hand, I am holding the photograph with my left. Sweet, delicious vision!
LETTER II
To really emit is to spoil the thing. Of course, such a scene as I had under my eyes in photographing the secret charms of dear Louisa threw all my philosophy to the winds and, as soon as I was alone, I could not refrain from frigging myself until a copious discharge relieved me from my extreme excitement. I also confess that once, I became so awfully hard when reading Petronius, where the tutor seduces his beautiful pupil after dinner when the governor is asleep, that the exquisite lubricity of the description, and the exciting way that he worked her up to his purpose, so overcame me that I unbuttoned my breeches and could not help indulging in a delicious emission brought on rapidly by a few energetic rubbings of my throbbing organ. And in either of these cases you, my foolish critic, would have done just the same. But, joking apart, and notwithstanding occasional slips, I am completely opposed, on every ground, to this weakening and really insipid vice, so ruinous, too, to the constitution and power of enjoyment that lies in the real union of the sexes.
However, to return to my story, just let me tell you what happened when Tom, that very afternoon, saw the glorious photograph of Louisa.
First, I must recount what I should have told you in my last letter, had not the relation of the scene so overcome me that I could not go on, but was obliged to relieve my bursting sensations as described. To return, after taking the photograph, we sat down together on the sofa, and the dear girl, in all the confidence of innocence and of trust in me, threw her arms round my neck and gave me a long and loving kiss. Despite that addition to the fuel that had already set my passions on fire, I managed to constrain any outward demonstration, wishing to win her entire and unrestrained confidence in me so that I should become, as it were, her father confessor, to whom she could open out all the secrets of her most inward thoughts and I fully succeeded. We had a long conversation of a most private character. I found laid open to me the mind of a girl (or rather woman) of a most imaginative and amorous tendency, exhibiting intense curiosity regarding the differences and the relations between the sexes. She was, however, apparently almost innocent of the great sensation. After I had satisfied her curiosity about the sexes and their mutual desires and modes of gratifying them, both in couples and alone, she confessed that a strange thrill had passed through her when she saw the nudities in our public collections, and that, after being alone for a few moments before a fine young Antinous in the Louvre she had been so affected that she went up to her room after dinner, fastened the door and looked at her uncovered person, in exactly the way I had placed her before the cheval glass, from her own easy-chair. She put her hand down and pressed it on her excited secret parts, and tried to insert a finger, but it hurt her. She pushed it in further and found it pressed upon something hard that gave her a most extraordinary and almost overpowering sensation. She thought she was going to faint, but was suddenly relieved and found all her parts quite wet. She was greatly alarmed and frightened at this, and thought she must have somehow injured herself, and had not dared to mention it to any one at home. She now wanted to know from me how this could have happened. I fully explained all.
'But, can the Antinous go… go into…,' she stammered, 'into… you know where I mean?'
I told her that excitement makes it swell up and become stiff and straight and explained that, if moved up and down inside her own part, it would produce boundless rapture. The whole matter was clearly set before her, and I told her that the new photograph would give dear Tom a kind of relief to his great excitement, which must be somehow allayed. The upshot of all this was my promising to photograph Tom for her. But she added, hesitantly,
'You know he must be-what do you call it? — I mean so that it would go in as you described-sticking out, you know-if looking at that wicked photograph can make him so, and he must be just as much shown to me as I am to him.'
LETTER III
After the scene last described I passed a very restless night, in which I studiously avoided any sort of pressure on my unruly organ. Next morning I was in a sad state of burning desire. I sat before the fire, finishing the picture of Tom for Louisa and then she came, looking more beautiful than ever, with a certain languid air, which made me suppose that she too had passed a restless night after our exciting work yesterday morning and my detailed descriptions of the delights the sexes could give each other.
When she had laid aside her bonnet and shawl, I clasped her in my arms, and gave her a most loving and long embrace, which she warmly returned. I pushed my tongue into her sweet mouth, and said, 'Oh, return me the favour.'
She darted her dear little tongue in immediately, and I sucked it deliciously, pressing her loving bosom with one hand, while the other wandered over the wide expanse of her glorious and marble-like buttocks, pressing my body against hers, so that she could feel the stiff projection that was throbbing in my trousers. She smiled as I handed her to her seat, and I could see that her eyes glanced down to my unruly member, bulging out as if he would burst the bonds of cloth that confined him.
I begged her to sit with her feet on the fender, and to lift her dress up on her lap, so that I could see their beautiful shape, while I shaded off and finished Tom's photograph.
These preliminaries had put her completely at her ease, and while I continued at work on the picture I led her on to fuller confessions than she had made the day before. I found, as I more than half-suspected, that her nunnery practice had been carried very far, especially in the pleasures of friction with other girls. She confessed that my conversation and descriptions of the previous day had occupied herself and two bedroom companions nearly all night, hence the languid air I had observed.
I was curious to hear how she had luxuriously improved upon the descriptions and sketches I had given her.
Of her two bedroom companions, one was Marguerite, a fine-grown, voluptuous, large-breasted, comely girl of seventeen, of very hot passions. The other, Emma, was a delicate little fair-haired beauty of nearly sixteen, well-developed for her age. These three bedfellows had taught each other all they knew or could invent, and that had been carried very far. I soon found that, in fact, the sly puss who the day before had put on such an air of ignorance and surprise, was, in reality, a great deal more knowing than I gave her credit for. She confessed, however, that it was such a pleasure to hear a man descanting on the subject that, although bashfulness withheld her confidence at that moment, she felt how delightful it would be to tell me everything and have no concealments between us.
I thanked the dear girl for her confiding trust in me, which she should never regret. She then described how they had practised last night a new idea I had given her. After they were all undressed and quite naked, she had laid Marguerite on her back, then kneeling on the bed straddled her and, bringing her lovely aperture right before her face, she pressed the stiff, rosy button of Marguerite's nipple into the opening as much as she could, twisting her body deliciously on the hard, swelling bosom, while Emma rubbed Louisa's clitoris with one hand, and with the other frigged herself, reclining on the bed so as to introduce the forefinger of each hand into their arseholes, increasing their enjoyments in what was to them a noble manner, so that they spent more deliciously than ever.
They had repeated this, each to the other, until, quite exhausted, they sank to sleep. It must have been great fun could one but have seen them.
In telling me all this Louisa had often to beat about the bush for expressions to explain their actions and their means of carrying them out. I then showed her the photograph of Tom's beautiful erection, which perfectly enchanted her, as it was the first time she had really seen the representation of a standing prick. It made her eyes glitter and her face flush.
'Oh! What a wonderful thing it is-what do you call it?'
So I told her it was a prick intended to go into her cunt, which was the name we gave the lovely opening between her legs. I went on to teach her to use all the simplest, plainest words for such matters, as we did as boys
