Journal of a Proper Young Lady Ch. 02

At that Moment I experienced the first awful Sensation of Danger. It was not now merely Embarrassment and Dismay at having my secret Desires laid bare, nor concern for my Reputation, but was an apprehension of some potent, terrible Force that would overtake me and destroy me. Maybe it is only Hindsight that speaks thus – knowing what I know now, feeling as I feel. Maybe I did not see anything in her shy, delicate look that seemed perilous, nor heard anything in her Speech but a kind of innocent Bawdiness, or mere Banter. But when I remember her Aspect as she artlessly asked me to show her how to make herself a Frigstress, it seems to me that I did recognise the Threat, which was presented not by her, nor by her coquettish Proposition, but in my Hunger – in my Belly and in my Loins. I stood stupefied before her, my Bosom heaving and a confused yearning, derived from my Cunny, spreading up through me.

I had aroused my Lust, the sleeping Kraken within me, with looking upon the Picture and with my imaginative Foray into the World shewn therein, and had not sated it. The Beast had not died and was, thus, desirous of what could soonest requite it. I must not make my Lustiness my Excuse, however, nor suggest that it had overthrown my Reason. To do so seems an abrogation of my own Responsibility for my Actions, which Responsibility was Entire and Compleat throughout the Misadventure I am about to relate; if my Desires were Animal, and if they possessed me quite, then, perforce, I was no longer a Creature of Reason, and therefore could not be culpable, before God or Man, of whatever bestial Action they led me to take. I say again that this was far from the Truth, and that at all Points the Seat of my Reason was unthreatened by my Wantonness. All this is Prevarication, because I would not write what I must. Onward, onward – all I write now will be to the Purpose, however ruinous and painful it might be.

The Girl, then, stood looking at me and I knew not what to say or do. I noticed how extraordinarily pretty she was, and how her Cheeks seemed a little redder than they had been. She did not seem to know how to proceed with our singular Conversation either.
“Britomartis is my favourite Knight in The Faerie Queene,” she offered earnestly, her Eyes fresh and clear from her earlier weeping, and she stared at me with such a strange Inquisitiveness as demanded (or seemed to demand) a Response. I replied that I thought Britomart a most admirable Lady and a worthy and ingenious Invention of Mr Spenser’s. From which Retort she drew considerable Pleasure, and in the Flush of her Excitement she ran to me and embraced me. She held me firmly, hands cupped on my Shoulder Blades, pulling her Breasts up against mine. I was startled by this, and confusedly returned the Embrace. When it seemed that a proper Interlude had passed I attempted to withdraw from her, but she hugged me still tighter to her. Her Hands strayed down to my Waist and she nuzzled her Head against my Neck. Her Nipples were hard against my soft Flesh, pressing into me through our Cloaths.
“I love you, Lizzie,” she whispered.
“I love you too, Kitty,” I replied tentatively.
“I have always loved you. Always.” She released me, and I pulled away from her.
“We have known each other but two Years,” I said, gently chiding her, “‘always’ is too long to have loved someone you have known so short a time.”
“Even so, I shall not unsay it. You must know I loved you before I knew you. I expected you. I loved the idea of you. So beauteous, so clever, so kind.” She smiled a queer little smile. I did not know how to respond to such flattery and was again stupefied before her.
“Elizabeth!” called my Father from the Foot of the Stairs. “Did my Eyes deceive me or is young Catherine Fairchild now in the House? If she is, then you must know that I have finished the Business I was conducting in the Library, so the two of you may move where you may converse in greater Comfort.”
“She is here Father, you are not mistaken,” I replied. “Shall we move Downstairs?” I inquired of my Companion.
“I ... I ought to go,” she said, “I promised Mama that I would be Home before Dusk.”
“God speed you,” I said.
“Will I see you again soon?”
“Certainly.”
She hesitated.
“You must come to my House. Next Week. Friday. For Elevenses?” She clasped her Hands together tightly and looked at me with such Anxiety that I could not but acquiesce. She looked overjoyed and then turned from me, about to depart. She hesitated and swung back around to face me. She reached down, and took my Hand in hers, and brought it up to her Lips. She kissed it delicately, and then, without Deliberation or Warning, she firmly guided it down to below her Belly, holding it against Herself for a Moment. She let it go and then hurried from the Room.
“See you next Week, Lizzie!” she called as she departed. “I’ll send my Carriage for you.”

I was confounded. Reason and Lust both contended which was the mightier within me. Kitty loved me. At least, she said she loved me. She meant, surely, that she loved me as a Sister, or as a chaste Girl loves her bosom Companion? No! Not so – for she loved me as a Sister, or a Friend, who had placed my Hand up against her Cunt. Her Love was perilous, deep and Sinful, no doubt awakened, or spurred on by the wickedness contained here in my Journal. I decided to find some Excuse not to go to meet her. I would not let my Curiosity, or the heaving, searing Temptation that was tearing at my Soul call me to her. To do Otherwise was Folly. And yet.

I spent the remainder of the Week caught between Excitement and Horror, whenever I thought of Kitty’s unspoken Proposition. I did not send to Kitty to cancel our Appointment. I reasoned that I should not send her an abrupt note, or a Message by someone else, but should arrive for Elevenses and gently put aside any offers of anything beside Tea and Scones, whatsoever those offers might be. I would be decorous and gracious, and would quell whatever flaming Appetites I had inadvertently awakened in the Girl. This is what I told myself. But when the appointed Friday arrived, I felt as queasy, and as trepidatious, and as thrilled as if I had not made such a sensible Resolve, as if the Naughtiness that ensued were already a fait accompli will I, or nill I.

Kitty’s Carriage arrived for me and I climbed into it, like Phaethon mounting his father’s Car, or, rather, like a lost Soul beckoned onto Charon’s boat. My Heart was pounding, and I felt hot and flustered. Nothing would happen, I told myself. We would eat, drink and exchange Pleasantries, nothing more. I would leave as Virtuous as I arrived. I did not sound very convincing.

Three Quarters of an Hour later, we had arrived. Kitty had heard our Approach and was standing on the Steps leading up to her front Door. She waved at me deliriously, and then rushed up to hug me, as I stepped out of the Carriage.
“I was so afraid that you wouldn’t come!” she gushed. As she held me, I could feel her Body trembling.
“I’ve been looking forward to it.” To my Ears, my Voice sounded odd, strangled, not my own.
“Come!” she said. “We’ll not go in the House. It is such a beautiful Day, it would be a shame ... I’ve had the Servants set up Elevenses for us in the Gazebo.” She took me by the Hand, and I followed mutely through the immaculate Grounds of her House, which were ordered and neat, after the style of Capability Brown. It was indeed a beautiful Day, the sort of Day that inspires Midsummer Madness, the sort of Heat that makes one feel unreserved, Continental. These are the Days when Things Change. When we are not quite ourselves and enterprises of great Pitch and Moment their Currents turn awry ... Everything of any Consequence, everything historic and meaningful, has happened to me on such Days as this was. Balmy and tranquil and indolent, yet you could almost here some Cupid, or some Robin Goodfellow, laughing boyishly amongst the Trees.

We came at length to the Gazebo, surrounded by well-kept Hedges, out of Sight of the main House. It felt as though we two were alone in all the World.
“I had them make Lemonade and Cucumber Sandwiches,” Kitty told me, “it seemed too hot for anything else. I hope that that’s to your liking?” She looked at me anxiously. She really was a pretty, sweet little Thing, I thought languidly. I nodded my assent. She grinned.
“Good!” she said exuberantly.

We sat and ate in amicable Silence, punctuated occasionally by bursts of Conversation and pleasant Prattle about how Lady Someone was to host a Ball and Lord Someone-Else was engaged to be married. I began to think that my Sensation of Danger had been entirely unfounded. The gentle Breeze caused the Leaves to rustle against the Windows, and they cast slow, lazy Shadows on the Walls and on Kitty’s Face as she delicately ate and drank and laughed. They fell too on her Dress, which was an exquisite, lightly embroidered Gown of pale blue Silk. It was Fine and thus Transparent with a décolletage that exposed the uppermost part of her Cleavage and I could clearly see her Short Stay, and her Shift, likewise pale blue, beneath it. Beneath her Bust there was a simple Brooch to give the Gown shape. My Eyes dwelt rather too long upon the leafy Silhouettes upon her Bosom, and when I looked up, back to her Eyes, she looked away abashed.

We had finished with the Sandwiches and Lemonade, and had moved to the Couch, when Kitty suddenly sat forward and said:
“It is so very extreamly hot in here! Lizzie, would you mind if I took off my Dress?” Before I had had time to form a reply, she had risen to her Feet and had unclasped her brooch, letting the flimsy dress fall to the Floor. The Fear and the Excitement and the Danger were suddenly upon me again as she bent down slowly to pick it up, allowing me full view of the Curves of her Hindquarters. Next, she unfastened her Petticoats and removed them, and I could see the smooth, white perfection of her Thighs, her Shift hanging loosely midway between her Knee and her Waist. Her Short Stay was fastened over the top of the Shift, forcing her little Bosom, upward. She turned her attention to this next, but her dainty Fingers seemed to founder upon the interwoven straps.
“Wretched Thing!” she exclaimed. “Lizzie would you mind helping me?”

Was it a Ruse? Some politick Scheme to draw me closer to her? I knew not, but, at that Moment, on that Day with its Promise of Change and of momentous Happenings, with Danger hanging dreamily in the Air, and Puck hiding, smiling in the leafy Glade, it never really occurred to me that I could do other but assist in the uncovering of the fair Flesh of my Friend. I approached her, and set about freeing her Bosom from the straits of the Stay. She greeted my ministrations with a sharp intake of Breath. My Fingers worked nimbly at the Knots, pressing occasionally between her Breasts. I was soon finished, and she shrugged the Garment off. Her Tits, though now able to move freely within her Chemise, remained defiantly Staunch and Upright. We stood, Face to Face (almost Bosom to Bosom we were so near each other) and, for what seemed a long while, we neither of us spoke a Word. Then Kitty said:
“You are making me feel embarrassed to be in such a state of undress, while you remain so primly attired. You should remove your Dress too. It’s very liberating.”

It was very close in the Gazebo, and my Reservations and Sensibilities had all evaporated in the languorous Heat. I did as she asked. I undressed myself slowly, becoming the Image of the nearly-naked Girl before me.
“Isn’t that better?” she said excitedly.
I agreed that it was cooler. I had moved a little further back from her, affrighted by her wildness and her exhilaration. I sat back down upon the Sofa, pressing my Knees together, and knotting my Arms across my Bosom. She sank down into a Chair opposite.
“You are very Beautiful Lizzie,” she said, and I noticed that she had allowed her Shift to ride up her leg a little further as she had sat down.
I thanked her for the Compliment, and could not wrest my Gaze from her inner Thighs; her Legs were slightly apart, and I could see plainly the upper Part of her Legs, which curved up towards her Womanly Parts, which were separated from my Sight only by the lightest, most flimsy piece of Fabric. My unwonted Attention to the Nether Regions of her Body, cannot have escaped the Notice of Kitty, who proceeded casually to stretch up her Arms and further part her Legs almost putting the secretest Part of herself on full view.

This display was extreamly provocative and raised in me unprecedented Feelings of Lust and Desire. If the Chemise were to raise itself but two or three Inches more, then ... Still I looked intently upon the forbidden Parts of my Friend, I was not conscious of the Chair upon which she sat, nor of the Gazebo, Capability Brown-style landscape, nor even of Kitty’s other excellent Parts. The tantalising prospect of the appearance on full display of her Cunt consumed my full Attention. I could scarcely Breathe for anticipation of the Moment of its revelation, and dared not blink lest I missed it. For her part, Kitty was playing the Game most excellently. She was a consummate Performer: now raising the Level of the Hem a little; now letting it Fall; now parting her Thighs a little; now closing them together. All the while she chattered on about trivialities, knowing that she held me in thrall to her, knowing why she could never meet my Eye, which was fixed on the drama of her Legs.

She slid a little further down into her seat, and her Shift rose a full Inch. So little now stood between me and my Object. I had become so compleatly, so peculiarly desirous of seeing Kitty’s Cunny that it required all my Restraint not to reach out and lift her Chemise up and force her Legs apart to achieve my End. She could, I am sure, see in me this Frenzy, this Desperation. She adjusted herself a little and yielded me another Inch. So close. My Heart was pounding, and my Mouth felt dry in spite of all the Lemonade I had drunk. Then suddenly, ticingly Kitty sank and stretched simultaneously, and there before my Face, my hungry Eyes, appeared her Slit, prettier and neater than mine had looked when I examined myself in front of the Mirror and topped with voluptuous blonde-brown Curls, the same Hue as the Hair upon her Head. Until that Moment, it had never occurred to me that the Hair between Ladies’ Legs could be different from my own dark brown Fur.

I gasped as I greedily drank in the Sight of her, like an insatiate gourmand. Wordlessly, she spread her Legs still further apart and I observed her Slit gap a little, displaying the moistness-pinkness-puffiness I had seen in my own Cunt’s Excitement. It seemed then as if the Gazebo was filled with a fusty and yet exciting Aroma. The Smell of Flesh and Fornication, of Woman marrying with Woman. That Odour made what happened next as Inevitable as it was Sinful.
“Are you enjoying the View?” asked Kitty, her Voice dry and strained. I made no effort to disguise my overweening interest in her Sex, and nodded my Head.
“Very much,” I managed to say through the throbbing, undulating Sensations, which were wracking my Body and my Mind.
“I’m glad.” She sounded genuine.

I managed to look up at her. Her face was red, and her Bosom seemed to be swelling with every Breath. Her Nipples were, I noticed, extremely prominent, hardened and attempting to punch Holes in the Fabric of her Chemise. My own Teats felt similarly rigid against my enfolded Arms.
“Do you remember what I asked of you the Day I read your Journal?” she asked earnestly.
I nodded.
“To show me how properly to frig myself?”
“Yes.”
She smiled, moved her hand down betwixt her Legs and began to maul herself roughly with her palm.
“Like this?”
“No,” I said faintly, and then more deliberately: “No. Were I you, I would start with my Breasts. You need to work up to rubbing your Cunt. You need to make yourself ready.”
Her cheeks reddened a little. “You called it my Cunt.”
“What do you call it?”
“I won’t tell you – it’s very silly.”
“We can have no Secrets from one another now.”
“Sometimes. Sometimes, I call it my Pussy Cat. I call it my Pussy.”
I almost laughed at her daftness, but managed to catch my Laughter ere it escaped my Lips. “Kitty’s cute little Pussy ... would you like me to call it that?”
“No – call it my Cunt. I like it when you’re vulgar.”

She stood up when she said this, her Eyes fixed on mine, and pulled her Shift up over her Head. She was now compleatly naked. Her Hair, exquisitely curled, fell upon her Shoulders, which heaved with each rapid, lusty Breath, and drew my Eyes down, down to her Perfect Breasts. They were small and firm, and her dark Nipples stood out from them. Her Teats were hard, and there were Goosebumps on her Flesh though it was not cold in the Summer House. Her Belly was invitingly plump and rounded, and her Naval pretty and discrete in the Centre of it. I traced with my Eyes the trail of wiry Hair which led down from her Belly Button towards the Bush of Hair which surrounded her Cunt. She stood unmoving a while, allowing me to study her in her Nakedness, but there was no Serenity in her stillness: her Breath was uneven; her Breasts and Belly twitching and trembling and her Skin was reddening in patches. Her Skin-white-as-alabaster was becoming steadily more imperfect, breaking out in blotches of Colour, responding to her Heat and her Frenzy. The blemishes appeared hither and thither, now darkening her Left Tit, now transfiguring her Thigh. This is how I witnessed the Need of the Girl: her uncontrollable Lust was painting itself upon the Canvas of her Flesh. As I sat passive, observing this singular Phenomenon, Kitty gave an impatient, stifled little Gasp and sank back into her Chair. She splayed her Legs, showing me again her spectacular Cunny, a forbidden Fruit which now looked riper and pinker than before, its fusty aroma thick and almost tangible in the Air.
“You say I should start with my Tits?”
I nodded.
“Like this?”
She cupped her modest Breasts in the Palms of her Hands, and lifted them a little, before proceeding brusquely to shake them up and down. They juddered and jerked their protest.
“No. Not like that,” I said.
“Show me,” she commanded.

I hesitated a Moment, then rose from the Couch and moved towards her, reaching out for her Breast. My Hand lightly brushed across the warm, spongy Flesh of her Left Tit, and then I withdrew my Touch, confused. My wantonness was pounding in my Ears, and I suddenly felt as if all Innocence was now denatured and polluted. Certes, I was aroused, enflamed. My Cunt was slick with the juices of my Passion, and my Teats were hard as Stones, and yet, and yet, some trick of the dappled Light upon the naked, trembling Girl (perhaps a Cloud passed in front of the Sun, I know not) gave me Pause. The native hue of my naughty Resolution, its currents almost – almost! – turned awry and I all but lost the name of Action.
“Why do you procrastinate so?” asked the splayed, naked, impious Girl prostrate before me.

I did not mention the trick of the light – the prick of my conscience – only stared blankly upon her. Then the Gazebo felt once again the full intensity of the Sun and the blind Boy-Archer giggled and whispered in my ear: “You two are so far steeped in the secretions of your Cunts, to return were as Tedious as to go o’er.” I smiled down upon her, and plunged in, embracing her, clutching her shoulders and pulling her uncovered Breasts up against mine, which were clad only in the flimsy fabric of my Shift. My stonehard Nipples pressed mercilessly into her supple young Dugs. I kissed her hungrily on the Mouth, like a Man would kiss, confidently, openmouthed, my Tongue forcing its way inside her. She gave a contented Moan as she opened her Lips to receive me. My Tongue ranged around inside her Mouth, wrestled briefly with hers before subduing it. As I withdrew from the Kiss, I bit lightly upon her lower Lip. Our Eyes met, and hers revealed her contented submission to me. My body is yours, she told me wordlessly, do what you will with it. I needed no further Invitation. Both my Hands grasped both her swollen, blotchy Dairies simultaneously and roughly kneaded them together, while I straddled her Waist, feeling the cool Air upon my opened, moistened Cunt as I lowered myself down upon her. I could feel the silken Hair that ornamented her adorable little Chink – her ‘Little Pussy’ as she sweetly called it – tickling at my nether Lips. I kissed her again, and this time she kissed back, our Tongues and our pubic Hair entwined, my Hands cupping her Breasts now, massaging them. I took her Teats gently between my index Fingers and my Thumbs and tugged upon them, lightly twisted them, squeezed them. Then pressed them harder, intending to hurt her just a little, to heighten the erotick Sensations to which I was subjecting her. She gasped, but protested not.