My Secret Life

She drank more sherry, and promised to wash. Then I went downstairs, fetched up the broach and the ten sovereigns, and gave them to her. “How shall I say I got it?” “Does he know how much you have saved?” “Yes.” “Is it a year's wages?” “Yes”,-and she began to cry again. “What shall I say about the broach?” “That you bought it, — let's lay down and talk.” She yielded instantly, I threw up her clothes, she pushed them down. Then I lay feeling her quim, and got out her bubbies, she submitted, laying with her eyes closed, till my rubbing on her clitoris made her sigh. Then up her, I felt her wetting my prick-stem, and shot my sperm into her at that intimation of her pleasure.

It was about seven o'clock, I had been nearly five hours at my amusements, and was tired; but had that day an irrepressable prick. It began to stiffen almost directly it left her cunt. I went down with her to tea, there I pulled her on to my lap, and we began to look at Fanny Hill. I could not get a word out of her, but she looked intently at the pictures. I explained their salacity. “Hold the book dear, and turn over as I tell you.” Then I put my fingers on her cunt again. How sensitive she was. “Let's come upstairs.” “No”, said she, reluctantly, but up we went, and fucked again. Then she groaned, “Oh ! pray leave off,—I'm almost dead, — I shall have one of my fainting fits.” “Lay still darling, I shall come soon”, — but it was twenty minutes hard grinding before my sperm rose. Then she laid motionless and white through nervous exhaustion, excitement, and loss of her spermatic liquid, which I kept fetching and fetching in my long grinding. She told me afterwards that she could not tell how often she spent. I had never been randier or stronger, nor enjoyed the first of a woman more.

She was a most extraordinary girl. After the first fuck she was like a well-broken horse; she obeyed me in everything, blushed, was modest, humbled, indifferent, conquered, submissive; but I could get no conversation out of her excepting what I have narrated. She cried every ten minutes, and looked at me. After each fuck she laid with her eyes closed, and mouth open, and turned on her side directly, putting her hand over her quim, and pulling her clothes just over her buttocks. Then after I had recovered and began to talk, a tear would roll down her cheek.

About nine o'clock she said. “Do go, my sister will be here, — and the bed wants making.” At the door I put her against the wall and rubbed as well as I could my flabby cock between her cunt-lips. She made no resistance. “We'll fuck again to-morrow Jenny.” “I'll never let you again”, said she, “for you shan't come in”, — and she shut the door on me with a slam.

Chapter XIX

My soiled shirt. • Jenny's account of herself. • Fucking and funking. • Poor John ! • Of her pudenda. • It's sensitiveness. • Erotic chat. • Startled by a caller. • Her married sister's unsatisfied cunt. • How she prevented having children. • Doubts her husband's fidelity. • Jenny taught the use of a French letter. • Hickery-pickery, and catamenial irregularities.

When I got home I looked at my linen; never had it been in such a mess after female embraces. I had taken no care about it, it was be-spunked in an unusual degree, and lots of thinnish stains were on the tail which made me think that one or both of us must have spent copiously. Then I recollected that Jenny's cunt seemed very wet to me when I felt it after I had spermatized her. There were no signs of blood, and taking stock of the sensations I had experienced, “Jenny has had it before”, I said to myself. Then came a fear that her discharge was from a clap, but I dismissed that from my mind. I had only once had the clap from a woman not gay.

So I washed the tail of my shirt, laid it under my arse to dry, gave it a natural stain of piss, and wen: to bed reflecting and wondering who had first penetrated Jenny's privates.

A day or two afterwards I went to see her and shammed a knock. She opened the door. “Oh I” she exclaimed as I entered, “now you shan't, you shan't again.” “I shan't what my dear?” “I know why you came here, — but you shan't.” “I want a chat, — don't be foolish, — come here, — I won't do anything, — I don't want anything,-but come here.”