In conversation, I had discovered that she had travelled much in Europe, and tried to draw her out about herself, but found it useless, — she was close as an oyster. She tried the same with me I noticed, with what success I cannot say. Who is she? — what is she? — her husband has been long away she says, — she looks quiet but invitingly, — she advised this hotel, — she laughed in a lady-like manner at little boys recollecting things, — does she want poking? — shall I try it on? — so ran my thoughts rapidly.

With lewed intent, but nervous about my intentions, I still listened and heard movements as of a woman undressing. Then I half-undressed myself, brought the pot nearest to the door, and pissed, making it rattle as much as I could to excite her. Anything which brings man and woman to think of the genitals of the opposite sex has a stirring lewed effect! Then I knocked gently, and called, using the name (Mrs. M***l**d) she had entered in the hotel-book. “What do you want?” said she coming to the door. “To talk to you, — I feel so dull.” “And I'm so cold, — good night.” “Haven't you a fire?” “There is no stove.” “There is one in my room, — and it's quite warm, — come in and chat, — you are not going away tomorrow?” A long pause. “No thank you.”

Rustling movements again, and a cough. I hesitated, for she had given me no encouragement. My prick got voluptuous, it had not entered a woman for a week or more. I put wood on the fire, summoned courage, and knocked again. “Come and have a chat.” “No thank you, I've my gown off.” How rapid is human thought. I saw in my mind's eye her half-naked breasts and arms, and my prick rose stiff. Has she bolted the door, or found out that it is unbolted? I turned the key, then the handle, and the door opened! “Oh! who's that?” said she running to the door. “Oh! you really must not — the maid ought to have locked it.” Her voice had dropped, and we stood looking at each other, when she found it was I who had entered.

“Don't be frightened, — it's too early to go to bed, — come and chat, — your room is like an ice-well, mine like an oven. Leave the door open, it will warm your room.” “I don't mind the cold.” You complained of it.” “I shall be warm in bed.” “You'll be warmer in mine, there is room for two.” “Oh! don't talk such nonsense.” “It's not nonsense, — we are alone, — come.” “No.” “Come and have a glass of champagne (the bottle scarcely commenced was in my room), — you'll sleep better.” No she'd had more than enough; but she hesitated, and stood still looking at me. “Fetch me a glass” “Come in, — it's warm, and your boy won't hear us talk.” “Poor little fellow, he is so tired,” said she standing still, “and it's really freezing here,” (throwing a shawl over her shoulders). “Come, it's warm in my room.” A little more persuasion and she came, sat with me before the fire, and had champagne. The door was left open, so that the heat might penetrate her chamber. No one was in the bed-room next to mine, — I had ascertained that.

We talked cosily, then warmly. Gradually I felt her arms. How plump she was, — she did not look so plump in her gown. Really, — didn't she? Then with coquetry and pleased vanity, she showed her arm nearly to her shoulder. I kissed it. “What sweet, smooth flesh you have.” “Now don't, — you must not.” I had lifted the shawl, and she tightened it. “Oh! do let me see your bust again, — it's beautiful, — I saw it when I opened the door.” With a twitch I pulled off the shawl, clutched her, and kissed her shoulder, but little of her breasts were visible. She would go if I went on so, and put the shawl back. I made her pull off her stockings, — her feet would get so warm. She turned her back to me, and did, — and nice white little feet she showed.

But one of my nervous timid fits was on me, and I could not make the attack boldly that I wanted to make. She was a lady, evidently married, and I didn't then see that whether conscious of it or not, or whether she intended it or not, that she really was ready for fucking, — she really was ready for fucking, — she could not help being so. I hesitated, and went on talking quietly and respectfully. When did she see her husband last? “Oh! some time ago.” When expect to see him? She didn't know, — she expected a letter there from him. I had all this in the diligence; and got bolder. “You're longing for him to be in bed with you, aren't you?” “No, — but it's quite natural if I did,” — and she laughed, and looked at me. In half fear I kissed her. “You mustn't really,” but now I had struck the lewed gamut, and ran rapidly up it after my usual fashion. “Let us sleep together.” “Oh! no, — I ought not to have come in here.” “Do.” “I dare not.” She half rose to go, but I kept her down on the chair. “Don't go, — it's quite early, — your room will get warm soon,” and I threw more logs on the fire.

“What pretty white feet — you've a lovely leg I am sure. — Do let me.” And gently I put my hand high up on her calf, I did it so respectfully, but she stopped me stood again, I knelt for an instant between her thighs, shaking my stiff machine at her in baudy waggery. Then putting out the light we covered up, and talked lust, lewedness, and love, till again we consummated, and went to sleep, her bum against my ballocks, her back against my belly, my hand over her haunches touching her motte. The loveliest of all ways of sleeping with a woman in cold weather. We slept for hours. When I awakened it was six o'clock, and quite dark. Her rump was towards me and she was fast asleep. I was lying on my back, with as grand a prick as ever opened cunt lips. I never could have too much of a woman. Even when fucked out I still like to see, feel, and kiss her. I soon turned round, and felt my lady pretty freely over her body, but without awaking her. Then I slid my fingers between her buttocks and thighs, in what seemed much crisp hair, till the soft elastic covers of her quim met them. I wriggled quite slowly my middle finger up it, how warm, soft, and smooth, it felt, and I revelled in it for a minute. I believe it to be impossible to keep a finger up a woman's cunt long without awaking her. Mrs. M***l**d's bum began to move quite gently, and her cunt to clip when my finger had been in her a little time, then she half turned round, and my finger came out. “What is it, what are you doing, what is it? Oh, it's you,” she said, suddenly becoming conscious that she she was in bed with me. Lust was raised in her. I pulled our night clothes well up, and belly to belly, with hands on each other's arses we kissed. “Let's do it again.” — She turned on to her back, I on to her belly, and we had that fuck with pleasure peculiar to the morning, and fell asleep again.

But she awakened me soon. — “I must get out.” “To piddle?” “Yes.” I groped for the pot and handed it to her, she pissed, and went to the boy's door. “Arthur,” she called. “He's fast asleep,” said she, and came to bed again. — We cuddled, but fucking was over. At the first glimpse of daylight, “I must get into my bed before my boy comes in,” said she. She bolted the door between our rooms, I went to bed, and it was late when I went to breakfast. She had breakfasted and left the room long before. — We had agreed not to notice each other much. The towel I had taken to bed with us was handsomely stained. — I am too old a hand now, and have had too much trouble with stained sheets to for-get a towel on such occasions as this.