My Secret Life

Between the Hall and farm-yard was a shrubbery path; laurels, hollies and evergreens nearly met over head. It joined a belt of walk and plantation which skirted the lawns, gardens and a small paddock, and hid the farm-yard from the house. It took two or three minutes to walk from the farm to the house. The farm-yard on the other side opened on to a lovely village lane running between fields for a mile or so; on one side the land belonged to my aunt, the other to another proprietor. No one scarcely went along it but farm people. At one end were the two cottages in which I had fucked the two sisters years before; lower down past the farm-gates, were one or two other cottages in which lived farm-labourers, and in one of them the Pender's. The lane then joined the high-road, which led by a half-a-mile to the front of my aunt's house, and to the village. The farm-gates were always closed at dark. A great bell which when pulled set a dog barking was the way of getting in, after dark.

Leaving the wicket-gate ajar, I went down the lane, it was darkish, a fine summer night, but no moon. I knew where Pender lived, and by cunt attraction strolled in front of the cottage, though fearing to be seen.

As I left the farm-gate, female hay-makers who had worked till dark, passed, curtsying as they recognized me. I thought of Whiteteeth but saw her not. Turning back from Penders after I had strolled past the cottage, I went up the lane languishing with lust, and leaned against a field-gate. I heard a step, — it was the woman with white teeth.

“Good night.” “Good night sir.” “Come here.” She stopped, came close, I laid hold of her arm, and drew her close to the gate. “Come into the field with me, I will give you five shillings.”

A slight chuckle, the white teeth show. “I dare not.” But as she spoke I had got her back up against the gate, and my hand on her grummit.

“My old man will be waiting me, — I can't.” Lifting her clothes I tried to impale her as she stood. “No, no, — some one will pass”, said she in a whisper. I put my hand on the latch, the gate opened, and we were in the field; the gate closed with a snap. I led her along by a ditch to a turn in the hedge; she made no resistance, in a minute we were buried in deep grass, my doodle buried in her cunt, we had spoken in whispers, all was silent excepting the insects which chirped in the hot summer's night.

How delightful these chance pokes are; there was my prick which had not been washed since it had left Pender's cunt, now wetting to its roots in the cunt of an unknown woman, — and I'd only just recovered from a clap. Not a word had we spoken from the moment we entered the field. We copulated in quietness. My prick did not uncunt, but I moved my arse out- wards, when with tightening grasps, a heave up, and a tightening of her cunt, she whispered, “Go on doing it.”

I could see the white teeth, but indistinctly, there was just sufficient light to see outlines, and anything white, but no colour. “I don't think I can, I have been doing it all day”, I said.

“You've had one of the other women”, said she in a whisper, “if I'd knowed it, you should not have had me”, and with a jerk she uncunted me.

“No,” said I, “it's a joke.” She raised herself slightly to look me in the face, but it was too dark. “I thought not”, said she; then she caught hold of my prick, fell on her back again, I saw indistinctly a broad expanse of thigh and belly. “Let's feel, — let's look.” Wide open were her legs in a minute, I felt a great, cool belly, strong, thick crisp hair, my fingers moved easily up the buttered love-trap, I could not see the opening.

“Hush !” said she, “there is a footstep.” Quiet on the grass we lay; tramp, tramp it came, past, and died away. “I wonder who it be”, said she.

She had kept hold of my prick, and soon our bellies met. When done she hurried me not out of her, seemed to like my indulgence, till she whispered, “I must go, keep here till you can't hear my footsteps before you come out, we be near the yard, and if I be seen I don't know what they will say.”

“My old man's at the “Lion”, but I'll go straight home.” “Perhaps he'll have gone home.” “Not he,-they allus sticks at the Public late, when they works late.” And with her cunt reeking, off she went.

I followed, intending to walk round to the front of the Hall. Passing Pender's house, to my astonishment she was standing at the door. I went up to her. “Oh !” said she, “Fender will be home, I expect him every minute.” She could hear his footsteps a mile off, but she would not let me into the house.