My Secret Life

She was now in fear and didn't mean me to feel her cunt, which was now my intention. Indeed all seemed possible, the excitement had raised my lust high, we were alone and had nothing to fear but the chance of a gardener coming. She'd seen my prick once, and again I produced it balls and all now. “Look Agatha, feel it again.” — I desisted from my attempts, thinking the sight of the machine would affect her and make her complaisant. — “Feel it.” — “I shan't” and she laughed as I thought strangely. — “Do this,” said I, frigging it. — “I shan't, your behaviour is shameful.” — Then she went off into a hysterical peal of laughter.

A few more words and I closed on her, she retreated against the wall and our lascivious struggles recommenced. “I will.” — “You shan't.” I pulled her petticoats up to her knees, she pushed them down, spoke, she cried, but always in a low tone showing fear of surprise, which gave me courage, till my hand was on her thighs near to her cunt, when violently she dislodged it and cried loudly, — “Oh don't, you never shall — leave off — you will if you're a gentleman — oh — now — it's shameful, you take a mean advantage when there's no one to protect me.” — My fingers just felt the hair of her motte, as she pushed me off and burst into tears. “Remem — ber — I'm — ah — a lady — aha,” she sobbed, which touched me and I ceased.

But my prick was still out — I recollected what she'd already done and that she'd made no noise. I was wild with sexual passion, and after a second or two said, — “Feel it then.” — “Will you then leave off?” — “Yes.” — she took hold of it as I put it into her soft white hand, and as I felt its smoothness, and saw the ruby tip protrucing from her little fist and she looking down at the implement of female pleasure, I nearly spent. But intention again came of feeling her cunt, to get my fin-gers between the soft warm lips whilst she handled my pego. Then I had conflicting sensations. — Some one might come — was she virgin? She was a lady and my action was mean, and spite of my lust I hesitated and stood motionless, she holding my prick and looking in my face. — “Do what you did that afternoon.” — “I don't know what I did.” — “Do this,” and I passed her hand up and down my prick. She began slowly, how my prick reciprocated, I took her round the waist and kissed her cheek, whilst gently but clumsily she frigged, and thinking of her cunt, longing to fuck her, I murmured my desires for her in the baudiest language. “Oho! —You're dreadful,” said she. Then out spurted my sperm, I clutched her hand and held it in mine whilst withdrawing my prick through hers, so that the last of my spendings fell on her fingers. — It gave me the utmost lascivious delight to know it had wetted them, as I sighed. “That ought to be — aha — in your — cunt.”

She let go my prick, looked at me with wildly voluptuous eyes, then at her hand, then looked round to see if any one was near. — I'm sure from her look and manner that she was dying to be fucked, and had I been in condition perhaps might have attempted it, but my prick was shrinking. — She looked at it again, I wiped her fingers with my handkerchief, she let me do it not seeming to know what she was about, till, — “Oh — I'm so miserable — for God sake — never tell any one. — Will you now? — you brought me here for this — didn't you?” — I swore I'd never tell, and rap-idly and without another word we walked to the Hall. — “Where's my aunt?” — “Gone out in the carriage Sir, a few minutes ago.” — “Oh!” said Agatha, “I'm so sorry, tell her will you?” I shook hands with that hand which had had my sperm in it, and off she went. I told Aunt at dinner that we'd arrived just as she got out of sight. — “It's a pity, I'd have driven her home,” was all she replied.

Agatha never again gave me a chance of being alone even to speak with her, and I was mostly in London. — One night Fred and I, smoking in my chambers, our conversation fell on these girls, and little by little we disclosed to each other. He'd kissed them both and had tried to feel Helen unsuccessfully. — “Yet she wants fucking so.” — Agatha he'd also tried, and then I told him she'd frigged me. — “And so she did me at * * * * *,” said he, laughing and slapping his thigh. — Agatha had f rigged us both — I wonder how many other men she'd frigged.

When after my frigging we met the girls Agatha always looked enquiringly and seemed uncomfortable. Two or three years afterwards the family left the neighbourhood. I was then a poor man and rarely went to my aunt's, and Fred was abroad. [The episode occurred when I was about twenty-five, and the narrative was at one time nearly burnt.]

I had an acquaintance named * * * ** * *, who had a lovely creature for wife, blue eyed, very light chestnut hair, plump as a partridge and about twenty-six or -seven years old. She had given way to drinking, some said owing to domestic annoyance, but that has nothing to do with the episode.