THE TWENTY-EIGHTH DAY

‘Twas a wedding day, and the turn of Cupidon and Rosette to be united in holy matrimony, and by still another fateful combination of accidents, both were listed for punishment that evening. As no one was found at fault that morning, that entire part of the day was devoted to the wedding ceremony, and when it was over, the newlyweds were brought into the salon to see what they would do together. The mysteries of Venus were, as we know, often celebrated in these children’s presence; although none of them had so far taken an active part in them, they were well enough grounded in the theory of the thing to be able to execute about everything that there is to do. Cupidon, his prick very rigidly aloft, insinuated his little peg between Rosette’s thighs, and she lent herself to his maneuvers with all the candor of the most thorough innocence; the young lad was managing so nicely that he was probably well on the way to success when the Bishop, taking him in his arms, had put in himself what, I fancy, the child would greatly have liked to put into his little wife; all the while he perforated the Bishop’s ample hole, he regarded her with eyes which declared his regrets, but she was herself soon occupied: the Duc thigh-fucked her. Curval stepped up in the lewdest fashion to fondle the ass of the Bishop’s little fucker, and as that pretty little ass was found, in keeping with instructions, in the desired state, he licked it and began to stiffen. Durcet was up to the same tricks with the little girl the Duc was holding with her chest pressed to his.
However, no one discharged, and Messieurs went in to dine; the young bride and groom, who had been admitted to the table, also appeared to serve coffee, together with Augustine and Zélamir. And the voluptuous Augustine, deeply distressed over not having won the prize for beauty the night before, had, as though sulking, left her hair in just that kind of disarray which rendered her a thousand times more intriguing to see. Curval was stirred by the sight, and, examining her buttocks:
“I fail to understand how it happened that this little rascal did not win the palm,” said he, “for devil take me if in all the world there exists a finer ass than this one here.”
So saying, he pried it open, and inquired of Augustine whether she were ready to do her old friend a great kindness. “Oh, yes,” she replied, “a very great one indeed, for I really have to get rid of what I have there.” Curval rests her upon a sofa and, kneeling before that radiant behind, he devours its turd in a flash.
“Sacred name of God,” says he, licking his lips, turning toward his colleagues, and pointing to the prick straining against his abdomen, “I’m in a state for furiously undertaking something or other.”
“And what would it be?” asked the Duc, who was very fond of making the Président utter horrors when he was in that particular state.
“What?” said Curval. “Why, whatever infamy you wish to propose, even were it to dismember Nature and unhinge the universe.”
“Come along now,” said Durcet, upon seeing him cast furious glances in the direction of Augustine, “come along, let’s go listen to Duclos, it’s story time. I’m persuaded,” he went on, addressing the others, “that if he gets the bit in his teeth, that poor little duckling is going to spend a trying quarter of an hour.”
“Oh, yes!” said the inflamed Président, “a very trying one, I can vouch for that.”
“Curval,” said the Duc, whose prick was nodding in the air like a vengeful lance, and who had just finished eliciting some shit from Rosette, “let the others entrust the harem to the two of us, and two hours from now we’ll have turned in a capital performance.”
Durcet and the Bishop, at the moment calmer than their coproprietors, each took one of them by the arm, and it was thus, that is to say, breeches about their ankles and pricks aloft, that those libertines made their solemn entrance into the auditorium, where the assembly was already gathered and ready to hear Duclos’ latest offerings; she, having anticipated, from those two gentlemen’s state, that she would soon be interrupted, began in these terms:

A nobleman at the court, aged about fifty-five, came and asked me for one of the prettiest girls I could lay my hands on.