ould go out, and get a
woman; and off Laura went. Fred wanted a fuck before he went to sleep.

Mabel and I sat talking, both heated and randy. It got colder, she got
sleepy, I would not let her go, so she laid on the sofa. I drew a chair
to her side, and both drinking whiskey and water time rolled on. "Oh! I
wish I were Fred," said I. "Why?" "Because he is between Laura's thighs,
belly to belly, how warm, how delicious this cold night." "Oh! for
shame!" "Nonsense my dear, quite natural and proper, we are made to keep
each other warm, and give each other pleasure." "When we're married,"
said she. "Married,--pough!--then millions would never taste the
pleasure." My words grew warmer, I kissed, and was kissed, edged myself
on to the sofa, little by little felt my way from her ankles to her
thighs, and behold me smothering her with kisses, with my hand on her
cunt, her hand on my prick.

A modest woman will let you take liberties much more readily if you kiss
her whilst taking them. Sit at the foot of a girl on a sofa, and try
to force your hand up her clothes, she may resist you; sit close by her
side, bend over her, kiss her, and at the same time your hand may find
its way to her cunt, almost without hindrance.

So was it now. Mabel was scarcely modest. I recollect the conviction
coming over me that she was no virgin, and if I had doubts before, the
way my finger slipped from her clitoris up the love-pit and plugged it,
confirmed them. She lay with her eyes fixed on me, palpitating gently
with voluptuousness. Her petticoats up to her knees, I saw legs in black
stockings, one in wrinkles, the other half-way bagging down the calf,
and her feet in shabby slippers.

I had at that time a horror of black stockings, which affected me at
times so much as to deprive me of all desire. Once with a gay woman who
had black stockings I was unable to poke her, spite of her blandishment,
till she put white ones on. As I now saw Mabel's legs a disgust came
over me, desire left me, and my prick began to shrink; I may have been
tired, or had had my sperm drawn too much the night previously; that is
likely enough, I don't recollect; but know I got nervous, a fear lest
she should doubt my manhood, a sense of shame overcame me. I tried to
rally, but in vain, for once that nervousness on me, it vanquished me.
I ceased to probe her quim with my finger, my prick shrunk out of her
hand, and the titillation ceasing, Mabel turned away her eyes,