Half-an-hour after that I sat down to dinner, having composed myself. Mary brought up the dishes. The instant I saw her my cock stiffened, it kept stiff all the evening, I could not sleep for it, was tempted to fuck, or frig myself, but did neither, feeling sure I should have Mary, and would not spend a drop of my sperm till I did. “What does she think of me? — will she believe I am a man ? — will she let me again ? — when shall I get the chance? — what enervated me so at the critical moment?—oh! my God if she lets me, and I am seized so again, what shall I do then? — and so on ran my thoughts. I lay planning how to get her the whole night, and awakened haggard and unrefreshed in the morning.

Then I reflected less nervously. “My finger has been up her cunt”, I thought, “no pain, no recoil,-how quiet she laid, — then she has been fucked before, — then what must she think of me?” and so on ran my thoughts till I was in an agony of disgrace. My haggard look was noticed. I was worried, and should not be home to dinner. “Why?” That was my business. Well then she would spend the afternoon with Mrs. ***,-would I fetch her? Yes at half-past ten o'clock. She wanted to come home earlier. Then she might come by herself. Well then she would wait for me till half-past ten.

The next day. • On the door-mat • On the sofa. • On her belly. • Eight hours fucking. • At a brothel. • An afternoon's amusement.

Instead of being late I went home about two P.M., just after luncheon time. “Is Mary alone, or not?” I thought, and had arranged for that. I waited in a cab, told a boy to take a letter to No. **, but not to give it unless the lady was at home; if she were not, to bring it back to me, and he should have a shilling when he returned to me. If asked, he was to say he had been told to leave it, but not to say by whom. The letter was properly addressed, but inside was a sheet of blank paper only. Back he came with the letter,-the lady was out.

Even then I was not sure, so drove up and down two or three times in front of my house, to see if I could discover any signs of Mary not being alone, and then I dismissed the cab. My prick had been standing on and off all day, I was in a fearful state of nervous erotic excitement. When I thought of her beautiful belly my prick nearly lifted me off the seat, the next minute I had fears of being taken as I had been the day previously. Would she let me now? — would she be in the mood?-would she not laugh at me, instead of putting her arms around my neck, and her eyes fill with tears? My heart beat audibly with these tumultuous thoughts as I knocked at the door. To my horror I felt my prick shrinking as I stood on the landing feeling it through my trowsers pocket.

Mary opened the door, surprise in her eyes, and a slight look of fear. “You sir!” “Is your Mistress in?” “No sir.” To step inside, close the door, place my arms round her, and kiss her rapturously was the work of an instant. She kissed me, and I her for a minute, and glory to God my prick was like a rod of hot iron standing up against my belly, and throbbing to emit its juices up the dear girl's cunt, against which its poor little tip not twenty-four hours before had dangled and rubbed so uselessly.

A stoop, a struggle. “Adun now — Master, — you shant,-oh! you musn't”, and again I was upright, my lips on her sweet lips, my finger on her clitoris, her face scarlet with modesty, her eyes closed. What woman can long withstand that irritating, voluptuous., restless movement, of the male finger on her cunt? Soft words now, “Oh! don't”, as I stooped down to lift her petticoats, and she pushed them over my hand. Another slight struggle, again our lips meet, again my finger rubs the smooth clitoris, now her hand grasps a hot prick, and with her lips to mine she stands with her back up against the wall of the passage close to the street-door on the door-mat. So we stand kissing and feeling, I don't know how long, for who can count time in such delights.

“Come to the parlour, come.” “No, no, — oh ! pray.” I edged her along, one hand still up her petticoats, she trying to push them down. “No I won't,-there now.” “Do Mary dear, — let's do it, — I'm a man,-let's do it, — look, look how my prick throbs for you, — it will spend.” Removing my hand from her cunt, I seized hold of both her hands with mine, and began gently dragging her along the passage to the parlour, she leaning back gently resisting, I leaning back tugging her, my prick red-tipped, stiff, and throbbing standing out in its randy glory between us.

I got her into the parlour, a flood of sunshine struck full on us from the back window as we did so (windows both back and front in the long room). There she seemed half unconscious. Kind of heart, pitying, liking me, her splendid healthy physique, her fully-developed passions, passions of which she had tasted the full pleasure, but which had been for a long time ungratified, were roused to intensity by the feel of my prick, by my groping her cunt, by the excitement of the position; all had relazed her nervous system, and absorbed her in voluptuousness. What did she think? Did she think at all? — did she ever know? How can I recollect what I thought in that maddening moment of fierce desire to have her? I grasped her round the waist, and pushed her to the sofa. No resistance, not a word was said. My arse knocked hard against the table, and hurt me. She is down on the sofa, her petticoats up, I see the creamy flesh, large round thighs, the dark hair on her cunt for a second, I am on her, up her, a slight sob as my prick goes up with the thrust of a giant, and we are spending in each other's em-braces, mouth to mouth, belly to belly, prick to cunt, ballocks to bum-cheeks, almost the instant I had covered her, and grasped her smooth fat buttocks. I have no sense of time, all is oblivium and elysium at the same time.

Our sighs of pleasure are over, there is no uncunting, no stopping; but with rigid prick still up to its roots in her cunt, on again we go fucking in earnest. Now is the higher pleasure. The first was a maddening desire for each other, a fuck finished before it was begun. Now we are fucking with soft pleasure, and the thoughts of the greater pleasure to come, of my spunk to spurt, of her juices to ooze to meet it, in a cunt already flooded. I recollect smoothing her hair back from her forehead as I fucked, of kissing and meeting her tongue with mine, and spending with rapture, then waking from a doze, and finding her half asleep, I on the top of her, my cock still up her. My trowsers not let down had ridden up, and were cutting me tightly under my balls with a painful sensation, and all this was on a narrowish sofa, a modern cheap bit of furniture unlike the grand big one in mother's house, on which many a servant had had her cunt basted by me.

She lay with her beautiful head on one side, with eyes closed, with her long hair falling loose, and her cap tumbled off. As I lay I loosened my braces, and little by little took the strain off my testicles, and my balls fell down into their natural position. I put my hand down to feel how my prick lay, the sperm was oozing out all round it. I wanted to see her quim, and pulled out, then putting my hands against the sofa-squab, I pushed myself gently up, rose on to my knees between her thighs, and looking down saw the sperm between her cunt-lips.

She opened her eyes, pushing gently down her clothes; but the glance had been enough. With prick still stiffish down I fell on her, and was up her again in the twinkling of an eye, lodging my prick in preparation for another fuck.

Now all is clear, our lust assuaged. “I've fucked you, — I'm a man you see”, I cried triumphantly. She closed her eyes, my prick came out, I pushed it back, again out, again up, and so on for a time. A long business was fucking now, long friction, no result, then a long rest, our genitals joined, their hairs glued together, yet no fear of a failure. My machine went on ramming, moans of pleasure at length came from her, her hands clasped me tightly, and with a heave and cry of “Oh ! my darling”, she again spent with me, my prick aching with its labour of love.