In bed with Sally. • The children. • Sally’s devices. • Fears of alarm. • An hour’s siege. • The citadel taken. • Thirty hours of delight. • Fucking under difficulties. • My devices. • A cunt inspection in the looking-glass. • Sally’s account of herself. • The bathing lady again. • Checked and threatened. • I give up the chase.

She was in bed, heard me, and sat up. “Oh! now sir, don’t you come, — now I’ll call Missus.” “Hush! if you do I’ll tell your mistress that you said I might come up, and she’ll dismiss you.” “Oh! you won’t be so wicked, — now you shan’t.” “Be quiet you fool, — lay still, there’s a darling, — I won’t hurt you.” I jumped into bed, and pulled her down whilst this dialogue was going on, folded her in my arms, entangled my legs in hers, hugged and kissed her. She struggled, but her voice dropped. “The children will hear,” said she, — “do leave me, and go, — there is a good gentleman.” Then I felt sure she would not call her mistress. I had won the first move, when she expressed her fears that the children in the back-room would hear us. I cuddled her, swore I would only do what we did on the beach. Little by little I got her night-clothes up, felt her plump burn and thighs and firm little breasts, and put her hand to my prick, promising her anything, everything, all in whispers. She kept her knees doubled up to her belly. Every now and then I pushed my finger towards her cunt, over her bum-cheeks; then down went her legs straight. Then my fingers went quickly to the belly-side of her cunt, and up went her knees al-most to her breasts. All the while she was crying in an undertone, “Now I won’t, — oh! I’m so sorry I ever let you do anything, — I’ll call Missus, — I really will if you don’t go.” But the next instant, “Oh! if Missus should hear us, she’d tell Mrs***, — no you shan’t feel it, — oh! what a shame to take me unawares, — oh! oh! — now — oh!” I could not succeed, felt wild with desire, annoyed at the resistance; but the prolonged feeling all over her flesh, the keeping it close to mine, rubbing my legs against hers, and the satisfaction of my curiosity, were delicious.

At last I got so close to her belly, that she could not move up her legs. My prick was against her belly, and I held her to me closely by one hand round her bum. “Let me now, — I won’t do any harm, — lay so, and I will lay so — feel my prick, and let me just feel there.” Sullenly she let me. I rubbed gently over the little bit of her clitoris, that her tightly-closed little thighs let me feel, until she began to feel lewed. “Oh! leave off!” She had now ceased whimpering, her mind was intent on my baudy advances; and she spoke in low tones! “Now don’t, — you’re a hurting me!” “Non-sense darling, — there.” I took then away my fingers from her slit, and my hand roved all over her. “What lovely firm little breasts you’ve got! what smooth flesh, — kiss me darling, — let’s fuck.” She kissed me. Then I told her of the pleasures of fucking, of the stiff penis spending its essence in the cunt, of the tightening of the cunt round the prick whilst the pleasure came on. “Let me,” — and I felt her quim. “You’ll hurt.” “Every woman thinks so dear, but every woman wants it done to her. Lay still, — that’s it!”

Clasping her still tightly, my prick straight up against her navel, I now lodged it against her clitoris. “Let me rub you with my prick, just where my finger rubbed you, — it will give me pleasure, and you too, — feel, — is it not hot and stiff? — let it go up your cunt!” “No you’ll hurt.” She was yielding.

I must have been an hour persuading her to this point. How I restrained myself I do not know. Perhaps my morning’s frig helped me. My fingers again were on her cunt. She closed together her legs tightly, but my finger could not be kept out. Then with sighs and muttered words her thighs unclosed. I pushed my knee between them. “Let me put my prick there.” I raised my body against hers, pressing her on to her back with my belly. Her thighs distended, whilst I felt for the nick, and tried to lodge my palpitating penis. The next minute all thought of the Missus and children went, and I lunged my prick against her cunt.

“Oh! you said you would not hur — hurt me, — oh! — oo — h! — you shan’t.” Two or three quick violent lunges, a sharp suppressed cry. “There my darling it’s up — your — cunt,” — and fucking violently to make sure, the divine pleasure overtook me, and I spent.

It was done, her cunt was spermatised for the first time, she had submitted to the inevitable. “You hurt me so, — oh! I hope the children won’t hear,” were the first words I recollect her uttering after I had emptied my ballocks into her.

The sensation was over, but the pride of victory remained; my prick was in possession, it was easy to keep it up her, but the usual, “Oh! you’re so heavy,” was said. She moved, sperm began to dribble out, my tool to dwindle. “Oh! if the children should hear, — oh! if they were to come in!” She feared the children now, as little by little my cock left her cunt. She did not seem to fear her mistress.

I got out of bed, struck a light, and moved gently a wash-hand stand against the door. “There. The children now can’t come in without making a noise, — if your mistress comes I’ll be under the bed like a shot, — you say you put the wash-handstand there because you heard a noise, and were frightened, — and now my darling let’s look at your cunt.” She resisted that more than the fucking, and jumped out of the bed to get away. As she did so I saw stains of blood on the night-gown, and did not insist on gratifying my eyesight. Putting out the light we both got into bed again. Soon my prick was churning up the spunk in her cunt, and we spent the rest of the night in dozing, and fucking. Fear, lest the landlady should come up, kept me much awake. Sally never closed her eyes, but she enjoyed the prick, and when it was daylight, what a lovely mess her little cunt, her linen and mine were in, for I saw them all.

About six o’clock I rose. “I’ll go down,” said I. “Then Mrs. Harris won’t catch us, — she won’t be up yet, and you’ll go down soon to light the kitchen-fire I suppose.” “There is no one in the house but the two children and us,” said Sally quite quietly.

It was true. The mistress, believing that I had gone to London, had gone to see a sister. Sally was left in the house until Monday to take care of the children; hence the chain up, and the closed door. Sally had kept up the sham of her mistress being within till the last moment, hoping that my threat of going to her bed-room would have the same result as on other nights when I had promised to go to her. She now told the truth, it was useless to tell anything else.

The butcher had brought meat for the Sunday’s dinner, he entered by the area — his was the male voice I had heard.

“Oh! don’t do it again, I’m so sore.” My prick stood stiffer than ever when it touched the sore cunt. Then Sally spent with me and slept, and so did I. I slept a heavy sleep without anxiety now, fearing nothing.

“Oh! it’s the children crying, they will tumble down-stairs,” said Sally. We removed the wash-hand-stand. “I’ll lay here,” said I. “I’ll get them their breakfast,” said Sally. “Come up after.” “Yes, but I must put my frock on,” — and she did, over her nightgown.

In an hour up she came and got gaily into bed, and we fucked again. Then I would look at her cunt, and threw her back violently on the bed to do so. She had not washed. She was a sight, so was her night-gown, so were the bed-sheets. Sarah looked aghast at them.

The children were quite young, but even children talk, and Sally was anxious that no one should know I was in the house. So she took the children up into the bed-room after their breakfast, and then I went down to the kitchen, and got what food I could. Dinner there was none for me, for they had but a pound of steak between the three. I went out and had a repast at a tavern, then took home sausages which I managed to buy, and when the children were put to bed, Sally and I together cooked the sausages, and eat them in the kitchen. She had not had such a feast for some time, for the lodging-house mistress fed her on scraps left by the lodgers. Then we had some mild voluptuous amusements. Then we filled up with whisky and water, and went to bed early.

The next morning I left long before the Mistress re-turned. The children had never seen nor heard me, and unless the neighbours had seen me, no one could have known I had been in the house. But in the thirty hours I had fucked myself out, and Sally as well. Her prayers “not to do it any more” I shall recollect to the last day of my life, and her swollen, crimson-tinted little cunt was touching to look at. I never had more pleasure in baudiness than I had in hurting her. It made my prick stiffen directly she said she was so sore, and my prick stood in an inflammatory excited state for half an hour at a time, and even when I could get no spend out of it, in Sally’s cunt it lingered as if it never meant to leave it. It was a delicious thirty hours, in which she learned enough about fucking to make her lewed whenever she thought it over in future.

She was in a way about the sheets, but we got over it much in the same way as I did my shirt-tail in my youth. First she washed the patches, ironed it, got out a good deal of the evidence of her lost chastity, and then changed it for one from my bed. I took the dirty one, and my bed on the first-floor was made up with it. The next day after my supposed absence I returned and slept there, next morning laid abed late, took off the sheets, dipped them in water, and told Sally to tell the landlady to come up. “I have been sick and ill in the night Mrs. Harris,” said I, “and have taken off the sheets, and put them into the water, — let me have a clean pair,” leaving her to imagine whether I had spewed, or pissed, or shit in them. She never made any remark about it, so Sally told me.

A long rest, a day’s good food, and ten hours sleep put my doodle into first-rate condition again. My desire for Sally increased; how to get her was the difficulty. She, I am bound to say, did her best to get her cunt amused, and fell in with every suggestion I made, any trick I planned; and they were many. We man-aged to fuck two or three times nearly every day in a month. The days I was disappointed only gave me breathing-time. I was idle, well fed, and in the finest possible condition. Fucking was my only joy, and I enjoyed myself up Sally.

The children now slept with their mother in what I found was a bedstead in a sort of large closet, in a small room adjoining the back-kitchen, which had only a skylight a few feet above the back-yard. I had looked out of my bed-room window, and not knowing much about the plans of seaside lodging-houses, wondered what the skylight lighted. The little servant now being allowed to sleep in the back two-pair, I used to steal upstairs at midnight without shoes or light, get in-to bed with her, put a towel under her bum, fuck her, and get down quickly. She had such a fear of being found out, that I believe until she felt the crisis approaching, she never quite forgot to keep her ears open.

But a landlady working hard from morning till night was unlikely to come up three flights of stairs to look after a girl whom she only hired for the season, and about whose morals she did not care, so long as she attended to the lodgers. Mrs. Harris was respectable, but I believe that had she known that Sally had had a prick up her back, as well as her front entrance, she would never have troubled herself about it. “If my lodgers are satisfied with the girl,” said she to us one day, “it’s all I want — she is paid good wages, and must do her duty.” The fact being that she paid the girl no wages, expected her to feed herself by stealing lodgers’ food, and to keep herself in clothes out of what the lodgers gave her.

When Sally laid the breakfast things I used to pull her into my bed-room, and on the bed, fuck as quickly as I could, and get into bed again to rest.

Not so poor Sally. In half an hour she would bring up the break-fast with her cunt still as I had left it. “Have you washed it, Sally?” “Lord no, — what time have I had?” — and she would laugh.

I could not always manage the morning poke. Lodgers came into the downstairs rooms, they rang violently twice one morning when my prick had just gone up Sally, and she was not sufficiently on to disregard it, but uncunted me, and ran downstairs. One day her mistress came upstairs to a closet on the landing, and nearly frightened Sally out of her senses. So we had to keep our wits about us.

Autumn was now closing. It was chilly morning and night, I insisted on having a fire to breakfast by, let it out, and would have it relighted in the evening. That was a long operation, and gave me time to get a poke. One day Sally came up radiant. “She’s gone out,” said she laughing, “the lodgers downstairs want her to go and buy something, and said I couldn’t judge, I warn’t old enough.” Sally knew that it would give us time for a fuck. She came up for it, though she did not say so. She improved wonderfully. Her mind was dead on rogering ever after the Saturday night, and whenever her Mistress went out she used to come up instantly with a triumphant air to tell me. Towards the end of the month, she pulled up her petticoats herself to expedite matters, instead of waiting for me to do it.

I received letters asking when I was going home, and wrote that I was daily expecting her to return. A reply came, — it was my intention to aggravate, and she should not come. I answered that I should not go home till she did. I knew that would settle it, and that she would not return. So Sally’s cunt and my prick got as intimate as they could, what with asking the landlady to go out, and buy chickens or fish; what with coming home without notice, and saying “Oh! Mrs. H., I’m so sorry I forgot to order dinner, — will you go and get me a lobster for my supper.” I was always getting her out of the way, and began to find, that my food cost as much as that of three people. I did not care, for then Sally used to come up as I said unasked, naturally and regularly, and go downstairs afterwards with her cunt spermatised, and a glass of wine, or whisky, or some-thing nice, to comfort her little belly, and prepare her for the next fucking.

Sally did not trouble herself too much with washing her receptacle. “Have you washed?” “Oh! no, I’ve not had time,” was a question and answer often repeated. She carried this negligence too far. “You never do wash your cunt,” said I to her one night. “Yes I do,” said she indignantly, “I wash it every Saturday night, after I’ve washed my feet, — if I can’t find time I does it on a Sunday.” I recollect all this, having for six weeks nothing else to think of but her and her little doings. I have had other girls who said and acted nearly the same about washing cunts.

I tried when bathing to get near the black cunted, fat arsed one who let the waves expose her, but saw less than when sitting on the sands. We often met. She looked invitingly at me, and I fancied, as if she were dying for a male, but she never turned her head after she had passed, nor did her little companion; without whom I never saw her. I spoke to her on the pier one day. She answered encouragingly. I met her in the streets afterwards. She smiled and nodded, and passed on. “It’s all right,” said I to myself. A big arse and a well-haired cunt and again their potent attractions; so I accosted her one evening as she was going to the Assembly Rooms, and was told to go about my business, — that she was a married woman.

I followed her home for several nights after that. She lived a little way out of the town. She knew I followed her. One evening just so far off from the gas-lamp, and from me, as only to enable her form to be seen indistinctly, she sat down to piss by the road-side. Her young female friend, a saucy-looking bitch of about sixteen years of age, standing by her side.

I rushed forward thinking it a clear invitation. She got up saying, “Oh! here is the impudent fellow again, — if you come after us so, I’ll complain to the police,” — and the two hurried off. “I dare say I’ll see all you’ve got to show on the beach tomorrow,” said I, and turned away. I heard them laughing in the distance.

I met her the next day, with the same inviting look in her eye as she passed me, just as if nothing had happened. I never saw her with a man, and could never make her out. I think after my remark that she showed her form less, but I saw her belly naked several times afterwards when bathing.