There was something in her manner, which made me fancy that at that moment lust was stinging her cunt, so I followed. “Meet me another night, tell me your name and address.” — She hesitated. “Give me a kiss before we part.” “What next, sir, you, a perfect stranger, I'm surprized at your impudence.” Then she said she was married. — “Ah what a lucky man, what would I not give to be married to you, try another husband for a little time.” — Now I had my rutting impudence on and a stiffening prick. She dawdled now, and I guessed by that, that my talk pleased her.
The streets were here narrower, with small but six-roomed houses in them, not well lighted, no shops, scarcely any traffic. I got to lewed hints which without coarse language were yet unmistakable. She laughed suppressing it, and then, “What would your wife say if she heard you?” “What would your husband say if he knew we were talking about fuck — getting children,” — stopping short at the word fuck purposely, as if it had escaped me accidentally. — “You're not a gentleman, good night,” and she walked on rapidly.
So did I, feeling now reckless, begged her pardon, said that her beauty had made me so long for her directly I had spoken to her, that I could think of nothing else. “Now don't follow me I'm just home, and mustn't be seen talking to a man, my neighbours may see me,” and she stopped full under a gas lamp, staring at me full eyes. “My God how handsome you are, do meet me tomorrow, your husband needn't know.” “He's abroad,” said she, “but I dare not — pray leave me.” “I will if you'll kiss me.” “I won't sir.” — She walked on, stopped between the lamps where it was darker, and directly a pedestrian had passed us I gave her a kiss spite of her sham resistance. — “Oh let me have you, or my prick will burst.” — Thinking I should not succeed, I resolved that I might as well indulge in lewed utterances as not. I could but lose a chance, and there is always pleasure in saying words of love or lust to a strange woman. — “Oh! you're disgraceful,” said she, in a low tone of voice.
How I wish I could experience a female's cuntal and mental sensations, as desire for a male enters her brain and body. I know that one of the results is a moistening, for I have felt many a cunt when desire was coming on. — Mrs. ***'s cunt I expect was in that state now, for she walked on very slowly, again asked if I was married, then if I lived about there, and at last after a long and seemingly thoughtful silence, “If you come in will you promise never to call again,” said she, in an agitated manner. — I promised everything. — “We live over there, wait here, when you see a servant come out, watch till she's turned the corner, then come, I'll leave the door open, but I'm only going to chat with you mind. — No nonsense mind. If the servant doesn't come out, you must go.” Her manner was nervous, agitated, hurried; before she had been quite composed.
I thought she was going to bilk me, having been hum-bugged thus before by more than one, and asked her name which she refused. Saying again that I was dying for her — she crossed the road, entered the house and the door closed. Five minutes passed which seemed to me a quarter of an hour, for I was in a fever of impatience, wild with lust, thinking of my chance of her hidden charms, then that she now was fooling me, and whilst deliberating whether I should risk knocking at her door, it opened, a servant appeared, turned the corner of the street, and in a minute I was in the house with the lady.
She had her bonnet and cloak off, and was a stout comely woman, at a guess twenty-eight years of age. “You mustn't stop long,” said she, “my servant's only gone on an errand,” — and she sat down on a sofa. The room was comfortable, of the sort which bespoke an income of a few hundreds a year, not a bit of the flash arrangement of a gay woman's rooms. “What did you want to come in here for,” said she with that humbugging sham which a woman can put on, as if she didn't know what I had come for, and what she had let me in for. — She must have known.
No time was to be lost, so I plugged at once. “My love, to fuck you,” and in a second had my hand between the lips of her nick. “Oh don't,” she cried loudly, closing a pair of fat thighs on my hand, but not tightly, “you shan't do that.” — But my fingers next moment were rubbing her clitoris, now feeling the mouth of the avenue, in another she had hold of my prick in her little hand, and still saying, “Oh don't, you shan't,” our lips joined, silently we were handling each other's fucking apparatus, till her thighs moved restlessly, and my prick was at furnace heat. Then gently I pushed her back on the sofa, and in a not very comfortable position, my prick was shedding its pearly libation into her spending cunt. Ah! what Elysium to grasp the unknown smooth buttocks to plunge my burning pego up to its balls in the cunt of an untasted beauty, to hear her gentle sighs and murmurs, as the hot spunk throbs out into her hot thirsty vagina; and then to settle down tranquilly with prick in the viscosity of our spendings, thinking of what we had done together and what we had done it with, till the shrinking implement of my pleasure comes out of hers, that cunt so tight, but now loose and surrendering some of its libation, as the delicious conjunction of our bodies is broken. — Such was my pleasure with charming Mrs. * * * three nights ago.
Sofas in small houses now are not like those of thirty years ago, on which I have stroked many a woman. — As my prick left her cunt I arose, and she rushed rapidly upstairs. In two minutes she returned. “You've washed that lovely cunt.” — She laughed. “Let me see it.” “Oh no.” — How often I have heard that said, but it availed not the speaker.
She sat on the sofa. “I will see it,” said I. — She refused. Then kneeling suddenly, I pushed up her petticoats, and buried my mouth between her closed thighs, kissing them upwards till my nose met the crisp hair of a fat soft motte, whilst my hands mounted to her plump buttocks. Then without resistance I pulled her to the sofa's edge. All felt to lips and nose so fresh, so dainty, so moist from the washing, and smelt so sweet whilst my mouth was there, so did the aroma of her healthy cunt rouse me, that distending her thighs, my lips met the clitoris. Out then went my tongue, gliding rapidly to and fro over the slippery gristly projection. “Oh you dirty man,” she cried. All women not strumpets say that at the first gamahuche. But she surrendered herself to the luscious exercise, and her voluptuous sensations. I licked, till feeling a gentle quivering of her thighs and backside, I ceased, not wishing to make her spend. With my prick still hanging out I sat down beside her, and guided her hand to it, still sticky as it was with our spendings. She handled it looking at me with humid lustful eyes. — “Let me wash it,” said I, wanting to get her to her bedroom.
“I'm so frightened of my servant coming back.” “Send her out again if she does.” — We went to her bedroom, on the floor was the basin in which she'd rinsed my libation out of her cunt. It was a comfort-able room with a large bed, the gaslight burning. I cleared off the evidences of our pleasure from prick and balls, and said we'd do it on the bed. “Oh no — if my servant sees the bed rumpled.” “Don't let her — I will see your lovely thighs and cunt,” so saying I got my hand between her thighs, again standing up as we both were, and she let my fingers take their former place without hindrance.
Mistress M* ** was hot cunted and no mistake, I saw it in her great luminous moist eyes, which looked at me in loving manner. I can tell that expression in them still more clearly, now that I write this. The voluptuous expression struck me strongly. — Pressed by me she mounted the bed, saying that I really must not stay long, but when side by side feeling each other's genitals, I found I was not ready for the encounter, having only discharged my semen a few minutes before. This unnerved me for a minute, for her cunt was ready, and she eager for fucking as it seemed to me.