her cunt hair.
She, without any idea of having been exposed, helped down with her
box, I went into the parlor ashamed of having as I thought, been seen
looking.

I could thing of nothing else, and when she brought in tea, could not
take my eyes off her, it was the same at supper (we lead a simple life,
dining early and having supper). In the evening my mother remarked,
"that girl will do," I recollect feeling glad at heart.

I went to bed, thinking of what I had seen, and stared whenever I saw
her the next day, until by a sort of fascination, she used to stare at
me; in a day or two I fancied myself desperately in love with her, and
indeed was. I recollect now her features, as if I had only seen her
yesterday, and after the scores and scores of women I have fucked since,
recollect every circumstance attending my having her, as distinctly, as
if it only occurred last week; yet very many years have passed away.

She was a little over seventeen years, had ruddy lips, beautiful teeth,
darkish hair, hazel eyes, and a slightly turn-up nose, large shoulders
and breast, was plump, generally of fair height, and looked eighteen or
nineteen, her name was Charlotte.

I soon spoke to her kindly, by degrees became free in manner, at length
chucked her under her chin, pincher her arm, and used the familiarities
which nature teaches a man to use towards a woman. It was her business
to open the door, and help me off with my coat and boots if needful; one
day as she did so, her bum projecting upset me so, that as she rose from
stooping I caught and pinched her. All this was done with risk, for
my mother was then nearly always at home, and the house being small, a
noise was easily heard.

I was soon kissing her constantly. In a few days got a kiss in return,
that drove me wild, her cunt came constantly into my mind, all sorts
of wants, notions, and vague possibilities came across me; girls do let
fellows feel them I said to myself, I had already succeeded in that.
What if I tell that I have seen it outside? Will she tell my mother?
Will she let me feel her? What madness! Yet girls do let men, girls like
it so all my friends say. Wild with hopes and anticipations, coming in
doors one day, I caught her tightly in my arms, pulled her belly close
to mine, rubbed up against hers saying, "Charlotte, what would I
give, if you would..." it was all I dare say. Then I heard my mother's
bed-room door open, and I stopped.

Hugging and kissing