My Secret Life (69 page)

I closed on him, put my hand round and gave his prick a frig — his bum was against my belly. — “Fetch me — oho — make haste, I’m bursting” — looking down I saw his bumhole and the desire whirled thro my brain like lightning. Without pausing or thinking, I felt his prick from under his balls, and whilst he almost shivered with desire — “Oh! make haste, fetch me” — I put both hands round him, feeling his balls with one, his prick with the other; and my own stiff prick I pressed under his ballocks, saying, “Let me put my prick up your bum.”

“That I won’t,” said he disengaging himself and turning round, “that I won’t.”

Furiously I said, “Let me — I’ll give you ten pounds.” “Oh no.” “I will give you all I have” — and going to my trowsers I took out my purse, and turned into my hands all the gold I had — it was, I think, more than ten pounds.

“Oh no, I can’t, it will hurt,” said he, eying the money. “It won’t.” “It will. When I was apprenticed, a boy told me a man did it to him, and it hurt him awful.”

I don’t know what I replied — but believe I repeated that it would not hurt, that it was well known that people did it, and as I talked I handled his prick with one hand, with the other holding the gold.

“It
will
hurt — I’m frightened, but will you give me ten pounds really?”

I swore it, talked about that of which I knew nothing — that I had heard it was pleasure to the man whose arsehole was plugged — that once done they liked nothing so much afterwards. His prick, which had dwindled under fear, again stiffened as I frigged, he ceased talking and breathed hard, saying, “I’m coming.” — I stopped at once.

“Let me.” “I don’t think you can, it seems impossible — if you hurt me will you pull it out?” “Yes yes, I will.”

He turned to the bed again and kneeled, but he was too high — I pulled him off — then it was too low. Again on the bed and I pulled his bum to the level of my prick, I locked the door, I trembled, we whispered. I slabbered my prick and his hole with spittle. His prick was still stiff. There was the small round hole — the balls beneath — the white thighs. — I closed on him half mad, holding him round one thigh. I pointed my prick — my brain whirled — I wished not to do what I was doing, but some ungovernable impulse drove me on. Sarah’s words rang in my ears. I heard them as if then spoken. My rod with one or two lunges buried itself up him, and passing both hands round his belly I held him to me, grasping both his prick and balls tightly. He gave a loud moan. “Ohoo I shall faint,” he cried. “Ho, pull it out.”

It’s in — don’t move or I won’t pay you, or something of that sort — I said, holding myself tight up to him. “Ohooo, leave go, you’re hurting my balls so” — I suppose I
was
handling them roughly — but his bum kept close to my belly.

I recollect nothing more distinctly. A fierce, bloody minded baudiness possessed me, a determination to do it — to ascertain if it was a pleasure — I would have wrung his prick off sooner than have withdrawn for him, and yet felt a disgust at myself. Drawing once slightly back, I saw my prick half out of his tube, then forcing it back, it spent up him. I shouted out loudly and baudily (Sarah told me), but I was unconscious of that. She was in her sitting room.

I came to myself — how long afterwards I cannot say. — All seemed a dream, but I was bending over him — pulling his backside still towards me. — My prick still stiff and up him. “Does it hurt now.” “Not so much.”

His prick was quite large but not quite stiff. A strong grip with my hand stiffened it, I frigged hard, the spunk was ready and boiling, for he had been up to spending point half a dozen times. My prick, still encased, was beginning to stiffen more. — He cried — “I am coming, I am coming” — his bum jogged and trembled — his arsehole tightened — my prick slipped out — and he sank on the bed spending over the counterpane — I stood frigging him still.

He spent a perfect pool of sperm on the bed. The maddening thought of what I had done made me wish to do it again. I forgot all my sensations — I have no idea of them now — I knew I had spent, that’s all. “Let me do it again.” “That I won’t for any money,” said he turning round.

Then I frigged myself and frigged him at the same time furiously. Fast as hands could move did mine glide up and down the pricks. Pushing him down with his arse on the sperm on the counterpane, I finished him as he lay, and I spent over his prick, balls, and belly. In ten minutes our double spend was over.

Immediately I had an ineffable disgust at him and myself — a terrible fear — a loathing — I could scarcely be in the room with him — could have kicked him. He said, “You’ve made me bleed.” At that I nearly vomited — “I must make haste,” said I looking at my watch, “I forgot it was so late. — I must go.” All my desire was to get away as quickly as possible. I left after paying him, and making him swear, and swearing myself, that no living person should know of the act.

Yet a few days after I wrote the narrative of this blind, mad, erotic act; an act utterly unpremeditated, and the perpetration of which as I now think of it seems most extraordinary. One in which I had no pleasure — have no recollection of physical pleasure — and which only dwells in my mind with disgust, tho it is against my philosophy even to think I had done wrong.

Sodomitically complaisant Paphians.
—
Conversations on sodomy with Sarah.
—
I suggest.
—
She refuses.
—
Mutual incitements.
—
Mutual consents.
—
Trials and failures.
—
Successful at last.
—
Her sensations.
—
Effects on her bum hole.
—
Another trial suggested.
—
I decline.
—
A lewed evening.
—
Fucking, minetting, and masturbating.
—
Candle and fundament.

 

I must have been, indeed was, in an almost wild state of mind that night. When I got clear of the street, I saw some gay women, chaffed, and asked them how their arseholes were. My mind ran on anus and nothing else. — A beautiful legged French woman — it was a muddy night — lifted her petticoats and showed nice legs — I went home with her, and turning her bum towards me, looked at her arsehole and asked if
she’d
been
buggered.
She was angry. Then I found I had not money enough to pay her, and we had a row. — I went to one of my clubs, borrowed, went home with another woman, pulled her about, looked at
her
sphincter, and asked if
she’d
been
buggered.
— “No.” I offered three pounds to her to let me. I might try, but she thought it impossible. Her bum was towards me, her hole very brown — and the mere fact of her permitting it so disgusted me that I paid the price of a fuck and left
her
directly — I went home yet with another woman, whom I fucked dog fashion, pulling open her buttocks and looking at her bumhole as well as I could, whilst shoving up her. Then I went to my own home, thinking of buggery, and wondering what the sensation was like — for I had no defined notion of it left, such was the state of mad excitement in which I had performed the act. Then I fell asleep.

The next night I saw Sarah in the streets and avoided her, and for a week or so. Then I met her and took her to
^****
St. for amusement — I never mentioned him, and told her not to do so. At a second meeting the same. But she, — “Aren’t you going to see ***? He’s every day with me bothering, asking what he is to do, what he’s done to offend you. He cries about you almost.”

I said that I never meant to see him again, and was sick, sorry, and sad about the affair. — So she told him, I believe, that I had gone abroad. From that day to this I have never set eyes on him, and avoided enquiring about him till once long after. Then Sarah told me that after having spent all his money and pawned his clothes, he had gone to work at painting again.

I cannot describe the effect these frolics had on me. Spite of myself I could think of nothing else — This is the more remarkable because until the few last years I could not bear the look of an anus, and when I fucked dog fashion, I rarely looked at the lady’s bum hole. — Now all was anus — anus — nothing but anus. The incidents flashed across my mind repeatedly, and altho the recollection of the thing sickened and even revolted me — altho I felt disgusted with myself — still I desired to try again, to know what the pleasure was — for of that I seemed to know nothing — had not the slightest idea — all was blank.

One night I took woman after woman to a house — and after looking at their cunts, suggested that the other entrance would suit me better. I was unsuccessful at first, and felt abashed, yet persisted. — At length I had a tall dark French woman, and began by fucking her dog fashion — then pulled apart her bum cheeks, and said I should like to put into her bum hole. — “You must give me another sovereign then,” said she quickly. — Out came my prick. “Wait a minute,” said she. Going to a closet and returning with cold cream, she began to anoint my prick with it, and then anointed her own bum hole — turned round — and the next minute guided my prick there herself.

I refused, left directly, and took a disgust at her; but thought I had had an instructive two sovereigns’ worth.

Next night an English woman consented freely, and instantly I paid her and left, my curiosity satisfied. My fancy then turned to Sarah. I thought of our conversations, of the attempt with our fingers, and soon took to fucking her with her backside towards me, and looking at the round orifice when doing so. At length I made the proposal to her, and she said she’d see me in hell first.

The conversation then had a bumhole ramming tendency — I told her what I had tried with the Devonshire woman in my extreme youth, but never about the man. We sat and talked, then lay down and talked about it, till she — “I have a good mind to try.” “Do, and if it hurts I’ll never do it again.” “Did it seem to hurt the woman you did it to?” I told her I could not tell, that it seemed like a dream years, years before. “Try it — I want to try with
you
whom I know, and if we don’t like it, we won’t repeat it, I half wish to know what it is like,” said she.

She came and leant over the side of the bed. I think I see her now — with her bum projecting, the dark haired, full lipped cunt pushing out between her thighs. She was tall, her bum exactly at a level for the work, everything was convenient. “Now if it hurts, promise not to go on.” She straddled her legs apart conveniently. With one hand holding open the bum cheeks to see, and with my heart beating, I guided my prick. It began to droop and as fast as I write this, it shrivelled up.

I frigged it stiff, again and again — but the instant the tip touched the brown hole, it shrank. I thrust it up her cunt till almost ready to spend, then pulled it out, and again tried. Down it drooped. Then she sucked it stiff, and again presenting her mark, I again essayed. It was equally useless. All but finishing a fuck in her cunt, to stiffen it for a last trial, I pulled it out and pushed towards the brown circle, when my discreditable prick spent over her rump, and I was unable again to stiffen it, altho I tried my fingers, her fingers, her cunt, and her lips.

I had promised her five pounds if I effected the delicate entry, and she thought I ought to pay it. I did not, and paid fucking price for I had now made up my mind to do it, and when I make up my mind to a thing, like it to come off. — “I have had a stiff prick from merely thinking about your bum hole, and now I fail. When can I try again? — I don’t think my prick likes the color.”

Next night I went to the spot she usually was to be found at
^****
and off to the A
^**
a we went. My pego almost lifted me off the ground — I had a pot of cold cream. Hastily we undressed, and turning her buttocks towards me I greased her hole. Then
she
funked it, and turned round. She had been thinking it over and would rather not, altho wishing to try the sensation, she said.

Refusing her invitation to fuck, or be sucked, I buttoned up in a temper to go away. — “The other night I seemed to wish it, but now I fear it, but come and try — give me your word that if I cry out, you will pull it out.”

I got a stiff stander of the first order, a little more cream on her hole, a little on my piercer. I gave a push and entered. — “Oho — I can’t bear it — take it out — take it out.” I drove it up to its limits, pushing her close to the bed — grasping her like a vice — and fucking violently, spent — I had barely done so, when her sphincter tightened round my knob, hurting and ejecting it. She staggered to a sofa and laid down. I threw myself on the bed exhausted with excitement, for again I felt almost mad.

Said Sarah, “Well
—
I have not a hole left now that a prick can get up that has not been spent in. I would not have believed it but I’ve done it at last.” She washed her anus, I my tool, then we sat and talked.

She said the first sensation was painful, and after that it was a strange sensation, half pain half pleasure. As before — I knew I had been up it and spent, but as to comparing the sensations of the two orifices I could not. — I couldn’t realize how I had done it — and didn’t recollect any sensation at all. I felt again surprised and shocked with myself, and that’s all. This of course was foolish, but my narrative is true.

I took a dislike to Sarah for permitting it and for a time avoided her. When we next met, she told me she was all right. “There is nothing in it after all — I’ve heard several women say so, you may do it again if you wish, I’d like to try again now without fear.” But I didn’t wish, I had had enough of the fantasy.

Indeed I liked to think of what I’d done less and less — felt angry with myself. — Spite of my philosophy my act revolted me. But Sarah often referred to it, at first hinted that she’d like to try again, then openly asked me to do it, and was surprised that I refused. “Ask Mr. F
^**
z
^*
r,” said I — meaning her husband. “No, I’ll never be a whore to him,” she replied [singular life, and notions.]