MY SECRET LIFE
struggled slightly but made no noise. She kissed me as she asked me to take away my hand; I could move it more easily on her quim, which I did not fail to do; she was wonderfully quiet. Suddenly I became conscious that she was looking me full in the face, with a peculiar expression, her eyes very wide open, then shutting them. “Oho—oho,” she said with a prolonged sigh, “do—oh take away—oh—your hand, Walter dear,—oh I shall be ill,—oho,—oho,” then her head dropped down over my shoulder as I knelt in front of her; at the same moment, her thighs seemed to open slightly, then shut, then with a quivering, shuddering motion, as it then seemed to me, and then she was quite quiet.
I pushed my hand further in, or rather on, for although I thought I had it up the cunt, I really was only between the lips—I know that now. With a sudden start she rose up, pushed me off, snatched up Tom from the floor, and rushed upstairs. My fingers were quite wet. For two or three days afterwards, she avoided my eyes and looked bashful, I could not make it out, and it was only months afterwards, that I knew, that the movement of my fingers on her clitoris had made her spend. Without knowing indeed then that such a thing was possible, I had frigged her.
Although for about three months, I had been thus deliciously amusing myself, anxious to feel, and see her cunt, and though I had at last asked her to let me fuck her; I really don’t think I had any definite expectation of doing it to her. I guessed now at its mutual pleasures, and so forth, yet my doing it to her appeared beyond me; but urged on by my love for the girl—for I did love her—as well as by sexual instinct,
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