I slept soundly for nine hours and awoke with irresistible desire to… Finish the sentence if you are young or if you ever have been.
Excesses of love lend more to the sexual drive than do long periods of inactivity and arc much easier to take up once more on the next day than several weeks after. Everyone know? that. You can see, therefore, why I was in top form that morning. As the patriarch who was loved by Ruth said, it was a “triumphant"' morning; but triumphant though it was, I scarcely found it agreeable, for I still had this irresistible desire to… Do you understand? I think that if you have been following this story page by page through the seven preceding chapters you can guess what I did at the time during which the eighth opens.
Bathed, shaved, combed, and dressed in little more time than it takes to tell, I hurried towards the rooms of one of my closest girlfriends in the Latin Quarter. Fortunately, she was alone, and since she was dressed only in a slip, it took her less time to undress than it took me to slip off my tie. The more beautiful breasts a girl has, the more her slip weighs her down.
However, she was alarmed at my nervous state.
“What's wrong? What do you want? What's the matter with you?”
“My pretty little Margot, I want to make love.”
“Me too… and maybe if we know the right people in the government we might sleep together a while.”
“And… listen! I want to make love from the front, my little Margot! From the front!”
“From the front? For God's sake, I hope so!”
“Through here, you see? Through here. You get me? Not from back there.”
“You're nutty as a squirrel cage,” said Margot with a bewildered expression.
She was reassured little by little as her embrace calmed me, gave me the relief I sought like the glass of cool, fresh water that slakes the thirst alcohol has left. Still haunted by my recent adventure, I felt my head. I couldn't believe that this time at last… but simple little Margot wasn't mistaken. I doubt that she has ever known since a pleasure equal to the one that was ours that morning.
That evening I returned to my apartment alone. I had a few things to write.
However, just when I had gotten undressed, there was a loud knock oh the door. I opened it: it was, to my surprise, Teresa, dressed in a pink dressing gown with a flower in her hair.
I was still in a bad mood from what I had seen the previous night, and I took her by the arm and drew her into my room.
“So, it's you!” I cried. “Good! Now you can listen to the words I wouldn't speak to Charlotte. You're the one who's lowest of all sluts! The worst of whores! The…”
She burst out laughing and, taking the tone that a woman of thirty-six can take when speaking to a young man of twenty, she said, “I might as well have saved myself the trouble of providing you with all those adventures last night for all the thanks I get, eh? You've cornholed my three daughters and their mother; we gave ourselves in relays so that you could shoot your wad seven times in an evening, and the next day when you see me what do I get? You start calling me whore and…”
“That's because…”
“I'm not as nutty as Charlotte. I don't finger myself in front of your dick and I don't have to be called whore to make me come.”
“But…”
“And besides, I know that I'm a whore, by the cunt, the ass, and the mouth! And besides, I don't give a damn! And besides…”
There was not the slightest doubt in my mind that the words that Teresa caught on the end of her tongue were, “And besides, as far as I'm concerned, I shit on you!” There was no question about it. Therefore, the only thing that her silence could mean was that she didn't want me to put her out. I took the offensive again.
“What's this passion you four have for bring cornholed? Was it you who trained those girls to act like that? Did you give them the taste for that sort of thing?”
“What about me? Who gave it to me? Why didn't you ask that? You forget that I didn't invent women with two holes in their bodies. And I didn't give them the power to make love through both, either. You forget that before I was a mother, my child, I was a daughter.”
She laughed. She was standing all this time, one hand on her hip, and with her robe and the flower in her dark hair she looked like a woman playing Carmen on the stage.
“Whose daughter?” I asked, seated near her. No reply. She smiled and looked at me for a few moments, chewing a lock of her hair that had drifted down out of place. I couldn't tell what she was thinking about, but young men are all too disposed to think that every woman that comes along wants to sleep with them. Even when the woman happens to knock on their door at midnight, however, their plans are not always so simple. I repeated, “Daughter of whom?”
“Prick! If I say daughter of a whore will you be happy?”
“Yes.” I thought that that might make her talk.
However she continued to stare at me fixedly with the same slightly troubled smile. Then she decided.
“I was born into a family of Italian acrobats in which there were already four women: my mother and three younger sisters.
“Don't worry. They were all partially whores and very pretty. Even so, they were more lesbian than anything else. I never saw four little bitches go avid to lick each other's asses than my mother and my three aunts. Whenever they had an hour free they were always lying around naked giving it to each other, this one eating another's pussy, that one drinking it up like a polecat, the other letting it gush out so strongly that they always had a swamp in their sheets somewhere.
“As for men… I suppose you want to know why they didn't fuck? I never saw either my mother or her sisters fucking and I still don't know how I came into the world. They weren't whores like I am, but still there would be a man around from time to time. No fucking, though. Since the circus was their living, they could scarcely afford to become pregnant. The man would have, therefore, plenty to choose from for cornholing, and all asses that took pricks like ducks to water. But the front was strictly forbidden. They called that the women's side.
“Would you believe that by the time I was seven I never saw a woman make love other than by the rear and that I didn't even know what fucking was? Still I saw some real scenes! Mother and her sisters were all acrobats and double-jointed to boot, and each one of them could suck her own pussy if she wanted. But what they did most often was to bend themselves double and suck the balls of a man who was cornholing them. That was always worth a good fifty francs.”
With this she halted her story, though she had hardly begun it, took off her dressing gown and threw it on the bed. “I'm hot,” she said.
This time she wasn't wearing any slip and, so suddenly nude, she sat down defiantly on the end of the bed.
“You disgust me,” I said turning my eyes away. “Ha! Ha! Ha! But look! You're getting an erection like a horse!”
“Very clever. When you sit down completely nude on my bed, does that prove I like you?”
“There are some,” she said gayly, “who say, 'I love you' with a limp prick. But you, you hate me with a hard-on. That's much better for a woman.”
I reddened. Teresa's nudity was, in fact, irresistible to me, but I was ashamed that my physical state had made the speech that I had been mentally preparing for the last ten minutes at most impossible and at least ridiculous. And my annoyance was such that if she had decided to mock me an instant longer, I would have been unable to retain what I had to say.
But instead of making fun of my desire, she decided to exasperate it.
She locked her hands behind her head, leaving bare two black armpits, as much to show me that she wasn't going to attack me as to display her breasts to best advantage.
Then, with eyes half shut and in a low, sultry voice, she had an inspiration: she decided to mock herself-
“My knockers aren't any good. My nipples don't harden half as well as your cock,” she said.
“You don't know what you're saying! They're one of your best features.”
Seeing that I was already contradicting myself, she no longer needed to bother flattering herself, and she insisted, knowing well enough the attractiveness of her breasts to be sure that she was fighting on safe ground.
“They disgust you the least of anything about me then?” She was smiling Broadly. “Their odd shape, no doubt. Look how long and large they are. Neither apple nor pear, eh? And the ends! Do you think I could dye my hair blonde some time, and just leave these little black rosettes? These little licorice drops? These little negro-boy pick heads? Ha! Ha! Ha! Do you know why my knockers don't look like anyone else's? Because I had three kids. Even so, though, they're big and full and they're full because I didn't let the kids suck them. They got their milk from my ass…”
“Whore! Don't re — “
“Yes,” she said, interrupting me volubly, “they're whore's teats all right. And you've been sitting in front of them for fifteen minutes wanting to shoot your wad and you can't! You haven't gotten your prick between them yet, but you've been thinking about it. And the last time you came, when you had your prick in my behind, you were rubbing them with both hands, right? Did you feel them? Answer! Did you feel my whore's teats expanding?”
“Shut up! Get out of here! I don't want to see you any more! I can't forget what you did after that!”
I put my hand over my eyes so I couldn't see her any more and turned away from her on the bed. She leaped on me.
I expected it? No, it was exactly what I wasn't expecting. However, I never fooled myself either as to her desire or as to her vigor, and in a second I experienced both.
The surprise with which her leap caught me, my disadvantageous position, and above all the fear that I might hurt her all combined to put me out of the fight so quickly that I scarcely had time to discover what had happened.
“See how easy it is to violate a man?” smiled Teresa. “Whore!”
“Thanks.”
The “thanks” was another inspiration. The woman that I had seen (but I don't want to repeat here what I had so much trouble describing in the previous chapter)… This woman had the effrontery to sigh her “thanks” in a tone that also said, “You're not what I'd exactly cal a gallant gentleman.” And I was naive enough to blush, to cut short the injuries I was ready to hurl at her without realizing that she had suddenly reversed our roles.
In addition, after the sad little word that accused the slur made on her honor, Teresa continued in the same audacious voice. She seemed nervous, but she was smiling.
“You don't have to complain any more. You can fuck me. You can deflower me. You know what you call the cunt of a whore who is always cornholed and who hasn't had a prick from the front in three months? No? You call it a cherry, and you're in it now. Now don't tell me that I never fuck. Just remember that the night I raped you I did it with my pussy. Are you happy?”
She remained solidly joined to me, but immobile and refusing to allow me to move. A minute sufficed for her to see that she'd tamed me and that I wouldn't try to leave her flesh.
“What I did to Charlotte…”
“No! Don't speak of that now!”
“On the contrary! I'll speak of it now when you've got an erection. I was wrong to do all that just after you'd come for the seventh time and when you no longer felt like erecting.”
“You mean you think that if you propose that sort of thing now… But that's absurd! The more desirable you are to me the more revolting I'll find it that…”
“Take it easy. The best thing I ever did for my daughters was to make them like the whore's trade. Charlotte is as innocent as a saint. I had a whole nun's costume made for her once, wimple, rosary, and all, and everyone thought she was the real thing. I'll bet fifty men thought that they were cornholing a carmelite when they took her. So! You don't think it's something praiseworthy to have a daughter like that, to train her like a dog to make love with her rear and never to come unless her lover calls her slut? You think that I, the daughter of an acrobat, wouldn't have gotten along in the circus?”
“You're a monster of cleverness, but you've driven your daughter mad.”
“Mad because she wants to beat herself off front morning to night without hiding it? If she were reasonable she would be hiding it in some shit-house and wiping the come off her hairs with an old newspaper, eh? Shut up about that crap! She was excited last night and it was your fault. And as for what happened afterwards… What about it? She certainly said what she wanted often enough for someone to have done something about it I didn't make her do it, did I?”
“No, but…”
“And even if I'd raped her into doing it, it wouldn't have killed her would it? I'm raping you right now. I'm making you fuck me by force, and I don't hear you complaining.”
All during this scene, which seemed interminable to me, Teresa stayed on top of me and me in her. I was thinking of everything but answering her questions and, since I didn't say no to the last one, she suddenly leapt away from me with as quick a movement as the one to which I had succumbed. Then she retreated to the end of the room and laughed at my desire which she had changed into real heat without even beginning to satisfy it.
“Excuse me. I won't rape you any more!” she said.
This time I too jumped. Certain that I wasn't dealing with a weak woman, I twisted one arm behind her back and, feeling little scruple as she laughed, gave her a good dozen smacks with my fist on her left shoulder.
Afterwards, she looked at me and, in a voice joyous and youthful as well as breathless, said, “You're much nicer when you get vicious.”
And in the same gay voice she added:
“Does the gentleman like to beat his women? If the gentleman would like to slash my behind with a whip in order to get an erection, it's twenty francs more.”
I had let her see a great deal too much of my exasperated desire and she was speaking with the most cutting irony.
We fell again onto the bed; but Teresa, more agile than I, refused to let herself be cornered and defended herself much better against my virility than she had against my fist. She continued to play and was bubbling over with an extraordinary youth and vitality.
“Aha!” she said mockingly. “First you treat me like a whore and then you want to fuck me! No! No! My fine fellow! Whores don't screw, they only piss hot. Better be careful, my pretty blond, or I'll get bitchy with you.”
“Fine! Go ahead!” I said through my teeth.
“Look!” she said, still playing her role. “Look how much hair I have under my arms: I know women who don't have as much on their pussies. You want to make love to me in there? You'll come very nicely. No? Then you must want my old whore's teats?”
“Not that old saw again.”
“Look, here are my whore's teats. Stick your dick between them. I'll press them together… You like that? Do they do their job well, my whore's teats? Listen, sonny, you give me a hundred sous in advance and you can come on my face. Okay?”
“Watch out! I'll do it without warning you!”
“Or would you rather come in my mouth? It's the same price. And I'll give you a pretty little working over with my tongue all around. You like that? I'll lick your balls and your ass and suck your dick afterwards. No? Not that either? You must have religion. You must be afraid to go confess that you've come in the mouth of a woman. Well, we can always do something else. How would you like me to beat myself off, my little whoremonger?”
That did it. That was the straw on the camel's back for me, though the height of fun for Teresa.
“How would you like me to kill you?”
“Oh! That's even more expensive than beating me!” she howled in a burst of laughter.
Deciding to finish this action on the field of battle, I grabbed Teresa and started to force her thighs apart. Seriously, this time, she cried, “No! Don't fuck me!”
“Because?”
A sudden anger rose in her eyes, she seized my arms and began to shout:
“Because, here, tonight, I'm not a whore, you understand? When a woman who wants to come rubs her body against a man with a hard-on, she gives herself through “the hole that she wants! And if I get more pleasure from being cornholed, and if I want to be cornholed, then you'll cornhole me!”
The violence of her words should have made me so angry that I would never have left her any liberty of either wish or action after hearing them. However, the sorceress didn't leave me any time to think about what I might do. Her agility in movement and position were a wonder, and I soon found that, for the second time since I had met her, I was in her body I knew not where.
Immediately, she said in her most tender voice and with her softest expression, “Please don't do me the disservice of coming now.”
“It's all that you deserve.”
“So! A pretty woman gives a man her asshole and what does she get? After a minute he says, 'I'm getting out, you can finish the best way you know how.'“
“Wait a minute! About an hour ago you did” exactly the same thing to me…! I waited, but…”
“You're a love.”
Then, in the same voice, she continued:
“You disgust me.”
“Same to you.”
“Now I'll tell you why Charlotte and I…”
“No!”
“Yes! I want to tell you while I've got your prick in my ass. The truth is that… we were both hot last night. I wasn't in quite the state that she was, but… You saw didn't you?”
“Maybe.”
“And now?”
I remained silent. Then suddenly, with one of those unexpected crescendos that always announced another brutal verbal assault, she cried:
“And now can't you see that I'm as hot as a two-dollar pistol? Can't you see that I came here to rape you, that I threw off all my clothes', that I let you treat me like a whore, that I let you fuck me, that I let you beat me, and that finally I put your prick in where I wanted it and that now I'm beating off in your arms even more than Charlotte? Can't you see that? And the come that I give you… When you have more on the outside of your balls than within, will I have to tell you that I've shot my wad?”