MY SECRET LIFE
ing, and saying, “oh!” with a laugh, when she did so. She would belch without ceremony, blow her nose through her fingers, and I noticed she never washed her hands (whilst I was present at all events), when I had spent upon them. She would say, “How are your cods off for starch to-night ?” She was complaisant enough in letting me feel, would turn her backside round and let me fumble about it anyhow, but although want made me do what I did, it never seemed quite pleasant to me, and I disliked her. I never got a glimpse of her belly or cunt. If the front-kitchen was not dark enough, she moved to the back, before we began our pranks, and scrupulously avoided light. Her cunt I felt was a large one, but so far from having the quantity of hair I expected, she seemed scarcely to have any. One thing she did which annoyed me. After feeling my cock, she would slide her hands under the balls to my arse-hole which she would press hard with her middle-finger, giving a “tchick” with her tongue, at the same time.
All this took place in about six weeks. “Hush!” said she one night, “some one is listening.” I could hear nothing, but she whispered, “Go up to the garden.” I did. It was dusk, and I thought I saw a figure enter the garden parlour, just as I got up the garden stairs. All were out but me and the two servants. Cook at the same time went up the kitchen-stairs, calling out loudly, “Harriet, is Master at home, do you know?”
A few days afterwards when at our fun, we stood in the door jamb; Harriet was at the top of the house. Said cook, “If I push you hard by the shoulders, go out into the garden at once, without saying a word.”
It was nearly dark. The kitchen garden-door was shut,
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