So I fucked her standing up. She must have been as hot as an oven, for she quickly reached the climax. I too was on the point of coming, due to the fatiguing position we were in, but just then we heard a noise in one of the adjoining rooms, and Ursula broke away. But the sound soon died away. I showed her my dark, red prick, dripping wet from her discharge. She looked at it, and was moved because, as she said, it was the first time she'd ever seen a city fellow's prick.

"All right now, tit for tat," I said. "Let's see yours."

She responded modestly. I raised her skirt, laid bare a pair of lovely legs and, between her thighs, an impressive mop of black hair. Thanks be to God she was not wearing panties, as the city-bred girls do, who put on all sorts of airs when you meddle with their roots, despite the fact that they really like it as much, if not more than the peasant girls.

Then I stuck my nose into her Lady Jane; it gave off the odor of raw egg – due to her recent discharge – and of piss. When I began to tongue her clitoris she laughed and let her skirt fall back into place. But I held on tight and, squatting beneath the folds of her dress, let my tongue wander at random across the length and breadth of her body, as a result of which I got an even more impressive hard on. But the sounds began anew, and Ursula broke away again, this time for good.

I was obliged to leave, but as Ursula turned to go I lifted her skirts one last time from behind, revealing a pair of really splendid, extraordinarily firm buttocks.

"Just a wee bit more, Ursula." I said, retaining her by her blouse.

I kissed the cheeks of her rump, manipulated them, opened them to smell her arse-hole, which gave off no odor of shit, but only of piss. But finally she broke away, remarking that it was beyond her powers of comprehension how a fellow like myself could get any pleasure from sniffing a poor peasant girl's stinking parts.

That evening, at dinner, I discreetly asked Berthe if I couldn't please fuck her. She said no. I went upstairs later to see if I might perhaps find the opportunity of doing what I so badly wanted to do. Result: zero.

The covers of my bed were already turned down. I undressed and, stretching out on my belly, spread a handkerchief beneath me, hugged my pillow and, thinking of my aunt, my sister, of all the cunts and buttocks with which I'd ever come in contact, I softly began to stroke alone. Then I rested awhile before starting the procedure allover again. Just as I felt my sperm coming, I heard a voice from behind the door say: "Are you already asleep, Master Roger? I've brought you your water."

I rose, slipped on a dressing gown, and opened the door. It was Helen, one of the girls who worked in the kitchen. As soon as she was inside, I locked the door. So great was my desire that my prick was throbbing like a pendulum.

I grabbed the lovely, prettily dressed peasant girl's sturdy buttocks and as I fondled her breasts, planted a pair of savory kisses full on her mouth.

She took it in the right spirit, but when I reached her love lips she said, blushing: "It's my period." Just my luck! I was as erect as a bare-footed friar, and she was looking at my prick good-naturedly. She played with it prettily. At least I could amuse myself with her hanging gardens. I opened her jacket and her breasts slipped into my waiting hands. Like the girl herself, they were freckled, but aside from that I saw nothing to reproach them for.

I didn't stop pestering her till she let me see, although against her will, her buttocks and Lady Jane, to whose crinkly, reddish hair blood was sticking. I pushed her onto a chair and let her place my dick between her breasts. A most practical method: it disappeared among the fleshy folds of her delectable hillocks. But it would have been better with a bit of lubrication. I told her so. She spat on my prick and squeezed it tightly between her boobies. On top the glans peeked out, and at the bottom my balls were hanging down.

I began to rock back and forth, whispering sweet words to her and at the same time caressing her face or playing with the wisps of curls along her neck. A powerful discharge followed, which she watched attentively, for the position was as novel for her as it was for me.

Having had my fill, I made her a gift of a silk scarf, which she gratefully accepted, once again excusing herself for her condition. She added that the girls who worked with her in the kitchen were late in going to bed, but that they slept much later in the morning than the others who rose early to go milking. Should I venture up there some morning, I'd find more than enough to keep me happy.

I was overjoyed by the news. The following morning I gave out that I was going to build a bird house for the doves under the eaves, in order to have an excuse for climbing to the maids' garret. But I was constantly interrupted and my project came to nought.

Once I managed to watch Berthe in the toilet, and once Kate, and so got a peek at their cunts. But because of the inclement weather my aunt and mother sewed assiduously: neither Kate nor Berthe dared touch my prick as they went by.

To pass the time more pleasantly, I'd drilled a hole inthe toilet partition; the toilet itself was nothing more than a hole inthe ground.

And I could thus spend my afternoons watching all the girls and ladies piss, shit and fart. I could study buttocks, pot holes and Lady Janes in all their glory, and I remarked that among them there was little to choose from except difference of hair color and size. I became convinced of the truth of a statement attributed to a farm lad whom a countess had allowed to screw her. Asked how it had been, the lad replied: "The blouse was of finer material, but aside from that just like with any other woman."

I thus passed my time contemplating all the cunts and buttocks in the chateau, and the sight of even those I had already had was a source of constant pleasure to me.

Meanwhile, I'd given Ursula a pretty shawl, for it had not been her fault that I hadn't been able to fuck her completely. The other girls had noticed it, and without exception became extremely nice to me, for they were no dummies, and were quick to realize how pleasant it must be both to be fucked and to receive a present to boot.

At least that's what one of them told me one morning early, when the profound silence was broken only by the distant rumor of goings and comings in the stables.

I had gone upstairs and discovered an unlocked door which led into two of the maids' bedroom.

The room's atmosphere was one of the mixed odors emanating from the girls' bodies. Their clothes were hanging in disarray from wooden pegs, or were draped across the foot of the bed. At first these odors were disagreeable, but as soon as one got used to them they became exciting rather than suffocating: the veritable odor di femina - the perfume which gives an erection.

The beds, made in the ancient style, were double. They were all empty except one, in which a lass lay snoring deeply.

She was lying on her side, turned toward the wall. One of her feet was on the wooden bedstead, and her buttocks were nicely exposed, since she was sleeping in the nude.

Her coarse nightdress was draped over a wooden chair, on which the rest of her clothes were also strewn. The sleeping beauty, whose name was Babette, had not the faintest notion that she was being scrutinized from head to toe. Her skin could have been softer, but her frame, though rough-hewn, was not skinny.

I brought my head close to her buttocks and inhaled the penetrating odor of sweat. Her arse-hole showed a few traces of her last shitting. Below it her well-formed slit, crowned by chestnut hair, was clearly visible.

I softly tickled her buttocks' cheeks and cunt. As soon as I had inserted my finger she gave a start and turned round, and I could contemplate her from in front. Her fleece was crinkly and smelled strongly of urine, which fact I remarked when I stuck my nose against it.