MY SECRET LIFE
I never wanted to part with her, put my hand out of bed, scramble it up her clothes, till I could feel the hair. Then she would jut her bum back, so that I could not touch more. One night my prick stood, “Take the light outside”, I said, “I’ve something to say to you.” The door was half open when she had complied; the gleam of the light struck across the room, my bed was in the shade, “do let me feel you further, dear and kiss me.” “You naughty boy!” but we kissed. Again I felt her thighs, belly and hair. “What good does it do you, doing that”, she said. I took hold of her hand, and put it under the bed-clothes on to my prick. She bent over me, kissing and saying “naughty boy”, but feeling the cock, and all round it, how long, I can’t say, “oh! I’d like to feel your hole", I said. “Hish!” said she, going out of the room, and closing the door.
She felt me several times afterwards. When my mother brought me the arrowroot, she having an idea, that I liked her to do so, I would not take it, saying it was too hot. She said, “I can’t wait, Wattie, while it cools.” “Don’t care, mamma, I don’t want it.” “But you must take it.” “Put it down then.” “Well, don’t go to sleep, and I’ll send Betsy up with it in a few minutes.” Up Betsy would come, and quickly and voluptuously kissing, keeping her lips on mine for two or three minutes at a time, she would glide her hand down and feel my cock, whilst my fingers were on her motte, her thighs closed, then she would glide out of the room. I never got my hand between her thighs, I am sure.
I used to long to talk to her about all I had heard, but don’t think I ever did more than I have told, for I had a fear about using baudy words to a woman, though I already used them freely enough among boys.
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