caresses preface caresses chapter 1 caresses chapter 2 caresses  chapter 3 caresses chapter 4 caresses chapter 5 caresses chapter 6 caresses chapter 7 caresses chapter 8 caresses chapter caresses chapter 10 caresses chapter 11 caresses chapter 12 caresses chapter 13 caresses chapter 14 caresses chapter 15 caresses chapter 16 caresses chapter 17 caresses chapter 18 caresses chapter 19 caresses chapter 20 caresses chapter 21 caresses chapter 22 caresses chapter 23 caresses chapter 24 caresses chapter 25 caresses chapter 26

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caresses intimate memoirs of Jaqueline de R


The Intimate Memoirs of Jaqueline de R


I was quite apprehensive when the first day of my lessons approached.

My aunt had given, my new teacher living quarters in the right wing of the castle. He now occupied the rooms on the second floor, which had been empty ever since my uncle retired into the monastery.

The apartment consisted of three rooms, two of which were living quarters for Francois, and the third one was supposed to be our classroom. I did not like this room at all, since it had retained the austerity of the days past. Rows of books were standing upon the shelves on the wall, and the portraits of monks and stern philosophers seemed to stare disdainfully down upon the small sofa, the only elegant piece of furniture in the entire room. And, indeed, this little sofa became the focal point of a little pastime which the noble people in their black ebony frames would have frowned upon, if not downright condemned!

But this room with the large windows which opened up into the estate's park was soon to become one of the most pleasant places for me to be.

* * *

I had noticed that very first day that Francois was a very good-looking young man. He was extremely shy that first morning, when I entered to receive my instruction. He blushed and stuttered when he began to ask me the first, innocent questions.

But soon he grew bolder and looked at me with penetrating eyes which seemed to be more concerned with my looks than with his thoughts about how to teach me philosophy. I was well aware that I had made a deep impression upon my tutor, but I was not about to let him know immediately that I had guessed his innermost thoughts. I therefore sat down beside my teacher like a nice, obedient little girl, allowing him to glance down my neckline which plunged rather deeply, as far as nice little girls are concerned.

Francois trembled slightly, and it seemed to take all his will power to avert his eyes from my firm little breasts whose nipples strained against the body-hugging silk of my blouse.

I could not help myself, but my desires were awakened by this good-looking teacher of mine who, himself, had great trouble to hide his increasing passion for me!

During this first lesson we did not talk much. All he did was to review briefly my existing knowledge of Latin and the few other subjects I had taken.

After we had taken our meal, Francois and I went into the park for a little stroll. This was part of the daily curriculum which my good aunt had worked out for us.

Francois is walking next to me, from time to time taking my arm. It seems that he has become a little bit more sure of himself. I hope he has recognized the fact that I am a precocious girl. I aim to find out shortly.

We have approached a beautiful marble statue. Leda is leaning back and the swan, white as fresh-fallen snow, rubs its long neck voluptuously between the legs of the goddess, caressing her with its bill.

I stand still, admiring this beautiful grouping. Leda has a marvelous expression of satisfied passion, and looking at this passion which one can only guess and which I have been hungering to experience, always excites me.

Francois also has stopped walking, and he is standing right next to me. I innocently ask him many questions about Leda and the Swan. Does he believe my hypocritical innocence, or has he discovered my little game? He blushes, his hand presses my arm tighter, and quickly we walk away from the statue, continuing our stroll.

On our way back we again pass the statue of Leda and the Swan. Again I ask him, smilingly, to explain the mystery of Leda's facial expression. Finally Francois offers to explain to me the whole story of the divine Leda and her mysterious partner.

He puts it in such a way that I have reason to believe he has understood me...

* * *

Two days have gone by, and Francois still has not explained the mystery of Leda. I do not dare to ask him, or to remind him of his promise. The Latin hours are monotonous and boring.

* * *

One day, it seems that Francois has made up his mind. He looks rather tired and strange that morning. Like any other diligent and obedient pupil, I sit down in front of my little lectern and look up at him, awaiting the morning's first lesson.

But he remains standing behind me, and waits till I start writing. I am well aware of his glances and I know that he is looking down my neckline and feasting his eyes upon my little, well-formed breasts. I can feel that, this time, he is terribly excited! Suddenly he throws his arms around my waist and presses a light kiss upon my shoulder.

I shiver, and get up from my seat. I walk around the desk and stretch myself out upon the little sofa. Francois follows me with his eyes. When he notices that I do not put up any resistance, and it becomes apparent to him that I desire him as much as he does me, he walks over to me, and kneels beside the sofa, murmuring softly.

“Oh! Jacqueline, Jacqueline, is it possible...?â€

“Francois, oh... my Francois!†I whisper, offering my lips to his. His panting mouth comes closer.

The kiss lingers on and on, Francois slowly lifts my dress, his hands slowly caress my legs. They instinctively close around his hands. But he still succeeds to reach my little drawers, pulling them down over my knees. Not long afterward, my foot kicks them impatiently to the floor. The only obstacle left is my thin, silken chemise which, too, is quickly removed. My teacher indulges himself with me in some of the most marvelous caresses I ever experienced.

Of course, custom demands that I put up token resistance. And it is exactly this resistance which makes it easier for Francois' hand to more fully explore the area. He has found the curls of my little blonde fleece under which this very secret and also very sensitive little spot is hidden. Then he, too, finds that little spot, and his caressing hand lingers there.

Francois continues his caresses for a long, long time. I am beginning to pant, and my hand automatically goes out toward my teacher, rubbing along his legs, trying to find the corresponding spot on his body.

Alas, we have no time to continue our little game. The sound of the dinner bell interrupts the magic, even before my nimble fingers had succeeded to unbutton that part of his breeches which are hiding the object of my intense curiosity.

Mealtime has been announced and we have to make haste bringing our appearances in order before we can walk to the dining room where my dear aunt is awaiting us.