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MY SECRET LIFE More so than she had ever looked, was she beautiful to me, success made me bold, on I went insisting, she seemed too weak to withstand me. “Don't, oh pray, don’t,” was all she said as pushing her well on the bed, I threw myself on her, and again put my doodle on to the slit now wet with my sperm. I was though cooler, still as a poker, but my sperm was not so ready to flow, as it was in after days, at a second poke, for I was very young; but nature did all for me; my prick went to the proper channel, there stopped by something it battered furiously. “Oh, you hurt, oh!” she cried aloud. The next instant something seemed to tighten round its knob, another furious thrust,—another,—a sharp cry of pain (resistance was gone), and my prick was buried up her, I felt that it was done, and that before I had spent outside of her. I looked at her, she was quiet, her cunt seemed to close on my prick, I put my hand down, and felt round. What rapture to find my machine buried; nothing but the balls to be touched, and her cunt hair wetted with my sperm, mingling and clinging to mine; in another minute nature urged a crisis, and I spent in a virgin cunt, my prick virgin also. Thus ended my first fuck.

My prick was still up her, when we heard a loud knock; both started up in terror, I was speechless. “My God‘, it is your mamma!” Another loud knock. What a relief, it was the postman. To rush downstairs, and open the door was the work of a minute. “I thought you were all out,” said he angrily, “I have knocked three times.” “We were in the garden,” said I. He looked queerly at me and said, “With your boots off!” and grinning went away. I went up again, found her sitting on the side of the bed, and there we sat —102—