I fucked Whiteteeth in the meadow one night again. We selected a field
further off, which led to another bit of luck. She had left me, and I
was stepping quietly, so that if met, no one might suppose we had been
together; when I heard on the other side of a hedge, movements, and the
voices of a male and female. They sat down within a few feet of where I
was. I only heard imperfectly, and tell as well as I could gather what
was said.
"I can't stay," said she, "mother will be after me,--she don't know I am
out of the yard." A kiss,--many kisses,--a scuffle,--"be quiet,"--then
all was a mumble. Then "I won't,--I won't,--never again,--you shant."
"Hush!" said he, "suppose some one is near." "Do let's feel it,--let's
do it," said the male, "do it once, do it twice, it's all the same once
done." I kept as quiet as death.
"No" (here something I could not catch),--"no,--it warn't no pleasure to
me,--I've been crying ever since,--you won't marry me after all I dare
say, though I let you do it." "So help me God I will, I'll marry you."
He swore quite loudly. "Hish!" "Mother won't let us, she hates you." The
female whimpered, then was mumbling, kissing, soothing, quietness,
then all of a sudden, "Oh! you're hurting me with your fingers."
"Hish!--hish!--be quiet!" Then I could hear nothing;--then, "No, I'll
be getting in a mess like Bess." Said the man half angrily, "She were a
fool, she needn't a had a child; I knows a mother who can stop any gal
having a child." "Now don't,--oh! it hurts,--no,--oh!--hoe!" The voices
sank; kisses came a slight rustling, and all was quiet.
Then I heard broken words from both, but in a subdued voice "I'll never
let you no more," said the female, "you go that way." Kiss, kiss, and
the cut off, the female towards the gate I had entered the field by, he
across the fields. She piddled, and waited till he had gone. Dodging
her I moved after her, and saw her enter the farm-yard, but could not
identify her. It must be Molly I was sure, no other female at that time
was likely to enter there. Why Molly has been fucked!
Next day I asked nursemaid about Molly. "Oh! that's why you go to the
farm so often," said she laughing jealously. "She's a good girl, her
mother looks after her sharp."
I had most difficulty in getting Pender. She would not go into the privy
again. I fucked her once or so in the barn, but at railroad pace;
both anxious, the fuck barely worth having. "I'll go to mother's next
Sunday," said she. "If P go to the Red Lion on Saturday night, I'll be
outside in the lane." We met in the lane, but I could only get a
feel, and arrange about Sunday. "I'll go to mother's at ------" (the
market-town), "if the day be fine; P. won't come, he don't like mother,
or he'll only come in the evening."
On Sunday I rode to the town, passing Pender on the road in her Sunday
finery, went to a lane where was an ale-house and bakery below, a baudy
house above, and took a room (Fred told me of the place years before).
Pender went to her mother's, and so soon as people were in church came
to the appointed corner. I kept well ahead of her, entered the house,
and after hesitating at the door in she came after me.
"How could you be such a fool as to walk about outside like that?" said
I angrily, for I had feared she would not enter. "I was frightened,"
she replied, "and oh! I must get back to mother's by dinner-time at one,
when the Publics and the bake-houses open."
It was a delicious day, and beats in my recollection many others of
fevered enjoyment. Little by little I stropped a tall, fine, stout,
healthy, country woman, a regular spanker; with white flesh, firm, soft
satiny and smelling like new milk. She was bashful without affection,
ashamed to expose her charms, yet proud to do so to me. She was clad in
snow-white coarse linen, neat and clean from her boots to her head.
What enjoyment we had! how we spent! I fucked her three times before
the dinner-hour, my prick or my finger was in her cunt for an hour and a
half.
At half-past twelve off she went; in less than two hours back she came.
She had said that a friend of hers was ill, and she had promised to sit
with her (a woman cocking is never at loss for a lie). It was raining.
The umbrella helped to hide her, but she was nervous about being seen. I
had dinner at the house, the woman cooked well; the keepers were really
small traders who did not mind their rooms being used for love-making,
and had none of the dirty tricks of a London baudy house keeper. He
fetched me a bottle of good sherry.
I got as lewd as could be, and to her astonishment turned her face
against the bed, threw up her clothes and had her with my belly
against her rump. I shall never forget the comicality of that fuck,
her protesting against it, and her wonderment at such an attitude. The
novelty upset her.
I don't recollect much more what I did, but it was an afternoon of baudy
teaching on my part, of confidences on hers; it was the first time we
had a chat together on general matters. Speaking of her husband she
said, "Why you have done it as much almost as he has done since we have
been married." "What in a year?" "Yes, we were married several weeks
afore he did it at all, so I told mother, and that's why he don't like
her."
She was warmed with wine, we were on the bed cuddling, my fingers at
work on her clitoris, we were enjoying each other's nakedness. I pressed
her to tell me more, and now narrate briefly what I heard of her first
fuck, her grievances and troubles.
"After I spoke to mother, mother said to him, 'You don't want a wife
much Mr. Pender, I think.' 'Why of course I do, I should not have
married had I not.' 'Well it don't seem like it', said mother. Then
Pender said, 'You mind your own business mother, or you'll make it hot
for your daughter', and with that he went out, and slammed the door.
Mother did not like to say any more, for fear he would ill-treat
Soon after he said, 'What have you been saying to your mother?'
'Nothing', I answered. He looked queer, and still he did not do anything
to me for some time.'
"When I was in bed I used to lay and cry, he'd say, 'What are you crying
about woman?' but I never told.
"After that one night he took my hand, put it on his thing and said,
'Feel that lass.' Then he felt all round me you know', said Mrs. P.
laughing, 'and he had never done that before,--and with no more ado
he got atop and said, 'Not don't be a fool', and then he did it,--and
that's all," said Mrs. Pender describing her first marital poke,--the
real beginning of her married life,--as she laid side by side by me,
with my prick in her hand.