{"id":1486,"date":"2022-08-21T17:10:06","date_gmt":"2022-08-21T17:10:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1486"},"modified":"2022-09-13T17:15:55","modified_gmt":"2022-09-13T17:15:55","slug":"volume-four-chapter-five","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1486","title":{"rendered":"Volume Four Chapter Five"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t<div data-elementor-type=\"wp-page\" data-elementor-id=\"1486\" class=\"elementor elementor-1486\" 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-01d6b71 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"01d6b71\" 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-7bda477\" data-id=\"7bda477\" 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-d421c22 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"d421c22\" 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\/56nPXwAX5UqZT61eraUMVU\" 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-b87fb58\" data-id=\"b87fb58\" 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-4730fc5 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"4730fc5\" 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\/5d6C8mxyIwzxsaqiCyCYZM\" 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-d4bbfc8 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"d4bbfc8\" 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-abc98a7\" data-id=\"abc98a7\" 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-f589eb1 elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"f589eb1\" 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=\"color: #561212; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 671\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><b>VOLUME 4 CHAPTER 5<\/b><\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><i>The boudoir next day. \u2022 On the sofa. \u2022 A dull dinner. \u2022 Assignations. \u2022 The linen draper\u2019s shop with two fronts. \u2022 The house in T***f***d Street with two entrances. \u2022 Consummation. \u2022 A chaste-minded adultress. \u2022 The consequences.<\/i><\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I passed a restless night wondering at all that had occurred so unpremeditated, so successful, and yet half a failure at the last moment; for my spend was scarcely finished in her. The next day I called. She was unwell, and could see no one. Had she taken cold? Yes, the servant thought so, she had been ill all night, and could see no one. It was a maid that opened the door who said this, and not a footman. Was Mr. Y***s***e at home? No. I did not desire to disturb her, but I had a pressing message from my wife, and should much like to give it instead of my wife writing it, if she would but see me for a minute only, \u2014 it was a matter of some importance. \u201cMistress has seen no one sir, she has been so ill, \u2014 she has not been long up, \u2014 but I will ask.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I waited in a small morning-room. Half an hour passed, the maid at length appeared, and showed me into the drawing-room. My heart was beating. Mrs. Y***s***e was seated in an easy-chair, the fire was burning with a red heat, dusk was coming on. I offered my hand, she put hers out coldly. \u201cI am ill \u2014 what is the message you have for me?\u201d \u201cNone, you know I have none \u2014 it was only to see you, to beg your pardon, to say I could not control myself.\u201d \u201cThat will do \u2014 not another word about what you have done, I have permitted enough to be done, to let you think you can do what you like here.\u201d I did not know at this cold treatment what to do, what to say to her, and was silent.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cI\u2019m distressing you,\u201d at length I said, \u201cso I had better go.\u201d \u201cYou came to distress me, for you knew you would,\u201d she replied. \u201cI never was cruel to a woman in my life,\u201d I said. \u201cIndeed, \u2014 your wife gives a different version.\u201d \u201cDoes she? \u2014 most likely, \u2014 it\u2019s to her interest to blacken me, \u2014 it saves her own reputation.\u201d \u201cAll you men are the same, \u2014 you might have a happier home if you were truer to your wife.\u201d \u201cIt\u2019s false, she is not fit for a wife, nor could she make any one happy \u2014 I might as well say it\u2019s your fault that Mr. Y***s***e is what he is.\u201d \u201cHe! \u2014 if I were to tell you all I\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">suffer, it would make your hair stand on end.\u201d \u201cAnd I, if I told you all about my home, you would pity me. Listen.\u201d<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div style=\"color: #561212; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 672\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">It was rarely that I told my griefs, but hid them as much as I could. I had told them only to a little gay woman, to one of my servants, and to an old friend\u2019s parlour-maid, and had fucked all three women. I was now piqued, was in love with this lady, fancied she had had as much to do with my erotic darings in the carriage as I had, and could not bear to be thought a liar and traitor at home, and to have behaved ill to any woman. \u201cListen,\u201d I said. \u201cOh! I don\u2019t want to hear.\u201d \u201cBut you must, \u2014 you shall, in justice to me, \u2014 listen.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Then I told her in a few minutes a history in itself. \u201cGood Heavens, you are jesting.\u201d \u201cBy the Eternal God it\u2019s the truth,\u201d \u2014 and I burst out crying. How long we sat I don\u2019t know, but I heard her saying, \u201cI\u2019m truly sorry for you, \u2014 it\u2019s almost incredible.\u201d I went on my knees before her. \u201cKiss me.\u201d \u201cGet up for God\u2019s sake, \u2014 the servant will come in.\u201d \u201cKiss \u2014 kiss me.\u201d \u201cThere, \u2014 there, \u2014 get up,\u201d said she kissing me, \u201cnow leave me, pray.\u201d \u201cWhy I have not been here a quarter of an hour.\u201d \u201cYou must have been here an hour, \u2014 it\u2019s dark. \u2014 I must ring for lights.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cYou are the first woman for years who has kissed me who has not been a harlot,\u201d I said, forgetting the servants, the married women, and others I had had, and a lady about whom I shall print nothing. It was an odd thing to say, was quite useless and untrue, but it burst from my lips suddenly, \u2014 Heaven knows why.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The story I had old her had stirred her sympathies, for she was a woman in the fullness of her blood, in the hey-day of her lusts. She was a pure woman; but those who have tasted the pleasures of coition with a man, \u2014 and she had spent with me, \u2014 cannot resist the desire for them again. Hers however was a want which urges many a woman to sexual complaisance without knowing the cause, although she knew well what she wanted, and was willing to forget herself, to bring about a result to satisfy the want. It was not fucking, but the consequences which most women dread, and try to avoid, when the fucking is illicit. Yes \u2014 she yearned for maternity. All her utterances to me, involuntary, irrepressible as they were, all pointed to it.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div style=\"color: #561212; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 673\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The deed of the previous night, and my present disclosures, had broken all barriers. She had tried at the beginning to fence herself with coldness \u2014 useless. Oh! the mysteries of the cock and the cunt when once the male and female disclose them to each other. No fence, no walls, no bolts, no bars, will keep them asunder. What can a woman refuse a man whose spunk has filled her cunt, from the portals of her womb to her clitoris, as mine had hers. All on a sudden I closed on her, kissed her, and put my hand up her petticoats.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cNow leave off, \u2014 if you attempt to repeat last night, I will leave the room, and deny myself in future when you call.\u201d \u201cNonsense Mary, \u2014 let me call you Mary, \u2014 dear Mary, \u2014 you know what you told me only yesterday night as we danced, \u2014 things have not changed since then, \u2014 let me, \u2014 let me be the father.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cNever, \u2014 a moment\u2019s weakness, \u2014 yes I should like a child, \u2014 in my loneliness and misery, with all our wealth, it might comfort me, \u2014 but not one of disgrace, \u2014 I forgot myself, and now you punish me, \u2014 forget all about it. As a gentleman, as I know you to be, \u2014 you will forget it, and never disclose my weakness, I am sure.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cNonsense, we love each other, \u2014 let me.\u201d \u201cNow don\u2019t, \u2014 leave off, \u2014 not now, \u2014 oh! don\u2019t make that noise, \u2014 be quiet then, \u2014 the footman will be in.\u201d \u201cHe is out, or was when I was downstairs.\u201d She rose up. \u201cLet me feel where I did last night.\u201d \u201cNo, I forgot myself once, but never again, \u2014 go.\u201d \u201cI won\u2019t by God, \u2014 I will have you, \u2014 I feel mad when I think my prick has been in your dear cunt, but never spent in it properly, \u2014 that my sperm has covered it, but was half wasted outside it.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Out of the large double drawing-rooms was her boudoir, a sofa in it. I laid hold of her hands, and pulled her. \u201cCome here.\u201d \u201cOh! don\u2019t make that noise, \u2014 the footman may come here.\u201d \u201cWell, here.\u201d Gently, and kissing her as I went, I pulled that lady into her boudoir and laid her on the sofa. Sighs, kisses, murmurs of my love, and we were spending together on the sofa a minute or two afterward. The doors were unlocked, any one coming in must have caught us; both must have been delirious with love-passion, to have run such risks. Rising quickly after I had spent, she rang for lights. Then was another ring audible.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div style=\"color: #561212; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 674\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cIt\u2019s his ring, \u2014 it\u2019s my husband, \u2014 he\u2019s come home, \u2014 perhaps not drunk for once, \u2014 sit down there, \u2014 no, not so near, \u2014 there, \u2014 oh! my God what has brought him home!\u201d (He rang a minute after she had rung the drawing-room bell.)<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cHow are you old fellow?\u201d said her husband, quite sober, entering the room, and shaking hands with me, \u2014 \u201cwhy I thought (to his wife) you would see no one.\u201d \u201cI felt better when I was up, and Mr.*** has come to say he has a box for Drury Lane for next Friday, and very much wants us to go with him and Mrs. ***, \u2014 I told him to wait a little on chance of your coming home.\u201d \u201cWill you join us?\u201d said I. \u201cYes,\u201d replied he, \u201cyou stop to dinner with us.\u201d I hesitated. \u201cDo.\u201d \u201cI\u2019d rather not.\u201d \u201cWe are all alone, \u2014 why don\u2019t you ask him, Molly?\u201d No reply. \u201cWhy the damned fool has fainted, \u2014 it\u2019s the second time she has done it today, \u2014 what the hell\u2019s the matter with her?\u201d said he.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">[It\u2019s singular what a lot of fainting women I had in my youth, \u2014 those in after years did not faint during our intrigues.]<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">To ring, get sal volatile, spirits, was the work of a minute. She had recovered before they came. Mr Y***- s***e poured himself out three quarters of a tumbler of brandy, and putting a little water to it, swallowed it. \u201cDon\u2019t drink all that,\u201d said she. \u201cMind your own business,\u201d said he. I rose to go. \u201cI want him to stay to dinner, Molly.\u201d \u201cWon\u2019t you stay?\u201d \u201cI\u2019d rather not.\u201d \u201cStay, \u2014 nonsense,\u201d said he, \u2014 \u201cShe\u2019ll be as dull as stale beer tonight, \u2014 if you don\u2019t stay, come to my club, and we\u2019ll dine there.\u201d \u201cPray stay,\u201d said she. My seed was up her, that was an attraction, and though kindness would have said go, \u2014 I stayed. She left the room. Mr. Y***s***e drank more brandy and water; at dinner he was three sheets in the wind, no one was there but us three. \u201cWho knows if chance may not give her to me again tonight!\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">It was the most extraordinary evening in point of strained sensation I ever spent. Shown into a bed-room to wash before dinner, I would not wash the hand which had fingered her cunt; out of a superstition that if I kept it unwashed I should have her again that night. I had never been at a family-dinner with them before. My sense of delicacy as a gentleman ought to have made me refuse her husband\u2019s invitation, seeing that she was distressed, and had not willingly joined with him in asking me. At table he was boisterous and jolly at first, then heavy and stupid as the\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">wine told on him; she dull and distressed, though trying hard to hide her being so. \u201cYou are as dull as ditch-water, \u2014 you are as cheerful as small beer drawn yesterday,\u201d he kept saying at intervals to her. I had been trying to engage her in conversation all the evening, but it flagged, al- though she drank wine freely. Gradually all the talking fell to him, and as he was listened to, he seemed contented. I felt more inclined to think, than to talk; at all events to him, for my mind dwelt on the changes twenty-four hours had made in our relations to each other. The night before I had seen her come in to the ball-room upright, radiant, fresh- coloured, sparkling, proud in step, composed in demeanour; and I had not a vestige of a thought of having her. I had even thought her cold, and should have said without any sensuality. There she sat now. My hands had wandered over her soft flesh, from her knees to her navel, I had titillated her clitoris, spent in her. She was pale in face, dark rings were round her eyes, she seemed half lifeless, it was painful to see her. Whenever I turned my eyes toward her, I found her fixed on me with a strained expression in them, as if she were hearing some frightful tale. (I shall never forget the expression in them.) Her voice quivered, she answered slowly. I kept thinking of my fuck on the sofa, and all the occurrences. The more I thought, the more impossible it seemed to me that all could so have come about, \u2014 it seemed a dream.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div style=\"color: #561212; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 675\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">When she left us, her husband took brandy and water and cigars and got more fuddled. \u201cTea is in the drawing-room sir,\u201d said the flunkey. I rose to go. \u201cWait another quarter of an hour,\u201d said Mr. Y***s***e. I waited. \u201cLet us go, Mrs. Y***s***e will think me rude.\u201d \u201cShe be damned, \u2014 you go, \u2014 I\u2019ll stop, and have another glass, and another cigar.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">In the drawing-room she poured out my tea with perfect grace. \u201cIs not my husband coming?\u201d \u201cSoon,\u201d I said. Time ran on, she rang the bell. \u201cTell your master the tea will be cold.\u201d Footman came back. \u201cHe has gone to bed Ma\u2019am.\u201d \u201cTo bed?\u201d \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cExcuse me,\u201d she said, and left the room. In a few minutes she came back. \u201cIs he unwell?\u201d said I in all ignorance. She looked at me, to see if I was humbugging her by my question. \u201cNo, drunk, \u2014 that is my life,\u201d \u2014 and she buried her face in her hands.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I went close to her, my lust got the better of me, and I attempted to feel her leg. She rose from her chair. \u201cAre you a brute also? \u2014 then I am\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">deceived indeed, \u2014 no don\u2019t touch me, be content, \u2014 would you break my heart quite? \u2014 it is well nigh broken, \u2014 if you touch me, I will never see you again.\u201d I was awed. She moved her chair away from me, and I did not approach nearer to her.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div style=\"color: #561212; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 676\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">We talked a short time. \u201cYou will meet me, won\u2019t you? \u2014 our friendship has only begun, \u2014 both unfortunate, \u2014 why deny ourselves the pleasure our society gives us?\u201d She made no reply for a long time, seemed to be struggling with herself, and buried her face in her hands.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cWhere \u2014 how?\u201d she said at last. \u201cMeet me somewhere where we can talk undisturbed.\u201d \u201cWhere? \u2014 how? \u2014 so that I may not be known?\u201d The brain of a man works wiles to get a woman, and I thought of a move new to me, perhaps old enough to others; with me it was an instantaneous thought.<i><span style=\"font-weight: bold;\">\u00a0There were and now are three large linen drapers in London, with corner-buildings, and two frontages<\/span><\/i>. \u201cCall at So and-So,\u201d I said, \u201cstop at the *** street-side \u2014 make a purchase, \u2014 send your carriage away, \u2014 go right through the shop to the other street, there I will await you tomorrow.\u201d \u201cNo.\u201d \u201cWhen\u201d \u201cThe next day at three.\u201d \u201cYou won\u2019t deceive me?\u201d \u201cI have begun, and I\u2019ll go through it,\u201d said she with a hard look. \u201cOne kiss.\u201d \u201cHish! the servants are all about.\u201d I kissed her, and left.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The day came. A bitterly cold and rather foggy day, an admirable one for our assignation. I had called at a house in T***f***d Street, well known in those days to swells. I had never been at it before, but had asked a middle-aged friend if he knew a good house, for I did not like taking her to J***s Street. He was a married man with a great liking for intrigue. \u201cYou are going to have a married woman,\u201d said he (it was an odd shot, but a true one.) \u201cNo.\u201d He winked. \u201cThe quietest house in London is So- and-So \u2014 there is a back and a front entrance, one in one street, one in another street.\u201d I went there, hired the nicest room, ordered a fire, and clean sheets and paid part in advance.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I waited at the corner looking out for the carriage. No carriage came. A lady got out of a cab, paid and it drove off. \u201cIs it she?\u201d She stood still, looked at me through a thick veil, then went into the shop. I had recognised her, and went round the corner; my cab of course was there. A quarter of an hour which seemed an age elapsed. \u201cIs she never coming?\u201d Then she appeared with a paper parcel in her hand. In a\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">minute she was in the cab; in five minutes at T***f***d Street, and in a large, comfortable, but somewhat dull bed-room.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div style=\"color: #561212; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 677\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She took off her bonnet and veil, she was trembling. \u201cIs this an hotel?\u201d \u201cNo my darling.\u201d \u201cIs it a brothel?\u201d \u201cIt\u2019s a house where they are not particular.\u201d \u201cIt is a brothel.\u201d I did not know what to say, so held my tongue.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She buried her face in her hand, and sat so for a minute. \u201cYou have not kissed me darling.\u201d She kissed me, got up, and looked at me fixedly. \u201cTake off your things, \u2014 let me help you.\u201d She hurried, was quite silent, and soon was in her chemise, but with boots and stockings on. She undressed mechanic-ally, as if she were thinking of something else. \u201cOh! let me look at you \u2014 let me lift your chemise.\u201d She resisted. \u201cNo, for Heaven\u2019s sake, leave me alone.\u201d I complied. \u201cLet me draw off your boots and stockings.\u201d The next minute we were in bed, and I was up her; getting into the bed with a bound, and mounting her with fury. She had not laid down before I was pressing her. She laid down on her side with her face toward me, but my body met hers, and turned her on to her back. \u201cWait a minute, \u2014 let us talk,\u201d she began. \u201cOho!\u201d she sobbed as with a fierce plunge my prick drove her. The next minute her cunt was deluged.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I was not man enough, or she not appetising to me enough to make me continue without withdrawing (as I often did with a fresh piece). I uncunted, and began the delights of feeling her all over. That exquisite variety of sensations were mine, which run through a man as he feels a woman in all her nakedness. For the first time, can kiss her mouth, suck her bubbies, rove from her neck to her knees, smooth his lips over her breasts, plunge his fingers up her cunt till they can grope no further. Soon I was in full vigour again, and up her, and then Mary Y***s***e met me with ardour and in that very fuck was impregnated. She had never spoken from the time she had got into bed, till her pleasure came on. Then she sobbed out, \u201cOh! my love!\u201d \u2014 and she was quiet again. She often repeated the words when spending afterwards. That came naturally from her, as my prick stiffened to its utmost in her cunt, and she drew my sperm out of me. She never said any other words when fucking.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">In less than an hour I fucked her again. I could scarcely get her to talk. After each poke she wanted to know the time, and when satisfied lay\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">nestling close to me. \u201cYou\u2019re with child,\u201d I remarked jokingly. \u201cI hope so.\u201d I could not realise that she really meant it. \u201cDon\u2019t you wash?\u201d \u201cNo, I\u2019ll do nothing to destroy the chance.\u201d \u201cChance of what?\u201d \u201cOf having a child.\u201d \u201cDo you really mean it?\u201d \u201cWhat do you think I have come here for, if I don\u2019t mean it? \u2014 do you think I run this risk for lust? \u2014 to have degraded myself in your eyes for mere lust! \u2014 you are in error of you imagine that.\u201d \u201cMy darling I am thinking of nothing but the delight I have in meeting you, in finding a friend and lover in you.\u201d \u201cI am not your lover, and never shall be, though I have been dreaming of such an after- noon with you for two years past.\u201d \u201cOf me?\u201d \u201cYes, thinking I should like a child by you.\u201d \u201cWhy me?\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t know, \u2014 who can tell why one likes and dislikes,\u201d \u2014 and then she explained.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div style=\"color: #561212; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 678\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cWhen grief was upon me I longed to be a mother, and thought of you. Gradually I came to desire that you should be the father, and for that I have degraded myself, \u2014 yet I swear that this has come about as if by magic, for I never contemplated having a child by you, much as I desired it. But from the moment you took my hand under the table-cloth at the supper, I lost all control of myself. In the carriage I was helpless as a child, was in a sort of swoon, though I knew quite well what you were about, and that it was wrong, I tried to resist you in my mind, but could not stir a limb. It was the same the day before yesterday. I knew you had sent up a falsehood, but felt I must see you, and from the moment you pulled me toward my boudoir, had the same enervation.\u201d This was said nearly as I write it, not as an apology, but as a narrative told in the most natural way possible, and in a sorrowful tone.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cDid you spend with me in the boudoir?\u201d \u201cYes. I felt agitated, alarmed, and almost fainting.\u201d \u201cDid you wash yourself, \u2014 do tell me, \u2014 do?\u201d I anticipated coyness and evasion, but I did not know the woman yet, her frankness and determination. \u201cNo I did not, \u2014 I thought of doing so, but from a feeling I can\u2019t de-scribe I would not, and I came down to dinner just as you left me.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cDo you not love me? \u2014 you could not have thought so of me without it.\u201d I asked her this for I was staggered, and thought spite of all, that she might be only a frisky one, to whom a fuck on the sly was a treat. I was too inexperienced to know the varieties of the female mind, the vagaries\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">that an unsatisfied womb might cause, the overwhelming passion that a womb hungering for impregnation might beget.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div style=\"color: #561212; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 679\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cI do not love you, \u2014 I shall never be a mistress to you, and from the time I am sure that I shall have a child, you will see no more of me in the way you see me now, and perhaps not at all.\u201d \u201cI believe you are with child at this moment,\u201d I said joking. \u201cI firmly believe that I became so an hour ago. \u2014 I must leave, \u2014 how can I enter my door with the feeling I have hitherto done? \u2014 ah! mine has been a bitter married life!\u201d \u201cAnd mine my darling also.\u201d \u201cBut you men get relief, get even fresh loves, and people overlook it, \u2014 women they crush for less.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She dressed. \u201cYou have not washed yourself,\u201d I said laughing, for I had turned away out of delicacy when I saw her put the basin down. She would not wash at all, not wishing to destroy the good I had done her. Was it for good or harm? \u2014 time was to show. I saw her to a cab, and we parted. Yes she would meet me again \u2014 tomorrow at the theatre we should meet. She had never smiled, nor seemed pleased, nor been voluptuous, she only laid quiet, and let me fuck her as much as I could.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">We met at Drury Lane, for I had of course to get the box. That night Mrs. Y***s***e began to show great attention to my wife, who in return began to hate her, yet I carefully avoided showing Mrs. Y***s***e special attention. Mr. Y. went out regularly between each act to drink. I had opportunity to speak to his wife. \u201cSame time and place tomorrow.\u201d The next afternoon we were in the same bed together again.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">And again we met. She came in her carriage, left it at one door, and passed through the shop to me. We had only time for one hurried poke. Again the next day, but she had not come in her carriage to the linen- draper\u2019s because the coachman was ill. She had a fit of compassion, would not hear of his coming out in the cold, nor of a groom driving. She was frightened. He was not a good whip, so she had a cab. It was a piece of luck, I said. \u201cWell it really is,\u201d she replied. \u201cI hope he will be confined for weeks.\u201d \u201cPoor man, he has a sick wife,\u201d said she. How clever are both man and woman in availing themselves of every chance for getting amorous delights, \u2014the old song of my boyhood is right, \u201ccock and cunt will come together, check them as you may.\u201d<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div style=\"color: #561212; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 680\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">It was an afternoon of hard fucking. She had a tight cunt, \u2014 I told her so. \u201cYou ought to know what is tight and what is not, according to all accounts,\u201d she said. I had heard similar hints from others within the year before that, and wondered how it came about.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Another and another meeting. She was always quiet, reserved, dignified, even when she pissed, but now was yielding, and taking more her share in dalliance. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you put your hand down, and feel my prick?\u201d Her hand went gently down, and then it became like mine, inquisitive, and moved under my balls and all about, much more so than the hands of the women did whom I had recently been accustomed to. Satisfying her curiosity stirred her blood, and there was more passion in embrace. Still I felt that I more served a purpose she was determined on carrying out, than that she had pleasure in meeting me for copulation. My vanity was excessive on her declaration that she wished a child by me, but was chilled when she said that so soon as she got one, she would not care about me; and that my embraces were nothing to her, unless they fecundated her egg; that her joy in my arms was only physical, and that when the sperm was laying up against her womb-mouth, she cared nothing for the man from whose prick it had issued. Many as were the cunts I had spermatised, I was too young to have studied their owners philosophically or psychologically, as I since have done.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Gradually she became more free. She had refused my inspection of her, and on any liberty she did not like she mentioned her degradation. \u201cI suppose you think me little better than a prostitute,\u201d said she to me one day,\u201d \u201cand I deserve it.\u201d She was so sensitive about her own sin, as she called it, that when she referred to it I was settled at once, and relinquished my wishes. I had never seen her quite naked even after several meetings, and got wild. \u201cLet me see.\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t like it.\u201d \u201cWell my darling you shan\u2019t be annoyed but I have never kissed it, \u2014 I will.\u201d I ducked down in the bed kissing her breasts, then her belly, and at last lodged my head between her thighs. The smell of her cunt was delicious to me, I opened the lips, I kissed the moist parts. \u201cI\u2019ll lay here all the time,\u201d I said, but I never licked her, for I had no taste for gamahuching her. \u201cYou will be smothered unless you come up.\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t care, \u2014 let me see.\u201d I just caught the darkness of the split, and was glad to rise up, and rub my ballocks against it. She would show me no more, but it stirred her up, \u201cOh my love,\u201d came with more emphasis than ever. I pulled my prick\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">out of her, and stopped her crisis. \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d \u201cI won\u2019t go on unless you let me look at your cunt,\u201d \u2014 and then I did. After-ward I became master, and she no longer refused me.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div style=\"color: #561212; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 681\"><div><div><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The coachman was better. Instead of two or three hours she could only manage an hour, \u2014 half an hour, \u2014 it came to a fuck at the bedside, and a precipitate rush out of the house. We were much vexed. How I hated to see her step out of that big carriage! \u2014 how I longed to see her come muffled up out of a cab!<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">One day she sighed, but smiled. \u201cI am with child,\u201d she said. \u201cAre you glad!\u201d \u201cYes, but I feel sad, and I don\u2019t know why.\u201d This must have been about a month after I had had her. \u201cAre you sure?\u201d \u201cYes, \u2014 and if in another three weeks my poorliness does not come on, it is absolutely certain, \u2014 not but I was certain I should be from the moment we met here, and even before I had you, that you would be the father of a child.\u201d I wanted to see her quite naked. \u201cNo.\u201d \u201cNot to the father of your child? \u2014 ridiculous.\u201d She reflected. \u201cIt is ridiculous, but I cannot bear to be treated like a prostitute.\u201d \u201cNonsense, \u2014 does not every man see his wife naked, and have his pleasure with her in every way?\u201d \u201cDo what you like with me, you have the right now, \u2014 every right over me, \u2014 more right than any one else, \u2014 I believe it to be so in the eyes of God.\u201d<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>VOLUME 4 CHAPTER 5 The boudoir next day. \u2022 On the sofa. \u2022 A dull dinner. \u2022 Assignations. \u2022 The linen draper\u2019s shop with two fronts. \u2022 The house in T***f***d Street with two entrances. \u2022 Consummation. \u2022 A chaste-minded adultress. \u2022 The consequences. I passed a restless night wondering at all that had occurred &hellip;<\/p>\n<p class=\"read-more\"> <a class=\"\" href=\"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1486\"> <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Volume Four Chapter Five<\/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-1486","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1486"}],"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=1486"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1486\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2328,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1486\/revisions\/2328"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1486"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}