Splendid days alternating with foggy ones passed over the love of the two young people.
While her husband was busy working in the fields, Danielle loved to wander through the grassy paths listening to the hum of the insects in the warm grass, often stopping to look at the countryside bathed in a wonderful light. She couldn't take her eyes off that country where everything brought back the memories of her candid childhood.
How far away that time of innocence was!
Sometimes she thought she heard the voices of her parents, who now slept peacefully in the little village cemetery.
As soon as she was home with her husband again, who took her in his arms, a certain nostalgia would penetrate her without her even knowing the state of mind she was in and, as if the mute things which prowled around were melting inside her body, she heard the call of her childhood.
The promises she had made herself to live happily with her golden dreams had been annihilated under the unclean passions that had swallowed her up.
How many nights of stupor and madness had she spent giving her whore's body, offering that corner of her body to lascivious males?
Like a leaf swept by the passing winds, she had been touched, soiled, and now the vivifying wind of the country smelled of the perfumed prairies, murmuring a rebirth of her young years.
It was too late to live like that.
“Yes,” she thought, “I could have had a home and children like the others. Of course I wouldn't have known life, but my ignorance would have prevented me from being a…”
She was afraid of thinking the word whore. But she had been a whore!
And not just like those sluts who opened their mealy mouths, with their breasts falling down over their navels and a cracked skin as if all the foetuses of the world had been inside them, but a receptacle for human ordure, a gaping cavity where all the vomit of the world had been poured…
She often wished she could forget the memory of those ten years of forbidden passion. But the more she tried to chase away the visions that obsessed her, the more they came back! When she slept beside her husband, she had terrible dreams.
She was struggling against huge virile members that foraged all over her, hairy heads that leaned over her and bloody lips full of saliva that forced their way over her mouth, red feverish tongues that almost choked her.
And the dreams continued.
There were androgynes with swollen abdomens, male organs and the breasts of a woman, who sneered as they caressed her contracted body…
Then she would wake up, damp with sweat, her eyes wild, and she would find her husband lying at her side, his flaccid cock pressed against her buttocks.
This melancholy which plagued her, rising from her lascivious being… this physical obsession which she could not chase from her mind, made her see through all the vicissitudes of her existence and the happiness to which she could never submit.
She would cry to herself as she touched her cunt where she could still feel the indelible traces of her innumerable lovers.
“I don't have the right to pursue this dream of love and youth! No…! Life has caught me in its cogwheels. I must leave here before it's too late.”
And everything spoke this same language. There was no room for this whore in the simplicity of country ways.
She realized the inanity of the destiny she had made for herself. Nothing could ever interest her. She had to submit to the bondage of her sensual nature.
Poor Tony. He at least had kept the purity of his intentions despite his wife's depravity. Yes… he loved her… like a madman! Without ignoring his life in the village, however.
He didn't reproach her for anything. He hadn't even been surprised by her skill in love-making. She had been the initiator.
He felt a gratitude toward her for having revealed the positions of love to him and he lived only for her, for her body, for her cunt which had been filled with semen other than his.
When they possessed one another with a studied roughness, it was like a wild assault which made them come quickly, clinging to each other's sweating bodies.
And, having filled his young wife's body with the blind force of the powerful male, he contemplated her as she lay back fatigued and satisfied, still smiling at him through half-closed eyes weighed down by sleep.
Danielle could no longer stand this stifling atmosphere. One day, around the end of summer, when the last rays of the sun were still lighting the prairies, she suggested to her husband that they take a walk.
“You know, Tony, I'd give anything to go back to the place where I often went when I was a child.”
He was only too happy to follow her. They started off arm in arm, breathing the vivifying air from the hills. In the distance, the mountain stretched its imposing mass.
The young woman, felt as though it were ten years earlier.
She had taken this path with… No! She must push that idea away. She mustn't think of her first lover. Nothing could exist now of that indelible trace which stained her cunt.
The path continued with sudden turns. They stopped at times to contemplate the countryside that lay behind them. Arms around each other's waists, they looked at the magnificent panorama which became shaded in an opaque mist as they walked higher and higher.
She pointed in the directions of a protuberant knoll.
“Look, Tony… that's where I often came. I remember everything. One day my father sent me to look for some stray animals… I found them here. Look…!”
She showed him a grassy prairie. They were holding hands, helping each other climb the little rocks that rose in their path. The young woman's hair was floating freely, caressed by the warm breeze that blew at times. Tony puffed out his strong chest and offered his well-nourished musculature to nature, like a sacrifice to her beauty.
Several hours after their departure, they came in sight of the mountain, the object of their trek.
Breathless, yet happy with the walk, they rested in the complete silence of this corner of Arcadia. It was just this countryside that a Latin poet had described. They felt almost as though the flute of Pan could be heard close by, accompanying the dancing of nymphs who were bathing in the rivers that descended the mountain. They almost expected to see a satyr or a faun following a divinity of the woods, with his he-goat feet and his beard.
But all these dreams had been gone for a long time there was no one but the two young people in the immensity of nature.
Danielle had placed her head on Tony's knees. Her half-closed eyes let a ray of light filter in and closed reluctantly on the vast panorama.
Tony was caressing his wife's breasts in his joyousness. He was beginning to be excited. Anyway, this had become a habit. As soon as he had had the revelation that his cock could serve something besides the mute contemplation of his swollen parts, he had gladly adapted himself to it and desired only to introduce himself into her sheath.
The young woman let herself be soothed by the atmosphere of this lost place. The mountain with its granite force, its firmness, its insolence before human weakness, the warmth of Tony's body which she felt close to her, everything contributed to plunge her into vague reveries which made her languid.
She drew her husband's lips against her perfumed mouth and held them for a long time.
“Tony, I want you to possess me with all your strength here in this beautiful place. But do it like I taught you.”
The words had become superfluous.
Danielle unbuttoned her husband's pants, then she slipped her warm hand inside. She took out a firm object, — proud of its size, which filled the palm of her hand.
Tony was panting, feeling the flow of passion rising within him.
She had stretched out and removed her red skirt. Then, separating her thighs, she got into position. Leaning on his elbows, abdomen to abdomen, sex to sex, Tony began his male occupation.
He went in with little blows so that the heat would spread as he descended further and further into the delicate crater…
The young woman closed her eyes. She imprisoned Tony's torso with her legs like an animal in heat flushed with desire.
In a brief and fugitive vision, she remembered her first lover. She thought she could feel him inside her as he had been ten years earlier, fucking her joyfully, having suffered with desire for so long.
Then everything disappeared…
She opened her eyes again.
Her husband was still working over her. Soon their bodies shuddered. A sudden relaxation joined them as his cock spurted hotly.
They had discharged together.
A light wind had risen. The mountain, mute witness of their couplement, kept its mystery. Some birds flew around and uttered strident little cries. The two bodies were still stretched out together.
“Tony do you think our love is marvelous?”
“Yes darling! I don't know how to thank you enough! You give me such varied pleasures…”
But Danielle was lying to herself in believing that she loved her husband. What she experienced in his company was the thirst for pleasure, her need for physical possession, the satisfaction of feeling herself as the passive female forced to satisfy her conqueror.
Gradually the distant memories of her childhood came back.
She could have been able to live a calm life like her parents in the simplicity of the hills, demanding only the happiness of her peers when the villages were illuminated for the evening before the burning fires.
But even this dream had been refused her. Because her sensual nature was fixed on one goal: constant pleasure.
Yes! In place of the whore she had been, there would have been a woman with a cunt reserved exclusively for the happiness of one man, and she wouldn't have been soiled by so many males.
“But I'm not going to let myself get overly emotional about this,” she thought. “I'm spoiled. Alright! There's still room for plenty of cocks! My body will serve as a tomb for more than one bastard…
“You're so naive, my Tony,” she continued, looking at her husband who was sitting beside her. “You'll find someone else. You'll forget me! You'll see how easy it is to forget…!”
But what she didn't dare admit was the regret of not having been able to find the right path at the beginning of her life.
And now, at the beginning of her decline, which would move faster and faster, she would always be the whore, the receptacle of the human seed.
They went down the path again which led to the foot of the mountain. The evening air became fresher and fresher.
“This night will be the last that I spend here,” she thought. “Poor Tony… I'm going to cause him so much pain. But he'll console himself. I need pleasure. It's as if there were a poison in my body! I feel it burning me everywhere!
“No, my place isn't here… anyway, one man isn't enough for me. I've received the homage of too many cocks for too long for it to be otherwise! All the bastards who fucked me have marked me for life. Alright! I'll give them my ass! But I want them to fuck me to death!”
And for the last time, not wanting to act like a little girl, while the evening stretched its cloak of stars over the countryside, Danielle contemplated the serenity of this land that had seen her birth.
She turned around, letting herself be separated from her husband who was waiting for her several yards lower, then she calmly began to walk again.
But in her heart, an old stifled sob demanded to be let out.
They reached the village at the same time as a troop of sheep returning to the flock. She caressed one of them, the smallest, and in this gesture, she put everything which was still fresh in her body, all her disappointed dreams, all the nostalgia of the little girl she had once been.
Her whole past returned to her again with a suddenness which made her wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.
Then, when they were alone again, there was no longer a wife but an obsessed and unsatisfied whore…
The next day, profiting by Tony's daily work in the fields, she left surreptitiously. No one had time to notice her departure.
She piled her bags into the bus that linked the village to the city.
She disappeared in that sun-filled morning.
A bird sang its final song.
The years passed.
An old farmer, who had known Danielle before her marriage, said that he had passed a drunk girl escorted by several sailors in an African town…
“She looked strangely like her,” he added in a dreamy tone to those who surrounded him.
But perhaps he was wrong.
Destiny had been her master. She had loved, her body had been bruised on all sides…
No one could ever mean anything to her.
She had pursued her dream like so many others: the desire for the immortality of the body, the thirst for pleasure that everyone possesses, the most luxurious caresses… and the most lascivious physical ecstasies… The lucky whore.