My Secret Life

I went back to the fair and later on met outside it a very short girl, who seemed too respectable to be by herself and had her veil down. I spoke with her, found she was going my way, and walked with her. She knew my name, and where I lived. Two nights scrambling had not got me a poke, that I suppose made me bold enough to make advances to this modest, quiet girl; I stole a kiss, then another, then a hug, then a feel, and finally with scarcely any hindrance fucked her. We walked and talked when it was over, she would not tell me her name or address, nor give me a glimpse of her face; I fucked her again up against our own garden-wall, insisted on knowing where she lived, said I would walk till I saw, and did walk with her for about an hour. She said, “If you walk about all night you shall never know where I live, but you may do it again if you like, or I will meet you tomorrow, but I dare not let you see where I go.” I feared I could not poke again, so stopped to piss. She modestly walked on a little; I frigged my prick until the steam was up, then in her well moistened cunt consummated, and parted, promising to meet her the next night.

I looked at Sarah and Susan the next morning, took opportunity of reminding each of them that I had felt their cunts, bragged to each, that a young lady who lived close by had let me do it to her. The next night came, the unknown girl did not keep her appointment, and the followig morning found I had the clap. I never saw or heard of her again, nor know who the young lady who gave it to me. She was not a common domestic, I am sure.

This stopped me for a month, but the time was not all lost, for I indulged in baudy talk, and familiarized both servants with it, and the fact that they had felt me, and I them. The eldest used to look uncomfortable, Susan used to brazen it out with a bright roguish eye, that I then almost turned to her, especially as Sarah still wore black stockings; but then Sarah had such fat white thighs, and a larger bum.

When beter and I was again alone with Sarah on a Sunday morning, I got her on to a chair, pulled up her clothes all round, exposed her legs, showed her my prick, showed her the pictures in Fanny Hill, got her excited, but did nothing more. Another Sunday I tried it on unsuccessfully. The third Sunday going upstairs just after mother and Tom had gone to church, she said she was not going to be worried with me, and Susan would be at home. Susan had not I found gone to church as usual. Baulked, I was going out, but catching her in the hall, tried to pull up her clothes. She cried, “For God's sake don't, I would not let Susan hear for the world.” This confirmed me in what I had felt nearly certain of; the sisters did not tell each other of my games. I heard Susan say to her sister who had gone to the top of the house, “I shan't loose my outing, there is nothing the matter with you,” and out she went. The next minute down came Sarah; I stopped her on the landing, by my mother's room. “Now don't,” she began in a coaxing way, but I had not spent for weeks, and as I looked into her bright eyes and flushed face, meant that day to do so if I could. She must herself have wanted it, there was such a soft look about her. My reply was to try to pull up her clothes. We struggled, pushed against the door of mother's bed-room, and we staggered into the room together. Nothing could have been more favorable. I got her up against the bed, her clothes up, my prick against her belly, and there for a minute we struggled.