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Chapter 27 - 27

The garden parlour door was open. "Come in here and talk." I pulled her

in with but little difficulty, pushed her down on the sofa, and put both

arms round her. The door closed, leaving a small opening; there was

no light, but the gleam which shot from the hall-lamp through the door

ajar; I could barely see her face, and sat by her begging forgiveness

and kissing, but got no reply. My prick was more than stiff, I put my

hand down on her lap, on to her knees, then down to her feet, waiting a

second at each advance--no movement. My hand slipped up bit by bit,

it passed her ankle, her garter, and was on the flesh above--still no

movement. I hesitated and begged--no reply. Up further went my hand, the

thighs were not closed, but let my hand slip between them, a long drawn

sigh came from her as my fingers buried themselves in a fat, warm quim.

I pushed her back gently, and put her hand on to my prick; she held it

tight, and in a whisper said, "Will you never tell anyone?" By my body

and soul I swore it; the thighs opened wider, her body fell back and

disposed itself on the sofa, my hands roved over a large expanse of

flesh, I could see the white mass only, the rest seemed dark. I kissed

the hair on her cunt which I could not see, felt the smooth velvety

haunches, and threw myself on one of the finest, whitest and broadest

bellies I ever yet have had close to mine. The thighs opened to receive

me, and the next moment my prick was gliding up her cunt--she was not a

virgin.

 

What a heavenly sense of satisfaction at being up a cunt again. I could

scarcely realize my success; my hands felt between the fat lips, to

ensure my being in all right. I was conscious of a difference between

her and Charlotte, the way she lay, the size of the thighs, the quantity

of hair, and a quiescent manner, made her as different as possible from

my former sweetheart. Novelty made me think this one more delicious,

but nature would not postpone, and was impelling her as well as me; was

tightening her cunt round my prick, her body was thrilling for a spend.

I pushed as her cunt tightening, roused me, tighter was my prick grasped

within her; her arms folded across me, drew me towards her like a vice;

her belly moved up quite slowly to mine, as if to throw me off, then

moved twice or thrice as if in a spasm--a sigh, and her belly sunk down

as slowly as it had risen up, drawing my sperm into her, as she spent.

 

We lay without stirring, or uttering a word for a long time, supremely

happy; my prick lingered as if it intended to stop permanently in its

trap, she made no effort to dislodge it; at last it began to shrink,

then curiosity began, down went my hand between our bellies, wet as if

from a bath of gruel was my doodle and her quim. Then she spoke--the

first words uttered--"No--no--." The feel had such an effect on me,

that my prick began again to stiffen. I had with Charlotte failed

ignominiously two or three times, in a third fuck on the same day, and

feared a failure now. I kissed and felt her, as far as my hands and our

clothes would let me, she moved her bum up gently to let my hand under

it, but not a word could I get from her. "Can I do it again?" thought

I, and began pushing--yes it was stiffening, and again was that cunt

tightening. I push harder,--with a gentle heave the belly comes up, I am

off on the ride without having withdrawn; was this the fist time I had

ever been man enough to do it twice without uncunting? I think so.

 

The passage of privates was longer, I felt more movement in her

buttocks, her sighs were stronger, her hand moved more restlessly over

my back, our mouths got glued together. Her lips are wet, or it is

mine which are getting wet? There is a new, voluptuous sensation I never

experienced before, it delights me; I glued my lips tighter to hers,

our heaves are quicker, our sighs shorter, I feel the least bit of

her tongue touching my lips. I had never heard of that voluptuous

accompaniment of fucking, and it was to me an inspiration; shooting

out my tongue into her mouth,--hers comes out to meet it; they are

exchanging liquids,--the delight spreads electrically through our

bodies,--up comes her belly,--shorter are my shoves,--a quivering

wriggle to get deeper up her--and we both spend together, as it

seems with more pleasure than I ever did before. How strange I should

recollect this all so clearly.

 

The delights of the wet kisses are new to me; although not able to see

them, I thought of her exquisite teeth, and rolled my tongue over them.

She kisses me, still holds me, again my hand goes down to feel the parts

now separating, slobbered, and sticky with past joy; out comes my prick,

and then she speaks. "No-no," she sits up, I by her side, my hand on her

naked thighs for a minute. She gets up, gives me a long kiss, goes to

her room, and soon after comes down, her eyes wet with crying, "Don't

come near me, don't be unkind, let me alone," she says. Her manner was

so commanding, that I let her go to the kitchen without following her.

Shortly Eliza and then my mother came home.

 

Mad for her again, I took to my chemistry in the back kitchen

constantly, you may be sure. When I got the chance, spoke of our

pleasures and my hopes. "We ought," said she, "both to be ashamed of

ourselves, but I especially who am so many years older than you, ought

to have known better; if I am punished it will serve me right. Oh! if

you don't hold your tongue! My risk is more than you have any idea of."

All was said in a way as if she were preaching, and looking me full in

the face.

 

She refused what I wanted and avoided me, but it was impossible for her

altogether to escape me. Risking everything, emboldened by impunity with

Charlotte, I used to clutch her knees, and put my head up her clothes,

kissing and smelling her motte, I began to love the smell of it. She

used to dislodge me, and neither made a noise, nor uttered a word in

doing so--indeed she rarely spoke at any time. But it is difficult for

a woman who has been fucked by a man to refuse him again; I watched my

opportunities, my conversation broken as it was, and rarely but for a

minute at a time, was one repetition of lustful wants and prayers; I

used to pull my prick out, beg her to see and feel it. At length she

did, saying, "May God forgive me for my weakness." That day I fucked her

again standing in the kitchen, and a second time a few hours afterwards

in the dusk, which experience began to show me was the time she was most

accessible; the other servant was somewhere in the house at the time I

recollect.

 

After that her manner changed, she ceased to resist; but when I asked

her to go to a house with me, she said, "No, no, I am not coming to

that." Now, though tranquil, she was more capricious, sometimes letting

me feel her, or do it to her with impatience; at other times with

evident desire to please; but I was so often baulked, and I plagued her

so incessantly to meet me somewhere, that at length she did, saying,

"Well, it little matters, as I have made my bed, so I must lie on it." I

did not know then what she meant by that.

 

****

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