"Lady Pokingham or They All Do It" is a classic Victorian erotic novel, published in 1883. It contains graphic sexual descriptions and themes. As you may guess, I was an apt pupil, although so young. Her touches fired my blood, and the way she sucked my tongue seemed most delicious. “Ah! Oh! Rub harder, harder—quicker,” she gasped, as she stiffened her limbs out with a kind of spasmodic shudder, and I felt my finger all wet with something warm and creamy. She covered me with kisses for a moment, and then lay quite still. “What is it, Alice? How funny you are, and you have wetted my finger, you nasty girl,” I whispered, laughing. “Go on tickling me with your fingers, I begin rather to like it.” “So you will, dear, soon, and love me for teaching you such a nice game,” she replied, renewing her frigging operations, which gave me great pleasure so that I hardly knew what I was doing, and a most luscious longing sensation came over me. I begged her to shove her fingers right up. “Oh! Oh! How nice! Further! Harder!” and almost fainted with delight as she at last brought down my first maiden spend. Next night we repeated our lascivious amusements, and she produced a thing like a sausage, made of soft kid leather, and stuffed out as hard as possible, which she asked me to push into her, and work up and down, whilst she frigged me as before, making me lay on the top of her, with my tongue in her mouth. It was delightful. I can’t express her raptures, my movements with the instrument seemed to drive her into ecstasies of pleasure, she almost screamed as she clasped my body to hers, exclaiming, “Ah! Oh! You dear boy; you kill me with pleasure!” as she spent with extraordinary profusion all over my busy hand.