All I could say, and that very faintly was, 'What are you doing?' 'Trying to increase your pleasure. Also to feel this little twat discharging.' He tickled my fanny, and the convulsion was more intense than before.
George brought his hand forth covered with my emission, and after looking at it coolly wiped it on my drawers.
'Heavens, what a grind you'll make!' he said, and forthwith took out his cock and tried to poke me. I had courage enough to refuse. So great was his power over me that I could not dance with him without spending. More than once I have had to stop breathless, and clinging to him whisper, 'For goodness' sake, George, hold me tight or I shall fall.
I'm doing it again.' There I clung, almost fainting from the acuteness of the ejaculation, while my spunk dribbled down my thighs.
Despite my resolution, I recognise now that he never would have married me (although some fine night I should assuredly have been fucked) but for the fact that I had a good deal of money, and that is what I fancy finally decided my noble to tie himself up. Not that marriage made a bit of difference to him, the wretch. He was one of those lustful, passionate, hell-fire scamps, of whom it is said they spare no man in their wrath and no woman in their lust.
I proved this to my sorrow on my wedding night. Scarcely had I got into bed than he fairly rushed me, like a bull. My nightdress was snatched off, and whereas I had expected a tender preliminarily scene of delightful cuddling with a gradual approach to the main performance, George pulled my thighs open and drove his prick into my slender cunt without taking breath.