Desire

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 190 of 344 · 20 per page

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  […] “It’s not only possible, but it’s also simple and painless.” So saying, he removed his hands from beneath her and pried open her legs. […] “If it’s as you say,” he said in an annoyingly reasonable tone, loosening his hold on her legs for the moment, “after one brief inspection I will leave here and never bother you again. But if you’re lying, as I suspect, you are rightfully my slave for the evening.” […] His fingers gently touched her, probing her. She cursed her treacherous body even as she shuddered with pleasure when his finger slid easily into the telltale wetness. He let out a hoarse groan and drew her into his arms. “I win,” he said, just before his lips claimed hers.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  “Open your eyes, Beauty!” he rasped. I did so and saw his manhood poised before my lips. He took my head in his hands, but I resisted. The Beast refrained from forcing himself into my mouth, but neither did he yield his grasp of my head. I stared at the object before me. It was shaped differently from that of a normal man’s, besides being larger, and was much darker in color. I tentatively put out my tongue, very lightly and cautiously tasting the object that brought me so much pleasure. The Beast shuddered, and suddenly I was seized with a desire to please him. I opened my mouth and caressed him gently with my lips at first, but soon found myself sucking hungrily. He was so large that I could only take a fraction of him, and that with great effort, but he seemed not to mind this; for what I was able to take I took with relish, clutching him with lips and tongue and jaw. Abruptly the Beast stopped me and removed himself from my mouth. Pushing me down on the bed he spread apart my legs. I stared into his dark eyes as he approached. There was something shining there—something inhuman. I wanted to turn away, but his eyes held mine. A wave of terror trickled through me. The Beast growled loudly as he entered me. My legs were stretched almost to the point of breaking as I tried to accommodate his immense form. He rasped and grunted as he mercilessly used my tender flesh. His hot breath burned my skin, and I watched with horrified fascination as his sharp teeth carefully nipped at my shoulders and breasts. But my terror was quickly being joined by that old familiar pleasure that the Beast had kindled within me. They were both working together with the Beast to bring me toward a passion I had never before experienced. I relished the coarse animal hair that covered his body and the fierce, animal sounds that escaped him as he savagely mated me. I squirmed and moaned as his large, rough hands simultaneously bruised my tender skin and sent shivers of delight just beneath its surface. I cried out time and again, helplessly, pleading and dizzy in the utter agony of such exquisite sensations that came from him filling me to overflowing. Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through me as I vaguely heard the Beast’s tremendous roar amidst my own screams. Before I could even catch my breath, morning had come! I left in such a flurry of activity and excitement that I did not think of my Beast for many days. My father recovered quickly upon my arrival, and I became reabsorbed in the eventful days of a large family. Too quickly my month was up, and it was time for me to return to the castle.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  Though she kept her eyes glued to the floor, the empress was acutely aware that there were bystanders all around her, observing her every movement with keen interest. Even so, she slipped her hand between her legs to touch herself, shutting her own eyes tightly as she did so. That those staring eyes saw her hand and watched her please herself she doubted not and, as a matter of fact, this heightened her excitement. But still she could not bear to look at them directly. She was too self-conscious of the awkward movements and sounds she was making while thus engaged with the emperor in so intimate an act. But what was the audience’s response to the exhibition? she wondered. What were they thinking as they sat there, silently watching her and the emperor thrash about against each other with such wild abandon? She could feel the exquisite pleasure her husband was giving her, but what did it look like from their point of view? These ruminations only increased her excitement, and suddenly she wanted more than anything to see the faces of the persons who had assembled around the glass room to watch. She turned her head sideways and tentatively looked up. Her whole body convulsed as she looked into the eyes of the multitude who silently stared at her in astonishment. Some were looking at the place where she and her husband were joined. Others watched her dangling breasts. Still others examined her face. Those gaping eyes watched in all different sizes, from normal to extra large, as they peered at her through the various panels for the desired effect. The empress shuddered as she tried to imagine the vision that presented itself from each vantage point. Wave after wave of pleasure seared through her, as she searched one face after the other, watching them watching her. The empress’s response increased her husband’s excitement, and he became more aggressive, using her savagely as his passion continued to build. And throughout the event, those watchful eyes missed nothing. They caught all: from the crushing grip the emperor maintained on the empress’s hips, to the small cries forced from her lips by his violent thrusts, to the poor lady’s loss of footing under her husband’s grueling pace. And even then, to the onlookers’ amazement, the emperor did not relent; even when the empress’s hands slipped from the wall onto the floor while she struggled frantically to right herself, he still continued mercilessly, seemingly unmindful of her plight. It was indeed shocking to see the empress in such a position, bent at the waist, with hands and feet grasping at the floor desperately while the emperor persisted in taking her so determinedly from behind. But most remarkable of all was how the empress, throughout her extraordinary struggles and regardless of everything else, kept continually arching her neck in the direction of the servants, straining to keep sight of them, desperately scanning their faces, and frantically searching their eyes!

• From The Decameron (1353)

  It came to pass, after some months, that the friends and kinsfolk of Gisippus resorted to him and together with Titus exhorted him to take a wife, to which he consenting, they found him a young Athenian lady of marvellous beauty and very noble parentage, whose name was Sophronia and who was maybe fifteen years old. The term of the future nuptials drawing nigh, Gisippus one day besought Titus to go visit her with him, for that he had not yet seen her. Accordingly, they being come into her house and she seated between the twain, Titus proceeded to consider her with the utmost attention, as if to judge of the beauty of his friend's bride, and every part of her pleasing him beyond measure, what while he inwardly commended her charms to the utmost, he fell, without showing any sign thereof, as passionately enamoured of her as ever yet man of woman. After they had been with her awhile, they took their leave and returned home, where Titus, betaking himself alone into his chamber, fell a-thinking of the charming damsel and grew the more enkindled the more he enlarged upon her in thought; which, perceiving, he fell to saying in himself, after many ardent sighs, 'Alack, the wretchedness of thy life, Titus! Where and on what settest thou thy mind and thy love and thy hope? Knowest thou not that it behoveth thee, as well for the kindness received from Chremes and his family as for the entire friendship that is between thee and Gisippus, whose bride she is, to have yonder damsel in such respect as a sister? Whom, then, lovest thou? Whither lettest thou thyself be carried away by delusive love, whither by fallacious hope? Open the eyes of thine understanding and recollect thyself, wretch that thou art; give place to reason, curb thy carnal appetite, temper thine unhallowed desires and direct thy thoughts unto otherwhat; gainstand thy lust in this its beginning and conquer thyself, whilst it is yet time. This thou wouldst have is unseemly, nay, it is dishonourable; this thou art minded to ensue it behoveth thee, even wert thou assured (which thou art not) of obtaining it, to flee from, an thou have regard unto that which true friendship requireth and that which thou oughtest. What, then, wilt thou do, Titus? Thou wilt leave this unseemly love, an thou wouldst do that which behoveth.'

• From The Decameron (1353)

  "The stones found by Landolfo," began Fiammetta, to whose turn it came to tell, "have brought to my mind a story scarce less full of perilous scapes than that related by Lauretta, but differing therefrom inasmuch as the adventures comprised in the latter befell in the course of belike several years and these of which I have to tell in the space of a single night, as you shall hear. There was once in Perugia, as I have heard tell aforetime, a young man, a horse-courser, by name Andreuccio di Pietro,[95] who, hearing that horses were good cheap at Naples, put five hundred gold florins in his purse and betook himself thither with other merchants, having never before been away from home. He arrived there one Sunday evening, towards vespers, and having taken counsel with his host, sallied forth next morning to the market, where he saw great plenty of horses. Many of them pleased him and he cheapened one and another, but could not come to an accord concerning any. Meanwhile, to show that he was for buying, he now and again, like a raw unwary clown as he was, pulled out the purse of florins he had with him, in the presence of those who came and went. As he was thus engaged, with his purse displayed, it chanced that a Sicilian damsel, who was very handsome, but disposed for a small matter to do any man's pleasure, passed near him, without his seeing her, and catching sight of the purse, said straightway in herself, 'Who would fare better than I, if yonder money were mine!' And passed on. [Footnote 95: _i.e._ son of Pietro, as they still say in Lancashire and other northern provinces, "Tom o' Dick" for "Thomas, son of Richard," etc.] Now there was with her an old woman, likewise a Sicilian, who, seeing Andreuccio, let her companion pass on and running to him, embraced him affectionately, which when the damsel saw, she stepped aside to wait for her, without saying aught. Andreuccio, turning to the old woman and recognizing her, gave her a hearty greeting and she, having promised to visit him at his inn, took leave, without holding overlong parley there, whilst he fell again to chaffering, but bought nothing that morning. The damsel, who had noted first Andreuccio's purse and after her old woman's acquaintance with him, began cautiously to enquire of the latter, by way of casting about for a means of coming at the whole or part of the money, who and whence he was and what he did there and how she came to know him. The old woman told her every particular of Andreuccio's affairs well nigh as fully as he himself could have done, having long abidden with his father, first in Sicily and after at Perugia, and acquainted her, to boot, where he lodged and wherefore he was come thither.

• From Post Office (1971)

  2 The next thing I knew, I had a young girl from Texas on my lap. I won’t go into details of how I met her. Anyway, there it was. She was 23. I was 36. She had long blonde hair and was good solid meat. I didn’t know, at the time, that she also had plenty of money. She didn’t drink but I did. We laughed a lot at first. And went to the racetrack together. She was a looker, and everytime I got back to my seat there would be some jerkoff sliding closer and closer to her. There were dozens of them. They just kept moving closer and closer. Joyce would just sit. I had to handle them all one of two ways. Either take Joyce and move off or tell the guy: “Look, buddy, this one’s taken! Now move off!” But fighting the wolves and the horses at the same time was too much for me. I kept losing. A pro goes to the track alone. I knew that. But I thought maybe I was exceptional. I found out that I wasn’t exceptional at all I could lose my money as fast as anybody. Then Joyce demanded that we get married. What the hell? I thought, I’m cooked anyhow. I drove her to Vegas for a cheap wedding, then drove her right back. I sold the car for ten dollars and the next thing I knew we were on a bus to Texas and when we landed I had seventy-five cents in my pocket. It was a very small town, the population, I believe, was under 2,000. The town had been picked by experts, in a national article, as the last town in the USA any enemy would attack with an atomic bomb. I could see why. All this time, without knowing it, I was working my way back toward the post office. That mother. Joyce had a little house in town and we laid around and screwed and ate. She fed me well, fattened me up and weakened me at the same time. She couldn’t get enough. Joyce, my wife, was a nymph. I took little walks through the town, alone, to get away from her, teethmarks all over my chest, neck and shoulders, and somewhere else that worried me more and was quite painful. She was eating me alive.

• From Fragments (7)

  Mayest thou a kind adviser be; And, Dionysus, do thou for me To him my heart-felt love commend. CLEOBULUS (12) To Cleobulus my love I gave, For Cleobulus I madly rave, At Cleobulus cast glances grave. 86 Anacreon CLEOBULUS (?) (13) O boy, with glance like maidens fair, I seek thy love in vain. Thou knowest not or dost not care, Yet o'er my soul dost reign. TO SMERDIES (14) The splendid soft bloom off thou hast shorn, The hair which did thy head adorn. LEUCASPIS (15) A harp of twenty strings I play. Which in my hands I hold; And more, Leucaspis, day by day, I am by thy youth enthralled. SIMALUS (16) My eyes at Simalus happened to glance. As he played his beautiful harp in the dance. 87 Lyric Songs of the Greeks ■J MEGISTES (17) Fully ten months have from us sped, Since affable Megistes ever With willow withes has crowned his head, And drinking sweet must ceases never. MEGISTES (i8) I hate all men with manners stern. As though from 'neath the earth they came; But thou, Megistes, I did learn, Art calm of mind and e'er the same. PYTHOMANDRUS (19) And Pythomandrus once again A refuge proved for me, As he in former times had been. When I from Love did flee. ERXION (20) A cup I had, filled to the brink. To white-necked Erxion to drink. 88 UNNAMED BOY FAVORITES (21) I long to enjoy myself with thee: Thy charming manner pleases me. (22) For those slender thighs, my friend, I this wine as pledge will spend. (23) A lovely boy thou art, And dear to many a heart. A LESBIAN MAIDEN (24) Once again with a purple sphere Eros, god with the golden hair, Strikes me and doth a challenge bear With a maid of broidered sandals to sport. But she, who doth in Lesbos abide. Well-built island, my hair doth chide, Blaming me for its color white, While her gazing eyes another court. 89 Lyric Songs of the Greeks A COY THRACIAN MAIDEN (25) Thracian filly, why so shyly Doest thou glance and flee from me? Knowest thou not my cunning wily, Cruel maid, to capture thee? Know full well, however wilful Thou mayest be, yet that I know How to bridle thee, am skilful With the reins to make thee go. Now, o'er meadows bounding ever, Dost thou lightly sport and feed; For not yet hast thou a clever Rider who can guide a steed. SPURN NOT OLD AGE, MAIDEN (26) Though I am old, yet maiden, to me listen, Thou, beauteous-haired, whose robe with gold doth glisten. PAST THE PRIME OF LIFE (27) I am past the prime of life, a maid forlorn ; Loss of my charms I through thy passion mourn. 90 Anacreon UNLOVED ASTERIS (28) O Asteris, I love thee not, Nor has thy love Apelles sought. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH (29) Like a cuckoo I Do me from her hie. WINE THE CUP-BEARER (30)

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  As Mr. Fox kissed Mrs. Wolfe, his hands gently wandered down the length of her body, caressing and lightly tickling her skin to create goose bumps and cause her breasts to harden. Then his hands moved to her breasts that he might enjoy his handiwork. His fingertips determinedly squeezed and twisted the hard little tips. Mrs. Wolfe gasped at this exquisitely sweet torture. Mrs. Fox certainly had not lied when she described how talented her husband was. Mr. Fox took his time, not greedily grabbing and grasping, but playfully handling her breasts until she thought she might die from the agony of not being touched elsewhere. At last, just as she thought she might lose her mind, he finally moved his hand lower, but then he lingered on her belly, until she lifted her hips off the bed and pushed them upward and into his hand. Mr. Fox laughed at her obvious impatience, and whispered, “Easy, love.” Mrs. Wolfe had never been in the position of having to wait or plead; in fact she was quite used to being attended to without delay. This teasing created a twisting ache between her legs and a prickling awareness in her nerve endings, so she felt all at once needy and desperate and irritable. She lifted her hips and pushed them fiercely into his hand yet again, silently cursing him for his cool control. Chuckling at her obvious displeasure in him, he kept circling her skin with cruel gentleness, lightly brushing around and between her wide-open legs but all too quickly flittering away again to roam over her hips, belly and thighs, and then back between her legs. Mrs. Wolfe was becoming quite anxious but what could she do? Fearing to say the wrong thing and give herself away she could do no more than wait. However, her need was becoming voracious and the little flickering teasing touches, although quite expert in effectiveness, were all too short-lived to even come close to satisfying her. She moaned in anguish and shamelessly flung her hips up again in search of his hand. She was becoming more and more indignant with Mr. Fox. How did Mrs. Fox bear all this horrible teasing? Mr. Fox, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying himself too much to care about her discomfort. He merely laughed at her struggles, using his hands to subdue her even as they drove her to distraction. He loved how each time he brushed and teased the opening between her legs it seemed to get wetter and wetter. He staunchly approved discipline and self-control, and furthermore believed that for every moan of anticipation one full second of pleasure was added to the final satisfaction. He kept this in mind as his fingers continued their torturous dance over her body. His own body was throbbing with eagerness to bury itself in her wetness and get lost in the pleasure. But all in good time.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  Immediately afterward, the fair prince stepped aside and another, darker prince took his place. This prince was not as gentle as the first, but he pleased Snow White just as much, if not more. With his eyes staring fiercely into hers, he twisted her body at the waist, so that her left leg crossed over to the far right. With the aid of the other princes, who held her in the desired position, the dark prince took Snow White while never once letting his eyes leave hers. Once again, her excitement and desire began churning and growing within her. With so many princes to attend to her, there was nothing more for her to do—indeed, there was nothing more she could do—than to simply lie there and accept the pleasure offered her by their combined efforts. And that is just what Snow White did. She was keenly aware of the individual princes as they administered to her, and acutely conscious of each and every touch of their fingers and lips. The princes held her firmly, while her dark lover thrust himself repeatedly into her, enjoying her, yet careful not to shame himself by putting his own pleasure before hers. Snow White strained and moaned as the sweet agony continued to build inside her, until she once again shuddered in fulfillment, together with her dark prince. Moments later the dark prince was replaced by yet another dashing princely lover. His eyes were a deep emerald green, and his handsome smile displayed perfect, white teeth. With Snow White still in the position she had been left in by the other prince, with one leg crossing over to the side, the green-eyed prince pressed into her, kissing her lips tenderly as he did so. In the next instant her skillful lover eased her over and onto her knees, without the slightest discomfort to her, and after which she was still joined to him! Snow White stared out blindly in front of her as the prince took her with slow, long thrusts from behind. The other princes, meanwhile, continued to touch her, with intimate caresses along her buttocks and thighs, probing and prodding, as they each eagerly anticipated their own turn to stand between those soft legs and fill the opening within. Snow White looked up and beheld the black-skinned prince standing near her. Positioned as she was, her head reached the precise height of his hips, which were so close that his manhood, rigid and throbbing, was poised directly in front of her within inches of her lips. He stroked her shoulders and back gently as he watched the other prince thrust himself into her.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Not many years ago there was in Florence, a young lady, by name Elena, fair of favour and haughty of humour, of very gentle lineage and endowed with sufficient abundance of the goods of fortune, who, being widowed of her husband, chose never to marry again, for that she was enamoured of a handsome and agreeable youth of her own choice, and with the aid of a maid of hers, in whom she put great trust, being quit of every other care, she often with marvellous delight gave herself a good time with him. In these days it chanced that a young gentleman of our city, by name Rinieri, having long studied in Paris, not for the sake of after selling his knowledge by retail, as many do, but to know the nature of things and their causes, the which excellently becometh a gentleman, returned thence to Florence and there lived citizen-fashion, much honoured as well for his nobility as for his learning. But, as it chanceth often that those, who have the most experience of things profound, are the soonest snared of love, even so it befell this Rinieri; for, having one day repaired, by way of diversion, to an entertainment, there presented herself before his eyes the aforesaid Elena, clad all in black, as our widows go, and full, to his judgment, of such beauty and pleasantness as himseemed he had never beheld in any other woman; and in his heart he deemed that he might call himself blest whom God should vouchsafe to hold her naked in his arms. Then, furtively considering her once and again and knowing that great things and precious were not to be acquired without travail, he altogether determined in himself to devote all his pains and all his diligence to the pleasing her, to the end that thereby he might gain her love and so avail to have his fill of her.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  Mr. Wolfe grabbed hold of Mrs. Fox by her buttocks, and he squeezed each one brutally. Then he dug his fingers in and used them to pile drive himself deeper into her still, asking, “Is that hard enough?” Insane lust was dominating Mrs. Fox, so that even though she sobbed in agony she still kept whimpering, “Harder…harder!” Mr. Wolfe was now working her hips like kneaded bread, his large fingers digging into her fleshy buttocks and manipulating her tender cheeks in and around his shaft. Her head had collapsed onto the bed but he still held her buttocks quite high, squeezing and pinching as he simultaneously pulled her toward him and thrust into her. He too was becoming quite crazed from her maddening chant, begging him to go harder, faster, and above all, not to stop. Her bottom had become like dough in his fists as he continued to pound himself into her softness. Mrs. Fox at last reached the height of her excitement. She squeezed her eyes shut as the waves came over her, her body nearly broken but her lips still murmuring over and over, “Harder, harder, harder.” Her entire being convulsed in shudders of unspeakable pleasure. Feeling her shudders and hearing her soft cries, Mr. Wolfe lost all control. Mrs. Fox felt his body quake, as with a loud yell he flung himself deep within her one last time. When it was over he took her in his arms. She was trembling violently and he suddenly became very gentle, begging her forgiveness for his rough treatment of her. He spread tender kisses over her face and shoulders, cursing himself and pleading with her to forgive him. Finally her trembling lessened and only then did he fall into deep slumber. With her face still damp from her tears, Mrs. Fox crept from the bed and left the Wolfes’ chamber with a fervent wish to be with her own gentle husband. Meanwhile, you mustn’t think that Mrs. Wolfe had been sluggish in waking Mr. Fox, for she had sneaked her way into his arms much the same as Mrs. Fox had done. “What’s this now?” Mr. Fox teased when he felt her silky softness snuggling up against him. But there was no need for Mrs. Wolfe to answer, for his lips were claiming hers in a gentle teasing kiss. Excitement filled her as she wound her arms around his neck. His skin was so warm and lean and smooth she could not help herself from pressing her nakedness up tightly against him. He kissed her masterfully, nipping at her lips and teasing her with his tongue.

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  Despite this harrowingly close call, Joseph remained perpetually and hopelessly smitten by the comeliest female members of his flock. Among them was a nubile resident of Kirtland named Fanny Alger, who was introduced to Joseph in 1830, after her parents became some of the earliest converts to the church. By the winter of 1833, when Fanny was sixteen, she had moved into the Smith household as a domestic servant and had grown very close to both Smiths, particularly Emma. According to a Mormon named Ann Eliza Webb Young, Fanny was “a very pretty, pleasing young girl,” and Mrs. Smith “was extremely fond of her; no own mother could be more devoted, and their affection for each other was a constant object of remark, so absorbing and genuine did it seem.” Joseph, however, was also extremely fond of young Fanny, and he took her as his plural wife in February or March 1833; she may well have been the second woman, after Emma, whom he formally married. He tried to keep the relationship secret, but Emma eventually discovered Joseph and Fanny flagrante delicto, and by the fall of 1835 had thrown the girl out of their house. Neither Emma’s tears nor her rage were enough to make Joseph monogamous, however; nor were the prevailing mores of the day. He kept falling rapturously in love with women not his wife. And because that rapture was so wholly consuming, and felt so good, it struck him as impossible that God might possibly frown on such a thing. Joseph wasn’t by nature reflective or deliberative. He conducted his life impulsively, acting according to instinct and emotion. The Lord, it seemed to him, must surely have intended man to know the love of more than one wife or He wouldn’t have made the prospect so enticing. In the Old Testament, moreover, Joseph found ample proof that this was indeed God’s intent, wherein the polygamous customs of Abraham and Jacob—the patriarchs from whom the Mormons were directly descended—were recounted without reproach or shame. Joseph continued to take plural wives throughout the 1830s in Ohio and Missouri, and he married with even greater frequency in Nauvoo in the early 1840s, but he did whatever was necessary, including bald-faced lying, to conceal his polygamous behavior—not only from censorious non-Mormons but from all but a select few of his own followers, as well. As the prophet explained to his innermost circle in 1832, “he had inquired of the Lord concerning the principle of plurality of wives, and he received for answer that the principle of taking more wives than one is a true principle, but the time had not yet come for it to be

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  There was much excitement as the travelers set out, and the princess and her maid passed the first hours of their journey merrily. But soon they grew weary of the pace that was kept by the others, preferring to travel in a much more leisurely manner. In truth, the princess did not look forward to being married, and more particularly to marrying a prince whom she had never even met. That is not to say that she entertained hopes of somehow avoiding the marriage, for she was obedient and loyal, with that intractable conformity to duty that is characteristic of those with royal blood flowing through their veins. Still, it was her intention to enjoy her last moments of freedom for as long as possible. Determined, therefore, not to be hurried into her inevitable destiny, she convinced her entourage to ride on ahead, allowing her and her maid to follow at their own pace. It was only a few days’ ride on the princess’s own royal lands, after all, and besides, no one in the procession was of the mind to deny the princess anything that she wished. That first day of their journey was especially warm and, having taken many stops to rest, the princess and her companion soon fell far behind the rest of the group. Just as it was reaching late afternoon, the two came upon a clear stream and, delighting in the prospect of having a bath after such a long and tedious ride, agreed it was a perfect place to set up camp for the night. Eagerly the ladies dismounted their horses, stripped off their dusty clothes and rushed headlong into the water. It felt wonderful to wash away the dust from the road. But the princess was not used to attending to herself and in no time her hair was tangled in knots all around her. Seeing the princess’s difficulty, her maid rushed to her side to lend assistance. The luxuriously cool water caressed their weary limbs, and as the maid tenderly washed the princess’s hair, the gentle rocking of the current brought their flesh repeatedly into contact. Before long, the subtle coercion of the waves had its effect, and the women were becoming increasingly enchanted by each other. Once the princess’s hair was washed and rinsed, she immediately set out to return the favor, so that the same process was repeated with the princess washing the hair of her maid. Meanwhile, both women became bolder, allowing their bodies to linger when the water brought them together, as if by accident, but really growing more and more aroused by the exquisite touch of the other’s soft, womanly flesh. Their clean hair sparkled in the late afternoon sun.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  The two barons guided Goldilocks so that she was positioned on top of the first baron just so, but she gasped suddenly, saying, “This is too hard!” To this the baron replied, “That will be remedied in a short while.” Accepting this, Goldilocks allowed herself to be placed fully upon him, and immediately an intense pleasure shot through her as she was obliged, in this position, to take every bit of his hardness inside of her. The second baron positioned himself directly in front of Goldilocks’s face and summoned her to open her lips. “This is too soft,” she could not help remarking just before he stuffed himself into her mouth. “That, too, will be remedied without delay,” replied he. And within seconds of having said so, Goldilocks realized that he had spoken the truth. Goldilocks now glanced sideways at the third baron as he saturated himself with some kind of lubricant. “Oh,” she thought, “that is just right.” But she reconsidered this in the next instant, for he had positioned himself directly behind her—and it did not immediately feel “just right” where he was forcing himself into her from behind. She gasped. Thus engaged, Goldilocks felt something like a butterfly might, when the collector methodically spreads apart its wings and firmly fastens it to his exhibit. And while it is true that the barons had almost as little regard for Goldilocks as the collector has for his butterfly, she had their concentrated attention for the moment at least, and the desire they felt for her was unmistakable. As for Goldilocks, her every sense was alive with feeling; yet, pinioned as she was, she was completely immobilized and absolutely vulnerable to their will. The barons stroked and fondled every part of Goldilocks as they took her, meanwhile groaning under the strain to go slow; for they were determined to enjoy every aspect of this little windfall that had blown in their direction. With this in mind, they, in turns, went fast and slow, making full use of her eager body. Meanwhile, Goldilocks could feel her own excitement pressing up within her. She had never felt so overwhelmed and, at the same time, so desperate for more. She gasped and whimpered when the barons became more demanding, relentlessly driving into her with a force that matched her own excitement. But ere long, they would once again slow the pace, forcing themselves to hold back in an effort to prolong the experience, and at these intervals they would devote themselves to touching her face, hair, breasts, and buttocks. Often they would comment on her physical appearance, noting such things as the softness of her skin, or the roundness of her buttocks, or the eagerness of her mouth. Hearing them, Goldilocks became overcome with desire, and suddenly wanted to be used by them—even more shamefully so.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  It is not many years since there lived (and belike yet liveth) at Bologna a very great and famous physician, known by manifest renown to well nigh all the world. His name was Master Alberto and such was the vivacity of his spirit that, albeit he was an old man of hard upon seventy years of age and well nigh all natural heat had departed his body, he scrupled not to expose himself to the flames of love; for that, having seen at an entertainment a very beautiful widow lady, called, as some say, Madam Malgherida[70] de' Ghisolieri, and being vastly taken with her, he received into his mature bosom, no otherwise than if he had been a young gallant, the amorous fire, insomuch that himseemed he rested not well by night, except the day foregone he had looked upon the delicate and lovesome countenance of the fair lady. Wherefore he fell to passing continually before her house, now afoot and now on horseback, as the occasion served him, insomuch that she and many other ladies got wind of the cause of his constant passings to and fro and oftentimes made merry among themselves to see a man thus ripe of years and wit in love, as if they deemed that that most pleasant passion of love took root and flourished only in the silly minds of the young and not otherwhere. [Footnote 70: Old form of Margherita.]

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  f “wn a beautiful evening three weeks later, Stephen took Angela over Morton. They had had tea with Anna and Puddle, and Anna had been coldly polite to this friend of her daughter’s, but Puddle’s manner had been rather resentful — she deeply mistrusted Angela Crossby. But now Stephen was free to show Angela Morton, and this she did gravely, as though some- thing sacred were involved in this first introduction to her home, as though Morton itself must feel that the coming of this small, fair-haired woman was in some way momentous. Very gravely, then, they went over the house — even into Sir Philip’s old study. From the house they made their way to the stables, and still grave, Stephen told her friend about Raftery. Angela listened, assuming an interest she was very far from feeling — she was timid of horses, but she liked to hear the girl’s rather gruff voice, such an earnest young voice, it intrigued her. She was thoroughly frightened when Raftery sniffed her and then blew through his nostrils as though disapproving, and she started back with a sharp exclamation, so that Stephen slapped him on his glossy grey shoulder: ‘ Stop it, Raftery, come up!’ And Raftery, disgusted, went and blew on his oats to express his hurt feelings. They left him and wandered away through the gardens, and quite soon poor Raftery was almost forgotten, for the gardens smelt softly of night-scented stock and of other pale flowers that smell sweetest at evening, and Stephen was thinking that Angela Crossby resembled such flowers — very fragrant and pale she was, so Stephen said to her gently: ‘ You seem to belong to Morton.’ Angela smiled a slow, questioning smile: ‘ You think so, Stephen? ’ And Stephen answered: ‘I do, because Morton and I are 160 THE WELL OF LONELINESS one,’ and she scarcely understood the portent of her words, but Angela, understanding, spoke quickly: ‘Oh, I belong nowhere — you forget I’m the stranger.’ ‘I know that you’re you,’ said Stephen. They walked on in silence while the light changed and deep- ened, growing always more golden and yet more elusive. And the birds, who loved that strange light, sang singly and then all together: “ We’re happy, Stephen! ’ And turning to Angela, Stephen answered the birds: * Your being here makes me so happy.’ ‘Tf that’s true, then why are you so shy of my name? °? ‘ Angela —’ mumbled Stephen. Then Angela said: ‘ It’s just over three weeks since we met - how quickly our friendship’s happened. I suppose it was meant, I believe in Kismet. You were awfully scared that first day at The Grange; why were you so scared? ’ Stephen answered slowly: ‘ I’m frightened now — I’m fright- ened of you.’ “Yet you’re stronger than I am —’ “Yes, that’s why I’m so frightened, you make me feel strong — do you want to do that? ’

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  He was dressed as a laborer, wearing split-toed shoes with rubber soles and black-canvas tops, and dark-blue cotton trousers of the close-fitting kind called "thigh-pullers." The scrutiny I gave the youth was unusually close for a child of four. Although I did not clearly perceive it at the time, for me he represented my first revelation of a certain power, my first summons by a certain strange and secret voice. It is significant that this was first manifested to me in the form of a night-soil man: excrement is a symbol for the earth, and it was doubtlessly the malevolent love of the Earth Mother that was calling to me. I had a presentiment then that there is in this world a kind of desire like stinging pain. Looking up at that dirty youth, I was choked by desire, thinking, "I want to change into him," thinking, "I want to be him." I can remember clearly that my desire had two focal points. The first was his dark-blue "thigh-pullers," the other his occupation. The close-fitting jeans plainly outlined the lower half of his body, which moved lithely and seemed to be walking directly toward me. An inexpressible adoration for those trousers was born in me. I did not understand why. His occupation . . . At that instant, in the same way that other children, as soon as they attain the faculty of memory, want to become generals, I became possessed with the ambition to become a night-soil man. The origin of this ambition might have been partly in the dark-blue jeans, but certainly not exclusively so. In time this ambition became still stronger and, expanding within me, saw a strange development. What I mean is that toward his occupation I felt something like a yearning for a piercing sorrow, a body-wrenching sorrow. His occupation gave me the feeling of "tragedy" in the most sensuous meaning of the word. A certain feeling as it were of "self-renunciation," a certain feeling of indifference, a certain feeling of intimacy with danger, a feeling like a remarkable mixture of nothingness and vital power—all these feelings swarmed forth from his calling, bore down upon me, and took me captive, at the age of four. Probably I had a misconception of the work of a night-soil man.Probably I had been told of some different occupation and, misled by his costume, was forcibly fitting his job into the pattern of what I had heard. I cannot otherwise explain it.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Rinaldo, who was no simpleton, hearing these words and seeing the lady's eyes sparkle, advanced towards her with open arms, saying, 'Madam, considering that I owe it to you to say that I am now alive and having regard to that from which you delivered me, it were great unmannerliness in me, did I not study to do everything that may be agreeable to you; wherefore do you embrace me and kiss me to your heart's content, and I will kiss and clip you more than willingly.' There needed no more words. The lady, who was all afire with amorous longing, straightway threw herself into his arms and after she had strained him desirefully to her bosom and bussed him a thousand times and had of him been kissed as often, they went off to her chamber, and there without delay betaking themselves to bed, they fully and many a time, before the day should come, satisfied their desires one of the other. Whenas the day began to appear, they arose,--it being her pleasure, so the thing might not be suspected of any,--and she, having given him some sorry clothes and a purse full of money and shown him how he should go about to enter the town and find his servant, put him forth at the postern whereby he had entered, praying him keep the matter secret. As soon as it was broad day and the gates were opened, he entered the town, feigning to come from afar, and found his servant. Therewithal he donned the clothes that were in the saddle-bags and was about to mount the man's horse and depart, when, as by a miracle, it befell that the three highwaymen, who had robbed him overnight, having been a little after taken for some other misdeed of them committed, were brought into the town and on their confession, his horse and clothes and money were restored to him, nor did he lose aught save a pair of garters, with which the robbers knew not what they had done. Rinaldo accordingly gave thanks to God and St. Julian and taking horse, returned home, safe and sound, leaving the three rogues to go kick on the morrow against the wind."[87] [Footnote 87: _i.e._ to be hanged or, in the equivalent English idiom, to dance upon nothing.] THE THIRD STORY [Day the Second] THREE YOUNG MEN SQUANDER THEIR SUBSTANCE AND BECOME POOR; BUT A NEPHEW OF THEIRS, RETURNING HOME IN DESPERATION, FALLETH IN WITH AN ABBOT AND FINDETH HIM TO BE THE KING'S DAUGHTER OF ENGLAND, WHO TAKETH HIM TO HUSBAND AND MAKETH GOOD ALL HIS UNCLES' LOSSES, RESTORING THEM TO GOOD ESTATE

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  My inherent deficiency of blood had first implanted in me the impulse to dream of bloodshed. And in its turn that impulse had caused me to lose more and more of the stuff of blood from my body, thereby further increasing my lust for blood. This enfeebling life of dreaming sharpened and exercised my imagination. Although I was not yet acquainted with the works of De Sade, the description of the Colosseum in Quo Vadis had made a deep impression on me, and by myself I had dreamed up the idea of a murder theater. There, in my murder theater, young Roman gladiators offered up their lives for my amusement; and all the deaths that took place there not only had to overflow with blood but also had to be performed with all due ceremony. I delighted in all forms of capital punishment and all implements of execution. But I would allow no torture devices nor gallows, as they would not have provided a spectacle of outpouring blood. Nor did I like explosive weapons, such as pistols or guns. So far as possible I chose primitive and savage weapons—arrows, daggers, spears. And in order to prolong the agony, it was the belly that must be aimed at. The sacrificial victim must send up long-drawn-out, mournful, pathetic cries, making the hearer feel the unutterable loneliness of existence. Thereupon my joy of life, blazing up from some secret place deep within me, would finally give its own shout of exultation, answering the victim cry for cry. Was this not exactly similar to the joy ancient man found in the hunt? The weapon of my imagination slaughtered many a Grecian soldier, many white slaves of Arabia, princes of savage tribes, hotel elevator-boys, waiters, young toughs, army officers, circus roustabouts. . . . I was one of those savage marauders who, not knowing how to express their love, mistakenly kill the persons they love. I would kiss the lips of those who had fallen to the ground and were still moving spasmodically. From some allusion or other I had conceived an instrument of execution contrived in such a way that a thick board studded with scores of upright daggers, arranged in the shape of a human figure, would come sliding down a rail upon a cross of execution fixed to the other side of the rail. There was an execution factory where mechanical drills for piercing the human body were always running, where the blood juice was sweetened, canned, and put on the market. Within the head of this middle-school student innumerable victims were bound with their hands behind them and escorted to the Colosseum. The impulse gradually grew stronger within me, arriving one day at a daydream that was probably one of the basest of which man is capable.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  But the princess was not yet willing to part with her charming maid and so, very leisurely, as if in a dream, she began to caress her, using the soap with her hands to give the appearance of washing the lady, but really only wanting to touch her more intimately. She was seized with a curiosity to know what the other woman felt like and how she compared with herself; but more than that she was aching with a need to please and be pleased by her. It wasn’t long before the maid was consumed by the same desires as the princess, and she too began to gently touch and explore her friend’s body. They each marveled at the little peculiarities of their otherwise similar female charms. Little by little they became more familiar with each other, discovering, as only women who indulge in this most extravagant form of self-love do, how exquisite it is to touch one so much like herself. Oh, how sweet to feel her lover’s nipple harden between her fingers as she strokes the plump mound lovingly. How it excites her to glide her hand alongside the other’s body and caress the enticing curves of waist and hip and round buttock. Her heart can hardly bear it when, searching below the small triangle of hair at the junction of two smooth legs, she finally discovers the tiny bud that causes the other to shudder—much in the same way that a touch there makes her shudder. She cannot resist slipping a finger into that womanly softness and feeling the warm, silky wetness within. Covered in pearly suds, they eagerly caressed each other, discovering with delight that, despite their little distinctions, they were indeed very much alike. With no more need to act under the ruse of bathing, the princess and her maid rinsed away the soap and waded to the shore. They leisurely dried each other’s bodies, giggling, and teasing each other brazenly. They decided that one pallet was all they required for the night and excitedly set to work. Like two fairies in an enchanted wood they scurried about, delighting in their nakedness. The bedding was at last arranged, and timidly the maid lay down upon it. The princess nestled alongside her maid and softly kissed her lips. The maid returned her kiss ardently, pressing her body against the princess’s. They embraced like long-lost lovers, dropping one languorous kiss after another onto smooth, rosy lips. Between kisses they whispered endearments to each other, wholeheartedly declaring their affection, and it was exquisite for both when breasts touched breasts, legs glided over smooth legs, and shiny wet openings rubbed eagerly against the other. They were now terribly excited and longing for more.