Directly we were seated. — “Show it me.” “I forgot, I mustn't in a church.” — “Why?” — “They are so naughty.” — “Oh!” — “That's a lovely window.” — “Yes,” — said she hastily looking. “But show me.” — I was dying to show her, she to see, but I made her wait to excite her. At length I produced a photo of a naked woman on a bed with thighs wide apart, and a man standing with his big poker ready. — “I won't look at it,” — said she handing it back, after she had fairly well seen it. Her face flushed, and she was excited. She usually was so cool about such things.
Thoughtfully she rose to leave, I kept looking at her and smiling. “What are you smiling about?” — “At what you're thinking about.” “I'm not thinking.” — “You are about that happy couple.” — “It serves me right,” — said she as we left the church. Soon we entered another and she sat down -saying she was tired, she did it to induce me to show her others. — “Will you see another?” — “No, lend them to me.” — “No, look,” and taking the envelope out I showed one of two girls gamahuching. — She looked much more excitedly now. — “You do that.” — “I don't.” — “How do you get pleasure?” — “I don't that, and don't want any.” — “Nonsense, you're a goose if you don't.” — “As I've seen those you may as well show the others.” — “I won't.” — “Let's go home then.” Back we went, I thinking her one of the most incomprehensible women I'd ever had to do with. At the hotel. “Come to my room and show all, you can talk with me as to a father, you know” — her own words once. — She smiled.
END OF THE TENTH VOLUME.
Volume 11
Chapter I
Edith the frisky. • My bedroom. • Exhibition of a stiff prick. • Exhibition of a bleeding cunt. • My regrets. • Next day's amusements. • A week's work. • Departure. • Edith's grief. • Her history partly.
Edith was a complete puzzle to me. Does she fuck or frig herself, or play with women's cunts, has she any cuntal defect? She looks sensuous from eyes to mouth, she'll talk on sexual subjects freely but in a modest sort of way, yet won't let me feel her. Is she gamahuched by women? She'd looked long at the last photo. These thoughts passed thro my mind and that she had Sapphic tastes was my conclusion. Dressing for dinner, I determined on a bold attempt. Our seats were side by side, and when dinner was nearly over, I did what I've done, to half a dozen women, put my hand under the table cloth — which happened to be just long enough to cover it — and pressed her clothes against her belly as near her cunt as I could. She looked at me hard, and just then a gentleman on the other side of her spoke — she replied, and then quietly put her hand down and pushed mine away, without uttering a word, but looking at me intently.
After dinner we sat awhile in the reading room. She made no allusion to what I'd done. “I must go to Mamma. — Lend me them.” — I refused tho she begged hard, and at length she agreed to come to my room, after my refusing most positively. “I'll sit with Mamma a quarter of an hour first.” — I got champagne in my room, and in twenty minutes, she was with me. She'd told Mamma she was going to the reading room to chat with some ladies. Then she smiled, looking full in my eyes. I seized and kissed her rapturously praising her beauty, and she permitted it. I scarcely expected her, and had resolved if she came to use no more hints and delicate phrases, but to speak baudily to the utmost of my wants, and of the pleasures of fucking; to get that pleasure if nothing further. It de-lights me to say the baudiest to a modest ond quasi-modest woman. They all like it tho some profess to be shocked.
On a little sofa by the table we sat side by side. She took champagne, tho she rarely drank wine, and I showed the first photo. — “I won't show you any more unless you let me explain.” — “I don't want it.” — “But I will.” — “No.” — “He's ready to fuck her, isn't his prick stiff? How I envy them — let us do what they are going to do.” She made no reply. — “Have you ever been licked so?” said I showing the next. — “Of course not.” — But she looked confused, there was something in her manner what made me fancy that that was her letch. I went on exhibiting and commenting and explaining in the baudiest words, whilst she kept silence. At length she began to drink champagne as if not conscious of what she was doing, got excited and began to laugh and question. — “Mind, I'm your father” and I kissed her and she kissed me. — “A pretty sort of parent.” — “A pretty daughter.” — “Look at papa's prick,” — said I unable to restrain myself any longer, and pulled it out. “Feel it.” — “I'm going to Mamma.” — “Feel it.” — “I must go to Mamma.” She tried to rise, I stooped, fearing to miss my opportunity, and got my hand up her clothes to her motte. “Oh! my God! — leave off,” — she squealed out, and our joint movements turned over the slight table with the champagne, the glasses, and photos, on to the floor. I held her tightly, insinuating my fingers between her thighs and begging her to be quiet. “They'll hear in the next room.” — She struggled silently. — “Oh, you hurt.” — I'd got a finger on to her clitoris.
“You wretch to do that, I wouldn't have believed it.” — “I'm madly in love with you. — Look.” — Out came my pego. She looked me full in the face as I rose and flourished my erection. Again she rose to go as I showed it. I pushed her down and sat by her side, hugging her, begging, praying, endearing. — “What nonsense, dear.” All was now confusion. — “I won't let you out,” — and going to the door took the key out. “It's a shame to behave so.” — “My love, no one will know but you and I, let- me.” — She shook her head. — “Well let me gamahuche you.” “What's that?” — said she quickly. — “You know, lick your cunt to give you pleasure, make you spend with my tongue as women do to you.” — “They don't, it's a story,” said she fiercely. — “Hish dear, be quiet.”
Swearing my love, holding her round the waist to me, kissing her and she once or twice kissing me, she pacified, tho still so excited as I'd never before seen her. She helped me to pick up the things, my tumbler and broken glass, wiped some wetted photos, looking at each carefully as she did so without remark; ever and anon staring at me for an instant. What was passing thro her mind? — Again I hugged and kissed. “Why don't you kiss me Edith?” — “There then.” The table d'hote was early for theatre goers and it was light all this time, but dusk now was coming on. One glass remained in the bottle spite of its tumble. I poured it out into the glass and she drank if off at once. “Have more wine?” — “I don't care,” — she replied in a reckless tone. — “Get behind the bed whilst it comes.” She did, and I took in the wine without her being seen. Then sitting on the sofa she again looked at the photos rapidly, one after the other. I now pulled down the blind and lighted one candle on the mantel shelf (a feeble light). Again she gulped down champagne, but there was not the slightest signs of her being elevated by it, and we talked whilst still she looked at the photos, and listened to my plain remarks about them. Was she lewed, and controlling her sexual wants?
“Are you going to wait till you're married before you are fucked, dear?” — Nothing now seemed to upset her and she began answering. “I never shall be married,” laughing cynically. — “Do it without then. — Now don't be foolish, let me feel you.” — “I won't.” Is she going to yield? passed through my mind as I put my hand down. She barely resisted, but crossed her legs just as my fingers touched the thicket. — “Now don't.” — I couldn't get my fingers to her clitoris, her thighs prevented it, but roved my hand over thighs and bum, and up to her navel, feeling ivory smoothness, ex-tolling its beauty, praying her to let me feel the slit. — “No — no — no,” — was all she said, as she gently squirmed about on the sofa resisting me. Puffing her closer to me — kissing her cheek incessantly, or her lips when half turned at times to me,-she was quiet and seemed reflecting. — “Open your thighs — do, love.” — “I won't.” — “Feel my prick — do.” — “I won't. — Ceasing to feel her, I pulled it out again and still holding her tightly, placed her hand around it. — “Feel it, Edith dear,” and for a minute only she did. I had withdrawn my hand from hend thighs to do that, and now had to get it back. She didn't hinder me, her thighs were no longer crossed, my fin-gers went between the soft lips of the warm nick, settled on her clitoris and there frigged gently. — “Oho — take your hand away.” Again she crossed her thighs imprisoning my fingers, and stopping the luscious titillation. She'd felt the pleasure, and knew she was drifting towards-the irrevocable, was struggling with her sexual desires.