("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
                     `6_ 6  )   `-.  (     ).`-.__.`)
                     (_Y_.)'  ._   )  `._ `. ``-..-'
                    _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
                   ((('   (((-(((''  ((((
                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
		_________________________________________
		                WARNING!
		This text file contains sexually explicit
		material. If you do not wish to read this
		type of literature, or you are under age,
		PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
		_________________________________________




			Scroll down to view text













Archive name: bio.txt (M+/f+, rom, orgy, ped)
Authors name: Lor Oldmann (jamwad@hotmail.com)
Story title : Potted Biographies: The Casanova Complex

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

Potted Biographies: The Casanova Complex 
by Lor Oldmann (jamwad@hotmail.com)

***

Another pseudoperpindicularification in a form not 
dissimilar to the demytholigisation trend among 
biographers of the second half of the twentieth 
century....or something.

***

Casanova had nothing on his contemporary the Rev. Elisha 
Amos Fairweather. Anything the notorious 'coq au Venice' 
could do, the reverend gentleman from Hampshire could do 
better, much oftener and for far longer to countless many 
more females! Females only! Unlike Casanova, Fairweather 
was purely frontal heterosexual. He felt he had to draw 
the line somewhere.

Jonathan Swift, near the end of his life, received 
hospitality from the 'humper of Hampshire' and was 
appalled at the man's sexual appetite. Elisha married one 
of his 'childhood sweethearts', Ruth Barnstable, while he 
was still a curate and she had only just entered her 
teens. Between them they produced fourteen children who 
survived infancy; she had four of them by the age of 
nineteen. "It's not a family you have," exclaimed the 
outraged Dean when he learned the facts, "it's a fucking 
addiction!" (The participle still retained most of its 
original connotation in the eighteenth century.)

And Jonathan Swift, author of Gulliver's Travels, knew 
what he was talking about! As a teenager at school in 
Kilkenny, Swift became emotionally involved with some 
older females until their fathers, husbands or big 
brothers put an end to his flirtations, but not before 
one of the women, the unmarried older sister of one of 
his teachers, became seriously pregnant, which gave him a 
good excuse for leaving the school.

When he went to Trinity, Dublin, his involvement with 
young and old of the opposite sex became so intense (he 
had several lovers each day) that, inevitably, his arts 
and divinity studies suffered serious setbacks. He was 
finally granted his degree only by 'special grace' and 
not 'by virtue of his attendance at classes' or as a 
reward for any mental exertion; it was pure coincidence 
that his family had powerful friends, one in particular 
who almost financed Trinity College on his own.

Swift became a kind of  'private secretary' to another of 
these powerful family friends, Sir William Temple of Moor 
Park, and while there as tutor he began to teach Miss 
Esther Johnson a thing or two. Although she was still a 
child of eight and ward of his benefactor, he initiated a 
love affair that was to last until her death at the age 
of forty six, worn out, some are inclined to say, by sex. 
He never married Esther, but they lived together as man 
and wife, even when he was sent as priest to the 
congregation at Laracor, on the outskirts of Dublin. 
Esther's dying words were, according to urban legend, "I 
have been satisfied, and now it is time to go!"

At Moor Park, many of the child's lessons were given in a 
secluded summer house. It was here that a servant 
interrupted on one occasion when Swift's nakedness was 
concealed only by a bed sheet and an equally naked ten 
year old Esther was wrapped in nothing more than a narrow 
ribbon of chiffon. The explanation given to Temple was 
that they were re-enacting the famous story of Troilus 
and Cressida, bringing classical Greek and Roman fables 
to life and recreating scenes from famous paintings. 
Temple believed this! And the servant was horsewhipped 
for being such an unmitigated, ignorant fool. 

There can be little doubt that Swift had genuine feelings 
for the child. Most of her learning was done on his knee. 
When she did well she was awarded with a kiss, a caress 
or a pat on the head. And when she was naughty or made a 
mistake, she was very gently smacked on her bare bottom. 

He had many pet names for his pupil; he called her 'his 
little pussy' and 'Eggshell' and 'Cockspur', but his 
favourite, and the one he used in his writings about her 
was 'Stella'. Nevertheless, he did not exhaust his 
treasure house of affections on her. Indeed, his sexual 
activities before he met Stella were as nothing compared 
to the period she lived with him as mistress and common 
law wife. 

He made frequent visits to London where he fornicated, 
mostly with society ladies, only occasionally with common 
whores, and rarely with paid prostitutes, but almost 
incessantly whenever he was not attending literary, 
political or ecclesiastical meetings. One of these 
ladies, Esther Vanhomrigh, was so besotted with him that 
she followed him back to Ireland with pathetic 
consequences for all concerned. Several ladies, who 
remained in London, claimed to have been impregnated by 
him, but only one low class wench made a big thing out of 
it and was sent to prison for her efforts. The point is: 
this was the man who had the temerity to criticise the 
Rev. Elisha Fairweather.

It is said that Casanova, if he did not invent it, at 
least perfected the Threesome! It was his sexual high to 
have two ladies, preferably sisters, and ideally twins, 
in bed beside him at the same time. That was pussy-willow 
to Fairweather: on one of his regular cross-channel 
visits he invited the four daughters and the widowed 
landlady to share his bed, and he went at it throughout 
the night, like the proverbial rabbit, in his own words, 
'from hole to hole' and this became par for the course 
whenever he landed at Calais and lodged in the widow's 
inn there.

He was a regular visitor to the aristocratic homes of 
Paris, where his breath-taking exploits were famous, and 
it became something of a social stigma not to have at 
least one daughter laid and well-and-truly fertilised by 
the reverend gentleman. He boasted that he had made love 
in a rattling coach from London, on tossing ships in the 
English Channel, on horseback, and while climbing in the 
Alps!

He gained the enviable reputation of providing each of 
his lovers with at least a single orgasm, which he 
described as her 'enthusiasm', on each occasion, which 
seemed to increase his popularity in France. But with 
popularity comes notoriety, and inevitably word crept 
back over the channel. He was called to give an account 
of himself and his frequent visits to France before a 
panel of bishops who unanimously dismissed all charges, 
ostensibly because the reports were obviously 
exaggerated, but in reality because the offences took 
place outside England, and were only commonplace among 
the French, and that made it acceptable.

Strangely though, almost as soon as he returned to his 
rectory in Hampshire, after being carpeted by the 
bishops, he began to receive invitations from the landed 
gentry. Dowager ladies from across England paid him 
visits to discuss quite seriously grave problems that 
could only be solved in the privacy of his locked study 
or vestry, and the spiritual wrestlings with the angels 
of the Almighty and the anguish of the tormented soul 
could be measured by the volume of grunts and groans 
emanating from behind the barred door. Childless couples, 
not only from his own parish, came to him for advice, 
which invariably involved a practical demonstration, and 
the parochial record of births and baptisms show clearly 
how successful his therapy had been.

Ruth (nee Barnstable) was inconsolable on her husband's 
death, made more unpalatable by the fact that she had to 
move out of the rectory with her brood. "I have lost 
much, much more than a good husband, soul-mate and 
spiritual mentor," she exclaimed at Elisha's funeral. "I 
am left with a gaping void, an emptiness, which cannot be 
filled, a longing that can no longer be supplied." 
Nevertheless, within six months she married a local 
blacksmith, but produced no further issue.

And what of this fellow Casanova? Giacomo Girolamo 
Casanova de Seingalt was a jerk of all trades and 
mastered none. He was born in Venice 1725 and by his 
twenty-fifth birthday he had been beaten up for the 
technical rape of a preteen girl when he was fourteen, 
expelled from a religious seminary for sodomy, and 
cashiered from the army for some similar offence. He was 
defrocked as a priest for dishonesty and immorality, and 
discharged from his post as secretary to a cardinal for 
thieving, forgery and recycling stolen goods. He conned 
people into believing that he had discovered the secrets 
of alchemy and relieved them of a considerable fortune 
which he lost at the gaming table. He pretended to be a 
gifted violinist without actually performing, which may 
well sum up his life. 

That the man led an interesting life has never been 
questioned. But he was an abject failure in everything he 
did. For instance, he took over the running of the highly 
lucrative French National Lottery from a Scottish crook, 
and for the first time in its history it realised a loss! 
He received a kind of knighthood in Holland until it was 
discovered that his claims to fame were patently false. 

He was accused of cowardice when he ran away from a duel 
with a half-blind count in Russia. He worked as a secret 
agent for Louis the Fifteenth and as a police informer in 
Venice for the Inquisition, and left both posts abruptly 
after supplying infantile misinformation. 

Even his amorous exploits are open to question and can be 
shown as largely fiction. His memoirs, published 
posthumously, have very little substance in reality and 
are mostly wishful thinking. At least three of the ladies 
in question, two of whom are alleged to have taken part 
in his original 'threesome', were otherwise engaged at 
the time Casanova records their seduction; one was in the 
process of being buried (beat that for an alibi) and the 
twins were in the Americas. 

One society lady who spent time with him in London 
reported that 'he was all talk of cock with little 
substance!' "When a lady lies and considers her next 
coiffure," she declared, "while he copulates, 
expostulates and protests his fervent desire on top of 
her, there is something far amiss."

Thus confirming the old adage 'it you can't get up, speak 
up!' This, perhaps, is the true nature of the Casanova 
complex!

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 19