My Secret Life, Volumes I. to III. - The Original Classic Edition. Anonymous Anonymous

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СКАЧАТЬ in her running round the kitchen, and my chasing her; both laughing, stopping at intervals, to hear if my aunt knocked. "I'll go and lock the outer

       gate," said she, "then your aunt must ring, if she comes up to the door, she will hear us, for you make such a noise." She locked it and came back again.

       The kitchen was on the ground-floor, separated from the body of the house by a short passage. I got her on to my knees, I was now a big fellow, and though but a boy, my voice was changing, she chaffed me about that; then my hand went up her petticoats, and she gave me such a violent pinch on my cock (outside the clothes), that I yelled. Whenever

       I was getting the better of her in our amatory struggles, she said "oh! hush! there is your aunt knocking," and frightened me away, but at last she was sitting on my knees, my hand touching her thighs, she feeling my prick, she felt all round it and under. "You have no hair," she said.

       That annoyed me, for I had just a little growing. Then how it came about

       I don't recollect, but she consented to go into the parlor with me, after we had sat together feeling each other for a time, if mine could be called feeling, when my lingers 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.

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       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 up, "You're not man enough," said she, laying hold of my prick. It was not stiff, I put my

       hand down, and again the great size--as it seemed to me--of her cunt, made me wonder.

       What then she did with me, I know not, she may have frigged it, I think she did, but can't say, a sense of disgrace had come over me, as she

       said I was not man enough, disgrace mixed with fear of disease. "Let me try," said I; again she laid back, I have a faint recollection of my finger going in somewhere deep, again of my prick touching her thighs

       and rubbing in something smooth, but nothing more. "You're not man

       enough" said she again. A ring... "Hark! it's your aunt, go!" and it

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       was.

       I went into the adjoining room, where my books were and a lamp, she went to the street-door. My aunt and cousin came in, and went up to their

       bedrooms, I sat smelling my fingers; the full smell of cunt that I

       had for the first time. I smelt and smelt almost out of my senses, sat pouring over a book, seeming to read, but with my fingers to my nose and thinking of cunt, its wonderful size and smell. Aunt came down. "Have you got a cold, Wattie?" "No, aunt." "Your eyes look quite inflamed, child." Soon after again, she said: "You have a cold." "No, aunt." "Why

       are you sniffing so, and holding your hand to your mouth?" Suddenly

       the fear of the pox came over me, I went up to the bedroom, soaped and washed my prick, and had a terrible fear on me.

       I was overwhelmed with a mixed feeling of pride, at having had my prick either touch or go up a cunt, fear that I had caught disease, and shame

       at not being man enough. Instinct told me, I had lost, in the eyes of

       the woman; and my pride was hurt in a woeful manner. I tried to avoid seeing her, instead of as before getting excitedly into a room, where

       she was likely to be alone for a minute. I did that for three days, then fear of disease vanished, and my hopes of feeling her cunt again, or of poking--I don't know which--impelled me towards her.

       During those three days, I washed my prick at every possible opportunity, and thought of nothing else but the incident; all seemed to me hurry, confusion, impossible, I wondered, and wonder still, whether my prick went into her or not; but above all, the largeness of the cunt filled me with wonder; for though I had had rapid glimpses of cunts as told, and had now seen a few pictures of the long slit, I never could

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       realise that that was only the outside of the cunt, until I had had a woman. My fingers had no doubt slipped over the surface of hers, from clitoris to arsehole; the space my hand covered filled me with astonishment, as well as the smell it left on my fingers, I thought of

       that more than anything else. This seems to me now laughable, but it was a marvel to me then.

       When I sneaked into the kitchen again, I was ashamed to look at her, and left almost directly, but one day I felt her again, laughing she put her

       hand outside my trousers, gave my doodle a gentle pinch and kissed me.

       "Let's do it!" I said. "Lor! you ain't man enough," and again I slunk

       away ashamed.

       CHAPTER IV.

       My first frig.--My godfather.--Meditations on copulation.-- Male and female aromas.--Maid and gardener.--My father dies.--A wet dream.--Bilked by a whore.

       The frequency of my cockstands, up to this time I don't know. Voluptuous sensation, I have no clear recollection of; but no doubt

       during that half swooning delight, which I had when big Betsy allowed me to lay my head on her lap and feel her limbs, that impulse towards the woman was accompanied by sensuous pleasure, though I don't recollect the

       fact, but soon my manhood was to declare itself.

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       Some time after I had felt this servant's quim, I noticed a strong smelling, whitish stuff inside my foreskin, making the underside of the tip of the prick sore. At first I thought it disease, then pulling the foreskin up, I made it into a sort of cup, dropped warm water into

       it, and working it about, washed all round the nut, СКАЧАТЬ