Venus in India (18 page)

But ah! during the next day, during the next evening, a delightful and most cheerful change in this respect came over me! If any medical man should happen to read this exact narrative of my feelings and history he may be able to account for it, but I cannot, at least I cannot give scientific reasons, which no doubt he can and will to any enquiring soul. Well, the next morning I got a nice little note from Fanny:

DEAR CAPTAIN DEVEREAUX - Mamma wants to know why you are making yourself such a stranger. We have caught hardly even a glimpse of you for a long time now. Will you come and dine with us tonight? It will be an early dinner, at six, because we have to get up early tomorrow morning for the march. Do come!

Yours always affectionately,

FANNY SELWYN

I sent back a little note accepting, feeling a strange beating of my heart, for Fanny had grown much too dear to me and the reader knows why I did not cultivate her love more ardently than I did.

Meanwhile honest Jack Stone had been to see me and told me that the unfortunate Searle had died of cholera on his way to Bombay.

Stone was dreadfully anxious that I should not add fuel to the flames as regards reports about Mrs Searle and her establishment at Honeysuckle Lodge and the reason for this became apparent to me some years later, when I met him and a lady whom he introduced to me at Brighton as Mrs Stone. This lady's features struck me as being somehow familiar to me, and on racking my brains I remembered they were extremely like those of the naked lady in the photograph he had shown me on that eventful night when Searle had tried to ravish Lizzie Wilson. The gallant Jack had made Mrs Searle an honest woman again in the sight of the world, and had gained an equally honest right for himself to fuck her whenever he liked without having to pay five hundred rupees for that grand pleasure. She seemed a fine voluptuous creature with decidedly large, well-formed bubbies, and I dare say old Jack had many goloptious nights between her goloptious thighs, fucking her goloptious cunt, as he had expressed it.

It was not without still further heart stirrings that I found the Selwyns occupying my old room in the bungalow as their sitting room and using what had been Lizzie Wilson's room as a bedroom for the girls and children. The door which communicated between the two rooms was open, and there, as I sat beside Fanny at dinner, I saw the very bedstead on which I had so often fucked the beautiful Lizzie with rapture indescribable. As I looked at it and revolved past scenes in my mind, Fanny caught the direction of my eyes.

'That is my bed,' said she innocently.

'Is it?' I replied mechanically.

Oh! What had come over me that the sight of that bedstead did not make my prick rage? I am sure I was dull and stupid at dinner. The colonel, however, was in high glee and I knew why.

The poor man had at last outwitted his careful wife and obtained the much-longed-for fuckable cunt. So he was beaming and overflowing with anecdote. I let him talk and behaved as a respectful listener, only occasionally replying to some question Fanny put from time to time, hoping to bring on one of our old free and unconstrained conversations. The way she stuck to me all that evening touched me. Instead of being offended at my obstinate silence she came and sat next to me on the verandah, where I smoked cheroot after cheroot, listening to the colonel's continual chatter until at last Mrs Selwyn, with a warning that it was growing late, carried him off to bed, leaving me with Fanny alone.

'What is the matter with you, dear Captain Devereaux?' at last she said, laying her gentle little hand on mine. 'You have hardly spoken one word to me since you came. I am afraid the march is too much for you and you feel done up.'

'Well! Fanny, I do but I don't know that it is exactly the march. I can't quite tell you what it is, but I have never been myself since that fierce night of the Afghan.'

'Ah! Mama says she is sure that has something to do with you being so gloomy. Why should you be? If I had killed an Afghan under such circumstances I should be so proud there would be no holding me.'

'Ah! Fanny dear, before that night I was a man. I had power, force, strength, but ever since I have felt that I have none left - no power - do you understand?'

'Power? What do you mean by power?'

'That which makes a man acceptable to his wife, dear!'

'Oh!'

Did Fanny understand? I fancied she did; after a little silence she said, 'Do you know I had such a funny - such a nice dream about you last night! I dreamt it three times - but I am afraid - that is, I don't believe it can ever come true for all that.'

'What was it?'

'I dreamt that you came whilst I was asleep in that room and woke me just like the Afghan did - only more gently - you woke me in the same manner as he did and you asked me to let you warm yourself in my arms and you did plead so very earnestly that I said you might and then -'

'And then?' said I eagerly.

'Well! I don't quite know how to tell you! However, you got into bed and right on to me and folded me to you so tight - Oh! so tight! and - I don't know what you did exactly - but Oh! - it was so delightful and you were so happy - but I awoke - all of a sudden - and you were not there. I positively cried for - Oh, Captain Devereaux - you know we all love you!'

If this was not straight talk I don't know what it was but the effect on me was magical. In a moment my weakness seemed to leave me and my long dead and useless prick sprang up in all pristine might and stood as it had stood for Lizzie Wilson. The whole atmosphere seemed redolent of fucking; desire as strong as ever assailed me. Fanny's bosom, I could see, was rising and falling rapidly. It seemed to me that she was then and there offering herself to me if I would but have her. Her hand tightened on mine and I gently drew it forward intending to lay it on my now rigid prick and to show her that I understood and was quite ready if she was so willing. A standing prick, dear reader, has no conscience! All my fine resolutions not to take advantage of Fanny had flown to the four winds of heaven! I could remember nothing but the sweet vision I had had of her dear little cunt, spoiled as its beauty was by the unclean blood of the menses but tempting all the same. Whether she actually felt my prick or not I did not then know for at that moment Mabel came quickly out of the bedroom and said, 'Fanny, mama says you must not stay up any longer and that you are to come to bed.'

Without even saying good-night but with a firm squeeze of her hand on mine Fanny jumped up and ran.

Excited as I was with the tumult of joy and passionate desire in my heart and the stream of luxurious wine, I jumped up too and, taking Mabel round the waist, I kissed her again and again, pressing her two nice young little bubbies as I did so to her vast delight.

'What a regular woman you are growing, Mabel! What a fine bosom you have! What perfect little bubbies! I suppose you have plenty of hair here,' and I slipped my hand down to her motte and pressed my itching finger between the thighs to her little cunt.

'Oh! Captain Devereaux!' she exclaimed in a low tone. 'You bad naughty man!' but she made no defence; I sat down and pulled her to my knee and had my hand under her petticoats like a shot and my finger buried in her little warm and virgin cunt before she knew what I was up to!

'Mabel! Mabel! You are a woman!' I exclaimed, quite beside myself with excitement. 'Don't you think you want a husband?'

'Yes,' she whispered, hotly returning my burning kisses. 'I often feel I should like a man.'

God only knows what I should have done, but I think I might say that Mabel's maidenhead would have been done for there and then had it not been for Fanny's voice ringing angrily out of the room, 'Mabel. Come to bed!'

With a last feel of the sweet little cunt which alas! I had not had time to make spend and with a last kiss, fully returned by the gratified girl who at only twelve was precocious indeed, I let Mabel go, whispering to her 'not to tell' and rejoicing over my fully regained power and 'standing'. I went home to my tent and quickly undressed and viewed with delight that fine stalwart Johnnie who had so often stood to me so well in my encounters with the lovely foe.

I had ravishing dreams I fucked I don't know how many of my former lady loves but neither Fanny nor Amy came in for their share. In the morning I woke and found not only my dear old prick to my joy and delight standing as full as in days of yore but also unmistakable signs of a most prolific wet dream - a sure sign that my balls had recovered their power of secreting the essence of man.

As I went to fall in with my company I met the regimental postman who handed me a letter which I saw at a glance was from my beloved Louie. I had a conviction that there would be bad news in it. Bad news! Oh! what had I become when I deemed it bad news to hear that she was starting by the next mail to come to join me in India! And further that she had waited until now to announce that we had another baby to expect - the fruits of our too prolific fucking - about March next. She had not been sure and did not like to mention it until she was certain; the usual signs did not show themselves; but now she was certain that a baby was really in existence and had run nearly six months of its natural life! Then - if she did come - and Louie was a woman of her word - I should have before me a time when I should not have that intense pleasure in fucking her which I had when her womb was free from lading.

She said from my letters my spirits seemed increasingly low, that she was getting more and more alarmed and that coute que coute she would come and join me; she did not know where but she would find out in Bombay on landing. Next mail here! she must be in the Red Sea now! Or perhaps in the Indian Ocean and she would get to Fackabad almost as soon as we would! Oh! Fanny! Fanny! How could I have you now? Gods! To think that the day had come when I did not want the woman who at one time had persuaded my soul and my senses that I should never care for another; the woman whose darling cunt alone made my prick stand and had taken the shine out of all others! I was, I tell you, dear readers, torn with contending emotions. It was too late to stop Louie. She was as surely on her way as I had felt Mabel's dear little cunt! I should never fuck it now! No! nor Fanny's either. And just as I had at last made up my mind that I could no longer, without dishonour to myself or either of these charming girls, stay the craving which we all three felt.

No wonder Lavie who soon joined me on the dusty road found me glum and cast down.

'Look here, Devereaux!' said he. 'I know well what it is. You are just killing yourself with the foolish fancy that your prick will never stand again! Now listen to me! Be wise and give up such absurd ideas! You will find the old gentleman lift himself up again some day soon if you will leave him alone and let him wear off his sulks; but if your mind dwells on it you may render yourself permanently impotent, for the mind has great power over the senses. I'll just tell you a little story of myself as an illustration. It happened at Woolwich three years ago; I had been on duty at the Herbert Hospital and a brother officer came walking home with me in the evening, a fellow I was very fond of. It was about nine o'clock and on passing the artillery barracks I saw a very nice-looking girl, evidently a poll, standing on the pavement. I wished her good-night and asked her if she was expecting anybody. "Yes dear," she said, "I was expecting you."

'"Oh!" said I, "then come along and I'll go home with you. Where do you live?"

'"In Wood Street," said she.

'"That is not your street, Lavie," said my friend, "and it is mine, so you had better let me see the young lady home and go to your lodging yourself."

'"Not I," I replied laughing. "I want a poke and I am going to fuck this girl - am I not, my dear?"

'"Of course," said she, "you asked me first and I'll come with you but if your friend likes I'll go to him or he can come to me when you are done."

'"Buttered buns!" said my friend laughing. "No, thank you. Tomorrow night, however, if you will meet me at the road to the cemetery at eight I will take you home and we will have it out then."

'"All right," said she.

Well, we walked on and soon were at Wood Street and, just as the girl turned in at her gate and I was following her, my friend called out to her, "You had far better have come with me for Lavie is good for nothing and you'll get no change out of his balls tonight." The girl laughed and so did I.

'Well, we went upstairs to her bedroom and undressed and she was as fine and nicely made a little poll as you ever saw: good bubbies, nice skin, good arms and legs, and a fine black bush hiding a soft fat little cunt! But by Jove! I could not get a stand! The words of my friend kept ringing in my ears and I kept thinking to myself my God! fancy if it comes true! - and true it did come, simply because I doubted my own power. The poor girl was very much put about. Everything she could think of was tried - but in vain - to make my brute of a prick stand. I wanted to pay her and leave her, for I was miserable, but she like a little darling would not let me go. "You try and sleep," said she, "I won't touch you any more and I dare say your prick will be all right by morning and we can fuck then." I thought I never would sleep but at last I dozed off and, I suppose in an hour's time, woke up and found I had a glorious stand. The girl was fast asleep with her back towards me. Without wakening her I got one of my legs between hers, working myself round and along her until I had the right direction, and when she woke I had my prick buried in her cunt up to my balls. Well, she would not have it that way but insisted on my doing Adam and Eve and I never enjoyed a night's fucking more. I had her seven or eight times and when I went away after she had given me some breakfast she asked me if she had not done right to not let me go? She said she knew it was only nervous depression and the effect of fancy and that she had more than once had experience with it and so was not surprised when she was disappointed. So you see, Devereaux, how I, who had no such cause as you have to be weak, lost my power from simple imagination. Don't you indulge in fears any more.'