I attempted it the next day and at every opportunity in the house and out of it, till new servants came. She felt my prick, would look at it, squeeze the balls, talk about fucking and bawdiness to any extent, tell me what she had seen, and what she had heard about such matters. She at length scarcely resisted my feeling her bum, belly and legs, yet I never got my finger on to her slit, so as to feel the moisture; for she closed her little legs and wriggled, or got away from me somehow. Once or twice when I got a little rough, she set up a squeal, and I desisted. I offered her money. She replied, “No thank you, I am not going to spoil my chance that way.” Our conversation used to begin by my saying, “How is your duff?” “Oh! nicely, thank you; how is your jock?” “All right and stiff, waiting for your duff.” “Then it will wait a long time,” and so on. It always ending in my trying to feel her, and getting no further. At length they left, new servants coming.
I frequently saw her afterwards, and always began the same game. My mother was told I had been seen talking to her, so after that I only spoke to her at dusk. Sometime afterwards she married a gardener, and I occasionally saw her, but recognition came to a knowing nod and smile, which she always returned. Meanwhile I had got my fortune, as I shall tell; had no end of women, and had forgotten her, when walking across a field not far from our house, I overtook a short woman with a little child, and it was she. A shower came on, and we went into a barn, no one was in it. She told me I was said to be a “dreadful chap after the gals.” “You know all about that now,” said I. “Yes,” she replied with a grin, and gradually talking baudier, we went on, until in a few minutes I had laid her down and fucked her on the hay. “I told you I would do it,” said I. “But you didn’t when you said you would,—now it won’t matter.” That was her notion. The rain continuing, she said she must go, whether wet or dry. Neither of us had an umbrella. She pulled her gown over her head, and saying, “You won’t tell anyone, will you,” took the child by the hand and was going, when my appetite came again. I pulled her back, and with little persuasion, again went up her. She enjoyed the fuck greatly. As I lay on the top of her we heard a bang, and the barn grew dark; a man was shutting the door. “Ulloh!” said he, “I didn’t know anyone was there; I hope I ain’t disturbed you.” We made no reply, but out we went. “You will have a boy out of this,” said I. “I hope I shall,” said she. That was the end of my adventure, for I never had her again, and she soon left the neighborhood. It was her own little child that was with her.
Though I have (as I shall in other cases) told all I had to do with her consecutively, yet between the time when she was in our house, and the time of meeting her at the barn, three or four years must have elapsed; and didn’t we talk bawdy in the barn before I got into her. That may have warmed her up, yet I believe she wanted me, as soon as she found herself alone with me. Her little child witnessed the business.
Just at this time or a little later, an adventure of a serious kind occurred to me.
The streets leading out of the Waterloo road were then occupied much by gay women. Some were absolutely full of them; they were mostly of a class to be had for a few shillings if they could not get more (my Granby street adventure has been already told). but many a swell I have noticed lingering about there. My mother now took nearly all my money for my board, but with the little remaining, I had a knock off occasionally. It was one of my pleasures to walk up those streets when dark and talk with the women at the windows, which were always open whatever the weather, unless someone as within engaged with the ladies.
Each woman had generally but one room, but two or three used to sit together in the front room in their chemises. There was the bed, wash-stand, chamber pot and all complete. Perhaps one lolled out of the window, showing her breasts, and if you gave such a one a shilling, she would stoop so that you could see right down past her belly to her knees, and have a glimpse of her cunt-fringe. Sometimes one would pull up her garter, or another sit down and piddle, or pretend to do so, or have recourse to other exciting devices when men peeped in.
I used to look in and long. Sometimes had a shilling peep, and then bashfully asked for a feel of the cunt for it. I so often succeeded, that ever since then I wanted that amusement, have offered a shilling for a feel, and met with but few refusals in any part of London. Sometimes it ended in a fuck. Once or twice to my astonishment they took mere trifles, and as I think of it, there is wonderfully little difference between the woman you have for five shillings, and the one you pay five pounds, excepting in the silk, linen, and manners.
One night I saw a woman with very fat breasts looking out of the window (I was then fond of stout women); and after talking a minute, asked her if she would let me feel her cunt for a shilling. “Yes,” said she. In I went, down she shut the window, and in another minute I was groping her. She did not let me feel her long. I had not felt such a bum since Mary’s (already told of), and it so wetted my appetite, that I struck a bargain for a fuck. She was soon stripped, and all I now recollect about her is, that her cunt was large and covered with hair of a brownish colour; that her eyes were dark; and that she seemed full twenty-five years of age. I fucked her on a sofa.
When I had buttoned up she produced a book full of bawdy pictures of which I then had seen but few; and I went a second time to see the book, rather than her. Looking over it, she pointed out to me with a laugh, several pictures of men putting their pricks into women’s arse-holes, and into the rumps of other men. Having never before seen such pictures, and having no idea of the operation, I felt modest, and turned to others; but she so regularly as we turned over the leaves pointed out this class, that my sense of shame gave way to curiosity; and not believing, asked if it was possible to do it so. “Lord yes,” said she. “Does it not hurt?” said I. “Not if properly done,” she replied, and went on to say it was delicious some men thought; and she talked altogether in a very knowing way about it; told me how it was best to grease the hole first, then the prick, and to shove gently, and went on so, that I said on a sudden, “Why, you have done it, I think.” “Yes, but only with a particular friend of mine who is very fond of it,—and so am I; it is better than the other.”
I felt shocked, bewildered, and excited. The subject dropped, but she sat feeling me, slipping her finger under my balls, and pressing my arse-hole with her finger. I prepared to fuck. She suggested she should kneel with her buttocks towards me, so that she could feel my balls when my prick was up her. I assented, and her bum-cheeks were presented to me. Excited by her conversation and her hints, I looked curiously at her large slit, and then at her bum-hole; I touched the latter, and she drove her bum back upon my finger with a laugh. I did not take her hint, but drove my prick into her quim and pushed in the regular fashion. Thinking of the pictures excited me and without knowing what I said, I suddenly pulled it out saying, “Let me put it into the other.” “Not tonight,” said she, “put your thumb a little way in, your nail is quite short” (she had noticed that I used to bite my thumbnails short). I instantly did, the next moment spent, and dropped over her back, waiting for the last drop of sperm to run off into her.
Her hints, her pictures, of which she had actually scores, stirred my curiosity, her manner disgusted me, yet my brain seemed affected. Is it possible, thought I, that a man’s prick can go in there?—impossible. And yet she says she has had it done to her, and my thumb went in easily enough. The more I thought, and the more I reflected how a hard turd hurt me sometimes in passing it, the more I was puzzled about the intense pleasure which she said the operation gave! To solve my doubts (although I had determined not), I went to her again, and saw the pictures. She again talked about them, until scarcely knowing what I was doing, “Will you let me?” I asked. “Don’t talk loud,” said she, “it will never do to let anyone know what we are at.” Our voices dropped to a whisper, whilst by her advice I pulled off trousers and drawers, and she stripped stark naked.
Then she carefully greased my pr
ick with pomatum, and put some on her arse-hole; it was the work of a minute, not a word was said. She then stark naked, sat by the side of me on the sofa, began fondling and kissing me, took my hand in hers and rubbed my fingers on her clitoris, half frigged herself with my fingers, I let her do what she liked. Then she turned round. “Put it in,” she said when her rump was towards me, “then give me your hand, and don’t push till I tell you.” Her arse-hole was at the level of my prick as I stood by the side of the sofa, my machine was like a rod of iron, my brains seemed on fire, I felt I was going to do something wrong, dreaded it, yet determined to do it. “Put it in, slowly,” said she in a whisper. The hole opened, felt tight, but to my astonishment almost directly my whole prick was hidden in it without pain to me or any difficulty. “Give me your hand.” I did. Again she began frigging herself with my fingers. “Rub, rub, push gently,” she said, and I tried, but was getting past myself. “Now,” said she with a spasmodic sort of half cry, half grunt. I felt my prick squeezed as in a vice, I shoved or rather scarcely began to do so when I discharged a week’s reserve up her rectum. My brain whirled with excitement, whilst she leaning over the pillows on the sofa, kept breathing hard and half snorting like a pig, still frigging herself with my fingers.
As my sense returned, I could scarcely believe where my prick was, excitement still kept it stiff, but desire had left me. I pulled it out with an indescribable horror of myself.
“Wasn’t it delicious?” said she. “I like it, don’t you? You may always do it so.” What I replied I know not; I washed, dressed and got out of the house as soon as I could. When in the street, I was sick. I ran off fearing someone would see me, got into a Hackney-coach and drove in the wrong direction; then got out and went a round-about way home, fearing someone was following to upbraid or expose me. I scarcely slept that night for horror of myself, never went up the street again for years, and never passed its end without shuddering, have no recollection of having had pleasure, or of any sensation whatever; all was dread to me. And so ended that debauch; one I was deliberately let into by that woman, having never thought of such doings before as possible, or at all, as far as I can recollect.
Chapter XII
I had now passed my twentieth year. The new servants were sisters (how many times have sisters fallen to me!); the eldest who was cook was named Sarah; the youngest, Susan. Sarah was about twenty-six, Susan nineteen or twenty. I carefully arranged the key in the keyhole of their door the first night, but saw nothing for two or three nights. Then oh! fortune again. They rose later than my mother liked; she came up to their room one morning and found them locked in, so she took away the key. Now I had as far as the keyhole permitted, a fair field, but then clothes hanging upon pegs on the door were often in my way; yet I was so persistent in looking when they went to bed, and arose, that I saw a great deal. How cunning I had got; I had filed and oiled the lock and hinges of my door and theirs, so that I could close and open them noiselessly, used to stoop daily with my eye to their keyhole, stepping from my room with naked feet. I was nearly caught several times, but never quite. It now seems wonderful that I was not.
I was so demure and quiet in talk about women always, and had kept myself so circumspectly, that my mother never had the least suspicion of me,—but in all matters of love and intrigue, mother always seemed to me as innocent as the babe unborn.
For all that, my mother just then, and to my dismay, seeing that my little games would be much interfered with, said I better change my room, and have one on the first floor. Mrs.———had remarked, that being a man now I ought not to sleep on the servants’ floor. “As you please,—it’s one flight of stairs less for me, but Mrs.———is a fool,” I cried. “And which room?” “Your sister’s. Annie will always be with her aunt adopted, and Jane is only at home in the holidays.” But I would not be pushed into a small room; where was my tub to stand? Where my books? I must have the spare room. There was much altercation, I made my mother cry by saying that when of age I would get chambers away from her, and into the spare room I moved.
It was next to my mother’s. Installed there I did nothing but complain of its inconvenience. I smoked incessantly in it. The smell got into mother’s bedroom, and she could not bear tobacco smoke. I made a noise when she was in bed,—that annoyed her. I did all in a quiet way to make her as uncomfortable as possible. An uncle and aunt who stopped with us when in town, just then came from the country; and not liking my sister’s room, went to an hotel, which wounded mother considerably, so she said I had better go upstairs again. I refused point blank; being down there I would remain, and so managed, that she thought I went back as a favour to her, and much against my will; but was I not glad!—and got to my spying immediately.
Within a month I had seen them both stark naked, for being sisters they had not hesitated to strip. I had seen the cook piddle, wash her cunt, and put on her napkin. Susan’s bed was not on the right side for me, but nevertheless I saw enough of her to compare her with her sister. Sarah was demure in manner, stout, with a splendid bum, and with little hair of a lightish brown at the bottom of her belly; she wore black stockings of which I then had a horror. Susan had a wicked, merry face, and a splendid bunch of dark hair on her motte which attracted me largely. It struck me that I should have a better chance with her than with her sister, and began making approaches; when one Saturday night seeing Sarah wash herself from head to foot, I got such glimpses of her round fine haunches, and the split between them, that I fell into a fit of randy adoration, which settled the direction of my attentions to her instead of Susan.
I feared to go on with either, because they were sisters, but lust got the better of my fears. I began kissing cook Sarah; who returned it saying, she would not have her sister know it on any account. Shortly after I kissed Susan, who made nearly the same remark; and I found that each was careful not to tell the other; which was just what had occurred with two sisters, of whom I have already written. This was very jolly. Meanwhile I once or twice had a cheap poke on the road, but always with fear of disease.
I had but little chance of the cook having now no pretext for going into the kitchen, and the sisters were not much separated; but I looked up my chances indefatigably, and finding Sunday favorable, to the horror of my mother, left off going to church in the morning because the cook was then alone. After our early Sunday dinner, I used to go to my bed room nominally to lay down, but really to look through the keyhole at the cook who on that day only, dressed and washed herself in the middle of the day, her sister being downstairs. I got on but slowly; in two months only having taken outside liberties; till meeting Susan coming away from the privy one day, I saw her press her clothes against her belly to dry her cunt, and she saw me. Whenever I met her afterwards I used to tuck my frock-coat between my legs and smile at her. It was an old dodge.
I had then bought a Fanny Hill which I kept in my bed room locked up. One morning I forgot to put it by, thought of it and rushed upstairs, entered the room where the servants had been making the bed, and saw Sarah intently looking at the book. I had feared that my mother had entered my room, and seen the book. I stood for an instant motionless, she turned round, gave a cry, dropped the book, and rushed out of the room, her face like blood. I locked the book up feeling somewhat uneasy, but afterwards joked her about it and the smutty pictures, and this took effect.
There was a fair held not far from us at that time, the girls were to go there each on separate evenings. Before Sarah went out, I went out, she had agreed to meet me at the fair; it was dusk, she had a female friend with her. We went into a dancing booth and had drink, then into the long room of stalls in which was a dance mob, shouting, crying, pushing each other, scratching backs, blowing trumpets, and speaking bawdily to the women. As it got later, the men used to feel outside the women’s cunts, and many a so-called modest girl felt a man’s prick outside, and passing in the mob without being found out. Many a grab have I had at my prick which cou
ld only have been done by a woman, who looked quite demure whilst she did it. I got excited, put Sarah in front of me, and in the first rush, put my hand round and gave her cunt outside her clothes a grab. She upbraided me, rushing out of the crowd at the side to escape me, I after her, into a dark passage, between the backs of the booths, where men were pissing. They hailed her with laughter, asking her if she had come to piddle. Back into the crowd she rushed, I with her, and did the same thing, talking bawdily, and kept this up until it was time for her to go home.
I said I should walk home with her. The village-road had but occasional oil-lamps; at places it was quite dark, loving couples were walking or turning off into dark bye-places by hedges and fences to satisfy their amatory wants. This I pointed out to her, and talked of the prints she had seen in Fanny Hill that morning. Altogether she had gone through enough that day and night to make a female randy. Suddenly a girl in the dark squealed, and a masculine voice in the dark shouted up, “That’s right, shove your prick well up her, old boy.” I tried it on with Sarah on the way home, but it was no go. I felt her bum and thighs, got her hand on to my prick, but she would not let me have her.
Next night I was at the fair, and met her sister Susan there by chance. I got excited and tried the same dodge with her, she had also a female friend with her. I pressed their bellies and pinched their burnt when in the crowd; her friend went off with her young man, then I had Susan alone and tried pushing my hand against her belly, more than ever; she took no notice. Her friend and we then met again face to face in the mob. I had an impression that a feel at my balls must have come from her friend. We all went to a public-house and had drink; there suddenly she bid me good-bye, saying it was late, and she must get home, set off running and was out of sight in a minute.
Erotic Classics II Page 87
