," I had
promised Louise. She looked amorously fascinating. "She won't know it, I
have never had it since I left." She was half reclining on the sofa, by
intention or chance her legs raised up on the sofa, one flat, the other
foot on its heel, exposing the recumbent limbs from foot to knee. "Do
now," said she. "No," but I moved from the chair to the end of the sofa,
and began stroking her leg with my hand.

She lifted the clothes just above the knee. I saw the large thigh
nearly up to her quim, my hand involuntarily slipped higher, and began
smoothing the flesh just above the garter. "Do it now," said she falling
right on to her back.

I thought of Louise, of my promise; I knew the look of both their
cunts,--of Camille's the best,--desired to see, to compare it. I had
been feeling Louise's cunt eight days, now thought I should like to feel
Camille's to feel the difference, I knew her cunt was looser, and more
hairy, her bum and thighs bigger, yet was I right in my comparison? my
cock got uneasy, I helped it to rise in my trowsers by giving it a push
outside.

"I won't have her," I thought, "but there is no harm in feeling," and
began playing with the hair of her motte. "Your hair is longer than
Louise's." She laughed, "Do it, baisez-moi," said she.

My fingers touched the slippery cunt, it was irresistible, the next
instant they were groping and feeling. "Your bum is bigger than
Louise's," I said. She laughed again.

Sitting where I was, and playing at stink-finger, my position was
inconvenient. "Come up closer," said she. Then I sat by her hips, on
the sofa-edge, she lifted her clothes right up: there was the quim, the
jet-black bush, the fine round thighs, my cock was restive, my hands
wandering, she unbuttoned my trowsers, gave my prick a squeeze, sending
up the blood and completed my randiness.

"Louise won't know, you shall kiss me," and she raised herself to throw
her arm over my shoulder. Like a young virgin who says, "no, no," whilst
she yields, I kept repeating "no, no". The thighs had opened, I was
pulling open the lips and trying to see the red inside; and still saying
"no," slid on to her, on to it, up it, and spent before I well knew what
I was about. "Oh! you are so quick," said she, "you have spoiled me, I
was just coming."

She did not mean to be spoiled, trying her most baudy endearments, she
held me tight, caressed me, as a French woman knows how,--better than
any other. Forgetting Louise, my