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
When our mutual trance was a little over, and the young fellow had
withdrawn that delicious stretcher, with which he had most plentifully
drowned all thoughts of revenge, in the sense of actual pleasure, the
widened wounded passage refunded a stream of pearly liquids, which
flowed down my thighs, mixed with streaks of blood, the marks of the
ravage of that monstrous machine of his, which had now triumphed over a
kind of second maidenhead. I stole, however, my handkerchief to those
parts, and wiped them as dry as I could, whilst he was re-adjusting and
buttoning up.
I made him sit down by me, and as he had gathered courage from such
extreme intimacy, he gave me an aftercourse of pleasure, in a natural
burst of tender gratitude and joy, at the new scenes of bliss I had
opened to him: scenes positively new, as he had never before had the
least acquaintance with that mysterious mark, the cloven stamp of
female distinction, though nobody better qualified than he to penetrate
into its deepest recesses, or do it nobler justice. But when, by
certain motions, certain unquietness of his hands, that wandered not
without design, I found he languished for satisfying a curiosity,
natural enough, to view and handle those parts which attract and
concenter the warmest force of imagination, charmed, as I was, to have
any occasion of obliging and humouring his young desires, I suffered
him to proceed as he pleased, without check or control, to the
satisfaction of them.
Easily, then, reading in my eyes the full permission of myself to all
his wishes, he scarce pleased himself more than me; when, having
insinuated his hand under my petticoat and shift, he presently removed
those bars to the sight, by slily lifting them upwards, under favour of
a thousand kisses, which he thought, perhaps, necessary to divert my
attention from what he was about. All my drapery being now rolled up to
my waist, I threw myself into such a posture upon the couch, as gave up
to him, in full view, the whole region of delight, and all the
luxurious landscape around it. The transported youth devoured every
thing with his eyes, and tried, with his fingers, to lay more open to
his sight the secrets of that dark and delicious deep: he opens the
folding lips, the softness of which, yielding entry to any thing of a
hard body, close round it, and oppose the sight; and feeling further,
meets with, and wonder at, a soft fleshy excrescence, which, limber and
relaxed after the late enjoyment, now grew, under the touch and
examination of his fiery fingers, more and more stiff and considerable,
till the titillating ardours of that so sensible part made me sigh, as
if he had hurt me; on which he withdrew his curious probing fingers,
asking me pardon, as it were, in a kiss that rather increased the flame
there.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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