Did she love her young man? Yes she supposed she did; he was kind, attentive, and would make a good husband. She wanted to get married, to have a home of her own; besides he was not a workman, but a tradesman, and when married they would have a shop, and be in a higher position. She always spoke more of the house and shop, and her liberty, than of her young man.
She was of a highly nervous organization, and through me she was to be shocked severely. She half fainted the first day I took liberties with her, thunder and lightning gave her an inclination that way, twice afterwards she nearly fainted, any sudden thing annoyed her and turned her white. One occasion I’ll tell of now, the other in due course.
We fucked on the sofa after the first day; but though large, it was not like a bed, so afterwards we used to go to her bed room. I used to leave my hat and stick downstairs, so that in case of surprise I might stand in the hall, and say I had called to enquire. It was a stupid thing to do as I found out, and then I used to take it into the bed room. I had fucked her one afternoon, when a double knock came at the street-door, I knew it. “It’s my wife,” I said. Down I rushed for my hat, and returned to the bed room; and then Jenny opened the door. She had called to make some enquiry, and went away. I heard the door close, but no further noise or movement, then crept downstairs.
There sat Jenny on a chair, just recovering from a half faint. “Oh!” said she, “I nearly dropped down.” “Ah! she would have knocked you down my dear, if your cunt could have spoken and said what was inside it.” But Jenny never could joke. It was always dreadful, and she was to be punished in some way for her evil deeds with me. A few tears, and then a little bawdy chaffing brought smiles again on her face.
I delighted in talking bawdy to her, told her smutty stories about the women I had had, described their charms, and any special lasciviousness connected with them. Her astonishment was great; her curiosity intense; she in return told me all she knew about every other woman, and all her own little bawdy doings. Never was a woman so frank about such matters. When I left her I doubt whether her dear John could have told her half what she could have told him about fucking, and the two articles that copulation is done with.
Her talk was all about her sisters, and principally of the married one who came to sleep with her; a woman about twenty-eight years of age, who had been married some years, and had two children, the last one four years old. She, or rather he, did not mean to have any more, they could not afford to keep them. “How did they stop it?” I asked Jenny. She did not know. But one night the sister wanted particularly to sleep at home, and had asked Jenny if for once she would sleep in the house alone. She consented though frightened. I proposed sleeping with her, and we passed a very delicious night together: a man and woman fresh to each other, always do in bed. What a night of feeling, frigging, sniffing, inspecting, and fucking it was!
At all times, no matter what we began talking about, cunt and cock were sure to become the subject. That night I learned that her sister had slept away, expecting to catch her husband out in some infidelities. Since he had determined to have no more children, he made her frig him instead of fucking; so the sister went short of cock and had to frig herself. That annoyed her. Then when he fucked her he did not do it properly, he cheated her sister, Jenny said. I was a long time in getting out of Jenny what the man did, at length she said, that just as the stuff was coming, he pulled it out, and it went all over her sister’s thighs or her belly, and often before she had had her own pleasure. Her sister thought it was just as well not to be married, as to go on like that.
That was not all. He used at first to do it every night, and now not once a week, said he could do without it, that he did not care about it, and so on. She believed that he had other women, and that was more aggravating because she wanted it herself more than ever. She was not so well, she told Jenny for want of fucking, she liked it, and would willingly have more children though she was so poor. I asked cautiously if she had heard of the skins which people put over their pricks, and into which they spent their seed? Jenny had not. I explained what they were. She said she would ask her sister about it. I cautioned her about showing that she knew too much. A few days afterwards Jenny told me her sister had tried them, but they did not like them, besides they could not afford them. What Jenny’s sister paid for French letters I don’t know, I used to pay nine pence each. I fucked Jenny with one on just to instruct her.
These two women talked often about such matters; and each day Jenny told me what her sister had said. Soon I knew all about her sister’s doings, from the night she lost her virginity to the birth of her last child. The little fucking that the sister had, and her longing for more affected me considerably; I quite longed to see this hot-bummed, cunt-neglected wife, and soon my curiosity was to be gratified in a way I little expected.
Jenny and I settled down quite matrimonially, I saw her certainly four days a week, or else every day excepting Sundays. At times I spent the whole day there, took wine, and meat, and newspapers. She cooked, and very badly. We ate and drank together, and fucked, she cried about John and her wickedness, and her fears of being found out. Then I read to her the news, and also every bawdy book I could get hold of, and explained to her every use that could be made of our tools, both male and female, from flat-cocking to buggery, so far as I knew,—but I did not know so much as I do now.
To prevent its being known I was there, we got quite cunning. I was not to come at eleven o’clock, because then the butcher came; nor at twelve, because the girls were always at the window next door; between one and two o’clock I was safe, because the family was always at dinner at that time; at three the milkman came, and I avoided him. So with a little trouble I pretty well escaped observation, during the eight or ten weeks which I did husband duty, and perhaps as much as some two husbands would have done.
Once she was awfully uneasy, for her courses had not come on, and shed flood of tears. She would lose her John, poor fellow! When in that way she was always pitying him, but she was always irregular in her menstruation, which rendered it difficult to judge of her condition. Oh! she was sure she was now in the family way, she had symptoms; she had asked her sister how she had felt when she had conceived, and her own symptoms were the same. “My God what shall I do!—I’ll drown myself, I will,—I shall never be able to face him,—poor fellow!” “Go and get something, go and see someone.” She went, took a dose of what she called “hikery-pikery,” and the ugly red stream came on. I don’t believe she was in the family way. Years after I heard she had never had a child, though long married.
Chapter XX
And now I was to become acquainted with her sister,—the married one. Jenny had no brother, had none of that knowledge about boy’s cocks which girls of the humbler classes have when they have brothers. I sometimes think that boys in the humbler classes show their cocks to their sisters; I don’t recollect a girl I have fucked who did not say she had seen her brother’s cock.
My knowledge of her sister’s dissatisfaction with the small amount of fucking she got, her disappointment at having her husband’s sperm on her thighs instead of up her cunt, and her very reasonable fears that at times it went into other receptacles besides her own, came forcibly to my mind. It would have been odd if it had not, for every time I poked Jenny we talked about her sister, indeed all our talk, unless about her sweetheart, and her fears was about fucking. I don’t recollect any woman I have had who was so anxious to know all, and delighted to hear of my amours, and the descriptions I gave of my various women. If I described their cunts she was amused beyond measure; and to tell all this suited me exactly. For all that she thought it wicked, and that they and I, and she, would be punished by the Almighty (her ideas about the action of Providence were peculiar).
It was the good fortune of her married sister to give me one of the most laughable, but yet natural, salacious, voluptuous treats I ever had, without her knowing she had done so,—and fro
m that came consequences which affected that lady herself.
I have always been highly delighted to see modest women naked or undress, or doing their toilet and little affairs, when they had no idea that anyone saw them. I have looked through dozens of keyholes, bored holes in doors, waited breathless and half-naked for hours at night, have risen by day-light to enable me to get these treats. I had seen as already said, the cunts of my aunt and cousins, young ladies and others bathing, etc. (and as I shall tell of, have since seen a noble lady frig herself.) I have seen in fact modest ladies at their most decent, as well as the most indelicate of their toilet performances, and think I prefer looking at them under such circumstances, rather than at the beautiful voluptuous creatures who undress willingly in my presence, for those are so intent on displaying their charms to the best advantage, to get a male erection and its crisis, as soon as possible, make much too evident what they do it for.
Jenny’s sister gave me one of those natural displays. Had the lady been drilled in the art of unfolding her charms for the excitement of a male, and driving him into erotic fury, she could not have more effectually done so. Of the many displays of female charms (of modest females) I have seen, I never had one so gradual, natural, voluptuous, and cock-stiffening, as she unconsciously gave me.
I called on Jenny one Saturday afternoon, she had said I had better go quite early, but I did not. It was another sultry day, thunder had been heard, the atmosphere was heavy, but no rain had fallen; and the sun was bright and blazing hot. Said Jenny, “I’m frightened to let you stop, my sister is going to leave off work early, and she will be here about five o’clock,—don’t come in.” I would. “We shan’t be half-an-hour,—it’s not half-past three.” A kiss, and a twiddle on her cunt settled the matter, and we went to her bed room. She was on the bed, I between her thighs, ready to drop into her, indeed I’m not sure that my prick had not touched her cunt, when a knock and a ring came at the street-door.
To fully understand what follows it should be known that the old lady my friend, for fear that the rooms should be used; had locked up all the rooms but the parlours and a little closet overlooking the street, and the servants’ bed room, and had taken away the keys. I did not know that then, I knew it that day.
“Oh! my God it’s my sister,—what shall I do?—I shall be ruined.” Pale as death, I thought she was going to faint again.
“Don’t be nervous, I’ll go and hide in the room below, and when she is downstairs or up here, go out quietly, and leave the street-door ajar.” “Oh! all the rooms are locked up.” “I’ll go into the parlours then, —you get her downstairs.” “Oh! she always goes into the parlour first, and sits down a minute, and talks.” There was no time for us to talk, more, for the woman knocked again. “Fetch my hat and stick (it was in the parlour),—you get her into the kitchen, then I’ll slip out leaving the street-door ajar.” Down we both went, three stairs at a time, up I went again with hat and umbrella, and had only got to the top when I heard poor trembling Jenny opening the street-door. I leant over the banisters, and listened.
“I’ve knocked twice Jenny.” “Did you?—I was dozing,—the thundery weather makes me so queer.—Have a cup of tea, and take a table out into the garden,—it will be fresher there to have tea.”
“No I’ve got my new dress, it will rumple it if it’s long in the bundle, I must open it. Such a pretty one,—you will like it I think.—Tom did when I showed him the pattern,—I’ll take it up to the bed room, and hang it up.”
Jenny’s voice rose almost to a shriek. “Oh! no, no, don’t,—come and have tea first,—I’m so thirsty, so tired,—come downstairs.” “Well you go and make it, I’ll only just hang it up in the bed room, and come down directly,” said her sister.
Jenny objecting, the sister answered angrily, “What are you in such a hurry for tea for?—it’s not time,—well have it by yourself, I can’t drink it,—I had a lot of beer at dinner, and Tom gave me nearly a pint before I left him,—it was so hot, I was so thirsty,—it’s on my chest now,—I can’t put tea on the top of it yet.” “Well if you won’t, I may as well go up with you,” said Jenny. Footsteps came nearer, and hat, stick, and self, I threw under the bed. Jenny came in looking like death. “She won’t find me here,—get her down soon,” was all I had time to say in a whisper before the sister following Jenny entered the room. I had quite hidden myself.
The bed had been a good one, the old gentleman and lady had slept on it for years; it was large and handsome, but being shabby and worn out, had that very month only been put to servants’ use. Round it were old red valances hanging to the floor, things not given to servants. No sooner was I under the bed, than I saw there were little openings at the seams, and some moth-holes, which permitted me to see through them. At one spot near to my shoulder as I lay crouching and doubled up, was a long slit where the valance had been torn down. By raising myself on my elbow, and squeezing my head against the mattress I could see perfectly, but no person in the room would have noticed me, even though the room was as bright as day, for the thick red hangings hid me in darkness under the bed, and I was on the side away from the window. I gazed earnestly at Jenny’s sister through this opening and others.
She was a well-grown, strong woman, with a handsome round face, and dark hair and eyes; she had shortish petticoats, and thickish ankles in good lace-up boots which, made much noise as she walked about. She had a huge paper parcel in her hands, which she placed on the bed; then for a moment she rested her bum on the bed-side, and Jenny did the same by the side of her. The parcel was between them, her ankles were within a few inches of my nose; I gently lifted the valance, and saw up the calf of her legs, her petticoats cut as they were in those days, being drawn up by sitting down. I remember almost every word, every action which took place on that memorable afternoon, and not a movement escaped me.
“I can’t untie it,—cut it.” “The scissors are downstairs.” “I’ll go and fetch them.” “Oh! no,—where is the knife that I cut my corns with?” “Oh I never mind,—there, I’ve done it,—I’ve broken it,”—and she rose up as did Jenny from the bed, and both now stood standing facing the side of the bed where I lay.
I heard the rustling of paper, the rustling of a dress, the noise of feet paddling about. “Oh! it is nice,—what did it cost?—who made it?” “I made the skirt, and Miss Skinner the body,—she charged me seven and six,—it’s not dear, is it?—I’ll hang it up, then the creases will come out.” “Let’s hang it up first.” And then on a peg at the back of the door the dress was hung up, and for a moment, both women stood admiring it, their backs towards me and the bed.
“Look,” said the sister, “it just wants a little something done to the sleeves,—she said it was not finished there,—oh! yes here it is,—I would not wait for her, I can easily do it myself,—I was glad to get it, and half feared I should not get it for Sunday,—the old beast never keeps her promise, but she has this time,—I gave her sixpence extra. Oh I my gracious how hot it is,—I’m sweating all over,—it’s awful,—I’ll pull off my frock, then I’ll finish the sleeves as it hangs up,—get us the needle and thread Jenny,—just thread a needle dear, while I pull off my frock.”
“Don’t,” said Jenny in an agitated manner, “let’s have tea first.” “No I must finish it,” and as she spoke she undid her dress, and slipped it off. A beautiful handsome pair of breasts came in view. “Oh! Lord look at my chemise,—look how I’ve sweated—see how the stain from the dress has gone through under my arms,—I stink of sweat,—how glad I shall be when the weather is cooler.” As she said that with a slight effort she drew her arms through the sleeves of her chemise, and lifting her freed arms showed a pair of black hairy armpits. I began to thrill and cock-stiffen. She lifted her fine arms up, and looked at the stained chemise as it hung over her stays, then with a heave and a push she freed her breasts, so that they were right over the top of her stays showing the nipples; then with n
aked arms, she began to work at the sleeves of the dress hanging up behind the door.
Jenny was all this time moving about in a restless manner, taking every now and then a hurried glance at the valance of the bed which concealed me; and as it seemed to me placing herself in such a position, as to prevent my seeing her sister’s upper nakedness; but it was quite useless, I could see all she had exposed.
She worked a few minutes talking to Jenny, who was making as much noise with her feet as she could. Then the sister looked up, and leaving off her needlework said, “This will make Tom want to do it to me,—a new dress always does, when he sees me in it,—he ain’t done it lately, he will tomorrow.” They both laughed, and she went to work again.
Again she stopped, Jenny then seated herself at the edge of the bed over me. “Oh! how awfully hot I am,—what a bore petticoats are,—I declare I’ve a good mind to leave them off this weather.” She stepped forwards. “I’ll take them off, I can slammack about tonight,—no one will see me.” “Oh! no don’t,” said Jenny in an excited way; but she quickly unlaced her stays, untied her petticoats, and slipped them down to her ankles. Her chemise which was no longer held up to her shoulders by the arms, slipped down with them, and she stood naked before me excepting her boots and stockings. She seemed to have forgotten that her chemise was no longer held up, for just as the petticoats fell below her cunt, she made a slight grasp as if to hold them up, then she gave a laugh, “That’s cool enough,” said she.
Erotic Classics II Page 136
