{"id":1708,"date":"2022-08-28T17:38:11","date_gmt":"2022-08-28T17:38:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1708"},"modified":"2022-09-26T18:31:16","modified_gmt":"2022-09-26T18:31:16","slug":"volume-seven-chapter-thirteen","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1708","title":{"rendered":"Volume Seven Chapter Thirteen"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t<div data-elementor-type=\"wp-page\" data-elementor-id=\"1708\" class=\"elementor elementor-1708\" 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-966c05b elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"966c05b\" 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-875fad8\" data-id=\"875fad8\" 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-ea4a444 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"ea4a444\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"html.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t<iframe style=\"border-radius:12px\" src=\"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/embed\/album\/6yjlpYp5t1YL9lSJ5pE6aK?utm_source=generator\" width=\"100%\" height=\"380\" frameBorder=\"0\" allowfullscreen=\"\" allow=\"autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture\" loading=\"lazy\"><\/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-497814b\" data-id=\"497814b\" 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-04d92ce elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"04d92ce\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"html.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t<iframe style=\"border-radius:12px\" src=\"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/embed\/album\/4MKMTzyuQSzfMDnhD2pYTX?utm_source=generator\" width=\"100%\" height=\"380\" frameBorder=\"0\" allowfullscreen=\"\" allow=\"autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture\" loading=\"lazy\"><\/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-e2d9785 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"e2d9785\" 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-477f23a\" data-id=\"477f23a\" 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-0546e34 elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"0546e34\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"text-editor.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 1438\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 18.000000pt; font-family: 'Arial'; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(34.900000%, 34.900000%, 34.900000%);\">Volume 7 C<\/span><span style=\"font-family: Arial; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(89, 89, 89); font-size: 20px;\">hapter&nbsp;<\/span><span style=\"font-size: 18.000000pt; font-family: 'Arial'; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(34.900000%, 34.900000%, 34.900000%);\">13 <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia'; font-weight: bold;\">The Christmas cattle show. \u2022 Mrs. Winifred P* * * *e. \u2022 Recognition. \u2022 Assignation. \u2022 A conversation in a cab. \u2022 Talking and groping at a brothel. \u2022 Both on heat. \u2022 Winifred&#8217;s marriage night. \u2022 The utility of the monthlies. \u2022 The husband humbugged. \u2022 An explicit account of marital habits. \u2022 Her husband&#8217;s tool and toolings. \u2022 A gamahuche. \u2022 A lick of a prick. \u2022 Our last meeting. \u2022 Fifteen minutes&#8217; hard ramming. \u2022 We part for ever. \u2022 About my remaining manuscript. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">The deaf maiden occupied me about two months, and whilst Sarah disposed of her, a bit of luck befell me, which kept me from Sarah longer than I intended. Just then also I was not very free. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">I went to the Christmas cattle show, saw a fine looking young woman stare with a surprised look at me, and recognized Winifred. She turned away her head, and laid hold of the arm of a man beside her, who looked like a middle-aged, country, well-to-do trades-man. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">I could not keep my eyes from her, cared no more about the cattle, but followed the couple for half an hour at a short distance from them; with curiosity reflecting on what I had been to the lady, and she to me, till my prick stiffened. Every phase of our liaison passed through my mind as I followed the couple, and the reminiscence was delightful. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Soon I noticed her looking stealthily over the shoulder of the man. Her eyes met mine, and she very slightly shook her head. I got closer to them. \u2014 On they went, staring hard at the cattle and speaking at times, the man knowing as little of what was going on between me and the woman, as one of the bullocks. \u2014 Again her eyes met mine. She was fascinated and at length smiled. I followed on, thinking of her increased height and improved looks, and wondered how the little downy browny-edged cunt looked now after years of growth on it; for it was four years that Christmas since I had seen it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">A strong desire to see it again sprang up in me. I wondered who and what the man was, and if she&#8217;d had a male piercer up her since she&#8217;d had mine.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 1439\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">I followed watching them for half an hour. All at once he left her and entered the water closet enclosure. She remained, for a second or two, standing still, seemingly looking at the cattle. Then her head turned to see if he was visible, and to see for me. In a second I stood by her side. &#8220;For God&#8217;s sake take care. It&#8217;s my husband, he won&#8217;t be gone a minute.&#8221; &#8220;Meet me.&#8221; &#8220;I can&#8217;t, I dare not \u2014 go now.&#8221; \u2014 &#8220;Where do you live?&#8221; &#8220;We are only here for a week, we are at * * * *,&#8221; and she told an hotel near a railway station and what her name was. \u2014 &#8220;You must meet me, and I&#8217;ll be outside the hotel at eight o&#8217;clock tonight.&#8221; &#8220;No, he&#8217;ll be at home then, perhaps he won&#8217;t at six.&#8221; &#8220;At six then,&#8221; \u2014 and repeating the address and name to myself so as to make no error, I moved away and wrote it down on one of my cards, finishing just as the man reappeared. In half an hour still watching them I saw them leave the building. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Then I thought I wouldn&#8217;t go to see her, for she might have told me the wrong address and name, yet her eyes looked, as I fancied, full of desire for me. \u2014 Was it fancy \u2014 was it conceit on my part? \u2014 If she&#8217;s married it&#8217;s a shame. \u2014 Adultery again! \u2014 What awful temptations come to me \u2014 I won&#8217;t go \u2014 I wonder how her dear pretty cunt looks. How large her bum now is \u2014 how like her mother she is. \u2014 Thus ran my thoughts, and after resolving that I would not go to meet her \u2014 I went. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">The hotel was a small but perfectly respectable one, not far from a railway terminus. Punctually she came out. \u2014 Following me well away from it, we stopped. &#8220;I&#8217;m so frightened, my husband might come along, what would he say if he caught me talking with you?&#8221; &#8220;Get into a cab with me.&#8221; &#8220;Oh, I dare not.&#8221; \u2014 She kept looking up and down the street in a nervous state. &#8220;What do you want?&#8221; &#8220;My love, how can you ask. A chat about old times. Come.&#8221; &#8220;I&#8217;m married, really I am, and am so frightened.&#8221; \u2014 There was no time to lose. With a little persuasion she followed me at a distance, and got into a four wheeler. \u2014 Ah! those blessed wheeled baudy houses. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">For a minute it was nothing but kissing \u2014 long long kiss, given and taken. Then volubly she began an ac-count of herself. One of my hands was round her waist, the other in a second was on her cunt. \u2014 &#8220;Don&#8217;t now \u2014 you must not. \u2014 I&#8217;ll get out else.&#8221; What a charming scuffle! \u2014 &#8220;Nonsense, Winny love, haven&#8217;t I licked it and fucked it?&#8221; \u2014 Again we kissed, I told my love, in two minutes she was feeling my stiff prick, my&nbsp;<\/span><span style=\"color: var(--ast-global-color-3); font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14pt; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">fingers were buried between her warm cunt lips, our mouths were together, and tongues meeting. &#8220;What a lot of hair&#8217;s on your cunt, love, now \u2014 how your clitoris has grown \u2014 how fat your thighs are; my darling let us fuck \u2014 get up, and sit on me. I&#8217;m dying to spend in you again.&#8221; \u2014 Kiss, kiss. \u2014 &#8220;No that I won&#8217;t.&#8221; &#8220;Do \u2014 turn your bum round and sit on me, you know you once did it that way on a chair.&#8221; \u2014 All was useless \u2014 &#8220;I shall spend in your hand then.&#8221; She left off feeling my prick at once. \u2014 &#8220;You shan&#8217;t do that.&#8221; \u2014 I coaxed, but all was of no use. \u2014 &#8220;If I do want it, I won&#8217;t let you now.&#8221; &#8220;Meet me tomorrow.&#8221; &#8220;I&#8217;m frightened.&#8221; \u2014 She couldn&#8217;t do this or that, but at last arranged to meet me. \u2014 &#8220;You want fucking I know, Winny.&#8221; &#8220;I&#8217;m not going to let you do it tho,&#8221; were her last words, as she got out of the cab and walked away.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 1440\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\">\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">At eleven o&#8217;clock the next morning, there was Winifred with a veil on, at the back of L**c**t*r Square, my favorite place of assignation. \u2014 Ten minutes after, we were in the A**a in the room with the glasses, where Sarah and I had our baudy gambols. For five minutes we did nothing but kiss, but she&#8217;d come for fucking, and had no hesitation about it. To my annoyance there was no fire, and it was a cold foggy day. The woman would light one. \u2014 &#8220;But there&#8217;s a good fire in the room up stairs.&#8221; \u2014 Quickly up we went. &#8220;Take off your things love I&#8217;m dying to see your lovely form, \u2014 to kiss that dear quim.&#8221; \u2014 In five minutes we were in bed, my prick up her, in three minutes after with kisses and sighs, with tongues joined, my spunk was gushing up her cunt, and we were spending together in ecstasy. Laying in her arms, prick wallowing in the mucosity of her delicious cunt, she began telling me about her-self, as soon as our silent pleasure was over. \u2014 Her narrative was told in snatches, interrupted only by our varied amorous endearments. \u2014 &#8220;Go on love.&#8221; \u2014 Then she talked on. \u2014 &#8220;Oh! feel how stiff it still is up you.&#8221; \u2014 &#8220;Oh! yes, but take it out and let me wash, I&#8217;d better.&#8221; \u2014 Kiss \u2014 kiss. \u2014 &#8220;No, go on telling. What did your sister do?&#8221; \u2014 On she talked \u2014 kiss \u2014 kiss. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">&#8220;How smooth your lovely fat bum is Winny.&#8221; &#8220;Oh it&#8217;s running out, it will be on my chemise \u2014 take it out, do.&#8221; My prick was dwindling, bringing out with it my libation. Easing my weight, she hitched up her chemise from under her bum, leaving the sheet recipient of our sexual exudations. \u2014 I turned on my side and covered her moist gap with my hand, delighted in feeling the overflow. She handled voluptuously my&nbsp;<\/span><span style=\"color: var(--ast-global-color-3); font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14pt; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">clammy tool. So we lay close together, cuddling, feeling, soothing yet exciting each other&#8217;s genitals, kissing and tongue sucking, till my prick was erect again. Then our bodies joyously joined each other, and made us one, and we were fucking. Ah that prolonged, delicious, thoughtful exercise, which the second ejaculation requires \u2014 In voluptuous thoughts \u2014 in intense mental pleasure \u2014 in the perfect enjoyment of a woman&#8217;s charms, I think the second fuck is better than the first.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 1441\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\">\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">She slopped and rubbed her cunt dry without hiding the operation \u2014 telling her tale all the time \u2014 I stirred the fire, we drew chairs to it, and sitting close together, feeling, kissing, and every now and then looking at our machines spent a few minutes. Winifred had no sham regrets, fears, scruples, compunctions; we were lovers as of yore. She&#8217;d come for fucking, and forgot every thing else. Soon as we found it would be warmer in bed than by the fire, after at the bedside having looked at her dear, pretty cunt well, into bed we again got, and now both start naked. She&#8217;d never been naked in bed with me before, I think. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">How we cuddled and kissed. \u2014 How our tongues played with each other \u2014 how I felt her from top to toe over and over again. Then as she was pressed for time, I mounted her and rubbed my pendant tool between her cunt lips, and frictionizing her clitoris with its tip, till stiff. Then I plunged it up her, stroking and resting, now thrusting it hard up her till the sperm began to rise, then waiting, and half withdrawing it to stop the pleasure \u2014 talking lasciviously all the time \u2014 then resuming the oscillation of my loins and buttocks, till again with cries of ecstasy we died away in each other&#8217;s arms, and dozed with cunt and prick in loving conjunction. \u2014 With what regret we unjoined our bodies. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">What a lovely creature she had grown. Now with splendidly shaped limbs, largish thighs, fine buttocks, and one of the prettiest of cunts. The fringe around it was thick, crisp, close and darker, tho still of a chest-nut brown, the lips soft and full, the clitoris developed strongly. It had lost its coral hue, and had deepened in colour. How pleased she was to let me see, and do what I liked with it. By the bedside it was cold \u2014 so I pulled the sofa to the fire, and laying her on it there, completed my sweet investigations. \u2014 She hadn&#8217;t the slightest hesitation, seemed proud of yielding, made no ridiculous attempts at decency. \u2014 Decency between&nbsp;<\/span><span style=\"color: var(--ast-global-color-3); font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14pt; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">us, between a man and woman who have fucked each other, is really indecency.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 1442\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\">\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Her face was now much like her handsome mother&#8217;s. Her hair the colour of that on her cunt, but there a shade darker. Her blue eyes had still their sharp expression. They looked softer as we sat feeling each other, yet were sharp even in their lewdest moments, and she got lewed enough, and shivered and kissed me, as she laughed at each baudy word, each amorous trick of my fingers. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">When we left, she agreed to meet me again if she could. They were only going to stay in London a few days, for her husband must get back to business. Winifred was supposed by him to be with an aunt, whilst she was in the baudy house with me, and she went to her aunt&#8217;s directly she left me. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Her life since she left London may be told in a few lines, altho she talked about it incessantly that day, as well as at our next meeting. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">She went with her mother to * * * *. Her father-in-law seemed from her account, to be a rather superior sort of person for his position. Then she went as a shop woman \u2014 but her mother took her away, so that she might better look after her \u2014 Lydia just then disclosed where she was, said she was married, and offered to keep Winifred, who went to her. She stopped there a few months, and went back to her mother, who had found out that Lydia was not married, tho big with child. The pious lodger did however soon marry her. \u2014 Winifred was useful, and her father-in-law now kept her at home, but she was restless and wanted to see the world, but could scarcely get out alone, which so annoyed her, that she said she would go to service again. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">The fact evidently was that her mother saw that Winifred wanted fucking badly (tho she had no idea that a prick had already been up her vulva), and kept a tight hand on her. Just then a tradesman in the town offered marriage. He was more than twenty years older than Winifred, but comfortably off. The mother insisted on her accepting him and they were married. She was now pretty comfortable, he was a good sort of man, and rather jealous, but had never found out the absence of her virginity. \u2014 &#8220;You married him, Winny because you wanted a man.&#8221; &#8220;Perhaps I did a little for that, but I wanted to get away and be my own mistress.&#8221;<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 1443\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Next day I waited for Winifred who never came. I wrote, risking consequences, and the day following she did. The room was warm, and there was a good fire. I had with me sandwiches and champagne as arranged, for our meeting was at one o&#8217;clock (she was an hour behind her time and I&#8217;d given her up), after a snack and a glass, I began undressing, and she without any request did the same rapidly. She enjoyed giving me her nudity. We sat on the sofa, at one time with sandwiches in our hands, whilst with the others we felt both prick and cunt, \u2014 eat and handled our ma-chines at the same time, both lewed to our back bones. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Scarcely had we finished the sandwiches, before I&#8217;d opened her thighs, looked at her cunt, and then recollected what I did to it before I had deflowered her. How rapidly things flash through my brain. \u2014 &#8220;Shall I lick it Winny, do you recollect?&#8221; &#8220;If you like,&#8221; laughing. &#8220;Does your husband do it?&#8221; &#8220;He has never done it yet.&#8221; Next minute, kneeling with my backside to the fire which nearly burnt the skin, with her legs over my arms, my hands under her beautiful smooth buttocks, I was licking her lovely split. How sweet it seemed, how stimulating its odour, as my tongue glided over its surface, how short the amusement. In a minute or two, almost as it seemed before I had begun, her thighs and belly were quivering. I could feel the movement of her buttocks, her cunt jogged so gently up and down against my mouth, and with \u2014 &#8220;Ah \u2014 ar \u2014 A \u2014har \u2014 my love \u2014 A har,&#8221; her pleasure came, and her cunt rolled out its salt moistures. As I rose she lay back on the sofa with eyes closed, and thighs wide open, the pearly essence running out of the red orifice. Five minutes after we were in bed fucking. She&#8217;d taken my prick in her mouth for a momentary embrace before I put it into her cunt. She opened her mouth the instant I suggested it, delighted. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">With passions calmed, with genitals softened and moisted by pleasure, tranquilly side by side in loving proximity, handling each other with the restless but delicious sensation of lewedness semi-appeased, and awaiting the resurrection of my prick and the hardening of her clitoris, one of the most delicious conversations I ever had with a lovely woman, was then mine. \u2014 Winifred was frankness itself, she was always so, it was her nature, just as by nature she was amorous, and inclined to the lascivious preliminaries of sexual conjunction. Had she remained in London alone when her mother left, she would have turned gay from&nbsp;<\/span><span style=\"color: var(--ast-global-color-3); font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14pt; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">sheer love of the male. Her marriage by satisfying her partially, and cooling the heat of her quim \u2014 had as far as I know and believe kept her chaste. &#8211; Intrigues are difficult in country towns, which are easy in the immensity of London. She now showed either her liking for me, or her sexual voracity, for certainly she&#8217;d have taken more fucking than I could have given her; and perhaps it is as well for me, that the time she could remain was too short to test my virility too much.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 1444\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\">\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">In this state of body and of mind, she had a manifest pleasure in telling me all about herself and husband, had no hesitations, no shams. She gave me direct answers to my questions, and expected me to answer with equal frankness, which I certainly did. \u2014 Never did a couple explain their sexual habits and conditions as we did. Her frankness was contagious. [I have never since told a woman as much, or been asked as much.] <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Her husband stroked her not quite every other night. He didn&#8217;t play amorously with her at first, nor even look at her cunt much after the first week of marriage. \u2014 &#8220;I&#8217;m stiff, let&#8217;s have a bit together,&#8221; was all he usually said, then mounted her. Sometimes he did her twice if she hadn&#8217;t spent, but didn&#8217;t like being asked. At times she said she&#8217;d not had pleasure when she had, because she wanted it again. \u2014 He thought that women who wanted much stroking were beasts. \u2014 When he had done her, he turned his rump to her, and fell asleep directly. \u2014 We laughed about her marriage night. She had consulted Lydia, and named a day when her poorliness would be just over, thinking his poking would bring it on again. \u2014 She&#8217;d noticed that at that period if she frigged herself it returned slightly. It did on her marriage night. She described to me with delight how she writhed, and jerked her bum back, and cried out. &#8220;Oh you are hurting me so,&#8221; as he got into her. \u2014 We laughed heartily at it. Poor man had he but known! <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">&#8220;Yes his is as long as yours, and just the same thickness,&#8221; said she in answer to a question, feeling my prick carefully all the time she spoke, as if to make sure she was right. &#8220;But somehow it isn&#8217;t as nice as when you&#8217;re doing it.&#8221; \u2014 Then I put my prick up her. \u2014 &#8220;Ah! I wish you were my husband,&#8221; she sighed out just before she spent. She declared she&#8217;d never had any man but her husband and myself, but had frigged herself pretty often. She&#8217;d never been in the family way by me, \u2014 was so soon after marriage, but miscarried \u2014 her husband didn&#8217;t want children. &#8220;I&nbsp;<\/span><span style=\"color: var(--ast-global-color-3); font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14pt; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">think I&#8217;m in the family way now.&#8221; \u2014 Then with the only bit of hesitation she had shown, &#8220;Well \u2014 yes \u2014 he did it to me last night.&#8221; &#8220;Say fucked you, Winny.&#8221; &#8220;Fucked me,&#8221; said she laughing and pleased to say it.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 1445\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\">\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">I have had many married women. It is against my principles to have them, but fate is invincible. Some have been amorous enough, have rejoiced in my libidinousity, joined with me in salacity, but most have avoided reference to their husbands; and when I have been curious about their husband&#8217;s capabilities and sexual vigour, and the size of his prick \u2014 have always avoided the subject. \u2014 &#8220;Don&#8217;t let us talk of that.&#8221; \u2014 &#8220;Oh, it&#8217;s a shame to ask me.&#8221; \u2014 &#8220;Now I won&#8217;t answer you,&#8221; \u2014 similar replies I have had at first, and only with difficulty got my curiosity satisfied, and some-times not at all. But here was Winifred, delighted to talk about it all. The quiet way she felt me before she told me the size of his prick, I shall recollect to my dying day. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Again we met \u2014 &#8220;I&#8217;m so sorry we&#8217;re going back. &#8211; I&#8217;ve asked him to let me stop with my aunt for a week, but he won&#8217;t.&#8221; &#8220;We could have met every day.&#8221; &#8220;We would,&#8221; said she. \u2014 Such was her liking for me or my prick, that she agreed to meet me again \u2014 &#8220;if possible, \u2014 but I&#8217;m sure I can&#8217;t stay more than a quarter of an hour.&#8221; \u2014 She was ready to run any risk. I had the quarter of an hour. \u2014 Dressed and at the bedside I fucked her. In ten minutes afterwards, &#8220;I wish I could do it again but can&#8217;t.&#8221; She lay expectantly quiet where I had placed her. I frigged an erection, inserted and thrust with energy, but no spunk came. \u2014 &#8220;I&#8217;m coming dear,&#8221; she gasped out and spent; but I didn&#8217;t. Then I got furious, and rammed with violence. I could almost hear the slap of my balls against her backside. \u2014 &#8220;Ah-a \u2014 I&#8217;m coming again dear.&#8221; &#8220;My \u2014 sperm&#8217;s coming too love,&#8221; \u2014 and it spurted up her. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">In haste we washed. I kissed and licked over the surface of her fresh washed cunt, for I felt madly in lust for her. She kissed my prick, we parted, and I have never seen her since. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">It was a most delicious week, a charming interlude in my erotic performances, which are now wholly with professional pleasure-givers. It makes me regret the delights of teaching the art of love, and fucking those who met me for the pleasure of fucking alone, and not for pay. Shall I ever have such chances again?<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 1446\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Much as I have abbreviated and omitted, what a quantity of manuscript still remains. \u2014 Alas! a casual look through it, reveals the fact that, like much of that written just before this period of my history, it is prolix and copious in detail. \u2014 More so even than that preceding it which I shortened with so much trouble. \u2014 It is exuberant, because written for my secret pleasure, and I revelled in the detail as I wrote it, for in doing so I almost had my sexual treats over again. \u2014 It mattered not to me whether similar pleasure had been mine before or not, whether the erotic whims and fancies, amorous frolics, voluptuous eccentricities, were identical or not. \u2014 I described them as they had occurred at the time, and the pleasure of doing so was nearly the same, even had I done them twenty times, and described them twenty times. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">But the woman, the partner in my felicity was frequently fresh and new to me, and I to her; and this newness prevents satiety in sexual frolics. There is always a shade of difference in the manners and behaviour of women in sexual preliminaries, and even in final performance. One woman never kisses or sighs, embraces or fucks, in exactly the same manner as an-other. The broad features from beginning to ending are the same. A coupling of the genitals finishes it all. But there are delicate shades of difference even in fucking which make the variety so charming, and describing them was ever new and amusing to me, when the charmer was new to me. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Yet on glancing through the remaining manuscript, \u2014 now in my mature, if not only years \u2014 the repetition seems a little wearisome. \u2014 What is to be done \u2014 abbreviate or destroy \u2014 which? \u2014 Abbreviation is laborious, and emasculates \u2014 the freshness of the writing is gone \u2014 nice shades lost. \u2014 But destruction saves all future trouble. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Perhaps entire omission of portions will be best, but that will destroy the continuity. In the narrative in its integrity, it is easy to see how in my youth, content with the simplest forms of sexual pleasure, I have gradually with advancing years and experience, been led to strangely erotic whims and devices, and have had the greatest pleasure in acts, and deeds, and thoughts, which in my ignorant youth would have revolted me. \u2014 To omit much is to destroy this continuity of idea and action. \u2014 No. It must be abbreviation or total destruction. Abbreviation, or else a full stop here, and nearly twenty years&#8217; narrative go to the flames.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 1447\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">Another thing \u2014 through the suggestions of women, by pondering over those suggestions \u2014 by reading works of erotic philosophers \u2014 from pictures, curiosity, and opportunity, \u2014 I have once or twice done what I regret, what in fact is almost a remorse to me, tho I really see no harm in it. \u2014 What a contradiction this, but thus it is. \u2014 Shall I destroy those chapters, erase those parts \u2014 or leave them \u2014 perhaps (for who knows) for some to cry shame. \u2014 To omit them is to sacrifice the narrative, and the illustration it affords to myself of my sexual idiosyncrasy \u2014 if such a phrase may be used \u2014 I know not what to do with this antagonism of thought and intention. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">It must remain \u2014 written by myself and for myself, none probably will ever see it but myself \u2014 therefore why cheat myself? \u2014 let it remain. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 14.000000pt; font-family: 'Georgia';\">I wish I had begun this revision earlier, perhaps now I shall never complete it \u2014 or complete it only in time to destroy it, before I myself am destroyed. \u2014 tempus edax rerum.&nbsp;<\/span><\/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 7 Chapter&nbsp;13 The Christmas cattle show. \u2022 Mrs. Winifred P* * * *e. \u2022 Recognition. \u2022 Assignation. \u2022 A conversation in a cab. \u2022 Talking and groping at a brothel. \u2022 Both on heat. \u2022 Winifred&#8217;s marriage night. \u2022 The utility of the monthlies. \u2022 The husband humbugged. \u2022 An explicit account of marital &hellip;<\/p>\n<p class=\"read-more\"> <a class=\"\" href=\"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1708\"> <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Volume Seven Chapter Thirteen<\/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-1708","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1708"}],"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=1708"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1708\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2820,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1708\/revisions\/2820"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1708"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}