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Updated: May 15, 2025
In the Pervigilium Veneris with its elaborate simplicity partly a conscious literary artifice, partly a real reversion to the childhood of poetical form this process is, as it were, laid bare before our eyes; the ringing phrases turn and return, and expand and interlace and fold in, as though set in motion by a strain of music.
For in a few moments he continued his delicious play, titillating the interior of my Mons Veneris, while he caressed my clitoris with his thumb, sending a lava of delight through my frame. In spite of all my endeavors not to appear too lascivious, I could not help moving my buttocks in response to his soul inspiring touches I felt the crisis approaching.
"I must once more taste the delights of heaven," he returned. "We shall have no opportunity until tomorrow, dear Amy, and I am not half satisfied yet." He withdrew himself from her and wiping the throne of love gently with his pocket handkerchief, he stooped down and kissed her Mons Veneris.
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