The man looked down in silence at the tense phallus, that did not change.⁠—“Ay!” he said at last, in a little voice. “Ay ma lad! tha’rt theer right enough. Yi, tha mun rear thy head! Theer on thy own, eh? an’ ta’es no count o’ nob’dy! Tha ma’es nowt o’ me, John Thomas. Art boss? of me? Eh well, tha’rt more cocky than me, an’ tha says less. John Thomas! Dost want her ? Does want my Lady Jane? Tha’s dipped me in again, tha hast. Ay, an’ tha comes up smilin’⁠—Ax ’er then! Ax Lady Jane! Say: Lift up your heads o’ ye gates, that the king of glory may come in. Ay, th’ cheek on thee! Cunt, that’s what tha’rt after. Tell Lady Jane tha wants cunt. John Thomas, an’ th’ cunt o’ Lady Jane!⁠—”

“Oh, don’t tease him,” said Connie, crawling on her knees on the bed towards him and putting her arms round his white slender loins, and drawing him to her so that her hanging, swinging breasts touched the tip of the stirring, erect phallus, and caught the drop of moisture. She held the man fast.

“Lie down!” he said. “Lie down! Let me come!”