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MY SECRET LIFE thought myself very cunning to manage to get such glimpses. On the landing I grappled with her for a pillow, and we rolled on the ﬂoor. I got my hand up her clothes, to her thighs, and felt the hair. “That’s your thing”, said I with a burst of courage. “Oh! oh!” she laughed, “what did you say?” “Your thing!” “My thing! what’s that?” “The hole at the bottom of your belly”, said I, ashamed at what I uttered. “What do you mean? who told you that? I've no hole.” It is strange but a fact, that I had no courage to say any more, but left off playing, and went down stairs.

On occasions afterwards, I played more roughly with her, and felt her thighs; but fear prevented me from going further up. She gave me lots of opportunities, which my timidity, prevented me from availing myself of. One day she said: “you are not game for much, although you are so big”, and then kissed me long and furiously, but I never saw her wants, nor my chances that I know of, though I see now plainly enough, that boy as I was, she wanted me to mount her.

About that time, how I got it, I know not, I had a book describing the diseases caused by sacrificing to Venus. The illustrations in the book, of faces covered with scabs, blotches, and eruptions, took such hold of my mind, that for twenty years afterwards, the fear was not quite eradicated. I showed them to some friends, and we all got scared. I had no definite idea of what syphillis, and gonnorrhea were, but that both were something awful, we all made up our minds. My godfather also used to hint now to me about ailments men got, by acquaintance with loose, bad, women; perhaps he put the book in my way. Frigging also was treated of, and the terrible accounts of people dying —71—