It is a positive fact, that about two hours afterwards I had a violent randy throbbing in my prick, and found out later on that just at that very time she had put that garter on.
(And now for the complete understanding of what follows, it must be stated that the house was in plan nearly like that which I inhabited when I had my beautiful servant Mary. Kitchens in the basement, two parlours with folding doors between them, nearly always open; and rooms back and front over the parlours; and that my absent friend did with those rooms whilst absent at the seaside, what was not unusual with people of their class in those days, lock most of them up, leaving only sufficient for the servant, or caretaker, to inhabit.)
Chapter XVIII
I waited a few days to ensure her poorliness being over. I had not left her Fanny Hill, but why I cannot tell, for I knew how bawdy books excited a woman. The night before my next attack, I wrapped up the book, directed it to her, gave a boy sixpence to deliver it, hid myself by a lilac which was in the front-garden close to the road, and saw the boy give it to her, and go off quickly as I had told him. It was just dark, and too dark inside the passage of the house to see; for Jenny stepped outside the house so as to get light, and stripped off the envelope. I saw also that she opened the book, closed it, looked rapidly on both sides, then stepped inside, and closed the door. I expect that her cunt got hot enough that night. I saw her sister who slept with her nightly, going through the front-garden soon afterwards, and Jenny open the door for her. I had then moved off to a safe distance, the other side of the road.
Jenny was fond of finery, and I had heard the old lady of the house declaiming about it. Her pleasure at the showy neckerchief and garters was great, so I bought a pretty broach, and filling my purse with sovereigns determined to have her at any cost, for my letch for her had got violent. The next day I had a good luncheon, went to the house just after her dinnertime, and took with me a bottle of sherry. I recollect the morning well. It was a sultry day, reeking with moisture; it had been thundering, the clouds were dark and threatening, the air charged with electricity. Such a day makes all creation randy, and you may see every monkey at the Zoological Gardens frigging or fucking. I was resolute with lustful heat, the girl was I expected under the same influence, and taking her as I did after a lazy meal, everything was propitious to me. “How shall I get in?—if I knock she may not open; and if she sees me go up the front-garden she won’t open.” But I had to try, so walked up to the door, and gave one single loud tradesman’s knock.
There was a little porch and a shelter over the street-door. Standing flat up against the door, so that I might be hidden from her sight if peeping, I heard an upper window open. She looked out, but where I was she could not see me. There was delay, so again I knocked, and soon the door began to open, I pushed it and stepped in. The front-shutters on the ground-floor to my wonder were closed.
“Hoh! sir—you,” said Jenny amazed, “what do you want?” I pushed the door to, and caught hold of her. “I’ve come to have a chat and a kiss.” She struggled, but I got her tight, and kissed as a randy man then kisses a woman, it is a magnetizing thing. “Oh! there it is again,” she cried as a loud thunder-clap was heard; “oh! let me go,—oh! it do frighten me so.”
“Where are you going?” “Oh I into the parlour,—I’ve closed the shutters.” The girl was in a panic, and did not know what she said. The parlour-door was open, the room nearly dark, which suited me. She went just in, and then turned round to go out, but I pulled her to the sofa. A flash of lightning showed even in the darkened room, the girl cowered and hid her face with her hands. I took her round the waist. “Shut your eyes, and lean your head against me.” Mechanically she did, she was utterly unnerved. I felt down with my right hand the form of her thighs and haunches through her clothes. My prick began to stand, pulling it out, and taking her near hand I put it round my prick just as the thunder roared. She kept her hand unconsciously on it for a time, then with a start took it away and jumped up. “Oh! it’s wicked,” said she, “when God Almighty is so angry,”—and just as she got to the door a terrific flash made her turn round again. I caught her, and sitting down on a chair pulled her on to my knee; she hid at once her face on my shoulder in terror.
Coaxing and soothing, and exciting her, in her fear she listened at times twitching and oh-ing. I was sorry I had touched her cunt the other day I said. “Oh! now don’t.” “Feel my prick again,—do dear.” “Let me go,—you’ve no business here.” Another flash came, I put my hand up her clothes, the tip of my fingers just touched her quim. She struggled and got away, and in doing so upset the chair which fell down and broke. “Oh! now what will my Missus say!” said she. Then a screech, and she got to the other side of the table.
This went on a little longer, a gleam of sunshine came through the shutters. Then she opened one shutter, and said if I did not go she would open the window and call out. The light showed my pego, stiff, red-tipped and ready. “Look what your feeling has done for this Jenny,” said I shaking my tooleywag at her.
But her resoluteness daunted me, so I promised not to do so again. “Here is some sherry that I was taking home to taste,—let’s have a glass,—it will do both of us good after this thunder,—you look white, and as if you wanted a glass.” I had got out of her on a previous day that she liked sherry. “I’ll go and get you a glass,” said she. “No you shan’t,—you will lock the door,” said I,—I know that was in her mind. No she would not. “We will go together then.”
We did, and returning to the parlour under my most solemn promise of good behaviour, down she sat, and we began drinking sherry. One glass,—two, then another she swallowed. “No I dare not, it will get into my head,—no more.” “Nonsense,—after your fright it will do you good.” “Well half a glass.” “Isn’t it nice Jenny?” “It is.” “Does not your sweetheart give it you?” “At Christmas, but only one glass.” The sherry began to work. “Only another half-glass,”—and I poured it out nearly full. Soon after I got up after filling my own, and standing before her again filled up hers which she had sipped without her seeing me. “Finish your glass dear.” “No I can’t,—it’s making me so hot.” “Just another half-glass.” “I won’t.” But she began to chatter and told me again all about her young man, of their intending to open a grocer’s shop when they had two hundred pounds; that he had saved a certain sum, and when he had a little more his father was to put fifty pounds to it. She also had put money in the savings bank. I got closer to her, and asked for a kiss. “Well I’ll kiss you if you promise not to be rude again.” A kiss and a promise. She was one of the simplest and most open girls I have ever met with, and once a half-feeling of remorse came over me about my intentions, whilst she was talking on quite innocently about her future; but my randy prick soon stopped that.
“What nonsense dear, your young man won’t know that I have felt your thighs, and you my thing, nor anyone else what we do,—I have thought of nothing else since I touched you,—kiss;—now let me do it again,—just feel it,—only where my hand’s been before,—I swear I won’t put my hand up higher, just above your garters,—have you got those garters on?” “No.” “Oh! you have.” “Well I have.” “Let me just see.” “I shan’t.” “I’ll give you a sovereign to let me.” “Shan’t.” I pulled out the sovereign, put it on the table and spite of her resistance pulled up her clothes just high enough to see one garter; then clutching her round the waist I pushed my hands up, and touched a well-developed clitoris. She struggled, but I kept my hand there, kissed her rapturously, and frigged her; her cap fell off in her struggle. “Oh I—can’t—bear—it—now—sir;—I don’t—oh!—like it,—oh!” Then with a violent effort she got my hand away, but I held her fast to me.
“What a lovely smell your cunt has,” said I putting the fingers just withdrawn from her thighs up to my nose. I had always noticed that nothing helps to make a woman more randy than that action; it seems to overwhelm them with modest confus
ion; I have always done that instinctively to a woman whom I was trying.
“Oh! what a man,—oh! let me pick up my cap.” Just then I noticed her hair was short, and remarked it. She was annoyed, her vanity hurt, turned her thoughts entirely. “Yes,” she said, “I had a fever two years ago,—but it’s growing again.” “Well it has grown enough on your cunt dear,—did it fall off there?” “Oh! what a man!—oh! now what a shame!” My hand was on her thighs again, and I managed another minute’s frig, and kept her close to me.
The heat had become excessive. What with struggling, and the excitement, sweat was on both our faces. Her thighs by her crack were as wet as if she had pissed them, her backside began to wriggle with pleasure, which I knew I was giving her; but again with a violent effort she freed herself from me, and as I put my hand to my nose she violently pulled it away. The sherry was upsetting her wisdom.
“There is the sovereign,” said I as she stood looking at me, “that will help you.” “Don’t want it.” Seeing where her pocket-hole was I pushed it into it. “Oh! what a lucky sovereign, to lay so close to your cunt Jenny,”—and pushing my hand into her pocket I touched the bottom of her belly through the linen. Again a struggle, a repulse, then she put her hand into her pocket. “You’re feeling your cunt Jenny,” said I. “O—oh!” said she taking it out quickly, “I was feeling for the money,—I won’t have it.”
Then I kissed her till the sweat ran off my face on to hers. “Oh! my goodness,” said she as it grew darker, “it’s going to thunder again.” “Have another glass.” “No it’s gone into my head already.” But she took a gulp of mine. “Let’s fuck you Jenny dear.” “What?” “Fuck.” “Shan’t.” “Oh! you know what I mean.” “No I don’t, but it’s something bad if it’s from you.” I pulled out my prick, and tried to push her on the sofa. She got away, and then with my prick out I chased her round the table. “Leave off,” said she, “a joke’s a joke, but this is going too far.” She was getting lewd, and was staring at my prick which showed above the table as I chased her. Quick as me she managed to keep just on the side of it opposite to me.
“I’ll swear I won’t touch you again if you will sit down.” “I won’t trust you,—you’ve been swearing all the afternoon.” “So help me God I will,” said I, and meant it. “Well then not when you are like that.” I pushed my prick inside my trousers, and then she sat down. What a long time this takes to tell, what repetition! but there are not many incidents I recollect more clearly.
Then I took out ten sovereigns, all bright, new ones, laid them on the table, and then the broach. “Do you like that Jenny?” “Yes.” “It is for you if you will let me, and those ten sovereigns also.” “You are a bad man,” said the girl, “and would make me forget myself and be ruined, and without caring a bit,”—and she began rocking her head about, and rolling her body as she sat beside me, and looking at the money. “Who will know?—you won’t tell your young man,—I shan’t tell my wife,—let me.” “I shan’t,—never,—never,—never,—never, if it was fifty pounds,” said she almost furiously. “He won’t find it out.” “Yes he would.” “Nonsense,—half the servants do it, yet marry,”—and then I told her of some I had who had married. “No,—no,—no,” she kept repeating, almost bawling it out, as I told of Mary So-and-so who married a butler, and Sarah So-and-so who married my greengrocer, though I’d fucked them over and over again. “No,—no,” looking at the money; then suddenly she took up the broach, and laid it down again.
Before running round the table after her, I had thrown off my coat and waistcoat. “It’s so hot, I’ve a good mind to take off my trousers,” I had said; but I had another motive. She seemed weaker, and was so, for gradually she had got inflamed and lewd by heat, the electrical condition of the atmosphere, the titillation of my finger on her seat of pleasure, and the sight of my stiff penis. She had I expect, got to that weak, yielding, voluptuous condition of mind and body, when a woman knows she is wrong, yet cannot make up her mind to resist. Just then it came into my mind to tickle her; and then followed a scene which is one of the most amusing in my reminiscences.
She shrieked, and wriggled down on to the floor. I tried to mount her there. She kicked, fought, so that though once my prick touched her cunt-wig, I could not keep on the saddle. She forgot all propriety in her fuddled excitement, and whilst screeching from my tickling, repeated incoherently bawdy words as I uttered them. “Let me fuck you.” “You shan’t fuck me.” “Let’s put it just to your cunt.” “You shan’t,—you’re a blackguard,—oh! don’t,—leave me alone,—wee I will feel it, if you’ll let me get up,—oh!—he! hi! hi!—for God’s sake don’t tickle,—hi!—I shall go mad,—you shan’t,—oh! don’t,—oh I if you don’t leave off.” “I shall,—I must.” “Oh! pray,—you shall if you leave off tickling then,—oh! don’t pray,—oh! I shall piddle myself,—he! he!” She was rolling on the floor, her thighs exposed, sometimes backside, sometimes belly upwards with all its trimmings visible. “Oh! it’s your fault,” and as she spoke actually piddle began to issue. I had my hand on her thigh, and felt and saw it.
Randy as I was I burst out laughing; and she man-aged to get up, began to push in her neckerchief which I had torn out of the front of her dress, and arranged her hair.
“Oh! look at me,—if anyone came, what a state I am in,” said she looking in the glass, and there she stood her breast heaving, her eyes swollen, her mouth open, and breathing as if she had just run a mile, but attempting nothing, saying nothing further, awaiting my attack. What randy, pleasureable excitement she must have been in, though unconscious of it, whilst only thinking of how to prevent my fucking her against her will.
“You began piddling.” “Didn’t.” “I felt the piddle on my hand.” She made no reply, but passed on, and wiped her face. When I said more she merely tossed her head. “Don’t be a fool Jenny,—let us,—you want it as bad as me.” Then I rattled out my whole bawdy vocabulary, “prick,” “cunt,” “fuck,” “spunk,” “pleasure,” “belly to belly,” “my balls over your arse,” “let my stiff prick stretch your cunt,”—everything which could excite a woman; to all of which she merely said, “Oho!—oh!” and tossed her head, and never took her staring eyes off me, nor ceased swabbing up her perspiring face, and at the same time looking at my throbbing, rigid cunt-stretcher.
Finding she took to yelling, and even hitting me, I desisted a moment. “Where is the book I sent you last night?” I had till then forgotten it. That opened her mouth. “Have not had a book.” “I saw the boy give it you, and you open it.” “He didn’t.” “He did.” “I burnt it,—a nasty thing,—I would not let my sister see it.” An angry feeling came over me for the moment, for I thought it probable, and should have had difficulty in replacing it. Then came an inspiration to help me,—a man always gets somehow on the right track to get into a woman if he has opportunity. Nature wills it. The woman was made to be fucked, and the sooner for them, the better for them.
“You have not burnt it,—I’ll bet it’s in your bedroom,—in your box.” “It isn’t.” “I’ll swear it’s there,—you have been reading it all night,—I’ll go up and see.” She started as if electrified into life as I made for the door. She got there before me, and stood before me. “You shan’t go,—you’ve no business up there,—I’ve burnt it,—it’s not there.” “It’s in the kitchen then.” “No, I’ve burnt it,” she went on rapidly and confusedly. “I’ll go and see,” said I pulling her from the door, she screeching out, “No you shan’t go up,—that you shan’t,—you’ve no business there.” Then I pulled up her clothes to her belly, she got them down, but still she kept her back to the door. I kept pulling her till her cap was off again, and felt sure she was getting weaker and weaker.
Then she turned round suddenly, opened the door, and ran up the stairs rapidly like a lapwing, I after her. Once she turned round, “You shan’t come up,” said she, and tried to push me back; and then again on she went, I following. I
stumbled, that gave her a few steps ahead; I sprang up three steps at a time, recovered the lost distance, and just as she got into the bed room, and slammed the door to, I put my foot in it,—it hurt me much. “Damn it, how you hurt my foot,—I will come in”—and pushing the door my strength prevailed; the door flew open, I saw her running round the bed, and there on the very pillow of the unmade bed lay Fanny Hill, open at one of the pictures. I threw myself across the bed, and clutched the book. She then stood motionless, panting and staring at me, she had clutched at it, and failed just as I caught it. She would have got it, but for having to go round the bed.
I laughed. “Have you not had a treat Jenny dear!” Her face was a picture of confusion. I was stretched half across the bed, and now went right across. Then to escape me she ran away, and had nearly reached the door when throwing myself over the bed again, I grasped her petticoats under her arse, and managed to pull her back. “Damned if I don’t fuck you,” said I, “by God I’ll shove my prick up your cunt if I’m hanged for it,”—and pushing a hand up behind I clasped her naked buttocks. She turned round, I pulled her petticoats clean up, she yelling, struggling, panting, imploring. I dropped on my knees, kissed her belly, and buried my nose between her thighs. The petticoats dropped over my head, her belly kept bumping up against my nose and lips, which were covered with her cunt-moisture.
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