I took hot gin and water, and got cheered, even began to smile when she said, “You are a gentleman, ain’t you?” “Yes I think so.” “I am sure you are by your manner, but you are poor I suppose.” I told her the entire truth, my heart was so full, I told this strange gay woman all my trouble, all my misery, wanted more gin and water, and having in my pocket a gold pencil-case, a gift of an aunt’s, “Get some more gin,” said I, “take this and pawn it, for I have no money.” She would not. “I am sure, if you say you will bring me the money, that you will. I will pay for more gin.”
So sitting, talking, and drinking gin and water, she sitting opposite to me listening whilst I told my troubles, and my burst of troubles over, relieved by my confidences, I became aware that she was plump, fleshy, good-looking, and had a mild sympathetic eye. Up to that time cunt alone had fascinated me, now I thought of the woman, and a liking for her because she seemed kind stole over me; desire to have her, caress her, spend in her on that account, rather than a desire for her cunt alone, thrilled through me as I looked at her sitting half facing me by the fire; her clothes slightly raised, that the warmth might reach her limbs, one elbow on her knee, the hand supporting her face turned towards me full of interest. And so an hour or more ran away.
“I want you again so, but I have no more money.” “Never mind, you may have me,—shall I undress?” “Oh! do,—do,—how round and plump you are,—but I have no more money.” “Never mind,—give me more when you see me again. Come into the bed,—see the sheets are quite clean,—no one has slept in them, I take the clean ones off every night, and put on others before I go to bed,—stop with me all night.” We both undressed, and jumped into bed together. I was frantic with pleasure as I cuddled up to her plump warm body, and felt her from her neck to her knees; rolled over her, and kissed her, till I settled down between her thighs; and then Mary Davis and I fucked, and laid still, and then fucked again, and so on, till I could do it no longer.
It was three in the morning. “Stop all night,” said she, “I will give you a nice breakfast in the morning.” I would not, had a strong desire to keep up appearances of propriety and happiness at home, if I had not the reality; so with a sigh rose, and dressed, borrowed a shilling of her, and went out into the street. Silent and dirty it was, and raining hard as I walked home to my miserable bed.
At dusk next day with impatience I went off to Mary Davis,’ gave her what I had promised, and money for that evening besides, and when I had had her, we sat down and talked again.
She was a short woman about nineteen years old, plump without fat, but as nicely covered as any woman I ever saw; had a big bum, large thighs, plenty of room between them, and dark hair on her cunt which had strongly developed lips, it was large outside in proportion to her size. She had a soft, kind face, beautiful grey eyes, nearly black hair which draped naturally, and was altogether as nice a little woman as one could have wanted. I have wondered often how she could have settled down in a neighbourhood of coster-mongers, and taken five shillings for her person, when she might as well have been a two-sovereign woman, had she tried elsewhere. I put her up to trying at a future day, but she never would.
Her room was about twelve feet square. A large bed took up one third of it, a table next the only window, two chairs (one easy), little cupboards in the recesses by the fireplace, on which stood china and glasses, a small wash-hand stand, a chest of drawers, with slop-pail, coal-scuttle, and looking-glass completed the furniture. All was scrupulously clean, the bed-linen white.
Having broken my virtuous resolution, I never regained it, and for a week fucked Mary from six in the evening till two the next morning. My week’s amusement cost me about two pounds, but then that modest sum was too much for my pocket, so I left off for a while, and gave Mary a chance of keeping her other friends. They were mostly poor clerks, she told me, and married men better off, who gave her a pound, or at times paid her rent if in arrear. She paid I think but twenty-five shillings a week for her board and lodging together. My too exclusive attentions for a week had prevented her regulars from coming. There was lots of cheaper cunt in the neighbourhood so to send them away with full balls was dangerous.
The house was kept by an old man and woman, he a carpenter almost too old, yet who went to daily work. He used to fetch gin and beer for us. There was no lodger in the house. They were a decent couple, and after a time I used to talk to the old woman, and when Mary once went away ill, she got me a beautifully shaped girl, I had offered her money to get me a girl of about fourteen years of age, a virgin. The streets about there swarmed with girls and boys who played about at night, I could hear their smutty language as they ran after each other yelling, laughing and quarrelling. She tried, but never could; she was not a woman who undertook that sort of thing, but the money tempted her. “There are lots of girls about,” said she, “their mothers don’t care what they do, but you want a virgin,—Lor! where’s she to be found?—when they’s about thirteen or fourteen years old they won’t be kept in, they is about the dark streets at night, and Lor! if you heard what I have in the streets where the costers’ barrows is, of a night!” And so the old woman intimated that all the young girls of that select neighbourhood, were got into by the coster boys, and that a virginity was a rarety at fourteen years old. I afterwards groped several young girls in those dark streets, and there was certainly no obstacle to my fingers searching their cunts.
“I thinks I knows a steady little gal, whose mother’s just died, her father ain’t no good, and you and Mary must ask her in; I can’t have nothin’ to do with it except getting her here.” One day afterwards she told me she had asked the girl to tea, and that she was as curious as could be to know all about it (meaning fucking). “She knows as much as we do,” said the old woman with a chuckle. “Was far as talking goes and she would like to know as much as them as does it as well, but she is timid; there is three of them, she is the eldest, the father leaves her in charge, you shall see her.” Mary Davis had gone home ill. The girl was brought in, I sent out for gin, a nice little girl she was, and she drank some of it. The old woman then left with a wink. The girl took my kisses very well, never said a word, so getting on by degrees I talked to her about naked people, and getting children, felt her ankles and legs, then told her I would give her a shilling if she would feel my cock. She did not say a word, but stood still, my arm round her waist, whilst I pulled out my stiff prick. Then she bent forward curiously, whilst I put her little hand round it, and guiding it, pulled the foreskin down from the tip. Then I put my hand up her clothes, and felt her thighs and bum; but on bringing my hand to the cunt, she broke away in tears saying, “Oh! no sir,—I would rather not sir,—I’m much obliged to you sir for showing it me, and the shilling; but I would rather not sir,—oh! let me go, let me go,—Mrs. Smith,—Mrs. Smith.” The old woman was listening, and came in instantly. “Oh! what are you doing to her?” said she in a whining tone, “what is the matter my dear?—don’t cry,—oh! you should not sir,”—and winking at me, away she went with the girl; then came back, said the girl was scared, and she feared it was no go. “But if you heared her talk, you would think she would let any man do anything with her.”
Half-an-hour afterwards the girl had composed herself, and came back. I had more gin, the old woman again left us, the girl had another shilling, and again she felt me. I began talking to her about the parsley-bed out of which children come, and generally on the subject of generation and its working tools. “Now dear don’t be alarmed (she seemed as timid as a hare), you know what a cunt is?” “Yes,” said she, “it’s a nasty word,—poor mother told father he was a beast cause he said it when drunk.” “Well my dear, something comes out of a man if he puts this up a cunt, and that gets children,—lay hold of my prick, and you will see,”—and guiding her little hand I frigged myself with it. But she cried out when I attempted to feel her cunt, and I never had her. The old woman said she was frightened to bring her again, that
she and Mary Davis might manage it together, and when Davis came back I wished her to try, but she refused to have anything to do with it. The lech passed away, for it was but a whim. At that time I liked large well-haired cunts.
I am anticipating, for this took place nearly two years after I first had Mary Davis. That girl got fond of me, and I liked her. I got a little better off, and used to give her more money; but she always took what I gave her contentedly. The only thing I can remember out of the common course of lecherous events in such acquaintances, is that I took one for spending over her, used to fuck up to spending-point, then pull out my prick, and frigging it, emit my semen on to her belly, breasts, or thighs; then I began fucking again, almost directly I had discharged and looking at my spunk lying on her flesh. When my pleasure came on again, I would put her hand on to my spunk; and directly her fingers touched it, it fetched me, and she as well, although she always said it was a dirty trick. But I only did this a few times. I began also to use French letters, for reasons she advised me to do so.
The neighbouring streets were full of poor gay women. She heard that I had been seen going into a house in the neighbourhood, and cried about it. Her health got bad, her womb began to fall, and the doctor said she was not strong enough for a gay life. She told me she was the daughter of an under game-keeper, that a young tradesman kept company with her, she liked him, and he said he meant to marry her. Bringing her home one evening when she had got out on the sly, they felt each other’s privates on the road. Very soon after she and one of her sisters were allowed to go to some village-dance. Her sister walked off with her sweetheart; Mary’s young man took her to some cottage, did it to her twice, and then walked home with her. She did not know whose fault it was; his or hers, for from the night they had felt each other, she thought of nothing else till she had his prick up her. Her father found it out, she ran away to London, became gay, and had never lived in any other house but the one I visited her in. “Whenever I saw him after he had felt me” (her lover) she would say, “I felt in a flurry all over, and could think of nothing else, I longed to feel his hand on my thing again,—she soon did.”
She went home ill, came back, her womb got worse, she went to a hospital, got thin and fretted, again went home, and I never heard more of her. I had great pleasure in her society; it was my greatest solace to tell her all my misery, for she was a complacent kind creature. It was wonderful to see how clean everything was in that little square room, yet with the exception of the fireplace, she cleaned everything herself. At about two o’clock in the day she was dressed, and standing at the door, to catch passersby. She never spoke to them unless they spoke to her. She was to me at first a novel experience but I soon had plenty of experience of the poor class of women in adjacent streets.
I found it not wise to go into the streets well dressed, so put on old things, drew my hat over my eyes, assumed a slouching gait, and walked along slowly, talking to the women till I found one I liked. Their salutation usually was, “Come here dear,—come and see what I have got to show you.” “What?” “Such a nice cunt,—such a lot of hair.” “Such a fat arse,” would say another. “How much will you let me for?” “What you like,—come in.” “I have not much money,—let me look at your cunt for a shilling.” “Come in then.” Another would say, “Make it two, and I’ll strip.” Many a cunt I have seen for a shilling. If I did not like it, I went further on, or into the next street.
The street-doors were usually open, the women when dressed lolling just inside them, with head out, but dropping back if they saw a likely man, and addressing him as he passed in loud or low tones, according to their cheek. If a woman I had had and expected to see was not visible, my way was to step inside the passage, and listen at the door; if through the keyhole I saw a light, or heard voices, there was business on. If in the evening the outside shutters of the room were closed, I knew the woman was engaged for a long time, perhaps her own man, a cab-man, a costermonger, or some man of similar class was with her, if late. The women there though about the same price, or cheaper, had quite different manners from the Waterlow road ones. There were rarely more than one woman in a house, and always on the ground floor, the landlord or lady living in the back room, or upstairs. The rooms were mostly let to working people, who seemed quiet enough.
Lots of children were about, who played in the streets at day, but disappeared if quite young towards dusk. If a man stopped and talked to a gay woman at the door, the children of the house usually went in, always did if more than about ten years old. They drew back as if they knew that a bargain for fucking was to be struck, and I believe knew all about it. They were mostly girls who sleeping in the same room with their parents, I dare say had seen the game of mother and father played often enough. The bigger girls frisked about the streets of an evening with boys of the same age, or not much older.
If a woman could get you to enter the passage, she almost pulled you into her room. “Come in,—don’t stand there,—come out of the way of the lodgers,—I’ll tell you if you come in,—well make it half-a-crown,—I’ve got such a nice cunt,—such a fat arse,—feel my bubbies,—look here,—come in, and let me feel your prick.”
This was all said rapidly, and according to the inducements the woman had to offer. It generally ended in my going in, and the bargain was completed inside. “I’ll frig you,—do anything you like,—look here (showing rapidly her breasts, and covering them up again),—here is a big pair of legs (pulling her clothes up),—yes you may fuck me how you like,—oh I yes I want to piss bad.” I have heard this hundreds of times. Once inside I never came out without paying something. The women always said or did just enough to wet my appetite for knowing or seeing a little more, so I paid, and often enough was disappointed, and left; but saw a lot.
In these streets about seven in number, during a period of two or three years, I had many women, even whilst I visited Mary Davis. I dare say fifty women I fucked, and felt as many more before I ceased going to the neighbourhood. Two or three of the adventures there are alone worth writing. At one house I was robbed of a pin whilst actually fucking the woman.
A tall broad-built woman of about thirty, was loll-at a door one night. I do not recollect having seen her before, for I knew many women by sight, even though I had not had them. She looked like a coster’s wife. I should have passed on, but for the lewd way in which her eyes met mine. I stopped, she instantly looked rapidly up and down the street, went back inside the doorway saying very loudly, “You want my lodger, but she has left here,” but as she said this, she stepped inside the front room, and beckoned me in both with hand and head, her eyes wide open, and looking anxious. Slowly I followed in. She was so big that I thought I should like a feel, and if I liked that would pay more, and have more. “I’ll give you a shilling to feel your cunt.” “Very well,” said she standing still, and not attempting to lift her clothes slightly as most of the women used to do. I got my hand on her thighs, she pushed it away, retreated towards the bed and sat on it. I took out a shilling, and as usual put it on the mantel-piece. “There is the money,—let me now.” She no longer resisted, I felt her, and she opened her legs to facilitate my groping. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Is your cock standing?” said she in a whisper. “Yes feel it,” said I unbuttoning. She grabbed at it as if she meant to pull it off.
Her manners struck me as uncommon, and I began to feel uncomfortable; but under the squeezing of my cock, and the feeling of her cunt the usual desire to leave one’s sperm up her came over me. “Let me fuck you,—I’ll give you two shillings more.” Without reply she fell back on the bed, I began to throw up her clothes. “Oh! no I can’t let you do that.” I had when with strange women just then been using French letters, and the fear of infection came over me when she would not submit herself to my inspection. “You have got something the matter with you, and I shan’t, I said.
“Nothing of the sort,” said she angrily, “I’m not gay,—I’m the
landlady,—I am married, and have three children,—they are abed in the next room,—you may see them if you like. My lodger’s gone,—you’ve been here afore to see her,—I’ve seen you afore,—but I’m not gay, and can’t have anything the matter with me,—it’s impossible.” All this nearly in a whisper. Astonished I laughed. “Don’t make a noise,” said she, “I don’t want the lodgers to know I am in this room, they know it’s empty,—come on,” and grasping my prick again, she surrendering herself more freely to my investigations.
“Where is your husband?” “Away on a job in the country; I haven’t seen him for three months, and have not been touched for that time, so help me God; you may do it without fear,—there then look, if you must,” said she, letting me throw up her clothes, and look well at her cunt, which I opened. “I’m a quiet woman.” Then she turned round, twisting herself so that she could get hold of my cock as I stood pulling her about. “Come on my dear.” The next minute I was spending up her.
“Go on, you were so quick,—go on,” said she in spasmodic utterances, jerking her bum, clutching me to her, and using the same endearments as any other woman,—women are all the same, from the princess to the peasant. I had spent quickly, but shoved on as well as I could, and in a second or two with a sigh, her cunt relaxed.
I moved out of her quickly, for fear of the ladies’ fever haunted me a little. She lay with her clothes up to her navel, till I had washed myself. “There is no towel or soap,” I said. Then she moved. “I’ll get you some,—but don’t afear me,—hush!—don’t make a noise,—wait five minutes for me, lock the door, and put out the light.” I stood aghast at this request; it was in a low neighbourhood, costermongers, tramps, and even a nest of thieves I had heard was not far off. “What the devil does she mean?—what game is up?” came across my mind. “I won’t put out the light,” I said. “Well hide it in the cupboard, lock the door, and if anyone knocks don’t answer,—perhaps my late lodger’s friends may come, not knowing she has gone,—I don’t want anyone to know anyone is in the room.” This was all said in a whisper; she went out, shut the door gently, and walked to the back of the house, leaving her three shillings. I heard her footsteps, and faintly afterwards the sounds of talking in the back room,—the partitions in the poor houses were thin.
Erotic Classics II Page 109
