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I am forty-two years old: an age when nature should moderate my ardours. — It may have done so, yet I can scarcely find any difference in my physical force, whilst my power of imagination in all things sexual has increased. — This imagination adds infinitely to the charm of coition and makes the woman lovelier than ever to me. — I am in full health and vigor, and am told good looking, more so than formerly, tho I can see no difference in myself. — All agree that I do not look my age. I can fuck once nightly as regularly as clockwork, oftentimes twice, and feel none the worse for the double action. Frequently, even that makes me feed and sleep better, and feel more refreshed and stimulated next morning. — With a fresh woman I can fuck thrice within the hour, but with that have finished my amour for a time. — But so it was with me years ago. [With a little abstinence, and a lovely woman with a fresh cunt, I have many times done my fifth between night and morning.]
I can perhaps for a time control my lustful impetuosity better than I could, which may be a sign of relaxation of strength. Yet at times I have such a strong, hot, fit of passion at the sight of a woman, that nothing restrains me till I’ve had her, if she can be had. Neither cost (whether I can afford it or not) nor risk deters me. — It seems to me that I then have the same determined aggressiveness which, overcoming a constitutional timidity frequently felt by me with women, tho I have not often told of it, has given me hitherto such success in my amours, — and even with harlots. — Success often times unexpected. My temerity in the attack, so crowned with victory, often times astonished me when my passion has been cooled in the darling’s arms, and I have had time to think over what has passed.
Certainly I can now do what years ago I was incapable of, — dally with my lust under the strong excitement of a fresh cunt. I can pull my prick out of it as my sperm begins to rise, await its subsiding, put my prick in again, again postpone the crisis, and get by this husbandry, this prolongation, as much voluptuous delight out of one fuck as I used out of two. I can at times look at a cunt which my prick has never yet opened, and by strong effort of will, contemplate it for a time even with a stiff and throbbing prick. I think at times, even, that I can prevent my prick from stiffening, when looking at a lovely naked woman, but this for a short time only. — Directly afterwards, when I allow desire full swing, my prick, in rapid throbs, jerks itself up erect. — It seems to me to rise to duty with the throbbing of my heart, when the restraint of my will is removed from it.
I have much, perhaps great, knowledge of sexual matters as it affects both male and female in their daily life, and feel sure that with that experience, coupled with the influence of my age, I can get mastery over women more easily than formerly. — Yet have I not been already sufficiently masterful with them? But my deeper knowledge tells, and adds to my power and pleasure. I can astonish the younger ones, whores tho they may be, by telling them as much as they know, and some of the young practitioners more than they know. — [Many a young pair of eyes I have, since this was written, seen to wonder at my disclosures.] Then finding I know so much of their sex, their mendacity, little dodges, artifices, salacious tricks, and lewed habits, they are frank and tell me much about themselves and of their class. That is to say, some do, — those who naturally are frank. — Those innately cunning liars — but little.
I like to notice carefully, quietly, the difference in cunts; to study the look of cunts. This taste for comparing them has been growing on me for years. But more — I can tell, I think, tolerably closely, the age of a woman by the growth of the hair around, and the general aspect of her vulva. — “How old do you guess I am?” — “Wait till you’re naked my dear, and when I’ve looked at you from your arse hole to your navel, I’ll guess.” — “You are a funny man, — well look then — now tell me.” — That often has occurred, and it pleases me to inspect and to guess.
I can look at a woman’s bum hole without dislike, and like pressing it with my finger, when my prick is in her cunt, and, in the ecstacy of the spend, even to intrude it. — Have I not done now nearly everything? Is not everything which two people like to do together, fit and proper for them to do? Besides, some sweet Paphians whom I have had, and enjoyed my embraces, liked that anal plugging.
What often astonishes me is my desire to do again every thing sexual and erotic, which I have done already. Yet many things done, I fancied I should never repeat. I have frigged a man. — My curiosity satisfied, I said to myself, — “I shall never frig a man again.” — Yet I want to do so. — After each nearly hairless cunt which I have fucked, I have said, “Bah! she is not so well worth a stiff one as a full grown woman. There’s no squeeze in the cunt, tho it be so small and tight — less soft liquidity exudes to meet my sperm, I’ll not have another.” — But I want another, and seem even to forget the sensation and the distinct pleasure that the small cunt gave me. I still want to compare them with the pleasure from larger cunts. — Nay, I crave for a young, unfledged cunt to lodge my prick in once more, and for the very fact of its being young and unfledged, and without thought of the pleasure of the fuck in it.
I want to do every thing over again. All former gratifications which were a little out of the common, seem to have faded from my recollection somewhat. — I don’t clearly enough recollect my sensations, or the quality of the pleasure they gave me. I wish to refresh my memory by repeating the amorous exercises. It is not my lust or powers which want stimulating by variety; it rather seems as if it were strong animal want which is stimulating my desires and exercising my brain to invent even voluptuous combinations. I should like now, I fancy, those amusements I have often objected to. I should I think like my prick sucked by a sweet red lipped mouth. — Many a time I have refused that. What made me do that trick with the three Italian Graces at F
**
r
***
e I wonder?
Certainly I should like to gamahuche a pretty, coral tinted, hairless cunt, between young thighs. And a large stiff white prick! — I should like to see the sperm start from it, whilst I handled it. — Big women and little, black and light haired cunts, cunts of fourteen, and cunts of forty, I should like to see and taste again.
And I am middle-aged, and as some would say, should know better. Bah! — why should I not enjoy myself erotically if I fancy it, even if I were a centenarian? —
“Vive le con, vive le vit.
” — I will recommence as if I were young and ignorant. — Know better? He who knows how to get full enjoyment of life, be it done how it may, knows best.
I have perhaps arrived at the period of philosophical eroticism, but have I anticipated the period? Camille says that I have, and reminds me that she always said I should, whilst
“beau garcon.”
— In fact I know everything about women: their sexual organization, the mysterious influence that the womb exercises upon them, and they upon us from the same source of vitality. — But whilst I flatter myself thus, I know also that I may be, and probably shall be, deceived by them, have their dust thrown in my eyes, — humbugged by them.
Any man may be humbugged by a woman whom he loves. Nay if he only likes her much, he is sure to believe her. It would pain him too much to disbelieve. This my opinion of masculine weakness, for many a year I have held. — It has saved me, I believe, from more than one false step, from several dilemmas. — It may save me from others, but who knows? If I should love, or only lust after, or only like, it will not, especially from gay women. — A gay lady is almost by necessity a liar and trickster — money, money does it. — But in love matters, all women, modest or immodest, are liars, they will lie like a dentist to serve their turn.
Trust them not,
shall be my motto henceforth, but fear it will avail
me
but little, if I love or lust for them.
[Thus ran my thoughts, during the time I was constant and true to one (and to whom I thought I should be constant and true for ever), and the period of hesitation which ensued afterwards. — Thus did sensual cravings surge and struggle with me till I yielded. — They worried me even afterwards, whilst I indulged my lust with cheap Paphians, whom I sighted, longed for, fucked, paid, and dismissed, oftentimes in half an hour; leaving me unsatisfied, almost doubting what had taken place, yet with a desire to see more of their seat of pleasure, which in my lustful impetuosity I had had but a glimpse of. That flash of the cunt before my eyes had a sorcery of its own, for I could rarely help thinking of it and wishing to contemplate it more at leisure, and to think about it when contemplating.]
[Such fugitive pleasures also left me with fear of ailment, not for my own bodily suffering, but for the disclosure of its origin and source, and of the anguish that the disclosure would cause to
her.
Often I vowed that never — never — would I incur the risk again. — Alas for such resolves. — A stiff prick has no conscience. — A lustful throb in mine at a pretty face, a neat ankle, a swinging backside in sight, and all was forgotten, till I saw my sperm rolling out of her cunt, and my regrets and fears returned.]
When I recommended indiscretions (to use the accepted and modest term for going on the loose and fucking others than the legitimate one), I sought Camille. — Years had passed since I had had her, and the look at her was a pleasure to me. —
“Mon Dieu! c‘est vous mon ami, je suis enchantée de vous revoir, j’ai cru vous avoir perdu. — How
well you look. — Ah, unchanged — as young and handsome as ever. — Ah, why have you so long neglected me?” — We kissed, in another minute my fingers were on her cunt, hers around my prick — our mouths were glued together in silence, and in a few minutes more, my prick was throbbing out its sperm into her heavenly receptacle, which gave out its tribute to meet mine whilst we sighed ourselves into voluptuous silence.
Camille was unchanged, excepting that she had got stouter, and the hair of her cunt was thicker and covered her motte more. — Her lovely, smooth, satiny skin, her quiet voice, her other perfections mental and carnal, were the same. — But I fancied she had more the manners of a Paphian, more those of a professional fuckstress than when last I had her. We resumed our conversations as of yore. — Fucking and frigging, gamahuching and minetting, sodomy, thumbuggery and tribadism — male with male — woman with woman — man with woman — all the changes were discussed. — All, we agreed, were permissible amusements, and that only fools would hesitate to get any enjoyments out of any parts of their body that they lusted for. It was the same philosophy — a theory of pleasure we had agreed upon years before, and we only reaffirmed it now, after increased experience.
But I wanted other women besides. Camille. — Soon she perceived that want, for she asked me if she should get me this woman or that pleasure. She had had now the experience of some years of harlotry, and knew men’s natures. — Well, for a short time I accepted her aid, but then went my own way and again ceased seeing her altogether. [Partly perhaps because she left England and partly owing to a change in my residence.]
Then I went promiscuously and took a clap. It was not so serious an affair as the previous one, and luckily, being then temporarily alone in my home, it enabled me to get cured without the ailment being discovered. — It made me more cautious, made me insist on rigorous washing, and cuntal injections, before embracing the ladies afterwards. Occasionally also I then used French letters, but I could not bear them, nor they me. The injections also even if only of soap and water, left the cunts so rough, that my sensitive prick was deprived of half its pleasure. I have lately noticed, more than ever, that some cunts have more natural lubricity than others, and that my pleasure in coition depends on that smoothness. That a sort of soapy, greasy, mucilaginous lubricity, gives me the most pleasure. That is found in perfection in girls about eighteen years old, and afterwards up to a certain age. I think it diminished in a woman after forty.
BOOK: My Secret Life
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