Then she washed her lacerated quim. “Throw the water well up,” said H. — We were quiet. Fucking and frigging quiets all human beings for a time. Then I put her on the bed, saw the jagged tear my prick had made, and felt it. She winced, said it was sore, I gave her a present and downstairs she went. H. and I chatted about first fuckings and she said we were both beasts. — “Agreed, but we can't help it, we didn't make our-selves.” It was one of the most voluptuous incidents of my middle age. — Two or three days afterwards the girl left H*l*n's service.

[As often before said, fucking is always much the same, the preliminaries alone vary. The way H*l*n induced the lass to submit, and frigged herself whilst I took the virginity, is similar to the behaviour of other women in like cases. — Women I think like getting girls fucked, take pleasure in initiating them into love's mysteries, tho there is nothing mysterious about it excepting in the psychology. Madame de Maintenon probably did the same as Sarah F. — Nellie L. — and H*l*n did.] At about half past eleven on a cold dull morning to-wards the end of March, passing through a new formed district in the outskirts of the N.W. of London, I turned a corner sharply into new and partially made streets where one or two buildings were already finished ready for letting, and several in the distance building; the remaining land being laid out for letting and enclosed by fencing or hoarding. At the junction of two streets, the hoarding had been canted at the angle, and there squatted a woman on the footway her back against the hoarding, and as I thought at first resting herself, but immediately discovered to be piddling. Her petticoats scarcely covered her knees, I saw the tips of large buttocks, and from the darkness, in the shadow of her petticoats, a strong stream issuing, which spouted out in front of her and splashed audibly.

With lustful delight I walked straight at her, ducking my head as if trying to see her cunt pissing. — As I got close to her the stream ceased, she rose up staring at me, looking surprised and uncomfortable at first, then laughing loudly. — “What do you come this way for, you old bloke,” said she. — “Shouldn't I like to feel that cunt,” said I. — She laughed heartily. “My old man will feel you damned hard perhaps, you old beast — be off now.” — “I'd like to fuck it.” — “He'll do that for me at dinner time — you hook it or you'll be sorry enough” — and again she laughed heartily and with lewed look, as if thinking it a good joke. — “Where's your old man?” — “Working there” — and she nodded in the direction of the houses building. “What did yer come a starin at me for, did yer never see it done afore — yer old enough.” She had not moved from the spot where she piddled.

She had a big round black hat on with a huge dirty feather in it, a dark dress, a small shawl tied round her chest, a clean white apron, white stockings and thick boots. — She looked like a woman who sold things in the streets from a barrow. — Was she a coster woman — or a labourer's wife or woman — or low whore? All this passed thro my mind rapidly at my first advance. Then I decided from her laughing and general manner that she was a slut if not a regular strumpet. Lust now made me again bolder, for she was tallish, thickly built, dark haired and dark eyes, fresh, healthy looking, and perhaps thirty years old. I had seen just the tip of her buttocks and wanted her. “I'll give you five shillings to feel your cunt and have a look at it” said I boldly. — “Get along with yer, you old bloke, he's a working over there.” — “Who?” — “My husband, he'll be out soon to dinner,” and she laughed much.

Not a person had passed or was likely to pass thro the half-formed place, excepting work people. — Close by were two houses seemingly finished, the doors wide open. “To let” written on all the windows, there might be or might not be workmen inside. “Come in there and I'll give you ten to have you,” said I. — She laughed louder. — “Get along with yer, yer ought to know better, I shall get all I wants at dinner time” and she shook her head. — “Let me do it first.” A shake of the head. — “Come.” — “What's the time?” — “Half past eleven.” — She shook her head again but seemed hesitating — I pulled out the gold, showed it and walking on stopped at the first doorway and beckoned. She peeped round the corner and towards where building was going on —I walked on into the hall of the empty house, heard no sound, no workman was there, and in a minute in she came. — “We must be quick or he'll be out” said she. — “Who?” — “My husband.” — “Nonsense, you are not married.” — “Yes I am, look” and she showed her hand with a wed-ding ring. Then I thought it might be true, but felt sure from the way in which she received my advances, that more than one prick had been between her thighs at some time or the other.

We went into the back room, listened and heard no sound. I began feeling her privates. She opened her thighs, I found she'd a heavy arse and thickly haired cunt. — I pulled up her clothes and looked at her massive thighs, to which she rather objected, but I held up her petticoats, pushing her back against a wall, and so for a minute or two I felt and looked at her hairy crack, or rather its beginning, for more was not very visible as she stood.

My pego was standing and I felt awfully lewed on her, yet prudence restrained me. — Who is she, is she wholesome? and such thoughts passed through me whilst I stood reflecting and silent. — Said she, “Make haste, I must go before twelve o'clock — mustn't keep my man waiting.” — At that I ceased looking at her thighs and dark haired mount, and laying hold of her round her waist began with the other hand twiddling a fullish clitoris, till she jerked her belly forward a bit. — “Make haste and do it, ain't yer stiff?” — Annoyed at the doubt I told her to see, and unbuttoning my trowsers a bit, let my stiff stander be visible. She laid hold of it at once without my invitation, giving a sort of suppressed “Whew” or whistle and laughing quietly said, “Put it in, be quick.” — The handling of my tool gratified me, altho her hand was cold and roughish, and again I pulled up her petticoats, she now helping them up with her unemployed hand, and began again feeling her cunt all about; and so on for a minute, she gently handling my prick, till with a wriggle and a jerk of her belly — that undefinable motion which a woman gives when she's randy, and a man's fingers are on her cunt — she pulled my cock towards her, saying hurriedly, “Now make haste, I must go soon, someone may come, there's carpenters here — don't you see? — Put it in.” — She was in greater want of fucking than I was.

Wanting her badly yet fear on me still, “Frig me whilst I feel your cunt.” — “I won't, you beast” said she relinquishing my tool. “Do it properly, or not at all,” and her petticoats dropped.

I snatched them up again. She aided me opening her thighs for my reception. I was just putting my rod into her, when I fancied that the lips I was opening with my left hand felt unusually wet. — Again fear seized me. — “You're a fine woman and have a nice cunt, but I have had all I want.” — Letting go my prick, my coat fell over it and partly it went into my trowsers. I took out half a sovereign from my purse and gave it her. She slipped it into her pocket without thanks, but stood just where she was, eyeing me. — “Why don't yer do it, what are yer feared on?” — said she. “I'm tired.” — “Yer hain't, it hain't that tired be blowed, what are you feared on? — Do it quick — come on — put it up,” and she hitched her clothed up again.

She's got the money and wants fucking, thought I, and my timidity went off. But tho wanting her more than ever I still hesitated, and began to button up my trowsers. She, thinking I was preparing for her bum basting, had planted her back again against the wall, and lifting her clothes up said “Make haste.” — “I can't do it there, I don't want it, I only wanted to feel your cunt.” — “Do it here, then” said she. In the room was a long workman's bench — some shavings on it. —With a hitch up she sat on it at its end. “You can't lay there.” — “Yes, I can” — and back she laid, her legs hanging down over the edge. Excited now beyond all thought of consequences I threw up her clothes, she opened her thighs, for a second I looked at her sex, saw full lips, the red stripe, and thick dark hair on her motte, got out my pego, and then again hesitated. I was in one of those nervous moods which I had some-times on unsual occasions.