I was curious,--a man always is in such matters. "Did it hurt you?--did
he get up you quick?" "I'm sure it was pretty quick, I cried out, and it
hurt. I was all in a tremble; then he said, 'Well you were all right and
tight five minutes ago.' I bled a lot."
"Perhaps your old sweetheart had done it before?" "He never laid hand on
me, but to kiss me." "Nor any one?" "Oh! yes, they have tried all round
I think," said she laughing, "you have,--so has the squire, and lots of
'em, you can't help that,--if a girl's taken unawares a man can get his
hand on her thighs, but he won't get more; and I always slapped their
heads, and there was an end of it." I recollect certainly her slapping
at mine hard enough.
Then she relieved her mind. "He's not a bad man,. he don't get drunk,
and we don't quarrel; but I don't care for him, and never did." "Ah! you
lost your young man, and thought you would be fucked by some one." "I
did not think at all about it, but in a sort of spiteful fit, when he
asked me to marry him, I said yes. I didn't think about his not doing it
to me much, till a woman asked me how I liked it, and how often he did
it; but I told her he did it a lot. Then I talked, and found men did it
often to their wives, and he does not do it to me once in three weeks.
So I fretted." "What do you do?" said I. She laughed, I gave her
clitoris a rub. "That's what you do?" "Yes," said she. "Do you often
want fucking?" "Every day," said Mrs. Pender frankly and openly. "Did
you want it the day I had you by the hay-stack?" "I just did." Then she
added that her husband knew she frigged herself, and usually said to her
when she intimated that she should like him up her, "Oh! do it yourself,
if your cunt's so hot, I'm tired."
She had married a man much more than double her own age, who poked her
once in three weeks; this healthy, well-fed woman of twenty-three who
wanted a nightly roger, and could have spent half-a-dozen times daily
with ease. She now had got me, liked me, was ready to do anything with
me or for me as I found out, and was sorry for it.
At six o'clock she was obliged to leave. We were both fucked out, and
parted regretting that a month must pass before she could venture to
go to her mother's again. I had left her enough to think about, for I
fucked her in several attitudes. It gave me pleasure to teach her.
Next day Molly ran in my head, so I fished about to hook her. She had
seemed to me so young, that I had taken but little notice of her; liking
the fat-cunted, biggish-arsed females best. Now I noticed her being so
plump and fresh, and wondered I had never noticed her previously. When
I met her, I looked in her face thinking, "Innocent as you look, your
cunt's been wetted by a man." I longed for her, but she was nearly
always in the farm-yard, either with her mother or Pender, when not
assisting up at the Hall; but when a man hunts a woman he is sure to get
a chance, as will be seen I did.
Just after I had Pender on the Sunday, an annoying thing occurred to me.
Whiteteeth worked in all parts of the parish, and she just now came to
do something on my aunt's grounds,--weeding I think. Catching her one
day alone I took some liberty. She resisted sullenly, looked up, and
nodding her head said, "You gave me a bad illness." "What!" said I.
"Did you not?" said she. I swore I had not; did she think me such a
blackguard?--would she see my prick? "Then my damned old man's given it
me, and he swears I gave it him," said she. She had a clap. I never had
her afterwards, and was told that lots of men had had her. Fred told me
soon afterwards, that he had, but that she had been quite steady since
her marriage, he believed. I didn't undeceive him.
When the farm-work was over Molly stood sometimes at the lane-gate.
Loitering about I saw a man named Giles there, who when he saw me
moved off. I laid hold of her once or twice, kissed and made the usual
approaches, at last got a hot fit of lust for her, and felt I would do
anything to get her once. After two women with well-haired cunts I did
nothing but picture to myself that she had a small cunt, and but little
hair on it, like nursemaid's,--and the idea excited me.
I have already described the barn, step-ladder, and loft; the chickens
sometimes flew up the ladder into the loft. I had seen Pender go up, and
whisk them down. Looking about one afternoon (hay-making was again going
on), no one seemed about, though Pender was in the dairy. I entered the
barn from the brickyard side, just as Molly was going up the ladder,
showing her legs innocently enough.
"What pretty legs," I cried. The girl scuffled up as hard as she could
to get out of sight, I after her. She was chasing some chickens, and
was as red as a turkey-cock in the face. I caught hold of her, prick
standing, heart beating, and kissed her. She resisted, I put my hand up
her clothes, and in the struggle we both rolled on to a heap of loose
hay; I had felt the flesh of her thighs. "Leave off," said she, "or I'll
call mother." Her mother was then ill in the farm-house.
"Don't be a fool," said I attempting it again. "Don't you do such
things sir,--I'll call mother,--it's wrong of you" "If you do," said
I brutally, "I'll tell your mother Giles fucked you in the field last
week."
Never shall I forget the look of the poor girl's face. "Oh!--oh!" said
she breathless, "you didn't,--it's a story, oh! now pray,--oh! it's a
shocking story,--I warn't in the field." "Don't.--oh! it hurts," said
I repeating other words which had been wandering through my brain ever
since I heard them. "I heard you and the man say that."
She began to cry, putting her head in her hands. "Let me do it, and
I won't tell,--no one will know, and you won't tell Giles, that's
certain." She ceased crying, and fixed her eyes on me wildly, I got my
hand up her clothes, her thighs were closed, she kept pushing me away,
"No,--no,--no." Forgetting where I was, or that anyone might come up the
ladder, I had my prick out, and with a struggle got my hand on her
cunt. "You won't tell, really now?" "Not if you let me." A little more
scuffling, and I had her down. She was quiet, and I was fucking with
all the delight and energy which a fresh woman gives a man, when I heard
"Molly, Molly" shouted out. With a violent start she uncunted me, and I
spent over her motte. "Where are you such a long time Molly?" "There
is a hen up here," said Molly who had started up, "and I think she has
laid, but can't find the egg." And Molly disappeared down the ladder.
"You're wanted up in the Hall," said the voice,--it was Pender's;--their
voices died away. How pleased Pender would have been had she known the
condition of Molly's motte!