My Secret Life (48 page)

The girl’s legs opened wide — I gave Betsy the candle, and with the vacant hand pulled open wide the lips of the little cunt, which was of a delicate pink, with the slightest signs of dark hair just on the mons. — Excited as I was, and with a prick throbbing as if it would burst, or spend without a touch, I saw that the cunt had never had anything larger than a finger up it. With an impulse I have always had with hairless cunts, I put my mouth to it, and gave it a little lick. — Such a mouthful of saliva came, and ran out of my mouth at once. — The girl struggled as she felt my tongue, and closed her thighs on my head. The spittle had covered her cunt — I threw off my shirt, pushed Molly straight on the bed, got on it by the side of her, and Betsy got on the other side.

But she would not let me mount her. In vain Betsy coaxed and bullied by turns. — “No — no,” — she had altered her mind. — She was frightened — it would hurt, that great thing would hurt her, — it would make her bleed. — Then she burst into tears and cried. I desisted, Betsy quieted her, for fear of the people of the house, and when she had done she spoke to her in a subdued voice as nearly as possible thus.

“You bloody little fool. I had pricks up me twice as big as that, and longer than his, before I was your age — don’t I get a living by fucking? — Don’t I get silk stockings and dresses by fucking? — How are you going to live? — Who’s going to keep you, I want to know? — What did you come here for? — Didn’t you promise me? — Didn’t you say you’d let him? — Didn’t you say you’d like to be fucked if it was nicer than frigging yourself?”

The girl made no reply, and was confused and shaking. “All right, you may go, and you may get home as you can,” — saying that, she jumped off the bed and rolled up in a bundle the girl’s chemise and petticoat, which were quite new. — “You shan’t have the things I’ve given you, damned if you shall.” Then she came to the bed, violently pulled off from the girl both boots and stockings, and rolled up the stockings with the petticoat. — “Now you may go — put on your dress and your boots, and go, you’re not wanted here, my friend and I will stop all night.”

The girl looked scared out of her senses. “Don’t Betsy, where am I to go to?” — “Go to Hell and buggery, go and shit yourself, I don’t care a bloody fart where you go to.” — The girl blubbered and sobbed out, — “I will then, I will let him.” — “Hold your snivelling, and don’t make that noise. — Someone’s at the door perhaps, — let him do it to you, — if you don’t — go — and you know. — You know what,” — and Betsy, tho slanging in the foulest way (and I have not told a quarter what she said), — did it all in a suppressed voice.

I got on to the bed again. So did Betsy, who helped the girl to her old place. Again the girl said she should be hurt and refused. — “You do it Betsy, with him — you let him do it.” — “Lord,” said Betsy, who had recovered her temper, “he may fuck me till his spunk come up into my mouth if he likes — show her how to do it — let’s have a fuck, my dear,” — and she winked at me — “show her how it’s done, and then she will let you, won’t you Molly” — Molly made no reply.

I knelt between Betsy’s legs naked, with prick stiff, dropped on to her, and put my prick up her — “There, feel, Molly.” — She took hold of the girl’s hand and guided it between our bellies. — “Feel, his prick’s right up — turn a little on the side,” said she to me. — We did, keeping copulated. When her arse was a little turned towards Molly, she threw one thigh high up over my hips so that the girl could see the prick as it lay squeezed into Betsy’s cunt — “Look under, look Molly — look there, nothing but his balls to see, is there.” — The girl put her head down, and curious, touched my balls. — “Oh fuck, fuck, isn’t it lovely my darling,” said Betsy.

We turned flat again and Betsy began fucking and heaving in earnest. She thought she was going to have the treat for she wanted it. — But I slipped my prick out of her cunt, tho I kept on ramming and driving, as if I was going to fuck her backside up to her blade bones. — “Sham,” — I whispered. — Betsy, tho disappointed, took the hint, and we heaved and pushed together, my prick now outside her, and at length screaming out, “Fuck — cunt. — Oh, lovely — ah my spunk’s — coming — oh, push hard — dear — fuck — fuck.” — We both shammed ecstatic pleasure and sunk quietly down, whilst the lass sitting up naked on the bed by our side, looked at us all the while intently.

“Let him now do it to you,” — said Betsy, again coaxing and threatening Molly. — My prick had drooped, just as the girl at last allowed me to get between her thighs — but it sprung up stiff directly I dropped on to her. I worked cunningly, rubbing the tip just outside till I had lodged it. She trembled. I pressed her, and gave a tremendous thrust, and was on the right road. — “Oho — hah — ar,” — she screamed — “You hurt — get off — I won’t let you — har.” — She screeched loudly, and struggled violently. “Hish, you damned howling little bitch,” said Betsy, pushing a pillow right over the girl’s head. I pressed my head on the pillow, the girl’s head was hidden from me, but I could hear her cry. — I had not got up her, was funky about the noise we were making, but in the excitement thought only of my work. — “Hish, they will hear,” were the last words I heard Betsy say. — Then I felt my sperm was coming, and with a violent effort, and grasping the fat little buttocks like a vice — my prick went up her, leaving my sperm all the way up as I entered. I felt the tightening of her hymen round my prick, as it went through it with a cunt-splitting thrust.

It was all over in a minute. Then, “Oh, don’t,” — I heard in muffled tones. — “Have you done her?” — said Betsy. — “Y — hes — y — hes.” — She pulled away the pillow, and there I lay with the little naked one palpitating, but quiet in my arms, my prick up to its roots in her. I kept it there, tho it was shrinking, but I kept on gently thrusting, just enough to keep it half stiff. Then I partially withdrew it, the girl winced and murmured. — “Oh, take it out, you do hurt,” that stiffened me quite. — “I am fucking again. — I shall spend again,” — I said to Betsy, who turned on her side to see better, and in a few minutes of exquisitely prolonged. pleasures — I spermatized again the little virgin quim.

[It is the last time but one or two that I recollect doing so without uncunting, for I am approaching a time of life, which makes a pause between fucks usual with me.]

I rose on my knees, and looked at the girl, who lay quite quiet with her thighs wide open, and her hand over her face. — A bloodier mass of spunk I never saw on a cunt. — Her blood had run down on to the counterpane, and lay in a red rim all around my prick near to its root. I was delighted beyond measure. She bled more than any virginity of her age which I ever yet have had, I think.

Betsy chuckled. — “Well, Moll — you’ve been fucked and no mistake, ain’t you? — How do you like it? — It didn’t hurt you, did it?” — The girl made no reply, but lay with her nice round thighs wide open, her eyes covered with the back of one hand. — Betsy got off the bed and put a towel under Molly’s buttocks and thighs. “You’ve spent enough and you have spoiled the counterpane.” — The girl closed her legs on the towel, turned on one side, and began to cry. Betsy pulled her up and gave me the towel. I wiped my prick, and we all three got up — the girl ceased crying, and then sat on the sofa naked, in front of the fire; and we began drinking again.

Our talk was all about fucking, and we chaffed the former virgin, who sat without answering in a meditative way, seemingly wondering and upset by what had taken place. — At length, looking at Betsy. — “What will mother do if she finds it out?” she said. — “Find it out, how is she to find it out? — You won’t tell her, and she does not look at your cunt, does she?” — “She might find it out.” — “You little fool, she can’t — and if she asks you, tell her to ax your pooper — and come to me, I will get you on to earn your living.” — “She might find it out, tho,” said the girl, giving her head a hard shake, and looking at the fire and as if speaking to herself. — “Say it’s one of the boys in the court who did it, but I’ll tell you what to say tomorrow,” said Bet.

Betsy had had so much liquor that she was very jolly. The girl was on the sofa between us, when Bet put her hand across and began frigging my cock. “Is the next for her?” said she. — “Look Molly, that’s what did it — isn’t it nice? — Tell us how does it feel when it’s up you? — It didn’t hurt you, did it?” — “It hurts me now,” said Molly sullenly. — “Wash it, Molly.” — I would not hear of that, — I wanted her as she was, I liked to see the bloody smears on her belly and thighs, and know her cunt was full of my semen. “Don’t you want to piddle?” — “Yes,” said the girl in a whisper. — “Do it then.” — “I shan’t” — “Why you little fool, you must, we’ll all go to bed directly, and you must before you go to sleep. I’m not going to bed with you, unless you do, you’ll be pissing over us in the night.” — The girl piddled, singing out — “ooooho” in a whisper, as the piddle I suppose touched the torn edges of her virginity.

A Rotterdam saloon. — A flaxen-haired North Hollander.
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The young Englishman.
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An Amsterdam bitch.
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A difficult poke and queer cunt.
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A Dutch sailor ’s whore.
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Polyglot baudiness.
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A pomatum pot. — At B***s**s. — Mrs. W***t*r again. — Acquaintance renewed.
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A shallow cupboard.
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A cough and a fart.
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Four brothels and eight whores.
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A larkish maid-servant.
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Unsuccessful attempts.

 

I went on the continent, whilst the weather was yet cold. I saw the dancing rooms at Rotterdam, and poor and cheap as they were, had two or three of the women at them. I had one, really a fine, tall, beautiful woman with flaxen hair, and who wore large silver ornaments like shields, or saucers, on each of her temples. Her flesh was beautifully white — I was cunt-struck and had her within a few minutes after I had entered the saloon, and felt ashamed of going out of the room with her as other couples did with women. But no one seemed to notice the couples retiring, tho all knew what they left the room for. The ladies returned generally alone, the men after their love-making usually going off by a side door, tho I have seen a man and woman come back into the saloon together, tho every one must have well known what they had been doing upstairs.

I didn’t like her flaxen-haired motte, it was never a colour I liked, yet I hadn’t left the house a quarter of an hour, when I took a fancy to return to the saloon, and there was the North Hollander, dancing with quite a handsome English youth, well dressed, and seemingly not more than eighteen years old. In another minute he had retired with her, and in about ten minutes more I should think, she returned to the dancing room. She had been fucked, and had cunt-washed in that short space of time. The idea (and what a strange idea it seemed to me) of putting my prick into her after the handsome youth, gave me a cock-stand, and just then noticing me, she came smiling and sat herself by the side of me. At once filled with lust I went upstairs with her again. There I began to wonder at myself, and thought I would leave, but a curiosity sprang up in me about his cock, and in German I asked her if she’d been fucked since I had left her half an hour before.

She said “No.” — Then I told her what I had seen, whereat she laughed, and acknowledged it was true. I asked questions about him. His prick was big, “Big, and oh! So stiff.” He would not wait till she took off her clothes, but put her on bed-side, his prick went up, and almost directly he spent. — I was specially curious then. — “Ach Gott — he spent wonderful. — Ach Gott, drowned was mine cunt with it, he, was ein English Man.”

Then I looked at her flaxen-haired slit, and to make sure of its being free from his sperm, made her wash it well out before me, and then I entered it again and enjoyed her, thinking of his prick having rubbed where mine was rubbing. What strange fancies come into my head now! They never used to run so much on the male, but they seem to do so more, since Betsy Johnson got me the sod — I should like to feel another, and one with a big prick I begin to think. And what harm can there be in doing so?

At Amsterdam I went to the best baudy house, which faced one of the canals, and saw a consequential bitch, who began bargaining with me before I had felt her garters even. To satisfy her I gave her about five times what I had given at Rotterdam, and paid down. Then she shammed modesty till I lost my temper, for I know when a regular whore does that, she is a humbug, and has something to hide. I went in my anger to the door to leave, but calling out for the baud to tell her. That brought the bitch to her senses. Taking about ten minutes to do it, she undressed, and a poor, skinny, bony female she was, and one who could not put her thighs wide apart, or who would not, but I think could not. I have had several women who could not, whose thigh bones seemed nearer together than those of most women. — There seemed scarcely room for my hand between this one’s thighs, as I grasped her cunt with my whole hand as I like to do.

The hair of her cunt was dark, and it had two, funny looking, thin, yet fully developed lips. It was an ugly cunt, but for all that I spent in it, and did it standing by the bed side. Unable to get her legs conveniently over my hips, I put them high up, and she then doubled them up till her knees were near her chin. That facilitated my entry, and I fucked her in that attitude. — She said my prick hurt her, which I don’t believe, and then she asked me for a further present, which I refused, and did not go to her again.

There was something about this woman’s cunt, and the closeness of her thighs, which set me thinking and comparing. I have as before said if I recollect rightly, had women whose thighs did not seem to open wide enough, to let me lie comfortably between them, but this woman’s thighs, cunt, and build, seemed to remind me of some woman whom I had had in my youth. At length it occurred to me that she resembled a maid in my mother’s service who was named Harriett. The resemblance came into my mind suddenly, and I recollect that I have said a good deal about her. When however I attempt to go into particulars of resemblance, my memory fails me.