MY SECRET LIFE
ing each other for a time, if mine could be called feeling, when my fingers only touched the top of the notch. I took up the candle. “I won’t go if you bring a light”, said she, so I put down the candle, and holding her by the arm, we walked through the passage across the little hall, to the front parlour; she closed the door, and we were in the dark. And now I only recollect generally what took place, it seems as if it all could but have occupied a minute, or two, though experience tells me it must have been longer.
We sat on a settee or sofa, she had hold of my prick, and I her cunt, for she now sat with thighs quite wide open. It was my first real feel of a woman, and she meant me to feel well. How large and hairy, and wet it seemed; its size overwhelmed me with astonishment, I did not find the hole, don’t recollect feeling for that, am sure I never put my finger in it, all seemed cunt below her belly, wet, and warm, and slippery. “Make haste, your aunt will be in soon”, said she softly, but I was engrossed with the cunt, in twiddling it and feeling it in delighted wonder at its size, and other qualities. “Your aunt will be in”, and leaving off feeling my cock, she laid half on, half off the settee. “No, no, not so”, I recollect the words, but what I was doing, know not; then I was standing by her side, my cock stiff, and still feeling her cunt in bewilderment. “I can’t . . . stop . . ., get on to the sofa.” I laid half over her, my prick touched something—her cunt of course. Whether it went in or not, God knows, I pushed, it felt smooth to my prick, then suddenly came over me, a fear of some horrible disease, and I ceased whatever I was doing. “Go on, go on”, said she, moving her belly up. I could not, said nothing, but sat down by her side, she rose
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