Well primed that morning, I stood a long time with my prick well up her after spending. She laid motionless. Then letting one of her legs drop on to the chair, and still holding up the other, I pushed up her drooping petticoats so as just to see her belly, and slowly with-drew my pego, full-sized though not in full ramming condition. As it left her cunt I saw the sperm draw out with it, and sat down on the chair. Then with a violent start, as if just awakened, and just as I had the merest glimpse of her split, she came to her feet, and pushed down her petticoats. We looked hard at each other for a moment, then without uttering a word she walked to the window and looked out. It was a bright, sunshiny day late in the autumn.

I sat feeling my pego for a minute, still in want of a fuck, then went to her. “Oh! don't look out, — if they should see you.” “I've come to see about the repairs, if they do.” “Oh! but they had better not.” Then I brought her to the side of the bed again. It was about two yards from the window to the place where the impress of her heavy arse was still visible on the bed. We looked at each other; she could not look me in the face long. “Fucking's nice, isn't it? — and you're a charming fuck.” “We are a wicked pair,” said she. “Not at all, — we both wanted it, — neither your husband nor my wife will know, — they won't be the worse, and we are all the better, — let's do it again — feel, my prick, it's quite stiff,” and I put her hand to it. She took it kindly, and held it softly, and we looked at each other again, my left arm round her waist, my other on her thighs.

“Let's feel your breasts,” said I. “Nay, nay,” — but she did not hinder me. I pulled open her dress, and felt the globes (each as big as a half-quartern loaf), and round to her armpits. A strong fleshy smell met me as I kissed them. I liked it, and remarked it. She thought it offended me. “Every night and morn I wash from top to toe,” said she. Then kissing her breasts, one hand round her, I tried to feel her thighs higher up. She would not let me, struggled, and got up; but I got a feel, felt the sperm on her thigh, and touched the split. Then standing together, I excited her by talk, and touch, and kisses, and got her on to the bed.

Both laid quiet a minute, not more. Then with a rapid push down of my trowsers, and a pull up of her petticoats, I turned on to her belly. My prick struck in-to the right path without guidance, a soft and gluey path. I clasped one side of her bum with one hand; with the other I played with her bubbies. Then we had that gloriously prolonged fuck, which a healthy couple in the prime of salacity have for their second spend, a fuck slower, more thoughtful, but in its voluptuousness better than the rapid spilling out of spunk which comes with the first fuck of the night. Ten minutes had not passed I think between our first and second crisis.

I dozed on the top of her, then slipped off to her side. Down she pulled her petticoats. We talked. “I'm afeared yell get me into trouble,” said she again, “air ye sure you've got no bairns?”

I talked a history of smuttiness and love-making. I could always keep any woman listening when I began, gentle or simple, doxie or virgin. She wondered. “Aye I knew ye were a gay one, — we're a bad couple.” In half an hour I wanted her again. She did not refuse, but would I go downstairs a while, “a wee time?” I guessed she wanted to piss, or something. Down I went. “An any one knock, coom up gently, and don't go near the winder,” said she. I waited a few minutes, heard movements overhead, knew the jerry had been called into requisition, then up I went. She had locked the door, but let me in at once.

I had a feel up her fresh-washed cunt, and round her buttocks. My God, what spankers! and her breasts, what a pair! firm too, though so heavy. We fucked again. “It's time I had my bit of dinner,” said she, “we are a bad coople.” Then she began to talk about repairs. “I'll come back in an hour,” I said, “don't you say I've been here.” “Dunna come back, — dunna,” said she. “I wun't let ye mair.”

“I've not seen what the house wants,” said I. I went back to McCabe, and told him I had been to my solicitor's, then had luncheon with him, and bid him good-bye. “But what about the good woman's house?” he asked. “Lord I've forgotten all about it, — what's the number? — I'll go at once.” He told it me, and back I went. She opened the door.

“Come in, come in, the neighbours will see ye,” said she, “but dunna gae further.” I gave her a prod with my finger in the region of her cunt, and shut the door. “Now yell get us both into trouble, I'se sure ye will — I could na eat my dinner for thinking about it, — I've had awful dreams last night, and your face was in them.” Luncheon had set me up, I was baudy in mind, randy in body, spite of my fuckings before luncheon. I went into the kitchen, and pulled up her petticoats. “Why you've a clean chemise on.” Yes she had, she said, “there be the other,” pointing to a large tub with linen in the water. I could not move her lust, and spent some time in violently puffing up her petticoats, she in pushing them down. Then out I pulled my pego, and as she obstinately refused to leave the room, and struggled; after dropping on my knees, and kissing her cunt under her petticoats, I finished by shagging her as she stood with her backside up aginst the dresser. Whilst we stood wriggling gently after our full pleasure came a knock. “My husband,” said she, “get in the yard, and over the wall.” I buttoned up my cock, and opened the back-door. Another knock. It was nothing of importance. How often I have been flurried in my fuckings by a knocking at a street-door. “It's a warning,” she said hurriedly, “I wish I never set eyes on ye.”

The knock startled and upset me. I thought I had better go. Perhaps I had had enough of her; for I took out my pocket-book, and whilst she sat down on a chair, she told me all she wanted done. I made note of it, and prepared to go; but the baudy devil was still strong in me. “You've spoiled another chemise sitting down,” I said. “Nae, nae,” she replied, “yer nae so full,” — and then I went away, gave McCabe an account of the house, and he said I might tell the “gude woman,” that she might have it all done up to ten pounds worth. “I'll write it to her,” said he. I agreed that was best.

The next day I was with him. I had awakened in a liquorish frame of mind about the “gude woman.” He had written, but not sent the memorandum which was on a very small slip of paper as usual. “You haven't explained very clearly what you mean,” I said when I had read it. “Ye tak it,” said he, “and tell her what I mean.” So I did, got into the house with her after a little persuasion and a wrangle, and then assaulted her. She was strong, and for a time, though puffing up her clothes successfully, I could not get my hands more than half way up her thighs. But such baudy attacks at last so heat a woman who knows it all means fucking that there comes a point when lewed feelings over-come her, and she can resist no longer.

It was so with Mrs. Byron. I pushed her at last on to a chair breathless, and had both hands up her clothes, one round her bum, the other between her thighs, and moved my fingers about so enticingly on the slit that she opened, and let me grope. “If I let ye this once, will ye gang?” said she, “ye wunna wish to harm a body I'm sure, — if Jack should come home, or the neighbours see ye coom in, and wonder what ye ar aboot sae lang, mischief will come oot of it.” I promised, of course. We went upstairs. We fucked on the bed, but I would not get from between her thighs till I'd done her a second time. Then with unwashed cunt she saw me to the door. I gave her a kiss, and departed.

I was not that way for some time afterwards, and then passed the cottage to try to see her, for I have always been pleased to see the woman who has given me pleasure up her. She was at the window, and bobbed away. I did this two or three times with the same result, and once thought of calling. It was as well I did not, for McCabe said her husband was at home ill. Then I had other and better fish to fry, and never had the “gude woman” afterwards, though she lived there for years. Once my old friend asked me to go to see if the repairs he allowed for were really done; but for some reason or other I did not.