My Secret Life

“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 I had withdrawn my hand from hend thighs to do that, and now had to get it back.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.

“Let me dear — do.” — “Oh you hurt me.” — “Now I don't, and won't — I swear I won't.” — I fidgeted my hand, her thighs opened slightly, my finger recommenced its gentle movement on the bud of love, on the soft pulpy mass of clitoris and nymphae — which seemed large and full — till again she sighed. “Aherr — oho — don't,” and her face turned to mine. I put my lips to hers, put again my prick in her hand, and again got my other hand up her clothes on to her cunt and frigged away. — “Oho — ah — don't.” — “Feel it — frig me, love — let me spend in your hand.” — “Aha,” — she sighed. “Let me fuck you dear, I'm dying for you.” —She sighed, she was about to spend, her thighs quivered, when with a sudden effort she got up, let go my prick and dislodged my fingers from their warm place. “I must go to Mamma,” she said loudly, almost violent- ly. “You shan't.” — “I must.” — She moved towards the door, when catching her round the waist with rapid effort, I pushed her against the bed, lifted her upon it, and threw myself beside her, talking voluptuously, swearing I'd have her, She, now inert, didn't resist. “Let me go for God's sake,” — was all she said. “Hish dear, they'll hear you.” — Again I was frigging her and had placed her hand on my prick, when she gave a strange half cry, half hysterical laugh, she had passed the rubicon, meant fucking. Who could wonder at it after all she'd seen, heard, and done on that day — and all she knew?

No more was said. Lust at times works craftily and slowly. I'd fears that a sudden shock might spoil my chance, but caution now left me, all was a chaos of loving baudy words and deeds, the sighs of a woman with a sweating cunt, and wanting fucking, her fearing it, of a man reckless with desire and a turgid prick. My kisses grew more rapturous, attempts more bold, her resistance less and less. “Don't — aha — don't — you'll ruin me. — Don't now,” — she sighed as lustful pleasure enervated her, and my fingers moved quickly over clitoris and nymphae. With a sigh her thighs then opened, resistance ceased. The moment had come, I felt my power — how the male instinct tells! — With-drawing my hand from the lovely aperture, tearing open my trowsers, pushing them down, pulling up my shirt, freeing my prick and balls, rapidly I turned my belly on to hers, grasping a haunch with one hand, pointing my prick with the other. — “Let's fuck, darling.” Then my wet lips met hers, closing her mouth. “Don't — no — for God's sake don't,” she murmured inarticulately as my tongue forced itself between her lips, that lovely moist embrace of mouth and mouth. “Oh — pray.” — Then all words ceased.

Not a movement of legs, arms or buttocks hindered me as our bellies met, and my thighs slid down between hers widening them apart, opening the road to the earthly paradise of humanity, she palpitating, with cunt yearning for a prick, subdued, utterly silent till she felt my fingers opening the way for my entry. “Ho — ho,” she cried sharply as roughly in my impatience I lodged my prick and gave its first pressure at the gate of love.