The Decadent Handbook

by Rowan Pelling

  There had been a market at A***n*n that morning. Some of the farm-people had come by the train for the first time, the junction railway only having just been opened. I had heard them say so on the platform before I was taken short. Hearing voices just outside my shed, I cautiously opened the door ajar and peeped. Groups of market people had arrived, and were standing outside the station, mostly women with baskets. The eaves of the shed-roof projecting much, gave a little shade from the sun, and they were standing up against it. That told me there would be another train soon; so I shut the door.

  In a few minutes close to my door I heard two female voices, ‘I want to do caca,’ said one of them (in French of course). ‘They charge you a penny,’ said the other. ‘I won’t pay a penny, – we shall be home in twelve minutes when the train starts.’ ‘I shall piss,’ said one in broad French. She was close up against the spot where I stood, a board only between us. I heard a splash, then two splashes together. I opened the door ajar again, and peeped. They were both standing upright, but pissing. Both laughed. ‘I must do it somewhere,’ said one. ‘Go over there then, – they won’t see you.’ ‘No I’ll go to the woman, and say I haven’t any money when I come out.’ The next minute she came into the privy with the peep-hole. On my knees I went, and saw the operation complete. Such a nice little girl. She sat some minutes after she had dropped her wax, pulling her petticoats well up from time to time. I had such gloat over her cunt. Once or twice she put her hand under, and felt it.

  Spite of my diarrhoea, my prick got so stiff, and I was so randy, that with my eye to the hole and gazing on her round bum and gaping cunt, I frigged myself. My sperm fell on the partition in front of me. I sat looking at it, when I was shitting again. The girl went back to her companion by the shed, and said she had been obliged to pay, and it was a shame. I opened the door, feeling as if I must see the girl’s face again. They saw me. ‘There’s some one in there,’ said one, and they moved away.

  After that the woman in charge wiped the privy-seat, which I suppose was dirty. Then two or three women came in. Old, and dirty were one or two of them, who sat on it English fashion. I saw their skinny buttocks, and the back-view of their cunts. It sickened me, for they all of them shit, which revolted me. Yet the fascination of the cunt made me look at all of them, – I could not help it. One woman had her courses on, and moved aside a rag to do her needs, – that nearly made me vomit. That woman squatted on the seat.

  For a quarter of an hour or so no one came. A trumpet, a railway-bell, and a hubbub, then told me the express train was coming in. Then was hurry, and confusion, a jabber of tongues in many languages. All the closet-doors banged at once, and I heard the voices of my country-women.

  Pulling her clothes up to her hips a fine young English woman turned her bum on to the seat. It came out of a pair of drawers, which hid nearly her buttocks. As she sat down her hand eased her drawers away from her cunt. Splash, trump, and all was over. The hair of her cunt was lightish. She was gone. Another came who spoke to her in English, and without a moment’s delay pissed, and off she went.

  Then a lady entered. As she closed the door I saw a man trying to enter. She pushed him out saying in suppressed voice, ‘Oh! for God’s sake are you mad? – he can see from the carriage-window.’

  ‘Not there sir,’ I heard the woman in charge cry out. The door was shut, and bolted.

  The lady, young and handsome, stood quite still, facing the seat, as if overcome with anxiety; then feeling in her pocket, took out some letters, and selecting some, tore them in half, and threw them down the privy. That done she daintily wiped round the seat with a piece of paper, lifted up handsome laced petticoats, and turning her rump towards the seat daintily sat down. She had no drawers on. She must have fancied something, for she rose again directly, and holding her clothes half-way up her thighs looked carefully at the seat. Then she mounted it, but as if she scarcely knew how to do it, stumbled and bungled. She stood upright on it for an instant, and then I could only see half-way up her legs. At length the bum slowly descended, her petticoats up, and adjusted so as to avoid all chance of contamination. I saw the piss descending, but she was sitting too forward, and the piss fell splashing over the edge of the seat. She wriggled back opening her legs wider, and a pretty cunt with dark hair up to her bum-hole showed. My cock stood again. She jumped off the seat, looked down the privy, gave her clothes a tuck between her thighs, and went off.

  Then came others, mostly English, pissing in haste, and leaving, and bum after bum I saw. Then came a woman with a little girl. She was not English, she mounted the seat, and cacked. Whilst doing so she told the child to ‘pi-pi bébé’ on the floor, which she did not. When she had finished she wiped her arse-hole with her finger, – how she cleaned the finger I didn’t see. She then took up her child, held her up over the seat with her clothes up to her waist, her cunt towards me, and made her piss. The tiny stream splashed on the seat, and against the hole through which I was looking – a drop hit me on the eye. How funny the hairless little split looked to me. To think that her little split might one day be surrounded with black hair like her mother’s, and have seven inches of stiff prick up it. Her mother’s hair was black, and she had a moustache.

  Again a row. ‘Not there Monsieur, – l’autre côté.’ ‘It’s full God damn it – I am not going to shit myself,’ said a man in English. ‘Vous ne pouvez pas entrer,’ – but he would. A big Englishman – a common man – pushed the woman in charge aside, and bolted the door muttering. ‘Damned fool, – does she think I’m going to shit myself!’ He tore down his trowsers, and I moved away, but heard him let fly before he had sat on the seat (he had the squitters), and muttering to himself, he buttoned up and left. I heard him wrangling with the woman in charge.

  Instantly two young ladies entered, sisters seemingly, and English, – nice fresh-looking girls, both quite fair. One pulled up her clothes. ‘Oh! I can’t sit down, – what a beastly place, – what beasts those French are,’ said she, ‘dirty beasts, – call the woman, Emily.’ Emily looked outside. ‘I can’t see her, – make haste, or the train will be leaving.’ ‘I can’t sit down.’ ‘Get on the seat as those dirty French do, and I’ll hold your petticoats up. Take care now, – take care.’

  ‘I shall get my feet in it,’ said she. ‘No you won’t.’ She stood fronting me, and pulling up her petticoats till they looked as if tied round her waist in a bundle, showing every part from her motte, to her knees, (my eye just at the level of her bum), and saying, ‘Don’t look and laugh’ – but laughing herself, she got on the seat. A prettily-made creature, not stout, nor thin, with a cunt covered with light-brown hair. She squatted. I saw the bum-hole moving. ‘I can’t do it like this,’ she cried, ‘with all this nastiness about me, – are my clothes falling down?’ ‘No, – make haste, – you won’t have another opportunity for two hours.’ Out and in went the anus again, the pretty fair-haired quim was gaping, the piddle began to fall. She wanted to piddle badly enough. I said aloud in my excitement at seeing her beauty, ‘Cunt, cunt.’

  The girl got upright, I could now only see half her legs. ‘Hish! Did you hear?’ said she. Both were silent. ‘It must be the woman in the next place.’ ‘It sounded like a man.’ Then she spoke in a whisper. ‘No it can’t be.’ She squatted again laughing. ‘It’s no one.’ Her evacuations dropped and off she got. ‘You go, Mary,’ said the other. ‘I only want to pee, and I’ll do it on the floor.’ ‘The dirty creatures, why don’t they keep the place clean?’ Squatting I watched her face. It was all I could see then, and suppose she pissed. I only saw her hitch up her clothes, but nothing more.

  Then the closet-woman came, and wiped the seat grumbling, women opened the door whilst she was doing so, then others came in, and for half an hour or so, I saw a succession of buttocks, fat and thin, clean and dirty, and cunts of all colours. I have told of all worth noting. The train went off, and all was quiet. I had again diarrhoea, and what with evacuating, the belly-ache, and frigging excitement, felt s
o fatigued that I was going away. As I opened the door the woman was just putting the key in. She started back as she saw me.

  ‘Are you ill?’ she said. ‘Yes.’ ‘What a time you have staid, – why did you not go?’ Then all at once, as if suspecting something, she began looking at the backs of the women’s closets, and found the hole, and looking half smiling, half angry, ‘You made that,’ said she. ‘No.’ ‘Yes you did.’ I declared I had not. ‘Ah! Méchant, méchant,’ said she (looking through the hole), and something about the chef de la gare. ‘You have been peeping through.’ ‘Certainly.’ I was so excited, so full of the adventure, that I had been bursting to tell some one, and talk the incident over. So in discreet words I told her about the man, and the woman, and her letters, and other incidents, till she was amused, and laughed. Then spite of my illness my lust got strong as I looked at her, for she had a cunt. She was a coarse sun-tanned, but fine stout sort of tall peasant woman about thirty-five years old. So I told her of the pretty little splits, and nice bums I had seen, all in select language. And I so longed, Madame. ‘Oh! if I had had them in here.’ ‘Ah! no doubt.’ ‘Or if you had been here, for I wished for you.’ ‘For me? – ah! ah!’ – and she slapped both her thighs and laughed. ‘Mais je suis mariée, moi, – ah! méchant, méchant.’ ‘Here is another five francs, but I must have a kiss.’ She gave it seemingly much flattered. I said I should come the next day. ‘Ah! non!’ she must tell the Chef, it was her duty, – it would be useless if I came for that hole.

  We talked on. She was the wife of a workman who it seems travelled up and down the line almost continually with officers of the railway, and only came home about once a week, or ten days. She had no children. Whilst talking my diarrhoea came on. My paper was gone, she produced some from her pocket, and simply turned her back whilst I eased myself (the enclosure had no door), as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Finally after saying that she would not dare to let me in the next day, yet on a promise of ten francs she said she would, and volunteered the information, that by an early train many farmers’ wives would probably arrive for the market, that many would come by the line just opened She must report the hole to the Chef, – it might cost her her place if she did not, and it would be stopped. I kissed her again, and whispered in her ear, ‘I wish I had seen you sitting, and that you had come in here afterwards.’ ‘Ah! mon Dieu que vous êtes méchant,’ she replied laughing, and looking lewdly in my eyes – and I went off. I had been there hours.

  I took my luggage back to the hotel, eat, got refreshed, went early to bed, awakened quite light and well, and got early to the station. She was awaiting me and directly I approached, took no notice of me, but opened the door, looked in, closed it and walked away. I guessed what the game was, loitered about till no one was on that side, then slipped into the shed, the door of which she had left ajar. Soon after in she came, and gave me the key. ‘No one is likely to come,’ said she. ‘It’s only the Chef and Sous-Chef whom the seat was made for, and now they have new closets on the other side of the railway; but if they should, say that you saw the door open and wanting the cabinet used it.’ Then off she went, but not till I had kissed her, and asked her to go and sit on the women’s seat. I found the peep-hole plugged up, and could not push the plug out. I hesitated, fearing to make a noise; but hearing a woman there, my desire to see cunt overcame all scruples. With my penknife I pointed a piece of wood, applied it to the plug, and taking off my boot to lessen the noise, hit it hard with the heel, and at length out tumbled the plug. I expect it fell down the seat-hole.

  Two well-to-do French peasants came in. One got on to the seat and to my annoyance shit and farted loudly, both talking whilst stercoratious business was going on, as if they had been eating their dinner together. She had huge flappers to her cunt, – an ugly sight. The next pissed only, and I was rewarded by a sight of a full-fledged one, and a handsome backside. One had a basket of something for the market which they discussed. One said they must give the caretaker a halfpenny, and they evidently thought that a great grievance. What had they been in the habit of doing in such necessities previously I wonder. One said she would take care not to pay it again. The closet accommodation at railways in France was at that time of a very rough primitive kind, seats had not long been introduced.

  For half an hour all the women were of that class, many quite middle-aged. More women came into that privy, than into the others I could hear. (I had given the keeper the ten francs.) They were mostly full-grown, and had thickly dark-haired cunts. Almost all the women mounted the seats, some pissed over the seat as they squatted. I was tired of seeing full-grown cunts, disliked seeing the coarser droppings, and left the peep-hole weary, but the cunts took me back there.

  Two sweet-looking peasant girls came in together, they must have been about fourteen or fifteen years old, only, and both had slight dark hair on their cunts. When they had eased themselves they stood and talked. One pulled her petticoats up to her navel, the other stooped and looked at her cunt, and seemed to open it, then the other did similarly. They spoke in such low tone, and in patois, that I did not understand a word they said. Both girls wore silk handkerchiefs on their heads, had dark blue stockings and white chemises. They were beautifully formed little wenches, and I longed for them with intense randiness, but restrained myself from frigging, determining to find a woman somewhere to fuck, and I felt again an overwhelming desire to tell some woman of the sights I was witnessing.

  I missed a good deal of the talk when women were together, owing at times to noise in the station; yet the women who came by express trains talked very loudly, nearly always. They seemed in a scuffle of excitement, ran in, eased themselves, and ran out quickly; and if two together, spoke as if they had not the slightest suspicion of being overheard.

  No one had yet noticed the peep-hole, though so large. The women seemed mostly in a hurry, pulled up their petticoats, and turned their rumps to the seat directly they had shut the door. At length a splendid, big, middle-aged woman came in, and was most careful in bolting the door, then turning round towards the seat, she lifted her clothes right up, and began feeling round her waist. I wondered what she was at. She was unloosing her drawers. She was dressed in silk, had silk stockings on, and lace-edged drawers [drawers were only then just beginning to be worn by ladies]. Peeping from between the drawers every now and then was the flesh, but nothing more suggesting what was behind.

  Apparently unable to undo them, she broke the fastening with both hands, and the drawers fell down to her knees. What a pair of lovely thighs she had, but I only saw even those for a second, for her petticoats fell. She disengaged her limbs from the drawers, pulling the legs one by one over her boots, rolled up the drawers tightly, and put them into her pocket. Then pulling up her petticoats as she stood sideways I had a glimpse for a second of a splendid bum, and the edge of the hairy darkness. Then she dropped them, stood still and looked. I felt sure she was looking at the hole, and drew back. When I looked again the hole was plugged with paper. I did not move it till I heard she had gone.

  Although now growing tired of seeing backsides, and cunts gaping in the attitude in which cunts look the least attractive; yet I felt annoyed at missing the sight of this lady’s privates, and could scarcely restrain myself from pushing the paper through. I thought she told the closet-woman, for I saw that woman look in directly she had left.

  For a full hour I then saw nothing. I had not heard a train, and looked at my watch. It had stopped. I peeped out of the shed-door, saw no one, went out, put my head round the corner, and saw the care-taker knitting in the shade. She saw and followed me at my beckoning. The train had not arrived, it was one hour behind time.

  She came into the shed. ‘Talk low,’ said she, ‘for some one may be there and hear.’ I told her of the lady and her drawers. She said the lady had told her of the hole. We both laughed, she called me, ‘Sale, – méchant,’ but did not stop my kissing her. I got more free, and from hinting got to plain descriptions.
She took no offence. I told her of the two girls looking at each other’s cunts, that I longed to be kissing one of them; that the sight of their pretty slits made me long to have one of them (I used chaste words). ‘Or both,’ said she. ‘I’d sooner have you, for I like plenty of hair.’ In the half-light I saw her eyes looking full into mine. She laughed heartily, but stifled the noise, and I was sure that she felt lewd. I kissed her, and pinched her. ‘What fine breasts you have.’ Then her bum. ‘Laissez-moi donc.’ Then my hands went lower. ‘My God let me feel your cunt.’ ‘Hish! talk low,’ said she. The next minute I was feeling her cunt. ‘What hair, – delicious, – ah! foutre, – faisons l’amour.’ But she coquetted. ‘Now don’t, – if any one should come, – I won’t,’ – whilst gently I edged her up against the side of the shed, one hand full on her cunt all the while. ‘You must not, – mais non.’ Then out came my prick, and she felt it. Another minute’s dalliance. ‘Let me put the key in the door,’ said she, ‘and then no one can let himself in.’ She did, and in another minute standing up against the shed, we were fucking energetically. Didn’t she enjoy it!

  We had just finished when we heard the train-signals, and off she went. ‘Come back.’ ‘Yes, yes presently.’ Down to the peep-hole I dropped, holding my prick in my hand; there already was a cunt pissing in front of me. English I guessed, for she was half sitting on the seat. Then for half an hour was a succession of backsides and quims, mainly English and Americans (a first-class train only). I knew them by face and dress, and nice linen, and because they nearly all sat or half-sat on the seat, whilst others mounted it. I wished my country-women had mounted also, to enable me to see their privates better. They nearly all piddled only. There was a restoration at the station. Nearly every woman of other nationalities shitted, they wanted I guessed, full value for their ten centimes.