Letters from a Friend in Paris- Letter-1

Note for Administrator/Moderator not to be published

During my visit to London for studies where we had an Old Ancestral Home, I stumbled on a family treasure. Apart from money and other things I also found a hump of books, dairies and notes in the treasure which contained classic, Age old, Erotic books, Novels, and Magazines probably collected by my Ancestors. They are all timeless and precious. They are a must read for all erotica lovers. I want to share them on this site, If you will permit it. i am seeking your permission

This is One such sample.. Hope you like it and permit it.

Regards Aamir

The friend in Paris is Harry. Harry Hargrove, photographer. Young, beautiful women come to Harry’s studio to have their portrait taken, but while there, one thing leads to another, and randy Harry’s life becomes one big Parisian orgy. Before internet porn, before porn videos, before porn movies, people lusting for raunchy, X-rated entertainment read pornographic books and magazines. Victorian and Edwardian England had its own adult entertainment industry – countless erotic novels were put out by shady publishers, some books were printed by the authors themselves, and most of the writers were anonymous. Many of these 19th century books are surprisingly kinky, and some of them may be quite offensive to modern day readers – in more ways than one. The anonymously written ”Letters from a Friend in Paris” was first published in 1874. This novel is a great example of Victorian erotica.

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LETTER-1

Paris, Faubourg St. Honore; the first letter from Harry Hargrove to his friend Charles in England

I promised, my dear fellow, in memory of our old school adventures, that I would tell you all the late singular events that have happened to me. You may rest assured that this letter, and those that follow it, will contain nothing but the simple truth, and that I shall not hesitate to confess my own sins, while I am obliged to give the history of those of my two young friends.

There never was a more singular and piquant affair in all the world, and, as for myself, it suited me exactly.

You know that I am rather fond of this sort of thing. An artist by nature, as well as profession, when I took up photography last year, it was with a secret hope and longing that some sort of adventure might enliven my career in this fashionably patronised art.

Suffice it to say, I shall write just as I thought, felt and acted.