Memoirs of Fanny Hill: A New and Genuine Edition from the Original Text (London, 1749)Cleland, John
General
Memoirs of Fanny Hill: A New and Genuine Edition from the Original Text (London, 1749)
Cleland, John
England -- Fiction; Erotic fiction; Prostitutes -- Fiction
In the mean time, if I may judge from my own experience, none are
better paid, or better treated, during their reign, than the mistress
of those who, enervate by nature, debaucheries, or age, have the least
employment for the sex: sensible that a woman must be satisfied some
way, they ply her with a thousand little tender attentions, presents,
caresses, confidences, and exhaust their inventions in means and
devices to make up for the capital deficiency; and even towards
lessening that, what arts, what modes, what refinements of pleasure
have they not recourse to, to raise their languid powers, and press
nature into the service of their sensuality? But here is their
misfortune, that when by a course of teasing, worrying, handling,
wanton postures, lascivious motions, they have at length accomplished a
flashy enervate enjoyment, they at the same time light up a flame in
the object of their passion, that, not having the means themselves to
quench, drives her for relief into the next person’s arms, who can
finish their work; and thus they become bawds to some favourite, tried
and approved of, for a more vigorous and satisfactory execution; for
with women, of our turn especially, however well our hearts may be
disposed, there is a controlling part, or queen-seat in us, that
governs itself by its own maxims of state, amongst which not one is
stronger, in practice with it, than, in the matter of is dues, never to
accept the will for the deed.
Mr. Norbert, who was much in this ungracious case, though he professed
to like me extremely, could but seldom consummate the main-joy itself
with me, without such a length and variety of preparations, as were at
once wearisome and inflammatory.
Sometimes he would strip me stark naked on a carpet, by a good fire,
when he would contemplate me almost by the hour, disposing me in all
the figures and attitudes of body that it was susceptible of being
viewed in; kissing me in every part, the most secret and critical one
so far from excepted that it received most of that branch of homage.
Then his touches were so exquisitely wanton, so luxuriously diffused
and penetrative at times, that he had made me perfectly rage with
titillating fires, when, after all, and much ado, he had gained a
short-lived erection, he would perhaps melt it away in a washy sweat,
or a premature abortive effusion, that provokingly mocked my eager
desires: or, if carried home, how faultered and unnervous the
execution! how insufficient the sprinkle of a few heat-drops to
extinguish all the flames he had kindled!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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