It was getting dusk, I sat on the sofa in a state of pleasure, smelling
my fingers. Tom began to howl, she came down and took him up to pacify
him, I followed her down to the kitchen, she called me an insolent
boy (an awful taunt to me then), threatened to tell my mother, to give
notice and leave, and left the kitchen, followed by me about the house;
talking baudily,
telling her how I liked the smell of my fingers, attempting to put my
hand up her clothes, sometimes succeeding, pulling out my ballocks, and
never ceasing until the cook came home, having been at this game for
hours. In a sudden funk, I begged Charlotte to tell my mother, that I
had only come home just before the cook, and had got to be unwell; she
replying she would tell my mother the truth, and nothing else. I was in
my bed-room before cook was let in.
Mother came home later, I was in a fright having laid in bed cooling
down, and thinking of possible consequences; heard the street-door
knocker, got out of bed, and in my night-shirt went half way downstairs
listening. To my relief, I heard Charlotte in answer to my mother's
enquiry, say I had come home about an hour before, and had gone to bed
unwell. My mother came to my room, saying how sorry she was.
For a few days I was in fear, but it gradually wore off, as I found she
had not told; our kissing recommenced, my boldness increased, my talk
ran now freely on her legs, her bum, and her cunt, she ceased to notice
it, beyond saying she hated such talk, and at length she smiled in spite
of herself. Our kissing grew more fervid, she resisted improper action
of my hand, but we used to stand with our lips close together for
minutes at a time, when we got the chance, I holding her to me as close
as wax. One day cook was upstairs, mother in her bed-room, I pushed
Charlotte up against the wall in the kitchen, and pulled up her clothes,
scarcely with resistance; just then my mother rang, I skipped up into
the garden, and got into the parlour that way, soon heard my mother
calling to me to fetch water, Charlotte was in hysterics at the foot
of the stairs--after that, she frequently had hysterics, till a certain
event occurred.
My chances were chiefly on Saturdays, a day I did not go to college;
soon I was to cease going there, and was to prepare for the army.
I came home one day, when I knew Charlotte would be alone--the cook was
upstairs--I got her on to the sofa in the garden parlour, knelt and
put my hands between her thighs, with less resistance than before, she
struggled slightly but made no noise. She kissed me as she asked me to
take away my hand; I could move it more easily on her quim, which I did
not fail to do; she was wonderfully quiet. Suddenly I became conscious
that she was looking me full in the face, with a peculiar expression,
her eyes very wide open, then shutting them. "Oho--oho," she said with
a prolonged sigh, "do--oh take away--oh--your hand, Walter dear,--oh I
shall be ill,--oho,--oho," then her head dropped down over my shoulder
as I knelt in front of her; at the same moment, her thighs seemed to
open slightly, then shut, then with a quivering, shuddering motion, as
it then seemed to me, and then she was quite quiet.
I pushed my hand further in, or rather on, for although I thought I had
it up the cunt, I really was only between the lips--I know that now.
With a sudden start she rose up, pushed me off, snatched up Tom from the
floor, and rushed upstairs. My fingers were quite wet. For two or three
days afterwards, she avoided my eyes and looked bashful, I could not
make it out, and it was only months afterwards, that I knew, that the
movement of my fingers on her clitoris had made her spend. Without
knowing indeed then that such a thing was possible, I had frigged her.
Although for about three months, I had been thus deliciously amusing
myself, anxious to feel, and see her cunt, and though I had at last
asked her to let me fuck her; I really don't think I had any definite
expectation of doing it to her. I guessed now at its mutual pleasures,
and so forth, yet my doing it to her appeared beyond me; but urged on by
my love for the girl--for I did love her--as well as by sexual instinct,
I determined to try. I also was quickened by my college friend, who had
seen Charlotte at our house and not knowing it was the girl I had spoken
to him about, said to me, "What a nice girl that maid of yours is, I
mean to get over her, I shall wait for her after church next Sunday, she
sits in your pew I know." I asked him some questions,--his opinion was
that most girls would let a young fellow fuck them, if pressed and that
she would (this youth was but about eighteen years old), and I left him
fearing what he said was true, hating and jealous of him to excess. He
set me thinking, why should not I do it if he could, and if what he said
about girls was true,--so I determined to try it on, and by luck did so
earlier than I expected.
About one hour's walk from us, was the town house of an aunt, the
richest of our family, and one of my mother's sisters. She alone now
supplied me with what money I had, my mother gave me next to nothing.
I went to see aunt, who asked me to tell my mother, to come and spend
a day with her, the next week, and named the day. I forgot this until
three days afterwards, when hearing my mother tell the cook, she could
go out for a whole holiday! I said, that my aunt particularly wished
to see mother on that day. My mother scolded me for not having told her
sooner, but wrote and arranged to go, forgetting the cook's holiday.
To my intense joy, on that day she took brother Tom with her, saying to
Charlotte, "You will have nothing to think of, but the house, shut it
up early, and do not be frightened." I was as usual to fetch my mother
home.
In what an agitated state I passed that morning at school, and in the
afternoon went home, trembling at my intentions. Charlotte's eyes opened
with astonishment at seeing me. Was I not going to fetch my mother?
I was not going till night. There was no food in the house, and I had
better go to my aunt's for dinner. I knew there was cold meat, and made
her lay the cloth in the kitchen. To make sure, I asked if cook was
out,--yes, she was, but would be home soon. I knew that she stopped
out till ten o'clock on her holidays. The girl was agitated with some
undefined idea of what might take place, we kissed and hugged, but she
did not like even that, I saw.
****
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