At six o'clock she was obliged to leave. We were both fucked out, and parted regretting that a month must pass before she could venture to go to her mother's again. I had left her enough to think about, for I fucked her in several attitudes. It gave me pleasure to teach her.
Next day Molly ran in my head, so I fished about to hook her. She had seemed to me so young, that I had taken but little notice of her; liking the fat-cunted, biggish-arsed females best. Now I noticed her being so plump and fresh, and wondered I had never noticed her previously. When I met her, I looked in her face thinking, “Innocent as you look, your cunt's been wetted by a man.” I longed for her, but she was nearly always in the farm-yard, either with her mother or Pender, when not assisting up at the Hall; but when a man hunts a woman he is sure to get a chance, as will be seen I did.
Just after I had Pender on the Sunday, an annoying thing accurred to me. Whiteteeth worked in all parts of the parish, and she just now came to do something on my aunt's grounds, — weeding I think. Catching her one day alone I took some liberty. She resisted sullenly, looked up, and nodding her head said, “You gave me a bad illness.” “What!” said I. “Did you not?” said she. I swore I had not; did she think me such a blackguard? — would she see my prick? “Then my damned old man's given it me, and he swears I gave it him”, said she. She had a clap. I never had her afterwards, and was told that lots of men had had her. Fred told me soon afterwards, that he had, but that she had been quite steady since her marriage, he believed. I didn't undeceive him.
When the farm-work was over Molly stood some-times at the lane-gate. Loitering about I saw a man named Giles there, who when he saw me moved off. I laid hold of her once or twice, kissed and made the usual approaches, at last got a hot fit of lust for her, and felt I would do anything to get her once. After two women with well-haired cunts I did nothing but picture to myself that she had a small cunt, and but little hair on it, like nursemaid's, — and the idea excited me.
I have already described the barn, step-ladder, and loft; the chickens sometimes flew up the ladder into the loft. I had seen Pender go up, and whisk them down. Looking about one afternoon (hay-making was again going on), no one seemed about, though Pender was in the dairy. I entered the barn from the brick yard side, just as Molly was going up the ladder, showing her legs innocently enough.
“What pretty legs”, I cried. The girl scuffled up as hard as she could to get out of sight, I after her. She was chasing some chickens, and was as red as a turkey-cock in the face. I caught hold of her, prick standing, heart beating, and kissed her. She resisted, I put my hand up her clothes, and in the struggle we both rolled on to a heap of loose hay; I had felt the flesh of her thighs. “Leave off”, said she, “or I'll call mother.” Her mother was then ill in the farm-house.
“Don't be a fool”, said I attempting it again. “Don't you do such things sir,-I'll call mother, it's wrong of you” “If you do”, said I brutally, “I'll tell your mother Giles fucked you in the field last week.”
Never shall I forget the look of the poor girl's face. “Oh !—oh!” said she breathless, “you didn't,-it's a story, oh ! now pray, — oh ! it's a shocking story, —I warn't in the field.” “Don't. — oh ! it hurts”, said I repeating other words which had been wandering through my brain ever since I heard them. “I heard you and the man say that.”
She began to cry, putting her head in her hands. “Let me do it, and I won't tell,-no one will know, and you won't tell Giles, that's certain.” She ceased crying, and fixed her eyes on me wildly, I got my hand up her clothes, her thighs were closed, she kept pushing me away, “No,-no,-no.” Forgetting where I was, or that anyone might come up the ladder, I had my prick out, and with a struggle got my hand on her cunt. “You won't tell, really now?” “Not if you let me.” A little more scuffling, and I had her down. She was quiet, and I was fucking with all the delight and energy which a fresh woman gives a man, when I heard “Molly, Molly” shouted out. With a violent start she uncunted me, and I spent over her motte. “Where are you such a long time Molly?” “There is a hen up here”, said Molly who had started up, “and I think she has laid, but can't find the egg.” And Molly disappeared down the ladder. “You're wanted up in the Hall”, said the voice, — it was Pender's;—their voices died away. How pleased Pender would have been had she known the condition of Molly's motte !
Nothing is so irritating as spending outside a long coveted cunt, when another thrust or two would have left the sperm up it,-it is maddening. I could think of nothing but the girl; although I had barely felt, and had seen nothing of her charms, she seemed to me perfection. For a day or two I got no chance, so I wrote on a bit of paper, “You will get into a mess, unless you meet me to-night; I'll be in the barn at eight o'clock; come in through the wicket”, — or something to that effect. It was intended to frighten her, for she avoided me. I pushed the note into her hands at the Hall.
I walked through the farm-yard, afterwards and saw her, she shook her head as I passed. I said rapidly, —Pender was in sight, — “You had better.” In the evening I hid myself in the loft, allowed the barn-doors to be closed, and should have had to stay all night there if some one had not undone one of the wickets; they fastened them outside.
I had been there a long time, it was dark. “I am in here till to-morrow morning”, I thought, and walked up and down barely restraining myself from frigging, such was my state of lust. It was possible that circum stances might prevent her from coming, and I had given up hope, when the wicket opened, It was she; she came up into the loft; I caught her in my arms.
“What do you want? — you ain't a going to tell? -you ain't heard anybody say anything?” said she. I could not see, but felt her tears, reassured her, told her I loved her: who would know but us two? “What harm have I done you?” said the poor girl, “Giles is going to marry me, that's different, — oh ! don't now.” I had pushed her on to some hay, threatening her one minute, coaxing her the next.
I was feeling her. My hand was roving over a plump little bum and belly, my finger entered a tight little split on which was a little crisp hair, my prick followed my finger, and on the new sweet hay, belly to belly, but not mouth to mouth (she would not kiss), my prick revelled in a cunt which seemed divine, and was soon drowned in a pond of its own making.
“Mother's better, and has gone down the lane to Pender's”, said she, “if she comes back she will won-der where I am, — let me go.” I would not, until I had again enjoyed her; and then the lass enjoyed me. She unclosed the wicket in the rick-yard which let me out. I got across a field into the lane, went past the farm-gates, and there stood Molly with her mother. “Good night”, said I to the mother, then passing Pender's cottage, I went round, and up to the Hall.
I thought that having fucked Molly I should be contented; but the little cunt, the little hair, the small bum, made me want Molly again. I could not get her, she evidently did not wish for me; I had had her against her will, and so had her again afterwards. Perhaps only seemingly against her will, for though she resisted, and accused me of breaking my word, she had spent with me, and was to spend again, perhaps in spite of herself.
I cannot recollect the name of Molly's swain, though I have tried hard, so call him Giles, — it is a bumpkin's name.
Chapter VIII
Field women. • Fred at home. • Smith, the field foreman. • A rape of a juvenile. • Funking consequences. • Nelly consents. • Fred looks on.
Strolling into the fields one day, idly smoking my cigar later on in the year, groups of girls and women were at work. I talked to the field foreman and looked at the girls, especially the younger ones, and wondered if they had smaller cunts than Molly; of one whether she had any hair on her cunt at all. Some were apparently not more than twelve years of age. I longed to see their cunts, and joked with one or two of the larger girls; but a decided longing for young cunts had set in on me. “Pender”, said I one day, “what a lot of fast-looking chits there are in the fields.” “They are a bad lot”, said she, “there is one gal there only just fourteen in the family way.” I was just going to fuck Pender, and daresay finished quickly enough, for at that age if I was fucking, and thought of anything very baudy; with a sudden spasm I spent right off, even if I had only just got my cock up. Indeed women used to say to me, “How quick you are; why did you not wait for me?”