Mrs. X...i soon afterwards went upstairs into the bed-room to a gentleman she had come to meet. The Mistress said she should lay down,—she always did after her dinner, and slept for two hours,—she was fuddled, and indeed always was. The mother of the two children and I were alone; from the instant I had spent she had never taken her eyes off me,—never. I recollect the look of her dark eyes and their expression quite well. Hannah snored almost directly. "Let us have a kiss," said the lady to me, "I know you are fond of a well-formed woman,"—and she pulled up her clothes a little. She was sitting on the sofa, my prick rose, I bolted the door, and we fucked whilst the Mistress kept snoring.

Mrs. X... i came down. "What you here still?—what have you been doing?" The mother replied, "He has been smoking, and talking about his dear Sarah." The woman was actually sitting at that very moment with a flood of my sperm up her cunt, for she had neither wiped, nor washed, nor pissed since I had fucked her. Then they talked about X... i's friend who was a clergyman. X... i was the wife of a man who lived with her, but never had her (so she said); she hated him, he had clapped her once.

The mother went out of the room, and came back, Hannah awoke, we had tea, I paid, it was my rule then to pay for everything for the ladies whenever I was in the baudy house parlour. I rose to go, shaking hands with the two ladies. The one whom I had embraced put a bit of paper privately into my hand. Outside the house I read it. "Wait outside," it said. I had been delighted with her pleasure, and did so. She came out, we walked quickly off. "You go to the top of the next street," said she, "and I'll meet you,"—and she went another way, and met me at the top. "I did that in case X... i came out," said she, "let us go and have dinner together." "I have not enough money," said I. "Never mind, I have." We went to the Cafe de P..v...e, and dined; I fucked her again and again on a sofa. She was a charming woman. As we sat on a little sofa dallying after dinner, she said she had not had it for a month, her friend had gone to Germany, where they were going to live, to make arrangements, he would return in a few days; then he, she, and the children were going to Germany with him. "I liked you," said she, "but when I saw what you did before us this afternoon, I could scarcely stop myself, I wanted it so badly,—I dare say I'm in the family way,—oh! don't look,—it's full,—it's dirty,—you shan't." The next instant I was up her again; afterwards she washed, and I saw her cunt. I paid for the dinner partly, she the rest,—I had not a sixpence left. "I'm sorry," I said to her, "that I have no more money." "I did not come here for money," said she. "Let me leave you half a dozen pair of gloves at No. 11." "No, I've lots of gloves." "Then give me a kiss." She stood putting her tongue in my mouth for a minute, then giving me a hearty kiss off she went. I never saw her, nor had her again. Hannah told me she was in Germany, and very happy there.



CHAPTER XV.

Louisa Fisher.—Chaffing.—Her form and fucking.—A supper in bed.—A lascivious night.—Meetings afterwards.—Hannah's legs.—Intruders in the bed-room.—Louisa's voluptuousness.— Enceinte.—Her husband.—Her gentleman friend.—About herself.—Illness.—Mrs. A... y.

I began to meet a Mrs. Fisher at the house very frequently; why she was more frequently there I did not know, and knew it was but of little use asking questions why.

I rather liked this lady. She came usually at one o'clock, and had dinner with Hannah. At three o'clock she went upstairs, was there about two hours, then came down and went away. At times she waited, had tea, and sometimes early supper; this was when she was expecting some one who did not come. I was told confidentially by Hannah it was a rich middle-aged clergyman. The ladies name was Mrs. Louisa Fisher,—her christian name I have written truly, the surname is not. I do this lest she be alive still, and should read somehow this result of my doings with her at J...s Street; she can't mistake if she reads these pages who it was.

After what Hannah had told me I could not help taking a great deal of notice of this lady, and began to lust for her, and of course took to talking to her about Sarah. She was nothing loth, and asked me curious, and at last down right indecent questions about her, but not in smutty language. Hannah when there used to laugh at the questions and my replies; they made my cock stand, which perhaps was what Louisa intended, or it may only have been curiosity without any hidden intention.

I imagine that the erotic incident in the parlour had been told to a good many gay ladies; it certainly had to Louisa Fisher, for one night after that I had been to enquire if Hannah had heard again from Sarah, and Hannah had mentioned Louisa, the following occurred. I had dined early, it was about half-past six, Louisa Fisher was there. "Stand us a glass of wine," said she. "Do," said Hannah. "Do," said another lady. "Have you had dinner Mrs. Fisher?" said I. "No, my friend's not been,—I'm hungry, and Hannah is just going to cook me a chop." I myself fetched a bottle of sherry, the chop came, Louisa ate it, and drank sherry; then I sent for brandy, we drank it mixed with water, and Hannah took some neat. I had began about Sarah as I always did. "Well she was a beautiful model," said Hannah, "but Mrs. X... i's leg was better to my mind." "Look how he's blushing," said Louisa. "Why should I blush?" They both laughed. "Oh! oh! oh! don't I know what you did when you saw her legs." I was then that odd mixture of baudiness and modesty, that I was just as likely to be bold as to be shame-faced, when a woman spoke to me about anything carnal; and now was confused and half-ashamed. "Lord how he's blushing," said Hannah, and she left the room to look after business, she usually put her head out when the street-door opened, if a servant was not in the way on the ground-floor.

Louisa laughed. "I know all bout it," said she, "she was a fine woman." After I had got over the stupid bashfulness which I had for the moment, I went (as usual with me) to the extreme of baudy boldness. "Yes," said I laughing, "I wish it had been spilt in her cunt, instead of on the carpet." "Oh! for shame," said Louisa, "well it was waste, was it not,—it might have made two people happy,—did you really spend without frigging it?" "Yes I did."

I got close to Louisa on the sofa to speak with her about the event, to hear from her lips what had been told her. She said not a word, but my face was close to hers, we looked into each other's eyes for a minute, lust was on both. I put my arm round her, pulled her towards me, and kissed her. She returned it, our lips were glued together. "You've got a fine leg Hannah says." "Does she?" "Yes,—let me see it." "No." "Yes." "You only care about Sarah." I made no reply, but went on kissing letcherously, put one hand down, and going on kissing pulled her clothes up to her knees. She stopped me there. "Oh! how round, how nice, how lovely your leg is." "Now be quiet, Hannah will be in." I ceased looking, but my hand slipped higher up, my fingers were inside the satiny wet lips, and my mouth was glued to hers, as Hannah came back.

We resumed a decent posture. Hannah laughed, "Lord why don't you two go upstairs?" said she, "you want each other,—why don't you go?—the first-floor front's empty." "Come," said I to Louisa pulling her. She rose instantly. Hannah was a really good soul, she liked to make people happy, and to set them fucking; I have seen it in a dozen instances.

Without another word we went upstairs, I threw her on the bedside, pulled up her clothes, and opened a magnificent pair of thighs. "Let's go to bed," said she. "Very well." We both undressed like lightning without a word passing, and stood, she in chemise, I in shirt in a trice. "Let's get in naked." Without reply she drew off her chemise as I pulled off my shirt, and the next minute naked in each other's arms we were fucking in a warm bed, not a word of conversation passing till we had spent, those moments are so soul-absorbing in their lasciviousness.

"Oh! how quick we've been,—lay still." With mutual consent we kept together in fleshy conjunction, I nestled my balls up her, she tightened her cunt to stimulate my shrinking organ. But little stimulus was needed, our spend had only made us want it again, we had scarcely rested ere we recommenced fucking, and again we spent before my prick had uncunted. How lovely, how exquisite is the reminiscence! What equals the pleasure of a man and woman pleased with each other, thrilling with lust, when prick and cunt are joined, and they spend in each other's arms!

Still she would not let me out of her, crossing her limbs over my thighs, drawing me closer to her by her hands, grasping my arse-cheeks, pulling the cheeks almost open, squeezing her cunt up to me, she kept me up her, kissing me, shoving her tongue towards mine, and saying I was a lovely poke, the first baudy words that dropped from her, I rubbing my belly up against hers till my balls almost lay between her fat cunt-lips, swabbing up the oozings of the sperm which ran out from her. And so we lay, kissing, tongue-sucking, and talking the stinging words of love and lust.

Then as repose became a pleasure, and nature severed us. "Oh! my God how wet you have made me," she said, "it's all on the sheet." "Let me feel." I felt on my side, she turned on hers towards me, and threw one leg over my haunch, I placed my hand on her cunt, and felt the sperm, wetting my hand, whilst she grasped my slippery prick. "Feel how wet your prick is," I put my hand there, and every hair on my prick was plastered against my belly; then hand on cunt, and hand on prick we both dozed off.

When I awakened we were still face to face, Louisa asleep with a hand under my balls. I pulled down the clothes to look at her naked body: the gas was burning brightly, I saw splendid breasts; down went my hand to her cunt, I groped it, she awoke, and without a word turned on to her back, and I on to her belly. Whilst couched easily on to that broad belly, and lying between her ample breasts, and steadied by her large thighs, my prick lying down against her gap, kissing and sucking each other's mouths, she glided her hand down, and introduced my pendulous doodle to her randy cunt, and again we fucked. We were mad for it, neither of us uttered a word, till she cried out, "Oh! I'm coming,—my God,—ah!" And then we spent, and went fast asleep again, exhausted with the pleasure.

We were awakened by a knock. "Who's there?" "Hannah." "What do you want?" "Are you going to stop all night?" "No," said I jumping out of bed, "what o'clock is it?" "It's half-past twelve." "Come to bed," said Louisa. In I jumped. "Oh! I'm so hungry," said she, "how I should like some oysters." "So should I,—get up, and we'll go and have some before the shop closes." "No, stop here, Hannah will get them." I agreed, ordered them, and we went on twiddling each other's privates, I recollect the feel of hers at this very moment,—it was like a paste-pot.

I had never seen her person yet. The throwing her on to the bed, and lifting her clothes, her stripping, and jumping into bed had been so rapid, and so randy had both of us been, so anxious to copulate, that I had had no time to look, to contemplate, to enjoy her with my eyesight. Now off went the bed clothes. "Let's look at your cunt." "I won't till I've washed." "No now." I pulled one thigh. "No you dirty dog,—it's not nice." She jumped out of bed, and washed her quim, I my prick, we pissed, and then she threw herself on the bed, and delivered her body up to me. When I had had a quarter of an hour's investigation, she amused herself with looking and pulling my prick about, waiting for our supper.

She was a very fine tall woman, stout and well-built. She said she was twenty-four, but I believe she was thirty. She looked less stout with her clothes on than when she was undressed, for I was much surprised to see how very big she was when naked. She had a very big arm, her thighs and legs were very big as well. Hannah was right about it, the entire legs were grand, but had not the exquisite curves of Sarah Mavis'. Her bum was proportionate to her thighs, her waist was not nearly small enough, her breasts were very large, and beautifully placed, and beautifully solid; her face was large and common-place, she had grey eyes, and lightest auburn hair,—immense in quantity, which was pleasing, though not handsome; it was not a face which in the streets would have attracted me. Her teeth were good.

The hair on her cunt, which was thick-lipped and pouting, was also of a lightish auburn, not by any means a colour to my taste when between the thighs,—so many women's cunts are furnished with that colour. It was thick, longish, soft in feel, large in quantity, and spread half-way up to her navel, and square across her belly to the line of her thighs. I guessed it a thirty year old cunt from that. She was a lovely fucker, and though her cunt was a large one inside and out; the prick was well clipped by it, and kept in when its business was done. There was such room to lie on her between her thighs, and all seemed so well placed to hold a man, that I often thought of her in after time when fucking Sarah, who was the very reverse; who always made me bend my back when fucking, and from whose quim my prick would always slip, unless we both made some effort to retain it after I had spent. Sarah rarely did that, hating the muck. Indeed when Sarah was randy, and wagged her arse as she did violently, all of a sudden just before she spent, she often threw my stiff prick out, which set me off damning and cursing till it was up her again.

The oysters came, and champagne with them, we went to bed again, and sat in chemise and shirt to eat them, said I, "let's have another fuck naked again," for the touch of her large fleshy body to mine had entranced me, and thus we fucked. Another doze. "Ulloh! why it's three o'clock,—I must be off." "Don't go dear,—stop all night." "I can't,—they will think I am ill." "So they will me, but I can't go home, I live too far off,—do stop all night with me, there's a darling," said she.

Instead of a doze we had slept two hours. I at times stopped out all night, and never without saying I intended to do so, but I was tired and sleepy. "Oh! don't go." I put on my shirt. "Well let's have another poke before you go,—the champagne has made me so randy." It had also operated on me. I looked, there were her breasts naked just peeping above the bedclothes, one arm out, the hand under her head, the big white fleshy arm, and the thick sandy brown hair in the armpits. "Come," said she uncovering to her knees. Off went my shirt, and jumping into bed the thighs received me, the voluptuous tongue and round, soft, wet lips glued themselves on to mine again, and heaving gently we were already on the way to another spend. My God what work, what prolonged pleasure!—I forgot Sarah Mavis, and every other woman that night in the arms of Louisa. In baudy amusement we passed the whole night together, and I awakened at ten the next morning with the need of going as fast as I could to shit.

I came back, washed, and we fucked again; then she went as she said to speak to Hannah, whom I knew was a bed at that time; she went I knew to empty herself, but I asked no questions. We had ham and coffee in bed, and more fucking, and about one o'clock we rose and left. My finger must have smelt of cunt I should think for twenty-four hours afterwards, for I had scarcely left Louisa's cunt for eighteen hours; if my prick was not up her my fingers were, when not asleep. Whether spunk was in it or not was all the same, there was no objecting, she gave way to my insistance, and we lay at intervals, she feeling my prick, one of her legs placed over mine, and my hand between her thighs, both of us kissing, tongue-sucking, and scarcely talking. I barely recollect our talk at all,—it was one long baudy night; how many times we fucked I can't say, but it was one of my great exercises. She was tired, and so was I, yet at the last moment, "Let's try it again," I said: "No, I'm sore, and in pain," said she. I sometimes think my prick must have been nearly a dozen times up her, and when ramming stiff for a long time without spending she murmured, "Oh! pray dear leave off."

We fucked in no other fashion than belly to belly, we were naked the whole night, and did nothing outside the bed. When I had paid for the room, supper and breakfast, I only had a few shillings left. I told her. "Never mind," said she, "you shall give me some money some day when I am hard up;" so I paid her nothing then.

I recollect all this distinctly, I always do the incidents of a first night with a female. When I am accustomed to them, the more striking circumstances of our acquaintance remain in my memory. It seems to me that first night's incidents will always remain fresh in my recollection, excepting the number of fucks; I recollect up to about half-a-dozen, then I lose count, there my memory of a first night alone fails me.

I took a liking for Louisa. For nearly a year I had borne with the frigidity of Sarah and her tyranny, "You shall only do it once,—I won't,—I can't wait,—well go," were commands I had got accustomed to obey, had bowed to refusals to allow her secret charms to be looked at time after time, to have my prick ejected before the last injecting throb had been given. I liked the woman, doted on her exquisite form, liked the domesticity of sitting and reading to her, and at the same time just feeling her cunt whilst she laid on the sofa, because I liked her conversation, and because I was at times rewarded by rapturous delight when she abandoned herself body and soul to me, I submitted to all this. But I often rebelled, wished it was otherwise, and made up my mind to leave her for other women, yet did not. I have said all this before.

Now to have a splendidly made woman, who had as much pleasure with me as I had with her, was overwhelming. I forgot Sarah for a time, and longed for the repetition of the baudy, voluptuous hours I had had with the big-armed, big-thighed Louisa, and counted the days till we met again. The instant I set eyes upon her we went upstairs. "Let's get into bed." Then it was a race who undressed the first. "Naked?" "Yes naked." She laughed. "Look at your thing," said she as sitting down she pissed. It was stiff as a poker; the next minute I was laying bedded on that soft fleshy form, and we were spending. What a fat, luscious, and grand cunt she had, though three fingers went up it easily.

Then to my delight she threw up her limbs a little, and crossing them over me pressed her cunt close up to my willing cock-roots; and there we lay, my prick in her, my balls covering her arse-hole; whilst now and then she gripped my prick by muscular cuntal action. When her tongue touched mine, she sometimes ran her lithsome tongue over my teeth, or under my lips, and along my gums,—it was a peculiarity of hers. Then she would glue her wet lips to my wet lips, till our salivas mingled, and ran profusely, stimulating our lusts. Thus we enjoyed each other's bodies, till another fuck dissolved us, and separated our spunk-soaked genitals; and she got up, washed, and went away sometimes in a great hurry.

Soon I grumbled at her going so, and she promised to stop a longer time. "Have a shoulder of mutton," said she, "and onion sauce,—I love it,—Hannah will cook it beautifully,—we will dine at two o'clock, Hannah with us." So it came about; we three sat down to a shoulder. Louisa liked sherry, Hannah brandy; I brought both of fine quality, we gorged, Hannah got slightly tight, observing Louisa and I caressing. "Ah!" said she, "I envy you, you two going to bed." "Why where is Jack?" "Oh! at Windsor, and I shan't have a bit for a month at least." "You'll have to frig yourself," said I joking. "That's better than nothing, but I like the wetting best." Louisa laughed, and used afterwards to say to Hannah, "Has Jack given you a wetting?" Later on some other free ladies took up the joke, and Hannah's "wetting" became a bye-word among the circle of free, mercenary lovers.

Dinner over we hurried upstairs, and we went naked to bed. This was about half-past three; there we lay till eleven o'clock at night, and had an oyster supper in bed. Hannah came up, and ate oysters with us whilst we were in bed together. We ate them out of the shells, and drank champagne, heard happy couples over head, and joked about it, talked about fine limbs, about Sarah's fine legs. "Show us yours Hannah," said Louisa. Hannah without a word cocked one leg up against the bed, and drew up her petticoats to the top of one thigh. "There," said she, "I am not ashamed of it." She had a fine leg, but was a very plain woman. She had shown her leg to me on the day of the leg-show, when I had spent involuntarily, as I have already told. We laughed and praised her leg. "Oh! I'm ashamed of you both," said Hannah dropping her petticoats, laughing, and hurrying out of the room. "I know where his fingers are." She was right, Louisa was sitting up in bed, her legs half up, but covered, I half reclining by the side of her, had thrust my hand under the thighs, and was feeling her cunt.

Hannah left the room. We began fucking, I was on the top operating when the door opened, and a couple showed themselves. We heard a voice crying out, "Not there Maam, it's occupied," and Hannah's sister rushing in ejected a man and woman who had entered before they saw a couple were in the bed. We were too far advanced to mind, I uncunted with the object of closing the door, but the servants having done so, we consumated and dozed off; nor was it till the servant came to say we ought to be careful, that I got up and bolted the door.

Then began a regular meeting once a week, and sometimes twice. Money seemed no object to Louisa, she took what I gave, and never asked for more; once or twice she said, "I want a bonnet dear,—give me one,"—or a new pair of boots, or was hard up for a trifle, and then I gave her all I could; but she had not in a couple of months as much as at the last period of my acquaintance with her, Sarah had from me in three days. But she let me spend money in oysters and champagne suppers, and early dinners, Guardsman Jack who had come back from Windsor, used often to get his fill. I once saw Jack in bed with Hannah, and his scarlet uniform on the chair; he turned himself round with his face to the wall when I entered. He had a thick head of black hair, which is all I saw.

Louisa was a voluptuous poke, and enjoyed the fun as much as a woman could. I think, (but recollection on that point is not clear, when I come to comparison), that she was the nicest woman to lay on I ever had. I was slim, though far from a skeleton, and as I laid naked on her between her large breasts, and between her thighs slightly elevated (for she usually raised her legs, after we had fucked and she had recovered from her pleasure, or when I mounted her for preliminary dalliance), I could scarcely roll off of her without an effort. She had also when her pleasure was increasing, a movement of her whole body, and not of her cunt and backside alone; her breasts quivered with a gentle, perfectly natural motion, and I could feel her flesh moving and rubbing against mine from belly to neck in a way which stirred lust in me from the hair of my head to the soles of my feet; I seemed to feel all over her body at once, and it was most delicious. She had a lovely lasciviousness with her tongue. If my tongue was in her mouth when she spent, she almost sucked it out of me, and the clipping of her cunt after my prick had been relieved from its stiffness I have already mentioned. Her length of arm enabled her to squeeze my balls when in various positions, and no woman ever let me pull her about and look at her cunt, whether it was clean or spunky, more freely than she did. With many it is evidently business, with her it seemed pleasure. She took a delight in all I did, even when I washed her cunt.

(My pleasures however with her were of a simple kind. I had none of the varied erotic pleasures that I now know, the bum-hole and mouth were reserved for the enjoyment of my more matured years.) I should have seen her more frequently, but she would only come at the outside twice a week. No it was impossible,—she lived too far off. I tried to get out of Hannah some knowledge about her, but could not. One day only when fuddled she asked if I had heard she was married. "You mean," said I, "living with a man." "No really married, and been so for years,—oh! don't you tell her,—she'll cut the house if you do."

At the end of perhaps three months I was in bed with her; we had poked, reposed, and were in amorous dalliance, lying face to face, she with one limb over my haunch, so that I could feel her cunt well, she twiddling my somewhat exhausted prick. "I have a surprise for you," she said. "For me,—what?" "I'm in the family way." "The devil,—whose fault is that?" "No one's fault, and perhaps no misfortune,—would you like a child?" "I?—why?" (I had a presentiment of what was coming.) "Because it is yours." "Nonsense." "It is my dear,—I have felt certain of it for some time past, but waited to be quite sure before telling you." "Are you quite sure?" "As certain as I am that I shall die."

I was flabbergasted, felt distressed, as if I had done her some harm that I could not repair, that I had injured her, and should cause her pain and annoyance. It was succeeded by a fear that I should have trouble through it, and expense that I could not afford. Then came the idea that she was selling me, putting a plant on me; that if she were with child it was another man's, not mine. Then came a belief over me that what she said was true, that her pleasure in my embraces was so real, so unlike that of the ordinary gay women, that the result might be due to me. Overwhelmed I lay quiet, confused with the tumultuous thoughts and feelings which rushed through my brain.

At length I said, "Are you sure?" "Yes." "It may be your husband's" (for Hannah's hints came to my mind). "He!—he!—the miserable, contemptible little wretch!—he?" She left off feeling my cock, raised herself on her elbow, and looking at me said, "Who told you I was married?" "No one." "Some one has." "No one,—but I have more than once fancied you were married by the difficulty I have in getting you to come to meet me when I want." "Some one has told you." "No one has." "I'm a damned fool," said she, "I dare say you know more than you say,—what do you know?" "Nothing." "It's your child, and no one else's,—I'm sorry I have told you,—say nothing more about it,"—and she turned on her back. "Are you married?" "Of course not, or I should not be in bed with you." "Some man is keeping you perhaps." "No one is keeping me either," said she.

I could not keep quiet, so much was I excited, and thought of the man she met at J... s Street still, although she tried to hide that. I did not like to suggest it, for I had found out that any reference to him annoyed her, and I always avoided giving pain to any woman I had connection with; but the matter seemed so grave that I could not keep what was on my mind to myself, and as delicately as I could suggested him.

"It's not," said she fiercely, "it can't be." "Why?" "You are the only man who has spent in me for years." "What," said I incredulously, "no one had you?" "No one has spent in me but you for years,—no one." I was staggered, but returned to the subject. "Nonsense Louisa,—how can you tell?" "I've told you why." "Why if you've a husband, and if you have a friend who meets you, how can you be sure it's me?"

"I have no husband, and it's no friend,—if you don't believe it, I tell you on my oath, on my body and soul, and may I go to hell when I die, if it be not true, that no man has spent in me for years but you." "No man has fucked you!—what do they do then?" "That's no concern of yours,—but no man's stuff has ever been up me for quite two years but yours,—I'm not going to say any more about it,—my business is not yours,—nobody has asked you to keep the child,—you need not trouble yourself,—I'm sorry I told you." She turned her bum to me, and began to cry; I tried to comfort her.

"That will do," said she, "give me some oysters and champagne." I ordered them, then wanted another fuck. "No you shan't have it,"—nor would she let me. The oysters and champagne made her more complaisant, but she was angry and snappish. After another fuck she got up and left me before her usual time, and I went away wondering at this, and at the number of women who had been, or who said they had been with child by me.

Soon after she was loving, sad, and serious, was sorry I would not have liked the child, for it was certainly mine, but she would get rid of it. Then in the familiarity of a lewd man and woman naked in bed together, she told me a lot about herself.

She was married, she lived with him and her mother, but loathed her husband. "He,—he the miserable wretch,—he touch me, the dirty beast!—I'd sooner die than let him," she cried, "if he wanted even,—but he does not want me,—what he wants he gets elsewhere, not with me," said she with strong emphasis. If she left him, she would have to support her mother alone,—perhaps it would come to that some day,—she was quite prepared for it. They ate and drank together when he was at home, but had not slept together for years. He kept the house comfortably enough,—perhaps he would so long as she took trouble about it, for he did not care so long as he got his food good. Yes she did meet a friend. It got her luxuries she could not get any other way; her husband knew she got money elsewhere, for she dressed in a way he must know his money would not enable her to do. He asked no questions, and did not care nor heed, nor seem to notice. That was pretty well all I ever got out of her. Hannah drunk, and talking to me one day said he was a very little man, and a brewer's clerk, "a hop o' my thumb," she called him. "Never mind what my friend does," said Louisa, "I've known him some years,—he does something of course, he does not meet me for nothing, but I tell you he has never spent in me,—no man has spent in me for years but you." "Do you frig your friend?" "If you like, anything else you like, it's all the same,—I'm not going to say; but neither he nor any one else has spent in me,—no man's seed has been up me for two years or more. The first night you had me I spent first, you spent after; the next time as your seed touched me, I felt a shiver run right through me, and I got in the family way at that very instant, I'm sure." Louisa was particular in her language, she never said "spunk,"—thought it a nasty word,—she always said "seed," or "stuff" when she spoke of my sperm,—Sarah called it "muck".

Though I had had such lots of women, and had heard of most things, yet simple, straightforward fucking had engrossed me, I rarely had out-of-the-way lusts and letches, and I never thought to ask if her friend buggered or sucked her, or if she sucked him, or what little amusements they were up to. At all events she must have satisfied him some way, for he had known her she said some years. A man was likely to stick to Louisa, for she was a magnificent piece of flesh, from her neck to her ankles.

So I believed Louisa, and felt interested in her belly beginning to swell, but did not want the young one, or the troubles of paternity, or to get her into trouble; besides I had no affection for her, though I liked fucking her better and better.

Louisa then was away ill; I saw her again when her womb was cleared out, and we took to fucking as usual. One day in baudy vagaries we had been posturing, and she straddled across my face, bringing her cunt right on to my mouth, and my nose to her bum, she had been asking me if I ever kissed Sarah in any way but the straight one. She began kissing my pega as she lay on the top of me, I kissed her buttocks, but took no hint, if any were intended. She was very heavy, and I noticed for the first time a strongish odour from her cunt which annoyed me; afterwards I used often to fancy she had a strong smell about her quim, and was fool enough to tell her so, which offended her? but we made it up.

After a little time she began asking me if I had not forgotten Sarah,—did I love her as much?—did I long to have her again?—did she (Louisa) not give me as much pleasure as Sarah? I had then got over my desolation a little, and only thought of Sarah and her exquisite form with a sigh, was annoyed that she had not written to me, and I began to confess to myself, that for fucking, Sarah was not to be compared with Louisa. Then I began to wonder at my having been so infatuated, and let it out to Louisa one night. She said she wished I would keep her,—three pounds a week, and she would make it do, and so on; and I began to think seriously about the matter, for the expenses at the baudy house were nearly that amount; and although my delicate senses had began to revolt at the strong smell of Louisa, yet her voluptuousness was enticing, and was making me actually constant to her. I had quite left off my Mulatto, Brighton Bessie, and one or two others of my queens.

Louisa was again taken ill,—the consequence of her miscarriage, and of the measures taken to bring that on I was told. She got worse and worse, and was in great danger; she never wrote to me, but often to Hannah, and her letters which I saw always referred to me affectionately; above all she wanted to know what ladies I had at J...s Street. Hannah winking at me used to say, "I'd like to know where you put it away now,—it's put somewhere." I had taken no women to that house; but laughing said I was chaste. Hannah did not believe that, so I said I frigged myself. "You don't spill it about in that way," said she, "let me feel it,"—and she put her hand outside my clothes on to my tool. "Oho!—oho!—oho!" said she, for I stiffened. Then she brought me her accounts to cast up, and when it was done, "I shall take a nap," said she, "you go now, for I expect Mrs. ——— and a strange lady" (I had looked in casually that morning),—and getting on to the bed she laid down showing her legs liberally, and looking at me all the time. "Good bye," I said, and left; but have thought since that Hannah wanted me to have her. She never before or since looked at me in that way, nor behaved with such freedom when we were alone.

Her bed was as I have I think already told, in the front-parlour in J...s Street, and in an alcove, as many beds are in French hotels and houses; and when the curtains were drawn across it, the bed was entirely hidden.

And then when without a woman at my command, and with a frequent need for one, another piece of luck befell me. The way had been paved for it before Louisa was so ill.



CHAPTER XVI.

A friend's maid-servant.—Jenny.—Initial familiarity.—A bum pinched.—Jenny communicative.—Her young man.—An attempt, a failure, a faint, a look, and a sniff.— Restoratives.

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 impertance," 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 a going 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 Jenny 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 all 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 undressed,—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 straighforward allusion to my wanting other women, but hinted 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 it 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 Jenny 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 to-night," said she, 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 stern face. I shook my tooleywagger. "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 Jenny, 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!" said she sinking back into an arm-chair 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 in the intensity of my enjoyment, at feeling my fingers on the edge of the soft, warm nick. No repulse I 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 occured, nor that my fingers had touched her clitoris, though she had not actually fainted.

"I wish I had some brandy," she said, "I feel so weak." "Is there any in the side-board?" "No." "I'll go and get a little." A few hundred feet from the house down a side-door, was a public-house. As I was going, "You will let me in again?" I said. "If you promise not to touch me." She looked so pale that I fetched brandy, but put the street-door key in my pocket as I went. "If she don't let me in," I thought, "she shan't have the key,—and what will she tell her sister about that?" It was a key almost as big as a shovel; she never noticed that I had taken it away. She thought by her dodge that she had got rid of me, and told me so afterwards.

I brought back the brandy and knocked. "Let me in." "I won't." "Then you shan't have the street-door key." This was spoken to each other through the closed door. A pause, then the door opened. "You are coming Jenny." We went downstairs into the kitchen, she had brandy and water, and so had I. It was a hot day, the pump-water was deliriously cool, I made hers as strong as she would take it,—it was an instinct of mine. She got her colour back, and became talkative, we talked about her fainting, but she tried to avoid talking about it, and did not want me to refer to what had led to it. I did, and was delighted to think that it was owing to what is called "exposing my person."

"I don't think the ladies saw it, so you need not have been so frightened Jenny,—but you saw it, did you not?" No reply. "I saw you looking at it." "It's a story." "Why did you faint?" "I always feel faint if I am startled." "What startled you?" "Nothing." "You saw it, and you put your hand over it to hide it, and you touched it." "It's a story,—I wish you'd go." "You ungrateful little devil, when I've just fetched you brandy." "It's through you that I felt ill." "Why?" No reply. "Don't be foolish,—it was for fear that the ladies should have seen my prick so near you,—now look at it,"—and I pulled it out, it was not stiff. "It was twice the size when you saw it,—feel it, and it will soon be bigger."

The girl rose saying she would go and remain in the forecourt till her sister came, if I did not leave, but I prevented her going out of the kitchen. She began to cry again, and had a little more brandy and water. My talk took its old channel.

"Do you know how long you were fainting?" "I didn't faint, but only a minute or so." "Do you know what I did?" She was sitting down, then got upright, looked at me full in the face, her eyes almost starting out of her head. "What did you do!—what?—what?—what?" She spoke hurriedly, anxiously, in an agitated manner. "I threw up your clothes, kissed your cunt, and felt it."

"It's a lie,—it's a lie." "It's true,—and the hair is short, and darker than the hair of your head,—and your thighs are so white,—and your garters are made of blue cloth,—and I felt it, the dear little split,—how I wish my belly had been up against it I—what a lovely smell it has!" (putting my fingers to my nose).

"Oho!—oho!—oho!" said she bursting into tears, "what a shame to take liberties with a poor girl when she can't help herself,—oho!—oho!—you must be a bad man,—Missus had no business to send you to look after me, as if she could not trust me,—she don't know what sort of man you are,—and a gentleman too,—oho!—and married too,—it's a shame,—oho! —oho! I don't believe you though,—oho—o—o." And when I told her again the colour and the make of her garters, she nearly howled. "You mean man to do such a thing when I was ill."

I kissed her, she let me, but went on blubbering. "I've a good mind to tell my young man." "That will be foolish, because you and I mean to have more pleasure than we have had,—and he'll never be any the wiser but if you tell him, he'll think it's your fault."

This had occupied some hours, it was getting dark, but it seemed only as if I had been there some minutes, so deliriously exciting are lascivious acts and words. The charm of talking baudily to a woman for the first time, is such, that hours fly away just like minutes.

I got her on to my lap and kissed her. She was so feeble that I put my hands up her clothes nearly to her knees before she repulsed them. Then I feared her sister coming home; she promised to hide the brandy, and we parted. She kissed me, and let me feel to her knees to induce me to go. "Oh! for God's sake sir, do go before my sister comes." My last words were. "Mind you've felt my cock, and I've felt your cunt." "Pray go"—and I departed, leaving her tearful, excited, and in a state of exhaustion which seemed to me unaccountable.

Probably had I persisted a little longer I should have had her, such was the lassitude into which she had fallen; but I felt that I had made progress, and went home rejoicing, and forming plans for the future. When I had had some food, and thought over the matter, I came to the conclusion that I had been a fool in leaving her, and that had I pushed matters more determinate at the last moment, I should have certainly fucked her before I had left. I was mad with myself when I reflected on that, and the opportunity lost, which might not occur again.

Jenny had not fainted quite, but though unable to speak, resist, or indeed move, she must have been partially conscious. I think this from what I know of her nature afterwards.



CHAPTER XVII.

When are women most lewd.—Garters, money, and promises.— About my servant.—The neckerchief.—Armpits felt.—Warm hints.—Lewd suggestions.—Baudy language.—Tickling.— "Fanny Hill".—Garters tried.—Red fingers.—Struggle, and escape.—Locked out.—I leave.—Baudy predictions, and verifications.

I have a confused recollection of thinking myself the next day an ass, for having missed a good opportunity of spermatizing a fresh cunt; yet for some reason or another it must have been three days before I went to try my luck again.

I had about this time of my life began to frame intentions, and calculate my actions towards women; although still mostly ruled by impulse and opportunity in love matters. My philosophy was owing to experience, and also in a degree to my friend the Major, to whom some years before I had confided my having commissioned a French woman to get me a virgin. He was older, poorer, and more dissolute than ever, "He is the baudiest old rascal that ever I heard tell a story," was the remark of a man at our Club one night. Ask him to dinner in a quiet way by himself, give him unlimited wine, and he would in an hour or two begin his confidential advice in the amatory line, and in a wonderful manner tell of his own adventures, and give reasons why he did this or that, why he succeeded with this woman, or missed that girl, in a way as amusing, and instructive to a young listener, as could be imagined.

"If you want to get over a girl," he would say, "never flurry her till her belly's full of meat and wine; let the grub work. As long as she is worth fucking, it's sure to make a woman randy at some time. If she is not twenty-five she'll be randy directly her belly is filled,—then go at her. If she's thirty, give her half-an-hour. If she's thirty-five let her digest an hour, she won't feel the warmth of the dinner in her cunt till then. Then she'll want to piss, and directly after that she'll be ready for you without her knowing it. But don't flurry your young un,—talk a little quiet smut whilst feeding, just to make her laugh and think of baudy things; then when she has left table, get at her. But it's well," the old Major would say, "to leave a woman alone in a room for a few minutes after she has dined, perhaps then she will let slip a fart or two, perhaps she'll piss,—she'll be all the better for the wind and water being out. A woman's cunt doesn't get piss-proud like a man's prick you know, they're differently made from us my boy,—but show any one of them your prick as soon as you can, it's a great persuader. Once they have seen it they can't forget it, it will keep in their minds. And a baudy book, they won't ever look at till you've fucked them!—oh! won't they!—they would at church if you left them alone with it." And so the Major instructed us.

About three days afterwards, taking a pair of garters, two small showy neckerchiefs, and Fanny Hill with me, I knocked at the door. "Oh! you!" said she colouring up. "Yes,—is everything right?" "Yes! all right, what should be the matter sir?" She stood at the street-door holding it open, though I had entered the hall. I turned, closed the door, and caught hold of her.

"Now none of that pray sir, you insulted me enough last time." "I could not help it, you're so lovely, it's your fault,—forgive me, and I won't do so any more,—here is a sovereign, take it, kiss me, and make it up." "I don't want your money," said she sulkily. "Take it, I give it with real pleasure,—what I had the other day was worth double."

"I won't be paid for your rudeness, if that's what you mean." "Lord my dear I've no occasion to pay for that, I took it without pay,—I wish I could get what I told you yesterday,—I'd give ten times the sum." "You are going on again." "Don't be foolish,—take it, buy a pair of silk stockings." "Your plump legs would look so nice in them,"—and I forced her to put the money into her pocket.

Then I got her to the parlour, to sit down, to allow me to kiss her, and then to talk about me and my "Missus," as she called her, a subject which seemed to excite her, for she began asking me question after question, and listened to all I said with breathless attention about my daily habits, rows, and fast doings. Once I stopped at some question. "I won't tell you that." "Oh! do,—do." "No it's curious." "Do,—do." It was about a pretty servant-girl whom I had noticed in my house. "It will offend you if I do." "No it won't." "Well give me a kiss then."

She kissed me. She had stood up a moment, now she sat down again by me on the sofa. I went on with my story, every now and then I stopped till she kissed me, it came to a kiss every minute, as I sat with my arm round her waist, talking.

Said I, "It was a servant whom my wife turned out at a day's notice,—a pretty girl,—I had taken to kissing her, and then I nudged her somewhere you know. One night when she opened the door, I saw by the light that my wife was in our bed-room. 'Is your Mistress upstairs?' 'Yes sir.' 'And the cook?' 'Yes.' Then I closed with her. 'Don't sir, Missus will hear.' I hugged her closer, shoved her up against the wall, got my hand on to her cunt, felt her, and gave her half-a-sovereign. How delicious it was to get the fingers on to the wet nick of that pretty girl, and say, 'How I should like to fuck that Mary.'" I told it in words like that to Jenny, and she sat listening. At the word "fuck" up she got.

"You are a going on rude again." "You asked me." "Not for that." "But that's what I had to tell, what you kissed me to tell." "I didn't think you would say rude things." "Sit down, and I'll tell you without rude words." And so I did, telling all over again with additions, but instead of saying "cunt," "fuck," and so on, said, "I got my hand you know where,"—"and then she let me you know what,"—"she was frightened to let me do, you guess what I wanted."

"Luckily though she foolishly told her fellow-servant, she did not say who had been feeling her. That sneak told my wife, who told me about it, or all she knew, and said she could not keep such an improper girl in the house as that. 'But the other servant may have told a lie to spite her.' 'Perhaps, but I'll turn her out too',—and so she did, both left."

Thus I talked to Jenny till I expect her quim was hot enough; then said I, "Here is a pretty neckerchief,—put it on." "Oh! how pretty." "I won't give it you unless you put it on." She went to the glass and unbuttoned the top of her dress, which was made to button on the front. I saw her white fat bosom, she threw the kerchief round the neck, and tried to push it down the back. "Let me put it down,—it's difficult." She let me. "You are not unbuttoned enough,—it's too tight." She undid another button, I pushed down the kerchief, and releasing my hand as I stood at the back of her, put it over her shoulder, and down in front, pushing it well under her left breast. "Oh! what a lovely breast you have,—let me kiss it."

A shriek, a scuffle; In the scuffle I burst off a button or two, which exposed her breast, and getting my hand on to one of the globes began feeling and kissing it. Then I slid my hand further down, and under her armpit. "Oh! what a shame,—don't,—I don't like it." "How lovely,—kiss, kiss,—oh! Jenny what a lot of hair I can feel under here." "Oh!—screach,—screach,—oh! don't tickle me,—oh!—oh!,"—and she crouched as women do who can't bear tickling. I saw my advantage. "Are you ticklish?" "Yes,—oh!—(screach,—screach),—oh! leave off."

Instead of leaving off I tickled harder than ever. She got my hand out, but I closed on her, tickling her under her arm, pinching her sides, and got her into such a state of excitement, that directly I touched her she screached with wild laughter; the very idea of being touched made her shiver. We were on the sofa, she yelling struggling whilst I pinched her, she trying to get away from me, but fruitlessly; I buried my face in her breasts which were now largely exposed, and she fell back I with my face on her, and holding her tight. Then I put one hand down, feeling outside for her notch; that stopped her screaching, and she pushed me off as she got up.

I soothed her, begged pardon, spoke of the hair in her armpits, wondered if it was the same colour that it was lower down. Now she shammed anger, boxed my ears, and we make it up. I produced the garters. "Oh! what a lovely pair." "They're yours if you let me put them on." "I won't." "Let me put on halfway up." "No." "Just above the ankle." "No, my stockings are dirty." "Never mind." "No." Then she made an excuse, said she must see to something, and left the room. I thought she was going to piddle.

She came back. I found afterwards she had been out to lace up her boots, they were untidy. It was coquettishness, female instinct, for she wanted the garters, and meant to let me try them on, though refusing. "Where do you garter, about knee?" "I shan't tell you." "I've seen,—let me put them on below the knees." "No." "Then I'll give them to another woman who will let me." "I don't care." I threw the garters on to the table after some fruitless attempts. I was getting awfully lewd with our conversation.

"Do you like reading?" "Yes." "Pictures?" "Yes." "I've a curious book here." "What is it?" I took the book out. "The Adventures of Fanny Hill" "Who was she?" "A gay lady,—it tells how she was seduced, how she had lots of lovers, was caught in bed with men,—would you like to read it?" "I should." "We will read it together,—but look at the pictures,"—this the fourth or fifth time in my life I have tried this manoeuvre with women.

I opened the book at a picture of a plump, leering, lecherous-looking woman squatting, and pissing on the floor, and holding a dark-red, black-haired, thick-lipped cunt open with her fingers. All sorts of little baudy sketches were round the margin of the picture. The early editions of Fanny Hill had that frontispiece.

She was flabbergasted, silent. Then she burst out laughing, stopped and said, "What a nasty book,—such books ought to be burnt." "I like them, they're so funny." I turned over a page. "Look, here is she with a boy who sold her watercresses, is not his prick a big one?" She looked on silently, I heard her breathing hard. I turned over picture after picture. Suddenly she knocked the book out of my hand to the other side of the room. "I won't see such things," said she. "Won't you look at it by yourself?" "If you leave it here I'll burn it." "No you won't, you'll take it to bed with you." There I left the book lying, it was open and the frontispiece showing. "Look at her legs," said I, for we could see the picture as we sat on the sofa; and I began to kiss and tickle her again.

She shrieked, laughed, got away, and rushed to the door. I brought her back, desisted from tickling and lewd talking, though I was getting randier than ever. "Now have the garters,—let me put one round the leg, just to see how it looks,—just half-way up the calf." After much persuasion, after pulling up my trowsers, and showing how a garter looked round my calf, she partly consented. "Promise me you won't tickle me." I promised everything.

I dropped on one knee, she sat on the sofa. "Put one foot on my leg." She put one foot there, and carefully raised her clothes an inch or two above the boot-top. "A little higher." She raised it holding her petticoats tight round the leg, and I slipped the garter round it. "It's too loose, raise a little more." "I won't any higher,—I can see how it looks." "Won't they look nice when they are above the knee? and won't your young man be pleased when he sees them there." "My young man won't see them any more than you will." "Let me slip on the other." The same process, the same care on her part. She bestowed all her care on the limb I was gartering, lest I should slip the garter higher up. The remainder of her clothes were loose round her other leg. Then I pushed my hand up her clothes and herself back on the sofa, relinquishing the leg I was gartering.

Rapidly my hand felt thighs, hair, cunt, How wet! What is this which catches my fingers?—what is it they are gliding between? With a yell she pushed me away, and got up as I withdrew my fingers. She had a napkin on, my fingers were stained red. "Oh, you beast," said she bursting into tears. I caught hold of her, and began to tickle her; she pushed me violently away, and escaping, rushed downstairs, slammed the kitchen-door in my face, and locked herself in. I have been accustomed to this behaviour on similar occasions.

I stood outside begging pardon, talking baudiness, I tried to burst open the door, and could not. I was not fond of poorliness in women, had a keen nose, and oftentimes could smell a woman if poorly, even with her clothes down; how it was I did not smell her, considering how near my nose had been to her split and her breasts, I can't say, but suppose randiness overcame my other senses. I played with my prick which was in an inflammatory state, feeling it made me much randier, I called through the door how I wanted to fuck her, how my prick was bursting, how I would frig myself if she did not let me. "What a hard-hearted girl,—I'll give you ten pounds to let me,—who will know it, but you and me?" and a lot more; but it was of no use, and at length I went upstairs, determining to wait, and thinking that in time she might follow me.

On the sofa I sat thinking of what I had done. There lay one garter, I took it up, and rolled it round my pego. I rubbed the tip with it, thinking it might be a spell. I took up Fanny Hill, got more excitedly reading the book, looking at its salacious pictures, and feeling my prick at the same time. Then the sense ol pleasure got beyond control, and laying down the book on the floor just beneath me, where I could see a baudy picture, I turned on my side on the sofa, and frigged till a shower of spunk shot out.

Then down I went. The door was still locked, my senses were calmed, but I talked baudy, and offered her money without a reply; growing tired, I bawled out, "I'm going,—you will let me in a day or two, and get the ten pounds towards the new shop,—you won't be so unkind when I come again." "I'll take good care never to let you in," said she. They were the only words I could get out of her. I went upstairs, took a slip of paper, and wrote on it, "I have wrapped the garter round my prick, it is a charm. Directly you put it on I shall know, for my prick will stiffen,—you will put it on I am sure; and directly my prick stiffens, your cunt will long to have it up it, even if I am miles away. You will put the garter on, for you can't help doing so,—I'm sure to fuck you, neither you nor I could avoid it if we would. Why should we deny ourselves the pleasure,—no one will know it, and you will be ten pounds the richer." I wrote that or something nearly like it, and charmed with my own wit, rubbed the garter over the top of my prick till I left the smell on it, then laid it on the table over the paper I had written, and went away, taking Fanny Hill with me.

It is a positive fact, that about two hours afterwards I had a violent randy throbbing in my prick, and found out later on that just at that very time she had put that garter on.

(And now for the complete understanding of what follows, it must be stated that the house was in plan nearly like that which I inhabited when I had my beautiful servant Mary. Kitchens in the basement, two parlours with folding doors between them, nearly always open; and rooms back and front over the parlours; and that my absent friend did with those rooms whilst absent at the seaside, what was not unusual with people of their class in those days, lock most of them up, leaving only sufficient for the servant, or caretaker, to inhabit.)



CHAPTER XVIII.

"Fanny Hill" sent to Jenny.—My next visit.—Thunder, lightning, sherry, and lust.—A chase round a table.—The money taken.—Tickling and micturating.—A search for "Fanny Hill".—A chase upstairs.—In the bed-room.—Thunder, funk, and lewdness.—Intimidation and coaxing.—Over and under.—A rapid spender.—Virginity doubtful.—Fears, tears, and fucking.

I waited a few days to ensure her poorliness being over. I had not left her Fanny Hill, but why I cannot tell, for I knew how baudy books excited a woman. The night before my next attack, I wrapped up the book, directed it to her, gave a boy sixpence to deliver it, hid myself by a lilac which was in the front-garden close to the road, and saw the boy give it to her, and go off quickly as I had told him. It was just dark, and too dark inside the passage of the house to see; for Jenny stepped outside the house so as to get light, and stripped off the envelope. I saw also that she opened the book, closed it, looked rapidly on both sides, then stepped inside, and closed the door. I expect that her cunt got hot enough that night. I saw her sister who slept with her nightly, going through the front-garden soon afterwards, and Jenny open the door for her. I had then moved off to a safe distance, the other side of the road.

Jenny was fond of finery, and I had heard the old lady of the house declaiming about it. Her pleasure at the showy neckerchief and garters was great, so I bought a pretty broach, and filling my purse with sovereigns determined to have her at any cost, for my letch for her had got violent. The next day I had a good luncheon, went to the house just after her dinnertime, and took with me a bottle of sherry. I recollect the morning well. It was a sultry day, reeking with moisture; it had been thundering, the clouds were dark and threatening, the air charged with electricity. Such a day makes all creation randy, and you may see every monkey at the Zoological Gardens frigging or fucking. I was resolute with lustful heat, the girl was I expected under the same influence, and taking her as I did after a lazy meal, everything was propitious to me. "How shall I get in?—if I knock she may not open; and if she sees me go up the front-garden she won't open." But I had to try, so walked up to the door, and gave one single loud tradesman's knock.

There was a little porch and a shelter over the street-door. Standing flat up against the door, so that I might be hidden from her sight if peeping, I heard an upper window open. She looked out, but where I was she could not see me. There was delay, so again I knocked, and soon the door began to open, I pushed it and stepped in. The front-shutters on the ground-floor to my wonder were closed.

"Hoh! sir—you," said Jenny amazed, "what do you want?" I pushed the door to, and caught hold of her. "I've come to have a chat and a kiss." She struggled, but I got her tight, and kissed as a randy man then kisses a woman, it is a magnetizing thing. "Oh! there it is again," she cried as a loud thunder-clap was heard; "oh! let me go,—oh! it do frighten me so."

"Where are you going?" "Oh I into the parlour,—I've closed the shutters." The girl was in a panic, and did not know what she said. The parlour-door was open, the room nearly dark, which suited me. She went just in, and then turned round to go out, but I pulled her to the sofa. A flash of lightning showed even in the darkened room, the girl cowered and hid her face with her hands. I took her round the waist. "Shut your eyes, and lean your head against me." Mechanically she did, she was utterly unnerved. I felt down with my right hand the form of her thighs and haunches through her clothes. My prick began to stand, pulling it out, and taking her near hand I put it round my prick just as the thunder roared. She kept her hand unconsciously on it for a time, then with a start took it away and jumped up. "Oh! it's wicked," said she, "when God Almighty is so angry,"—and just as she got to the door a terrific flash made her turn round again. I caught her, and sitting down on a chair pulled her on to my knee; she hid at once her face on my shoulder in terror.

Coaxing and soothing, and exciting her, in her fear she listened at times twitching and oh-ing. I was sorry I had touched her cunt the other day I said. "Oh! now don't." "Feel my prick again,—do dear." "Let me go,—you've no business here." Another flash came, I put my hand up her clothes, the tip of my fingers just touched her quim. She struggled and got away, and in doing so upset the chair which fell down and broke. "Oh! now what will my Missus say!" said she. Then a screech, and she got to the other side of the table.

This went on a little longer, a gleam of sunshine came through the shutters. Then she opened one shutter, and said if I did not go she would open the window and call out. The light showed my pego, stiff, red-tipped and ready. "Look what your feeling has done for this Jenny," said I shaking my tooleywag at her.

But her resoluteness daunted me, so I promised not to do so again. "Here is some sherry that I was taking home to taste,—let's have a glass,—it will do both of us good after this thunder,—you look white, and as if you wanted a glass." I had got out of her on a previous day that she liked sherry. "I'll go and get you a glass," said she. "No you shan't,—you will lock the door," said I,—I know that was in her mind. No she would not. "We will go together then."

We did, and returning to the parlour under my most solemn promise of good behaviour, down she sat, and we began drinking sherry. One glass,—two, then another she swallowed. "No I dare not, it will get into my head,—no more." "Nonsense,—after your fright it will do you good." "Well half a glass." "Isn't it nice Jenny?" "It is." "Does not your sweetheart give it you?" "At Christmas, but only one glass." The sherry began to work. "Only another half-glass,"—and I poured it out nearly full. Soon after I got up after filling my own, and standing before her again filled up hers which she had sipped without her seeing me. "Finish your glass dear." "No I can't,—it's making me so hot." "Just another half-glass." "I won't." But she began to chatter and told me again all about her young man, of their intending to open a grocer's shop when they had two hundred pounds; that he had saved a certain sum, and when he had a little more his father was to put fifty pounds to it. She also had put money in the savings bank. I got closer to her, and asked for a kiss. "Well I'll kiss you if you promise not to be rude again." A kiss and a promise. She was one of the simplest and most open girls I have ever met with, and once a half-feeling of remorse came over me about my intentions, whilst she was talking on quite innocently about her future; but my randy prick soon stopped that.

"What nonsense dear, your young man won't know that I have felt your thighs, and you my thing, nor any one else what we do,—I have thought of nothing else since I touched you,—kiss;—now let me do it again,—just feel it,—only where my hand's been before,—I swear I won't put my hand up higher, just above your garters,—have you got those garters on?" "No." "Oh! you have." "Well I have." "Let me just see." "I shan't." "I'll give you a sovereign to let me." "Shan't." I pulled out the sovereign, put it on the table and spite of her resistance pulled up her clothes just high enough to see one garter; then clutching her round the waist I pushed my hands up, and touched a well-developed clitoris. She struggled, but I kept my hand there, kissed her rapturously, and frigged her; her cap fell off in her struggle. "Oh I—can't—bear—it—now—sir;—I don't—oh!—like it,—oh!" Then with a violent effort she got my hand away, but I held her fast to me.

"What a lovely smell your cunt has," said I putting the fingers just withdrawn from her thighs up to my nose. I had always noticed that nothing helps to make a woman more randy than that action; it seems to overwhelm them with modest confusion; I have always done that instinctively to a woman whom I was trying.

"Oh! what a man,—oh! let me pick up my cap." Just then I noticed her hair was short, and remarked it. She was annoyed, her vanity hurt, turned her thoughts entirely. "Yes," she said, "I had a fever two years ago,—-but it's growing again." "Well it has grown enough on your cunt dear,—did it fall off there?" "Oh! what a man!—oh! now what a shame!" My hand was on her thighs again, and I managed another minute's frig, and kept her close to me.

The heat had become excessive. What with struggling, and the excitement, sweat was on both our faces. Her thighs by her crack were as wet as if she had pissed them, her backside began to wriggle with pleasure, which I knew I was giving her; but again with a violent effort she freed herself from me, and as I put my hand to my nose she violently pulled it away. The sherry was upsetting her wisdom.

"There is the sovereign," said I as she stood looking at me, "that will help you." "Don't want it." Seeing where her pocket-hole was I pushed it into it. "Oh! what a lucky sovereign, to lay so close to your cunt Jenny,"—and pushing my hand into her pocket I touched the bottom of her belly through the linen. Again a struggle, a repulse, then she put her hand into her pocket. "You're feeling your cunt Jenny," said I. "O—oh!" said she taking it out quickly, "I was feeling for the money,—I won't have it."

Then I kissed her till the sweat ran off my face on to hers. "Oh! my goodness," said she as it grew darker, "it's going to thunder again." "Have another glass." "No it's gone into my head already." But she took a gulp of mine. "Let's fuck you Jenny dear." "What?" "Fuck." "Shan't." "Oh! you know what I mean." "No I don't, but it's something bad if it's from you." I pulled out my prick, and tried to push her on the sofa. She got away, and then with my prick out I chased her round the table. "Leave off," said she, "a joke's a joke, but this is going too far." She was getting lewd, and was staring at my prick which showed above the table as I chased her. Quick as me she managed to keep just on the side of it opposite to me.

"I'll swear I won't touch you again if you will sit down." "I won't trust you,—you've been swearing all the afternoon." "So help me God I will," said I, and meant it. "Well then not when you are like that." I pushed my prick inside my trowsers, and then she sat down. What a long time this takes to tell, what repetition! but there are not many incidents I recollect more clearly.

Then I took out ten sovereigns, all bright, new ones, laid them on the table, and then the broach. "Do you like that Jenny?" "Yes." "It is for you if you will let me, and those ten sovereigns also." "You are a bad man," said the girl, "and would make me forget myself and be ruined, and without caring a bit,"—and she began rocking her head about, and rolling her body as she sat beside me, and looking at the money. "Who will know?—you won't tell your young man,—I shan't tell my wife,—let me." "I shan't,—never,—never,—never,—never, if it was fifty pounds," said she almost furiously. "He won't find it out." "Yes he would." "Nonsense,—half the servants do it, yet marry,"—and then I told her of some I had who had married. "No,—no,—no," she kept repeating, almost bawling it out, as I told of Mary So-and-so who married a butler, and Sarah So-and-so who married my greengrocer, though I'd fucked them over and over again. "No,—no," looking at the money; then suddenly she took up the broach, and laid it down again.

Before running round the table after her, I had thrown off my coat and waistcoat. "It's so hot, I've a good mind to take off my trowsers," I had said; but I had another motive. She seemed weaker, and was so, for gradually she had got inflamed and lewd by heat, the electrical condition of the atmosphere, the titillation of my finger on her seat of pleasure, and the sight of my stiff penis. She had I expect, got to that weak, yielding, voluptuous condition of mind and body, when a woman knows she is wrong, yet cannot make up her mind to resist. Just then it came into my mind to tickle her; and then followed a scene which is one of the most amusing in my reminiscences.

She shrieked, and wriggled down on to the floor. I tried to mount her there. She kicked, fought, so that though once my prick touched her cunt-wig, I could not keep on the saddle. She forgot all propriety in her fuddled excitement, and whilst screaching from my tickling, repeated incoherently baudy words as I uttered them. "Let me fuck you." "You shan't fuck me." "Let's put it just to your cunt." "You shan't,—you're a blackguard,—oh! don't,—leave me alone,—wee I will feel it, if you'll let me get up,—oh!—he! hi! hi!—for God's sake don't tickle,—hi!—I shall go mad,—you shan't,—oh! don't,—oh I if you don't leave off." "I shall,—I must." "Oh! pray,—you shall if you leave off tickling then,—oh! don't pray,—oh! I shall piddle myself,—he! he!" She was rolling on the floor, her thighs exposed, sometimes backside, sometimes belly upwards with all its trimmings visible. "Oh! it's your fault," and as she spoke actually piddle began to issue. I had my hand on her thigh, and felt and saw it.

Randy as I was I burst out laughing; and she man-aged to get up, began to push in her neckerchief which I had torn out of the front of her dress, and arranged her hair.

"Oh! look at me,—if any one came, what a state I am in," said she looking in the glass, and there she stood her breast heaving, her eyes swollen, her mouth open, and breathing as if she had just run a mile, but attempting nothing, saying nothing further, awaiting my attack. What randy, pleasureable excitement she must have been in, though unconscious of it, whilst only thinking of how to prevent my fucking her against her will.

"You began piddling." "Didn't." "I felt the piddle on my hand." She made no reply, but passed on, and wiped her face. When I said more she merely tossed her head. "Don't be a fool Jenny,—let us,—you want it as bad as me." Then I rattled out my whole baudy vocabulary, "prick," "cunt," "fuck," "spunk," "pleasure," "belly to belly," "my balls over your arse," "let my stiff prick stretch your cunt,"—everything which could excite a woman; to all of which she merely said, "Oho!—oh!" and tossed her head, and never took her staring eyes off me, nor ceased swabbing up her perspiring face, and at the same time looking at my throbbing, rigid cunt-stretcher.

Finding she took to yelling, and even hitting me, I desisted a moment. "Where is the book I sent you last night?" I had till then forgotten it. That opened her mouth. "Have not had a book." "I saw the boy give it you, and you open it." "He didn't." "He did." "I burnt it,—a nasty thing,—I would not let my sister see it." An angry feeling came over me for the moment, for I thought it probable, and should have had difficulty in replacing it. Then came an inspiration to help me,—a man always gets somehow on the right track to get into a woman if he has opportunity. Nature wills it. The woman was made to be fucked, and the sooner for them, the better for them.

"You have not burnt it,—I'll bet it's in your bedroom,—in your box." "It isn't." "I'll swear it's there,—you have been reading it all night,—I'll go up and see." She started as if electrified into life as I made for the door. She got there before me, and stood before me. "You shan't go,—you've no business up there,—I've burnt it,—it's not there." "It's in the kitchen then." "No, I've burnt it," she went on rapidly and confusedly. "I'll go and see," said I pulling her from the door, she screeching out, "No you shan't go up,—that you shan't,—you've no business there." Then I pulled up her clothes to her belly, she got them down, but still she kept her back to the door. I kept pulling her till her cap was off again, and felt sure she was getting weaker and weaker.

Then she turned round suddenly, opened the door, and ran up the stairs rapidly like a lapwing, I after her. Once she turned round, "You shan't come up," said she, and tried to push me back; and then again on she went, I following. I stumbled, that gave her a few steps ahead; I sprang up three steps at a time, recovered the lost distance, and just as she got into the bed-room, and slammed the door to, I put my foot in it,—it hurt me much. "Damn it, how you hurt my foot,—I will come in"—and pushing the door my strength prevailed; the door flew open, I saw her running round the bed, and there on the very pillow of the unmade bed lay Fanny Hill, open at one of the pictures. I threw myself across the bed, and clutched the book. She then stood motionless, panting and staring at me, she had clutched at it, and failed just as I caught it. She would have got it, but for having to go round the bed.

I laughed. "Have you not had a treat Jenny dear!" Her face was a picture of confusion. I was stretched half across the bed, and now went right across. Then to escape me she ran away, and had nearly reached the door when throwing myself over the bed again, I grasped her petticoats under her arse, and managed to pull her back. "Damned if I don't fuck you," said I, "by God I'll shove my prick up your cunt if I'm hanged for it,"—and pushing a hand up behind I clasped her naked buttocks. She turned round, I pulled her petticoats clean up, she yelling, struggling, panting, imploring. I dropped on my knees, kissed her belly, and buried my nose between her thighs. The petticoats dropped over my head, her belly kept bumping up against my nose and lips, which were covered with her cunt-moisture.

I rose up, pushed and rolled her against the bed, my hand still up her clothes. "Oh! don't, don't now,—you are a great gentleman they say, and ought to think of a poor girl's ruin,—oh! if it was found out I should be ruined." "It won't darling." I had got my fingers well over the whole slit. "Pray don't,—well I'll kiss you,—there." "Feel it." "Will you let me get up if I do?" "Yes." "There then," and she felt me.

"Oh! I must fuck you." "Oh! pray don't,—oh! let me go now, and I'll let you another day,—I will indeed sir,—oh! you hurt,—don't push your fingers like that." "Kiss me my darling." "You shan't." "There there." Another struggle. "Oh! I can't—be—bear it." Her arse began to twist again, her head sank on my shoulder, her thighs opened; then with a start, "Oh! my God it's lightning (it began to thunder and lighten badly),—oh! I'm so frightened,—oh! don't,—another day,—it's wicked when it's lightning so,—oh! God almighty will strike us dead if you are so wicked,—oh! let me go into the dark,—oh! don't,—I can't—be—bear it." Her arse was shaking with my groping and frigging.

"Now don't be a fool,—damned if I don't murder you if you are not quiet!" "Oh! oh!" I had got her somehow on to the bed, she was helpless; with fear, liquor, and cunt-heat. I threw myself on to her. A feel between thighs reeking with sweat, with her cunt in a lather, with the sweat dropping in great drops from my face, with sweat running down my belly on to my prick and my balls; I shoved. One loud "aha!" and my prick-tip was up against her womb-door. A mighty straight thrust; and the virginity was gone at that one effort.

Right up there with but a shove or two as far as I recollect, and without trouble, my sperm spouted directly my tool rubbed through the wet, warm cunt-muscles. Then I came to my senses; where was I? has she let me, or had I forced her violently.

She laid quietly under me with closed eyes and open mouth, panting; I was upon her, up her, pressing heavily upon her rather than holding her; then thrusting my hands under her fat bottom I recommenced thrusting and fucking. She lay still, in the enjoyment of a lubricated cunt, distended by a stiff, hot prick. Soon she was sensitive to my movements, her cunt constricted, a visible pleasure overtook her, her frame began to quiver, and the soft murmurs of spermatic effusion came from her lips. She spent. On I went driving as if I meant to send my prick into her womb, fell into a half dreaminess, and became conscious of a great wetness on my ballocks; it was her discharge more than mine, the most copious I recollect, excepting from one woman. Then I dropped off on her side. She lay still as death, the thunder rolled over us unheeded by her in the delirious excitement and delight of her first fuck.

She turned on her side slightly, her thighs and backside were naked, she hid her face, and shuddered at the thunder unheeding her nakedness, then buried her face in a pillow, and so we both dozed for a minute or two. Her backside was still naked, when I looked at her in all ways as she lay, and saw traces of sperm on her thighs and chemise. A little lay on the bed, but no trace of red, no signs of a bloody rupture of a virgin cunt. My shirt and drawers were spermed, but had not a trace of blood. The light fell full on her backside, I could see lightish brown hair in the crack of the parting of her buttocks; a smear of shit on her chemise. Her flesh was beautifully white. She had on nice white stockings, and the flashy garters; she dad a tolerable quantity of hair on her quim on the belly side. I sat at the side of the bed, got off boots, trousers, and drawers; then laying down gently inserted my longest finger and delicately began rubbing her clitoris which I could see protruding of a fine crimson color. Then she moved; she was not asleep, but dazed by the fuck, fear of the lightning, the excitement, the heat, and the fumes of the wine combined.

She stared at me, pulled down her clothes, and tears began to run down her cheeks. What a lot of women I have had cry at such times "Don't cry my darling." She turned on to her face, and hid it. For a quarter of an hour, I talked, but she did not answer. I told her she had spent, that I knew she had had pleasure. Then I pushed my fingers up her cunt; still she did not speak, but let me do just what I liked, keeping her eyes shut. So soon as my rammer was up to the mark, up her it went fucking, and again I felt it's stem well wetted. She was a regular streaming spunker.

After that, "I am going downstairs," said she. "I'll come." "No don't." "You only want to piddle." "Yes," said she faintly. "Piddle here,—what will it matter?" "I can't." "I'll go out if you won't bolt the door." "It's no good bolting the door,—you have ruined me." I went outside, closed the door, and heard the rattle in the pot. When I re-entered she was sitting at the side of the bed crying quietly; she did nothing but look at me, but without speaking. "Arrange yourself in case any one comes to the door." "No one will come." "The milkman?" "He will put it down inside the porch." She sat down the picture of despair. Never had I felt more lewd, I was mad that day with lewdness. "Let's feel your cunt," said I. "I have spent in it three times." "I don't care what you do, you may do what you like,—it's of no consequence." I felt up her cunt, she hung her head over my shoulders whilst I paddled my fingers in the wet. "Don't hurt me," said she. "I have not hurt you."

"Yes you have." "Let's look." That roused her. "Oh! no,—no,—no,—you shan't." "Wash your cunt" I fetched the sherry, but she had not washed her cunt. "You should wash it out." "Oh?—oh!" said she, "if I should be with child I shall never be married."

She drank more sherry, and promised to wash. Then I went downstairs, fetched up the broach and the ten sovereigns, and gave them to her. "How shall I say I got it?" "Does he know how much you have saved?" "Yes." "Is it a year's wages?" "Yes,"—and she began to cry again. "What shall I say about the broach?" "That you bought it,—let's lay down and talk." She yielded instantly, I threw up her clothes, she pushed them down. Then I lay feeling her quim, and got out her bubbies, she submitted, laying with her eyes closed, till my rubbing on her clitoris made her sigh. Then up her, I felt her wetting my prick-stem, and shot my sperm into her at that intimation of her pleasure.

It was about seven o'clock, I had been nearly five hours at my amusements, and was tired; but had that day an irrepressable prick. It began to stiffen almost directly it left her cunt. I went down with her to tea, there I pulled her on to my lap, and we began to look at Fanny Hill. I could not get a word out of her, but she looked intently at the pictures. I explained their salacity. "Hold the book dear, and turn over as I tell you." Then I put my fingers on her cunt again. How sensitive she was. "Let's come upstairs." "No," said she, reluctantly, but up we went, and fucked again. Then she groaned, "Oh! pray leave off,—I'm almost dead,—I shall have one of my fainting fits." "Lay still darling, I shall come soon,"—but it was twenty minutes hard grinding before my sperm rose.

Then she laid motionless and white through nervous exhaustion, excitement, and loss of her spermatic liquid, which I kept fetching and fetching in my long grinding. She told me afterwards that she could not tell how often she spent. I had never been randier or stronger, nor enjoyed the first of a woman more.

She was a most extraordinary girl. After the first fuck she was like a well-broken horse; she obeyed me in everything, blushed, was modest, humbled, indifferent, conquered, submissive; but I could get no conversation out of her excepting what I have narrated. She cried every ten minutes, and looked at me. After each fuck she laid with her eyes closed, and mouth open, and turned on her side directly, putting her hand over her quim, and pulling her clothes just over her buttocks. Then after I had recovered and began to talk, a tear would roll down her cheek.

About nine o'clock she said. "Do go, my sister will be here,—and the bed wants making." At the door I put her against the wall and rubbed as well as I could my flabby cock between her cunt-lips. She made no resistance. "We'll fuck again to-morrow Jenny." "I'll never let you again," said she, "for you shan't come in,"—and she shut the door on me with a slam.



CHAPTER XIX.

My soiled shirt.—Jenny's account of herself.—Fucking and funking.—Poor John!—-Of her pudenda.—It's sensitiveness.—Erotic chat.—Startled by a caller.—Her married sister's unsatisfied cunt.—How she prevented having children.—Doubts her husband's fidelity.—Jenny taught the use of a French letter.—Hickery-pickery, and catamenial irregularities.