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
But now this visit of my soft, warm hand, in those so sensible parts,
had put every thing into such ungovernable fury, disdaining all further
preluding, and taking advantage of my commodious posture, he made the
storm fall where I scarce patiently expected, and where he was sure to
lay it: presently, then, I felt the stiff intersection betwen the
yielding, divided lips of the wound, now open for life; where the
narrowness no longer put me to intolerable pain, and afforded my lover
no more difficulty than what heightened his pleasure, in the strict
embrace of that tender, warm sheath, round the instrument it was so
delicately adjusted to, and which now cased home, so gorged me with
pleasure, that it perfectly suffocated me and took away my breath; then
the killing thrusts! the unnumbered kisses! every one of which was a
joy inexpressible; and that joy lost in a crowd of yet greater blisses!
But this was a disorder too violent in nature to last long: the
vessels, so stirred and intensely heated, soon boiled over, and for
that time put out the fire; meanwhile all this dalliance and disport
had so far consumed the morning, that it became a kind of necessity to
lay breakfast and dinner into one.
In our calmer intervals Charles gave the following account of himself,
every tittle of which was true. He was the only son of a father, who,
having a small post in the revenue, rather overlived his income, and
had given this young gentleman a very slender education: no profession
had he bred him up to, but designed to provide for him in the army, by
purchasing him an ensign’s commission, that is to say, provided he
could raise the money, or procure it by interest, either of which
clauses was rather to be wished than hoped for by him. On no better a
plan, however, had his improvident father suffered this youth, a youth
of great promise, to run up to the age of manhood, or near it at least,
in next to idleness; and had, besides, taken no sort of pains to give
him even the common premonitions against the vices of the town, and the
dangers of all sorts which wait the unexperienced and unwary in it. He
lived at home, and at discretion with his father, who himself kept a
mistress; and for the rest, provided Charles did not ask him for money,
he was indolently kind to him: he might lie out when he pleased, any
excuse would serve, and even his reprimands were so slight, that they
carried with them rather an air of connivance at the fault, than any
serious control or constraint. But, to supply his calls for money,
Charles, whose mother was dead, had, by her side, a grandmother, who
doated upon him. She had a considerable annuity to live on, and very
regularly parted with every shilling she could spare, to this darling
of her’s, to the no little heart-burn of his father; who was vexed, not
that she, by this means, fed his son’s extravagance, but that she
preferred Charles to himself; and we shall too soon see what a fatal
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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