Phileas Fogg - A Memoir Pt. 24

And Passepartout's famous family watch, which had always kept London time, would have betrayed this fact, if it had marked the days as well as the hours and the minutes!

Phileas Fogg, then, had won the twenty thousand pounds; but, as he had spent nearly nineteen thousand on the way, the pecuniary gain was small. His object was, however, to be victorious, and not to win money. He divided the one thousand pounds that remained between Passepartout and the unfortunate Fix, against whom he cherished no grudge. He deducted, however, from Passepartout's share the cost of the gas which had burned in his room for nineteen hundred and twenty hours, for the sake of regularity.

That evening, Mr. Fogg, as tranquil and phlegmatic as ever, said to Aouda: "Is our marriage still agreeable to you?"

"Mr. Fogg," replied she, "it is for me to ask that question. You were ruined, but now you are rich again."

"Pardon me, madam; my fortune belongs to you. If you had not suggested our marriage, my servant would not have gone to the Reverend Samuel Wilson's, I should not have been apprised of my error, and—"

"Dear Mr. Fogg!" said the young woman.

"Dear Aouda!" replied Phileas Fogg.

It need not be said that the marriage took place forty-eight hours after, and that Passepartout, glowing and dazzling, gave the bride away. Had he not saved her, and was he not entitled to this honour?

The next day, as soon as it was light, Passepartout rapped vigorously at his master's door. Mr. Fogg opened it, and asked, "What's the matter, Passepartout?"

"What is it, sir? Why, I've just this instant found out—"

"What?"

"That we might have made the tour of the world in only seventy-eight days."

"No doubt," returned Mr. Fogg, "by not crossing India. But if I had not crossed India, I should not have saved Aouda; she would not have been my wife, and—"

Mr. Fogg quietly shut the door.

Phileas Fogg had won his wager, and had made his journey around the world in eighty days. To do this he had employed every means of conveyance—steamers, railways, carriages, yachts, trading-vessels, sledges, elephants. The eccentric gentleman had throughout displayed all his marvelous qualities of coolness and exactitude. But what then? What had he really gained by all this trouble? What had he brought back from this long and weary journey?

Nothing, say you? Perhaps so; nothing but a charming woman, who, strange as it may appear, made him the happiest of men!

Truly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the world?

The End

Of Jules Verne's Novel,

But the Finale is still to come from the Memoirs . . .

~ The Finale ~

London was agog at the news of Fogg's accomplishment. Queen Victoria, on learning that he had risked everything, sent an emissary to Fogg's residence to request that he present himself, Aouda and Passepartout at court.

When the emissary learned of the forthcoming marriage, he rushed back to her majesty with the news. Queen Victoria declared that they should wed at Westminster Abby a week hence, with royal flourishes and pageantry.

The elated trio of lovers was still digesting this news, when the door knocker sounded three times. Passepartout answered and to his delight, found his former lover, Madame Bentley standing there, a beaming smile upon her face. She quickly embraced Passepartout, then Phileas, and lastly took in Aouda before clasping the young woman in her arms as well.

Fogg explained things to the confused Aouda, who rapidly found herself drawn to the older Mrs. Bentley. They became friends quickly over tea, and when Madame

Bentley asked if she could have a moment with Passepartout, Phileas and Aouda withdrew to the library, leaving the servant alone with Madame Bentley.

"Have you missed me, my love?" Eunice coyly inquired of Passepartout.

"Yes, of course . . . but you know . . ."

Eunice pressed her lips to his, and the thrilling sensation of her warm, moist lips was such that he forgot what he was about to say. He hardly noticed her hand creeping along his trousers until she was holding him tightly in her fist.

"Oh, you poor, poor man, you're so hard. Here, let me ease the tension a little for you," she murmured.

With a deft well placed shove, she had Passepartout prone on the divan, and before he could manage a protest of any kind, she was undoing the buttons of his trousers and had withdrawn his straining prick.

Passepartout groaned as Mrs. Bentley laid a soft kiss on the very tip of his manhood, and then drew her delicate little fist up and down upon it.

"It's terribly hard and oh, so hot," she murmured, her voice dripping with lasciviousness.

Passepartout groaned again, "You don't understand . . ." he began, but shut up as his old lover accelerated her stroking. She felt his shaft pulse in her hand, and a drop of clear liquid appeared on the purple tip. The widow's pink tongue darted out, sampled the pearly substance oozing forth from his prick, and as he groaned even louder than before, lowered her hot mouth onto his tool, exerting a profound suction upon him. Passepartout's hips bucked uncontrollably, as the sensations became intolerably exquisite.

*****

In the library, Aouda, on hearing Passepartout's moaning, knelt down before Fogg and looking up at him with doe like eyes, silently beseeched him for permission to continue. He nodded his assent, and she rapidly withdrew his prick from within its tight confinement and took him into her mouth, sucking reverently upon his steel-like rod.

*****

A moment later, Passepartout was spending in Mrs. Bentley's eagerly sucking mouth, and then, panting heavily, he collapsed on the divan.

After a few moments, the happy widow ceased her gentle suckling and lifted her head, revealing a few drops of semen clinging to her chin like a courtesan's mole.

"There, I've been longing to taste that lovely prick of yours ever since you left to go on that daft trip around the world." A shimmering merriment flittered across her eyes, and then she added, "In a little while, if you want, I'll take you on another, different, trip around the world."

"Oh, I'd like that; yes, I would like that, Eunice, but . . ."

"Hush up, and put that marvelous thing away before they come back and join us, darling."

*****

Back in the library, Aouda gazed at Fogg's tumescence as it hovered mere inches from her moist lips. Clad now only in her stays and stockings, she revealed a broad expanse of curls at the bottom of her dusky belly. Somehow, she found herself highly aroused at the thought of her second lover, Passepartout, being seduced in the very next room. She was not in the least bit jealous, in fact she wished it were possible to observe the goings on in there, and realized how much she truly loved both of these men-- wanted both of them.

She ran her finger through the curls for a moment, then placed her stocking'd foot on Fogg's heaving chest, exposing the rosy folds of her cunt to his hungry eyes. The sharp, intoxicating smell of her desire reached his nostrils and somehow this made his rigid member increase its already huge engorgement.

Aouda leaned over him, allowing her heavy breasts to sway wildly as she twisted her torso from side to side, transforming herself into a sexual goddess before his very eyes. Laughing seductively, she moved away from him to perch upon the large table in the center of the room. Carefully, sensuously, she rolled off each stocking; the movements tantalizing Fogg with glimpses of pink flesh between the thickly haired grotto between her plump thighs.

With a forlorn cry, Fogg covered her with burning kisses, Aouda's eyes shut tightly and she seemed to melt and become part of him. Then with knees between her thighs, he was soon well into her. And the interplay became fiercer and fiercer, until she brought him to that crisis that found him spending deep inside her.

*****

Passepartout and Eunice had not recovered from their blissful trance when the others came in and gleefully slapped them both on the backsides, reviving everyone's lust once again. It was decided to change partners, and Phileas lay with Eunice on one side of the sumptuous bed and Passepartout and Aouda on the other.

Passepartout was fully recovered and lodged the head of his prick between the lips of Aouda's cunt titillating her for several moments by rubbing it back and forth until she was moaning excitedly. Then he slowly drove his prong into her, so slowly that it was a full minute before he was fully in, stretching her cunt to its fullest extent.

Both Phileas and Eunice took time to watch the others coupling before starting their own sexual play.

"Ah, my dear Aouda, your deliciously tight cunt is bestowing such exquisite pleasures upon me," Passepartout sighed, then took her stiffened nipple between his teeth and worried it.

On the other side of the bed, Eunice had her rump pointed toward the ceiling and Fogg was soon up to the hilt in her fine arse. An arse he had sorely missed during the long trek about the world. Eunice held her position as he began to thrust harder and harder, panting with the effort.

Aouda, spying her future husband's proclivity for anal delight, called to Passepartout to "deflower my bung!" She clambered up onto all fours beside him, turning herself about so that her bottom was a mere foot away from his face, her plump little toes resting against his trembling thigh. With one hand, she pulled aside one of her fleshy bottom cheeks, exposing the delicate trail of fine hair that ran between, punctuated at its base by an elegant pink bud.

"See my bung hole? She tittered excitedly. She then peeked over her shoulder at Passepartout and found him gazing enraptured at her second most secret part.

"Well?" She inquired.

"Exquisite, my princess, he murmured, far beyond any pretense.

*****

Meanwhile, Eunice was rolling her hips and screeching, "Oh, Lord, that feels good!"

"Did your husband fuck your arse often?" Fogg inquired as he paused in mid-thrust.

"Yes, every other time, I would venture to say. I love getting my ass fucked."

"I'm surprised that I never inquired before, I love nothing better than a good ass fuck."

"You'll get no complaints from me, Mr. Fogg, you fill my arse wonderfully!"

*****

Passepartout began his conquest of Aouda's arse with a gently massage of her anus with his fingers; working his middle finger slowly past her tight sphincter.

"Oh, yes, play with that," she cooed. "Small circles . . . YES!"

Then Aouda surprised the Frenchman, taking his finger from her arse and putting it into her mouth and sucking it. Moments later, she smiled and gave the finger back.

"What's wrong?" Passepartout asked with some alarm, for he was concerned that he might have offended her.

"Nothing's wrong my love," she purred with a benevolent smile. "I must empty my bladder. Is the chamber pot nearby?"

Yes, over in the corner," he told her as Aouda rose from the bed and strode to the chamber pot.

Eunice and Fogg were kissing and if they felt Aouda leaving, or heard her ask about the chamber pot they gave no indication.

Passepartout on the other hand leaned on his elbow and watched as the lovely Indian princess squatted over the pot and let loose a strong, stream of urine. Finished, she wiped herself dry with a cloth left there for that purpose.

Passepartout joined her, saying, "I need to go too."

He stood over the chamber pot, and started to piss. Aouda made a strange sound, snagged his prick and put her mouth before it, drinking his urine. What she didn't capture flowed out of her mouth and down over her breasts. Passepartout, embossed by her actions, glanced over at the bed and found both Eunice and Fogg looking on with stunned expressions on their faces.

Passepartout was breathing hard. The sounds Aouda was making as she gulped down his urine caused him to grow harder still, and soon he was no longer capable of urinating.

Aouda pressed her face to his leg. "Passepartout," she moaned, "I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. Its part of a ritual in my country for the bride to do this and the women train the young girls in such matters."

"I love you no matter what," Passepartout whispered as he drew her to her feet and kissed her, the taste of his urine on her lips and tongue registered, but he care not a whit about it. He did love this woman.

"You are so hard," Aouda hissed happily as she squeezed the last remnants of urine from his rock-hard member into the chamber pot, "Come, let us get back on the bed."

*****

Fogg and Eunice renewed their arse fuck without comment on what they had just witnessed. By this point, he had his entire length inside her and I paused to let Eunice feel the fullness of it. On hearing her moan of contentment, he eased back out, until only the cockhead remained inside. When Mrs. Bentley shivered and moaned again at the loss of his prick, Fogg promptly reversed course. His initial thrusts were slow, permitting her to savor the thrill of sensations as he filled her being with his shaft. But he continued to increase the pace until he was fucking her with long hard deep strokes.

"Oh, fuck me faster, I'm going to spend!" she howled.

Fogg responded with alacrity, doubling the speed of his thrusts, unaware that Eunice had thrust two fingers of her right hand into her cunt; unaware, that is, until he felt the fingers moving in tandem with his thrusting. Mrs. Bentley's course of action caused her bowels to tighten even more about his pummeling prick, and Fogg was forced to grab her hips so as to remain deep within her rectum while he spewed his seed into her bottom.

As for Mrs. Bentley, she found herself on fire, whipping her head back and forth, and side to side, all the while her entire torso shook spasmodically.

Aouda, impaled as the moment on two of Passepartout's fingers, flinched with alarm as Eunice's arms flailed about, her breasts swinging wildly to and fro as her orgasm leapt upon her and took demon-like possession of her heart and soul.

Fogg lurched forward -- then held himself in check as he continued to empty his sacs of a copious amount of semen. As for Eunice, she would later regale the others with a tale of seeing a thousand white stars filling her head before collapsing in a heap under Fogg's suddenly unbearable weight.

*****

Passepartout added a third finger to Aouda's arse, gradually succeeding in stretching her bottom to allow his well endowed prick entrée. Once he had all three fingers sluicing into her, Aouda mewed and began rocking back against his hand, signaling him that she felt ready to accommodate his slick member. He wore a slight grimace upon his face as he smeared some of her cunt juice on his manhood, and placed his cockhead against her puckered rosette.

Aouda stiffened as he pressed against the sacred entrance and he paused, waiting for his love to relax. She buried her face into a pillow, and after a few breaths, he renewed his efforts and pressed again, and found his prick easing into her tight arse about and inch or so. Having some experience in this form of love making, Passepartout maneuvered his lengthy member into her back passage slowly, holding Aouda still and rocking his prick in and out while ignoring her muffled protests.

Eventually, he felt her arse quiver as it seemingly tightened its grip about his weapon. Passepartout held Aouda's hips and built up a rhythmic pace, propelling himself ever deeper with each inward plunge.

He discovered the feeling around his member was different from when he fucked her cunt. Whereas her pussy was slick and hot, expanding to allow him easy entrance, her arse was tight, grasping and clutching at his prick. The increased friction slowly drove him wild. In short order, he was close to erupting inside her.

Ever the Frenchman, Passepartout rotated his hips as he pressed his scrotum firmly against her rump.

"Unnggghhh!" Aouda groaned loudly.

"Did I hurt you?" Passepartout called out concernedly.

"No, no. God, I love this!"

"Then let's try something a little better," he suggested, and the more than willing Aouda allowed him to rearrange her so that her legs were now on his shoulders. Both Fogg and Eunice looked on enthralled by the frenzied activity beside them.

Passepartout needed no help finding his way back into her backside. Slithering deep inside her; heard her respond, "Ahhh, this . . . this is good!'

"I can kiss you," he said, and did.

"Kiss me more."

He did.

"Fuck me harder. Is that possible?"

Passepartout surged into action, his testicles slapped repeatedly against her swollen cunt lips as their bodies meshed and parted. He was unable to contain himself, his balls tightened, and then he was coming, sending a spray of hot, thick, sperm into her writhing arse. They groaned in unison as Aouda's climax swept over her too. The maddening release both had sought had arrived at last.

Perhaps a minute passed, and then Eunice spoke. "That sterling performance deserves a bravo at the very least, don't you agree, Phileas?"

"Bravo!" Fogg croaked, as he trailed his fingertips along the base of Eunice's spine, causing her to giggle. Aouda propped herself up on one arm and smiled at both men. Passepartout's shrinking prick slid from Aouda's arse with a soft pop and suddenly everyone was laughing and a furious bout of tickling ensued with one sweaty body entwined with another.

*****

Eventually Fogg left the bed and brought everyone a glass of port. He sat cross-legged on the bed. Eunice leaned against Passepartout and Aouda lay on her stomach looking up at Fogg's face.

"Cheers, everyone!" Phileas offered, and the others responded in kind. "We need to discuss our future and there's no time like the present," he said after swallowing a third of his port.

"What do you have in mind, Master?" Passepartout inquired. Eunice licked her lips apprehensively. Aouda waited patiently. Obviously anything her future husband wanted to do was fine with her. It was her duty to obey him, according to her traditional custom.

"I don't know how to put this matter delicately, and so I will plunge on. If anyone disagrees, well I will accept it. After all, what I'm about to suggest may not be agreeable to you and I quite understand. I'm rambling on, I know, but bear with me, please; this is not an easy matter."

"The Queen wishes Aouda and I to wed a week hence. The fact of the matter is that both Passepartout and I love her equally. It is not, in my opinion, a case of the better man winning her hand, for I firmly believe that Passepartout is a far better man than I."

"No! Master! No! This is not true. I am your humble servant. You must marry the princess!" Passepartout exclaimed.

"Please hear me out, my dear friend," Fogg said quietly.

"Yes, of course, Master," the Frenchman said in an even lower voice.

"What I propose is this: Up to now we have ignored the lovely Mrs. Bentley . . . Eunice, if you will. Speaking for myself, I am very fond of you, my dear. We have been lovers for a long time, perhaps longer than either of us wishes to admit. You have told me in confidence that you care greatly for my faithful servant and friend, Passepartout."

Eunice, now crying openly, nodded her agreement to his words. Aouda was carefully studying each face in turn, trying to read their thoughts.

Fogg continued. "I think the four of us can live together in harmony and happiness. We love each other, why not continue on, sharing our women. I mean to say, that why don't you two," he gestured to Passepartout and Eunice, "get married as well? We can all live under this roof and be free from the scrutiny and suspicions of others. Further . . ."