Letters from a Friend in Paris 27

LETTER XXVII

I write in haste, with much news to impart, but that which is most important first: I am engaged! The circumstances that surround this happy state are, however, quite peculiar-and, perhaps, not what you might have come to expect.

A few days after my last visit from Emma, the dear girl persuaded Louisa to arrange another tryst at my studio. Though alone together but for an afternoon, we were able to enjoy three glorious fucks. Kneeling on the big armchair in the corner of my studio, her petticoats swept up to reveal the small, firm, round globes of her buttocks, Emma begged me to enter her in both orifices. After a loving inspection of the two divine apertures that lay between her cheeks, I applied my stiff prick to the soft, moist lips of her cunt and here rogered her long and vigorously. I was then able to invade her rosy bottom-hole without any suffering or complaint on her part, indeed, so prolonged and copious was her spend that I feared she would go off into another swoon. After two further lively bouts, quite exhausted by love's combats, we lay with her dear, blonde head upon my breast and talked, whilst outside the first autumn rains beat upon the studio roof.

She told me of her apprehension at the arranged marriage that her father might force upon her and the prospect of suffering the misery of an unhappy nuptial bed, always longing for the carnal sweets that she had tasted with me. Her sixteenth birthday lay but two short weeks away whereupon she would be eligible for marrying off-a pretty young thing with no end of ugly or elderly suitors both rich and noble. She talked about our elopement. In short, it was Emma's dearest wish to secure me as her husband before her father could force her into an unhappy marriage. My heart grew heavy, for I knew how many stores her father set by a union that would secure Emma's social and material advancement, a position that I, being neither rich nor noble, could supply. My imagination took flight. All of a sudden I was faced with the prospect of a scandal and the full wrath of her rich and powerful father. No good could come of this, I thought, and I had no appetite for being hounded, poverty-stricken, through the courts of England and France by a vengeful patriarch.

Louisa arrived to escort poor Emma back to the convent. I rode with them in the coach and on the way back to my atelier, I confided in dear Lou the fears and forebodings that beset me, but also the love that I had acquired for my darling Emma.

'I can see why you are so taken with the dear young thing,' she replied. 'She is the sweetest of girls, but truly, she is still just a lovesick filly whose passions may blow hot or cold. Besides, your misgivings are well-founded: her father is not a man to be trifled with.'

Louisa must have seen the look of despair upon my face, for she continued,

'Don't be so downcast, for I know there is a girl who has lost her heart to you, though she would never say as much. In case you cannot guess, it is-Marguerite de Laval!'

I was thunderstruck. Lou's sound advice had opened my eyes to the folly of elopement with Emma and, in so doing, had lowered my spirits considerably. Now they soared once more when she told me of my secret admirer.

'But what are we to do about poor little Emma?' I asked.

'You need not worry on her account, for she will have ample time to pick and choose. Her father is no monster and will allow her to marry for love as well as position, of that I am sure. But you must write to her and give her a full account of your intentions-in this way she will be over it all the sooner.' This I did later and a few days hence I received a sad but sweet epistle in return.

Louisa and I had parted at the door of my studio, although not before arranging for young Mile, de Laval to be left alone with me for a time at the earliest opportunity. This was quickly arranged by our dear mutual friend; Lou and I had conspired that she should bring Marguerite to my studio under the pretext of yet another delightful orgy which, though not strictly necessary, would render the exercise more credible in the eyes of the dear young thing. I have already told you of the exquisite pleasures we three had enjoyed, and Marguerite was fully expectant of a repeat of these amorous bouts and arrived in a state of high excitement. As Louisa departed, she told us that we would be rejoined soon enough by herself and her husband.

The voluptuous Mile, de Laval wasted no time in kneeling on the big armchair in my studio and arranging her petticoats so that I could gain entry to her secret charms from behind. Once more I was privileged to be witness to her superb, out-thrust buttocks and the shaded valley that ran between them, where the charming rosette of her arsehole and delicately-haired lips of her cunt were clearly in view. And once more I was put in mind of an Indian Goddess or temple beauty. It was as if the scales had fallen from my eyes, and for the first time, I appreciated the true loveliness of this dear creature. I quickly inserted my stiff prick into her moist, pink cunt and drove it in until my belly rebounded against her bottom, and we enjoyed a delicious fuck until we achieved a mutual spend. Without changing her position, the dear girl waited for such a time as my cock had regained some of its former rigidity, then reached behind her and transferred my cock into her smaller orifice. Again we fucked in blissful harmony until I inundated her bottom with abundant jets of sperm.

After we had undressed and were quite naked, we then lay down upon my bed and had a long chat of love. Our souls seemed to be united as one, and I found her the most loving darling I had ever met with. We lay in my bed in the sweetest love converse I have ever enjoyed, in which she opened out all her soul to me and told me how she felt at the first moment of seeing me that I was her fate, that she at the very first sight of me fell deeply in love with me. All this was said with her face hidden in my bosom and I could see by the rich incarnation of her neck that she blushed deeply as she made the delightful confession. My happiness was complete and I heard myself as if in a dream, asking the dear girl to become my wife.

'Yes, my dearest Harry-oh, yes!' murmured Marguerite. 'You have made me the happiest girl in the world. I have no fortune, and only a poor dowry; indeed, the most precious thing I possess in the world is my love for you, for it is so strong and abundant.'

To celebrate our 'engagement' we opened and drank a bottle of champagne and returned to love's combats, my darling Marguerite spending three times and I twice.

Here end the letters from Harry to Charlie

Harry

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Notes;

1. During my visit to London for studies where we had an Old Ancestral Home, I stumbled on a family treasure. Apart from other things I also found a hump of books, diaries, and notes in the treasure which contained classic, Age-old, Erotic books, Novels, and Magazines probably collected by my Ancestors. They are all timeless and precious. They are a must-read for all erotica lovers.

2. The Original Authors of these Stories/Letters or Articles are long dead or Anonymous.

3. Out of the aforesaid collection, presenting an amazing account which was first published 1874, of a sexually omnivorous photographer on the prowl in Paris (probably the first such book).

4. The letters were written by a friend, Mr. Harry from Paris. Harry Hargrove, photographer. Young, beautiful women come to Harry's studio to have their portrait taken, but while there, one thing leads to another, and randy Harry's life becomes one big Parisian orgy. Before internet porn, before porn videos, before porn movies, people lusting for raunchy, X-rated entertainment read pornographic books and magazines. Victorian and Edwardian England had its own adult entertainment industry - countless erotic novels were put out by shady publishers, some books were printed by the authors themselves, and most of the writers were anonymous. Many of these 19th-century books are surprisingly kinky, and some of them may be quite offensive to modern-day readers - in more ways than one. The anonymously written "Letters from a Friend in Paris" was first published in 1874. This novel in the form of letters is a great example of classic Victorian erotica.

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