And she came, not like many ignorant women who make love in the dark, but in the bright light, irradiating her skin with tiny red spots.
To come! That is the goal that nature has assigned us in life.
We need thighs, long cocks to penetrate gaping cavities, so that life can pursue its path toward future generations which will take up the torch of satisfied love.
Then that lascivious, obsessed female, confident in the wiseness of the Creator who must laugh at the rigidity of human principles, regained her destructive role of profane beauty.
Remorse had never tormented her nor made her think about her ruined life.
Danielle was not the only one like that. But unlike the others who hid themselves to perpetrate the worst vileness that good sense often condemns, she offered herself to the country air to let herself dream and satisfy her vice.
And slowly, released from social contingencies, she began to hope for that life she had chosen for herself again.
To her, her husband was the man who satisfied her body, and if she was overcome by some morose thoughts from time to time, she quickly chased them away to keep from remembering the frightful pricks that had initiated her into the most degrading turpitudes. Thus to her, an act of sodomy represented only the curiosity of her nature which was always in quest of the unknown. And no one could have forbidden her those things if experience had confirmed the splendor of those bizarre positions.
So this woman, this whore inflamed by the desires of the body, sang the refrains of former times in the light air of the fields, and they were sent back to her with the echo of a long laugh of fatigue which was exhaled under the blue country sky… then, as every day, when the sun disappeared on the horizon over the house where she lived with her husband, she slowly walked back again to kneel at the window and dream of the eternal waiting that left her unsatisfied until the moment when the male hand would rest on her hip, trembling with passion.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Splendid days alternating with foggy ones passed over the love of the two young people.
While her husband was busy working in the fields, Danielle loved to wander through the grassy paths listening to the hum of the insects in the warm grass, often stopping to look at the countryside bathed in a wonderful light. She couldn't take her eyes off that country where everything brought back the memories of her candid childhood.
How far away that time of innocence was!
Sometimes she thought she heard the voices of her parents, who now slept peacefully in the little village cemetery.
As soon as she was home with her husband again, who took her in his arms, a certain nostalgia would penetrate her without her even knowing the state of mind she was in and, as if the mute things which prowled around were melting inside her body, she heard the call of her childhood.
The promises she had made herself to live happily with her golden dreams had been annihilated under the unclean passions that had swallowed her up.
How many nights of stupor and madness had she spent giving her whore's body, offering that corner of her body to lascivious males?
Like a leaf swept by the passing winds, she had been touched, soiled, and now the vivifying wind of the country smelled of the perfumed prairies, murmuring a rebirth of her young years.
It was too late to live like that.
“Yes,” she thought, “I could have had a home and children like the others. Of course I wouldn't have known life, but my ignorance would have prevented me from being a…”
She was afraid of thinking the word whore. But she had been a whore!
And not just like those sluts who opened their mealy mouths, with their breasts falling down over their navels and a cracked skin as if all the foetuses of the world had been inside them, but a receptacle for human ordure, a gaping cavity where all the vomit of the world had been poured…
She often wished she could forget the memory of those ten years of forbidden passion. But the more she tried to chase away the visions that obsessed her, the more they came back! When she slept beside her husband, she had terrible dreams.
She was struggling against huge virile members that foraged all over her, hairy heads that leaned over her and bloody lips full of saliva that forced their way over her mouth, red feverish tongues that almost choked her.
And the dreams continued.
There were androgynes with swollen abdomens, male organs and the breasts of a woman, who sneered as they caressed her contracted body…
Then she would wake up, damp with sweat, her eyes wild, and she would find her husband lying at her side, his flaccid cock pressed against her buttocks.
This melancholy which plagued her, rising from her lascivious being… this physical obsession which she could not chase from her mind, made her see through all the vicissitudes of her existence and the happiness to which she could never submit.
She would cry to herself as she touched her cunt where she could still feel the indelible traces of her innumerable lovers.
“I don't have the right to pursue this dream of love and youth! No…! Life has caught me in its cogwheels. I must leave here before it's too late.”
And everything spoke this same language. There was no room for this whore in the simplicity of country ways.
She realized the inanity of the destiny she had made for herself. Nothing could ever interest her. She had to submit to the bondage of her sensual nature.
Poor Tony. He at least had kept the purity of his intentions despite his wife's depravity. Yes… he loved her… like a madman! Without ignoring his life in the village, however.
He didn't reproach her for anything. He hadn't even been surprised by her skill in love-making. She had been the initiator.
He felt a gratitude toward her for having revealed the positions of love to him and he lived only for her, for her body, for her cunt which had been filled with semen other than his.
When they possessed one another with a studied roughness, it was like a wild assault which made them come quickly, clinging to each other's sweating bodies.
And, having filled his young wife's body with the blind force of the powerful male, he contemplated her as she lay back fatigued and satisfied, still smiling at him through half-closed eyes weighed down by sleep.
Danielle could no longer stand this stifling atmosphere. One day, around the end of summer, when the last rays of the sun were still lighting the prairies, she suggested to her husband that they take a walk.
“You know, Tony, I'd give anything to go back to the place where I often went when I was a child.”
He was only too happy to follow her. They started off arm in arm, breathing the vivifying air from the hills. In the distance, the mountain stretched its imposing mass.
The young woman, felt as though it were ten years earlier.
She had taken this path with… No! She must push that idea away. She mustn't think of her first lover. Nothing could exist now of that indelible trace which stained her cunt.
The path continued with sudden turns. They stopped at times to contemplate the countryside that lay behind them. Arms around each other's waists, they looked at the magnificent panorama which became shaded in an opaque mist as they walked higher and higher.
She pointed in the directions of a protuberant knoll.
“Look, Tony… that's where I often came. I remember everything. One day my father sent me to look for some stray animals… I found them here. Look…!”
She showed him a grassy prairie. They were holding hands, helping each other climb the little rocks that rose
