My Secret Life

A desire came to make her youthful mouth utter baudiness. “Say cunt dear.” “Cunt.” “Say fuck.” “Fuck.” “You know what fucking is?” “Putting that into this”, said she with a chuckle, “ain't you going to do it?-I'm quite clean.” “Let me look again.” Again the little hand down, and stretched the lips. I prepared for action, again fear seized me, and down my doodle drooped. “No dear, lay still, and I'll frig myself over you,-turn on your belly,-let me see your bum, — there that will do.” I put some spittle on her bum, and rubbed my prick against it, but longed for the hole between her thighs. “Have you got a French letter?” “I'll ask mother”, said she going into the adjoining room. In came a woman of middle age suckling a baby. “She will fetch one, give her the money, — make haste now, — never mind your bonnet, — run, — run. She won't be long”, said the woman to me.

“Your daughter?” I said to the woman who stood suckling her baby, and staring at me. “Yes sir.” The baby took to howling. Swinging it about to quiet it, she went on in a whining tone, “We are so poor, we are almost starved, we are, — what was I to do for a living? — I've nearly lost all since my husband's left me, and can't afford to keep a big gal She that; if she will go wrong I can't help it, I can't send her out, — I catched her with a young Gallows, and the mischief were done, it were, I knowed it, and I knowed it would be, so I did, — I could not keep her in, and the chap were allus arter her,-she must live, and she's better at home doing that, than doing it away from me”,-and much of the same sort in a whining, apologetic tone without stopping, without my asking.

“Has she been gay long?” “Bless you sir, it ain't more nor two months since I catched her with young Gallows,-he is in qued, — serve him right; but he'll be after her agin when he is out, he will.” “Where is your husband ?” “Oh! the vagabond's gone off with a hussey, and left me with three children, — this here's the last. Drat you”, said she shaking the infant which would not leave off howling. “Oh ! here she is.” The girl entered the house with the cundum, and the mother and baby disappeared.

The affair was not enticing, my cock was flabby again, but the little wench's naked belly stirred and stiffened me. I prepared the letter. “Did you ever see one before?” “Yes a gent had one here one night, but he did not put his thing into it.” “What did he do then?” “He blew it out, and popped it off”, said the girl. “Oh ! you wet it,-let me see how you do it, — does it not feel cold? — it's a nasty thing. Indeed I'm all right, — gals has diseases from doing it I know, but I ain't, — look”,-and again the girl distended her cunt-lips without any modesty or affectation.

Fearful, but (as often was the case with me and French letters), my cock and the letter would not agree. My cock stiff without it, drooped its head directly the wet flabby sheep's-gut touched its tip. At length it was over my doodle, and shoved up the little cunt after much trouble. “It don't feel nice”, said the girl. A few shoves more, and I lost all prudence, pulled it off, and drove my naked prick with such a thrust up her little quim, that she cried out. Her cry of pain gave me pleasure, and fetched me.

No one can lay so close up to you as a thin girl, two stout people can't stick together like two lean ones. As I came to myself the little girl was wriggling under me. “Oh ! dear, just as it was beginning to feel nice, —why did you do it so quick?” “Do you want it?” “Oh! I do, — do shove a little”, — and the little cunt squeezed itself up to my belly, and wriggled my doodle in her. I accepted the invitation, the girl spent, and I had a second pleasure up her, after I had pulled my prick out for a minute or two, to inspect it.

She brought me a basin, soap, and a napkin of beautiful quality and white. “Ulloh ! is this yours?” “It's something we had to wash and mangle”, said the girl. “It's a table napkin.” “Yes sir.”

“Don't you make a living by washing and mangling?” “No”, said she, “we have lost our business, father ran away, took linen, and sold it, — people won't trust us, — none of those who lost their linen, — others don't know us. Thank you sir”, as I gave her the five shillings, “we don't have as much sometimes in two days.” “Wash your cunt my dear.” She went out of the room, and came back saying she had washed it. I felt it, and she had. Then I talked for an hour with her.