When I returned home I found my father as gloomy and austere as ever. He welcomed me with a cold kiss and asked me a few questions as to the progress I had made in my studies. My replies did not appear to satisfy him and I had not been home a week before he declared his intention to send me to school again. I was by no means sorry to hear of this resolve, for my brother was finishing his education in New York, and the house was insufferably dull. I was at once dispatched to Mount de Sales, a convent near Baltimore. The inmates of the convent consisted of pupils and nuns the latter acting as instructresses to the former, assisted by two or three priests.

I had been in the convent a year when we received a new pupil named Margaret Maitland, the daughter of a distinguished lawyer, residing in Baltimore. Margaret was a beautiful girl about my own age. She was rather tall, her eyes and hair were black, while her skin was of a whiteness ravishing to behold.

She was exceedingly religious and spent a great portion of her time in prayer, fasting and vigils. I noticed that she confessed to a Father Clark very frequently and always appeared very happy and contented when she left the confessional. I felt satisfied that there was something going on which partook more of the flesh than the spirit, and I determined to watch.

Father Clark’s apartment was situated at the eastern extremity of the convent. It contained a large closet, and one day I concealed myself in it at the time I knew his penitent would visit him. I had been there but a few minutes before the priest entered. He was about forty years of age, stoutly built and rather handsome. He did not wait long before Margaret made her appearance. She looked positively beautiful. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were flushed, and her bosom rose and fell, showing that she was laboring under some excitement. To my extreme surprise, the moment she entered the room she ran up to Father Clark, and throwing her white arms round his neck kissed him passionately on the lips. He returned her embraces and drew her on his knee. This sight was entirely novel to me, and my cheeks burned while my eyes almost started from their sockets watching what would be their next proceeding. I had not long to wait, for I saw the priest’s officious fingers unbutton Margaret’s dress in front and deliberately pull it off her ivory shoulders, thus exposing two globes of snow, round, firm, exquisitely formed, and surmounted by two strawberry nipples, which stood out stiff. He pressed and kissed her breasts, absolutely burying his manly face between the soft cushions. He was, however, soon not satisfied with this, but canting her slightly up in his lap, he put his hand up her clothes, and invaded the most secret recesses of her body. This action raised her petticoats in such a manner that it exposed, to my gaze, one of her ivory thighs, which was large, well developed and beautifully rounded. I could see that he was moving his hand rapidly while Margaret seemed on the point of dying with delight. After amusing himself a short time in this manner, he suddenly desisted and, slipping her off his lap, placed her on her hands and knees on the floor. He then went to a cupboard and took from it a bunch of rods. Margaret remained in the position which he had placed her without making the slightest movement. Father Clark now walked up to her and, raising her petticoats, threw them over her head, thus exposing, in a moment, all her hidden charms to my excited eyes. It was a delicious sight, sufficient to have seduced the most rigid anchorite. I could see Margaret’s white buttocks, admirably formed, her two beautiful thighs, and exquisitely formed legs; all was naked from her waist down. Situated at the lower portion of her white bottom, between her lovely thighs, I could discern the pouting lips of her bijou, with a line of coral marking the spot where they met.

Father Clark raised the rod and brought it down gently on her broad, white buttocks their hue was immediately changed to a blushing red, while Margaret twisted and turned under the flagellation, every movement revealing more of her exquisite Mon Veneris. While the priest plied the rod, he appeared to be experiencing the most delicious sensations. Margaret’s bottom was soon as red as a cherry, but she did not appear to mind the flogging which she was receiving the least bit.

When the priest had continued this exercise a few minutes, he threw down the rod, and kneeling on the ground behind her, he unbuttoned his pantaloons, and out leaped his staff of love, stiff, firm and with its ruby head uncovered. He nestled it for a moment between her buttocks, and then gently driving the vermilion lips of her coral sheath with his fingers, he brought his instrument to bear on the luscious opening, and seizing her by the hips, in another moment he was plunged to the very hilt in her beautiful body. When Margaret felt that the conjunction was complete she uttered a faint exclamation of joy and wiggled her buttocks from side to side as if to prevent her prisoner from escaping her. The priest now began to move himself in and out of her and as he did so, I could distinctly see his staff appear and disappear in its warm nest. Every time he withdrew, her vagina clasped his instrument so tightly that he drew out the interior lips, and each time that he plunged it into her palpitating body, they were carried in with it. You can imagine my sensations, dear reader, when I saw all this. I instinctively raised my clothes and carried my hand to my own moss-covered retreat, and forcing a finger between the lips, I found it tightly grasped by my vagina, and I imitated all their motions, thrusting it in and out, my eyes being all the time fixed on the amorous couple. The priest was evidently in the seventh heaven of enjoyment, his hands wandered from one beauty to another as if at a loss to know which to take possession of. At one moment it would be her snowy globes which still remained uncovered; at another it would be her white belly, and then again it was the top of her Mount of Venus. Suddenly his motions grew quicker, his staff entered in and out of the coral retreat so rapidly that I could no longer detect the motion. The crisis came, and with a smothered exclamation of joy they both discharged. At the same moment the exciting scene I had witnessed drew from me my tribute to the god of sexual desire.

I cultivated Margaret’s friendship after this, and when I was intimate enough with her I told her all I had seen. She blushed at first, but when she saw that I could be discreet, she confessed the whole truth to me. I found her an able instructress, and was soon even more perfectly au fait in all the mysteries of love, except the actual experience of sexual intercourse with the other sex. She made me a witness of many scenes between herself and Father Clark, and I soon found they were both perfectly adept in the art of procuring sexual enjoyment.

One day I discovered further evidence of the great morality pervading in Mount de Sales. The Lady Abbess was a handsome, fine-looking woman of about forty years of age. She was very strict with all the boarders of the convent, except with two sisters named Emily and Fannie Dawson. These two girls were her pets and were always with her. They were both beautiful girls, with flashing dark eyes and beautiful complexions. On the day I refer to, Margaret Maitland came to me and whispered in my ear that if I would come with her she would show me a pretty sight. I followed and she led me to the Lady Abbess’s room and told me to peep through the keyhole. I did so and saw a very strange scene which I will endeavor to describe to you.

Seated on a low chair near a large sofa was Father Price. His pantaloons were down and the lower portion of his body all uncovered; his instrument of love stood stiff and erect. Seated sideways towards him on the sofa I have just referred to, was the Lady Abbess. Her dress was off her shoulders, revealing her well-developed bust. The lower portion of her body was entirely naked; one of her feet rested on an ottoman, the other on the ground; by this means one of her thighs was elevated. Father Price had one finger in her lustful slit, while she had grasped his staff in her hand. He was slowly pushing his finger in and out of her warm nest, and every now and then kissing her broad white buttocks which were entirely at his command. But this was not all; Emily and Fannie Dawson were also there, acting their parts. Emily stood on the sofa with her petticoats raised above her naval, thus revealing her delicious thighs, her white belly and the moss-covered domain of Venus. She was exquisitely made. The Lady Abbess was titillating her clitoris with her unoccupied hand, while Emily’s excited face, the tip of her tongue slightly protruding from her coral lips and the heaves of her alabaster buttocks rising to meet the Abbess’s deflowering finger, sufficiently showed the intense delights she was enjoying. Fannie was at the other end of the sofa. She had her back turned towards Father Price; she knelt on the sofa with one knee, while the other leg rested on the ground; her skirts were thrown over her head, and her head was buried in the sofa, thus elevating her white bottom in the air. Between her ivory thighs we could see the panting lips of her luscious bijou. She was rubbing the top of her slit with one finger, and by the quivering of her buttocks, I guessed she was enjoying herself to her heart’s content.

Margaret and I watched all their proceedings. Their motion soon grew fast and furious, and we were both so excited by what we saw that we instinctively raised each other’s petticoats and imitated their actions on each other. I forced a finger in Margaret’s lovely grotto, and at the same time felt her finger caressing my clitoris. I opened my thighs to the widest possible extent to admit her manipulation more readily and she did the same. It was a delicious sensation, feeling her delicate finger force its way into my warm vagina. We kept time with the actors in the next room, and at the very moment that I saw the sperm go from Father Price’s instrument to the broad, white buttocks of the Abbess, both Margaret and myself emitted, and the Abbess and the two sisters were not a moment behind. We then ran to our dormitories for fear of being discovered.

A few weeks after this occurrence my father took me away from the convent and I returned home. Here my time passed monotonously enough, and I wished myself back to Mount de Sales a hundred times. But an event happened which more than reconciled me to my change of life. This was nothing less than a visit from Harry Duval, a cousin who resided in Baltimore.

Harry was a fine, handsome young fellow, about twenty-two years of age. The moment I saw him, I felt irresistibly attracted towards him. But I disguised my admiration with all the hypocrisy common to young girls.

One day we were out walking together in the beautiful grounds surrounding my father’s house. The weather was deliciously warm and the birds filled the air with their melodies. I was clad very lightly, wearing a low-necked dress with a light scarf thrown over my shoulders. We wandered for some distance, conversing on everyday topics, when my cousin proposed that we should rest ourselves on the grass under the shade of a fine, large elm tree; I consented and we sat down. Harry took my hand in his and kissed it. I blushed at this familiarity but did not withdraw it from his grasp. By degrees he grew more enterprising, and drawing me towards him, imprinted a kiss on my lips. I now made an effort to withdraw myself from his grasp but he held me tightly.

“Dear Kate,” said he, “I love you with all my heart and soul.”

“Oh Harry,” I replied, “you have said that to hundreds of others.”

“Pray, darling it is you alone that possesses my heart. I swear I love none but you.”

So saying, he imprinted fresh kisses on my lips in spite of the resistance I made. To tell the truth, my resistance was getting weaker and weaker, for I felt a delicious feeling run through my body such as I had never experienced before. He grew bolder and almost devoured me with kisses. In our struggle the light scarf which I wore on my shoulders became displaced and my neck and the upper portion of my bust were bare. The sight of my white shoulders appeared to electrify Harry, for he immediately brought his lips to bear upon them, and caressed and patted them with his hand. He did not stop here, however. My dress was rather loose in front and he had the audacity to invade the secrets of my bosom. The pressure he made caused some of the buttons to give away behind and my frock fell completely off my shoulders, revealing to his gaze my two “orbs of snow,” as he called them. He immediately took possession of them and molded and pressed them with his hands, at the same time gently titillating the strawberry nipples which, under his lascivious touches, stood out stiff. I was now completely on fire and no longer opposed him. To tell the truth, I was as anxious as he to experience the acme of love. Harry kissed and caressed my bubbies for some minutes, and while thus engaged, one of his hands was furtively raising my petticoats. At last I felt one of his hands on my naked thigh a shiver of desire ran through my frame. He cautiously ascended the snowy columns, and in a moment or two I felt an impudent finger in the outskirts of the domain of Venus. I instinctively lifted up my thighs in order to facilitate his curious researches, and soon experienced the most delicious sensations, for his finger had already divided the lips which formed the entrance of my moss-covered retreat. He gently pushed it forward until it was clasped tightly by the warm sides of my vagina. While he was acting in this manner he kissed me repeatedly on the lips and breast, only pausing to suck the rosy nipples which surmounted the two semiglobes. Although he addressed every term of endearment to me, I was too much excited to make any reply. For in a few moments he continued his delicious play, titillating the interior of my Mons Veneris, while he caressed my clitoris with his thumb, sending a lava of delight through my frame. In spite of all my endeavors not to appear too lascivious, I could not help moving my buttocks in response to his soul inspiring touches I felt the crisis approaching. At that moment I saw him tear open the front of his pantaloons and out jumped his member, as stiff as an iron bar. With his unoccupied hand he seized mine and bore it down on the menacing object. I seized it in my grasp and began to imitate his motions. This was more than Harry could bear, for I had scarcely made half a dozen movements when my cousin, frantically seizing me around the waist, stretched my length on the green sward. In one moment he was between my thighs, which I am willing to confess were opened wide enough to receive him, and in another moment his instrument had penetrated the lips of my most secret charms, and was imbedded to the very hilt in my body. Oh God! the ecstasy I felt when the conjunction was complete I can never describe. He reposed for a moment or two in this condition and then began to gently heave his buttocks. I responded with a corresponding motion and no tongue can tell the delights I enjoyed as his delicious staff rushed in and out of the sheath destined by nature to receive it.

“Oh, Harry,” I exclaimed, “this is too much I am suffocating with pleasure darling, dar-dar ”

The crisis came; a flood of rapture escaped from me while I felt his copious discharge lubricate the very mouth of my womb. I absolutely fainted with pleasure.

When I recovered my senses I found that Harry was drying me with his pocket handkerchief. This done, he stooped and imprinted a kiss on the sheath of his joys, and then assisted me to rise. We then returned to the house fully satisfied with our delightful experiences.

“Darling Kate,” said he, as we reached the door, “leave the door of your bed chamber open tonight.”

I pressed his hand as a sign of affirmation and we separated. You can easily imagine, dear reader, how anxiously I waited for night. My bedroom was far removed from any other occupied part of the house, and I had no fear that we should be interrupted. At last the hour for retiring came, and I took up my candle and went to my chamber. I did not undress myself, but sat on the beside anxiously awaiting my cousin’s coming. I had been there about a quarter of an hour when I heard his footsteps, and in another moment he was by my side. He rushed to me, kissed my lips and then, with trembling fingers, bared my breasts, which he covered with kisses. He then absolutely tore off my clothes, not even sparing my chemise, and I stood before him as naked as I was born. In a few seconds he was in the same situation and I saw for the second time in my life his splendid member, so stiff and firm that its ruby head nearly reached his navel. All my modesty disappeared as if by magic, and I removed my hands which I had instinctively placed over my center of attraction and, rushing towards him, seized his burning rod in my grasp. I capped and uncapped the fiery head and played with the purse containing the two witnesses to virility. My cousin’s eyes shot fire and he began to move his buttocks in reply to my touches. He placed his hands on my bottom and pressed me close to him, and I could feel his staff of love pressing against my white belly. In another moment he had thrown me on my back on the bed, and then set about examining the charms of my person at his ease. His first proceeding was to open my thighs to the widest extent, thus exposing to his gaze and touches the whole of love’s domain. He played with the hair covering the hillock of Venus; he divided the lips with his finger and, seeking my clitoris, almost sent me crazy with pleasure by gently rubbing it. He then turned me over on my belly and patted the cheeks of my buttocks, which he swore were whiter than driven snow. He titillated both my clitoris and bottom at the same time, but noticing by my convulsive movements that I was on the eve of spending, he suddenly desisted. Restoring me to my former position on my back, and throwing himself on top of me, he inserted his staff of love into the pouting lips of my moss-covered slit. No sooner had I felt the delicious morsel pierce me to the quick than I passed one of my arms round his neck and pressed him convulsively to my bosom. I then clasped his loins with my thighs and legs and strained myself so closely to him that the very hair of our genitals intermingled. A large mirror hung beside the bed and I could see our forms reflected in it. I could see his instrument imbedded to the very hilt in my Mons Veneris, the tips of which clasped it tightly. He now commenced to work his plump buttocks up and down. I replied by a corresponding motion and we kept time admirably together. The thrilling rapture, the delicious sensations of that ecstatic period is out of my power to describe. When I felt his hot pego rushing in and out of my sensitive vagina, I squirmed and wriggled under his fierce thrusts, and I thought my breath would leave my body. At last the dissolving period approached. I could tell it was coming on by his more rapid thrusts, by his half-drawn sighs, by his interrupted breathing, and more especially, by a peculiar suction which my vagina exercised on his rod. I spurred his bottom with my heels, I pressed him to me, I bit him in the agony of my delight, and just as I was discharging, I passed my hand underneath his thigh and tickled his testicles.

“I am coming, darling Kate,” he exclaimed. “Oh God, I come, I co-!”

“I too, Harry,” I exclaimed, “there, there! there!”

He made two more vigorous thrusts to which I responded with such vigor that it made his testicles butt against my bottom, and the next moment we were both dissolved in bliss.

He then withdrew from me and lay down by my side. A delightful conversation followed in which he told me how much he loved me and how faithful he would always be to me. While we were thus conversing I had hold of his instrument while he was playing with my center of love. In a short time I felt his staff swelling beneath my grasp, and it was soon in a state of princely erection again. We again resumed the rites of Venus.

This time he stretched himself all his length on his back and drew me on top of him. He clasped me around the waist, while I myself guided his dart into my bower, which was burning to receive it. He then insisted that I should pump up his spermatic treasures myself while he would remain perfectly passive. I was quite agreeable, and began an up-and-down motion. My vagina fitted his pego like a glove, and I had not played horsewoman a dozen times before I felt his boiling sperm inundate my womb, while I also poured down my share of love’s elixer in such profusion that it wetted both thighs and belly.

I shall not detain the reader by detailing how many times we sacrificed ourselves to the shrine of Venus that night, nor shall I depict all the postures and modes we persued, as I have many similar scenes to depict; suffice it to say that when we got up the next morning we were both thoroughly exhausted, and pale and feeble from our unwonted exertions.

For six weeks I enjoyed sexual delights in every possible form not a day passing without at least one experience of my cousin’s capabilities. At the end of that time he was compelled to return home. He left me with the most ardent protestations of love and devotion, and took an oath that he would marry none but me. I had such a confidence in him that I firmly believed his word.