The day came, the coast was clear. In my shirt I stood waiting for my treat, had kissed and gamahuched her, and with difficulty restrained myself from fucking her. Her friend was an hour behind time. H. was fidgety and feared her letter hadn't reached him. A ring, followed by a peculiar knock at the street door was heard. — “It's he,” said she smiling baudily. before that, talking about him she said as if she enjoyed the idea, “Won't he have his cock full, he hasn't fucked for a fortnight.” — “Perhaps he has.” — “I'll swear he hasn't, he loves me, he'd wait a month for me and would marry me tomorrow, but what's the good, he can't keep himself, his family only allow him a pound a week — he'd wait to have me any length of time, and he cannot afford a woman.”
She had thrown a gown over her chemise, so as not to seem too ready — and ran down stairs to open the door to him herself. One of her servants had been sent out, and she had let me in herself — much maneuvering was now needed in her domicile. Fear of being caught out in intrigues is one of the miseries of ladies who play these pranks. — Leaning over the banisters I overheard much, he explained his delay, they kissed then. “My friend has just come.” — He was in her secrets and knew some one visited her. — “He is in my bedroom — don't make a noise.” — “I'll take my boots off.” - He did. — “There,” said she, “wait till I beckon you, I'll go up and see if his door is closed, he is fearful of Blank coming back.”
Upstairs she came, saw me on the landing and nodded. — In I went, closing my door and soon he was in the back bedroom. A few minutes after I was at their door as before. She was exciting him, feeling his prick, both sitting on the bed, his back to the door. Then they nearly stripped. — She said — “Stand up there, let me see it stiff.” — He complied like a child, obeyed her always I'd found — lifted his shirt, and I saw his powerful machine standing like a prop. — “You have fucked since you did me last.” — “I declare to God I haven't.” Then — “Oh let me do it, dear.” He went towards her, when a powerful gust of wind (it was a very windy day) blew-up the staircase, their door slightly moved, and caught his eye, he came and shut it, I retreated in fear seeing him advance, for had he opened the door he must have caught me. — I had I thought lost the spectacle of his fucking her.
But nothing exceeds the cunning of a Paphian. — Soon I heard her loudly calling out, “Mary, Mary.” — Up came the servant, who was told something and went down stairs. It was a dodge to open the door without his noticing it. Cautiously I'd opened mine and peeped. H. was just retiring and winked at me. Her door was now left ajar. — Again and almost directly after, I heard “hem,” as if clearing her throat — her signal; the next instant, I was at the door. He was laying on his back, his big prick stiff as a poker shadowing his navel, his left hand feeling her quim as she stood by the bedside and looking up at her affectionately. He thought not of the door, or of any thing else but her cunt. She handled his prick, then his balls for a minute. “Let's fuck naked” and she threw off her chemise, then he his shirt. She laid down beside him for a second, the next he mounted her, and I heard his sigh of pleasure as his prick went up her sex. Then on he went thrusting. — “Don't hurry,” said she — but he fucked hard. — “I must,” he sobbed in a gentle voice. — I was mindful of what H. had often said in our conversation, and what I now knew from experience, that a man in the full tide of sexual pleasure thinks of nothing else. — I opened the door slightly, then more, and entered the room as his thrusts grew quicker, saw in H's beautiful face that she was spending, heard, — “Aha —my darling — love — aha” — from him, then both were quiet. — I stood there till H. opened her eyes. Then closing the door ajar and standing with my prick nearly bursting, listened.
“I must go to him [me], he doesn't like to be left long — I'll tell him some excuse and come back soon — put on your shirt, stay here, don't make a noise.” — Out she came, shutting the door, smiling at me, holding her cunt as French harlots do — and I suppose all do under similar circumstances — and the next instant was lying on the bedside with thighs wide apart. Her quim over-flowing with thick sperm delighted me, the sight made me wild to enter the lubricated sheath, my prick bursting, yet I restrained myself, had sufficient control to do that which whilst waiting I'd resolved. I pulled open the lips, frigged her spermy clitoris, whilst talking baudily. “Did you see his prick?” — “Yes.” — Isn't it a fine one?” — “Yes.” — “He never fucked for a fortnight, look what he's spent, how thick it is.” - “Wash it and I'll fuck you,” said I, not wishing any-thing of the sort.
