Nicholas Chorier
From The Satyra Sotadica
You know there is in our house a gallery giving on to the
garden, which is full of flowers. There Caviceo and I were promenading:
he embraced me, kissed me, nibbled my lips and then thrust his hand in
my bosom.
'I have a whim,' he said, 'bare your breasts, my darling.'
What was I to do? His hot eyes rested on my bare bosom. 'I see Venus sleeping
between your breasts,' he said. 'May I awaken her?'
He then revealed himself, fiercely erect, and slides
his hot, burning member between my breasts. How could I escape his blind
passion? I had no choice but to bear it. His hands softly pressed my breasts
together, so as to narrow the space in which his manhood had to travel
towards a new experience. Why make a long story? Stupefied as I was at
this vain ridiculous imitation of love, he inundated me with a burning
libation: he had his will.