. . Oh! that I were a man for your sake! ...
with the like broken expressions, interrupted by kisses as
fierce and fervent as ever I received from the other sex.
For my part, I was transported, confused, and out of
myself; feelings so new were too much for me. My heated
and alarm'd senses were in a tumult that robbed me of all
liberty of thought; tears of pleasure gush'd from my eyes,
and somewhat assuaged the fire that rag'd all over me.
Phoebe, herself, the hackney'd, thorough-bred Phoebe,
to whom all modes and devices of pleasure were known and
familiar, found, it seems, in this exercise of her art to
break young girls, the gratification of one of those arbi-
trary tastes, for which there is no accounting. Not that
she hated men, or did not even prefer them to her own sex;
but when she met with such occasions as this was, a satiety
of enjoyments in the common road, perhaps too, a secret
bias, inclined her to make the most of pleasure, wherever
she could find it, without distinction of sexes. In this
view, now well assured that she had, by her touches, suf-
ficiently inflamed me for her purpose, she roll'd down
the bed-cloaths gently, and I saw myself stretched nak'd,
my shift being turned up to my neck, whilst I had no power
or sense to oppose it. Even my glowing blushes expressed
more desire than modesty, whilst the candle, left (to be
sure not undesignedly) burning, threw a full light on my
whole body.
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