I have always regretted the lack of raw erotic detail in the most remarkable works of fiction. This frustration is by no means compensated for by the high availability of lurid, pornographic books. When reading fiction, I do not look for arousal, but for precision. I am interested to know how Vronsky behaved in bed, as compared to Karenin. I wonder if Julien Sorel, so cocksure in salons, played also the master in intimacy and, if yes, how. One of my favorite characters in Romanian literature is Caty Zanoaga from Calinescu's novel, The Black Chest-of-Drawers.
She is charming, high-spirited and extremely sensual. There are several, very different, men in her life. Her first husband, the diplomat, is the initiator, whom she loves dearly. Then she seduces Oster, a rich banker from Argentine, who offers her protection, but not fulfillment. An adventure with prince Hangerliu stirs her imagination. Eventually, she takes as a second husband a "real man", colonel Gavrilcea, who guides her through the labyrinth of mature sex. However, we might only guess how she actually treated these men. She would have been tender and playful with the diplomat, cooperative with the banker, sophisticated with the prince and submissive to the colonel. The author provides plenty of detail on her clothes, few on her body and less on her practices. One reads The Three Musketeers
at an age when one is more interested in duels and plots than in erotic games. Thus, one misses the point as far as Milady's hatred against d'Artagnan is concerned. The chapter 5 of the second part, At night, all cats are black
is a masterpiece of spicy erotic confusion, which remains unnoticed because of the lack of explicit detail. In the sequel, we try to fill in what Dumas preferred to leave out. We attempted to integrate seamlessly our text in the famous novel. A man with a plan
D'Artagnan brooded while heading to his dreary, bachelor's room. His youthful charm did not seem to impress Milady. His tell-tale glances, his well-cut uniform, which set out his vigor, were useless. Milady listened to him listlessly, barely hiding a yawn under a smile. The Gascon knew only too well where her thoughts were wandering. First the hazard, then the complicity of Milady's maid had let him know that Milady almost begged count de Wardes for his love. Sheer indifference had managed to humble this woman, the proudest of the proud, into submission. D'Artagnan naïvely thought that Milady's frustrated love would naturally be diverted to him. He felt superior to de Wardes, whom he had wounded in a duel. As a matter of fact, the prolonged recovery was responsible for the count's unresponsiveness to erotic advances. For the young man, it was difficult to understand how a woman could prefer over him precisely the man he had humiliated. Like many lads of his age, he took the erotic satisfaction as a reward for effort, and recognition of excellence. A daring plan was forming slowly in the tortured mind of our hero. What if he impersonated de Wardes and possessed Milady by procurement, so to speak? In those times, people blew out the candles when making love, so the risk to be discovered was fairly low. There was, however, a burden on his soul. He had little erotic experience and, moreover, it had been mainly acquired in the company of young peasants and maids, so he was only too aware of his lack of sophistication. De Wardes may have been less well-hung, but more of an expert. He would have gladly turned towards his friends for a piece of advice. However, he was too shy to bring such matters to Athos and he feared Porthos's banter. Eventually he dropped at Aramis's for a bit of training. "My dear d'Artagnan," said Aramis, "I am glad you trust me and I would gladly teach you several ways of getting close, a wide range of caresses, and some tricks for differing the outcome. However, I think it is pointless to stick to theory; a little practice instead would work miracles. I must confess that the grace of your slender body rather appeals to me and arouses my pedagogic instincts.""O gosh," said d'Artagnan, completely taken aback. "With all due respect, I had rather not to. Please, do not feel hurt, but I think I'll have just to trust my instincts.""No offence taken, dearest d'Artagnan. Here is a suggestion: remember you are de Wardes, a man still in his convalescence. Pretend the doctor has forbidden you all sudden movements and let her do the job." First night with Milady
It was late in the evening when Kitty, Milady's maid and d'Artagnan's accomplice, led the young man into Milady's closet. The room, lit by just one candle, was dim and d'Artagnan wore a large hat. He felt the beats of his heart in his neck. "Come in, count, come in, I was so impatient. Why have you been avoiding me for such a long time?""I am still very weak from my wounds. I feared I would make a poor job and did not want to disappoint you.""Don't worry, count, and let me enjoy your presence. Make yourself comfortable."D'Artagnan took off his hat and his mantle and held Milady close to him. Her face was buried in his chest, so that, for the time being at least, there was not a chance for him to get caught. Milady moved her deft hands all over him. "I do not like the feel of your clothes," she murmured, "take them off.""Please, could we blow the candle out?""Are you shy, or what?""Please, just for my sake," the lad mumbled.Once in complete darkness, d'Artagnan got bolder. He took off all his clothes and scattered them around. Milady's silk linen ruffled softly in the dark. The arousal had gone, the naked youngster felt lonely and embarrassed, like the day he was recruited in the musketeers' corps. Suddenly, he felt two soft hands at the back of his neck; they came down slowly, mildly caressing his spine, and finally settled firmly on his buttocks. Two lips were exploring his chest, now kissing, now biting a nipple. They went down on the belly; the hands still held his buttocks tightly and seemed to try to model the muscles into a new form. The tip of a tongue entered the navel, then, as if frightened, went down towards the crotch, moving swiftly through the mass of abundant hair that covered the boy's underbelly. By this time, d'Artagnan got really aroused, his robust dick erect, thrusting into the nowhere. The tongue had retired, only the hands were still on his buttocks. Sitting on her knees, Milady first avoided all contact with the soldier's manhood; she touched it with her long neck and, moving up a little, with her breasts. D'Artagnan was about to act, to get hold of the situation, but he felt helpless. The woman had encircled one of his legs with her thighs, her breasts just above his knee, her love hair around his ankle. She gulped when she took the wild cock in her mouth and pumped, while her finger explored delicately the man's asshole. D'Artagnan's hands rested upon Milady's head, fondling her long hair, and then started to move it to and fro, gently at first, spasmodically after. It was the first time in his life that d'Artagnan experienced such a sensation. He tried to make it last, but Milady seemed in a frenzy. She got hold with one hand of the outside part of the rod and, with combined efforts of lips and fingers, made it explode. D'Artagnan stood a trembling, groaning softly, incapable of taking control of himself. "I kept you too long standing up, count. Please, excuse me. Will you rest in bed now?"He lied down and let her hands wander from his toes to the back neck, from his ankles to the lips. Detachedly, she played with the hairs that covered abundantly his legs. No word was said. Second night with Milady
"I gather you had quite a success, a triumph, my friend," said Aramis, stirred by d'Artagnan's account. "Well, yes, but I felt used, as if I
had been the woman. Had it not been a one-time blowjob, I could have tried also other, more appropriate ways of getting laid.""Why should it remain a one-time job? Why not repeat the experience?""Because I made a nasty joke. I wrote her a letter on behalf of de Wardes, where I expressed my disappointment in her skills, which did not rise to my expectations.""Why on earth did you have to do that?""I was jealous of de Wardes.""That is you were jealous of yourself.""It is more complicated than that. I want her to enjoy me, not just my body with the other man's name tagged on it.""Then you must have her again, as d'Artagnan, this time.""You know, she is so furious that she would accept me, only to lead me into killing de Wardes. As a matter of fact, she invited me tonight at her place.""Well, things are settled, then.""There is something that still bothers me. What if she realizes that I and the supposed de Wardes are just one, body and soul?""Relax, man, just be you! Try to act differently; you lead the game this time, good luck!"D'Artagnan took a hot bath; poured a whole bottle of perfume all over his body, put on his best uniform and arrived at Milady's house smelling like hell. The deal was rapidly concluded. He would kill the monster de Wardes, without asking why, and would get in exchange a night with Milady. The man insisted to be paid in advance, for he risked getting killed in the duel. They went into the bedroom and Milady started to put out the candles. "Please, dearest, let them burn. I wouldn't miss any part of your delicious body," said d'Artagnan. "You, naughty boy!"Milady kept on only a short, silk blouse, almost transparent. She had long, elegant legs and her small bottom danced above them like a gummer ball. The breasts, visible under the veil, seemed to have a life of their own. She leaned on the bed looking at him indifferently. The man undressed but kept on his white, long shirt, which came down to his knees. He did not want Milady to notice any resemblance with the "other" man's body. His hairy legs and big, strong feet did not match the white softness of the shirt. He jumped in the bed and buried his head between her thighs. His musketeer's moustache tickled the woman's love nest. On his knees and elbows, d'Artagnan explored at length the intimate parts of the woman he meant to conquer. Milady opened up, put her long legs on his shoulders, relaxed and enjoyed it all. Now and then, she patted him on the head. "Come on, come on," she kept saying. She urged him to get inside her, but he wouldn't listen. He went on for a while and, suddenly, he turned her face-down and had her from behind. The ivory ass stroked the hairy underbelly. The strong, big dick got deep into the woman's no man's land. He wanted full contact, so that he raised her blouse, his shirt too, and, careful not to get expelled, he touched her smooth back with his muscled chest. He bit at her shoulder with ardor and greed and it was then that he noticed the mark, the terrible sign of dishonor: the lily
. The simple, honest young man experienced a shock which, through complex nervous concatenations went down to his member, leaving it frightened and hopelessly limp. "What has got into you? Is this the way a brave musketeer should act?" Milady cried out spitefully. D'Artagnan rested his back on the pillow, pale and helpless. Eyeing malevolently his member, now tiny and almost hid among hairs, Milady realized her secret had been disclosed. "You know it now, you'll have to die!"A dagger in her hand, she went down on the naked, helpless male. D'Artagnan managed to avoid the blow directed at his now frail manhood. He rose, moved swiftly about the room, picked up Milady's dress, wrapped himself in it and off he ran into the street. Late in the night, Aramis was awakened by a sturdy lady, all dressed up in lace, who imperiously claimed to be let in. It took him quite a while to recognize his friend in this strange attire. He helped him out of the dress and looked enviously and longingly at the beautiful body of his friend. D'Artagnan clung to Aramis, shivering. He was incapable of taking decisions, so he let himself completely in his friend's caring hands. Aramis took him to bed, cuddled him under the pillow, touched him gently, and kissed all his parts until d'Artagnan found quiet and peace.
by Adrian Mihalache