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t ended as it was sure to end, in my gradually toying with her from one excitement to another, until she was completely fucked in her thirteenth year.

Ten years after that epoch I lost my beloved wife, and would have been quite inconsolable but for the sympathizing endearments of this darling child, who became so necessary to my existence that twelve months after my adored wife’s decease I married her. She was a perfect Italian beauty, and no one supposed she was other than an orphan adopted by my late wife.

Now, in my old age, she is the comfort of my life and the mother of my beautiful son, whom we have named Charley Nixon, in memory of both my first adored wife and my guardian, through whom he will inherit great wealth. The dear little fellow is now eighteen years of age, handsome, well grown, and very well furnished, although not so monstrous in that way as his father. His dear mother has initiated him in every delight, and he has all the fire of lust that his old father had before him. He often comes to us at night, indeed, it is the only thing that enables me from time to time to get a cockstand and a fuck at his mother. To see them in all the agonies of lust, fucking furiously before my delighted eyes, so excites me now and then, for, alas, it has come to be a gratification few and far between. But occasionally to suck up his young sperm after the excitement of their love combat produces a stiffness for my beautiful wife to mount upon me and then have our charming son to put his prick into her bottom for this, too, is necessary to my failing vigour, and the contact of his vigorous young prick against the thin filmy substance separating us feels as nothing. I am long in spending, and his delighted mother gets two and sometime three delicious discharges in her arse before my lazy prick deluges her cunt with my incestuous sperm.

We are thus a happy family, bound by the strong ties of double incestuous lust. It is necessary to have these loved objects to fall back upon, for alas! all the earlier partakers of my prick are now dead and gone. Aunt and uncle, the Dales, the Nichols, my beloved Benson, and her friends the Egertons.

I have already mentioned the Count’s death, and both my sisters have left me alone, and I should have been a dreary and solitary old man but for my beloved wife and son, who solace me and replace the void in my heart I should otherwise have so sadly felt.

I shall here end this long tale of my erotic life.

A curious event has happened lately, the divorce of a Mr. Cavendish from his wife for adultery with the young Count de la Rochefoucault. The details brought before the court were of the most scandalous nature, especially the letters exchanged between them when the Count had to go to Rome, where he was attaché to the French Embassy. When the husband’s counsel handed up the letters with the sworn notary’s translation, he remarked that he thought they were too horribly scandalous to be read in court. The judge scanned a few of them, and, addressing the counsel said—

“I am perfectly of your opinion, my learned brother, I shall take them home and make a point of them in my address to the jury.”

It will be seen that they were of such a nature that doubtless the old judge, who was no other than my dear old chum Harry Dale, gave his wife two or three extra fucks on the strength of the lust produced by those exciting and extraordinary lascivious letters from a young man of only twenty-one years of age, showing quite as early an initiation into all the luxury of the utmost depravity as any of my own details of my early experiences with my darling old aunt.

Some of the letters are a string of imaginary events as to how far they could carry their imaginations. The Count constantly alludes to the inferiority of his descriptions to those given in her replies. Alas! as he possesses those exciting replies of the lady, they cannot be got at, but from his descriptions, and the remarks on certain gross familiarities, it’s evident she was gifted with as lascivious and lustful a temperament as either my aunt or the divine Frankland.

A chance threw these interesting letters into my possession, and I can assure the reader they are the veritable sworn translations of the letters found in Mrs. Cavendish’s davenport when it was broken open by her husband, and produced on the trial. The Count had evidently dreaded such an event, and it will be seen he constantly implores her to destroy his letters as soon as read. But, with the infatuation of her sex, she kept them to furnish the sole evidence by which she lost her place in society and became a lost woman. It is added that she was a woman of forty-five, and the mother of several children, but it is these randy voluptuous matrons who have the most attractions to a young man who feels flattered and is proud of, as he thinks, conquering a woman in a good position in society. It is evident enough that she was no tyro in every depravity of lust, and probably had passed through many hands before he gained her. He appears to have been really cunt-struck, which, as I have before observed, is one of the strongest infatuations that a man can have.

END OF VOLUME IV.

ADDENDA

LETTERS

PRODUCED IN THE DIVORCE-CASE

CAVENDISH

_v_.

CAVENDISH AND ROCHEFOUCAULT.

Rome, _Saturday_

_August 6th, 1859, 10 o’clock_.

I tried last night, my angel, to write you a half sheet, but it was as much as I could do to read your letter a second time, and it was only by making a great effort that I was able to write a few lines. However, this morning I will try and continue, in order to reward you, not for that one which you have deprived me of from pique, but for those bewitching ones which I have lately received.

I have just received your letter 17, begun August 3rd, 11 o’clock at night, and bless you for the idea of addressing it to Pal. B., it is infinitely preferable, and there is no fear of any risk (“indiscretion” in original) either now or later.

I am delighted when I think of the pleasure you derived from what I sent you the other day. I only decided upon it in fear and trembling. I do not understand what you mean by letter direct to Albert. If you do not send it per Embassy bag I should not have it here till Monday; you would have done much better to have put it in the parcel. All last night I slept very badly, no doubt in consequence of a presentiment I had that I should not receive a half sheet, and that you were annoyed at my going to Albano, and I thought of a mass of things as disagreeable as they are painful. Of your birthday, for instance, the 1st of October, which will be an opportunity for II * [* II stands for her husband] to make you a present in return for the set of studs which you gave him on his birthday, when you, no doubt, will give him something.

As to your brown cloak which II gave you, &c. &c., I request that on your birthday when he makes you his usual present, whatever it may be, you accept it a