Soon after eleven o'clock, there we were in a house (not my favorite one) and ten minutes after that, she in chemise, I in shirt were on the bed together. I inspected her charms which she seemed a little modest about, she inspected mine, which pleased me much. Now I looked out for the signs of childbirth. — She was absorbed intensely in handling and contemplating my prick, when I began the search. I was standing by the bed-side. Suddenly she relinquished my prick, and pushed down her chemise. By my investigations she was evidently taken unawares. “Don't. I don't like to be pulled about so, don't,” — said she very angrily. “You've had a child, my dear.” — “I haven't.” “Yes, I have just seen the marks.” — “I haven't but what if I have?” — “Nothing, my dear.” — “But I haven't, I've had a miscarriage.” — “How did that happen?” — “I shan't tell you. — I'm sorry I've met you.” — “Nonsense. It doesn't matter to me if you have, or not.” A fuck restored her temper.
I tried to get out of her when she'd been fucked first, but learnt I expect nothing true. She'd been seduced, had been ruined by a scoundrel who had promised to marry her, her career was gone. She'd since had no other man but me. — How curious I was, did I ask all the ladies I had such questions. She didn't want men for she hated them. — Well! She did frig herself, if I wanted to know — why shouldn't she, she must do something, naturally. — “Frig Amelia?” — “Certainly not — she has quite enough of it without doing that.” — “Enough of what?” — She hesitated. “Well fucking, there! — I knew you wanted me to say that word, and I've said it, and do you feel any better for it?” She was nasty, snappish, and disliked being questioned. So I desisted, having come out for pleasure, and not to annoy.
“I won't look at your belly” said I, after she had washed her cunt, for that she insisted on doing quickly after I had spent in her, and I wanted again to see her charms, for unless I am in bed for the night, I nearly always look at a woman's cunt before each fuck. I am indeed never tired of looking at a woman's hidden charms. “Now don't be nonsensical, you may pull your chemise down below your navel, but I've seen all I want there, — and I pulled it down myself. — “Now open your thighs wider — you did it on the sofa the other night.” — Open they went, for it makes some women lewed to have it looked at. I had a good look at a cunt of the usual class, a cunt of thirty, well haired and full lipped, nothing in it to call either pretty or the reverse. But she was tawny skinned, there was a slightly billious, brown tint in her skin, just as there was in her face. She was what may be called a dark skinned woman which I don't much admire, but fleshy and well proportioned. When I had seen all this, and done my utmost in tailing her that morning, I was satisfied, and never desired her again.
In the four hours, she kept me closely up to my work. She wanted fucking more than I did, but I did it four times. She was curious about my prick, and looked at it repeatedly. When I said after my second poke, — “Let me look at you, open your thighs.” — “Let me look at you then,” she said, and laughed. — Of course I let her. I couldn't help thinking that really it was a long time since she'd had a man, or she wouldn't have handled and looked at my prick so much. She was like a young girl with it, and her hurry to let me up her was undisguised. Yet as I had made up my mind from her evasive replies to my questions that she was lying, I didn't care to think much about her, or whether she had been much or little fucked, or by one man or more.
She had come out that morning to buy a dress, she said, which I think was true. I tipped her, which I half fancied she didn't expect, and we parted as if we were acquaintances, and nothing more. — Nor did she make any signs of recognition or pleasure when I saw her again at Mrs. German. (This all took place before Mrs. German told me she was in the family way.)
Some months elapsed during which I was much abroad, and I went a long voyage across the sea, which I omit telling here for the sake of continuing about Amelia. It was on my return that she told me she was in the family way and the particulars just given. Then I resumed sleeping with her, and did so at times for one or two months, till her belly began to get large. — After a while she got fretful and tearful, for her captain tho he sent her money and kind letters, said it would be long before he could see her again, that he had been found out, and had had an awful row with his governor about her. She began asking me if I thought he would do what he had said. How could I tell I replied when I only knew what she had told me. Then she said she was sure she could trust me, and showed me a bundle of his letters which I read, and saw he was cooling down. I did not like to add to her trouble by telling her that, but said if he didn't, she might perhaps sue him for a breach of promise, tho I didn't think she could — but that even comforted her.
I did not care about poking her with her big stomach, and left off calling much. She then went to the Argyle, as she said, only to divert herself. Whether she got friends there or not I didn't know, but she so managed to dress that there were no signs of the size of her belly. At the Argyle she came up to me one night directly she saw me (I had always told her never to notice me unless I made her a sign, it was my custom with all women). “I must speak with you,” said she. “What do you think, I went home last night, and found my house-keeper had delivered herself of a seven month child and it was dead, and was lying on the table wrapped up in a napkin, she was lying on the sofa fainting — what shall I do — the dead baby's there still.” — I suggested calling in a doctor. She said she was frightened to do that. — “Perhaps she's killed it,” I remarked. — She was sure she didn't know, she hoped not — but Mrs. A*t*n wouldn't reply, would tell nothing wouldn't open her mouth. — There she lay now in bed ill, only saying that she wouldn't have a doctor and wished she was dead.
I could not assist her, but still advised a doctor. — She asked me to go home with her and see Mrs. A*t*n. — I declined doing so as long as the dead child was there. I could do no good, but would be at the Argyle a few nights after.
A week after, Amelia told me the child was buried and that it was stillborn. That A*t*n was ill, and that she meant to send her off directly she was better. A week after that she was gone, and I slept with Amelia. She was mysterious about her companion, and said she would never have believed that she would get into such a scrape again. I asked no further questions not wishing to know anything more about the matter, but had my suspicions that the child was born alive. — I never heard of A*t*n afterwards. — But I wonder much at Amelia thinking that a woman who had once had fucking, would go the rest of her life without it. — There were fresh servants in the house soon after. If I had anything to do with begetting that child, it could not have been more than five months old, but suppose I had not.
But there is one thing I ought to have named before. I was very salacious one night, and delighted much in the beauty and whiteness of Amelia's form. She was, I think in much the same condition of lust. How exquisite is the pleasure when a man and woman are both lewed, and play erotic tricks together. Her belly had then scarcely began to swell. I postponed consummating, and indulged in many lewed preliminaries. I was fanciful in the highest degree and full of erotic inven-tions. — “Kneel over me dear, and let me see your pretty cunt” and I moved into the middle of bed. She was naked as she was born, for she had had her night-gown on ready to get into bed with me, and I made her take it off. Laughing she placed herself on her knees straddling across me, her coral split slightly opened by the position. I gazed with sensuous delight and stiff prick on the pretty light haired division, and fingered it using at times both hands at once. When doing so she put one of her hands behind her bum and felt my cock. — “Oh — hah — isn't it stiff. — Oh, do me.” — “Not yet love, feel my prick again.” — Kiss it, kiss, I'm so lewed,” — said she, wriggling her thighs and but- tocks, as well as a kneeling position permitted. “Come nearer then.” — She moved on her knees more for-ward, they widened out as she came near my shoulders, and her cunt met my mouth. Rapturously I kissed it, then involuntarily put my hands round her smooth white buttocks and pulled her closer to me. “Get lower down dear.” — Her cunt covered my mouth I put out my tongue and tickled her clitoris with it, then licked, then closed my lips on it, then licked it again. “Oh — oh, if you do that I shall spend. Oh — ohooooo,” — she said and her cunt moved back-wards and forwards, covering my mouth and my nose. For a moment I desisted, saying “Shall I gamahuche you, Mealy?” — “Oh, do — go on, do, I'm nearly spending,” and her belly and backside shook with her lust.