{"id":1231,"date":"2022-08-17T17:53:33","date_gmt":"2022-08-17T17:53:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1231"},"modified":"2022-09-04T18:15:18","modified_gmt":"2022-09-04T18:15:18","slug":"volume-one-chapter-three","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1231","title":{"rendered":"Volume One Chapter Three"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t<div data-elementor-type=\"wp-page\" data-elementor-id=\"1231\" class=\"elementor elementor-1231\" data-elementor-settings=\"[]\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-section-wrap\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<section class=\"elementor-section elementor-top-section elementor-element elementor-element-70f684a elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"70f684a\" data-element_type=\"section\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-container elementor-column-gap-default\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-50 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-0a624cc\" data-id=\"0a624cc\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-d423c59 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"d423c59\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"html.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t<iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/embed\/album\/6dIzAyWcuXHO9QVaFLIU0Z\" width=\"300\" height=\"380\" frameborder=\"0\" allowtransparency=\"true\" allow=\"encrypted-media\"><\/iframe>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-50 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-9061efd\" data-id=\"9061efd\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-eb7a9b2 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"eb7a9b2\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"html.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t<iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/embed\/album\/5kLzxInROtOr1OQbglTzfT\" width=\"300\" height=\"380\" frameborder=\"0\" allowtransparency=\"true\" allow=\"encrypted-media\"><\/iframe>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<section class=\"elementor-section elementor-top-section elementor-element elementor-element-60a6023 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"60a6023\" data-element_type=\"section\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-container elementor-column-gap-default\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-100 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-3c37599\" data-id=\"3c37599\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-40d4703 elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"40d4703\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"text-editor.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 41\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>VOLUME 1 CHAPTER 3<\/p><p><em>A big servant \u2022 Two sisters \u2022 Armpits \u2022 A quiet feel \u2022 Baudy reveries \u2022 Felt by a woman \u2022 Erections \u2022 My prepuce \u2022 Seeing and feeling \u2022 Aunt and cousin \u2022 A servant\u2019s thighs \u2022 Not man enough.<\/em><\/p><p>A big servant, of whom I shall say much, had most of my attention; she went to her room usually when my mother was taking a nap in the afternoon; or when out with my sisters and brother. When I was ill in bed, this big woman usually brought me beef-tea; I used to make her kiss me, and felt so fond of her, would throw my arms round her, and hold her to me, keeping my lips to hers and saying how I should like to see her breasts; to all which she replied in the softest voice, as if I were a baby. I wonder now if my homage gave the big woman pleasure, or my amatory pressures made her ever feel randy. She was engaged to be married, but I only heard that at a later day, when my mother talked about her; her sister was also with us, as already said.<\/p><p>The sister was handsome, according to my notions then (I now begin to remember faces clearly); both had bright, clear complexions. I kissed both, each used to say, \u201cDon\u2019t tell my sister,\u201d and ask, \u201cHave you kissed my sister?\u201d I was naturally cunning about women, and always said I had done nothing of the sort. The two were always quarrelling, and my mother said she must get rid of one of them.<\/p><p>The youngest was often dancing my little sister round in the room, then swinging herself round, and making cheeses with her petticoats. As I got better, I would lay on the rug with a pillow, and my back to the light reading, and say it rested me better to be on the floor, but in hope of seeing her legs as she made cheeses. I often did, and have no doubt now that she meant me to do so, for she would swing round, quite close to my head so that I could see to her knees, and make her petticoat\u2019s edge, as she squatted, just cover my head, immediately snatching her petticoats back and saying: \u201cOh! you!, see more than is good for you. It used to excite me. One day as she did it, and squatted, I put out my hand and pulled her clothes, she rolled on to her back, threw up her legs quite high, and for a second I saw her thighs; she re covered herself, laughing.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 42\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>\u201cI saw your thighs,\u201d said I. \u201cThat you didn\u2019t.\u201d One day she let me put my hand into her bosom; I sniffed. \u201cWhat\u2019s there to smell?\u201d said she. I have some idea that she used to watch me closely when I was with her sister, as she was always looking after her, and before she kissed me would open the door suddenly or go out of the room and then return. I\u2019ve seen the other sister just outside the door of the room, when suddenly opened.<\/p><\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>The big sister must have been five feet nine high, and large in proportion; the impression on my mind is that she was two and twenty: that age dwells in my recollection, and that my mother remarked it. She had brown hair and eyes, I recollect well the features of the woman. Her lower lip was like a cherry, having a distinct cut down the middle, caused she said by the bite of a parrot, which nearly severed her lip when a girl. This feature I recollect more clearly than anything else. My mother remarked that, though so big, she was lighter in tread than anyone in the house, her voice was so soft; it was like a whisper or a flute, her name was I think Betsy.<\/p><p>I had none of the dash, and determination towards females, which I had in after life; was hesitating, fearful of being repulsed or found out, but was coaxing and wheedling. Betsy used to take charge of my two little sisters (there was no regular nursery then), and used to sit with them in a room adjoining our dining room; it had a settee and a large sofa in it, we usually breakfasted there. She waited also at table, and did miscellaneous work. I am pretty certain that we had then no man in the house. I used to lie down on the sofa in this room. One day I talked with her about her lip, put my head up and said. \u201cDo let me kiss it.\u2019 She put her lips to mine, and soon after, if I was not kissing her sister, I was kissing her regularly, when my mother was out of the way.<\/p><p>One day when she went up to her bedroom, I went softly after her, as I often did, hoping to hear her piddling. Her door was ajar, one of my little sisters was in the room with her, I expect I must have had incipient randiness on me. She taught the child to walk up stairs in front of her, holding her up, and in stooping to do so, I had glimpses of her fat calves. At the door, I could not see her wash, that was done at the other side of the room, but I heard the splash of water and, to my delight, the pot moved, and her piddle rattle. The looking glass was near the window.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 43\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>Then she moved to the glass and brushed her hair, her gown off, and now I saw her legs, and most of her breast, which looked to me enormous.<\/p><\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>Then I noticed hair in her armpits; it must have been the first time I noticed any thing of the sort, for I told a boy afterwards, that brown women had hair under their armpits; he said every fool knew that. When she had done brushing, she turned round, and passing the door shut it: she had not seen me.<\/p><p>I fell in love with this woman, an undefined want took possession of me, I was always kissing her, and she returned it without hesitation. \u201cHush! your mamma\u2019s coming\u201d; then she would work, or do something with the children if there, as demurely as possible. I declare positively as I write this that I believe I gave that woman a hewed pleasure in kissing me, her kisses were so much like those I have had from women I have fucked in after years, so long, and soft, and squeezing.<\/p><p>One day I was in the sitting-room laying on the sofa reading, she sitting and working; where the children were, where my mother was, I can\u2019t say they must have been out; why this servant was in the room with me alone, I don\u2019t know. On a table was something the doctor had ordered me to sip from time to time. \u201cCome and sit near me, I like to touch you, dear\u201d (I used to say \u201cdear\u201d to her). She drew her chair to the sofa, so that her thighs were near my head, she handed me my medicine, I turned on one side, put my head on her lap, and then my hand on her knee. \u201cKiss me.\u201d \u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d I moved my head up and she bent forward and kissed. \u201cKeep your face to mine, I want to tell you something.\u201d Then I told her I had seen her brushing her hair, her breasts, her armpits. \u201cOh! you sly boy! you naughty boy! you must not do it again, will you?\u201d \u201cWon\u2019t I, if I get the chance; put your head down, I\u2019ve something more to tell you.\u201d \u201cWhat?\u201d \u201cI can\u2019t if you look at me; put your ear to my mouth.\u201d I was longing to tell her, and could not do it whilst she looked at me. I recollect my bashfulness perfectly, and more than that, my fear of saying what I wanted to say.<\/p><p>She bent her ear to my mouth. \u201cI heard you piddle.\u201d \u201cOh! you naughty!\u201d and she burst into a quiet laugh. \u201cIII take care to shut the door in future.\u201d I let my hand drop by the side of the sofa, laid hold of her ankle, then the calf of her leg (without resistance); then up I slid it gently, and gradually\u00a0above her garter, and felt the flesh; she was threading a needle. As I touched the thigh, she pressed both hands down on to her thighs, barring further investigation. \u201cNow, Wattie, you\u2019re taking too much liberty, because I\u2019ve let you feel my ankles.\u201d I whined, I moaned. \u201cOh, do, dear, do, kiss me dear; only for a minute.\u201d I tried very gently to push my hand (it was my left hand) further. \u201cWhat do you want?\u201d \u201cI want to feel it, Oh! kiss me-let me, -do, -Betsy, do,\u201d and I raised my head.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 44\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>Sitting bent forward towards me as I lay, until she was nearly double, she put her lips to mine and, kissing me, said: \u201cWhat a rude boy you are, what do you expect to find?\u201d \u201cI know what it\u2019s called, and it\u2019s hairy, isn\u2019t it, dear?\u201d Her hands relaxed, she laughed, my left hand slid up, until I felt the bottom of her belly. I could only twiddle my fingers in the hair, could feel no split, or hole, was too excited to think, too ignorant of the nature of the female article; but of the intense delight I felt at the torch of the warm thighs, and the hair, which now I knew was outside the curt, somewhere, I recollect my delight perfectly.<\/p><p>She kept on kissing me, saying in a whisper, \u201cWhat a rude boy you are.\u201d Then I whispered modestly, all I had read, told of the Aristotle I had hidden in my cupboard, and she asked me to lend her the book. I touched nothing but hair, her thighs must have been quite closed, and a big stay-bone dug into my hand and hurt it, as I moved it about. I have felt that obstacle to my enterprise in years later on, with other women.<\/p><p>Then came over me a voluptuous sensation, as if I was fainting with pleasure, I seem to have a dream of her lips meeting mine, of her saying oh! for shame! of the tips of my fingers entangling in hair, of the warmth of the flesh of her thighs upon my hand, of a sense of moisture on it, but I recollect nothing more distinctly. Afterwards she seems to have absorbed me. I ceased speaking to her sister, and could think of nothing but her neck, legs and the hair at the bottom of her belly. I was several times in the same room with her, and was permitted the same liberties, but no others.<\/p><p>I lent her Aristotle, which I had borrowed, and one day recollect my prick stiffening, and a strange overwhelming, utterly indescribable feeling coming over me of my desire to say to her \u201ccunt,\u201d and to make her feel me, and at the same time a fear and a dread overtook me, that my cock was not like other cocks, and that she might laugh at me. After that, I\u00a0used to pull the skin: down violently every day, I bled, but succeeded; it became slightly easier to do so, yet I have no recollection of having a desire to fuck that woman, all that I recollect of my sensations I1 have here described.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 45\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>I was still ill, for there was brought me to my bed at nights a cup of arrowroot. My mother usually did this, but sometimes the big woman did; I was so glad when my mother did not. Then I would kiss her as if I never wanted to part with her, but my hand out of bed, scramble it up her clothes, till I could feel the hair. \u2018Then she would put her bum back, so that I could not touch more. One night my prick stood, \u201cTake the light outside,\u201d I said, \u201cI\u2019ve something to say to you.\u201d The door was half open when she, had complied; the gleam of the light struck across the room, my bed was in the shade, \u201cDo let me feel you further, dear and kiss me.\u201d \u201cYou naughty boy!\u201d but we kissed. Again I felt her thigh, belly, and hair. \u201cWhat good does it do you, doing that,\u201d she said. I took hold of her hand, and put it under the bed-clothes on to my prick She bent over me, kissing and saying, \u201cNaughty boy,\u201d but feeling the cock, and all around it, how long, I can\u2019t say, \u201cObl I\u2019d like to feel your hole,\u2019 I said. \u201cHish!\u201d said she, going out of the room, and closing the door.<\/p><p>She felt me several times afterwards. When my mother brought me the arrowroot, she having an idea that I liked her to do so, I would not take it, saying it was too hot. She said, \u201cI can\u2019t wait, Wattie, while it cools.\u201d \u201cDon\u2019t care, mamma, I don\u2019t want it.\u201d \u201cBut you must take it.\u201d \u201cPut it down then.\u201d \u201cWell, don\u2019t go to sleep, and I\u2019ll send Betsy up with it in a few minutes.\u201d Up Betsy would come, and quickly and voluptuously kissing, keeping her lips on mine for two or three minutes at a time, she would glide her hand down and feel my cock, whilst my fingers were on her motte, her thighs closed, then she would glide out of the room. I never got my hand between her thighs, I am sure.<\/p><p>I used to long to talk to her about all I had heard, but don\u2019t think I ever did more than I have told, for I had a fear about using baudy words to a woman, though I already used them freely enough among boys. I used to talk only of her hole, my thing, of doing it, and so forth; but what made her laugh was my calling it pudendum, a word I had got out of Aristotle and my Latin dictionary. In spite of all this, and of the voluptuous sensations which used to creep over me, I have no clear, defined,\u00a0recollection of wishing to fuck her, nor did I ever say anything smutty, if I could see her face.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 46\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>I got better. Then she refused either to feel me, or let me feel her, on account of my boldness. One day, just at dusk, she was closing the dining-room shutters, I went behind her, and after pulling her head back to kiss me, stooped and pulled up her clothes to her waist; it exposed her entire backside. Oh how white and huge it. seemed to me. She moved quickly round not holloring out but saying quietly: \u201cWhat are you doing? Don\u2019t, now!\u201d As she turned round, so did I, gloating over her bum, then laid both hands on it, slid them round her thighs, and rapidly kneeling down, put my lips on to the flesh, her petticoats fell over my head She dislodged me, saying she would never speak with me again. She never either felt me or permitted me any liberties afterwards; and soon left. One or two years after that, she came to see my mother with her baby. She smiled at me. I don\u2019t recollect what became of her sister, but think she soon left us also.<\/p><p>My physique could not then have been strong, nor my sexual organs in finished condition, because I am sure that up to that time, I had not had a spend; perhaps my growing fast and the fever may have had something to do with it. My father came home brokenhearted I have heard, and ill. Soon after we only kept two female servants, a man outside the house, and a gardener. Father was ordered to the seaside, my mother went with him, taking the children and one servant (all went by coach then). One of father\u2019s sisters, my aunt; a widow, came to take charge of our new house, and brought her daughter, a fair, slim girl, about sixteen years old.<\/p><p>I remained at home, so as to go to school; the servant left in the house was a pleasant, plump young woman, dark haired, and. was ways laughing; she was to do all the work. My godfather, who lived a mile or two away from us and whose maiden sister kept house for hire, was to see me frequently, and did so till I was sick of him. Every half-holiday, he made me spend with him in walking, and riding; he insisted on my boating, cricketting, and keeping at athletic games when not at my boating, studies. The old doctor I expect guessed my temperament, and thought, by thoroughly occupying and fatiguing me, to prevent erotic thoughts. He wanted me to stay at his house, but I refused, and it being a longer way from school, it was not persisted in.\u00a0My aunt slept in my parents\u2019 bedroom, my cousin in the next room. I was taken down, during my parents\u2019 absence, from the upper floor to sleep on the same floor as my aunt. They had not been in the house a week before I had heard my cousin piddle, and stood listening outside her bedroom door, night after night, in my bed-gown, trying to get a glimpse of her charms through the keyhole, but was not successful.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 47\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>I made up to the servant, beginning when she was kneeling, by putting myself astride on her back. It made her laugh, she gave her back a buck up, and threw me over, then I kissed her, and she kissed me. She and my aunt quarrelled, my aunt was very poor and proud, and wanted a hot dinner at seven o\u2019clock; I ate my dinner in the middle of the day. The servant said she could not do it all. The girl said quietly to me, \u201cI\u2019ll cook for you, don\u2019t you go without, let her do without anything hot at night.\u201d She did not like her. My aunt said she was saucy and would write to my mother and complain that she wasted her time with the gardener.<\/p><p>Godfather then renewed his offer for me to stay with him, but I would not, for I was getting on very comfortably with the servant in kissing, and things settled themselves somehow. I learnt the ways of my aunt, and tried to get home when she was out, so as to be alone with the servant; but to escape both aunt and godfather was difficult. I did so at times by saying I was going out with the boys somewhere, on my half-holidays, or something of the sort, but was rarely successful.<\/p><p>The servant went to her bedroom, one afternoon; with palpitating heart I followed her, and pushed her on to the bed. She was a cheeky, chaffing, woman, and I guess knew better than I did, what I was about. I recollect her falling back on to the bed and showing to her knees. \u201cOh! what legs!\u201d said I, \u201cNothing to be ashamed of,\u201d said she. Whatever my wishes or intentions might have been, I went no further. My relations were of course out.<\/p><p>Another day we romped, and pelted each other with the pillows from her bed, she stood on the landing, I half way down the stairs, and kept when I could, my head just level with the top of the landing on which she was, so that as she whisked backwards and forwards, picking up the pillows to heave at me, I saw up to her knees. She knew what she was about, though I thought myself very cunning to manage to get such glimpses. On the landing I grappled with her for a pillow, and we rolled on the\u00a0floor. I got my hand up her clothes, to her thighs, and felt the hair. \u201cThat\u2019s your thing,\u201d said I with a burst of courage. \u201cOh! Oh!\u201d she laughed, \u201cwhat did you say?\u201d \u201cYour thing!\u201d \u201cMy thing! what\u2019s that?\u201d \u201cThe hole at the bottom of your belly, said I, ashamed at what uttered. \u201cWhat do you mean? who told you that? I\u2019ve no hole.\u201d It is strange, but a fact, that I had no courage to say more, but left off playing, and went down stairs.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 48\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>On occasions afterwards, I played more roughly with her and felt her thighs; but fear prevented me from going further up. She gave me lots of opportunities, which my timidity prevented me from availing myself of. One day she said, \u201cYou are not game for much, although you are so big,\u201d and then kissed me long and furiously, but I never saw her wants, nor my chances that I know of, though I see now plainly enough that, boy as I was, she wanted me to mount her.<\/p><p>About that time, how I got it, I know not, I had a book describing the diseases caused by sacrificing to Venus. The illustrations in the book, of faces covered with scabs, blotches, and eruptions, took such bold of my mind, that for twenty years afterwards, the fear was not quite eradicated. I showed them to some friends, and we all got scared I had no definite idea of what syphilis, and gonorrhea were, but that both were something awful we all made up our minds. My godfather also used to hint now to me about ailments men got, by acquaintance with loose, bad, women; perhaps he put the book in my way. Frigging also was treated of, and the terrible accounts of people dying through it, and being put into straight waistcoats, etc., I have no doubt were useful to me. Several of us boys were days in finding out what the book meant by masturbation, onanism, or whatever the language may have been. We used dictionaries and other books to help us, and at last one of the biggest boys explained the meaning to us.<\/p><p>One evening, my aunt being out (it was not I think any plan on my part), I had something to eat and then went into the kitchen, where the servant was sitting at needle-work by candle-light. I talked, kissed, coaxed her, began to pull up her clothes, and it ended in her running round the kitchen, and my chasing her; both laughing, stopping at intervals, to hear if my aunt knocked. \u201cI\u2019ll go and lock the outer gate,\u201d said she \u201cthen your\u00a0aunt must ring, if she comes up to the door, she will hear us, for you make such a noise.\u201d She locked it and came back again.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 49\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>The kitchen was on the ground floor, separated from the body of the house by a short passage. I got her on to my knees, I was now a big fellow, and though but a boy, my voice was changing, she chaffed me about that; then my hand went up her petticoats, and she gave me such a violent pinch on my cock (outside the clothes), that I hollored. Whenever I was getting the better of her in our amatory struggles, she said, \u201cOh hush, there is your aunt knocking,\u201d and frightened me away, but at last she was sitting on my knees, my hand touching her thighs, she feeling my prick, she felt all round it and under. \u201cYou have no hair,\u201d she said. That annoyed me, for I had just a little growing. Then how it came about I don\u2019t recollect, but she consented to go into the parlor with me, after we had sat together feeling each other for a time, if mine could be called feeling, when my fingers only touched the top of the notch. I took up the candle. \u201cI won\u2019t go if you bring a light,\u201d said she, so I put down the candle, and, holding her by the arm, we walked through the passage across the little hall to the front parlour; she closed the door, and we were in the dark. And now I only recollect generally what took place, it seems as if it all could but have occupied a minute, or two, though experience tells me it must have been longer.<\/p><p>We sat on a settee or sofa, she had hold of my prick, and I her cunt, for she now sat with thighs quite wide open. It was my first real feel of a woman, and she meant me to feel well. How large and hairy and wet it seemed; its size overwhelmed me with astonishment, I did not find the hole, don\u2019t recollect feeling for that, am sure I never put my finger in it, all seemed cunt below her belly, wet, and warm; and slippery. \u201cMake haste, your aunt will be in soon,\u201d said she softly, but I was engrossed with the curt, in twiddling it and feeling it in delighted wonder at its size and other qualities. \u201cYour aunt will be in,\u201d and leaving off feeling my cock, she laid half on, half off the settee. \u201cNo, no, not so,\u201d I recollect the words, but what I was doing, know not; then I was standing by her side, my cock stiff, and still feeling her cunt in bewilderment. \u201cI can\u2019t . . . stop \u2026 get on to the sofa.\u201d I laid half over her, my prick touched something- her cunt of course. Whether it went in or not, God knows, I pushed, it felt smooth to my prick, then suddenly came over me, a fear of some horrible disease, and I ceased whatever I was doing. \u201cGo on, go on,\u201d said she,\u00a0moving her belly up. I could not, said nothing, but sat down by her side, she rose up, \u201cYou\u2019re not man enough,\u201d said she, laying hold of my prick. It was not stiff, I put my hand down, and again the great size \u2013 as it seemed to me \u2013 of her cunt, made me wonder.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 50\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>What then she did with me, I know not, she may have frigged it, I think she did, but can\u2019t say, a sense of disgrace had come over me as she said I was not man enough, disgrace mixed with fear of disease. \u201cLet me try,\u201d said I; again she laid back, I have a faint recollection of my finger going in somewhere deep, again of my prick touching her thighs and rubbing in something smooth, but nothing more. \u201cYou\u2019re not man enough,\u201d said she again. A ring \u2026 \u201cHark! it\u2019s your aunt, go!\u201d and it was.<\/p><p>I went into the adjoining room, where my books were and a lamp, she went to the street-door. My aunt and cousin came in and went up to their bedrooms, I sat smelling my fingers; the full smell of cunt that I had for the first time. I smelt and smelt almost out of my senses, sat poring over a book, seeming to read, but with my fingers to my nose and thinking of cunt, its wonderful size and smell. Aunt came down. \u201cHave you got a cold, Wattie?\u201d \u201cNo, aunt.\u201d \u201cYour eyes look quite inflamed, child.\u201d Soon after again, she said: \u201cYou have a cold? \u201cNo, aunt.\u201d \u201cWhy are you sniffing so, and holding your hand to your mouth?\u201d Suddenly the fear of the pox came over me, I went up to the bedroom, soaped and washed my prick, and had a terrible fear on me.<\/p><p>I was overwhelmed with a mixed feeling of pride, at having had my prick either touch or go up a cunt, fear that I had caught disease, and shame at not being man enough. Instinct told me I had lost, in the eyes of the woman, and my pride was hurt in a woeful manner. I tried to avoid seeing her, instead of as before getting excitedly into a room where she was likely to be alone for a minute. I did that for three days, then fear of disease vanished, and my hopes of feeling her cunt again, or of poking \u2013 I don\u2019t know which \u2013 impelled me towards her.<\/p><p>During those three days I washed my prick at every possible opportunity, and thought of nothing else but the incident; all seemed to me hurry, confusion, impossible; I wondered, and wonder still, whether my prick went into her or not; but above all, the largeness of the cunt filled me with wonder; for though I had had rapid glimpses of cunts as told, and had now seen a few pictures of the long slit, I never could realise that\u00a0that was only the outside of the cunt, until I had had a woman. My fingers had no doubt slipped over the surface of hers, from clitoris to arse-hole; the space my hand covered filled me with astonishment, as well as the smell it left on my fingers, I thought of that snore than anything else. This seems to me now laughable, but it was a marvel to me then.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 51\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p>When I sneaked\u2019 into the kitchen again, I was ashamed to look at her, and left almost directly, but one day I felt her again. Laughing she put her hand outside my trowsers, gave my doodle a gentle pinch and kissed me. \u201cLet\u2019s do all\u201d I said. \u201cLord! you ain t man enough,\u201d and again I slunk away ashamed.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>VOLUME 1 CHAPTER 3 A big servant \u2022 Two sisters \u2022 Armpits \u2022 A quiet feel \u2022 Baudy reveries \u2022 Felt by a woman \u2022 Erections \u2022 My prepuce \u2022 Seeing and feeling \u2022 Aunt and cousin \u2022 A servant\u2019s thighs \u2022 Not man enough. A big servant, of whom I shall say much, had &hellip;<\/p>\n<p class=\"read-more\"> <a class=\"\" href=\"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1231\"> <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Volume One Chapter Three<\/span> Read More &raquo;<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1231","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1231"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1231"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1231\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1787,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1231\/revisions\/1787"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1231"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}