There was haymaking. We romped with the girl, buried each other in hay,
pulled each other out, and so on. I was buried in the hay and dragged
out by my legs by Fred and the girl. Then Fred was: then we buried the
girl, and as Fred pulled her out he threw up her clothes, I lay over her
head, which was covered with hay. Fred saw, winked and nodded. It came
to my turn again to be buried, and then hers; I laid hold of her legs
and pulling them from under the hay, saw her thighs, I pushed her knees
up, and had a glimpse of the slit, which was quite hairless. My aunt
and others were in the very field, but had no idea of the game we were
playing, the girl romping with us, had no idea, that we were looking at
her cunt, and an instantaneous peep only it was.
What effect sensuously, these glimpses of cunt, had on me, I don't know;
but have no recollection of sexual desire, nor of mine nor Fred's cock
being stiff. I expect that what with games, and our studies, that after
all the time we devoted to thinking about women, was not long, and
curiosity our sole motive in doing what we did. I clearly recollect our
talking at that time about fucking, and wondering if it were true or a
lie. We could repeat what we had read, and heard, but it still seemed
improbable to me that a cock should go up a cunt, and the result be a
child.
Then a passionate liking for females came over me; I fell in sort of
love with a lady who must have been forty, and had a sad feeling about
her, that is all I recollect. Then I began to follow servants about,
on the hope of seeing their legs, or seeing them piddle, or for some
undefined object: but that I was always looking after them, I know very
well.
Then (I know now) my father got into difficulties, we moved into a
smaller house, the governess went away, I was sent to another school,
one of my brothers and sisters died; my father went abroad to look after
some plantations, and after a year's absence came back and died,
leaving my mother, in what compared with our former condition, were poor
circumstances, but this in due course will be more fully told.
I think I went to school, though not long before what I am going to tell
of happened, but am not certain, if so, I must have seen boys frigging;
yet as far as I can arrange in my mind the order of events, I first saw
a boy doing that, in my own bed-room at home.
I was somewhere, I suppose, about thirteen years of age, when a distant
relative came from the country, to stay with us, until he was put to
some great school. He was the son of a clergyman, and must have been
fifteen, or perhaps sixteen years old, and was strongly pitted with the
small-pox. I had never seen him before, and took a strong dislike to
him; the family were poor, this boy was intended for a clergyman. I
was excessively annoyed, that he was to sleep with me, but in our small
house, there was just then no other place for him.
How many nights he slept in my bed, I don't recollect, it can have been
but few; One evening in bed he felt my prick; repulsing him at first, I
nevertheless afterwards felt his, and recollect our hands crossing each
other and our thighs being close together. Awaking one morning, I felt
his belly up against my rump, and his feeling or pushing his prick
against my arse, putting my hand back, I pushed him away; then I found
it pushing quickly backwards and forwards between my thighs, and his
hand, passed over my hips, was grasping my cock. Turning round, I faced
him; he asked me to turn round again, and said I might do it to him
afterwards, but nothing more was done. An unpleasant feeling about
sleeping with him is in my memory, but as said, I disliked him.
The next night undressing, he showed me his prick, stiff, as he sat
naked on a chair; it was an exceedingly long, but thin article; he told
me about frigging, and said he would frig me, if I would frig him. He
commenced moving his hand quickly up and down, on his prick, which got
stiffer and stiffer, he jerked up one leg, then the other, shut his eyes
and altogether looked so strange, that I thought he was going to have
a fit; then out spurted little pasty lumps, whilst he snorted, as some
people do in their sleep, and fell back in the chair with his eyes
closed; then I saw stuff running thinner over his knuckles. I was
strangely fascinated as I looked at him, and at what was on the carpet,
but half thought he was ill; he then told me it was great pleasure, and
was eloquent about it. Even now, as it did then, the evening seemed to
me a nasty unpleasant one, yet I let him get hold of my prick and frig
it, but had no sensation of pleasure, he said, "your skin won't come
off, what a funny prick;" that annoyed me, and I would not let him do
more; we talked till our candle burnt out; he stamped out the sperm on
the carpet, saying the servants would think we had been spitting. Then
we got into bed.
****
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