The Romance of Lust: A classic Victorian erotic novel
gratification few and far between. But occasionally to suck up his young
sperm after the excitement of their love combat produces a stiffness for
my beautiful wife to mount upon me and then have our charming son to put
his prick into her bottom for this, too, is necessary to my failing
vigour, and the contact of his vigorous young prick against the thin
filmy substance separating us feels as nothing. I am long in spending,
and his delighted mother gets two and sometime three delicious
discharges in her arse before my lazy prick deluges her cunt with my
incestuous sperm.
We are thus a happy family, bound by the strong ties of double
incestuous lust. It is necessary to have these loved objects to fall
back upon, for alas! all the earlier partakers of my prick are now dead
and gone. Aunt and uncle, the Dales, the Nichols, my beloved Benson, and
her friends the Egertons.
I have already mentioned the Count’s death, and both my sisters have
left me alone, and I should have been a dreary and solitary old man but
for my beloved wife and son, who solace me and replace the void in my
heart I should otherwise have so sadly felt.
I shall here end this long tale of my erotic life.
A curious event has happened lately, the divorce of a Mr. Cavendish from
his wife for adultery with the young Count de la Rochefoucault. The
details brought before the court were of the most scandalous nature,
especially the letters exchanged between them when the Count had to go
to Rome, where he was attaché to the French Embassy. When the husband’s
counsel handed up the letters with the sworn notary’s translation, he
remarked that he thought they were too horribly scandalous to be read in
court. The judge scanned a few of them, and, addressing the counsel
said—
“I am perfectly of your opinion, my learned brother, I shall take them
home and make a point of them in my address to the jury.”
It will be seen that they were of such a nature that doubtless the old
judge, who was no other than my dear old chum Harry Dale, gave his wife
two or three extra fucks on the strength of the lust produced by those
exciting and extraordinary lascivious letters from a young man of only
twenty-one years of age, showing quite as early an initiation into all
the luxury of the utmost depravity as any of my own details of my early
experiences with my darling old aunt.
Some of the letters are a string of imaginary events as to how far they
could carry their imaginations. The Count constantly alludes to the
inferiority of his descriptions to those given in her replies. Alas! as
he possesses those exciting replies of the lady, they cannot be got at,
but from his descriptions, and the remarks on certain gross
familiarities, it’s evident she was gifted with as lascivious and
lustful a temperament as either my aunt or the divine Frankland.
A chance threw these interesting letters into my possession, and I can
assure the reader they are the veritable sworn translations of the
letters found in Mrs. Cavendish’s davenport when it was broken open by
her husband, and produced on the trial. The Count had evidently dreaded
such an event, and it will be seen he constantly implores her to destroy
his letters as soon as read. But, with the infatuation of her sex, she
kept them to furnish the sole evidence by which she lost her place in
society and became a lost woman. It is added that she was a woman of
forty-five, and the mother of several children, but it is these randy
voluptuous matrons who have the most attractions to a young man who
feels flattered and is proud of, as he thinks, conquering a woman in a
good position in society. It is evident enough that she was no tyro in
every depravity of lust, and probably had passed through many hands
before he gained her. He appears to have been really cunt-struck, which,
as I have before observed, is one of the strongest infatuations that a
man can have.
END OF VOLUME IV.
ADDENDA
LETTERS
PRODUCED IN THE DIVORCE-CASE
CAVENDISH
_v_.
CAVENDISH AND ROCHEFOUCAULT.
Rome, _Saturday_
_August 6th, 1859, 10 o’clock_.
I tried last night, my angel, to write you a half sheet, but it was as
much as I could do to read your letter a second time, and it was only by
making a great effort that I was able to write a few lines. However,
this morning I will try and continue, in order to reward you, not for
that one which you have deprived me of from pique, but for those
bewitching ones which I have lately received.
I have just received your letter 17, begun August 3rd, 11 o’clock at
night, and bless you for the idea of addressing it to Pal. B., it is
infinitely preferable, and there is no fear of any risk (“indiscretion”
in original) either now or later.
I am delighted when I think of the pleasure you derived from what I sent
you the other day. I only decided upon it in fear and trembling. I do
not understand what you mean by letter direct to Albert. If you do not
send it per Embassy bag I should not have it here till Monday; you would
have done much better to have put it in the parcel. All last night I
slept very badly, no doubt in consequence of a presentiment I had that I
should not receive a half sheet, and that you were annoyed at my going
to Albano, and I thought of a mass of things as disagreeable as they are
painful. Of your birthday, for instance, the 1st of October, which will
be an opportunity for II * [* II stands for her husband] to make you a
present in return for the set of studs which you gave him on his
birthday, when you, no doubt, will give him something.
As to your brown cloak which II gave you, &c. &c., I request that on
your birthday when he makes you his usual present, whatever it may be,
you accept it and say, “I thank you,” and, without even looking at it,
put it upon the table, immediately speak of something else, and when he
has left the room, put it away out of sight without ever speaking of it
again, or appearing to know what has become of it.
I have just been interrupted for an hour and a half by M. de
Fiennes—very agreeable is it not? You must forgive me if I am unable to
write to you at length; what I have said to you above is for the future,
but the past is over since he has those studs. I forbid you to give him
something in future, unless you cannot possibly do otherwise; and, in
that case, you must give cigarettes or anything which does not last. I
will see what is to be done about your shawl, was it not II who gave it
to you? Thanks, my treasure, to walk so far from II; it is so good of
you to give up to me that walk, which I hate when you take it with him.
Ah! new projects again, but let us hope these will be the last, how I
pity you. You were so well you told me two days ago, and now you are
already obligated to take some powders—it is II system. Nice health you
seem to have; you have good reason for believing that the regimen you
have hitherto followed is a good one, it succeeds so well! Poor darling
I can comprehend how uncomfortable these frequent agitations must make
you. I suffer from them so often myself.
I will make you some drawings later. I have not the time today. Those
uncertainties of your mother are terrible. Oh, yes, I am in despair at
that departure, particularly before my lot is decided, and knowing, as I
do, that you are unhappy. But, my child, do not fear to let it be known
in every direction that you cannot endure II, and that you have taken a
disgust to him. Do not hesitate to give the true reasons when you refuse
to do anything, simply, “Yes, or No, the hand, but with ……… it is not
necessary. I can dispense with it, nothing of that sort is necessary.”
And then, when that has produced the desired effect, add, “We can only
live under the same roof upon those conditions, for sooner would I go
away altogether than that it should be otherwise.” Speak in this manner;
it won’t answer very well at first perhaps; but he will soon get
accustomed to it, “How do you do?” in the morning, and “Good night,” at
night. Then gradually get into the way of saying “Mr. C.” when talking
of, or speaking to him. You may be told it is not the custom. Answer you
don’t care, it is not the custom to be such an idiot as he is. Ah, you
are too sad, poor child, all that is charming, and all our
superstitions. Moreover, one must think of what has been, not of what
will be, and compare it with what is. The progress is very delightful
and consoling.
Do not be unhappy about my horse, he did not go very well, and then I do
not care about driving in a carriage when you are on foot.
I have made two drawings, one prettier than the other, and I have had a
copious emission.
Mrs. S. has made no tentative overtures towards me. She is often that
way inclined, and with everybody. Be calm then; but, after all, you are
perfectly so, only you pretend to be otherwise. God bless you for
speaking so often of your pretty rose-coloured silk stockings. I like
them so much, and adore you for wearing _them_, although it is not the
custom, above all in the day time. Doubtless it is very coquettish,
pretty, and wondrously exciting. Even only to think of them gives me an
erection. And that rice powder! how divine you must look. It is to be
hoped that the powder in your hair will not give ideas to II and
embolden him—take care. Thanks for thinking so often of me, my idolized
angel. Adieu, my good, my best treasure, I love and embrace you
tenderly. I will have my revenge, for I, too, had prepared a half sheet,
but will not send it till tomorrow.
Rome, _Saturday, for Sunday’s Post_
_August 6th, 1859, 2 o’clock_.
I wish to give you a little surprise, my own dear little darling, in
sending you this letter, which you will receive with a half sheet upon
which you had not reckoned on Tuesday morning, so as to supply the place
of Sunday’s post. It was to give you this little surprise, and in no way
of retaliation, that I did not send a half sheet in my letter of this
morning. It was very unkind of you not to send yours upon the pretext
that I was at Albano, but you will have been ashamed of it since.
Besides, even supposing that I had been there, I should not have
committed any indiscretion with your envelopes, which are so excellent,
and, if one had felt inclined to do so, your letter was sufficient to
make me indifferent to it. I suspect you of not having prepared what is
necessary, I shall be sure to see if it be so; tomorrow’s letter ought
to contain two. I continue your letter 17, and I perceive with rapture
that you have had a thick cream-like emission of enjoyment. How
delicious it would be in my tea. How I should like to send you some like
it also. It is a good thing that my letter to the little girl was
successful. Will you tell Madame de Delmar that I am sorry to hear that
she is suffering, particularly as her ordinarily detestable disposition
only becomes more thick and more execrable. Suppress this latter part if
you think it better.
Ah! you think that Madame Salvi has played her cards well and in what
way, I ask? You are too bad, too implacable. I do not like that in you.
I have told you that your suspicions wounded me, and I think you can
believe me when I tell you that I have completely changed my conduct in
that respect. Besides, what can I possibly do. I am very uncomfortable
here. The Abdol don’t want me; besides, the Duke has given me to
understand that I ought occasionally to go and see his wife, and the
Borgh bother me with all their children.
Thanks, my good angel, for the letter Des Pierre. If it be decided that
you leave, I shall go for a few days to Civita—sad and mournful
consolation. Why do you tell me that you will go barefooted when I go to
see you. I am quite of your opinion that your feet are only too