eam of desire; yet the idea of having her never
had entered my head, I should have chased it instantly. But from the
moment my hand lighted on the crisp thicket, reason left me, voluptuous
desire overwhelmed me: I forgot Fred, almost forgot Mabel.

Slowly, inch by inch, I moved myself half up and my arm over Mabel as
she lay, fearing it would wake her, and slid my finger down between
Laura's cunt-lips, and gently frigged, listening to Mabel's snoring,
and Laura's breathing. At length I must have produced a voluptuous
sensation, she got restless, and opened her thighs, moved, clasped my
hand, and in a peevish sleepy tone said, "Don't Mabel,--what are you
doing?"

"It's I"; I whispered frigging on. "Oh!" said she pushing my hand away.
"Oh! if you wake Mabel." She kept repulsing my hand saying "don't," I
replacing it. My hand frigging her clitoris.

She turned her backside towards Mabel, I then fumbled between her
bum-cheeks; but she was too far off. Slowly I got out of bed, and
feeling my way round the foot in the dark, I got to Laura's side. She
heard me. I put my mouth to her ear, "Let me dear," and thrusting my
hand under the clothes felt her cunt from motte to bum-hole. "Oh! no, if
Mabel--" Mabel's snoring reassured me. Little by little I uncovered
her, lifting off the clothes, got on to her, up her, and without a
word, without a whisper, without resistance or denial we fucked gently,
pausing at intervals to listen, hiding our emotions and pleasures as we
spent, Laura's flanks and my hand close to Mabel's rump, my leg almost
touching Mabel's leg, she still snoring like a pig.

"Go," said Laura, her mouth to my ear, and un-cunting me. Quietly,
without reply, I got off, and back again crept stealthily to Mabel's
side, and at the very moment that I was lifting the bed-clothes Mabel
awoke, and said directly, "what are you getting up for?--where are you
going?"

I was for a moment at my wits' end. "Where is the pot?" said I. "Under
the bed," said Mabel. "Laura!" Laura did not answer, and breathed
heavily. I pissed, and got into bed. It was a close fit. Mabel took hold
of my prick. "It's wet," said she drowsily. Down went my hand, the hairs
were wet and sticky. Mabel was too sleepy to notice what the wet was,
yet I feared. "Turn on your back dear," said I. She did. I got on her,
and put my prick in though not stiff. "Don't,--I'm tired,--wait till
morning,--get off, Laura will hear." "Here is a lark," thought I, and
go