day I fucked her. We were both in great anxiety,
but did nothing to help it. Sunday morning usually passed this way.
Directly they had all gone to church, up came Sarah to mother's room
or into the garden parlour, there I looked at her belly to see if it was
bigger, then she had a crying fit, then we fucked, then she went down to
see after the meat roasting, then generally we had another fuck, and
all was over for that day; for my prick usually came out of her not long
before Susan rang the bell to be let in.

At length her state began to show, her mother just then was very ill and
wrote to her, she made this an excuse for asking to go home, intending
to try when there to get rid of her encumbrance. My mother with great
objection let her go, for she liked her. For one or two weeks before she
left someone or other had stopped at home on Sundays, so I was balked
in getting ar her, and only did it once to her in nearly a month. I
gave her what money I could to help her; a charwoman came to work in her
absence; it was arranged that her sister should do most of her work as
well as her own, as far as she could.

My mind reverted to what Sarah had told me about her sister. Would she
not like a doodle up her again I how she must long for a man, I used to
think. She nearly let me coming from the fair, what if I tried again.
Then I thought how wrong it was, seeing what I had done to her sister.
But back again the desire came, I grew randier. "I won't try her on
account of her sister," thought I, "but there will be no harm in larking
with her."

So I began and reminded her of the night of the fair, told her I knew
that the hair of her motte was dark, by degrees got her to kiss me, to
leave off chaffing her, felt her outside, but went no further. About the
fourth day after her sister had left, I got my hands on her thigh. On
Sunday when all were at church: to blind my mother I had gone out, but
went home directly, and into the kitchen to resume my baudy chaff, I
forgot all about her sister, got to kissing and trying to feel her. I
was long in the kitchen with my prick out, sometimes hanging, sometimes
standing stiff, trying to induce her to let me, but it was of no use.
Her cap was off, her hair dishevelled. I had got her clothes once up
to her hips, had seen her motte, felt it, got my prick up against it,
knocked it about all over her belly, but no more; time was short, and at
last with a sort of guilty fear I went out before ch