{"id":1484,"date":"2022-08-21T17:09:44","date_gmt":"2022-08-21T17:09:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1484"},"modified":"2022-09-13T17:11:39","modified_gmt":"2022-09-13T17:11:39","slug":"volume-four-chapter-four","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1484","title":{"rendered":"Volume Four Chapter Four"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t<div data-elementor-type=\"wp-page\" data-elementor-id=\"1484\" class=\"elementor elementor-1484\" 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-2d07df2 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"2d07df2\" 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-c05f314\" data-id=\"c05f314\" 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-459b18f elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"459b18f\" 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\/1ysYnfWa2nm4myfVgZONh6\" 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-f9d55a2\" data-id=\"f9d55a2\" 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-772eeb9 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"772eeb9\" 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\/7doErKkJdNtmi4fd8V53lz\" 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-aba5e53 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"aba5e53\" 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-a85e56e\" data-id=\"a85e56e\" 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-7f28c2f elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"7f28c2f\" 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 style=\"box-sizing: inherit;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit; width: 1083px;\"><main style=\"box-sizing: inherit;\"><article style=\"box-sizing: inherit;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit;\" data-elementor-type=\"wp-page\" data-elementor-id=\"2780\" data-elementor-settings=\"[]\"><div><section data-id=\"4ebd306\" data-element_type=\"section\"><div><div style=\"width: 1083px;\" data-id=\"0c5189c\" data-element_type=\"column\"><div style=\"width: 1083px;\"><div style=\"width: 1063px; text-align: center; color: #5d1010; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif;\" data-id=\"03583da\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"text-editor.default\"><div><div title=\"Page 661\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><b>VOLUME 4 CHAPTER 4<\/b><\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><i>Mrs. Y***s***e. \u2022 A neglectful husband. \u2022 Domestic unhappiness. \u2022 At a ball. \u2022 Longings for maternity. \u2022 The wish expressed. At supper. \u2022 Hands under the table-cloth. \u2022 On the road home. \u2022 The family carriage. \u2022 Premonitory touches. \u2022 No coach on the stand. \u2022 The attempt. \u2022 On my knees. \u2022 Jolting difficulties. \u2022 The trick done.<\/i><\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Sarah Mavis had gone, Louisa Fisher had disappeared, Jenny was married to her John. I had gone through the lascivious dissipation which relieved me in my despair after my disappointed love; and almost immediately I entered into a liaison of an entirely different character. Its seeds were sown even when I visited Mavis, though I was not conscious of it till I began to write this portion of my narrative, and to reflect.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">[How far chance determined my course in this liaison, how far an unoccupied mind and a prick with no regular claims on its exertions (for I had all but totally forsaken the connubial couch) combined to bring it about, I cannot say. Certainly my attention seems to have been led toward the lady instinctively. Perhaps it was because the lady\u2019s cunt was yearning for my sperm, a yearning which the owner of that \u201cnest of spicery\u201d was herself at first barely conscious of, and even when she was, never disclosed it. I believe also that she never had any intention of gratifying it for lustful pleasure alone; but that maternal instinct drove her toward me. I shall always think that some magnetic or odic, or call it what you may, some subtle, semi-ethereal influence, born of her physical wants, communicated itself to me, without either word or look of invitation from her; and generated in me a lust for her. In the end we gratified our wants together. I for sexual pleasure with a beautiful accomplished lady, she for a higher and powerful claim (almost a holy one) of her nature. Nothing in my private career presents such a psychological curiosity as this liaison does. It seems to me as I again read the manuscript, almost like a fable, yet it is as true as fact can make truth.]<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">We were on somewhat intimate terms with Mr. and Mrs. Y***s***e, I had known her in her youth, but her husband only since their marriage\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">of about six years previously. It was a most unlucky union. She was an intellectual, charming, beautiful woman and had married him thinking it a wonderful match, for she was poor, though a born thoroughbred lady. He was a big, handsome man, a manufacturer, and very rich; but within a year after their marriage he had developed a host of vices, among them gambling and drunkenness. He neglected her, though he spoke of her in the highest terms, and kept up a splendid establishment. I knew that he frequented gay women, and that his drunkenness and whorings were driving him toward ruin and imbecility. Things were of course kept as quiet as they could be by the wife, but it became known among friends that he often went to bed drunk, and had even pissed the bed.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div title=\"Page 662\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">His wife took a huge disgust at him. They, I had heard, did not sleep together often, and although they went out together as man and wife, they led an unhappy existence at home. \u201cPoor Mrs. Y***s****e!\u201d were the terms usually applied to her. She kept up appearances, went much into society, gave splendid dinners and entertainments at which her husband was frequently absent. Chagrin told on her, her face assumed a pensive, sad, and even peevish expression; and then some people said she was ill- tempered, and had driven her husband into evil courses. It was false, for I had heard her husband, \u2014 whom I could not bear, \u2014 say how good she was, and bewail his own bad habits which he said he could not help, \u2014 they conquered him.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I met her out frequently, most frequently at houses where she was without her husband, and I without my curse, though sometimes otherwise. My domestic troubles were known to her, hers to me. There might have been some secret sympathy on this account between us. All I know is that I was sorry for her, and wondered how such a lovely creature got on with a man of such brutal, beastly habits. Her manner to me had always been soft and winning, chance had at dinner-parties often assigned her to me. \u201cI\u2019m so glad to take you in to dinner,\u201d said I one night just before the time I am going to speak of. \u201cSo am I,\u201d said she, \u201cI\u2019ve more pleasure in talking to you than to any one of our acquaintance.\u201d Whenever we had met I had seen her eyes following me, yet not the shadow of voluptuousness had been shown, nor any improper advance had been made by her. Delighted with the hug that the waltz gave an occasion for, and the squeeze of the hand which the dance\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">sometimes permits, yet a lustful idea had never entered my head about her, though unconsciously I always was looking at her whenever we met.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div title=\"Page 663\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">We had a habit of asking after each other, as if mutually conscious that in our homes we had troubled lives; yet we never complained to each other, though often we made slightly bitter remarks. There was a veiled meaning in what we said, but nothing in the slightest degree improper.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The following conversation took place at a dance, it is pretty nearly word for word. Said she with a sigh, \u201cAh! you men can escape your troubles, we poor women cannot.\u201d \u201cHow?\u201d \u201cYou know how, I expect, \u2014 or you are very much belied, \u2014 nobody blames you men.\u201d \u201cBut an unhappy home can never be escaped.\u201d \u201cTrue, but you men can get forgetfulness, and keep out of it as you do.\u201d \u201cWho says I do?\u201d \u201cAh!\u201d \u201cWhat do they say?\u201d \u201cI must not tell you.\u201d \u201cDo.\u201d \u201cWell, that you are very fond of the ladies.\u201d \u201cSo I am.\u201d \u201cI knew it.\u201d \u201cIs there any harm in that?\u201d \u201cYou know what I mean.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cI don\u2019t know, \u2014 do explain.\u201d \u201cYou are a libertine, I expect.\u201d \u201cI should like to hear from your lips exactly what you mean.\u201d She laughed. \u201cI dare say you would, \u2014 but you won\u2019t.\u201d \u201cThen I am left in ignorance.\u201d \u201cVery ignorant, I dare say.\u201d \u201cI like to talk, walk, ride and dance with them, \u2014 I love to embrace them in the waltz.\u201d \u201cI know you do, and if you dance with me again don\u2019t hold me so close.\u201d \u201cI love you to be close to me \u2014 does it offend you?\u201d \u201cNot at all \u2013 but people may talk.\u201d \u201cI should like to be as close to you as man and woman could.\u201d \u201cHush!\u201d \u201cI mean nothing.\u201d \u201cOf course not.\u201d \u201cI like to feel your breath on my face.\u201d \u201cThey say you are a rake.\u201d \u201cWould you be anything else if you were placed like me?\u201d \u201cNo, I would do as you do.\u201d \u201cThen you like my being a rake?\u201d \u201cNo, \u2014 no.\u201d \u201cAre you a rake?\u201d \u201cI would be if I dared.\u201d \u201cDear Mrs. Y***s***e, let us be rakes together.\u201d \u201cOh! naughty.\u201d \u201cYou evidently don\u2019t under-stand me.\u201d \u201cToo well, and I also often feel quite reckless, for I have nothing to care about, no sister, my mother dead, no child, and such a home-life,\u201d \u2014 and tears rose in her eyes. \u201cIt is sad, \u2014 don\u2019t cry, \u2014 I know also what sadness is, and what you must feel, \u2014 I wish you had a child.\u201d \u201cYes, it would make me a home, \u2014 and yet a child of his! ah! I thank God we have none.\u201d This was said with all the abandonment of an unhappy woman. Then she rose suddenly, and bidding me good-bye, left. I had never before, I think, alluded to her husband when conversing with her.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div title=\"Page 664\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I met her at a dinner-party soon afterward, and took her down to table, \u2014 she I suppose was then thirty years old. She had a lovely neck, fine hazel eyes, and dark wavy hair. I pitied her. The conversation took this turn. \u201cHow strange things happen, some have such flocks of children which they don\u2019t want, rich people who want them none.\u201d \u201cPeople without children should change partners,\u201d said I. (This was in the drawing-room after dinner.) \u201cHush!\u201d said she, looking me full in the face. Her own face flushed, she stared at me, her breast gave violent heaves and her mouth slightly opened. I thought I had gone too far, had offended her, and was about to say I hoped I had not done so, when the hostess asked her to play. \u201cTurn over the music-leaves,\u201d said she to me, \u2014 and I did. She sang divinely, looking up at me as she sang; but although I saw she was agitated, I did not notice anything else, nor did I think about anything but what I said.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I knew that involuntarily I had been guilty of a breech of good manners by those words, was mad with my-self, and hoped she would attribute it to wine. Her husband was of the party, but did not come upstairs after dinner. When her carriage was announced I offered to see her to it, but she took the arm of the host, and went off looking at me very kindly. \u201cShe has for-gotten it,\u201d thought I. The husband, who was groggy, was in the hall and went home with her.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Conversation when we met next was about children, but I was unconscious of the tendency of her remarks, nor had I a glimmering of what was in her mind. \u201cYes, children are a bond of union they say.\u201d \u201cHow can they be, if husband and wife are apart in taste, habits, and feeling?\u201d \u201cThey say however bad a husband may be that a woman loves him if he be the father of her child,\u201d I remarked. \u201cI don\u2019t believe it,\u201d she replied, and became quite agitated.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I met her soon after at a ball, I was there alone and her husband was not with her. We danced together, she was a lovely waltzer. \u201cNo baby yet?\u201d whispered I, as I whirled her round in my arms. \u201cNo,\u201d she laughed. \u201cIt\u2019s your fault.\u201d \u201cIt\u2019s not.\u201d \u201cShould you not like a dear little child?\u201d she asked. This was later on at night, she had had champagne, and the excitement of the scene had told on her. The sweet strains of music, the flushed and happy faces of the women, their white breasts and arms, the ankles and limbs ex-posed as they circled round, for dresses were then worn which\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">allowed the calf to be seen as a woman waltzed, had excited me; yet up to that moment I had never had a lascivious thought about her. I could smell her sweet flesh as she waltzed, and was suddenly enervated by desire. \u201cYes,\u201d I whispered, \u201cif you were the mother.\u201d \u201cOh! fie!\u201d \u201cWould not you like one?\u201d \u201cYes, if I liked the father, \u2014 but that cannot be.\u201d I hugged her to me. \u201cLet us try.\u201d She stopped short saying, \u201cI\u2019m tired, \u2014 I\u2019m giddy, \u2014 let me sit down, \u2014 I\u2019m faint.\u201d \u201cCome to the dining-room,\u201d I said. She came. I gave her wine. \u201cLeave me, \u2014 I can\u2019t, \u2014 I\u2019m better, \u2014 leave me.\u201d \u201cBut I must see you back to the ball-room,\u201d I said. \u201cPray leave me, \u2014 I can\u2019t speak with you.\u201d I left her, and soon after she came back to the ball-room by herself.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div title=\"Page 665\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Then she danced with others. When I asked her again to dance, her card was full. \u201cAt least let me take you to supper, or I shall think you are offended. with me.\u201d \u201cVery well.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Until supper I looked at her from various parts of the room. Wherever I happened to be, her eyes met mine. The attraction between the man and the woman was complete, both thought of nothing else but, \u201cYes, if it was by you,\u201d \u2014 \u201cYes, if I liked the father.\u201d It meant fucking. Was she a loose fish, she who was thought so chaste? \u2014 was she in love with me? \u2014 was she like her husband, giving way to drinking? Was I in love with her? All this kept running through my brain, and with it a burning, fresh, yet never thought of till that evening, intense desire to have her. \u201cShe is married, \u2014 never mind, he is a beast, \u2014 it\u2019s adultery, \u2014 never mind, we like each other.\u201d In that form of mind I took her to supper, feeling sure that she liked me, even if she did not love me, \u2014 but until that night no such idea had ever entered my head.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">We talked about different subjects for a minute or two, looking into each other\u2019s eyes as we conversed. The champagne flowed. \u201cDon\u2019t be offended,\u201d I said in a low tone. \u201cWhat is it\u201d \u201cMy love to you.\u201d \u201cBe quiet.\u201d \u201cChange glasses.\u201d \u201cWhy?\u201d \u201cThat my lips may touch the glass which your lips have touched, \u2014 how I long to touch the lips themselves.\u201d \u201cBe quiet pray, \u2014 you will be heard.\u201d The supper went on, the clink of glasses increased, the pop of champagne-corks, the clatter of knives and forks, the pull of crackers, the peals of laughter drowned all slighter sounds. \u201cAn-other glass, and look at me.\u201d She took a glass. Looking into her eyes, \u201cMy love to you, Mamma,\u201d I whispered. \u201cIt\u2019s too bad,\u201d said she turning\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">away. \u201cNot if I was the father.\u201d \u201cFor Heaven\u2019s sake, cease.\u201d \u201cLet me feel your hand \u2014 do pray.\u201d Just then some lady next to us let fall a lump of jelly into her lap, a lovely dress was spoiled. There was a scuffle, and regrets, and laughter, and \u201cNo never mind it,\u201d \u2014 and the flap of the table-cloth was pulled up over the lady\u2019s lap.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div title=\"Page 666\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Though there were table-napkins, I raised the table-cloth also, so as to keep her dress from the chance of food falling, and spoiling it. I pushed my hand which was nearest to hers under the cloth toward hers. They met, and I gave hers a firm but gentle clasp. What a shiver ran through me as I felt her return the squeeze. I drew it toward me, and pressed it against me just where my prick (which had risen rampant) was shut up. She must have known what I was doing, for turning her face toward me with a wild expression, she with-drew her hand. It had pressed against me for an instant only before she drew it away. She declared afterward she had no idea for the moment of what I was doing. She got up hastily. \u201cTake me back to the ball-room,\u201d she said.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Later on we had a wild tearing gallop, all were excited in the room, and I much with wine and desire. I was holding her to me, whirling her about. \u201cLet\u2019s be rakes together, \u2014 we shall have a dear little baby,\u201d I interjected as the rapid dance went on. \u201cOh! fie! \u2014 oh!\u201d she repeated, \u201coh! no now, \u2014 oh! no, \u2014 oh! let me sit down.\u201d I danced on with her. \u201cI can\u2019t bear this,<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">\u2014 I\u2019m getting mad I think, \u2014 you are losing all respect for me, \u2014 for God\u2019s sake, cease.\u201d<\/span><\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The dance was getting over. \u201cGood night, I\u2019m going,<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">\u2014 my carriage is here.\u201d \u201cLet me go with you.\u201d \u201cOh no, not after your talk, besides I am going to take Mr. and Mrs. *** \u201d \u201cBut there\u2019s room for four.\u201d \u201cNo I dare not, \u2014 don\u2019t come down with me, for God\u2019s sake.\u201d Her eyes looked wild, but they beamed on me through their wildness.<\/span><\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The carriage (one of the huge comfortable family-carriages of those days, room in it for four large people and six small ones) drew up. I was determined to go home with her, though she had prayed me not. It was a long drive, and on my way home, \u2014 and she knew it. It rained, and was past two o\u2019clock in the morning. I handed her in. The lady and her husband whom she was going to drop on her road home, were in the hall. In got the lady. \u201cWould you mind giving me a lift,\u201d I said, \u201cfor there\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">is no cab to be had, and alas! my carriage is not here.\u201d The gentleman was at the back of me, but I stood in the doorway barring his entrance to the carriage. It was impossible to refuse me without rudeness before the other lady. \u201cI shall have great pleasure,\u201d said she in an agitated manner. In I got, the gentleman followed, \u2014 had I let him in first he would have sat opposite to her, not I. Off we drove.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div title=\"Page 667\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I was now burning with lust for her, and felt a conviction that she was equally filled with desire for me. For a few minutes I behaved myself, but getting hotter and hotter became at last quite reckless. First I pressed my leg against hers, she moved them away. I followed them till she could move them no further, and still kept pressing my leg against her. I wore pumps and silk stockings, and slipping one foot out of my shoe, and pushing it under her petticoats, rubbed it up against her calf. We were all talking with excitement, she more than any of us, as if she wished to divert attention from what I was doing. \u201cWhat a lovely ball, \u2014 I never enjoyed myself so much, \u2014 did you?\u201d \u201cNo, nor I.\u201d So we all talked and laughed. It was pitch dark, but as we passed the gas-lamps I could see an almost painful excitement on her face. Up went my foot till I touched the under side of her thigh by her knees. She gave a suppressed shriek.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d said her friend. \u201cOh! I\u2019ve got the cramp.\u201d \u201cAh! you have got your satin shoe wet getting into the carriage,\u201d said her friend. \u201cNo I\u2019ve not.\u201d I had taken away my foot at her cry, but soon impelled by lust again raised it up her clothes. Again she started. \u201cCramp again? \u2014 let me pull your shoe off.\u201d \u201cOh! no.\u201d The couple were near home. \u201cHad you not better take a coach, we are near the last coach-stand,\u201d said Mrs. Y***s***e, \u201cit\u2019s more than a mile from our house to yours.\u201d This before her friends. I could not say no, but with anger in my heart said yes, and thanked her for the lift she had given me home-ward. She pulled the check-string, the carriage stopped, I told the footman what to do. Oh! joy there was no coach on the stand. \u201cNever mind,\u201d I said, \u201cwhen you are home, perhaps you won\u2019t mind your man driving me back, it is only a mile, \u2014 how good of you to let me ride so far with you.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Soon after her friends were set down, and we were alone.\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">There was not more than ten minutes\u2019 drive before me. I knew that well. Though only in the suburbs, we were past gas-lamps. Occasional oil- lamps gave a feeble light. It had now become a slightly foggy night. In a\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">delirium of desire, no sooner was the footman on the box than I placed myself beside her. She was trembling with expectation of what was to come. I hugged her waist and hips, and thrust my hand up her clothes. \u201cNow don\u2019t forget yourself, or me, \u2014 for God\u2019s sake. \u2014 what have I done! \u2014 what have I said! \u2014 it serves me right, \u2014 now pray, \u2014 if you are a gentleman you won\u2019t, \u2014 oh! now \u2014 don\u2019t forget your honour, or mine, \u2014 I won\u2019t consent, \u2014 no never, \u2014 never, \u2014 oh! this is indecent, \u2014 for God\u2019s sake don\u2019t now, \u2014 you sh-a-n-\u2018t, \u2014 I\u2019ll pull the check-string.\u201d<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div title=\"Page 668\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cKiss me my darling, we are both unhappy, \u2014 it is no fault of ours, \u2014 let me now, \u2014 we love each other, \u2014 let us, \u2014 how smooth your flesh is, \u2014 oh! God let me feel your cunt, \u2014 open your thighs, \u2014 let me fuck you, \u2014 I will, \u2014 I swear I will.\u201d \u201cWhat language, \u2014 I won\u2019t, \u2014 no, \u2014 no, \u2014 no, \u2014 I say, \u2014 you are taking a shameful advantage of me, \u2014 oh! if the footman should look down, \u2014 oh! don\u2019t \u2014 o \u2014 ho! \u2014 o \u2014 ho!\u201d She thrilled under my titillation of her cunt, her breath came short, her head sunk on my shoulder, and she was speechless. Then her thighs opened quite wide, my lust and passion had entered her, conquered her, she was helpless, defenceless, and abandoned herself to me. Furious to have her at once, I said no more, nor she.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I pulled out my prick, and put her hand to it, \u2014 there she left it. A strange idea passed through my brain. \u201cWhat if I fuck her, and she gets with child!\u201d This whilst I moved her off my shoulder, and leant her back in the corner of the carriage. Rapidly I freed my prick and testicles from my trousers, and dropped down on my knees between the carriage-seats, threw up her clothes, and kissed her thighs and cunt. The perfume overwhelmed me. I felt its moisture. But she was too far back on the seat for my prick to reach her. Then Heaven knows how I managed it, but I did. Kissing her cunt, I slid both hands round her bum, and pulled her forward. She let me do it all without a struggle, without a word. Her cunt was soon at the edge of the seat, her thighs wide open. I pushed my prick to-ward it, and touched it. It was so stiff, I could not bend it, to get it up her. It slipped away as the carriage jolted, and knocked against my own belly. Then I half raised myself, how I can\u2019t describe, I don\u2019t know, but I was leaning partly over her, and raising one of her thighs whilst I guided my prick right up her lovely orifice, to have it jolted out the next instant by the roll of the carriage. Again I put it in, again it came nearly out, I holding one thigh, my other hand resting on the seat, and half\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">supporting me, my legs cramped, and both of us in such a position as to make fucking as difficult as possible, indeed almost impossible.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div title=\"Page 669\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">But a prick will get itself into a willing cunt, be the difficulty ever so great. Somehow I got her more for-ward, myself at a better slope. I felt her clitoris, and pressing down my prick so as to move under my fingers, it slid toward her bum-furrow, then back, then forward again as the carriage moved. She let me do what I liked, but did nothing to help me. She was a lifeless log, thighs wide apart, cunt gaping and reeking with the sweat of the dance and lewdness; her passions fully roused, faint with desire, bashfulness, and fear, she yielded herself up, but did not help. At length my prick with one thrust went full up her cunt, I clasped her somewhere like a vice to keep our genitals joined, the movement of the carriage did nearly the rest. It was a rapid wriggle, my only fear that my prick would be dislodged again. \u201cOh! God I\u2019m spending my d \u2014 ar \u2014 h \u2014 ling.\u201d My prick moved vigorously up and down her cunt, she gave one loud pro-longed cry, half sigh of pleasure, and with a grip of her cunt, and a heave of her haunches, I knew she had spent with me \u2014 and just then an infernal jolt of the coach dislodged my prick almost before I had quite finished spending.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cYou\u2019ve spent my darling, \u2014 I\u2019ve fucked you, \u2014 you are delicious, \u2014 haven\u2019t you spent!\u201d I sat by her side holding my reeking prick, feeling her gluey, sperm-slabbered cunt, and pushed my mouth against hers, my tongue into it. Oh! the exquisite delight of those few minutes. My brain had whirled from the moment her friends had left us alone; it whirled still with subdued delight now that I had had her. I could not forget it, and for a minute went on talking.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I pulled down her clothes, she did not attempt to do so herself. \u201cMy darling why did you not help me?\u201d No reply. \u201cYou\u2019ll forgive me, won\u2019t you, \u2014 I love you so, \u2014 I could not help it.\u201d Not a word. She lay with her eyes closed back in the carriage, breathing hard, violently, but speechless, exhausted by excitement, fear, and a medley of sensations which deprived her of movement or utterance.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cWe are just home, \u2014 for God\u2019s sake rouse yourself.\u201d With a start she pulled a lace shawl over her head, but made no reply. The carriage stopped, I got out, and saw her to the door. \u201cCan I offer you anything?\u201d said she. \u201cNo thank you, \u2014 may your man drive me home?\u201d \u201cCertainly.\u201d\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">\u201cGood night.\u201d \u201cIs Mr. Y**s-* * *e at home?\u201d \u201cYes Ma\u2019am, and abed,\u201d said the footman. Off I went desiring politely to be remembered to Mr. Y***s***e, not forgetting the habits of a gentleman, nor she those of a lady, for she desired her compliments to my wife, and to say she was so sorry she had not seen her at the ball.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div title=\"Page 670\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The footman closed the door. I had folded the cloak I then wore over my trousers, which in the hurry were not properly closed. I buttoned them up in the carriage as I was driven home.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">That night she slept by herself, her husband had been lifted into bed too drunk to undress himself. He had not fucked her for three months, and had had the clap in the interim; \u2014 is it to be wondered that she succumbed to me! I knew this afterward from her.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/section><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/article><\/main><\/div><\/div><\/div><footer style=\"box-sizing: inherit; background-image: linear-gradient(to right, #191919, #191919), url('https:\/\/darklanternentertainment.b-cdn.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/05\/1.My-Earliest-Recollections-of-Things-Sexual.jpg'); background-repeat: repeat; background-position: center center; background-size: auto; background-attachment: scroll;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit; width: 1083px; background-image: linear-gradient(to right, #eeeeee, #eeeeee), url('https:\/\/darklanternentertainment.b-cdn.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/05\/1.My-Earliest-Recollections-of-Things-Sexual-1.jpg'); background-repeat: repeat; background-position: center center; background-size: auto; background-attachment: scroll; min-height: 60px; color: #222222; font-family: Sancreek, sans-serif;\" data-section=\"section-above-footer-builder\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit; grid-template-columns: repeat(2, 1fr); align-items: flex-start; max-width: 1200px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit; align-items: flex-start;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit; width: 516.5px;\" data-section=\"section-footer-menu\">\u00a0<\/div><\/div><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit; align-items: flex-start;\">\u00a0<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit; width: 1083px; background-image: linear-gradient(to right, #191919, #191919), url('https:\/\/darklanternentertainment.b-cdn.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/05\/1.My-Earliest-Recollections-of-Things-Sexual-1.jpg'); background-repeat: repeat; background-position: center center; background-size: auto; background-attachment: scroll; color: #222222; font-family: Sancreek, sans-serif; background-color: #ffffff;\" data-section=\"section-primary-footer-builder\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit; width: 1083px; margin-bottom: 10px;\" data-section=\"section-fb-html-1\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit;\"><div style=\"box-sizing: inherit; text-align: center; color: #d3d3d3;\">\u00a0<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/footer>\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 4 CHAPTER 4 Mrs. Y***s***e. \u2022 A neglectful husband. \u2022 Domestic unhappiness. \u2022 At a ball. \u2022 Longings for maternity. \u2022 The wish expressed. At supper. \u2022 Hands under the table-cloth. \u2022 On the road home. \u2022 The family carriage. \u2022 Premonitory touches. \u2022 No coach on the stand. \u2022 The attempt. \u2022 On &hellip;<\/p>\n<p class=\"read-more\"> <a class=\"\" href=\"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1484\"> <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Volume Four Chapter Four<\/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-1484","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1484"}],"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=1484"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1484\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2322,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1484\/revisions\/2322"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1484"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}