{"id":1241,"date":"2022-08-17T18:00:26","date_gmt":"2022-08-17T18:00:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1241"},"modified":"2022-09-05T17:18:26","modified_gmt":"2022-09-05T17:18:26","slug":"volume-one-chapter-six","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1241","title":{"rendered":"Volume One Chapter Six"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t<div data-elementor-type=\"wp-page\" data-elementor-id=\"1241\" class=\"elementor elementor-1241\" 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-b080162 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"b080162\" 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-2e8fc1d\" data-id=\"2e8fc1d\" 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-508e3ca elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"508e3ca\" 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\/2SqpgwOy4mJrQIO9hWKWqg\" 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-e9640ee\" data-id=\"e9640ee\" 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-61c1874 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"61c1874\" 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\/31guuX8RP5osyFKyzxzoUN\" 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-e3ca0d6 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"e3ca0d6\" 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-c70d769\" data-id=\"c70d769\" 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-2afcf01 elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"2afcf01\" 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\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 86\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">VOLUME 1 CHAPTER 6<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><i>Mary the cook. \u2022 A bloody nose and broken piss-pot. \u2022 An involuntary spend. \u2022 A feel and a poke. \u2022 A new sensation. \u2022 At a baudy house. \u2022 Mary\u2019s history. \u2022 She leaves.<\/i><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">As the certainty that all was finished between us came to me, I got better, my grief moderated, my prick expected occupation, I was horrified at having frigged myself, and ceased doing it. Then naturally I looked at the servants. The new housemaid was ugly as sin, so I turned to Mary the cook. I was then about seventeen years old.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She was now I think twenty-six or eight years old, big, stout, but as it seemed to me then, symetrical; she had exquisite teeth, blue eyes, and a fine complexion\u2014so fine that my mother remarked it. She was quiet in a remarkable degree, and treated me as a boy. Nine months before this I should as soon have dared to think of fucking my aunt, but experience had altered me. I thought of the light hair on her cunt, and of all I could not see, which Charlotte had innocently described to me; and the conclusions we had arrived at, that she frigged herself. Then I thought that after all, old as she was, and young as I was, she might like Charlotte, let me do her. I had once kissed her when Charlotte was with us, and she had taken it as if she was letting a child kiss her; I now tried it again, and got a quiet kiss in return; it was done with the air and manner of \u201cThere, there, you troublesome boy\u201d, which mortified me much.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I had now special tutors at home, and was at home when I liked, yet my chances with the cook were fewer than they had been with Charlotte, owing to her occupations. I was studying elementary chemistry, and when making some experiments in the garden parlour, burnt a table cover. My mother angry, said I had better experiment in the back kitchen again, so under that pretence, I managed to be downstairs frequently.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I used to watch Mary, slipping out into the outside passage leading to the servant\u2019s privy, and take pleasure in the idea of her piddling there. One day, I watched her coming back, she gave her clothes a tuck between her legs, and I knew it was to dry her cunt; opened the door just as she did it, she knew that I saw the action by my grin, and her face turned scarlet. I&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">kissed her that day, asked her timidly if she had dried it properly that morning. \u201cDried what?\u201d said she innocently. \u201cWhat I saw you drying when you came from the closet.\u201d She turned away without saying a word.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 87\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">A day or two after as she went upstairs to the parlour, I stopped, saw her legs, and told her she had jolly fat legs. She wished I would go upstairs, for I was in the way with my chemicals, and after that ceased talking to me. But it was difficult to avoid me, I got rude, would tuck my coat between my legs, laugh and make believe to stoop down to see her ankles, but she took no notice. Begging her to kiss me one day; she gave me two or three at once saying, \u201cThere now, go on with your chemicals\u201d, in such a motherly way, that it mortified me excessively; making me feel the difference in our ages, as a barrier to my hopes.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">But if discouraged one day, I got courage the next; impelled by a cock- stand, and my mother being out, I said, \u201cShould I not like to see your legs.\u201d For a wonder she answered, \u201cLook at your own.\u201d \u201cOh I\u201d I replied, they are not the same, you have got a slit between them, I have got something hanging, and ready to put into the slit.\u201d \u201cI wish you would go upstairs\u201d, said she, \u201cyou are always down here now.\u201d Then she told mother I was in her way, \u2014 I promised only to go to the back kitchen when it suited the cook, but did not keep my word.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She was alone one evening, I went home and downstairs, kissed and fondled, and would not be repulsed. At some time every woman is more yielding than at others, they always are if randy. Getting my courage up I said I wished she would let me feel her thing, then\u2019said, \u201cLet me do you\u201d, in a whisper. It was quite dusk down there when I said it. She was speechless for a full minute, whilst I kept repeating my demand. At length she replied, \u201cHow dare a boy like you, speak like that to a woman like me.\u201d \u201cI\u2014am not a boy\u201d, said I in anger; I have had many womrn, I know all about a woman\u2019s pleasure, I know where your thing is, I know why you tuck your hand outside your clothes after you have piddled.\u201d Then she pushed me out of the kitchen, but I thought she smiled.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Our family habits were much as they had been. but the weather getting finer, mother often took both Tom and the housemaid with her out for a walk; but not until the cook had dressed herself after our early dinner. Unless she took the housemaid out, I was worse off than ever. Yet my chances came.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 88\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Cook one day was alone in the kitchen darning a stocking; it was cold\u2014 the beginning of March\u2014her feet were on the old fashioned iron fender, I sat myself down on the fender, and we talked, I laid my hand on her lap, and tried quietly without letting her know it, to feel where she gartered. I felt the knot distinctly above her knee, thought how near it was to the cunt I was burning to feel, then put my hand up her clothes, and felt her naked leg under the knee.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She told me to leave off, my prick was standing, \u201cHave you not jolly big white thighs, I have heard of them\u201d, said I. \u201cHeard?\u201d said she. \u201cYes, and a good lot of hair between them.\u201d \u201cWho, to look at you would believe you were such a liar, such a young monkey; get out of the kitchen.\u201d She arose, drew some water, took it in one hand, some clean clothes in the other, and went upstairs, taking no further notice of me. I followed her a few steps up, then pushed my hands up her clothes on to her thighs, just beneath her backslide; round she swung facing me, and sat down on the stairs; in swinging round my hand came just into contact with the hair of her cunt; then with a push she sent me downstairs tumbling. As I got up she said quite quietly, \u201cIt\u2019s your fault if you are hurt; if you follow me, I will push you down again,\u201d \u201cI am stronger than you.\u201d I sung out, \u201cI don\u2019t care, so long as I can feel you.\u201d \u201cIf I was not so comfortable here in many ways, I would leave tomorrow\u201d, said she, continuing to go upstairs, and thinking she had settled me; but I followed, tried again, and she threw the whole jug of water over me. \u201cNow tell your mamma\u201d, said she, \u201cand I\u2019ll surprise her, she don\u2019t know her son\u201d, and again she pushed me down. That did not stop my tongue, for I had now got angry and reckless, sang out my wants, bawling out about her cunt, and said, \u201cDid you ever sit on the little privy seat Mary, tell me.\u201d She went up, and locked herself in her bedroom, till I was tired of waiting.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I had been a month at this fun, and as in Charlotte\u2019s case seemed not getting on at all, my experience was confined to one woman, and naturally I used to compare everything taking place, with what had taken place with her. To my inexperienced mind, there was a difference between the two women which I could not understand: when I first got my hand up Charlotte\u2019s clothes, she was as quick as me, struggled, screeched, and got my hand away, seemed in dread and astonished. When I got my hand on Mary\u2019s flesh, which I did repeatedly afterwards, she would turn round quite quietly, remove my hand with force, look at&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">me as if she were collecting her thoughts, did not seem at all alarmed, but gave me a lecture. When she kissed me afterwards, it seemed to be upon reflection, but she did it with force, looked me full in the face, then turned away. One day she said, \u201cI would not leave a sister of mine here, if she were young, for five times my wages, but I am old enough to keep you in your place.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 89\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Soon after mother was one day out, I at home, housemaid and Tom in the garden; it was a clear, bright day, there was a fire in the garden parlour, the garden window-door was shut, and I bolted it; it was about half-past three o\u2019clock, the cook was dressing, I burning with lust, went to my bedroom, opposite then to her door and listened. I heard the rattle of piddle, excitement got the better of my fears, I knocked. \u201cIt\u2019s not locked\u201d, she called out, thinking it was the house-maid; I opened the door, went in and closed it.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She was standing before the glass brushing her hair, with but stays on; over her chemise, I saw at a glance big white breasts, and big white legs up to her knees. She turned round, and seeing me, put her hands up to cover her breasts, stepped backwards till the bedstead stopped her, and said, \u201cGo out, mister Walter\u201d, but I threw my arms round her, clasping her tightly and kissing her on her breasts before she could repeat her request, and said, \u201cOh! do Mary, do let me.\u201d<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She did not answer, but disengaged herself from my arms. Crafty with lust and doubtless thinking of former experience, I dropped on my knees, in an instant had her chemise up, both hands round her great bum, and my mouth buried in the hair, kissing the outside of her cunt; she sat down nearly crushing my hands, between her bum and the bedstead, I withdrew them with a cry of pain.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She pushed me away; being on my knees, back I tumbled; as I did so, caught her chemise and lifted it; she put her hands down to prevent it; I kept my hold tightly, and it tore up with a noise, to where her stays stopped it from going further; but the rent disclosed thighs belly and motte simultaneously. She rose, tried to hide her nakedness, and stop the chemise going further, her legs got somehow entangled with mine, I fell back, and she fell clean over me. As I fell, my head struck the pot and overturned it, I felt the warm piddle round my neck and head, and at the same instant a heavy sort of blow on my nose, and hair on my lips\u2014it&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">was her naked belly and motte which struck me as she fell on me. We rolled over, and struggled for a second, I saw white thighs a huge bum, and then we were both up. She opened the window and shouted out, \u201cEliza, Eliza, I want you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 90\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Then she turned to me with her eyes wide open, her bosom palpitating, and said, \u201cGet out, you are a nice young blackguard, I would not have believed it, had I not found you out.\u201d And in the same breath hurriedly, \u201cOh! my God, Wattie, what is the matter?\u201d I felt a funny trickling sensation on my upper lip, and putting my hand up to feel, removed it covered with blood, the result of the blow of her motte on my nose, which was pouring down blood copiously, and dropping on to my shirt. The sight of blood always made me furious, \u201cIt\u2019s a blow from your belly,\u201d said I, \u201cyou did it purposely.\u201d She saw by that time it was not serious and said, \u201cit serves you right, and directly your mamma comes in I will tell her.\u201d \u201cDo,\u201d said I. She repeated, \u201cYou are a young blackguard.\u201d<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">In the excitement of opening the window, calling out, and seeing my nose bleeding, she had forgotten her torn chemise; and I had thought about nothing but my bleeding nose. Standing by the table to open the window, her form had been hidden, but she moved, disclosed the torn chemise, partly one of her hips, thigh, leg, and partially the hair of her cunt. \u201cI can see your cunt,\u201d said I staunching my nose. She snatched up the torn chemise, hiding herself with it. \u201cOh! go, go,\u201d said she, \u201coh I that mess, what shall I do!\u201d and she stopped to set up the piss-pot which was laying on one side; I rushed forward, nose still bleeding, and tried to feel the half naked thigh. \u201cFor God\u2019s sake go,\u201d said she, \u201chere is Eliza coming.\u201d I heard Tom lumping up step by step slowly, assisted by the house-maid, and bolted into my room.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I held the door ajar and listened. \u201cWhere is Master Walter?\u201d said the housemaid as she got to the top landing. \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d said Mary, \u201cis he not in the drawing-room?\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d replied Eliza, \u201cwhat do you want?\u201d The door dosed, I heard no more, but felt sure that Mary did not mean to tell. My nose left off bleeding, I washed it, and crept quietly downstairs.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Eliza and Tommy went down again into the garden; shortly afterwards down went cook into the kitchen, five minutes after down I went. It was always dullish in the afternoon there. I had thought that I might risk, and&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">as I passed the door from the kitchen leading into the garden, shot the bolt so that, had the housemaid come down that way, she could not get in also.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 91\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Mary was sitting close to the fire. \u201cNo more nonsense I hope,\u201d said she. There was a kiss and forgiveness soon given me, in her tranquil way.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Again I sat down on the huge kitchen fender, and the next instant was thinking what I had best do. I had seen those wonderfully large, white thighs, seen the thicket of lightish hair between them, had felt no cunt fully for weeks, and was dying with lust. She was as serene as if nothing had happened, and kissed me, but in the usual motherly sort of way. She rose up saying, \u201cI must begin to shut up; what is Eliza staying out so late in the garden with that child for?\u201d That instant I thrust my hand up her clothes, got it on to the motte, and clutched the hair between my fingers; it was easy enough, for it was about the longest and thickest motte thatch I have yet felt. Down she sat, and tried to push me away, but I had firm hold of the hair, and as I did on a similar occasion with Charlotte, pulled and hurt her; she ceased to push me off, and there I stopped, my prick throbbing, and every fibre in me, palpitating with the lust of long continance. Then I pulled and hurt her again, threatening to hurt her more still unless she let me feel her; knowing the housemaid must knock before she could get in suddenly, I was bold.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She bore my tugs with a little flinching and never answered my entreaties. I had found my courage, and used the words cunt and fuck; it was getting dark; looking at me steadily, she said, \u201cSo young and yet so cruel, five minutes ago you were saying you were so fond of me, and now you are trying to hurt me; you promised you would not touch me again, now you are doing it; you are all alike, young and old, cruel and liars.\u201d I felt ashamed, but was mad with lust. \u201cA youth, like you, and so quiet as you look.\u201d \u201cYouth! I am a man, have had women, feel me, let me feel you, oh ! do feel me.\u201d I had my prick out. To get better at her, go from the fender on to my knees, and was pushing my hand between her thighs with energy. Pulling her bum back, she stooped, and her face came near mine. \u201cKiss me, feel me, and I will indeed leave off, I have seen your belly, let me feel it, and I will leave off.\u201d \u201cYou will break your word again,\u201d said she. \u201cI swear not.\u201d She put her face to mine and kissed me, her right hand dropped, and gently laid hold of my prick, her thighs just&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">so little opened that my fingers passed the hair and felt the smooth inner face of the lips; it was too much for me, for some hours my prick had been standing off and on, I had been pulling it about, longing and hoping to use it, and for a long time no emission had left it.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 92\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I felt my sperm coming, and could not stop it, my arse jogged and pushed my prick involuntarily between her fingers, pleasure suddenly overwhelmed me, and kissing her I spent in her hand\u2014all the work of half a minute. Then burning shame came over me, I could kiss her no longer, dared not look her in the face, nor keep my hand between her thighs, but rose quickly and without a word rushed upstairs to my bedroom.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I have done for myself I thought, what a beast she will think me, I shall never dare to speak to her again, and was ready to cry; little knowing then that every step in baudiness, is a step towards the end, and that my spunk on her hand, would help me to shed some in her elsewhere.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Feeling so uncomfortable I went out; calling out to the housemaid, that I should be home about eight o\u2019clock, went to a friend\u2019s, had dinner, but could not talk nor scarcely eat. My friend joked and asked if I was in love. My prick was standing again after I had eaten, I went home, making up my mind to go to bed early, preferring solitude and my own thoughts; it was about seven P. M., to my astonishment Mary opened the door. I felt my face hot, and could scarcely look at her; she was as tranquil as ever, nothing ever seemed to disturb that woman. This tranquility reassured me, the more so when I found mother was still out. The housemaid had gone out to make a few purchases, leaving Mary alone with Tommy, who she was just going to put to bed, and upstairs she went with him for that purpose, without speaking to me.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">What a chance ! oh ! if I had not been such a beast. My prick rose stiff, the afternoon\u2019s spend was the first I had had for a long time, a stiff prick gives courage, and darkness helps. We are alone, she said nothing as I spent in her hand, indeed went on kissing me when spending, what if I ask her again? What an age she seemed putting Tommy to bed, at last I heard her say, \u201cGo to sleep, mamma will be home soon,\u201d and she went up to her bedroom. She is going thought I to sit there till Eliza knocks, and did not dare go up, but stood listening in the hall, feeling my prick and longing; at last I heard her coming down with slow, measured steps. In&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">the hall, I flung my arms around her, kissing and begging her to forgive me. \u201cI could not help it,\u201d said I in a whisper, \u201cyou do not know how I longed for you.\u201d \u201cLet me go downstairs,\u201d said she.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 93\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The garden parlour door was open. \u201cCome in here and talk.\u201d I pulled her in with but little difficulty, pushed her down on the sofa, and put both arms round her. The door closed, leaving a small opening; there was no light, but the gleam which shot from the hall-lamp through the door ajar; I could barely see her face, and sat by her begging forgiveness and kissing, but got no reply. My prick was more than stiff, I put my hand down on her lap, on to her knees, then down to her feet, waiting a second at each advance\u2014no movement. My hand slipped up bit by bit, it passed her ankle, her garter, and was on the flesh above \u2014 still no movement. I hesitated and begged\u2014no reply. Up further went my hand, the thighs were not closed, but let my hand slip between them, a long drawn sigh came from her as my fingers buried themselves in a fat, warm quim. I pushed her back gently, and put her hand on to my prick; she held it tight, and in a whisper said, \u201cWill you never tell anyone?\u201d By my body and soul I swore it; the thighs opened wider, her body fell back and disposed itself on the sofa, my hands roved over a large expanse of flesh, I could see the white mass only, the rest seemed dark. I kissed the hair on her cunt which I could not see, felt the smooth velvety haunches, and threw myself on one of the finest, whitest and broadest bellies I ever yet have had close to mine. The thighs opened to receive me, and the next moment my prick was gliding up her cunt\u2014she was not a virgin.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">What a heavenly sense of satisfaction at being up a cunt again. I could scarcely realize my success; my hands felt between the fat lips, to ensure my being in all right. I was conscious of a difference between her and Charlotte, the way she lay, the size of the thighs, the quantity of hair, and a quiescent manner, made her as different as possible from my former sweetheart. Novelty made me think this one more delicious, but nature would not postpone, and was impelling her as well as me; was tightening her cunt round my prick, her body was thrilling for a spend. I pushed as her cunt tightening, roused me, tighter was my prick grasped within her; her arms folded across me, drew me towards her like a vice; her belly moved up quite slowly to mine, as if to throw me off, then moved twice or thrice as if in a spasm\u2014a sigh, and her belly sunk down as slowly as it had risen up, drawing my sperm into her, as she spent.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 94\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">We lay without stirring, or uttering a word for a long time, supremely happy; my prick lingered as if it intended to stop permanently in its trap, she made no effort to dislodge it; at last it began to shrink, then curiosity began, down went my hand between our bellies, wet as if from a bath of gruel was my doodle and her quim. Then she spoke\u2014the first words uttered \u2014\u201dNo \u2014 no \u2014.\u201d The feel had such an effect on me, that my prick began again to stiffen. I had with Charlotte failed ignominiously two or three times, in a third fuck on the same day, and feared a failure now. I kissed and felt her, as far as my hands and our clothes would let me, she moved her bum up gently to let my hand under it, tut not a word could I get. from her. \u201cCan I do it again?\u201d thought I, and began pushing\u2014yes it was stiffening, and again was that cunt tightening. I push harder, \u2014 with a gentle heave the belly comes up, I am off on the ride without having withdrawn; was this the fist time I had ever been man enough to do it twice without uncunting? I think so.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The passage of privates was longer, I felt more movement in her buttocks, her sighs were stronger, her hand moved more restlessly over my back, our mouths got glued together. Her lips are wet, or it is mine which are getting wet? There is a new, voluptous sensation I never experienced before, it delights me; I glued my lips tighter to hers, our heaves are quicker, our sighs shorter, I feel the least bit of her tongue touching my lips. I had never heard of that voluptuous accompaniment of fucking, and it was to me an inspiration; shooting out my tongue into her mouth, \u2014 hers comes out to meet it; they are exchanging liquids, \u2014 the delight spreads electrically through our bodies, \u2014 up comes her belly, \u2014 shorter are my shoves, \u2014 a quivering wriggle to get deeper up her\u2014 and we both spend together, as it seems with more pleasure than I ever did before. How strange I should recollect this all so clearly.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The delights of the wet kisses are new to me; although not able to see them, I thought of her exquisite teeth, and rolled my tongue over them. She kisses me, still holds me, again my hand goes down to feel the parts now separating, slobbered, and sticky with past joy; out comes my prick, and then she speaks. \u201cNo\u2014no,\u201d she sits up, I by her side, my hand on her naked thighs for a minute. She gets up, gives me a long kiss, goes to her room, and soon after comes down, her eyes wet with crying, \u201cDon\u2019t come near me, don\u2019t be unkind, let me alone,\u201d she says. Her manner was so&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">commanding, that I let her go to the kitchen without following her. Shortly Eliza and then my mother came home.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 95\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Mad for her again, I took to my chemistry in the back kitchen constantly, you may be sure. When I got the chance, spoke of our pleasures and my hopes. \u201cWe ought,\u201d said she, \u201cboth to be ashamed of ourselves, but I especially who am so many years older than you, ought to have known better; if I am punished it will serve me right. Oh ! if you don\u2019t hold your tongue ! My risk is more than you have any idea of.\u201d All was said in a way as if she were preaching, and looking me full in the face.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She refused what I wanted and avoided me, but it was impossible for her altogether to escape me. Risking everything, emboldened by impunity with Charlotte, I used to clutch her knees, and put my head up her clothes, kissing and smelling her motte, I began to love the smell of it. She used to dislodge me, and neither made a noise, nor uttered a word in doing so \u2014indeed she rarely spoke at any time. But it is difficult for a woman who has been fucked by a man to refuse him again; I watched my opportunities, my conversation broken as it was, and rarely but for a minute at a .time, was one repetition of lustful wants and prayers; I used to pull my prick out, beg her to see and feel it. At length she did, saying, \u201cMay God forgive me for my weakness.\u201d That day I fucked her again standing in the kitchen, and a second time a few hours afterwards in the dusk, which experience began to show me was the time she was most accessible; the other servant was somewhere in the house at the time I recollect.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">After that her manner changed, she ceased to resist; but when I asked her to go to a house with me, she said, \u201cNo, no, I am not coming to that.\u201d Now, though tranquil, she was more capricious, sometimes letting me feel her, or do it to her with impatience; at other times with evident desire to please; but I was so often baulked, and I plagued her so incessantly to meet me somewhere, that at length she did, saying, \u201cWell, it little matters, as I have made my bed, so I must lie on it.\u201d I did not know then what she meant by that.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She got a holiday, we had food at a tavern, went to the house to which I first took Charlotte, and into the same room ; what a reminiscence ! As I got to the door, she looked nervously round and said, \u201cI may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.\u201d It was a joyous day for me. Once in the&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">house she became gay and amatory, threw off all restraint, and abandoned herself to sexual enjoyment in a way she never did but twice again.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 96\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She was simply dressed as was customary with servants in those days. Soon I had her standing naked before me with but boots and stockings on. And what a sight she was. Quite five feet eight high, stout, yet as it seemed to me then, without a single part of her body either flabby or shapeless, her skin was of such dazzling whiteness that her white stockings looked dull by contrast, very light brown hair, which when pulled out nearly hung to her waist, the hair of her cunt and arm-pits in quantity of a lighter golden brown; all looked much darker than their true colour, against the dazzling whiteness of the skin. Ample calves and thighs, breasts firm as ivory, her arms to match in plumpness and whiteness, her hands alone discoloured by work, looked dark against the rest of her glorious person. I recollect this all well, and that at that time I disliked light-haired women : but in her suddenly, the light hair appeared to me lovely.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She changed in manner that day from a condescending matron, to a lover of my own age; had the complacency of a gay woman, tempered with modesty. I had no notion of baudily posturing women which I learned in after life, but had an innate love and perception of all that was beautiful, and began placing her in attitudes favorable to the contemplation of her charms. She complied with all; from belly to side, from side to back I turned her; she smiled as if pleased, curious, and astonished; and when I turned to quench my passion in her, she met me with an ardour less demonstrative, but more stifling and satisfying than Charlotte; it was a worry to think that I had twice lucked her, and seemed to have finished each time before I had began fucking.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The firmness of her flesh impressed me, whether I put my finger between the cheeks of her arse or between her thighs I could with difficulty get it away; she could have cracked a nut between either. The next wonder was the hair of her cunt, which was long but curly; I now see that she could not have pissed without wetting it, which accounted for her always what we youths used to call mopping it, after she had piddled. The cunt looked twice as big as Charlotte\u2019s, but the prick-hole seemed to me smaller; and whether my finger or my prick was in it,&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">seemed to grasp it tightly. My prepuce used to give me then at times pain just before, or when I spent in Charlotte; in Mary I scarcely seemed to feel it, and afterwards a quiet sort of grinding of her cunt, prolonged my pleasure until my penis left it. I was so new to the work, that all those differences impressed me, I compared and thought of them constantly.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 97\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She gave no violent writhes, nor twists, nor jerked her arse, nor wriggled as she spent, but just as my short thrusts came on, her belly used gradually to heave up and grow into mine; her cunt almost seemed to be sucking my prick, whilst it throbbed and jetted its sperm into her; my hardest thrusts never hurt; Charlotte used to complain if my prick was too vigorous in her. Then when her pleasure was over; lolling her tongue against mine, and sucking my very breath from me, she quietly subsided; leaving me to lay in her, until with a kiss, she would gently doze off with me in her arms.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">A taste had developed as said, which I have retained to the present time. I loved to see a woman piddle, used to make Charlotte do it as often as I could, to place my hand under the stream, and feel its splash on my fingers; and if chance let me hear the rattle in a pot, or sec a woman rising up from the attitude, my prick used to stand. I did this with her greatly to her astonishment, she resented it so much that I never repeated it : singular that a woman who would let me lay and kiss her cunt, or put finger and prick up it; should refuse to let me see the water come from it\u2014but so it was.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Charlotte I loved, and used to feel as if she were part and parcel of me for life, when I was up her, with Mary I thought of thighs, backside, cunt, and her other parts, without much liking her beyond the desire of spending in her. My impression is that I must have fucked that day, as much as I ever did in my life on one day; my mother remarked that I looked ill and worn out when I got home, and again fell on her favorite belief that I was overstudying. How she could have permitted a young man to be so often in the kitchen, and near to female servants, seems to me a marvel of stupidity, \u2014 but she did.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Nothing opens a man and woman\u2019s heart to each other like fucking. A woman laying satisfied by your side, her cunt bedewed with your spunk, with fingers touching your prick, and mouth fresh from contact with yours; will tell you more than she will at any other time. She did that day.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">She had thought me a mere boy, getting baudy with coming manhood, and had liked me. My quiet, demure manner, made her imagine that such an attack from me, was among the most improbable things; when I began she made up her mind to leave, but then came the mystery, \u2014 there were circumstances which rendered it needful for her to stay where she was, if possible\u2014what they were she would not say. My assault on her in the bedroom and all that followed upset all her ideas, filled her mind with images of lust and pleasure, and left that undefined sensation and unsatisfied longing which is known as randiness. I suddenly seemed a man to her. My spending in her hand upset her still more. I asked if that had made her let me have her. She replied, \u201cI gave up the self denial of years, abandoned my intentions, and let you do it; when you pushed me into the garden parlour I intended to let you as I went in, I had not quite intended before.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<p><\/p>\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">There was the greatest difficulty after that day in getting her, for my mother seemed always in my way, and objected to my being in the kitchen. Mary never helped me as Charlotte used, as cook indeed she could not. She ran no risks, and was never in a hurry, so where I had Charlotte half a dozen times, I could scarcely get Mary once.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She met me out again, and in a fortnight asked for another holiday. It astonished my mother, for more than a year she scarcely had gone out, and never had taken a whole holiday. What another day of ballocking it was, in that old, snug, baudy house\u2014but we had a quarrel there.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Even with my inexperience, I knew she was different from Charlotte at the first poke. I used in my mind to compare the differences. Charlotte\u2019s curiosity, the manifest novelty of fucking to her, even for a couple of months after her splitting and bleeding; was so different from the steady, quiet, well satisfied way with which Mary copulated. Pondering over this, I wondered if she had been done before, how often, and by how many, or had I been the first? The idea of asking her was always floating through my brain. That day I said to her as her face was towards mine on the pillow, and I was toying with her bubbies, \u201cI wonder who had you before me.\u201d She sat up, looked me steadily in the face, and replied, \u201cYou have no right to ask me, you are not my husband.\u201d But tell me.\u201d \u201cI shall not, it is an impertinence; how can a youth like you know anything about first or second.\u201d I blurted out, \u201cBecause when first I did it to Char\u2014\u201d the name&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">was almost out of my mouth, but I stopped in time, \u201cwhen I first had a young woman (correcting myself), I could not easily get into her, it tore my prick, and she bled.\u201d \u201cWho was it ?\u201d said she. \u201cOh! a young woman.\u201d \u201cBut who was it?\u201d I did not reply. \u201cWas it Charlotte?\u201d and she looked me hard and full in the face. \u201cNo,\u201d said I. \u201cNow was it? Tell me,\u201d said she bending over, kissing and coaxing me. \u201cNo, it was not.\u201d \u201cI believe it was, you once said she was young, and had dark brown hair\u2014it was she.\u201d In vain I denied it. \u201cI felt sure it was, and with a youth like you ! Is it possible you can have harmed that nice girl ! What a wretched, wicked lot you all are, you will be as bad as the others.\u201d Then she suddenly said, \u201cMind, you have sworn solemnly never to mention to any living soul about me; oh ! once forget yourself, and it\u2019s all up with a woman.\u201d Then she laid down, again her manner became quiet and voluptuous\u2014another fuck followed. I again tried the question. She settled me by saying, \u201cIf ever you ask me that question again, I will not let you have me afterwards,\u201d and I never did ask her that I can recollect until just before she felt us.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 99\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">But she for some time after asked ME questions about my first woman, \u201cwas she tall? were her teeth as good as hers?\u201d and so on. How far she satisfied herself that it was Charlotte, she never said; for I don\u2019t recollect that she mentioned her name again, and I gave wrong descriptions; but may have got more information than I meant her to have, as she asked me at odd times when I was off my guard.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">A third time, to the still greater surprise of my mother, she took a holiday. We spent it at the house, and she exhausted me and herself. For a day or two afterwards she gave me every chance at home, and we fucked furiously. She took to calling me a dear fellow, when her tongue was not against mine, but which was always the case when our mouths got together; and I imagine now, must have been a greater luxury to her than it was then to me. Soon after she received several letters which I said were from her lover. \u201cI wish they were,\u201d said she. Then she took ill, and when better, refused me altogether. I had opportunities, but she would not. I said I wished I had never seen her; she said she wished so too, for she was fond of me, although it was ridiculous at her age and mine. Afterwards when mother was one evening at the bottom of the garden, Eliza gone out to the library. I seized Mary as she closed the shutters; kissing and begging her. She opened her thighs, my fingers&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">were on her clitoris; she kissing me at intervals said: \u201cOhI no, oh! I can\u2019t, dear\u2014I dare not Walter, Walter, you must not; I am a married woman, and am going home to my husband most likely.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 100\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Soon afterwards she told me her history. Married seven years previously, her husband became dissipated and unfaithful; and from being a well-to- do tradesman, brought himself to the condition of a labourer. She forgave him until he gave her a disease, then she left him as she had threatened to do. Nothing he could say would induce her to have anything more to do with him. \u201cIs there anything about me that a man could not be satisfied with for years?\u201d she asked, as if I were a judge.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She went home to her mother. He appears to have been fond of her. Love of women was his great fault; but the disease so set her against him, that all his entreaties were useless. Nevertheless she was his wife, and getting into the mother\u2019s house one day, when she was alone (Mary), he fucked her with violence\u2014and violent it must have been, for she was as strong as a horse. Directly afterwards she left and went to service in London, confiding only her address to her mother, taking a false name, and writing him, that if ever he found her out and annoyed her, she would go abroad. Her husband made the mother a sort of promise to keep steady for three months, but failed in doing so, went to America, had never ceased to write affectionate letters which came to her through her mother, and had recently written to say he had made a large sum of money, and was coming home. He had sent money home to the mother with instructions to settle it on Mary how she liked, provided she would come back to him. Afterwards she showed me his letters; they were well written, and in a style above a man of his position in life.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She had lived in service ever since; with us she had then been a year and a half, and had had but two other places. One she left because a grown up son began to pay her too much attention. At the other the master \u2014a married man\u2014made love to her, and one day tried to force her. I know the last place, it was about three miles from us.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">This news came like a cold bath on me. It suited my taste to have a woman in the house. The idea of losing her was terrible. She refused me my pleasures. I doubted her truth at times, but whenever I did, she would fetch a letter as proof saying, \u201cNow will you believe me?\u201d She refused to say where her home had been, and what her real name was. I&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">used to try to make out the postmark on her letters, but could not. They were negligent in those days in such matters, and postage was dear.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 101\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">And now I again asked if she had had any other but her husband and me; by all that was holy she declared she had not. \u201cHow came you to let me?\u201d \u201cGod in heaven knows I\u201d said she, \u201cmonths ago if anyone had said such a thing was possible, I should have said it was ridiculous; I only thought of you as a tall boy, but that day I felt that my life was passing away without the pleasures of a woman; what you did kneeling down in the kitchen upset me, then I let you; though I thought I should ruin myself by doing so.\u201d<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She cared but little for her husband, for he had caused her to lead the life of a widow for years. \u201cSuppose I had done anything wrong,\u201d said she, \u201cand he had found it out, he would have cast me away; but you men can do what you like, and we poor women have to submit.\u201d \u201cBut why go back?\u201d \u201cFour months ago I would not have done so, but you have made me find out I am a woman after all; you will understand that better as you grow older. Not many would have kept chaste as I have done until that night. Now I mistrust myself. I am getting fond of you, but what could come of it? And if anything came to the ears of my mother and friends, who are respectable, I should drown myself. I have got plenty of will of my Awn, although I am quiet.\u201d \u201cYou don\u2019t care much about poking?\u201d<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cI have had my wants, but suppressed them,\u201d she replied. \u201cWhat did you do?\u201d \u201cOh I\u201d said she in an off hand way, \u201cwhat other unmarried women do, I suppose.\u201d \u201cFrigged yourself.\u201d She gave a nod and said, \u201cAnd not often that.\u201d I thought of what Charlotte had told me, but held my tongue.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I tried to get at her at intervals, but it was no use. \u201cIt\u2019s caprice,\u201d said I with my prick out, \u201cyou let me when I wanted it three weeks ago, why not now?\u201d \u201cI can\u2019t, \u2014 I dare not, \u2014 it might be certain ruin now.\u201d \u201cWhat does a fellow care about ruin, when his hand is outside a cunt, and his prick is like an iron rod?\u201d Twice as strong as me, she could at all times have escaped me, unless sexual desire was strong on her; desire gives a man force, but it takes away a woman\u2019s force. She rose up, nor would she continue talking, until I had buttoned up my prick and promised not to touch her; that done, she said, \u201cWould you wish to ruin me? You might if I let you, I have been very ill as you know, was in the family way, my&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">monthlies stopped, and I have brought them on. When I was in trouble that way, I let you do what you like, now I am going home, what would become of me if I were in the family way then? This explained all.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 102\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I had never given her a present, I never gave Charlotte one; having then so little money. I never thought about it. I had now more, and offered to give her some if she wanted any. She showed me a saving-bank\u2019s book. She had got nearly fifty pounds. I bought a pair of gold earrings for her, it was the first present I had even given a woman, and she was much pleased. I had I think some vague notion, that it would induce her to let me have her; but if so, I was deceived.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Mother seemed to be keeping at home to baulk me. My chemicals had been taken back into the garden parlour. I knew she wanted to go to my aunt\u2019s; but one morning it was too hot, then it rained, and so on. How I restrained myself from frigging I don\u2019t know, for I used to walk up and down my bed-room with my prick out stiff, and looking at it; at length a chance came\u2014my last.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Mother went to aunt\u2019s, the ugly housemaid said, \u201cAs Master Tom wont be at home, do you mind my going out for a couple of hours?\u201d \u201cNo,\u201d said my mother, \u201cwhen the cook is ready.\u201d \u201cPlease will you tell the, cook Mamm\u2019,\u201d said she, \u201cor she wont let me go.\u201d I had then a tutor in mathematics who came on that day, but promised to fetch mother home. I had many times broken my promises to do so, to enable me to get at Mary. Mother said, \u201cI hope you mean what you say, you are getting a man, and should never break your word.\u201d Anxious to know when the house-maid would go; I asked her. \u201cI am not going till five o\u2019clock, sir,\u201d said she, \u201cunless you particularly want the books,\u201d \u201cThat will be too late, for I am.to fetch mamma home, \u2014 never mind.\u201d<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I finished with my tutor, and out I went. But at about five o\u2019clock came home near to the house, wondering if the housemaid had gone, (Mary I had not spoken a word to), waited in sight of the house, and at last saw a form I guessed to be the housemaid\u2019s, going off fast towards the village; five minutes afterwards I knocked, and Mary opened the door. Said she, \u201cWhat brings you home?\u201d I said I was unwell, had a bad cold, could not go for my mother, would go to bed, would she fetch me a foot-bath, and went to my bedroom. I had been two days planning the thing, an old dodge it was though.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 103\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">It was hot and quite light, but I drew down the blinds, undressed and put on my nightgown; she brought the bath, we talked. She had not heard from her mother again, it was strange, \u2014 was she being played with? It took weeks then to get to America. I kissed and got closer to her, we were on the edge of the bed; I spoke of our meetings and our pleasures, she avoided the subject, said I should take cold, prayed me to have the foot- bath and go to bed. Gradually I got my hand on her thighs, how could she help it? \u2014 a woman who had been fucked by me a lot of times. But she was firm in refusing me. I lifted my night-shirt, my prick stood up, the shirt hanging at the back of it like clothes on the hook of a prop. Finding that useless, I threatened to frig myself and began the operation. She said I ought to be ashamed of myself, that she would leave if I did not desist, and turned to go, when I pulled her on to the bed. Soon my fingers were on her slit, her fingers on my prick. \u201cI dare not let you, \u2014 oh! pray!\u201d she said, but she was vanquished, silent, and tranquilly laid down on the bed; nature was too strong for her.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I lifted her chemise, had a glimpse of the lovely plump calves, and large, fleshy thighs, as I threw myself impetuously upon her. My belly closed with hers, and pushing my knuckles through the hairs, I guided my prick towards her cunt, but alas! too late. The long abstinence and the excitement were too much for me; just as my fingers opened the cunt- lips, and my prick touched her cunt, throb\u2014throb\u2014gush\u2014gush, and over my fingers, over her thighs, into the thicket of hair, on to the clitoris, on to the smooth, round bum-cheeks below\u2014anywhere\u2014everywhere excepting the right place, my sperm spurted out: and only the last drop remained just as I buried my prick in her. Then instead of meeting her humid tongue with mine, I sank on her breast kissing, yet damning and cursing like a dragoon, at my spoiled pleasure, \u2014 I had spent out of sheer copiousness of spunk, and excitement.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Said she, \u201cIt is as well as it is, get off.\u201d I made no reply, hoping my sexual force would return, for my prick was in her sheath. She moved to release herself. Stronger far than me, she could in any other attitude have easily done so; but the most difficult position for a woman to disengage herself from a man, is when he is on the top of her, well between her thighs, and clasping her backside tightly. As she moved there was no strong will in it; how could it be otherwise? She in the prime of life had been without it for weeks, nature was pleading for me, my prick was in her, my spunk all&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">about her. To gain time I promised to get off in a minute. \u201cKiss me.\u201d Our mouths and tongues met. It was like magic. A voluptuous throb passed through both of us, my prick stiffened to the full, a sympathetic grind of her cunt responded; again we were in the full tide of pleasure, fucking and spending together, the future was forgotten as we sunk quietly down. I had spent twice without uncunting; scarcely was it over than she pushed me off, and washed out her cunt in my foot bath.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 104\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">We sat on the side of the bed kissing and feeling each other, it was like the old time, the door wide open to hear the street door knocks. When the house-maid knocked, into bed I got; an hour afterwards home came my mother and into my bedroom. She approved of the hot foot-bath, but insisted on my taking a febrifuge. To keep up the sham, I took it, Mary brought it and stoodby, whilst my mother gave it to me; my prick was again standing like a prop at the sight of Mary, and as my mother pulled the bed-clothes over me, she might, if she had had eyes, seen my prick pushing them almost up.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Next morning she gave notice to leave. I never had her again. On one or two occasions I felt her, and if there had been more time might perhaps have had her. At the end of a fortnight she told me that her monthlies were all right. From that day she resolutely refused to even let me feel her. \u201cI don\u2019t much care about going back,\u201d said she; \u201cI don\u2019t think I shall be happy, but I do it for the best; at all events I shall have a home.\u201d The day before she went she said, \u201cGoodbye, God bless you, you are a good fellow,\u201d but you will play mischief with many a poor girl here before you have done. \u201cI like you very much, and shall always thing of you.\u201d I never heard of her after, and with her, passed from me the woman who is still in my recolelction as one of the most beautiful, and perfect in form; as one who gave me the greatest sexual pleasure, \u2014 but I was of course very young and inexperienced.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">My mother remarked that she was the most trust-worthy servant she ever had; but that there was a mystery about her. Her boxes were labelled for a place that the coach would not take her to, and her boxes were not like a servant\u2019s. \u201cI think she has been crossed in love and ran away,\u201d said mother. Said I, \u201cPerhaps she had gone off with a bobby,\u201d it was a current joke then, policemen not having been long invented. My mother said in her severe way, \u201cShe is a virtuous woman, a youth like&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">you should not utter ignorant jokes about women, especially about the humbler classes, to whom good reputation is everything.\u201d I began to see plainer than ever, that I could humbug mother after that.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #781c1c; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 105\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Many of our conversations are told here in her very words, others as nearly as I can recollect them. I have often wondered at the way this woman behaved to me, talked to me, and all about her. The circumstances as they occurred, even at the time seemed peculiar; I felt as if I was wicked in getting into her, almost as if I was going to poke my mother; but I cannot attempt to analyze motives or sensations, I simply narrate facts. Certain it is, that I never have had a woman who in behaviour resembled Mary, in manner, conversation, and general behaviour, \u2014 I always felt as if she were a superior person to me, as if she were obliging me and not herself, and was putting me under an obligation, by letting me fuck her.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Again lonely, I not only wanted cunt, but also the society of a woman, it was so sweet to see and talk, to some one I fucked; to do so secretly, was an additional charm, and I used to feel quite sad. I was then about in my eighteenth year.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/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 6 Mary the cook. \u2022 A bloody nose and broken piss-pot. \u2022 An involuntary spend. \u2022 A feel and a poke. \u2022 A new sensation. \u2022 At a baudy house. \u2022 Mary\u2019s history. \u2022 She leaves. As the certainty that all was finished between us came to me, I got better, my &hellip;<\/p>\n<p class=\"read-more\"> <a class=\"\" href=\"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1241\"> <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Volume One Chapter Six<\/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-1241","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1241"}],"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=1241"}],"version-history":[{"count":16,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1241\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1905,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1241\/revisions\/1905"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1241"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}