She stood not attempting to undress. “Take off your things.” — “All?” — “Yes.” — She did partially then stopped. — “Get naked.” — “Are you going to be naked?” — “Yes.” — “Oho.” — She went on undressing slowly, there was no fire in the room and it being coldish I said “Keep your chemise on.” — “Thank you, sir,” said she — at which I laughed, and at that she looked astonished.
I had undressed much quicker and when in shirt held it up, proud of my prick which was in grand erection. She stood staring at it without speaking — I closed on her and put my hand between her thighs. — “Oh wait” — said she — and was soon on the bed in chemise, which I pulled up to her navel, and saw a finely made woman twenty-two years old, — she said. — She'd a lovely motte delicately covered with short crisp hair of the color of ginger, but brighter. I opened her thighs and saw one of the prettiest of cunts, delicately lipped, and with the prettiest little crisp curls part of the way down them, slightly divided part of its length by a vermillion stripe which was just obtruding. I laid by her side, fingered the soft red stripe, intruded my finger, could scarcely find an opening, and when I did it seemed so tight to my finger. “You have a very little cunt.” — “Have I?”
Surrendering herself I got her to the bed side to see better, and opening wider her thighs, saw that the vagina's mouth looked like a young girl's. I put one finger, then two up it, delighted with the novelty — for nothing is so entrancing, soul absorbing as novelty in cunt — questioning, asking without reply, till at length. “I'm all right made sir.” Then on the bed I kissed all over her well formed, plump white fleshed body, nestling my mouth in her motte, sniffing its atmosphere. Then pressing myself close to it, putting her hand round my pego, kissing her lips, I frigged a neat little clitoris till she sighed with voluptuous thrills.
Silently turning on to her belly, - how instinctively a woman turns on to her back as the male presses against her — pulling up shirt and chemise, getting the fullest contact of naked flesh — that delicious sensation — my thighs settled between hers, my pego rubbed in the crisp thicket on her motte till my hairs mingled with hers, I guided the ruby tip to her cuntal entrance. Slowly at first my prick glided up the tight avenue, and then a vigorous thrust lodged it by her womb. Up and down now I lunged it, smoother and softer the channel seemed, a minute's luscious movements only. Aha, God! — what a tight grip yet lubriciously soft, how delicious a sensation on my gland which seemed dissolving into the folds of the channel. — “Oho — har” — she sighed, our buttocks trembled, my prick wriggled at the goal, a spasm of pleasure, my prick throbs, and out jets my sperm as our tongues meet and the volup- tuous paradisical swooning left us tranquil in dreamy pleasure, cunt and prick completing their work without our will. What an angel seems a woman during this orgasm of love, this sexual mingling. As my sperm rises I love her, could drink her piss, her blood, so do I long to be incorporate with her, be with her one in body and soul.
The brain returns to its normal state, the anticipation and anxieties of love return, when the heavenly pleasure has passed. — “Let me wash.” — “No, don't move” — and I clasped her buttocks firmly, pressing my motte to hers, squeezing my prick into her cunt. — “Do, I'm so frightened of getting in the family way, I'm going to service again” and she uncunted me as a woman with a retrograde jerk of her bum can, when the prick is shrinking in her.
She washed whilst I lay asking how she managed to get the sperm out. — Was it really so small, she asked — one gentleman had said it was. Then as it was cool, and the sheets looked questionable, we covered our-selves with the blankets and talked, she had laid down after ablution as if she expected to be fucked again.
