My Secret Life (82 page)

Sometimes now she was left alone for a week or two or longer by her friend, tho he idolized her, — but he couldn’t help his absence. Then the strong promptings of her carnality placed her in great temptation. Frigging did not satisfy her, her cunt yearned irresistably for the male. My talk, she averred, so excited her, that when she thought of that alone it led to her giving way to her passions. That I don’t believe, tho it might have added fuel to the flames. — She took a fancy after a time to another man. This came about through going to see a dashing gay woman whom she’d not seen since she’d been in keeping. The man therefore was a mere chance acquaintance. He was known in Paphian circles for his physical perfections, and the desire for his very big prick really was the reason of her wishing once to see him, and then for a time her taking to him. But more of this hereafter.

I afterwards witnessed him using his tool. It added greatly to her pleasure to know that I was a spectator. The deed done, he gone away, she came to me, her eyes humid with recent pleasures, still lustful. We fucked, and talked. The idea of my prick being in the avenue his had quitted increased the pleasure of us both when fucking — hers I think more even than mine. Soon after our eroticism entered on even a higher phase of luxuriousness.

When she had thoroughly made the acquaintance of the man with a bigger prick than that of her lover — the biggest she had ever known, she said — she described it rapturously and the delight she felt when it was up her: The gentleman with whom she lived as already said poked her twice daily when there, her poor lover fucked her frequently, I gave her my doodle then once a week, besides gamahuching her which I never failed to do, and in addition to all this she frigged herself nearly every day. — Yet all this did not give her an excess of sexual pleasure, with all her fucking, frigging, and gamahuching, she looked the very picture of health and strength, and had both.

She had met as said this man by chance, was told about him, and it was the idea of his size which affected her sensuous imagination. — He was, she found in the long run, a mean hound, who enjoyed her lovely body yet was often half fucked out before he had her, and scarcely made her the most trifling presents. The size of his prick had made him notorious among gay women, she discovered at last, and he got more cunt than he wanted for nothing. I often advised her to cut him, for she told me all about her affairs with him; not that I preached morality but saw that it was a pity to risk an evidently good chance of being settled comfortably for life. Yet if she wanted another man — if variety was essential, “Have him but beware,” I used to say.

I expressed one day a wish to see his pego of which she was always talking. She was proud at that, her eyes glistened voluptuously as she told me of the arrangements for my view. She had long liked telling her letches to me — a willing listener who had no canting objections. — Tho I cautioned her to take care not to be caught by her protector. — She used to reply — “What have I to live for except it. — Philip and I have no society, we can’t afford it now — it’s a year since I’ve been to the theatre, — there is nothing but my house, and playing at cards and fucking, to amuse me.” — “My darling, fucking is all in life worth living for, but be prudent.”

The plan of her house then, owing to the way she and her protector occupied the back bed room, did not favour a secret peep at her with the man, who had become knowing and wary in such matters, by passing most of his times with harlots, and she had a difficult task in humbugging him. It was to come off in the parlour. I at a signal was to go downstairs from her bedroom barefooted, peep thro the parlour door left ajar, was not to make the slightest noise, and retire directly the consummation was effected.

On the day, I was waiting expectant in her bedroom, heard footsteps enter the parlour, went down cautiously to the half landing — heard: — “Ahem” — went lower — heard baudy conversation and then, “It’s right up my cunt.” Knowing from that that my opportunity had arrived, I pushed the door slightly more open. — She was on top of him on a sofa, her face hid his from seeing me. — She was kissing him, her chemise was up to her armpits, her bum moved slowly up and down shoving a thick prick up her. “It’s not stiff,” she said angrily. “You’ve fucked before today.” — “I’ve not fucked since yesterday.” — She’d uncunted him as she spoke, and out flopped a huge prick not quite stiff. — There she lay over him thighs wide apart — cunt gaping wide — his prick underneath it. — It was a dodge of hers to gratify my sight, to show me the procreator she was proud of enjoying.

Then she got off, and stood by the side of him, still leaning over and kissing him, to hide his eyes whilst she frigged him. His prick soon stood and a giant it was. She got on him again, impaled herself, and soon by the short twitching shoves of her buttocks, and the movement of his legs (in trowsers) I saw they were spending. — In a minute his moist tool flopped out of her cunt, and I crept upstairs leaving them still belly to belly on the sofa. She had told him that her sister was in the bed room, to which I soon after heard her coming up, and him going down to the kitchen. Oh the voluptuous delight in her lovely face as she laid on the bedside to let me see her cunt, and the delight she had as my prick glided up it softened by his sperm, and her lewed ecstacy as my sperm mixed with his and hers in spasms of maddening pleasure — for now she delighted in this sort of copulation, said it made her feel as if she were being fucked by both of us at once.

This spectacle was repeated afterwards on a bed in the garret — but after a time she sickened of him and saw him no more. — She however still had her large-pricked poor lover, who one or two years after died, and as I have narrated what I saw and did after him, shall tell no more. She had at various times with string measured the length and circumferences of both of these pricks. The way to get proper measurements was carefully discussed by us. I have the lengths and circumferences of the two pricks, and of Phil’s all measured when stiff, round the stem half way down — and from the centre of the tip to where the prick joins the belly.

The biggest of the two pricks did not however nearly come up in size, to that titanic cunt stretcher which Sarah F
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r enabled me to see thro the peephole at the baudy house some years ago. Tho I had no measure of that, it was much larger than any I have ever yet seen — there could be no mistake about it — [I have seen a couple of hundred pricks, just before their owners put them into their women].

This big-pricked man was a coarse looking fellow tho stalwart and handsome. He would stop at the house and feed at her expense, and scarcely give her a present, yet he was not a poor man, but a man of business as she knew, and as I took the trouble to ascertain. H
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told me soon all about him. I was certainly the only confidant she could have in this letch. — He was reckless enough to let a youth from his place of business bring him letters whilst at H.’s and she got acquainted with the lad.

H
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told me one day that she was in bed with big-tool, when the youth (then only sixteen years old) brought him a letter. They both lewed, began chaffing the boy, asked if he’d ever seen a woman naked, and pulled the bed clothes down so as to show her naked to her waist. She permitted, nay liked the lark, and admitted to me she hadn’t then seen the prick of a lad of. that age, stiff or limp. — “Show her your cock and she’ll show you her cunt,” said big-tool. The boy, glowing with lust approached the bed. H. opened her thighs invitingly, his master got up and pulled the lad’s cock out of his trowsers as stiff as a horn, she opened her thighs wider, the man gave the lad’s prick one or two frigs, and the sperm squirted over H.’s thighs. — This, as I happened to be there, was told me the day after it occurred.

This frigging of the boy led as may be supposed to some erotic episodes. — As a matter of course it stirred H.’s lust, she had never been fucked by one so young, and before long his thin prick and her cunt were introduced to each other. The narrative of a consequent episode in which I was a participator, as written at the time, is reserved from the flames.

A little before this H.’s protector was as I’d guessed in money difficulties. She told him that an old kind friend wanted to visit her, that money must be got somehow or they must part, and he consented to me — and only me — visiting her. She had told him I was too old to poke, and only gamahuched her. Of course I’ve only her word for that. I never saw him or he me. He was very unhappy about it, but sooner than let her again be gay he would consent to almost anything. — Money and other circumstances, however, prevented my seeing her more frequently, tho I went with greater ease of mind. She was also not under such anxiety, and we had our frolics with increased pleasure — for her lascivious delights with me were greater than ever.

Later on she told me her protector was getting as erotic as I was, tho he was a very much younger man. My impression is that she taught him. — Sometimes it was: — “What do you think? Phil wanted me to do so and so with him?” — or: “We poked in this attitude the other day.” — Or: “He likes hearing how formerly I’ve been poked,” and so on. — Then she and I had great pleasure in doing the same things together.

One day I wished we had a looking glass to see ourselves in when fucking. I had told her of the glasses at French houses. — She, excepting in a cheval glass, had never seen herself reflected in copulation, and wished she could. — I offered to buy one, but what would Philip say? “He’d be delighted, we often wish for one when I tell him I’ve heard of such things, but he’s hard up just now — he knows you are the only man who visits me.” — He didn’t know of her lovers. — Then I paid for a looking glass which she got. It was nearly as long as her bed, was placed against the wall, the bed nearly close to it, and henceforth we could see our every movement.

I shall never forget the day the glass came. We put it up together at the right level, directly we’d done so we rapidly stripped start naked, mounted the bed, and fucked contemplating ourselves, and that afternoon not a drop of sperm was left in my balls. I gamahuched her, and she frigged herself as well, looking in the glass. At my next visit I heard that Phil had done the same, that night after night they couldn’t sleep for the rutting state the glass put them in, so hung a curtain over the glass when they wished to excite themselves no more. To see H. frigging herself then was indeed a great treat. Her delight was to make me kneel on the bed naked facing the glass, with my stiff one which she held in one hand, whilst she frigged herself with the other, looking in the glass all the time. It was to me a delight — for her form and face were lovely, — to see her in the venereal spasm — an exquisite sight. — Unfortunately however, the bed was so placed in the room then, that I could not see either bed or reflection from the only door available for peeping, hence the fucking exhibitions were always given in other rooms.

Early in June, one of the most singular liaisons in my career occurred to me — I have thought other events singular, and perhaps they were as much so but they don’t seem like this, for I am at an age which made this unexpected. I don’t look my age, I am told, nor do I feel my age, and can oftentimes tail an appetizing woman three times in an hour and a half — yet it’s nearly forty years since first I fucked a woman.

I was at an afternoon in some grounds near London, and there was a widow with her only daughter who was born in India, her father a colonel. They were in comfortable circumstances, in good society, but there were whispers about the daughter, that her marriage had been broken off mysteriously, that she was a little frisky, had been at a theatre alone with a gentleman, was a bad temper, gave her mother much trouble, — and more obscurely hinted — was fond of a doodle on the sly. I thought nothing about it, it not concerning us, yet it had seemed to me there had been a look in her eye when I conversed with her, which was indicative of desire. I’d found she’d laugh at risky conversation if without frank impropriety, and would egg a man on by questions of assumed ignorance, — then suddenly, “Oh! you’re really too bad,” and she’d leave — tho her eye gave no signs of her being shocked. Edith H
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n, — not her name tho phonetically resembling it — knows a lot, some men said, and they suggested the possibility of her having been fucked in India.

She was handsome, well grown, and about seven or eight and twenty, had dark eyes and hair, and a remarkably beautiful foot and ankle, which she displayed as liberally as society permitted. — Tho I didn’t then meet her frequently, there was something about her which made my pego tingle when I did. Her eyes used to fix on mine with a stare which gradually softened, and then her face flushed and she turned her eyes away — I thought nothing of that tho at times I wondered if she’d been fucked — dismissing the idea at once.

There had been a cold collation and champagne galore, the company were distributed afterwards, mostly sitting about the grounds, when wanting to piddle, I sought a retired comer and passed a spot where surrounded by shrubs was a swing, and she all alone just swinging herself as high as she could. She swung forward just as I approached her, and her white petticoats floating up showed much of her calves. My voluptuous instincts blazed up at the sight of the legs and pretty feet, I bowed my head and tried to look under, involuntarily saying, — “Oh! what a lovely pair, shouldn’t I like ...” — then I broke off recollecting our positions. She tried to stop the swing, I watching till she alighted. All this did not occupy a minute. — She’d taken champagne freely I think — I too much, and with a swelling prick was risky. — She perhaps excited by wine, had at the moment a warmish cunt. — “What would you like?” — said she laughing and looking full at me. — “To have seen a little more.” — “Ohoo! oh!” — said she — then both laughed heartily. — “What are you laughing at?” — “At what I should have liked.” — “Oh! what a strange man you are, you speak riddles.” — “Don’t you understand?” — “No.” — “You do” — and we looked in each other’s eyes again. She looked voluptuous, I fancied.