Printed for the Society of Vice, The Pearl — Christmas Annual
“ I could hear the concussion at every stroke as his piston rod was sheathed to the hilt, and the bag of treasures below banged against her beautiful rump. Their kisses and sighs, or exclamations of delight mingled with the other sounds, and the creaking of the bed, all put together so moved the blood in my veins that lifting my night-dress, my hands were soon busy rubbing the electrical spot till we all seemed to melt away in an ecstasy of bliss at the same moment. ”
