lphia. My father was a large and successful
merchant, doing business there. We lived in a large house in the upper
part of Chestnut Street, and my father's wealth procured me every
luxury that the heart could wish for. I never knew my mother, for she
died when I was quite young. My sister was married to you, Herbert,
when I was seventeen years of age. My ideas up to that time were very
vague regarding the sexes, but I was soon destined to be fully
enlightened.

"I felt very dull after my sister had gone away, and my father proposed
that I should write and ask my old school fellow, Florence Maltby, to
come and stay on a visit with us. I cordially agreed to this
proposition, for I loved Florence and had not seen her for several
years, although we kept up a constant correspondence.

"Florence accepted my invitation, and on the day agreed upon she took
up her abode with us.

"Miss Maltby was a beautiful girl about twenty years of age, her hair
and eyes were black--in fact she was a decided brunette. She was fiery,
impulsive and amorous. We had a thousand things to converse about, and
in a few hours all our old friendship was reknit, and we became more
intimate than ever. Of course, we slept together.

"For two or three nights nothing occurred of special moment. I noticed,
however, that Florence would kiss me with a great deal of warmth and
press me tenderly in her arms when we were in bed together, but I
thought nothing of it.

"One night, about a week after she had been an inmate of our house,
when we retired to our chamber, instead of undressing as usual,
Florence seated herself on the side of the bed and watched me in the
process of disrobing. I had unhooked the front of my dress, and it had
fallen on my shoulders, and my chemise, being open in front, allowed my
two breasts to be seen; nay, even a portion of the white plain below
was visible. Florence no sooner saw this than her eyes brightened and
she ran up to me and began to mold my bubbies. Although this action
somewhat surprised me, I made no resistance, and to tell the truth the
contact of her soft hands on my breasts was very agreeable.

"'What delicious breasts you have,' said Florence. 'How well formed
they are, and yet how large! See how stiff the rosy nipples stand out
from this field of snow! Oh, how I would love to kiss and press them!'
And she buried her head between the two semiglobes. 'And then your
belly, how soft and white it is,' she continued,