went away; my husband showed him out and returned to the room. I know not what instinct warned me that F. had not left the house! I got up, with some excuse that seemed all the more reasonable as the visitor was keeping up a technical conversation with my husband, and went into the vestibule. I was not mistaken; F., seeing no servants about, was waiting by the street-door.

As soon as he saw me, he threw himself upon me, clasped me in his arms and with violent passion exclaimed: "Darling angel, how I suffer!"

"And I?…"

We were once again between the double doors. Before I knew where I was, our mouths were glued together, my petticoats were up to my navel, his finger pushed itself into my burning slit, that opened beneath its pressure. My hand had seized the darling object.

What more can I say? In a second or two — a few movements of our hands took place — I swooned with joy, and drew away my hand, bathed all over with an abundance of the warm liquid.

Yet a few moments went by without our being able to meet, till at last a happy moment of liberty was granted to us.

A whole hour was ours.

Ah, how we profited by it! My lover came into my boudoir.

I rushed to receive him, and I devoured him with caresses.

"Let us do it quickly," we both exclaimed together, "let us enjoy to the utmost our secret happiness."

I tore myself from him, pulled up my clothes behind, and, getting onto the sofa on my knees, presented my bottom.

He put it in at once, and I very soon swooned beneath his copious discharge.

We then sat down, but my lover was not satisfied, and despite my fears I could not refuse. He went on his knees between my legs, then he made me stretch wide apart. I took his vigorous firebrand in my hand; it was already as hard as ever. I stroked it a second, then pushed it gradually into myself, while I savoured slowly the delightful pleasure.