My Secret Life (45 page)

“How old am I?” said she in a conceited manner, when in the preludes of a fuck our hands were employed on each other’s privates. — “Thirty-three,” said I, wishing to please her. “That’s my age exactly.” — Aye, I thought, and seven years on to that. I am sure she was forty, tho in splendid condition. I mentally compared her with Mavis, Fisher, Pender, Mrs. O
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e, and a dozen big women, some of whom I know were thirty-five, — and from face, form, cuntal indications, and others between the bum bone and navel, am sure she was forty. — But I have rarely had a finer night’s amusement than I had with her, and I fucked her every hour until six in the morning. We were then both fucked out.

There was the difficulty in getting away — for half an hour was I peeping for an opportunity. — At last the coast was clear, the servants had gone off in various directions — out I stepped, and as she closed the door behind me, out stepped from a bedroom opposite, the chambermaid. — She gave an astonished look then turned her head. — I left L***s that night, and never told my middle aged beauty that the chambermaid had seen me leaving the bedroom, thinking it could not be helped and would only make her uncomfortable.

I am beginning to judge of the age of women by the look of their cunts and buttocks. — Age is indicated there, as much as by face and breasts. The growth of hair on the motte, and the state and color of the bum cheeks, valley, declare almost unmistakably when a woman has turned thirty, I think I might bet on it.

After this adventure with the American family, I went straight to Paris. There I had a half dozen women perhaps, at the Rue des M**1**s — but certainly not more, for my stay was limited to a few days — and came on then to England. If I had women on my return I have no memoranda about them — and am under the impression that I had one of the short fits of virtuous abstinence which occasionally overtake me, and to which I attribute having kept my health so well, amidst so much fucking. Then, two or three little lasses fell to my prick, in the most unexpected, exciting, and delightful way — but this result was no doubt owing to a predilection which had been growing on me. — It is by setting one’s mind steadily on the object, that so many chances have been found and utilized by me — but how comes it that letches for this and that seem at times to seize me suddenly?

I have often thought since of Aunt W
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r and her delicious cunt, and recollect that several middle aged women seem to have had the most perfect voluptuous cuntal grip of my prick, spite of the seeming capaciousness of their vaginas. Is it that their cunts grow fat inside, as they increase in flesh generally? — Certainly I recollect many young women, whose small, inviting looking orifices felt loose enough inside, and never gave me so much pleasure.

Aunt W
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r was by nature lascivious. It pleased her to bathe knowing that I was looking at her, and her niece as well, — “Your seeing her won’t do Amy any harm,” said she laughing. I fancy they were a hot cunted family, but the demeanour of all the ladies was irreproachable, but the indifference with which an aunt and niece exposed themselves naked to each other astonished me, and their lax notions abut fucking, which the conversation between the aunt and niece disclosed, astonished me more.

A letch for juveniles.
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On big and little cunts.
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In L**c**t*r s****e. — Polly
Carter, the young
boxmaker. — The brothel.
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“Show us yer thing. ”
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Willing for half a crown.
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Free, easy, and lewed.
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My quick spend.
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Her disappointed cunt.
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Remedial frig.
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Hpt cunted.
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Her occupation and habits.
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Of female box-makers.
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A father eluded.
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A friend’s experiences.
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Who first fucks
poor girls.

 

I have now great knowledge of the full grown, full cunted, thoroughly developed woman, my taste has mainly run in their direction, but recently I thought of the younger ones, and that I should like to try those less practised in the art of love, those with forms immature, with smaller and unfledged cunts, and with less cunning and experience in the ways of men, and with a curiosity to satisfy about the male. — For all that, I continued my attentions to the more matured females, and the nascent letch for a juvenile split went into abeyance.

Again the letch for a youthful cunt came on strongly. The idea of seeing a little delicate unfledged slit between two little thighs, instead of the bushy haired, five inch, fat lipped gaps, began to give me a fever of anticipation. I hesitated still a while in procuring myself that voluptuous satisfaction. Why I can not say, but I have been subject to lustful vagaries, hesitations, diffidence and timidity, as well as rash impulses in love affairs, which I cannot account for. So irrational and contradictory at times have they been, that I have been astonished at myself, so will not seek reasons for my hesitation at this time. Moreover my numerous Paphian friends have at times told me of similar male eccentricities, so that I come to the conclusion that many men are as absurd in their behaviour. But chance brought my letch to the front, and to accomplishment.

One night towards the end of November in L
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e, I accosted a lass who looked between fifteen and sixteen years old. She was walking very fast, and I was not quite sure whether she was on the town or not, but know that girls out by themselves at that time at night more frequently than otherwise get their cunts filled for love or money, before they get home.

“Come with me,” I said walking by the side of her. She slackened pace, but did not reply. I repeated it, she stopped, hesitated, looked at me, and replied, “I can’t stop long.” “You shan’t, but come.” In three minutes we were in a house new to me, but actually at the angle of L**c**t*r S****e, tho with a side door. — (Now covered with a fine building.)

I saw directly we were in the bedroom, that she was a work girl. — “I can’t undress, it’ll take me such a time to get em on agin.” “Yes you must.” “Just help us then, it’s in a knot behind.” — Off her clothes went, hurriedly. She was poorly dressed, and not too clean, I had not expected anything else. “I’ll take off my boots cos they’ll muddy the bed,” said she in a gossiping manner, and was soon on the bed in a dirty chemise only, and was a fairly good looking, dark eyed, and very dark haired girl. I threw up her chemise, and saw a cunt quite girlish in appearance, with a little bush of short, dark hair, about as much as would cover a half crown, surrounding the top of her split, and dying away altogether a little way down the lips, which were fattish and pudgy. Whilst standing and looking at it (her thighs obligingly open without my asking), “Show us yer thing,” said she. On producing it, she sat up and felt it earnestly, in quite a simple way, as if it pleased her. “Pull the skin off.” I did, and she chuckled. — “Ain’t it red?” “Do you want it?” “Shan’t tell yer; do it sir,” and she fell back laughing. Her manner was funny, lewed, but very natural, and not a bit like a harlot’s. — “When were you last done?” “My last overtime night, a week ago.” “Are you quite well?” I asked touching her cunt. “Oh I am’t got no illness, yer may see for yerself, sir.”

I mounted her quickly, being full of sperm that night. The little cunt excited me — its tightness pleased me, tho I don’t like very tight cunts generally — and her manner shewed me that she wanted it and that she was not quite a strumpet. “Let me feel it in,” said she putting her little hand down between our bellies when I was up her. Then instantly withdrawing it, and oscillating pleasurably her little backside in unison with mine, all on a sudden I spent copiously in her little cunt, too quickly for my wish, but as I often have done with a fresh girl when I have been three or four days without spending previously.

“Oh go on pushing I was just a commin,” said she, peevishly, and working her cunt up to me, but my prick shrinking rapidly, uncunted, and I turned off of her. — “What a shame, and I was just a comin,” and she began frigging herself, laying on her back, just as I had got off of her, and thighs open, my sperm oozing from it. And looking hard at me she frigged herself till she spent. There was no sham about it, she had been baulked by my rapid spend, and finished her pleasure by the aid of her fingers, looking at me, and I dare say thinking of my prick.

“It’s just as nice that way,” said I. “No it ain‘t, I likes to do it when the man does.” And then she told me she worked in the city, left at six o’clock nightly unless busy, and then worked till eight o’clock for which extra she got four pence. — She went there daily unless they were short of work. — She was fifteen and a half, and had been fucked about two months, “on Michaelmas day.” A lot of young girls worked in the same warehouse, and they all did it with chaps she believed, tho some of them said they didn’t. One of the apprentices did it to her first. He was about sixteen and she would not let him now, they had quarrelled, “Besides, he never gived me nothing.” — Her father knew the time she ought to be home regular, and kept her in, and gave it her pretty sharp if not home at proper time. But when she worked overtime, he didn’t know exactly when she left. — “And then you get fucked.” “Yes, if I’m lucky — but not often.” — Yes she liked it — “It’s such pleasure ain’t it?” said she, looking lewed, — “but I must go.”

I told her to lay still and I would fuck her if she liked but not otherwise. The edge of my lust being taken off, I could talk coolly about that hot operation, and she amused me. — “Yes, I’d like it, but what’s the time?” I told her. “Well do it agin at once then.” “My dear I can’t yet.” — She had not moved an inch during our conversation, which was nearly word for word as written, but lay with her fingers still twiddling her wet clitoris, and my sperm showing, I leaning on my elbow laying by her side and looking at her. — It was a common baudy house where they allowed young girls to go, the light was poor, the bed dingy, the girl’s stockings dirty, her chemise as bad, and my dainty prick seemed for the moment to have had enough of it.

But her youthful cunt, her evident lust, and coarse frankness made me wish for her again.

“Frig my prick up there,” said I. — She laid hold of it and frigged so clumsily that her art was useless. — “It won’t get stiff,” said she, in a disappointed manner. “Well, you don’t want it again.”

“Yes I’d like it.” “Well — I’ll try myself,” and I knelt between her thighs, pulled open her cunt lips and looked at the thick libation which bedewed its surface, all the time asking her questions about her sensations, and frigging myself briskly. As I did all this I stiffened, forgot about dirty bed, chemise, and stockings, and was soon covering her little belly with mine, and churning up my spunk in her tight little cunt, till the grip of it fetched me, and she spent demonstratively with me. Didn’t the young bitch like it?

We washed. Then I put her on the bed and looked at the clean little quim and paid her. She would meet me the next night at the same time, and would buy a clean pair of stockings (I gave her the money for them as I have done a dozen girls), she had none at home clean and she dare not put on a clean chemise till Sunday, her mother would know why if she did. — She reminded me much in her little dodges, and her talk, of yellow haired Kitty whom I knew some years ago, but Kitty was a lady naturally — this one a coarse little bitch — and as hot arsed as ginger.

The first thing she did the next evening when I met her, was to put on the clean stockings before me, and when we had finished love making, she took them off — her mother must not know of them. She had evidently made some attempt to get herself clean and better dressed. — “Yours is a beautiful cock,” said she, as she felt it clumsily. — I fucked her twice to her great pleasure. “Oh ain’t it nice a doing it,” and we parted. There would be no late work the next night she said, there might be next week, her father knew sometimes for he worked in the city too, and sometimes he called at the warehouse to know if his girl was going to work late, he thought to catch her out, but didn’t always. She grinned as she told me. Nothing but locking a girl up in a room by herself will prevent her getting fucked, if she means it; and the opportunities of doing it among the humbler classes are hourly — as I know pretty well. You may get any of them, if you don’t mind your time and money. — Well — it is what the two sexes were all made for, — to give pleasure to each other.

Then she told me she would be at half past six o’clock in ***** on other nights, that it took her exactly half an hour to walk there. — They left off work as it struck six, and at a quarter to seven if she wasn’t in doors, her father “larruped” her, unless she could tell why. Her name was Polly Carter.

My friend L***s has often told me that he has picked up half a dozen virgins in the streets. That a sovereign, offered to lasses looking in at a Linen-drapers, will get them to a house, and that the sight of the gold vanquishes them. He looks out for them quite young, for that turned sixteen they are scarcely ever virgins. He thinks from a large acquaintance with these youthful strums, that their cousins and friends (all boys — mere street boys of their own age), get the virginities for nothing, and before the girls are fifteen years old.

Few of the tens of thousands of whores in London gave their virginities either to gentlemen, or to young, or old men — or to men at all. Their own low class lads had them. The street boys’ dirty pricks went up their little cunts first. — This is greatly to be regretted, for street boys cannot appreciate the treasures they destroy. A virginity taken by a street boy of sixteen, is a pearl cast to a swine. Any cunt is good enough for such inexperience. — To such an animal, a matron of fifty or sixty would give him as much, if not more pleasure than a virgin. I am sure of this even from my own experience, for I cared nothing whatever about the virginities I took early in my life. It was cunt alone I cared about, and any cunt for my pleasure then was good enough.