mount. My passions being excited, and knowing that my husband could not
return, and also that he had given strict orders that I was not to be
disturbed in my Italian lessons, I gave way unreservedly to the
excitement the Count raised. Before I well knew where I was, he was on
his knees in front of the low chair on which I was seated. He had
thrown up my petticoats, and I felt a long and extremely hard prick
rush up my cunt, and begin the most lively action. In fact, he carried
me (not unwillingly I must avow) by storm, and made haste to secure the
fortress at once, so that I had a very quick fuck, that did not assuage
the fire he had raised within me. He has since apologised for his
haste, saying that he wished to secure possession of me before I could
think of resistance, so as to ensure more facilities of connection
hereafter. We had no lesson in language that day, but another bout of
love, in which he did his utmost, and with perfect success, to give me
the most delicious enjoyment.

In fact, my dear Lizzie, I may say it was the first fuck that
thoroughly realised my, or rather our, anticipations of the act. We
arranged the line of conduct necessary to be followed so as neither to
compromise me or him either. In a short time we had again a delicious
fuck. Seated, with outstretched legs, on a chair, he got me to straddle
over him, and sink down on his stiff upstanding prick. I have tried
this position kneeling, with my husband on his back; but it does not
equal the chair fuck. One has so much better a spring from one's feet
than from one's knees, besides, the man is brought more face to face,
and there is more facility for mutual embracings; but both ways have
their charm. I had repeatedly observed that the Count apparently lost
his place, and on recovering it, partially penetrated the smaller
orifice, which you so picturesquely describe. I thought it accident,
and as it hurt, I always put him back, and joked him on his
awkwardness. But after I read your dear delightful letter. I became
convinced that he had a wish to penetrate there, without the courage to
tell me so.

I must confess to you, that our stolen embraces at home had become too
unsatisfactory, and the Count had arranged for a private house to be at
our disposal. Of an afternoon I drove out shopping, called at Swan and
Edgar's in Regent Street, leaving the carriage at the door, walked
upstairs, made some trifling purchase, paid for and left it until I
sh