s not his prick a big one?" She looked
on silently, I heard her breathing hard. I turned over picture after
picture. Suddenly she knocked the book out of my hand to the other side
of the room. "I won't see such things," said she. "Won't you look at it
by yourself?" "If you leave it here I'll burn it." "No you won't, you'll
take it to bed with you." There I left the book lying, it was open and
the frontispiece showing. "Look at her legs," said I, for we could see
the picture as we sat on the sofa; and I began to kiss and tickle her
again.

She shrieked, laughed, got away, and rushed to the door. I brought her
back, desisted from tickling and lewd talking, though I was getting
randier than ever. "Now have the garters,--let me put one round the
leg, just to see how it looks,--just half-way up the calf." After much
persuasion, after pulling up my trowsers, and showing how a garter
looked round my calf, she partly consented. "Promise me you won't tickle
me." I promised everything.

I dropped on one knee, she sat on the sofa. "Put one foot on my leg."
She put one foot there, and carefully raised her clothes an inch or
two above the boot-top. "A little higher." She raised it holding her
petticoats tight round the leg, and I slipped the garter round it. "It's
too loose, raise a little more." "I won't any higher,--I can see how it
looks." "Won't they look nice when they are above the knee? and won't
your young man be pleased when he sees them there." "My young man won't
see them any more than you will." "Let me slip on the other." The same
process, the same care on her part. She bestowed all her care on the
limb I was gartering, lest I should slip the garter higher up. The
remainder of her clothes were loose round her other leg. Then I pushed
my hand up her clothes and herself back on the sofa, relinquishing the
leg I was gartering.

Rapidly my hand felt thighs, hair, cunt, How wet! What is this which
catches my fingers?--what is it they are gliding between? With a yell
she pushed me away, and got up as I withdrew my fingers. She had a
napkin on, my fingers were stained red. "Oh, you beast," said she
bursting into tears. I caught hold of her, and began to tickle her; she
pushed me violently away, and escaping, rushed downstairs, slammed the
kitchen-door in my face, and locked herself in. I have been accustomed
to this behaviour on similar occasions.

I stood outside begging pardon, talking baudiness, I tried to burst open
t