go. That aroused me, and I stopped her.

"Let me go." "No." "If Mistress comes home--" "She won't." "She may."
"No,--I've fucked you,--you thought I was not a man, did you not?" "Do
let me go." "Come up again then." "Well presently." "You are going to
wash your cunt." "Hush Master." "You shant go." "Now let me." "Kiss
me then." We kissed and kissed. Could I do it again? The idea of her
moistened cunt inflamed me, I pulled her back, thrust my fingers on to
her cunt spite of her resistance, and never shall I forget the feel
of that and her thighs. "It's dirty of you," said Mary, and disengaged
herself she rushed downstairs. I followed her into the back-kitchen,
were she washed her quim in a wooden bowl, but did not dry it. I chaffed
her, then we went into the front-kitchen, sat down, and looked at each
other without speaking, like two amorous cats, she blushing, and turning
down her eyes as if she guessed what was in my mind. At length I blurted
out what was there, I always did it till much later in life, and I had
grown wiser. "You've had it done to you before to-day." "Oh!" said
she starting up, then sitting down again, and bursting into tears, "Of
course I have,--poor fellow,--poor fellow,--why did he leave me!"

Embarrassed and sorry at such a consequence of my speech, I tried a few
words of comfort. She dried up her tears, and began her household work.
I followed her about, talking, kissing, and putting my hand up her
clothes, until in due time we adjourned to the parlour, and then again I
fucked her, this time on the hearth-rug, the sofa-squab under her head,
the sofa was too small for comfort.

Time was before us, all seemed delicious, the domesticity of the amorous
amusements, the passion with which she returned my embraces, her
modesty and enjoyment were all so like the days when I fucked my mothers
servants. The difference between her sensuous embraces and the matter of
fact fucking at five shillings a head I had been so long accustomed
to, overwhelmed me with gratification. We had tea. Then as I had had no
dinner, and there was none for me, I ate bread and cheese, and opened a
bottle of port-wine, and in an hour we fucked again, and again. At nine
o'clock she had supper, and we fucked after it. She sat on my lap, I
played with her cunt, she with my prick, and we kissed till our lips
were sore. But nothing would induce her to let me see her limbs, nor do
more than feel her cunt, and take my pleasure in it.