There was a middle-aged man with whom I chummed much at my Club, a major retired, and a most debauched individual. He borrowed money of me, and did not repay it. His freedom of talk about women made him much liked by the younger men; the older said it was discreditable to help younger men to ruin. Ordinarily very careful how I spoke about women (for my loves having lain much in my mother’s house, caution had become habitual to me). I one night talked about virgins and of getting them. He said such things were done; that Harridans got a young lass, if well paid for it, but that they generally sold the girls half-a-dozen times over, “and,” said he, “they train the young bitches so, there is no finding them out; you may pay for one who was first fucked by a butcher boy, and then her virginity sold to a dandy; you may pay for it my boy, and not find out you have been done.” I pondered much over this, and the next night returned to the subject. His opinion was that an old stager like him was not to be done; but that any randy young beggar would go up the girl, and flatter himself he had had a virgin, if the girl was cunning. “When you see the tight covered hole with your eye, find it tight to your little finger, and then tight to your cock, my boy; when you have satisfied your eye, your finger, and your cucumber, and seen blood on it, you may be sure you have had one,—and not otherwise.”
Thought I, “I am going to be humbugged.” Another week, no letter, I went to her lodgings, and found she had taken away everything she had with her. That night I told a little of my hopes to the Major, not telling him who the kind lady was, or where she was gone; but it made him laugh. “You are done brown my boy, done brown; that woman will never turn up again.” He joked me so, that I avoided him, and kept the subject to myself afterwards.
Again to the lodgings; the landlady could not keep them vacant any longer; I paid the rent, but she got no perquisites, I increased the allowance. Then again I went; the landlady said she did not expect to see her again. I had now set my heart on having this virgin; ten weeks nearly had gone; I said if Camille was not back next week she might let the rooms. It passed; a bill was put up in the window, and the next morning calling as a forlorn hope, there was a letter for me,—she would be back in a week. I was in a state of excitement that week, and kept myself chaste, with the idea of the virgin cunt, and Camille’s well-paced roger-ing in anticipation.
The day came. I was so impatient, that I was there quite early; she arrived some hours earlier than she had said, and seemed surprised at finding me; my impression is that she did not want me to be there when she came back. She came in a hackney-coach; a stoutish full-sized young woman with a funny bonnet and long cloak on, got out of the coach with her, and in a free-and-easy way helped the things upstairs. She called her Louise. The wench put down a big box, and on my turning round after giving Camille a kiss, I saw she had seated herself on it, and hands on her knees was looking at me. “Uncord the box,” said Camille. Said the girl, “I am tired.” She uncorded it, again sitting down, and looking at me said, “Is that your young man?—he’s a good-looking fellow.” Camille told her to hold her tongue, to go on unpacking, and that I understood French, eying her at the same time in a savage way, and looking at me at times very uneasily. She was a rough sort of girl, she said, a relative of a friend of hers, had come as her servant, and in a short time would understand her place; smiling at me in a knowing way as she said that. Camille always addressed her servant in French, me in English; but I understood French tolerably well.
Louise did as she was told, but bounced about in an independent way, threw off her cloak and bonnet, and putting her hands on her hips stared at me again. I stared at her, thinking of the virginity I was destined to break up. Certainly she was appetizing; her cloak off showed a thick woolen dress of dark brown striped with blue, a fine big figure, a couple of big breasts; her arms naked nearly to her shoulders, as French peasants usually wore them, were large, fleshy, and brown; the petticoats were half-way up to her knees, and showed the thickest woolen black stockings on a stout pair of legs, and feet in thick shoes with brass buckles; she had immense gilt earrings, and was in fact in the dress of a Bordeaux peasant woman.
I did nothing but stare at her, Camille nothing but scold her, talking to me at intervals. The girl got the boxes ready for opening, then walked about, taking up poker and tongs, chimney ornaments and everything in the room with curiosity. Camille and I had so much to say, that we took little notice of her; then she threw up the window and looked out. As she bent forward her short petticoats showed her legs up to her knee-backs; Camille was about to stop her looking out, when I winked, and stooping saw a thick roll of stockings just beneath the knees, and the flesh just above. Camille understood. “Madame, madame,” said the girl, “come here, here is fun.” I heard Punch squeaking in the streets; she was delighted; her mistress went to the window giving me a knowing look, and looking out of the window with the girl, put her hands over the girl’s petticoats and lifted them slightly. Louise took no heed of this being so engrossed with Punch; I dropped on my knees and saw half-way up the girl’s thighs. I had been chaste for a few weeks, or nearly so, the sight of Camille had fired me, the thighs finished me; I shoved my hands up Camille’s petticoats on to her arse, got her into her bed room, and with her clothes in a lump on her belly, drove up my prick, spending directly I got up her cunt.
With half my spendings outside, half inside I lay with throbbing prick, which only came out when it had spent again. Camille vowed she had not had a man for weeks, and took it out of me, perhaps fearing if I went away with stiffening left, some other cunt would take it out. The ballocking over I went home.
I was early there the next day; Louise had been installed in the little room leading out of the sitting room. Camille told me a great deal about the distance she had gone, and the trouble and expense she had been put to in getting the girl’s relatives to let her come; she hoped I would pay the additional expenses; and that I did at a cost of about twenty pounds. What with that and paying for her journey, and for lodgings while absent, Louise had cost me nearly ninety pounds already. Then I undertook to pay for the additional room, in which a bed having been put, an extra was charged; cooking now being done downstairs. Then Louise must have a new gown; then Camille thought I ought to give her something for herself, because whilst away for me she had made no money. That I refused and blazed up about it; for all that agreed to pay for a new silk dress for her, and a lot of little odds and ends on the second day of Camille’s return, for all of which outlays I had only had a peep up the girl’s petticoats.
Then I had a talk about her. The girl was the daughter of a small grape-grower, a friend of Camille’s; they thought Camille was in London as a dressmaker, making a lot of money, because she sent money home to her father. Camille offered to take her, saying she would be sure to get on, if not in one way, then in another; that good-looking girls always did well in London. The girl was mad to come, and persuaded her parents to let her do so; believing that Camille got her living honestly; she was to be her servant until she could be put in the way of doing well.
“What are you going to tell her now? what are you going to do with her? what will she say when she finds out?” I asked.
Camille did not know. The girl would find out, and then she must excuse herself as well as she could, would say it was better, and jollier, and more money making than to make dresses. Besides, the girl could not help herself, and would have to make the best of it.
When was I to have her? I asked. As soon as I could get her; there she was, and I might try when and how I liked; help me more she could not, she could not insist on Louise letting me; but no doubt she would in time, no one else should have her.
I was not so sure of that. Camille was gay, and although I had for more than a year excluded most men from the house, yet she did have other men there, and I knew they would see the girl, might like her, might pay Camille; all the remarks of the retired major came strongly before me, and I thought I was going to be
sold, and said so.
She replied that I was not; she would leave me with the girl when I liked; if the girl spoke to her she would advise her to let me, but would have nothing to do with influencing her beyond that; and when the event came off, she meant to be out, so that Louise’s friends could not say anything. If she went gay it was no fault of hers, young women would have it done to them, it was natural. That was the game she meant to play.
I saw that I had paid her only for bringing a girl, and must take my chance of getting into her; all she would do was to keep the coast clear. I don’t know what I really did expect Camille to do, but think I imagined that she would have got the girl in bed with her some night, let me get into bed with them, and helped to make her fuck, if she would not. This was dissipated, I was to have the chance I should have had with a servant in my mother’s house, or less, for this girl I should not see so often, and could not be sure she would be so well looked after.
So Camille went out, leaving me alone with the servant whenever I wished. I expect she went with other men at houses of friends, and so got her time paid for twice over, and made a good thing of it; perhaps she thought, the longer this lasted the better it would be for her. I think now that that was her game.
Finis Volume One
Volume Two
Chapter I
I went to work to get into Louise, having no compunctions, it seemed to me the most natural thing in the world. I had read about the naughtiness of seduction, but my associates had taught me, that every girl wanted fucking, and was longing secretly for it, high, or low, rich or poor, it was the same. As to servants, and women of the humbler class, that they all took cock on the quiet, and were proud of having a gentleman to cover them. Such was the opinion of men in my class of life and of my age. My experience with my mother’s servants corroborated it; and so to get into Louise seemed both natural and proper.
I suppose there is but one way ordinarily of beginning with a woman. A man must first make himself agreeable, then successively familiar, endearing, coaxing, loose, bold, bawdy, determined, then if needs be fierce, or even violent. This order comes naturally to man cunt-hunting, and ends in fucking. It does not follow that if the early stages pass easily, that the last shall ensure success. Occasionally the woman is scared, put on her guard against herself, and the man, and the chance is lost.
This course had become familiar to me at home, and I began. No person in the house except Camille and Madame Boileau spoke French; there was no other to speak at all, so my conversation was acceptable. At the end of a week I had kissed her to her contentment. No strong, healthy woman of eighteen is otherwise than gratified by the kisses of a young man. Money I knew now told much, and I gave to her who had never perhaps had five shillings to call her own. She gave me a kiss in the dark passage, I hugged her and pushed outside at her cunt, she ran upstairs angry, but had forgot it the next day.
Looking at her and longing used to make me randy, then if near, Camille’s cunt got the benefit of it. The girl used to eye us when we went into the bed room. She had a quarrel with her mistress, and said she should go home. Camille said she might; but speaking only French, and without money, how could she? Just then, through change of climate and living, she fell ill.
We were very kind to her. I got her everything. When asleep one day, Camille partly uncovered her, and showed me her limbs naked; they were so fine, and so excited me, that but for Camille, I think I should have ravished her. She soon got well, and I said, that if I did not soon have her, I should cease seeing her. “Who hindered?” Camille asked. There she was, I might have her.
Then I had a suspicious fit. All the old Major had told me about fellows being sold, and taken in by women who were not virgins came to my mind. The girl was never out but for a few minutes at a time to fetch things, yet other men saw Camille, and some might have seen and had the girl. Camille had once taken her out in a cab; she might have been to some man’s. So I said I would not give the money unless I saw her virgin cunt first. After a day or two, Camille agreed to it if I would give her ten pounds down, and would swear never to disclose it to the girl.
I thought still I was to be fooled, so I called upon my old schoolfellow, who used to say, “Snatch at her cunt, and show her your cucumber.” He had been one at the frigging match, and had just been appointed assistant-surgeon at a hospital; he was a bachelor and bawdy-minded as ever. “M—,” said I, “have you ever seen a virginity?” “Many,” he replied, “I have dissected them, and if girls have anything the matter with their wombs, or cunts, we get a look, they don’t mind a doctor. If a girl has piles, I make her turn up, and have opened several fine women’s virgin cunts, asking questions all the while, if they feel this or feel that. They say yes or no, which of course I knew they would say, but they think I am very clever for asking. Some like a young doctor’s fingers on their privates, though they say they object. Assistants only get the chance with the poor, the better classes have older married men.”
I asked him to explain one to me on a woman, and he did. We went home with the same women; they were astonished, for instead of pulling our pricks out, we both merely felt and looked at them, and he gave me a full lecture. It was an odd sight to see him explaining the situation of a virginity, I holding a candle to see better. One of the girls roared with laughter, the others fancied they had some ailments, when they found out he was a doctor, and he gave them advice.
I don’t mean ailments of their cunts. We did not fuck either of the women.
From reading, his descriptions, his sketches and what he pointed out on three different cunts, I felt satisfied that I should know a virgin, and told Camille what I had done. She was then good enough to point out to me on her own cunt, where her virginity had been, as far as she could recollect it. She was quite sure about Louise, and explained that girls being with their parents in France were well watched; that the loose pricks about a town were all taken by the married women,—which I did not believe.
One night I was to see it, I waited for a signal from a window, of two lights, rushed across the road and was let in by Camille. We went into Louise’s bedroom. There the girl lay in her night-dress on the bed, insensible. “We must be quick,” said Camille. Then she threw the girl’s clothes rapidly up above her naval, gently pulled apart her legs, and held open the lips of the girl’s cunt. It was such as had been described to me. My excitement was fearful. She was a splendid limbed woman, looked twenty-five instead of eighteen years old. Her cunt-hair jet-black, crisp and thick as on a negress’ head, grew up her mens and down besides the lips. The vermillion stripe in the midst of it was enough to drive any man mad. I put out my hand to touch it, but Camille pulled it back. “No, no,” she said in a suppressed voice, “you must go, you promised me.” “Let me fuck then.” “No, go at once.” She pulled me towards the door, the girl was breathing heavily. Wild with lust, I pulled out my prick. “Come away, you promised, she must see neither of us.” “One look more then.” Again Camille opened the cunt-lips.
As she did so, Louise gave a groan, and turned round on one side opening her eyes wide. Camille blew out the light, and pulled me into the sitting room. “You must go,” she said. I wanted to fuck her, but she would not let me.
I met a woman in Regent street, it was raining hard. Much as I still hesitated at going with strange, gay women, I went home with her, threw her down with her clothes on. The instant I saw her cunt, and almost before I could get my prick out I spent over her bum and thighs. She remarked, “You did want it, and no mistake.” I left, got down to the Italian Opera. Crowds of women walked under the Colonade, they often then wore low dresses walking. I went to a bawdy house with one, and fucked her thinking of the black-haired motte and lips between the thighs of the unconscious Louise.
I never knew what Camille had given the girl. She said she had made her drunk with champagne. Louise on a subsequent day said she had got drunk with champagne, but she never
knew that I had seen her on that night. I believe that something else had been given to her to make her insensible. There was a convulsive movement in her body as she turned round; her limbs before she did so seemed dead, her breathing resembled a groan, her breast heaved distressingly, she opened her eyes, but saw nothing. The more I reflected, the less I understood the agitation of Camille, who usually was so calm.
I had seen the girl’s virgin cunt, and recollect the look of pussy, belly, thighs, and slit. The cunt-hole as I held the candle near it seemed to be covered, excepting a little perforation just big enough to put a little finger through, corresponding with my surgical friend’s description; yet I seemed to have less recollection of it than of all the rest of her body. It was confused, strange, like the remains of a dream on my mind. So much had suspicion taken possession of me, that I was by no means now sure I was not being done. I paid Camille the ten pounds. When she had got them, she said she expected the fifty pounds all the same, that the cunt inspection was a preliminary she had not bargained for. I thought I was being cheated, and said so. We had a row, but such a fool was I, so much desire had I to get into this girl,—simply because she was a virgin,—that at last I agreed to it.
Erotic Classics II Page 91
