“What's the harm, my darling, even if your lover did, and what's the harm of calling it that if I say your thing, you know it means the same.” — “Oh, you black-guard!” —I went on in the same strain and pinched and tickled her till she screeched. “Oh, you black-guard, leave off.” — “The waiter will be coming in if you make such a noise,” said I, getting up and bolting the door. — “Well don't you do that to me.” “I can't help it, I'm madly in love with you.” — For a time we were quieter, then I pulled her back on the sofa and began spooning. “You know your lovers' been in bed with you.” — That he hadn't, she shouldn't be such a fool. — “Let me.” — “What?” — My arm was round her waist, my lips close to hers, my hand on her lap. I grabbed at her clothes just above her notch. She must have felt the clutch on her motte, and I said, “Fuck you,” and kissed her with mad lust on me.
She slapped my head hard now and threatened to go, but didn't rise. — “Did I hurt you?” — “Don't do it again, or talk like that, or I'll never speak to you again.” — Again we kissed, I gave her more wine, and spilt some over her dress. — “You've ruined my dress,” said she anxiously. — “Never mind love, tell me what it cost, I'll pay for another,” — and I took out my purse. — “You were always kind, but perhaps I'll get it out.” — “Well here's a sovereign to clean it” — she wouldn't take the money.
Some years before I had bought a lot of pretty, small priced brooches. — Most had been given away to servants and other women, and even to favorite doxies. I had one in my pocket now, and also had brought two pairs of beautiful garters with me.
Ah, what a repetition — how many times has nearly the same occurred — I seem to have been rehearsing it half my life, but thus it occurred now. “Now isn't that a pretty brooch?” — “Oh, it is.” — “I'm going to give that to a lady friend.” — “Oh!” said she in such a tone that I saw at once it had crossed her mind that I was going to give it to her. — “And a pair of these garters as well, on one condition.” — I produced them. — “What's that.” — “That she'll let me put them on.” — “Will she?” — “I think so, I did so once before, and she's a nice little lady.” — “Not much of a lady.” — “She is tho, and married.” — “She ought to be ashamed of her self then.” — “Pough! my dear, who'll know but she and I? The last pair I put on her legs as she laid on the bed, and then I got on to the bed with her, and then.” — There I stopped. — “You — are — a — regular scamp, I've been told so,” said Madeline, blushing. — “Why my dear?” — “For tempting a poor woman so.” — “Nonsense, my love, she tempted me, but which pair would you like?” — “This pair.” — Then I said I'd give them her if she'd let me put them on. — She refused.
I chaffed her. “You tie yours up with string don't you?” — “Wouldn't you like to know.” — “Yes, and to feel.” Saying which, I made the attempt, didn't succeed, and got another slap on my head. — She rose up, saying she wouldn't stop any longer, but after a little consideration sat down again.
On I talked in the same strain — all she replied from time to time was, “Oh, you scamp.” But I thought she looked as if the talk was affecting her sensually, and she let me kiss her easily, after every time that she called me that name. — At length, by constantly asking her, the bait took. She selected a pair, and, with just the same precautions that other women have taken, one after another the garters were put on. — As I fastened the last, I put my mouth down, and kissed the little bit of thigh which was just clear above the stocking. — The sniff of the warm flesh exalted my randiness, lust then overpowered me, and pulling her back on the sofa, kissing her rapturously all the time, I got one hand up her clothes, and just felt the thighs and the hair of her mount. — She repulsed me instantly with a loud cry. — “Let me fuck you, my love. I'm dying for you.” — “Oh, you blackguard, get away.” — “Look what a state you've put me in,” and out I pulled my glowing rod, which pulsated as if going at once to discharge the semen which lay in my balls.
Up she got, leaving me sitting on the sofa, with my pulsating crimson tipped, cunt-rammer out. “You mistake me altogether if you asked me here to behave like that. — I'll go at once.” — She meant it. — No. She'd go back to the Palace by herself. It had been arranged that we were to find her friend there, and all go to town together. She said a lot more, all the time standing close by me, and looking every instant at my nodding engine — looking spite of herself I expect. I got her round the waist, and swearing I would go no further, got her sitting again on the sofa, and hid my prick in my trowsers. — She was upset. The sight of a good sized, stiff prick always upsets a young woman whether she has been fucked or not, and stirs up lewed sensations in her.
She didn't know exactly where to go to find her friend, or I believe she would have gone off without me — I now saw I shouldn't succeed in having her, and that she was wide awake. She had a sweetheart who was going to marry her, and wouldn't run the risk of getting with kid, I thought. I also felt sure she'd been poked. I've had a dozen young milliners, and only one was a virgin, and altho this woman lived with her parents and seemed respectable, I know that the more women living as she was are fucked out of doors, the more careful for a time they are to hide their games from their parents and employers. — Disappointed for the minute, I ceased.
It was getting dusk, she was anxious to go, I more and more anxious to have her. My prick would not subside, but threatened to spend in my trowsers. — It was on the Monday that I had had the postage stamp lady, and since then had been keeping myself chaste, with the pleasurable hope of deluging Madeline's cunt with rich spermatic juices. — Again I grasped and kissed her. “There is the brooch, I'll give it you, but am awfully disappointed, for I do so long for you, and no one would know but you and I.” — “Don't be foolish, don't be a beast.” — “Oh, let me then just feel your flesh, by the eternal God, if you'll let me feel your thigh, only half way above your knee — I'll be content, I'll go no further.” — “You beast, let me get up,” and she made a half attempt to rise. — Was lewedness subduing her? — It was a miserable small sofa, with scarcely room for one person to lie down, she was re- dining sideways, I holding her so that one of her feet was on the ground, the other nearly so, and she contemplating the brooch most of the time, was seemingly de-lighted with it.
I have often wondered since if it was the brooch which absorbed her thoughts and made her careless, or gratitude for it, which made her half indulge me for the moment. Or did she feel a sensuous pleasure in my attempt, secure in the knowledge that she could repel my hand when she listed? Was she lewed at that moment and therefore yielding? — What a pity that some visible sign of lewedness is not in a woman; that she hasn't something which will rise up and stiffen as a prick does. — A man has always that sign of his lustful state, and a woman need be in no doubt about it.
She went on looking at the brooch, pinning it on her breast, then taking it out to look at it, whilst I went on kissing, coaxing, pinching her thighs outside, and at-tempting slight liberties. “No, I won't.” — “Only one thigh — a little bit of the flesh only this side. Now do.”
—Holding her round the waist, I hitched up that side of her clothes, and got my hand on to her thigh just above the garter. With both hands she stopped me.
— “There now you've done it, now leave me alone.
—I'm foolish to let you. Now don't. — Oh, what are you about?” and she dropped the brooch.
Rapidly I pulled away the only button which kept my prick within my trowsers, and out it stood rampant; raised her clothes on that side, put one hand under the thigh, with force hoisted it a little up, and turned more towards her, with the intention of letting my prick touch her flesh. I had neither hope nor idea of getting into her. — The thought alone of my prick touching her flesh filled me with voluptuous delight. — I pushed my prick wildly, now holding the thigh still more ex-posed with both hands, and pressing my body to it. — My prick spite of her struggles touched her. — She cried out loudly. “Leave off — oh you scamp, don't.” — I heeded not, heated by the contact, I went on. — A spasm of delight shot through my prick, and an ungovernable movement of my buttocks shoved it to and fro. — Its tip rubbed against the tiny bit of thigh, pulsated violently, and before I knew if I could control it, or she free herself from me, shot out a torrent of hot, thick sperm on to her thigh. It ran down to one of my hands, whilst I sighed out. — “My God — I'm spending — it's on your — thigh.” — Then I sank half fainting with pleasure, upon her shoulder.