Off they had gone. She and her husband were the exhibition-managers, speculators, and chief actors.
Hannah made a mouth when I asked what sort of a man Mavis was. She did not think much of him,—why did he not work—he had a trade?—no, because he was no longer able to get on as an actor, he preferred to let Sarah get the living for the whole of them. “Ah! you’ll see her back, mark my words,—they won’t succeed,—and then what will take place? —you’ll see,—is she poor thing to work and do everything, that he may lay a bed, dress as a gentleman, and do nothing but take her out for a walk on a Sunday; she is as proud of his taking her out for a walk on a Sunday as if he kept her a carriage.” After much reflection I came to the conclusion that Sarah had only just turned harlot about the time I had first met her that she did it to keep her man and her family, and he got accustomed to his woman getting his living for him.
I kept on calling at J—s Street, always expecting to hear of Sarah. Hannah was glad to see me, for now I cast up her accounts weekly. I got acquainted with two or three ladies there who came at intervals to meet their friends. They were very nice women, none were ever to be seen in the streets, they had either their own acquaintances whom they met at J—s Street, or Hannah had introduced them to gentlemen there. They were not a bit like whores in dress, appearance or manner, and my acquaintance with them opened my mind to the fact, that there is a large amount of occult fucking going on with needy, middle-class women, whose mode of living and dressing, is a mystery to their friends, and who mingle with their own class of society without its being suspected; that their cunts are ever wetted by sperm which lawfully may not be put there.
I began to stand wine when I met them, and was introduced as a friend of Miss Mavis who had gone abroad. I was I found well known by name and a character for kindness, and I expect also for being a fool. All the women were shy at first, Hannah’s sister (the servant) I overheard telling Hannah that the ladies did not like my being in the parlour. Hannah at times would ask me to leave, as a lady wanted to come into the parlour and wait there, and so on. But gradually Hannah would say, “Who is it?—oh! she knows him,”—or “Oh! she won’t mind,—let her come in.” So by degrees I became intimate with these privately gay ladies, and several of them on more than one occasion joined their sweet bodies to mine in the game of under and over.
I had never had a woman in the house since Sarah had gone; firstly because I did not then pay more for the girls than I did for the room alone at J—s Street, and because, I feared if Sarah came back Hannah would tell her,—as if it would have mattered to Sarah in any way excepting that another woman would get the money she might have had. Still I had that stupid idea about the matter, and although I had longed for one or two of the other ladies, and although they had looked languishingly at me. I never had then proposed a private interview upstairs.
One day Hannah said she had heard from Sarah who had asked after me. “They are (Sarah and the troupe) getting on well,” said Hannah, “if she says so I suppose they are,—but we shall see.” Suddenly, “Have you had another woman since she left?” The question startled me. “No.” “Oh! I don’t believe it,—if you haven’t you’re a nasty man.” Then I confessed, and told her what I had done. “Why don’t you have Mrs. Fisher?” said she. “I’m poor, and can’t,—I’m not going to do what I did with Sarah.” “Lord she won’t mind,—she’d like you I know,—but don’t say I said so,—she’s got a lovely leg,—she’s a fine woman,—nearly as fine made as Sarah Mavis, and she is taller,—she never gets it done at home.” Hannah was unusually muddled with liquor that day, and let out; her sister was not there to check her with, “Now then Hannah you’d better shut up,”—and Hannah described Mrs. Fisher’s hidden charms till my cock stood.
I would pass hours sketching from recollection Sarah Mavis’ limbs and form, her bum and cunt being the most favorite subjects; then so randy that I did not know what to do with myself, I would rush out into the streets to prevent my frigging myself,—and erotic night-dreams were frequent.
“Why don’t you see Mrs. X—i,” said Hannah to me, “she likes you, and would come up any day if I wrote to her (I had supped two or three times with that lady),—I would not fret about Sarah, although she is a fine woman,—you let her see you have another woman, and she will come round if she comes back.” But I did not for a time.
One afternoon however being in the parlour, Mrs. X—i was there, a splendid woman about twenty-six years old. Also there was a young woman who had two children by a man with whom she was about to go abroad, and she was a lovely woman. The two ladies had just had a two o’clock dinner with Hannah, I had just come from my Club after luncheon, and sent for champagne. All our talk got frisky,—all knew Sarah, my love. If I could get anyone to talk with me about her, I was delighted, and began at it. Said the Mistress, “Well she is a splendid-formed woman certainly,—splendid, but there are lots of others,—I’ve got a good leg to my knee, so has Mrs. X—i, and Mrs.———,” (meaning the other whose name I forget).
“Show us your leg,” said one. “There,” said Hannah pulling up her clothes, “now show yours.” They all showed their limbs, one after another. “You might fancy you had Sarah’s legs round your thighs, if you had Mrs. X—i’s there,” said Hannah. I was nigh bursting for a fuck. Mrs. X—i pulled her clothes up higher, and stood up to show the leg better; the other ladies did the same. I felt my pleasure coming, and objecting to wet my shirt, began to unbutton. “Oh I can’t bear it,” I cried, “oh! my God I’m coming,”—and the instant my prick was free from my trousers I spent copiously, the three women their petticoats still up nearly to their cunts, looking and laughing. I had not frigged, it was fullness, and the voluptuous delight at seeing the limbs of the three fine women which fetched me. “There is lots of stuff in him,” said one. Ashamed of myself I begged their pardons, and sent for more wine. “He had better have given one of you ladies that good spunk,” said the Mistress. I overcame my bashfulness, they laughed about what Sarah Mavis had missed, one professed to feel annoyed at my behaviour. “Oh! you are damned modest,” said Hannah.
Mrs. X—i soon afterwards went upstairs into the bed room to a gentleman she had come to meet. The Mistress said she should lay down,—she always did after her dinner, and slept for two hours,—she was fuddled, and indeed always was. The mother of the two children and I were alone; from the instant I had spent she had never taken her eyes off me,—never. I recollect the look of her dark eyes and their expression quite well. Hannah snored almost directly. “Let us have a kiss,” said the lady to me, “I know you are fond of a well-formed woman,”—and she pulled up her clothes a little. She was sitting on the sofa, my prick rose, I bolted the door, and we fucked whilst the Mistress kept snoring.
Mrs. X—i came down. “What you here still?—what have you been doing?” The mother replied, “He has been smoking, and talking about his dear Sarah.” The woman was actually sitting at that very moment with a flood of my sperm up her cunt, for she had neither wiped, nor washed, nor pissed since I had fucked her. Then they talked about X—i’s friend who was a clergyman. X—i was the wife of a man who lived with her, but never had her (so she said); she hated him, he had clapped her once.
The mother went out of the room, and came back, Hannah awoke, we had tea, I paid, it was my rule then to pay for everything for the ladies whenever I was in the bawdy house parlour. I rose to go, shaking hands with the two ladies. The one whom I had embraced put a bit of paper privately into my hand. Outside the house I read it. “Wait outside,” it said. I had been delighted with her pleasure, and did so. She came out, we walked quickly off. “You go to the top of the next street,” said she, “and I’ll meet you,”—and she went another way, and met me at the top. “I did that in case X—i came out,” said she, “let us go and have dinner together.” “I have not enough money,” said I. “Never mind, I have.” We went to the Café de P—v—e, and dined; I fucked her agai
n and again on a sofa. She was a charming woman. As we sat on a little sofa dallying after dinner, she said she had not had it for a month, her friend had gone to Germany, where they were going to live, to make arrangements, he would return in a few days; then he, she, and the children were going to Germany with him. “I liked you,” said she, “but when I saw what you did before us this afternoon, I could scarcely stop myself, I wanted it so badly,—I dare say I’m in the family way,—oh! don’t look,—it’s full,—it’s dirty,—you shan’t.” The next instant I was up her again; afterwards she washed, and I saw her cunt. I paid for the dinner partly, she the rest,—I had not a sixpence left. “I’m sorry,” I said to her, “that I have no more money.” “I did not come here for money,” said she. “Let me leave you half a dozen pair of gloves at No. 11.” “No, I’ve lots of gloves.” “Then give me a kiss.” She stood putting her tongue in my mouth for a minute, then giving me a hearty kiss off she went. I never saw her, nor had her again. Hannah told me she was in Germany, and very happy there.
Chapter XV
I began to meet a Mrs. Fisher at the house very frequently; why she was more frequently there I did not know, and knew it was but of little use asking questions why.
I rather liked this lady. She came usually at one o’clock, and had dinner with Hannah. At three o’clock she went upstairs, was there about two hours, then came down and went away. At times she waited, had tea, and sometimes early supper; this was when she was expecting someone who did not come. I was told confidentially by Hannah it was a rich middle-aged clergyman. The ladies name was Mrs. Louisa Fisher,—her Christian name I have written truly, the surname is not. I do this lest she be alive still, and should read somehow this result of my doings with her at J—s Street; she can’t mistake if she reads these pages who it was.
After what Hannah had told me I could not help taking a great deal of notice of this lady, and began to lust for her, and of course took to talking to her about Sarah. She was nothing loth, and asked me curious, and at last down right indecent questions about her, but not in smutty language. Hannah when there used to laugh at the questions and my replies; they made my cock stand, which perhaps was what Louisa intended, or it may only have been curiosity without any hidden intention.
I imagine that the erotic incident in the parlour had been told to a good many gay ladies; it certainly had to Louisa Fisher, for one night after that I had been to enquire if Hannah had heard again from Sarah, and Hannah had mentioned Louisa, the following occurred. I had dined early, it was about half-past six, Louisa Fisher was there. “Stand us a glass of wine,” said she. “Do,” said Hannah. “Do,” said another lady. “Have you had dinner Mrs. Fisher?” said I. “No, my friend’s not been,—I’m hungry, and Hannah is just going to cook me a chop.” I myself fetched a bottle of sherry, the chop came, Louisa ate it, and drank sherry; then I sent for brandy, we drank it mixed with water, and Hannah took some neat. I had begun about Sarah as I always did. “Well she was a beautiful model,” said Hannah, “but Mrs. X—i’s leg was better to my mind.” “Look how he’s blushing,” said Louisa. “Why should I blush?” They both laughed. “Oh! oh! oh! don’t I know what you did when you saw her legs.” I was then that odd mixture of bawdiness and modesty, that I was just as likely to be bold as to be shame-faced, when a woman spoke to me about anything carnal; and now was confused and half-ashamed. “Lord how he’s blushing,” said Hannah, and she left the room to look after business, she usually put her head out when the street-door opened, if a servant was not in the way on the ground-floor.
Louisa laughed. “I know all ’bout it,” said she, “she was a fine woman.” After I had got over the stupid bashfulness which I had for the moment, I went (as usual with me) to the extreme of bawdy boldness. “Yes,” said I laughing, “I wish it had been spilt in her cunt, instead of on the carpet.” “Oh! for shame,” said Louisa, “well it was waste, was it not,—it might have made two people happy,—did you really spend without frigging it?” “Yes I did.”
I got close to Louisa on the sofa to speak with her about the event, to hear from her lips what had been told her. She said not a word, but my face was close to hers, we looked into each other’s eyes for a minute, lust was on both. I put my arm round her, pulled her towards me, and kissed her. She returned it, our lips were glued together. “You’ve got a fine leg Hannah says.” “Does she?” “Yes,—let me see it.” “No.” “Yes.” “You only care about Sarah.” I made no reply, but went on kissing lecherously, put one hand down, and going on kissing pulled her clothes up to her knees. She stopped me there. “Oh! how round, how nice, how lovely your leg is.” “Now be quiet, Hannah will be in.” I ceased looking, but my hand slipped higher up, my fingers were inside the satiny wet lips, and my mouth was glued to hers, as Hannah came back.
We resumed a decent posture. Hannah laughed, “Lord why don’t you two go upstairs?” said she, “you want each other,—why don’t you go?—the first-floor front’s empty.” “Come,” said I to Louisa pulling her. She rose instantly. Hannah was a really good soul, she liked to make people happy, and to set them fucking; I have seen it in a dozen instances.
Without another word we went upstairs, I threw her on the bedside, pulled up her clothes, and opened a magnificent pair of thighs. “Let’s go to bed,” said she. “Very well.” We both undressed like lightning without a word passing, and stood, she in chemise, I in shirt in a trice. “Let’s get in naked.” Without reply she drew off her chemise as I pulled off my shirt, and the next minute naked in each other’s arms we were fucking in a warm bed, not a word of conversation passing till we had spent, those moments are so soul-absorbing in their lasciviousness.
“Oh! how quick we’ve been,—lay still.” With mutual consent we kept together in fleshy conjunction, I nestled my balls up her, she tightened her cunt to stimulate my shrinking organ. But little stimulus was needed, our spend had only made us want it again, we had scarcely rested ere we recommenced fucking, and again we spent before my prick had uncunted. How lovely, how exquisite is the reminiscence! What equals the pleasure of a man and woman pleased with each other, thrilling with lust, when prick and cunt are joined, and they spend in each other’s arms!
Still she would not let me out of her, crossing her limbs over my thighs, drawing me closer to her by her hands, grasping my arse-cheeks, pulling the cheeks almost open, squeezing her cunt up to me, she kept me up her, kissing me, shoving her tongue towards mine, and saying I was a lovely poke, the first bawdy words that dropped from her, I rubbing my belly up against hers till my balls almost lay between her fat cunt-lips, swabbing up the oozings of the sperm which ran out from her. And so we lay, kissing, tongue-sucking, and talking the stinging words of love and lust.
Then as repose became a pleasure, and nature severed us. “Oh! my God how wet you have made me,” she said, “it’s all on the sheet.” “Let me feel.” I felt on my side, she turned on hers towards me, and threw one leg over my haunch, I placed my hand on her cunt, and felt the sperm, wetting my hand, whilst she grasped my slippery prick. “Feel how wet your prick is,” I put my hand there, and every hair on my prick was plastered against my belly; then hand on cunt, and hand on prick we both dozed off.
When I awakened we were still face to face, Louisa asleep with a hand under my balls. I pulled down the clothes to look at her naked body: the gas was burning brightly, I saw splendid breasts; down went my hand to her cunt, I groped it, she awoke, and without a word turned on to her back, and I on to her belly. Whilst couched easily on to that broad belly, and lying between her ample breasts, and steadied by her large thighs, my prick lying down against her gap, kissing and sucking each other’s mouths, she glided her hand down, and introduced my pendulous doodle to her randy cunt, and again we fucked. We were mad for it, neither of us uttered a word, till she cried out, “Oh! I’m coming,—my God,—ah!” And then we spent, and went fast asleep again, exhausted with the pleasure.
We were awakened
by a knock. “Who’s there?” “Hannah.” “What do you want?” “Are you going to stop all night?” “No,” said I jumping out of bed, “what o’clock is it?” “It’s half-past twelve.” “Come to bed,” said Louisa. In I jumped. “Oh! I’m so hungry,” said she, “how I should like some oysters.” “So should I,—get up, and we’ll go and have some before the shop closes.” “No, stop here, Hannah will get them.” I agreed, ordered them, and we went on twiddling each other’s privates, I recollect the feel of hers at this very moment,—it was like a paste-pot.
I had never seen her person yet. The throwing her on to the bed, and lifting her clothes, her stripping, and jumping into bed had been so rapid, and so randy had both of us been, so anxious to copulate, that I had had no time to look, to contemplate, to enjoy her with my eyesight. Now off went the bed clothes. “Let’s look at your cunt.” “I won’t till I’ve washed.” “No now.” I pulled one thigh. “No you dirty dog,—it’s not nice.” She jumped out of bed, and washed her quim, I my prick, we pissed, and then she threw herself on the bed, and delivered her body up to me. When I had had a quarter of an hour’s investigation, she amused herself with looking and pulling my prick about, waiting for our supper.
She was a very fine tall woman, stout and well-built. She said she was twenty-four, but I believe she was thirty. She looked less stout with her clothes on than when she was undressed, for I was much surprised to see how very big she was when naked. She had a very big arm, her thighs and legs were very big as well. Hannah was right about it, the entire legs were grand, but had not the exquisite curves of Sarah Mavis.’ Her bum was proportionate to her thighs, her waist was not nearly small enough, her breasts were very large, and beautifully placed, and beautifully solid; her face was large and common-place, she had grey eyes, and lightest auburn hair,—immense in quantity, which was pleasing, though not handsome; it was not a face which in the streets would have attracted me. Her teeth were good.
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