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 have checked the position of the sofa in my classroom very carefully, and to this end insisted that we take our afternoon stroll in the garden past the right wing of the estate. I could establish to my own satisfaction that the place of our mutual pleasure which had not been put on the planned curriculum, was invisible to any viewer from the outside.

We had barely returned into the classroom when I asked Francois to continue the lecture he had started upon the sofa. I wanted to make sure that we would have enough time ahead of us and that we would not be again so rudely interrupted before we had started anything of real interest. The good start of that morning had given me a foretaste of possible pleasures and I did not want to lose a single precious moment. I take off my drawers myself, and begin to unbutton the leg coverings of my charming teacher. I had never done anything of the sort, and my fingers were not as nimble as I thought they were. Moreover, Francois had taken my hand, and guided it into the opening I had made, before I had finished unbuttoning him completely...

Francois kneels in front of the sofa upon which I am stretched out, and he only has to come a little bit closer so that I can see his thing, the object of my desire and curiosity.

There it is! I am holding it between my fingers and I can feel it jerk! I touch it, I caress it, and I look upon it with great, unexplainable desire... I also notice that it is heavy; much, much heavier than those of the statues in the park. And it is quite long! But it does not seem to be a mistake—on the contrary...

I also notice that it is getting harder and harder; it feels very warm and it is beginning to throb. It seems to be very happy with my caresses, because it is jumping for joy. I think that that is very sweet. I admire it, my eyes devour it and I bend myself so close to it that my face almost touches it...

Suddenly I know a name for it: Francinet! Little Francinet, delicious Francinet...

But suddenly my Francois—the tall one— stands bolt upright. He makes Francinet disappear into the depths of his breeches... Why?

That was the entire lecture for this afternoon.

* * *

I do not know if I am making any progress at all in Latin, but I have learned a lot in the art of caressing.

Francois has taught me how Francinet wants to be caressed. And I have tried. Obviously, the first time I was rather clumsy, though it seems that Francinet enjoyed it very much. It is, by the way, much easier than I had thought. Francois helps me and I take Francinet between thumb and index finger, closing them as if they were a ring.

And now Francinet is a prisoner!

He is beautiful, very beautiful. I can feel that Francinet is tremendously delighted; so is Francois. Soon Francinet swells to enormous proportions and then, all of a sudden, he becomes tiny, very tiny...

Francois is of the opinion that I have done it too quickly, and he patiently explains that tomorrow we will proceed at a much slower pace. He has promised me that Francinet will be able to remain large much longer and that the pleasure will be greater and more beautiful.

* * *

We were again in the park, standing in front of Leda. And Francois explains:

“Jacqueline, my dearest, when I caress you with my fingers, it seems beautiful to you. But you should know how much more beautiful it is when I caress you there with my tongue, much like the swan is caressing Leda with its bill...â€

“Oh, Francois!†I feign surprise.

* * *

“Oh, Francois, quick, quick, I want to feel the caresses of your tongue...â€

Francois puts me down upon the sofa and shoves a pillow under my buttocks. I lay down upon the sofa as if it is an altar, and I feel as if I am about to be sacrificed. Shivers of anticipation run up and down my spine. Francois kneels now in front of me, and spreads my legs carefully apart. He tells me to cross them over his back.

My treasure, framed by my curly golden fleece, is moist and warm. It is also opened and awaiting the promised caresses. Francois' greedy mouth approaches.

“Oh...!†I feel his tongue kissing me, I feel it caressing my curls softly, I feel it enter slowly between the folds of my buttocks, pushing upward in between my thighs... I groan and trample my legs, knowing that this is only the preparation; the tongue carefully exploring its way to the most secret spot.

“Oh, Francois...!†Now he has reached it and this time I can feel his tongue slowly penetrating me, it works around deep inside me and, while his lips press firmly upon my fleece, I can feel his tongue work its way to my most sensitive spot. “Oh!†How beautiful, how delicious it feels. I feel him licking me, slowly sucking me, and I can feel his spittle mix with the juices of my love.

Suddenly I scream out loud, and a tremendous spasm jolts through my body.

“Oh, Francois! Francois!â€

I fall back upon the sofa and I feel satisfied, deeply satisfied; every nerve and fiber in my body is completely relaxed. I had never felt anything like it, the excitement of the moist caresses, the voluptuousness of those kisses that were imparted upon the most secret part of my being...

But I have become so terribly tired that I can feel myself sink away into a deep sleep. I have never slept so completely, so utterly and so deeply. It is an entirely new sensation.

When I open my eyes again, the first thing I see is Francois. He is reading a book. I call him, and he is near me instantly.

“Oh, Francois, my dear, dear Francois...â€

Our lips met and mingled in a long, deep kiss, under the stern eyes of the portraits in their ebony frames on the walls.