in their path. The young woman's hair was floating freely, caressed by the warm breeze that blew at times. Tony puffed out his strong chest and offered his well-nourished musculature to nature, like a sacrifice to her beauty.
Several hours after their departure, they came in sight of the mountain, the object of their trek.
Breathless, yet happy with the walk, they rested in the complete silence of this corner of Arcadia. It was just this countryside that a Latin poet had described. They felt almost as though the flute of Pan could be heard close by, accompanying the dancing of nymphs who were bathing in the rivers that descended the mountain. They almost expected to see a satyr or a faun following a divinity of the woods, with his he-goat feet and his beard.
But all these dreams had been gone for a long time there was no one but the two young people in the immensity of nature.
Danielle had placed her head on Tony's knees. Her half-closed eyes let a ray of light filter in and closed reluctantly on the vast panorama.
Tony was caressing his wife's breasts in his joyousness. He was beginning to be excited. Anyway, this had become a habit. As soon as he had had the revelation that his cock could serve something besides the mute contemplation of his swollen parts, he had gladly adapted himself to it and desired only to introduce himself into her sheath.
The young woman let herself be soothed by the atmosphere of this lost place. The mountain with its granite force, its firmness, its insolence before human weakness, the warmth of Tony's body which she felt close to her, everything contributed to plunge her into vague reveries which made her languid.
She drew her husband's lips against her perfumed mouth and held them for a long time.
“Tony, I want you to possess me with all your strength here in this beautiful place. But do it like I taught you.”
The words had become superfluous.
Danielle unbuttoned her husband's pants, then she slipped her warm hand inside. She took out a firm object, — proud of its size, which filled the palm of her hand.
Tony was panting, feeling the flow of passion rising within him.
She had stretched out and removed her red skirt. Then, separating her thighs, she got into position. Leaning on his elbows, abdomen to abdomen, sex to sex, Tony began his male occupation.
He went in with little blows so that the heat would spread as he descended further and further into the delicate crater…
The young woman closed her eyes. She imprisoned Tony's torso with her legs like an animal in heat flushed with desire.
In a brief and fugitive vision, she remembered her first lover. She thought she could feel him inside her as he had been ten years earlier, fucking her joyfully, having suffered with desire for so long.
Then everything disappeared…
She opened her eyes again.
Her husband was still working over her. Soon their bodies shuddered. A sudden relaxation joined them as his cock spurted hotly.
They had discharged together.
A light wind had risen. The mountain, mute witness of their couplement, kept its mystery. Some birds flew around and uttered strident little cries. The two bodies were still stretched out together.
“Tony do you think our love is marvelous?”
“Yes darling! I don't know how to thank you enough! You give me such varied pleasures…”
But Danielle was lying to herself in believing that she loved her husband. What she experienced in his company was the thirst for pleasure, her need for physical possession, the satisfaction of feeling herself as the passive female forced to satisfy her conqueror.
Gradually the distant memories of her childhood came back.
She could have been able to live a calm life like her parents in the simplicity of the hills, demanding only the happiness of her peers when the villages were illuminated for the evening before the burning fires.
But even this dream had been refused her. Because her sensual nature was fixed on one goal: constant pleasure.
Yes! In place of the whore she had been, there would have been a woman with a cunt reserved exclusively for the happiness of one man, and she wouldn't have been soiled by so many males.
“But I'm not going to let myself get overly emotional about this,” she thought. “I'm spoiled. Alright! There's still room for plenty of cocks! My body will serve as a tomb for more than one bastard…
“You're so naive, my Tony,” she continued, looking at her husband who was sitting beside her. “You'll find someone else. You'll forget me! You'll see how easy it is to forget…!”
But what she didn't dare admit was the regret of not having been able to find the right path at the beginning of her life.
And now, at the beginning of her decline, which would move faster and faster, she would always be the whore, the receptacle of the human seed.
They went down the path again which led to the foot of the mountain. The evening air became fresher and fresher.
“This night will be the last that I spend here,” she thought. “Poor Tony… I'm going to cause him so much pain. But he'll console himself. I need pleasure. It's as if there were a poison in my body! I feel it burning me everywhere!
“No, my place isn't here… anyway, one man isn't enough for me. I've received the homage of too many cocks for too long for it to be otherwise! All the bastards who fucked me have marked me for life. Alright! I'll give them my ass! But I want them to fuck me to death!”
And for the last time, not wanting to act like a little girl, while the evening stretched its cloak of stars over the countryside, Danielle contemplated the serenity of this land that had seen her birth.
She turned around, letting herself be separated from her husband who was waiting for her several yards lower, then she calmly began to walk again.
But in her heart, an old stifled sob demanded to be let out.
They reached the village at the same time as a troop of sheep returning to the flock. She caressed one of them, the smallest, and in this gesture, she put everything which was still fresh in her body, all her disappointed dreams, all the nostalgia of the little girl she had once been.
Her whole past returned to her again with a suddenness which made her wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.
Then, when they were alone again, there was no longer a wife but an obsessed and unsatisfied whore…
The next day, profiting by Tony's daily work in the fields, she left surreptitiously. No one had time to notice her departure.
She piled her bags into the bus that linked the village to the city.
She disappeared in that sun-filled morning.
A bird sang its final song.
The years passed.
An old farmer, who had known Danielle before her marriage, said that he had passed a drunk girl escorted by several sailors in an African town…
“She looked strangely like her,” he added in a dreamy tone to those who surrounded him.
But perhaps he was wrong.
Destiny had been her master. She had loved, her body had been bruised on all sides…
No one could ever mean anything to her.
She had pursued her dream like so many others: the desire for the immortality of the body, the thirst for pleasure that everyone possesses, the most luxurious caresses… and the most lascivious physical ecstasies… The lucky whore.
