She had let her intended deflower her and since that initiation had given her pretty blond cunt an absolute minimum of rest. When not at work on one or the other of these three projects, I would poke my prick between Conquette Ingenue' s tightly squeezed thighs and she, feeling that uncomfortable presence, would seize it, sound asleep as she was, and cause me a spectacular discharge. She had caught the drift of things and started to chatter about them: we sent her away to learn a trade. She learned to draw. At the end of a two year absence she returned to the house, where I had been left alone since my wife' s death. Conquette Ingenue slept in a small room adjacent to mine. She was a tall, handsomely formed girl with perfect feet. I had the cleverest artisan in the quarter make her shoes modeled after her mother' s last which were also that of the Marquise de Marigny. Then I fell head over heels in love with the creature. But never was anyone more chastely virtuous than that heavenly girl, although her mothers, real or supposed, had been a pair of sluts and had both succumbed to the pox. Conquette Ingenue would not tolerate insolent behavior and there was no possible way of taking liberties with her. Fate doubtless willed it that her austerity would only make her the more voluptuous and the more desirable.

And so I found myself reduced to virtual beggardom: there was nothing for it, and I continued to tongue her during her sleep which, happily, was invariably profound. Directly she began to slumber I would fly to my post, lift her nightgown, gaze worshipfully at her delicious cunt, which a faint growth of down was beginning to cover, and ply my mouth with caution. Not before the tenth night after her return home did I sense her respond to these attentions; I redoubled my tongue' s activity and was rewarded by an emission. The light was out when Ingenue awoke, sighing and moaning happily.