The light went out, there was a glimmer from the hot fire. Said one getting off, “Is there no other candle?” “No.” “You must get down to the kitchen for one, we can’t go up without light.” Off went one, slipping her gown on first. The other gently stirred the fire, sat down, put her hand on her cunt, and frigged it. I can’t say if she had pleasure, but her head fell back, and one side her face was then towards me. I saw it all by the flame of the fire, which she had poked. The other came back with two bits of candle, and they went away, having put on their gowns, carrying their other clothes with them, neither having bathed. Then I went off to my own bed room, frigged out. The loudness with which the servants talked, compared with the young ladies, was very noticeable, though when on the top of each other on the settee at the end of the room, I could not hear a word.
Chapter XIII
When I awakened on Sunday, I thought I had been dreaming, the images of a dozen and more modest naked women passed through my brain. I could think of nothing else, waited at the gate to see the young ladies go off to church, and followed at a distance, walking with Mrs. Maria. I tried to guess from the backs of the ladies which was which, every now and then looked at Mrs. Maria, thinking of the hirsute charms of her cunt and arm-pits. At church in an old-fashioned square pew, I could see many of the young ladies’ faces, and looked at them during the whole service, thought at times that I mistook one for the other;—but no, although each had a bonnet on, and was in full dress, I recognized each face, recollected, bum, bubby, and motte of each. My well-frigged cock stood from Psalms to Sermon. I went to church in the afternoon, because a few pious girls liked two services. My cousins, and two other young ladies dined at the Reverend’s, it always was an early dinner, to let him get to church. In the evening I again went to church, because the servants went; and sat close to the two women who had played at flat-fucking. The astonishment of my aunt at my going to church three times was so great, that although I told her I went because I did not know what to do with myself, she wrote to my mother about it.
On Sunday night Fred returned. You may guess we saw on the Monday the morning bathings. I told him all excepting that his sister had come to bathe. “Did———and———come?” (naming her and cousin). “No.” He was satisfied. I told him about the two servants. Why I lied about my cousins I cannot think, but was half ashamed of looking at all, and it seemed more sinful to have seen my cousins than anyone else.
Afterwards Fred told me that in India he kept three young girls all together in a bungalow; had bought them from their parents as virgins at about twenty shillings each. He was conversant with female life there, and explained how the women satisfied their leches with each other in harems, if they could not get men. His girls, he said, did it, and did it before him. I was amazed and wondered, and half thought him lying. All my knowledge of women extended to their relations with men, and although I had seen twice women on the top of each other, and seen one gamahuche another, I still regarded them as bawdy tricks got up for my amusement; and had never realized the idea of women having leches for each other, as men have for frigging each other. The latter had indeed passed away from my mind as a boyish habit, no desire to feel a prick then entered my mind, I even disliked touching a man. So I heard what Fred told me, but remained incredulous, and was approaching middle-age before I realized the fact that frigging another fellows doodle was agreeable, and that some women find similar pleasures with their own sex. The flat-cocking of the two if they were at it, which I now don’t doubt, left no agreeable or voluptuous impression on me.
After breakfast having no shooting, Fred and I went to town to see our women. Five minutes after our arrival, both were being fucked. We found sitting with Mabel and Laura, the mistress of Lord A———, and will call her Lady A—. After we had pumped our sperm out, we all went into the sitting room, Lady A— was there still. Fred asked me what I had been doing, I asked him the same, there was a general warm talk without coarse language. Lady A— told the girls they were lucky, for she had not seen Lord A— for a month, and had not had anything done to her for that length of time.
Fred then went out, and returned in an hour. Taking me a side he showed me bawdy engravings, which he meant to throw into the garden of the school, where the young ladies walked daily after breakfast if fine. I objected that his sister and cousin might find them. He did not care. “It will make them all so damned randy, that they won’t know whether their arses are at their backs or fronts.” This was all through my telling him what I had heard the two girls in the bathroom say to each other; and he actually that night got over the wall, into the pleasure-grounds, and laid the prints in a long building, half shed half summerhouse. From his bed room window we could see over the wall which separated the Reverend’s garden from the school-garden. I suggested sending them to a young lady by post. “No, she would keep them to herself.” I must mention that each lady had a separate bedroom; they were not allowed to go to each other’s bed room, they met only at meals, or in the class room, or drawing room, or when out of doors. No,—the prints had better be seen by several, they would tell each other, and thus all see them. The idea of the girls seeing bawdy pictures tickled us immensely. I had then wondered why the school-mistresses made it a rule that no lady should go into another’s bed room, and once asked my female cousin. She said she did not know.
Directly after breakfast we saw the ladies in the garden, pulled down our blind, and peeped. “There is Carry,” said Fred laughing as his sister showed among them. We saw a group approach the spot, the next instant all their heads were close together, looking at something. Every now and then one would stealthily look up towards the house, then another would, as if they feared being seen. On being joined by two or three others, they all moved out of sight into the shed, and we saw no more.
Fred was delighted, he did nothing but suggest how such and such a one felt at that moment. “I dare say their cunts are as hot as fire, their thighs squeeze, their arses wriggle as they walk; they will all frig themselves tonight.”
Fred soon afterwards said he must go to town by the next train. I would go too. “I must go to so and so,” said he, “so can’t be with you much.” I resolved to stay. Going into the house I saw Mrs. Maria dressed, she was going to town. “I will walk with you,” said Fred, “to the station, we shall go up together.” Mrs. Maria went to London to make purchases, and do all the business for the school. Neither came back till the latest train; I was sitting smoking with the Reverend when his wife returned, she looked worn out. Soon afterwards in came Fred, who looked as if he had been out all night. Said he to Mrs. Maria in a surprised manner, “Have you only just returned?” “Yes,” said she in an innocent way. “We have both come by the same train then without knowing it,” he replied.
I don’t know what thoughts led to it, but the conviction came over me that he had seen Maria’s thighs closer than he did through the cracks in the bath room partition. I noticed his manner next morning, saw him look at her, and she at him at breakfast, and said to myself, “He has fucked her.”
Next day we had shooting. At night Fred went to town. Next day Mrs. Maria went, and came home late, Fred not returning till the following morning. Mrs. Maria looked so tired that her husband noticed it. “She has had her belly-full again,” I said to myself. As she took her bath next morning (Fred not with me), she rubbed herself dry, put on her chemise, and felt her cunt; it was a prolonged feel. I told Fred of that. His remarks were evidently intended to mislead me.
We wanted to see the Saturday night bathing, though my aunt wanted to return home; but as we had shooting on Saturday, she consented to remain over Sunday. My cousins again dined with us at the Reverend’s, and two of my cousins’ special friends. What pleasure I had in looking at them, knowing the looks of their backs and bellies as well as their faces, wondering what they thought of the bawdy pictures, at the way in which women continue to look so modest, talk softly, look in a man’s fa
ce, and keep a demure demeanor, even if lust be stinging their cunts. It is the training in hypocrisy, which is so large a part of female education.
On Friday Fred sprained his leg, on the Saturday it was too stiff to go out shooting. I did, and returned to dinner. Mrs. Maria had attended to him, her husband was at church nearly all Saturday, so perhaps she had rubbed a little higher than his ankle. My aunt spent all the time she could at the school, or walking out with her daughter and niece.
Fred’s sprain was an excuse for going to his bedroom whither I accompanied him. In the dusty closet Fred’s lameness was better. In came the young ladies, the younger ones first. It was a pretty sight, a decently voluptuous one, to see the dainty white-fleshed creatures throw off their dresses, and stand naked, one by one entering the bath, rub their flesh dry, and their cunt-wigs free from moisture; to see one with her bum towards you, rubbing her back vigorously with a towel pulled straight with both hands, whilst her bum-cheeks, loins, and thighs quivered with the motion and friction. Another put one leg on a chair whilst she rubbed her quim dry. Then came the servants. Again I recollect having my lust more stirred at seeing the fuller grown women strip, and stand with boots and stockings on; than at seeing the virgin ladies naked. I can’t account for this at all. I write exactly what I recollect.
When we saw Fred’s sister, he whispered that all his family had a good deal of hair on their privates. I saw his prick soon afterwards. He spoke as if he were intimately acquainted with the cunts and pricks of the whole family. The two young ladies who looked at each other’s privates did not do so again, the flat-fuckers took no pleasure in each other’s arms, they soaped each other’s backs, and helped to dry each other; both rubbed themselves in front of the fire,—a fine couple of women. “I want to piddle so,” said one just as she finished bathing. “Piddle in the bath,” said the other, “there is no one else going into it.” And she did so standing up, then jumped rapidly out, and they both laughed.
I have seen before and since through keyholes and peep-holes women and men wash, but it was with difficulty. Here all was fairly clear. The crevice admitted enough sight, to distinguish form, face, feature, and colour of hair and eyes. I thought of it for years, but never told a man. Oftentimes when fucking, the bathing spectacle came into my mind, and fetched my sperm out of me in a moment.
The next morning we jobbed a few more holes between other boards, so as to make it look as if the shrinking of the wood had cracked the paper in more than one place, carefully closed the door and dipped the heads of the screws in vinegar to darken them. The whole looked rusty, and as we hoped when we had done no one would ever guess the game we had been up to. We swept up dust from the carpet, and pushed it under the bottom of the door, and I think our prank never was known. The old house is pulled down now.
I went to church again for the pleasure of staring at the ladies, it was rapture to look at them, and think of their virgin cunts, think they had seen the bawdy prints. My cousin Fred had gone out somewhere, Mrs. Maria, who usually went to church with her husband, was ill. In the middle of the service a thought came into my head. Feeling sure that Fred was after the middle-aged plump lady, I left the church, and went back, knocked at the door twice before it was opened, and then by Mrs. Maria. Said she, “I let both servants go out.” She told me this without my asking her anything, her hair seemed a little rough, her manner excited. I sat down, told her I had felt faint, and had a colic in church, and so had come home. “Fred has been unwell too,” said she. “Indeed?—I thought he was out.” “He returned, and has been in bed this hour.” “Oh!” said I. It was clear to me why her hair was rough. Fred was abed, but awake. Had Mrs. Maria been fucked on that bed?
My aunt and I left the next day, and went to the Manor-House; Fred to my astonishment could not get out of bed, so bad was his sprain; so we left him there. At the Hall I got so lewd that I went up to London, and rushed to Laura’s lodgings the next night.
“Both abed sir,” said the servant who let me in. Finding no one in Mabel’s room, I went down to the first floor. The women were in bed together. Laura opened the door to me, and got into bed again in the dark; for company sake they slept together when we men were both away, she said.
Lewd with prolonged chastity, the two servants in the bath room ran in my mind as I sat chatting in the dark room. After having slipped my hand under the clothing on to Mabel’s cunt, “Have you been amusing each other?—which was man, which woman?” were questions put and answered with real or assumed ignorance, but with some giggling. Laura as I have said never allowed a bawdy word, so I ceased; and Laura I suppose savage at Mabel having all the groping to herself, said, “You go first, and warm the bed, and Mabel will come up to you.” “No, you go and warm it for me Mabel.” “I won’t.” “Then I won’t.” Mabel seemed to me thick in speech, muddled in manner, and half asleep.
I fetched my candle. The women looked so fresh and handsome. “I’ll sleep with you both,” said I beginning to undress.
A slight altercation,—what would Fred say?—the servants think?—no she would not permit it,—she knew the games we should be up to. Mabel said, “No,—no, it wouldn’t do.” The more they said no, the quicker I undressed, and with prick lifting up my shirt, forced myself into bed, by the side of Mabel. Laura jumped out the other side, her white legs showing half-way up her thighs as she did so.
She stood by the bed-side wrangling, and looking at me as randy as possible, spite of herself. I should not stay,—she would not go to bed. “Well my dear Laura, go up to our bed.” “I shan’t.” Tired of standing in the cold she said, “Well will you promise to keep quiet?” “Perfectly.” “Come on,” said Mabel, “Fred won’t know.” So putting out the light into bed got Laura. Perhaps she thought she would like on the quiet to hear the amatory talk of Mabel and myself,—hear if she could not see or feel our tricks,—who knows?
“Turn your back to Mabel,—go to sleep Laura,—now you won’t see or hear.” “You know your promise,—don’t you let him Mabel.” “How can I help it?” said Mabel in a muddled manner. “You are a couple of dirty beasts,” said Laura turning her rump towards us. We heeded not, for we were fucking. Laura spoke not another word, she lay as if asleep. Then I fell fast asleep on the edge of the bed cuddling Mabel. It was close packing.
I awakened cold on one side, hot on the other next Mabel, who lay snoring profoundly. The regular breathing of Laura told me she was asleep. My prick was stiff, and as I thought of the two women by the side of me, it got ungovernable.
“How I should like a put into Laura,” I thought, but had a high sense of honor, and checked the desire. “What, Fred’s woman?—for shame Walter.—Well (reflecting) he took my two women in the country.—Yes,” replied my conscience, “but nothing made them yours,—not completely at least, one had had another man, but Laura is his woman, his temporary wife, he is fond of her, he keeps her.” But my prick kept throbbing with desire to be up her.
I thought of Fred’s description of the thick hair on her cunt, of the quickness with which she pissed, of all he had foolishly told me of her perfections, until my brain whirled. “There can’t be any harm in just feeling her flesh,—no one will know.” I could only guess where she was in the darkness; but carefully stretching my hand over Mabel quite slowly, it touched a bunch of nightgown, and then warm flesh. She was lying on her back, Mabel had her rump towards her. I raised myself gently up to feel further, touched the hips, the thighs, then the smooth belly, further on, and my hand laid in the thick hair of her cunt.
Up to that time I had my reason, could reflect, pause, control myself; the woman of any friend of mine was safe from attack from me, but I had had a fancy that there had been once or twice in Laura’s look and manner towards me, a slight gleam of desire; yet the idea of having her never had entered my head, I should have chased it instantly. But from the moment my hand lighted on the crisp thicket, reason left me, voluptuous desire ov
erwhelmed me: I forgot Fred, almost forgot Mabel.
Slowly, inch by inch, I moved myself half up and my arm over Mabel as she lay, fearing it would wake her, and slid my finger down between Laura’s cunt-lips, and gently frigged, listening to Mabel’s snoring, and Laura’s breathing. At length I must have produced a voluptuous sensation, she got restless, and opened her thighs, moved, clasped my hand, and in a peevish sleepy tone said, “Don’t Mabel,—what are you doing?”
“It’s I”; I whispered frigging on. “Oh!” said she pushing my hand away. “Oh! if you wake Mabel.” She kept repulsing my hand saying “don’t,” I replacing it. My hand frigging her clitoris.
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