasn't all. Two of the older girls with whom I hadn't become very close had also disappeared. Another was locked in her room. Gradually, the whole truth came out. Mademoiselle L... and Mademoiselle B... had been sent home to their parents, each of them with increasingly clear proof of the effectiveness of the teapot's long, hard spout in their domestic arrangements; Mademoiselle X..., as she had no parents, and her uncle was abroad, waited for the outcome, but fortunately it turned out that, in her case, the spout had not injected its prolific essence to harm her pretty figure!

Of course there was a scandal. As in the Brighton case, the public didn't let it go. Ruy Blas, and other opportunistic newspapers, published sordid details, and more or less went beyond the facts, which were serious enough in their naked simplicity.

It was thanks to Mademoiselle X... that I ended up learning the real facts. It seems the three of them were in on the scam. The ghastly janitor must have had a good time, because the girls, especially the last one, were all beautiful and well-groomed. I was lucky not to get involved in the mess. My conduct had always been cited as exemplary. I was presented as a model for the others. The janitor at least had the merit of not talking about his mistresses. I remained beyond suspicion.

That he had managed to penetrate those girls' private parts was obvious. I was eager to know all the details. I couldn't understand how such a gigantic phallus could enter them. I took the whole story from Mademoiselle X... after managing to be selected as the only colleague allowed to visit her.

Apparently, they had managed to find a way to escape from the room, where the three of them were supposed to sleep in separate beds. They waited for the dark nights. They took turns going to the porter's house. The hunchback always had a futile gift or some sweets to offer the nocturnal visitors. However, their senses soon awoke to the return of the man's lustful sensations. They abandoned themselves to his embrace. My unfortunate companion described everything that had happened in terms that showed no great regret for her indiscretion. She soon discovered that I was by no means an uncompassionate listener.

It was delicious; I'd do it again if I had the chance. He had a delicious shaft. It was also very long and very hard. Did I know that the girls, some of them, were in the habit of sucking it in exchange for sweets? But it was true. She had sucked him. He liked it a lot. She liked it too. Then he sucked her parts. During the day, they were very private. At night, they were free. They did what they wanted, one at a time. He was always ready for her. He would persuade her to take off her peignoir, under which she wore only a petticoat and a chemise de nuit. He left her almost naked. He showed off his large phallus. She caressed it and sucked on it. Then he would visit her whole body. One day, he put her to bed. He was very excited. He only had his chemise on. He groped her and kissed her everywhere. On the mouth. He didn't let her finish the job as usual. He liked to finish cumming, as he'd already told me, in her mouth. A large quantity of thick, white liquid came out of him. It was good. His phallus was, oh, so long. Oh, and it was so thick! It was like that... and it was that thick. It was exaggeratedly terrible — very big — very strong!

 — Well! This time I was lying on my back. He was on my stomach. His phallus was between my thighs. He forced me to open them. He put pressure on it, rubbed the big phallus between my lips, down there. It hurt me. I screamed. He called me petite imbécile. He was furious. I put my hand out to stop him. I grabbed the big phallus. I found that it was almost halfway inside me. Oh, it was so hard, so strong! He kept thrusting... thrusting that huge cock into me. It wouldn't go in any further. He exclaimed, "Now I'm coming!". I grabbed the phallus again with my hand to pull it out. I felt spasms all along the phallus. Then it fell over my body. I knew that the thick liquid was gushing onto my belly. After he'd finished, he got off me. He made me stand up too. I was completely covered in his ejaculate. My legs were slippery and so were my parts. They hurt horribly. But what do I care? My good uncle won't be angry. He'll love me very much. He's always good to me. One day, when I was little, he made me feel his phallus. It's not as big as our janitor's, not by a long shot. I'm going to love him. He'll put it where that huge janitor couldn't get in. I'll like it. My uncle will like it... we'll be happy.

Once again the train to Calais, once again that dreadful seasickness. I was free. No more school; no more boarding for Eveline! My father had returned from India. His commission had come to an end. He had received his Order of Bath. He was now retiring with the rank of Major General. His chest was covered with the medals he had won, and yet, apart from a few minor scratches, he had never been wounded. He was still a young and vigorous man, in the prime of life. He was also the direct descendant of an ancient family, and a baronet.

I was seventeen. I had reached an age when I could say goodbye to the educational routine. I was going to spend a few months at home, in Mayfair, to perfect my skills with music and singing lessons with the best teachers. Not that my mother wanted me to return; she had her reasons for agreeing, albeit grudgingly. Lady L... had never gotten over the antipathy she felt towards her only daughter. However, Sir Edward had an unequivocal desire to have me home. It was to him that I owed my emancipation. We hadn't seen each other since I was a child of eight. All my affection was focused on him. I shared his desire for us to meet again after such a long absence.

When I arrived, Sir Edward was away hunting in the north. My mother informed me that he was suffering from a rheumatism attack. She stayed in her room. My time didn't take long to pass. I had a lot of freedom. The carriage was at my disposal. We were rich. The house was comfortable. The servants were many and well paid. They were obviously delighted to welcome me into their home, to have someone to break up the monotony of their existence.

I quickly began to discriminate between them. There was the servant, John Parker, who was especially polite and attentive to me. My mother preferred to take her meals in her room upstairs. I ate alone, except when I invited a young friend my own age to share the meal. On those occasions when I was alone, John would venture to suggest several more appetizing portions from the platters in front of me. I would cut them up and arrange them on my plate. He interested me. He was a man of about thirty-eight, not very tall for a servant, but strong and stocky. In my ignorance, I thought he looked magnificent in his beautiful livery, with its gold shoulder pads, black silk stockings and crimson plush shorts. He made quite an impression on me. I suppose I made my interest in him too obvious. He soon became more attentive, more subservient — more familiar.

 — How long have you been here, John?

From the beginning, I had never got used to calling him Parker.

 — It'll be three years next Christmas.

 — You must find it very boring now that Sir Edward is away and Mr. Percy is in Canada. I hope you have fun times down there, when your work is done here.

 — Well, miss, not really. The others aren't a very cheerful bunch and the cook leaves after the service. The two girls stay upstairs with the girl's personal maid. Now that you're here, if I may say so, the house isn't the same. It seems more cheerful... at least to me, miss.

Where's my maid, John? She didn't bring my shoes. I can't stand these boots anymore, I'm tired.

Mary's upstairs, miss, do you want me to call her?

 — No, John, if you'd do me the favor of loosening these laces, I'll be able to sit more comfortably at the table.

I stretched out my foot. I put it down on a bench. John leaned over. He began to untie the knot. His hand was shaking.

Unfortunately, John, you're not exactly a lady's maid, but I think you're very nice nonetheless.

John laughed. I gave it a little kick. My foot touched his plush shorts.

 — Oh, you hurt me, John... No... not my knuckles... it's the shoelace at the bottom of my instep... look...

He grabbed my foot. He touched my ankle.

 — And right there, John, please rub a little.

John started rubbing my ankle. As he rubbed, I rocked my foot back and forth on his plush shorts. Something hard seemed to grow under my foot.

 — What's in your pocket, John? Is it a flute?

 — No, miss, I'm not musical. I don't play any instruments.

The man turned as scarlet as his shorts and looked very confused.

 — It looks exactly like one, John, and it's getting bigger and bigger.

I pulled my little leather boot closer and touched his cock better. John's hand was now on my calf, and my black silk stocking obviously delighted him, as he showed a willingness to stay where he was.

I put on my most innocent and childish air.

 — Do all men have those things there, John? The girls at school told me a lot about them.

 — I don't know, miss, I suppose so. I... frankly! Miss! I'm afraid someone's going to come in.

 — Don't be scared, John, no one's coming in. I want to touch him.

 — Good God! Miss... if anyone knows... if I get caught, I'll lose my job.

 — But you're not going to say anything, are you, John?

 — Oh dear, no, miss! But the girl can count inadvertently.

I stretched forward. With my hand, I grabbed the object that was in the stuffed shorts. John lay very still and breathed heavily.

 — Good God, girl! If someone comes in, if we get caught!

 — Everyone's upstairs... we're alone. I have to touch it. I know what it is, John. Good God! How it pulses... how big it's getting... Let me touch it.

The servant submitted willingly. Everything indicated that he wasn't upset at all. It was obvious that he liked my touches. Covertly, I undid the top button of his shorts. I boldly slipped my hand inside. Without delay, I ran my hand down his stomach. I noticed that his nice, clean shirt was warm. Then my hand tightened on his phallus. I pulled the shirt away. I squeezed his naked phallus. It was very fat and thick. It was still hardening. Suddenly, I twisted it. It was now hard against his belly.

 — Is it good, John?

 — Good God! Yes, miss, it's divine, but unfortunately we can get caught.

He seemed to have a huge phallus, not as long as the horrible janitor's, but very thick and very strong. I managed to pull back the foreskin. I felt a big, soft, beautiful glans at the end. He turned towards me. He was enjoying my games, but the space was too confined to allow me to touch him as I wanted.

Just then, the front doorbell rang.

I withdrew my hand. John buttoned up. The next minute, he was opening the door with the grandiose air of a butler who could crush the newcomer with a glance.

I began to think of a way to get to the essence of my desires. There are certain things you have to do for yourself. I strengthened myself for the occasion. I went to a quiet street in Soho. I had noticed a second-rate store that was an apothecary — as we say in London, a pharmacy and drugstore. I went in. I had chosen the quiet time of early afternoon. There was no one in the store. A good-looking young man with blond hair appeared from the back room.

 — Good afternoon. I want a syringe... a female syringe; show me some of the best ones you have.

 — Certainly, miss, would you please stop by.

He took me to the other end of the counter. From a drawer, he took out a number of copies of the article in question.

 — These are all good, but this type is the one we particularly recommend. It's made of vulcanite. It doesn't break or hurt.

I watched them with a professional air.

 — Yes, you're right. I'll take the one you recommended.

He probably saw that I wasn't sure how to hold the object. I stared at him with a smile. His eyes sparkled.

 — Do you know how it should be applied, miss?

 — Well, maybe not properly.

This time, he smiled. I laughed softly.

 — How is it filled, and with what?

 — We always have detergent ready, miss. If you wait a moment, I'll get some water and explain how to use it.

I nodded slowly. He went into the back room. Moments later, he returned.

 — Please come here so I can show you how it works.

I followed the good-looking young man with the blond hair. He filled the syringe with water and poured it into a sink.

 — You should always clean it after use and keep it in its case... like this.

I laughed softly again.

The young man laughed too. I was very naughty and encouraged his hilarity. Evidently, he had taken me for a phallus representing a class to which I didn't have the honor of belonging. I decided to amuse him. He became more intimate.

 — After all, it's not the same as the real thing. Would you like me to try it on for you? It would be a pleasure to serve you, miss.

 — Thanks, but I'd prefer the real thing if it behaves like the imitation. You probably don't have any in stock?

This time, he let out a laugh. He looked around. We understood each other in an instant. He wrapped his arms around my waist.

 — You beautiful little devil! Where do you come from?

 — Can we be sure that we'll be left alone? Suppose someone comes into the store?

 — You'll have to wait. I can close the door. Look, there's a muslin curtain. We can see out. People can't see in.

 — Then I'll try the real thing... if I get one!

He had aroused my desire. He was very handsome. He went to lock the door. He pushed me onto a leather sofa.

 — You mean it when you say you'll let me do the job, eh? Do you know how amazingly beautiful you are? I've never seen such a beautiful girl. You're so well-dressed. I should warn you that I'm not rich, you don't want to bother me later, do you?

 — I'm not asking for anything. I wouldn't want to disappoint you.

 — Oh my God! What fun! I've never had such an opportunity. How sweet your kisses are! Let me feel it.

 — Where's your syringe? Oh my God! What a beauty! However, it's much bigger than the imitation. Kiss me!

 — Yes, much bigger and almost as tough. And, as you'll soon discover, just as capable. Oh, your kisses are sweet.

I held the phallus in my gloved hand. His fingers were in the liquid of my crack. He was very well made — nowhere near as big as the janitor. I was wonderfully aroused. I wanted him to "do the job", as he put it. He was completely hard.

I didn't have to wait long. I was totally devoid of modesty. I thought I knew how I could please him more. I played my part.

 — Be quick... I want you in me! Come on!

I pulled all my clothes up. He saw all my nakedness.

 — My God, what lovely legs! What lovely stockings! What small, well-made boots! My goodness! Oh... what luck!

The young man mounted me quickly. In an instant, I felt him penetrating me. My whole crack was burning with desire.

 — My God, how tight it is... stay still... I'm going in now. Oh, my God, that's good! I'm all inside you!

It was true. I was tasting the pleasure of intercourse with a fully grown man for the first time. I couldn't speak — I could only sob and moan in the ecstasy of that encounter. I grabbed him by the shoulders. I felt the fine hairs of his belly brushing against my flesh. He thrust vigorously. His phallus got harder and harder. It seemed to enter me to the limit of my capacity. The pleasure was divine.

 — Oh, Christ! I'm cumming! I'm coming! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!

 — The syringe! The syringe! Give me everything!

The young man came — spurt after spurt. He had told the truth. His syringe was wide. The sperm rushed into me like a flood.

 — You beautiful little devil! How deliciously pleasant. Now you have to use imitation. I'll get you some water.