e, and very elegant in her
carriage, and sat down on a low easy chair, throwing herself completely
back, and crossing one leg over the other, apparently without being
aware that she carried her petticoats up with the action, and exhibited
the beautiful underleg up to the garter.

I had never forgotten the day, when secreted in the closet, I had seen
them completely exposed, and how charming they were. Her present
negligent attitude, although far from the same exposure I speak of, was
still, with the former recollection running in my head, enough to set
my whole blood on fire. I have before remarked what a power beautiful
and well-stockinged legs, and ankles and small feet, had upon my
nervous system, and so it was now. As I gazed upon her handsome legs,
ankles, and feet, I felt my prick swell and throb in a manner that
could not fail to be perceptible to Mrs. B, especially as her head lay
on a level with that part of my person as I stood before her.

Although she continued knitting, I could see that her eyes were
directed to that part of my person, and fixed upon the increasing
distention of my trousers. In a few minutes she gave me a skein of
worsted to hold, and desired me to kneel in front of her, so as to
bring my hands down to the level of the low chair on which she was
seated.

I knelt close to the footstool on which her foot rested; it was raised
up, and a very slight movement brought it against my person, at first
rather below where my throbbing prick was distending my trousers. As
she commenced to wind her ball, she gradually pushed her foot further
forward, until the toe actually touched the knob of my cock, and
occasionally moved it right and left, exciting me beyond measure.

I flushed up to the very ears, and trembled so violently that I thought
I should have dropped the skein.

"My dear boy, what is the matter with you, that you blush and tremble
so, are you unwell?"

I could not answer, blushed more than ever. The skein at length was
finished.

"Charles," she said, "get up, and come here."

I rose and stood by her side.

"What have you got in your trousers that is moving?"

And here her busy fingers commenced unbuttoning them. Released from
confinement, out started my prick--stiff as iron, and as large as that
of a youth of eighteen. Indeed, I was better hung than one boy selected
out of five hundred of that age. Mrs. B., who had pretended to be
perfectly astonished, exclaimed--

"Good grac