Part 5 (1/2)
Before sleeping they lay apart, and Ethel, tired out as she was, speedily sank into a refres.h.i.+ng slumber.
She dreamt that every portion of her body was pervaded by the most delicious sensations, but could not conceive the cause, and when she awoke in the morning was surprised to find one of Minette's hands between her thighs, whilst another rested on her little b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
Her companion was asleep, or pretended to be so, and was entirely uncovered, the bed-clothes having slipped off. She was lying on her back, her legs widely extended, and her c.u.n.t moist, slightly open and occasionally twitching with a spasmodic throb, whilst she sighed gently and smiled in her sleep.
Ethel was possessed by a nameless sensation, and actuated by curiosity, ventured to look closer at the full-blown c.u.n.t, which seemed to rivet her gaze, and saw a little fleshy lump protruding from between the luscious-looking vermillion lips.
Struck with amazement, as she herself had nothing of the kind, she touched it gently with her fingers. It throbbed, and Minette sighed slightly, and said, in a kind of subdued whisper, ”Oh, do go on, rub your finger about, my darling Clara, it is so exquisite!”
She was evidently asleep, and imagined someone else was with her.
Ethel, hardly knowing what she was about, commenced to rub the little lump, and was surprised still more to find that Minette moved uneasily, opening and shutting her legs, till at last she heard a profound sigh, and Minette lay motionless.
Ethel felt a strange throbbing, and her finger was immediately wetted with a warm gush of thick creamy glutinous something which was emitted from the c.u.n.t of her bedfellow.
This so affected her that she withdrew her finger, and lay apart from her companion again.
Presently the sleeper awoke, and they dressed, Minette again insisting on various squeezings and fondlings, which now produced on Ethel a most strange effect, perfectly incomprehensible to her, whilst Minette seemed also intensely excited.
However, they descended to breakfast without any further adventure, except that another pupil, Mademoiselle Rosalie, a frolicsome blonde, handed Ethel on the sly a piece of poetry in English, which she pretended she could not read herself but which might perhaps interest ”la belle Anglaise.”
Ethel put the printed slip away in her bosom, and afterwards read at her leisure as follows, a very comical parody:
PITY THE SORROWS
(Parody on Pratt's ”Pity the Sorrows of a Poor Old Man,” Annual Register 1770, page 222)
Pity the sorrows of a fat young wife, Whose youth and vigour make her pine the more!
Whose bounding pulse with hot desire is rife, O give relief, and heaven shall bless your store!
These rosy cheeks, my bursting youth bespeak, These beaming eyes proclaim my ardent quim, But O! my husband is so cold and weak, I might be dead, and buried too, for him!
My widow'd sister Mary pines like me, But while he liv'd, her husband was a man!
My married sister Lucy smiles to see, How oft I'm baffled since my hopes began!
I will not, cannot tell, for very shame, All that is wanting to the married state, To be a wife in nothing but the name, Is a most wretched, miserable fate!
Though chaste in heart, and willing to be chaste, What virtue can withstand the waltz's whirl?
Tom, Jack, or Harry's arm about my waist, Belly to belly throbbing, boy with girl!
To sup on partridges and to drink champagne, Stirs my hot blood to fever's ardent glow, And then the waltzing round and round again, Drives me quite mad! O what, what can I do?