e pressed both hands down
on to her thighs, barring further investigation. "Now, Wattie, you're
taking too much liberty, because I've let you feel my ankles." I whined,
I moaned. "Oh do dear, do, kiss me dear; only for a minute." I tried
very gently to push my hand (it was my left hand) further. "What do you
want?" "I want to feel it, oh! kiss me--let me,--do,--Betsy, do," and I
raised my head.

Sitting bent forward towards me as I lay, until she was nearly double,
she put her lips to mine and kissing me said: "What a rude, boy you are,
what do you expect to find?" "I know what it's called, and it's hairy,
isn't it, dear?" Her hands relaxed, she laughed, my left hand slid up,
until I felt the bottom of her belly. I could only twiddle my fingers
in the hair, could feel no split, or hole, was too excited to think, too
ignorant of the nature of the female article; but oh the intense delight
I felt at the touch of the warm thighs, and the hair, which now I knew
was outside the cunt, somewhere, I recollect my delight perfectly.

She kept on kissing me, saying in a whisper, "what a rude boy you are."
Then I whispered modestly, all I had read, told of the Aristotle I had
hidden in my cupboard, and she asked me to lend her the book. I touched
nothing but hair, her thighs must have been quite closed, and a big
stay-bone dug into my hand and hurt it, as I moved it about. I have felt
that obstacle to my enterprise in years later on, with other women.

Then came over me a voluptuous sensation, as if I was fainting with
pleasure, I seem to have a dream of her lips meeting mine, of her saying
oh! for shame I of the tips of my fingers entangling in hair, of the
warmth of the flesh of her thighs upon my hand, of a sense of moisture
on it, but I recollect nothing more distinctly.

Afterwards she seems to have absorbed me. I ceased speaking to her
sister, and could think of nothing but her neck, legs and the hair at
the bottom of her belly. I was several times in the same room with
her, and was permitted the same liberties, but no others. I lent
her Aristotle, which I had borrowed, and one day recollect my prick
stiffening, and a strange overwhelming, utterly indescribable feeling
coming over me, of my desire to say to her "cunt," and to make her feel
me, and at the same time a fear and a dread overtook me, that my cock
was not like other cocks, and that she might laugh at me. After that, I
used to pull the skin down violently every d