Eveline

'My Eveline! My darling! My child!'

He toyed with my breasts. He sucked the rosy little nipples. I tickled his big balls and caressed the limb already stiff and swollen with desire.

'Is my dear papa happy now? Does his little Eveline give him pleasure?'

His breath was agitated-his sighs, his kisses, hot and voluptuous, all denoted his condition. He rose on me. His manly body pressed my light young form. I threw my soft arms around his neck. Our tongues met. Mine slipped between his lips. I opened my thighs to him. The stiff limb pressed open my little parts. He bore in-into my belly.

'Oh, my love, my dearest papa! You make me suffer!'

'My beautiful darling! I must-I will!'

His large limb bore upwards. It slipped entirely into me. He was having me to his heart's content. During the act our tongues met again. He writhed on my body. He raised his head. He paused.

'My Eveline! Dearest girl! I am afraid to finish!'

'Have no fear, my dear papa. You are killing your little Eveline with pleasure. Let it come! Give it to me- all!'

He thrust his limb in to the balls. I felt it at my womb. He discharged violently. I felt the thrill-the spasms, with which his seed flew into me. My own sensations were celestial. He was giving me the essence of my being. I felt bathed in it. At length we slept. It was still early morning when we woke.

'Let us play a little before we get up. Be my stallion, dear papa, and I will be your little mare.'

I rose on my hands and knees in the bed. He raised my chemise. He passed his palm over my plump posterior. He toyed a moment with my buttocks. He slapped them. He caressed them. Finally he kissed them.

Then he pressed down on me. I felt the stiff insertion of his parts. The knob passed in. He bore furiously up me. His balls beat against my thighs. I could hardly bear his weight. His thrusts drove me forward. My head was buried in the pillows. At last it came. He seized me round the loins. I felt the hot sperm spurting into me with each vibration of his body. He clasped me tight until he had done. We lay some time motionless in the dull torpor which succeeds gratified desire.

By degrees our spirits revived. We talked in a low voice of the subject of our secret connection. There were many things on which I wanted information. I asked many questions relating to the conjunction and the functions of the two sexes, which interested me mightily.

'You ask me what is the spasm which you experience and whether women have seed like men-I will tell you. The first is the crisis of a nervous irritation which is set up partly from outside caress and actual friction, and partly from the imagination acting on the orgasm. Both unite to set in motion the nerves which serve the glands containing the fluid. Women have no seed, properly speaking, and that secretion which they produce has no direct effect in the process of generation. These glands closely resemble those of the throat which are called salivary glands. If you observe a ripe peach, a fine pear, or experience a strong desire for any food towards which your attention is directed, these glands act instantly and sympathetically. You say your mouth 'waters' for the thing. The cause and the effect are exactly similar in those glands which secrete the fluid you possess.'

'But what purpose does it answer then, if it does nothing towards procreation?'

'There, you go too fast, my child. I do not say it does nothing. On the contrary it may-and probably does-do more than is supposed. What I mean is that it has no absolute necessity in the act of generation, because it is well known that conception is obtained without it. It operates, however, indirectly in preparing the way for the conjunction of the sexes. It takes exactly the part of the salivary glands which enable you to swallow, only that its influence is employed in another direction. These glands can act upon occasion abnormally and without actual contact as we know in the instance of nocturnal emission while dreaming. I have also shown you how the imagination can excite them to secretion on the part of the female. This is an obvious advantage to the performance of the act of generation. In this sense the glands of the female act in the success of the operation.'

'I own I was very ignorant of all this, dear papa, but you explain it so nicely. When a man spends then, a woman must spend also?'

'By no means. Only too frequently the female may experience no pleasure or gratification at all. Yet conception may take place. It often does so. Professionally loose women lose the ability to enjoy from overindulgence and the prostitution of the act of generation to their everyday routine. The fluid, in such cases, ceases to secrete. Artificial means are employed to replace it. Habit brings satiety-satiety destroys pleasure. The two are inconsistent. There is no longer any yearning for the peach. The saliva ceases to flow. The functions misused are injured and the original purpose of nature rendered abortive.'

'That is very interesting to your little Eveline, dear papa. I shall take care that all my functions are in good order whenever we are together. There is one thing more to understand. Can you tell me how it is that a woman misses conception in the act?'

'That is too wide a subject for me to explain off-hand. It is essentially a physiological one. Many causes may be at work. There is the cause I have already named. The fault may be on the part of the male, or by reason of the condition or the health of the female. The most frequent cause, however, is that already described, or that the female is barren.'

'Are many women barren?'

'More probably than are suspected. The present fashionable tendency to turn girls into tomboys; the exercises, athletic and vigorous, which they now patronize is undoubtedly producing that effect, and unfitting the English woman for the softer and more natural duties of life. She is annually becoming taller, slimmer, more angular, more devoid of the marked contrasts of sex. The bust has already gone, and the dressmaker is called in with padding. False breasts occupy prominent places in London shop windows. Devices of all kinds are adopted to hide the deformity. It exists and it is on the increase. The result must be a sensible diminution of the population. Young married people now have become very alert to the conveniences of limiting the number of their offspring. You hear everywhere the society remark, 'a pigeon's pair-so interesting, you know; just two and no more.' Glances are exchanged-smiles exchanged. The dear creatures are perfectly au courant as to both cause and effect. There are, of course, other causes why women miss conception. Apart from artificial means purposely employed, there remains the ever increasing condition of barrenness.'

'You think many women are barren then, papa dear?'

'No doubt many are so. Only look at the number of infructuous marriages. If you ask the cause, I have given you one. The effects of unsuitable climate for Europeans may be another, but considering the matter in a society point of view, from one cause or another, no doubt we can entertain that the habits of life nowadays contribute to this condition. The deformity of the body by tight lacing is another cause. A very slight misplacement of the mouth of the womb is sufficient to prevent impregnation. This may be natural or produced as I describe.'

'I am not tight-laced, dear papa. You can pass your hand down inside my stays.'

Soon he had undressed me and was playing with my parts. 'I know, my darling. Your figure is most exceptional for an English girl. You are formed for a Venus, but for all that you may be incapable of procreating by some such impediment as that of which I speak. However, it is most unlikely. Our precautions are sufficient.'

'Take me in your arms again, dear papa. Your little Eveline loves you. This dear thing is already stiff again. Let me kiss it. Oh, darling, what pleasure you are giving your little girl. You are sucking my button. It is the center of my sensations. Your tongue is giving me divine enjoyment. Go on! Oh, pray go on, papa! Shall I turn round?'

'No, my sweet, remain as you are. Take your pet between your red lips also. Suck! Suck it thus. Oh, that is lovely! It is in your mouth.'

We continued mutually until nature relieved us. He discharged a shower of seed. I received all. I returned him a dose which he called the nectar of the gods.

Sir Edward L was one of the kindest of men, nevertheless he made himself obeyed on occasions. He was not by any means a safe man to trifle with. To me he was all indulgence. I had obtained the secret desire of my heart. I had done all I could to nurture, to develop his passion for myself. Beneath his seemingly calm and rather austere nature, there lay a very furnace of sensuality-of intense and passionate feeling-a real voracity for the indulgence of the most libidinous pleasures. No one who knew him only as the polished gentleman or the urbane military chief, could have supposed his real nature. I knew it intuitively. He was a member of the family. He could not be otherwise than he was. We were all alike. I worked on the fact-that was all. The reading of Charlemagne's incestuous example had fired my lust. It had communicated itself to papa also. It was only natural.