Fanny Hill

Raros são os livros eróticos em que o prazer da linguagem está ao nível do outro prazer. A Casa dos Budas Ditosos é um deles, claro. Outro é Fanny Hill, de John Cleland, de onde vem este pequeno extracto.


"My countenance expressed, no doubt, my surprise as my silence did my acquiescence. I was now embarked, and thoroughly determined on any voyage the company would take me on. The first that stood up, to open the ball, were a cornet of horse, and that sweetest of olive-beauties, the soft and amorous Louisa. He led her to the couch "nothing loth," on which he gave her the fall, and extended her at her length with an air of roughness and vigour, relishing high of amorous eagerness and impatience. The girl, spreading herself to the best advantage, with her head upon the pillow, was so concentred in what she was about, that our presence seemed the least of her care and concern. Her petticoats, thrown up with her shift, discovered to the company the finest turn'd legs and thighs that could be imagined, and in broad display, that gave us a full view of that delicious cleft of flesh into which the pleasing hair-grown mount over it, parted and presented a most inviting entrance between two close-hedges, delicately soft and pouting. Her gallant was now ready, having disencumber'd himself from his cloaths, overloaded with lace, and presently, his shirt removed, shew'd us his forces in high plight, bandied and ready for action. But giving us no time to consider the dimensions, he threw himself instantly over his charming antagonist, who receiv'd him as he pushed at once dead at mark like a heroine, without flinching; for surely never was girl constitutionally truer to the taste of joy, or sincerer in the expressions of its sensations, than she was: we could observe pleasure lighten in her eyes, as he introduc'd his plenipotentiary instrument into her; till, at length, having indulg'd her to its utmost reach, its irritations grew so violent, and gave her the spurs so furiously, that collected within herself, and lost to everything but the enjoyment of her favourite feelings, she retorted his thrusts with a just concert of springy heaves, keeping time so exactly with the most pathetic sighs, that one might have number'd the strokes in agitation by their distinct murmurs, whilst her active limbs kept wreathing and intertwisting with his, in convulsive folds: then the turtle-billing kisses, and the poignant painless lovebites, which they both exchang'd in a rage of delight, all conspiring towards the melting period. It soon came on when Louisa, in the ravings of her pleasure-frenzy, impotent of all restraint, cried out: "Oh Sir! . . . Good Sir! . . . pray do not spare me! ah! ah! . . ." All her accents now faltering into heart-fetched sighs, she clos'd her eyes in the sweet death, in the instant of which she was embalm'd by an injection, of which we could easily see the signs in the quiet, dying, languid posture of her late so furious driver, who was stopp'd of a sudden, breathing short, panting, and, for the time, giving up the spirit of pleasure. As soon as he was dismounted, Louisa sprung up, shook her petticoats, and running up to me, gave me a kiss and drew me to the side-board, to which she was herself handed by her gallant, where they made me pledge them in a glass of wine, and toast a droll health of Louisa's proposal in high frolic."

É um triplo prazer ler este livro: pela escrita, pela ironia feroz, e pelo resto, qualidade não despicienda num livro erótico.