Soon after her friends were set down, and we were alone.

There was not more than ten minutes' drive before me. I knew that well. Though only in the suburbs, we were past gas-lamps. Occasional oil-lamps gave a feeble light. It had now become a slightly foggy night. In a delirium of desire, no sooner was the footman on the box than I placed myself beside her. She was trembling with expectation of what was to come. I hugged her waist and hips, and thrust my hand up her clothes. “Now don't forget yourself, or me, — for God's sake. — what have I done! — what have I said! — it serves me right, — now pray, — if you are a gentleman you won't, — oh! now — don't forget your honour, or mine, — I won't consent, — no never, — never, — oh! this is indecent, — for God's sake don't now, — you sh-a-n-'t, — I'll pull the check-string.”

“Kiss me my darling, we are both unhappy, — it is no fault of ours, — let me now, — we love each other, — let us, — how smooth your flesh is, — oh! God let me feel your cunt, — open your thighs, — let me fuck you, — I will, — I swear I will.” “What language, — I won't, — no, — no, — no, — I say, — you are taking a shameful advantage of me, — oh! if the footman should look down, — oh! don't — o — ho! — o — ho!” She thrilled under my titillation of her cunt, her breath came short, her head sunk on my shoulder, and she was speechless. Then her thighs opened quite wide, my lust and passion had entered her, conquered her, she was helpless, defenceless, and abandoned herself to me. Furious to have her at once, I said no more, nor she.

I pulled out my prick, and put her hand to it, — there she left it. A strange idea passed through my brain. “What if I fuck her, and she gets with child!” This whilst I moved her off my shoulder, and leant her back in the corner of the carriage. Rapidly I freed my prick and testicles from my trousers, and dropped down on my knees between the carriage-seats, threw up her clothes, and kissed her thighs and cunt. The perfume overwhelmed me. I felt its moisture. But she was too far back on the seat for my prick to reach her. Then Heaven knows how I managed it, but I did. Kissing her cunt, I slid both hands round her bum, and pulled her forward. She let me do it all without a struggle, without a word. Her cunt was soon at the edge of the seat, her thighs wide open. I pushed my prick to-ward it, and touched it. It was so stiff, I could not bend it, to get it up her. It slipped away as the carriage jolted, and knocked against my own belly. Then I half raised myself, how I can't describe, I don't know, but I was leaning partly over her, and raising one of her thighs whilst I guided my prick right up her lovely orifice, to have it jolted out the next instant by the roll of the carriage. Again I put it in, again it came nearly out, I holding one thigh, my other hand resting on the seat, and half supporting me, my legs cramped, and both of us in such a position as to make fucking as difficult as possible, indeed almost impossible.

But a prick will get itself into a willing cunt, be the difficulty ever so great. Somehow I got her more for-ward, myself at a better slope. I felt her clitoris, and pressing down my prick so as to move under my fin-gers, it slid toward her bum-furrow, then back, then forward again as the carriage moved. She let me do what I liked, but did nothing to help me. She was a lifeless log, thighs wide apart, cunt gaping and reeking with the sweat of the dance and lewedness; her passions fully roused, faint with desire, bashfulness, and fear, she yielded herself up, but did not help. At length my prick with one thrust went full up her cunt, I clasped her somewhere like a vice to keep our genitals joined, the movement of the carriage did nearly the rest. It was a rapid wriggle, my only fear that my prick would be dislodged again. “Oh! God I'm spending my d — ar — h — ling.” My prick moved vigorously up and down her cunt, she gave one loud pro-longed cry, half sigh of pleasure, and with a grip of her cunt, and a heave of her haunches, I knew she had spent with me — and just then an infernal jolt of the coach dislodged my prick almost before I had quite finished spending.

“You've spent my darling, — I've fucked you, — you are delicious, — haven't you spent!” I sat by her side holding my reeking prick, feeling her gluey, sperm-slabbered cunt, and pushed my mouth aginst hers, my tongue into it. Oh! the exquisite delight of those few minutes. My brain had whirled from the moment her friends had left us alone; it whirled still with subdued delight now that I had had her. I could not forget it, and for a minute went on talking.

I pulled down her clothes, she did not attempt to do so herself. “My darling why did you not help me?” No reply. “You'll forgive me, won't you, — I love you so, — I could not help it.” Not a word. She lay with her eyes closed back in the carriage, breathing hard, violently, but speechless, exhausted by excitement, fear, and a medley of sensations which deprived her of movement or utterance.

“We are just home, — for God's sake rouse yourself.” With a start she pulled a lace shawl over her head, but made no reply. The carriage stopped, I got out, and saw her to the door. “Can I offer you anything?” said she. “No thank you, — may your man drive me home?” “Certainly.” “Good night.” “Is Mr. Y**s-* * *e at home?” “Yes Ma'am, and abed,” said the footman. Off I went desiring politely to be remembered to Mr. Y***s***e, not forgetting the habits of a gentleman, nor she those of a lady, for she desired her compliments to my wife, and to say she was so sorry she had not seen her at the ball.

The footman closed the door. I had folded the cloak I then wore over my trowsers, which in the hurry were not properly closed. I buttoned them up in the carriage as I was driven home.

That night she slept by herself, her husband had been lifted into bed too drunk to undress himself. He had not fucked her for three months, and had had the clap in the interim; — is it to be wondered that she succumbed to me! I knew this afterward from her.

Chapter V

The boudoir next day. • On the sofa. • A dull dinner. • Assignations. • The linendraper's shop with two fronts. • The house in T***f***d Street with two entrances. • Consummation. • A chaste-minded adultress. • The consequences.

I passed a restless night wondering at all that had occurred so unpremeditated, so successful, and yet half a failure at the last moment; for my spend was scarcely finished in her. The next day I called. She was unwell, and could see no one. Had she taken cold? Yes, the servant thought so, she had been ill all night, and could see no one. It was a maid that opened the door who said this, and not a footman. Was Mr. Y***s***e at home? No. I did not desire to disturb her, but I had a pressing message from my wife, and should much like to give it instead of my wife writing it, if she would but see me for a minute only, — it was a matter of some importance. “Mistress has seen no one sir, she has been so ill, — she has not been long up, — but I will ask.”

I waited in a small morning-room. Half an hour passed, the maid at length appeared, and showed me into the drawing-room. My heart was beating. Mrs. Y***s***e was seated in an easy-chair, the fire was burning with a red heat, dusk was coming on. I offered my hand, she put hers out coldly. “I am ill — what is the message you have for me?” “None, you know I have none — it was only to see you, to beg your pardon, to say I could not control myself.” “That will do — not another word about what you have done, I have permitted enough to be done, to let you think you can do what you like here.” I did not know at this cold treatment what to do, what to say to her, and was silent.

“I'm distressing you,” at length I said, “so I had bet-ter go.” “You came to distress me, for you knew you would,” she replied. “I never was cruel to a woman in my life,” I said. “Indeed, — your wife gives a different version.” “Does she? — most likely, — it's to her interest to blacken me, — it saves her own reputation.” “All you men are the same, — you might have a happier home if you were truer to your wife.” “It's false, she is not fit for a wife, nor could she make any one happy — I might as well say it's your fault that Mr. Y***s***e is what he is.” “He! — if I were to tell you all I suffer, it would make your hair stand on end.” “And I, if I told you all about my home, you would pity me. Listen.”