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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,
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