Clasping her still tightly, my prick straight up against her navel, I now lodged it against her clitoris. “Let me rub you with my prick, just where my finger rubbed you, — it will give me pleasure, and you too, — feel, — is it not hot and stiff? — let it go up your cunt!” “No you'll hurt.” She was yielding.
I must have been an hour persuading her to this point. How I restrained myself I do not know. Perhaps my morning's frig helped me. My fingers again were on her cunt. She closed together her legs tightly, but my finger could not be kept out. Then with sighs and muttered words her thighs unclosed. I pushed my knee between them. “Let me put my prick there.” I raised my body against hers, pressing her on to her back with my belly. Her thighs distended, whilst I felt for the nick, and tried to lodge my palpitating penis. The next minute all thought of the Missus and children went, and I lunged my prick against her cunt.
“Oh! you said you would not hur — hurt me, — oh! — oo — h! — you shan't.” Two or three quick violent lunges, a sharp suppressed cry. “There my darling it's up — your — cunt,” — and fucking violently to make sure, the divine pleasure overtook me, and I spent.
It was done, her cunt was spermatized for the first time, she had submitted to the inevitable. “You hurt me so, — oh! I hope the children won't hear,” were the first words I recollect her uttering after I had emptied my ballocks into her.
The sensation was over, but the pride of victory re- mained; my prick was in possession, it was easy to keep it up her, but the usual, “Oh! you're so heavy,” was said. She moved, sperm began to dribble out, my tool to dwindle. “Oh! if the children should hear, — oh! if they were to come in!” She feared the children now, as little by little my cock left her cunt. She did not seem to fear her mistress.
I got out of bed, struck a light, and moved gently a wash-hand stand against the door. “There. The children now can't come in without making a noise, — if your mistress comes I'll be under the bed like a shot, — you say you put the wash-handstand there because you heard a noise, and were frightened, — and now my darling let's look at your cunt.” She resisted that more than the fucking, and jumped out of the bed to get away. As she did so I saw stains of blood on the night-gown, and did not insist on gratifying my eyesight. Putting out the light we both got into bed again. Soon my prick was churning up the spunk in her cunt, and we spent the rest of the night in dozing, and fucking. Fear, lest the landlady should come up, kept me much awake. Sally never closed her eyes, but she enjoyed the prick, and when it was daylight, what a lovely mess her little cunt, her linen and mine were in, for I saw them all.
About six o'clock I rose. “I'll go down,” said I. “Then Mrs. Harris won't catch us, — she won't be up yet, and you'll go down soon to light the kitchen-fire I suppose.” “There is no one in the house but the two children and us,” said Sally quite quietly.
It was true. The mistress, believing that I had gone to London, had gone to see a sister. Sally was left in the house until Monday to take care of the children; hence the chain up, and the closed door. Sally had kept up the sham of her mistress being within till the last moment, hoping that my threat of going to her bed-room would have the same result as on other nights when I had promised to go to her. She now told the truth, it was useless to tell anything else.
The butcher had brought meat for the Sunday's dinner, he entered by the area — his was the male voice I had heard.
“Oh! don't do it again, I'm so sore.” My prick stood stiffer than ever when it touched the sore cunt. Then Sally spent with me and slept, and so did I. I slept a heavy sleep without anxiety now, fearing nothing.
“Oh! it's the children crying, they will tumble down-stairs,” said Sally. We removed the wash-hand-stand. “I'll lay here,” said I. “I'll get them their breakfast,” said Sally. “Come up after.” “Yes, but I must put my frock on,” — and she did, over her nightgown.
In an hour up she came and got gaily into bed, and we fucked again. Then I would look at her cunt, and threw her back violently on the bed to do so. She had not washed. She was a sight, so was her night-gown, so were the bed-sheets. Sarah looked aghast at them.
The children were quite young, but even children talk, and Sally was anxious that no one should know I was in the house. So she took the children up into the bed-room after their breakfast, and then I went down to the kitchen, and got what food I could. Dinner there was none for me, for they had but a pound of steak between the three. I went out and had a repast at a tavern, then took home sausages which I managed to buy, and when the children were put to bed, Sally and I to-gether cooked the sausages, and eat them in the kitchen. She had not had such a feast for some time, for the lodging-house mistress fed her on scraps left by the lodgers. Then we had some mild voluptuous amusements. Then we filled up with whisky and water, and went to bed early.
The next morning I left long before the Mistress re-turned. The children had never seen nor heard me, and unless the neighbours had seen me, no one could have known I had been in the house. But in the thirty hours I had fucked myself out, and Sally as well. Her prayers “not to do it any more” I shall recollect to the last day of my life, and her swollen, crimson-tinted little cunt was touching to look at. I never had more pleasure in baudiness than I had in hurting her. It made my prick stiffen directly she said she was so sore, and my prick stood in an inflammatory excited state for half an hour at a time, and even when I could get no spend out of it, in Sally's cunt it lingered as if it never meant to leave it. It was a delicious thirty hours, in which she learned enough about fucking to make her lewed whenever she thought it over in future.
She was in a way about the sheets, but we got over it much in the same way as I did my shirt-tail in my youth. First she washed the patches, ironed it, got out a good deal of the evidence of her lost chastity, and then changed it for one from my bed. I took the dirty one, and my bed on the first-floor was made up with it. The next day after my supposed absence I returned and slept there, next morning laid abed late, took off the sheets, dipped them in water, and told Sally to tell the landlady to come up. “I have been sick and ill in the night Mrs. Harris,” said I, “and have taken off the sheets, and put them into the water, — let me have a clean pair,” leaving her to imagine whether I had spewed, or pissed, or shit in them. She never made any remark about it, so Sally told me.
A long rest, a day's good food, and ten hours sleep put my doodle into first-rate condition again. My de-sire for Sally increased; how to get her was the difficulty. She, I am bound to say, did her best to get her cunt amused, and fell in with every suggestion I made, any trick I planned; and they were many. We man-aged to fuck two or three times nearly every day in a month. The days I was disappointed only gave me breathing-time. I was idle, well fed, and in the finest possible condition. Fucking was my only joy, and I enjoyed myself up Sally.
The children now slept with their mother in what I found was a bedstead in a sort of large closet, in a small room adjoining the back-kitchen, which had only a skylight a few feet above the back-yard. I had looked out of my bed-room window, and not knowing much about the plans of seaside lodging-houses, wondered what the skylight lighted. The little servant now being allowed to sleep in the back two-pair, I used to steal upstairs at midnight without shoes or light, get in-to bed with her, put a towel under her bum, fuck her, and get down quickly. She had such a fear of being found out, that I believe until she felt the crisis approaching, she never quite forgot to keep her ears open.