My Secret Life (28 page)

If intending to have a poke I waited for a girl known by sight, and then often could not find her, then I saw those so dressed that I could not offer them a small sum. On other nights I went up to the girl with the fattest legs, and made advances. In this way I shagged many of all sorts and sizes, many of them poor creatures, others plump, fine, strong, healthy women, whom I was surprised took the small sum for their professional exertions. The end of this promiscuity was that again I took the clap, which laid me up some weeks, and made it again needful to open my piss-pipe by surgical tubes.

Then I was timid, used French letters, and took to carrying them in my purse again, but always hated them. Often my tool stiff as a boring-iron would shrink directly the wet gut touched it, and compelled me to frig up to near the crisis before I could insert it in the skin. Sometimes it would not stiffen completely till up the woman. I used to drop my tool in a state of partial rigidity into the letter, then thumb it slowly up the lady’s orifice; there the warmth, the clip, the buttocks wagging, and the look at the belly and thighs between which I was working brought it to the proper stiffness. I usually had the ladies at the side of the bed, when wearing these condoms.

Sometimes my passions overcame my prudence, and a fair lady for her favours got her price. Then I was filled with regrets, and had to content myself with a feel for some time, or wait days till I could afford the full gratification of my senses with another woman, because I had not the money. Then I fell again on my five shilling offers. About this cuntfeeling there was something very peculiar in me: unless I liked the look of the woman I did not like to feel her cunt, and after I had been groping used to spit on my fingers, and rub them dry, and the smell off of them on to my handkerchief.

Some little time after my clap however I came into a better income through the death of a relative. It was small, but made a difference to me of great importance. I spent it all on myself, that is to say on cunt, and although some of my country relatives must have known I had come into the property, those most interested in knowing it I believe never did. I now longed for nice women whom I could talk and spend the money with. The rapid business-like fucking in the baudy houses was not to my taste, I had scarcely gone to the Argyle Rooms, then not many years opened, for fear that my taste for nicety of manner and something more than mere cunt might lead me into an expenditure still far beyond my means.

 

I knew an elderly couple who were childless and lived in a nice little house in the suburbs with a long garden in front, and one at the back as well; they were in comfortable but moderate circumstances, and kept two servants only. Every year they went to the seaside, taking one servant with them, and leaving the other at home to look after the house; and usually some one to take charge of it with her. This year they asked if I would, when I passed the house (as I frequently did), call in and see if all was going properly, for the housemaid left in charge was young, and her sister, a married woman, usually only stopped the night with her, leaving early each morning for work in which she was daily engaged. She was an upholstress.

I knew the servant whose name was Jane. She had been with the family some months. I often dined at the house; and once or twice when she had opened the garden-gate (always locked at nightfall) to let me out, I had kissed her, and tipped her shillings. She was a shortish, fat-bummed wench. Not long before this time I gave her bum such a hard pinch one night, that she cried out. A day or two afterwards I said, “Was it not black and blue?” “I don’t know.” “Let me see.” “It’s like your imperance,” she replied.

After that I used to ask her when I got the chance, to let me see if the finger-marks were there, at which she would blush a little, and turn away her head, but nothing further had come of the liberty.

When I called at the house I had no intention about the girl, as far as I can recollect. She opened the door, and heard my errand and questions. Yes all was right. Did her sister come and sleep there? Yes. Was she there now? No, she would not be there till nearly dark. I stepped inside, for then I thought of larking with her. “I am tired, and will rest a little,” and stepped into the parlour, sat down on a sofa, began questioning her about a lot of trifles, and in doing so thought of the pinch I had given her bum, and my cock began to tingle. Then I thought she was alone in the house. Oh! if she would let me fuck her! — has she been broached? — she is nice and plump. Curiosity increased my lust, and unpremeditatingly I began the approaches for the attack, though I only meant a little amatory chaffing.

“Is it black and blue yet, Jenny?” She did not for the instant seem to recollect, for she asked me innocently enough, “What sir?” “Your bum where I pinched it.” She laughed, checked herself, coloured up, and said, “Oh! don’t begin that nonsense sir.” I went on chaffing. “How I should like to have pinched it under your clothes, — but no I would sooner kiss it than pinch it.” “Oh! if you’re agoing on like that I’ll go to the kitchen.” I stood before the door, and stopped her going out. “Now give me a kiss.” I caught and kissed her, then gave a lot, and got a return from her. “I won’t, — Lor there then, — what a one you are,” and so on. “Well, Jane one kiss, and you may afterwards kiss whenever you want, you know.” And so she seemed to think, for I got her to sit down on the sofa, and we gossiped and kissed at intervals, till my cock got unruly. “What a fat bum you have,” said I. Then she attempted to rise, I pulled her back, we went on gossiping, and kissing at intervals. She got quite interested in my talk as I sat with one arm round her waist, and another on her thigh, outside her clothes of course.

So for a while; but I was approaching another stage, was getting randy, and reckless. “Lord how I’d like to be in bed with you, to feel that fat bum of yours, to feel your c — u — n — t,” spelling it, “to f — u — c — k it I’d give a five pound note,” said I in a burst, and stooping, got my hand up her clothes on to her thigh. She gave a howl. “Oh! I say now, — what a shame! — oh! you beast.” I shoved her back on the sofa upsetting her, got my lips on her thighs, and kissed them. Then she escaped me, and breathing hard, stood up looking at me after her struggle. “Oh! I wouldn’t have believed it,” said she panting with the exertion. What a lot of women I have heard say they would not have believed it, when I first made a snatch at their privates. I suppose they say what they mean.

Begging her pardon, “I could not help it,” I said, “you are so pretty and nice, — I’d give ten pounds to be in bed with you an hour.” “Well I’m sure.” “Think what it is not to have a woman you like.” “Well I’m sure, sir, you are a married man, — you’ve got a partner, and ought to know better, — missus would not have asked you to call if she’d a know’d you,
—
she thinks there’s no gent like you,
—
what would she say if I tell her?” “But you won’t my dear.” “She thinks you a perfect gentleman, and most unlucky,” the girl went on to say, “and she is sorry for you too.”

“Oh! she does not know all, but you’ve heard, have you Jenny?” I tried to make her sit on the sofa again, and promising that I would not forget myself any more, she did so. We kissed and made it up, and talking I soon relapsed into baudiness.

The quarrelsome life I led with the oldish woman at home was, I knew, well understood by the old couple. “I lead a miserable life,” said I. “Oh! yes I know all about it,” said the girl, “master and missus often talk about you, — but you’re very gay, ain’t you?” Then I told this girl a lot. “Think my dear what it is not even to sleep with a woman for two months, — for two months we have never slept together,
—
I’ve never seen her undress,
—
never touched her flesh, — you know what people marry for, — I want a woman, — you know what I mean don’t you, — every night what am I to do? — I love laying belly to belly naked with a nice woman, and taking my pleasure with her, — so of course I can’t keep from having other women at times, — you don’t know what an awful thing it is to have a stiff prick, and not a nice woman to relieve it.” She gave me a push, got up, and made for the door at the word prick. Again I stopped her. She had sat staring at me with her mouth wide open, without saying a word, all the time I had been telling the baudy narrative of domestic trouble, as if she were quite stupefied by my plain language, until she suddenly jumped up, and made for the door without saying a word.

I was as quick as she, caught her, put my back against the door, and would not let her go, but could not get her to look me in the face, I had so upset her. There we stood, I begging her to sit down, and promising not to talk so again, she saying, “Now let me go, — let me out.” “No, — sit down.” “No.” But in about a quarter of an hour she did, and then again I told her of my trouble, avoided all straightfoward allusions to my wanting other women, but hinted at it enough. She got interested, and asked me no end of questions. “Lord, why don’t you separate? — if I quarrel with my husband so, I’m sure I will, — I tell my young man so.” “Oh! you have a sweetheart.” Yes she had, — a grocer’s shopman, — he lived at Brighton, came up third class to see her every fortnight, starting early, and going back late. She was flattered by my enquiries, told me all about him and herself, their intention to get married in a year; and I sat and listened with one hand outside her clothes on her thigh, and thinking how I could best manage to get into her.

“He goes with women,” said I, to make her jealous. “He don’t I’m sure, — if he did, and I found out, I’d tear his eyes out, and break off with him, though he says Brighton is a dreadful place for them hussies.” She got quite excited at the idea. “When he comes up, you and he enjoy yourselves, — his hands have been where mine have to-night.” “No he hasn‘t, — if he dared I’d — now I don’t like this talk, — you said you wouldn’t, — leave me alone, — you keep breaking your word.” Another little scuffle, a kiss, and a promise. “Why should you not enjoy yourselves? — who would know anything about it but yourselves, — it’s so delicious to feel yourselves naked in each other’s arms, your bellies close together.” “Get away now,” — and she tried to get up. I got my hand up her clothes, pulled her on to the sofa, and holding her down with one hand, pressed myself sideways on her, and kissed her, pulling out my prick with the other.

Then she cried out so loudly that I was alarmed, for the window at the back was open. “Hush, — be quiet, — there, — I’ve touched your cunt.” I pulled one of her hands on to my prick. “Oh! for shame Jane you touched my prick.” Again she got up, and made for the door; so did I, and stood there with my back to it, and my poker out in front of me. “Come and open the door my dear, and you will run against this.” She turned her head away, and would not look. “Why don’t you come on? — if you run up against it, it won’t hurt you, — it’s soft though it’s stiff.” “I’ll write to my mistress tonight,” she said, and turned away. “Do my pet, — tell her how stiff it was, and the old lady will want to see it when she comes back.” “It’s disgraceful.” “No, my dear, it’s to be proud of, — why you’re looking at it, I can see.”

Then she turned quite away. “That’s right dear, — now I can see where I pinched your bum, — it was not far from your little quim, — oh! if that could talk, it would ask to be introduced to this, — it’s hot, isn’t it Jenny?” I said, this and a lot more. She had walked to the back window, and stood looking into the garden whilst I rattled on. “You’re laughing Jenny.” “It’s a story,” said she, “I’m insulted,” — and turned round with a stem face. I shook my tooley-wagger. “How ill-tempered you look, — come and feel this, and you’ll be sweet-tempered at once.” She turned round to the window again.

“I
will
write my missus, — that I
will.”
“Do dear.” “My sister will be here directly.” “You said she comes at dusk, — it won’t be dark for three hours.” “I wish you would go, — what will people say if they know you’re here?” “Don’t be uneasy, — they will know no more than they know of your doings with your young man.” “There is nothing to know about, but what is quite proper.”

So we stood. She looking out of the window, and turning round from time to time. I standing by the door with my prick out; then I approached her quietly. “Feel it Jenny, — take pity on it.” “Oh! for God’s sake, sir, what are you doing?” She turned, and pushed me back, then retreated herself, keeping her face to the window as she stepped backwards. “Oh! there is Miss and Mrs. Brown walking in the next garden.” Sure enough there were two ladies there; they could have seen everything close to the window over the low wall which separated the gardens; and had they been looking, must have seen Jane, me, and my prick. “Oh! if they have seen, they will tell my missus, and she’ll tell my young man, and I shall be ruined, — oh! — oh! — oh!” she said sinking back into an armchair with a flood of tears, — half funk and shock, and perhaps randiness, causing it.

I was alarmed. “Oh!” she sobbed, “if they saw you, — hoh! — ho! — and it was no fault of mine, — you’re a bad man, — oho! oho!” She sat with her hands to her face, her elbows on her knees. I dropped on my knees imploring her to be quiet, was sure no one had seen me, and tried to kiss her. The position was inviting, I slid my hands up her clothes between her thighs, she took no notice, was evidently in distress, not even conscious of the invasion. A bold push, and my fingers touched her cunt. I forgot all the intensity of my enjoyment, at feeling my fingers on the edge of the soft, warm nick. No repulse! I looked up, she sank back in the chair, seemingly unconscious and deadly white.

I withdrew my hand, then came a mental struggle; my first impulse was to get cold water, the next to look at her cunt. I went towards the door, turned round to look at her. Her calves were visible, I ran back, and lifted her clothes, so that I could just see her cunt-hair, gave her thighs a kiss, and then rushed downstairs, got water, and as I entered the room she was recovering. She knew nothing, or next to nothing of what had occurred, nor that my fingers had touched her clitoris, though she had not actually fainted.