“Show me the photos again.” — I did, we looked over and talked about them. — Never have I seen a woman so eager to see baudy pictures, she feasted on them, looked through them again and again. Then she felt my prick and as she did so, I felt her cunt. The soothing influence of my fingers was felt, voluptuous sensations crept through her. Then she sought fuller ex- planations, turned and looked at me, as I spoke the baudiest words. I told her I'd seen a thousand cunts. — “Oh! impossible.” — Her interest became intense in cunts. — “Yes dear, and scarcely one exactly like the other.” “Do many show as much as mine?” — She looked confused as she asked and turned her eyes to the photos. “Oh many,” — which was a lie. So talking, looking at photos, explaining, telling her I had done all and seen all done which were pictured in the photos, she at last laid her head on my shoulder with a sigh. — She was lewed, ready to receive my prick up her again, and again let me lift up her chemise and admire her beauties. She seemed pleased to let me.
I was surprized to find her so fine a woman, well grown, plump, rather indeed inclining to stoutness. Her breasts were smallish but beautifully shaped, and with lovely pink nipples, larger and more prominent than is usual in virgins. The shape of her thighs was fine, they touched all the way to her knees, and the contour of her haunches was superb. Her little feel looked smaller and prettier when she was naked than when dressed, she was always displaying them enticingly when sitting, and wore shortish ,petticoats (not then fashionable) I believe to- show her feet.
Her cunt and motte, covered with hair of the darkest chestnut — the color of that on her head — was curly, close, and about the silkiest that I ever felt. It curled so round the soft plump lips, that the cleft was in shadow all but where large and thick nymphae and an unusually large clitoris protruded, forming a bunch which took three fingers to cover. Lower down the nymphae were soon lost in the cleft, and died away into the general surface of her cunt, but the large projec- tion like a big red poppy but partly opened, was to me very ugly, and spoiled what otherwise would have been a beautiful cunt. Was it always so, or was it the result of frigging herself? I never asked and shall never know — I swore that her cunt was lovely. She looked at me as if she didn't believe my praise. Had she seen other cunts?
I admired all, and indeed was enraptured with her unexpected beauty of form. — “Now you're nearly naked, be quite naked love, let's get into bed and talk.” — “I'm frightened.” — “Why? Your mother thinks you out — what folly.” — I stripped myself and stood close to her, feeling her cunt and lifting up her chemise, she holding my pego. “Let our flesh meet every-where, take it off, you shall, you must,” and I began taking off her chemise spite of her resistance. Then into bed rapidly she got to hide her beautiful nudity, I with her, and after cuddling, kissing, feeling every crack and cranny. — “Your stockings, — I cannot feel your legs,” — and in the bed I pulled those off. Both naked as we left our mothers' wombs I folded her in my arms. How exquisite is the embrace when man and woman are both naked, how the hands rove fndom knees to neck, and up and down and round, and into every cranny, armpits, bum furrow and cunt. Then our hands settled on the sacred implements of Venus, tongue played with tongue, all speech was lustful words, till I mounted her and fucked with prolonged rapture, sank into a sweet sleep and slept too long. “Oh! What will Mamma think!” With one feel up her gluey avenue I let her go. In greatest haste she dressed and left, stopping neither to wash or piddle. What would Mamma have said, had she known the condition of Edith's cunt?
At dinner I was intentionally placed near some friends who had arrived — distance from her we thought might help to lull suspicions if any arose. A chat with her for a minute in the reading room after-wards. — “Have you washed your cunt?” She nodded and smiled, then went to her mother, and at about eight o'clock came to my room again. Again we fucked and she went off in twenty minutes, leaving me a wee bit fatigued with my exercises.
Next morning I reflected — I had come to this city intending to stop two days, had already stopped four, and had deflorated a lady who seemed ready to risk anything to be fucked. I had suggested caution which in a degree she observed, but — “I don't care what becomes of me,” — said twice or thrice in a way as if social ruin stared her in the face, I didn't like. I could riot stop much longer, and didn't want to get home rucked out, poking twice or more day after day is more than I can stand now. So, tho her exquisite signs of sexual delight when I was up her, her burning kisses, voluptuous sighs, her intense lovingness whilst fucking, gave me the most exquisite enjoyment, I resolved to save my strength and health a little, and to leave.
