My Secret Life

“You began piddling.” “Didn't.” “I felt the piddle on my hand.” She made no reply, but passed on, and wiped her face. When I said more she merely tossed her head. “Don't be a fool Jenny, — let us, — you want it as bad as me.” Then I rattled out my whole baudy vocabulary, “prick”, “cunt”, “fuck”, “spunk”, “pleasure”, “belly to belly”, “my balls over your arse”, “let my stiff prick stretch your cunt”, — everything which could excite a woman; to all of which she merely said, “Oho !—oh !” and tossed her head, and never took her staring eyes off me, nor ceased swabbing up her perspiring face, and at the same time looking at my throbbing, rigid cunt-stretcher.

Finding she took to yelling, and even hitting me, I desisted a moment. “Where is the book I sent you last night?” I had till then forgotten it. That opened her mouth. “Have not had a book.” “I saw the boy give it you, and you open it.” “He didn't.” “He did.” “I burnt it, — a nasty thing, — I would not let my sister see it.” An angry feeling came over me for the moment, for I thought it probable, and should have had difficulty in replacing it. Then came an inspiration to help me, — a man always gets somehow on the right track to get into a woman if he has opportunity. Nature wills it. The woman was made to be fucked, and the sooner for them, the better for them.

“You have not burnt it, — I'll bet it's in your bedroom, — in your box.” “It isn't.” I'll swear it's there, —you have been reading it all night, — I'll go up and see.” She started as if electrified into life as I made for the door. She got there before me, and stood before me. “You shan't go, — you've no business up there, —I've burnt it, — it's not there.” “It's in the kitchen then.” “No, I've burnt it”, she went on rapidly and confusedly. “I'll go and see”, said I pulling her from the door, she screeching out, “No you shan't go up, — that you shan't, — you've no business there.” Then I pulled up her clothes to her belly, she got them down, but still she kept her back to the door. I kept pulling her till her cap was off again, and felt sure she was getting weaker and weaker.

Then she turned round suddenly, opened the door, and ran up the stairs rapidly like a lapwing, I after her. Once she turned round, “You shan't come up”, said she, and tried to push me back; and then again on she went, I following. I stumbled, that gave her a few steps ahead; I sprang up three steps at a time, recovered the lost distance, and just as she got into the bed-room, and slammed the door to, I put my foot in it, — it hurt me much. “Damn it, how you hurt my foot, — I will come in” — and pushing the door my strength prevailed; the door flew open, I saw her running round the bed, and there on the very pillow of the unmade bed lay Fanny Hill, open at one of the pictures. I threw myself across the bed, and clutched the book. She then stood motionless, panting and staring at me, she had clutched at it, and failed just as I caught it. She would have got it, but for having to go round the bed.

I laughed. “Have you not had a treat Jenny dear!” Her face was a picture of confusion. I was stretched half across the bed, and now went right across. Then to escape me she ran away, and had nearly reached the door when throwing myself over the bed again, I grasped her petticoats under her arse, and managed to pull her back. “Damned if I don't fuck you”, said I, “by God I'll shove my prick up your cunt if I'm hanged for it”, — and pushing a hand up behind I clasped her naked buttocks. She turned round, I pulled her petticoats clean up, she yelling, struggling, panting, imploring. I dropped on my knees, kissed her belly, and buried my nose between her thighs. The petticoats dropped over my head, her belly kept bumping up against my nose and lips, which were covered with her cunt-moisture.

I rose up, pushed and rolled her against the bed, my hand still up her clothes. “Oh ! don't, don't now, —you .re a great gentleman they say, and ought to think of a poor girl's ruin, — oh ! if it was found out I should be ruined.” “It won't darling.” I had got my fingers well over the whole slit. “Pray don't, — well I'll kiss you, — there.” “Feel it.” “Will you let me get up if I do?” “Yes.” “There then”, and she felt me. “Oh ! I must fuck you.” “Oh! pray don't, — oh ! let me go now, and I'll let you another day, — I will indeed sir, — oh l you hurt, — don't push your fingers like that.” “Kiss me my darling.” “You shan't.” “There there.” Another struggle. “Oh ! I can't—be—bear it.” Her arse began to twist again, her head sank on my shoulder, her thighs opened; then with a start, “Oh! my God it's lightning (it began to thunder and lighten badly), —oh! I'm so frightened, — oh ! don't, — another day, — it's wicked when it's lightning so, — oh! God almighty will strike us dead if you are so wicked, — oh! let me go into the dark, — oh ! don't, — I can't—be—bear it.” Her arse was shaking with my groping and frigging.