The Sex Diary of a
Vol. 10 Chapter XII
On a metropolitan railway. • A conceited neophyte in harlotry. • Three males on the scent. • The assignation. • Lucy in despair. • Addressed, con-soled, fed, fucked, and compensated. • An assignation not kept. • The hairdresser's servant. • Phoebe dismissed. • Dinner with me. • Atack on pudenda. • Pudenda stockaded. • The second dinner. • Second attack. • An unexpected portcullis. • The citadel taken and inundated. • Festivities therein afterwards.
[My lapses from chastity are fewer, promiscuous fucking I seldom now indulge in — perhaps it is that having one voluptuous lascivious beauty always avail-able, I need no novelty in female form; perhaps it is making me more virtuous — if there be any virtue in refusing to comply with nature's law, in shedding my semen in a ready thirsting cunt. For the last few years abnormal pleasures have suggested themselves, and I have indulged in what I believe are called erotic excesses. In my philosophy nothing which man and woman do with their sexual organs, or any of their organs, is illegitimate, unnatural or imporoper, if they kept it to themselves. — Certain it is that I don't want so much fucking, tho still able to satisfy a nice woman who is new to me twice within the first hour, and can do a third by waiting, but these occasions occur less frequently, are less sought for by me. — Age! ! — My sperm holder needs more time to accumulate its life-giving treasure, and my body takes longer to recuperate. — I have fewer episodes to narrate, less manuscript to eliminate, but little to abbreviate — My fugitive amours being a diminishing quantity.]
Soon after the orgy with H. and Harry (He seen but once afterwards) need of money took me again to try my luck on the stock exchange. I returned at times westwards by the various underground railways. I'd already had one or two adventures in those railways, and believe that thousands of intrigues are hatched there in. — Where are they not hatched? "for cock and cunt will come together," as in my boyhood we often sang in baudy chorus.
It was dark early, when in the middle of November on the railway in a first class carriage, men only in it, a lass looking about sixteen entered, and sat down with great complacency. She stared round at us all, then threw aside her cloak (it was cold) and disclosed her being in an evening dress, very decollete, and with naked arms. She had mittens on, I expect to exhibit one or two showy rings. The dress was of poorish stuff but showily made, and she pulled up bits of lace from her bosom to arrange it, smoothed her dress, turned her rings round, looking at them and ever and anon at us to see if she was admired, with an air of intense satisfaction, and desire to exhibit her clothing. There was no lewed invitation in her eyes, all was excessive vanity. I guessed at a glance that she'd not long been poked, that the rig out was the gift of a lover, that she was going to meet a man, and was not a harlot. What experience comes with age!
Looking at her handsome nascent bubbies and picturing to myself her hidden charms, voluptuous sensations crept through me. I'd not the time to attempt her, nor indeed did it suggest itself to me. "Is this * * * * * station?" she asked. It was, she got out, two gentlemen also got out after her, and I after them, for it was my station. I was going to a shop and saw her ahead when up the street, and soon after one of the gentlemen who had been in our carriage accost her. I stepped to the opposite side of the way, for watching intrigues is so delightful. His essay seemed fruitless for he went off, and directly afterwards the other man I think who had been in the carriage, appeared and walked by her side. Both I suppose had had their cocks set tingling, by the sight of the fresh, slim lass, who was very appetizing.
This man seemed more pressing, for she stopped, turned back, he after her, then she turned back again he with her, and touched her arm I think, for she lifted her shoulder and edged off from him. At length he left her, turned back and walked towards the station — I supposed. — Two disappointed pricks were gone.
Watching them and guessing their object made me think of fucking, and my cock swelled. Keeping her in view, I followed still on the opposite of the way, till she reached a street where the third house down was a large one, or rather two which had been united. I knew it some ten years before when it really was a poor sort of private hotel, but where they asked if you wanted a sitting room as well as a bed room, — always assuming couples were going to stop the night — then let the rooms for money down. — It was in fact half hotel, half baudy house. A chance woman first took me there, and afterwards at intervals I took others there. One night a few years after, the landlord scrutinized me and the lady, then said they were full. On saying that we shouldn't stop long, he said that wouldn't do, the police had been down upon him. If I'd a carpet bag he wouldn't have minded.
As I watched the lass it occurred to me that the house was doing its former business again, and she looking up at the name of the street as if to see if she was right, I concluded it was an assignation there. After watching her for five minutes I crossed, spoke to her, asked if she'd have a glass of wine, said how beautiful she was and so on. "No," she was waiting for a friend she re-plied, and begged I'd leave her, she didn't want to be seen talking to a gentleman. Then she walked up and down the street, I following and persisting, till she asked me the exact time, and on hearing it. — "Oh I'm late, I wish you'd go, what do you keep following me for when I don't want you, I'm waiting for a friend." — I left her, giving a look at the hotel which had an ambiguous aspect, and concluded that her friend was going to take her there, and that she was no harlot tho she'd had the persuader up her.
I was at my shop a long time and was about to go home, when the lass again came into my mind, so went back [I get my chances, I'm sure, by instinct] found her still waiting and looking anxiously up and down the street. I crossed over and asked if her friend had not come. She began to whimper, saying he had not. She was late, she was afraid, and he'd gone away angry, she'd never met him there before, and hoped he wasn't ill etc. etc. Her trouble was opening her mouth and mind, and she no longer was curt and rude to me. "Perhaps you've made a mistake in the hour." — "No I ain't but I was late, here's the letter." Fumbling in her bosom she produced one and was going to show me it, when she thought better. Then after a good deal of talk, advice, and persuasion, she went to a neighbouring public house with me.
She was so cold, she said when she accepted the invitation, and perhaps on that account drank two glasses of port wine very quickly. She recollected my having been in the railway carriage. "Oh if my friend should be waiting now." I told her that it was not likely, that it was a shame to keep such a lovely girl waiting, and so on. Her vanity again showed itself — I have met many women as vain as peacocks, but think this lass was the vainest. Seeing my chance, I laid on the flattery till it was almost laughable, but she swallowed it all. I told her I'd been wild for her, since I had seen her beautiful breasts peeping out of her pretty frock. "Yes, isn't it pretty, he told me to come in it" — saying that she undid her cloak to show me. — "Lovely, exquisite! I'd give a sovereign to see you strip to your waist, I'm sure you're perfect." — "My friend says I am." — She looked half sheepish but delighted. — "Have you any hair in your armpits?" I risked. — She actually colored up, laughed, reflected seemingly, and then. "A little. — Oh! I must go, perhaps he's there now." — "Nonsense he's playing with you." — "It's a shame if he is, I've come such a way, but I must go and see." — Out we both went, I keeping a long way off from her, and she came back in despair. "Let us have another glass of wine at a quieter house, and you shall go and look again in a quarter of an hour."
At length after going out again to look for her friend, she consented. — Quite uncertain what the character of the house now was, and not knowing any other about there, I went to it and asked for a bedroom for the night. — An elderly woman said "yes," but there was a sitting room with it, and she couldn't let me without the other. I hired it, said our baggage would come soon, and found myself alone with the lass in a fairly comfortable room with a fire, which I soon roused to a blaze. — Ordering wine, the landlady said they hadn't a spirit license but would fetch anything. — I paid money down and port wine came.
The lass threw off her cloak and we sat by the fire, I kissed her often. — She liked it, but I took no great liberty then: waiting till the fire had warmed her flesh, and the wine heated her cunt a bit. Then I began to feel hungry, so was she, the landlady said she had nothing in the house but could get us anything, and in twenty minutes there were mutton chops (not so bad) on the table, and soon were in our stomachs. — "Don't you want to piddle?" said I, thinking it quite time to break the ice. — She laughed uneasily and said she did, went to the bedroom and returning. "Have you dried it?" — "Ohoo" she chuckled, "I wonder if my friend's come." — I went to the bedroom, and turned the gas full on there to warm the room, no fire being alight.
I told her it was a waste of time to look for her friend now, he wouldn't expect her to wait an hour and a half for him. "If he is waiting close by, what will he think if he sees you going out of a house? — he'll never speak with you again." That had not occurred to her. — "I ought not to have come here" quoth she sadly. I pulled the sofa to the fire and we sat down, putting the wine upon the mantelpiece.
More talk, another glass of wine, more kisses. — "I'll give you a sovereign to strip to your waist." — "No" — I kissed her breasts. — "What do you meet your friend for?" — After a pause. — "To see him." — "You come to be fucked, you little fibber." — She gave me a push. — "Let me see your legs." — "I shan't." — Seizing her round the waist, and kissing her, I pulled her back and got my hand on to her cunt. How many dozens of times I've done the same thing to women? — She didn't cry or struggle much. "Don't, now don't" was all she said. I now begged her to let us fuck, said I knew she'd come to be fucked, that she liked fucking, and then pulling out my prick — a standard in perfection — I stood in front of her to show it. "Look at it my darling, it's as big as your friend's." — She laughed slightly and looked at it. — Seating myself again I took her round her waist, kissing, begging, talking of fucking. — "Oh! don't — I won't" — I put her unresisting hand round my prick, she kept it there, and in a second I was frigging her whilst still she murmured. — "Oh — don't — I won't." In silence now I frigged till her backside began to writhe under my titillation, whilst still she held my prick, her head laying on my shoulder. I knew that lust was now aiding me.
The delicious enervation of lust was indeed overwhelming her, desire was coursing through her veins. — Who can describe the sensuous delight a woman feels at such a moment, when in the very springtide of sexual wants and almost in her innocence of their gratification. When ready to spend under the gentle titillation of a man's fingers on her clitoris, her cunt in-voluntarily lubricating itself to receive the prick which she holds, he kissing rapturously and murmuring the blazing words of lust and love: Who can describe the voluptuous thrills which annihilate her resistance to him who is begging to let him fuck her, she dying to be fucked whilst yet she says, "No, no — I won't." Such moments must be bliss only excelled by the ecstatic crisis, when they are joined in one and the sperm gushes up her cunt, and cunt grips, sucks, receives, absorbs it, shedding its own to blend with his in the warm avenue to her womb, and make the lubricious compound in which his prick lies wallowing afterwards.
Vanity — the only name I can give her, was in this voluptuous state, when withdrawing my fingers from her cunt, and rising with hornlike prick, gently I pressed her unresisting to the bed room and raised her light form on to the bed's edge. "Don't now — don't" — I threw up her clothes, kissed and smelt between her thighs for an instant only, then her thighs opened more, I felt between the moist lips, and in a second with one lunge was up her cunt. — "Don't — aherr" — was all she said, then laid silent with eyes closed, whilst I stood still, my prick throbbing and enjoying its possession.
Then nature impelled me to the amourous exercise. Gently drawing my prick back to its tip, again I drove it back with force. At each such thrust she sighed, "Aherr." Then her eyes opened full on me. Something in their expression, something in the feel of her little cunt — I can't describe it, — instinct told me her crisis was near. — Rapidly I moved my prick now, the friction told. — "Aherr." Her eyes closed, ripples of pleasure on her belly, quivering of thighs and buttocks, a heave up of her cunt. "Aherr," she sighed. — "Aherr, I'm coming, darling — fuck." — My hot spunk flooded her cunt, and both were in paradise, tranquil, silent. — Ah what a sin to awaken from such bliss! — Why not die away thus into Elysium, cunt and prick still in holy conjunction? — As all must die, let us pray to die fucking, die in the ecstasy of obeying the divine law. — "Increase and multiply." — Many men are fortunate enough to go off in this supreme pleasure.
There is an end of all things. — She opened her eyes, we gazed into each other's voluptuously, prick and cunt still joined. — "Did you like the fuck?" — "Yes." — "Wasn't it delicious?" — "Yes." — "Is my prick bigger than your friend's?" "I can't tell." — So ran our talk till I felt the mucilaginous, soothing liquids running down my balls. Then withdrawing my prick I knelt and saw the evidence of our pleasures, both washed, and went to the sitting room.
Fucking usually opens a woman's mouth, as well as her cunt. — Vanity now was more talkative, it was first about fucking and she revelled in it. Then it was of herself and friend. — I couldn't get her name or address, but her christian name was Lucy. — She'd been cautious about wine. — "Have I hurt my new dress at the back?" — "No, take it off dear and see, and I'll give you a sovereign to strip to your waist." — She hesitated silently. — "No." "Why? I've fucked you and seen your cunt." Then thoughtfully, without a word she stripped slowly to her waist, and afterwards at my request to her chemise — at which she chuckled. — Then on chairs together we sat before the fire feeling each other's genitals. Then I looked long at her cunt, and at length gamahuched her — her first pleasure under the friction of a tongue.
She was sixteen and three months old, well grown, thin, with lovely shaped nascent breasts and but a narrow bum, had a dear little cunt, light chestnut-coloured hair on the motte, and as much only as would cover half a crown. The lips were fattish and unfledged nearly, the clitoris well developed. Really these young cunts are lovely. — I like them best now. — She'd been fucked not two months and about ten times. — Her cunt had all the signs of comparatively recent defloration — I know the look of recent rupture well, having ruptured and seen many. — She'd large hands and feet, was of common breed, only moderately pretty, had lovely teeth, and a large mouth. But there was a delicious fresh look about her, an innocence in her manner and in her fucking, which was most stimulating. Before long I wanted to do her again, she was ready in a minute, and made no objection to anything after I had gamahuched her, but was ready for all. We got into bed and we fucked nearly but not quite naked. — I put this time my tongue in her mouth, her friend had never done that. — "It's nasty tho it's nice" — said she — queer combination of ideas.
Her friend was not a very young man, he'd fucked her twice at first, at other meetings generally but once. He'd first met her in the street. A friend of hers, a widow, let her meet him at her lodgings but he'd never tailed her there. Her parents were poor and knew nothing of her game, the dresses given her she kept at the widow's, she must go there to change them that night; her mother thought she'd gone to a concert with the widow. Here she let slip the name of a place at the extreme end of London. — Her friend gave her a sovereign each time he had her, and said he'd keep her. She always came to meet him at the west end, but didn't know where he took her to, they were various, he had never named that street before. — If she got with child, the widow was to help her — I came to the conclusion that the widow got money by the girl, and was perhaps fucked by the friend as well.
Lots more chat, and then in a hurry she left, as she must get home — I told the landlady there was some blunder about our luggage, and I must go and look after it, so paid for the rooms for the night. — She gravely asked, if letters came where was she to for-ward them to. I went with the lass in a cab to the Rail-way tho it only took four minutes to get there, felt her little cunt all the way and promised two sovereigns if she'd meet me here again. — "I will if I can I'm sure — I like you better than him," — but on the evening named she did not appear.
[Good fortune this year certainly had not forsaken me in respect of virginities.] — Two years ago I moved to another quarter of the town. Between my house and some particular friend's house where I visited some-what frequently, were small streets in one of which lived my hairdresser, whom I employed because he was always at home, and his shop was quiet. The house and those in the street had been private dwellings tho now shops, and the entrance passage which opened to the shop went further on to a door which was the living house entry. — One morning at about ten o'clock going there to have my hair cut, I saw a well grown, young, and remarkably handsome girl, sweeping the passage out. She looked full at me with her beautiful hazel eyes, then dropped them on the floor in a sham modest way as I thought. Struck with her and for the sake of looking at her, I asked if her master was within. — He sometimes was out — "In the cutting room I think, sir" — and again her eyes dropped under my gaze. — She was so neatly dressed and her demeanor so ladylike even, that I thought she must belong to the hair-dresser's family and was not a servant, especially as he was a small tradesman.
A few days after I saw her again sweeping the pas-sage. She looked at me then dropped her eyes as before, which made me suspicious. A modest woman turns her eyes away from a man's, those who drop them ostentatiously on to the ground with a half-stealthy look, I have found to be naturally lustful, to know much on sexual matters, and be cunning. It struck me that this girl was hot cunted and immodest, and as usual I began to think about her hidden charms. Then I thought that a man had probably seen them, and that her sexual aperture had been plugged. Another week or so passed, and as I entered the shop, she was again sweeping the passage. The same look and droop of eye took place, and with my hair was being cut I re-marked, — "What a superior-looking maid that is of yours, sweeping the passage." — "I'll be glad when she's gone," he burst out angrily. — "An idle hussy — we can't get her up in the morning, she does nothing but read novels, and keeps them in her pocket, neglects her work. and drives my wife mad. The month she came for is up, thank God and she's going tonight. We took her with quite a so-so character." A lot more of the same sort, he said. "She's good-looking, she'll get a place or a friend always." — "Yes, sir," said he with a snigger. "She'll get soon what most girls want if she's not had it already, she's going out now to get lodgings. — She's only nineteen and won't come to any good, you may be sure." — He worked himself quite in-to a passion. He was an ugly baldheaded, middle-aged man, but a very good hairdresser.
A letch for her came on strongly. — All the hair-dresser had said pointed to his belief in her having been fucked, or being as he said not better than she ought. No woman who's had a fucking will ever be long with-out having it again. Before tasting it they can resist long and oftentimes successfully, but after the feel of the semi-elastic, warm, smooth, red-tipped prober up their cunts, it so upsets and vanquishes them, they think so of the delicious sensations of the conjunction just as a man does — that at all risk they will have it up them again. — I made sure she'd been fucked from the sly downcast look, and guessed she was sexually hot — I have made mistakes about women having been fucked, but rarely if ever have I been wrong about the voluptuousness of their natures.
I could scarcely wait to have my hair finished, so anxious was I to waylay her when going out, as I have many a servant before — even my own servants. — I feared to miss my chance. — "Shall I trim your whiskers, sir?" "No, next time, I'm in a hurry" — and away I went.
I planted myself in the street just in sight of the shop, and there had plenty of time for reflection. — I thought I was embarking in a risky affair, but my letch overpowered me. I had come to the conclusion that she had gone out whilst my hair was being cut, when I saw her coming in my direction. I moved out of sight round the angle of a street, and in a minute we met. — "I'm sorry to hear you've been dismissed," said I, accosting her. — Astonished she looked. — "Who told you, sir?"
— "Your master." — "Yes, and I'm glad to get away."
— "Where are you going?" — "To get lodging," and she told me where. — "I'll drive you there — I fell in love with you the first time I saw you." — "I don't believe you." — Our eyes met and she laughed, a few minutes more flattery and she got into a cab with me. Driving along I learnt that she supposed she'd soon get a place and so on. — "Why don't you go home?" "Oh, it's a long way off." — "Where?" — She said that she knew where but avoided all information about herself.
The lodging was got. She was to leave the hair-dresser's at half past six, and with little persuasion agreed to dine with me afterwards. We got on very happily, she asked my age, I told her one younger than I was, but she thought me ten years younger than that. No — she wouldn't disappoint me, she'd be glad enough of a dinner, for they almost starved her, and would be in a cab where I'd first spoken to her. I ordered a dinner in a private room at * * * and paid half the cost down, then went home and reflected on my risks, thought she was a determined wench, that such resolute ones often got men into trouble. But I was cunt struck, was in sexual love — my prick stood when I thought of her, and resolved to have her at any risk, thinking that her coldness was assumed, and that she was one who kept in situations if it suited her for a time, and took money and a prick when out of it. — There are many such servants.
At the time agreed on she in the cab was there, we drove to the lodgings, deposited her box, then in an-other cab we drove to the restaurant. In the dark going there I kissed her but she didn't return it, was taciturn, sullen and pushed away my hand which I'd placed on her lap to be near her cunt. In the dining room she re-marked it was very comfortable — sat down, and in an easy way at my request removed her bonnet. She looked lovely. I couldn't quite make her out — was she, or was she not virtuous? — My first instincts about women have generally proved to be right, yet in the intermediate stage of courtship I've frequently hesitated and doubted my beliefs. Women are so capricious and cunning, can so hide their sexual wants and habits, and have nothing to show when lust is on them, as a stiff prick does a man — that unmistakable indicator.
She eat as if she'd never had a good dinner before and drank wine sparingly, but unaccustomed to liquor, took enough to warm her up. We were close together, and so placed that I could touch her legs with mine. I joked about her lovers. — Wouldn't she write to one to keep her company till she got another situation — keep her warm in bed, and so on? — "Why no." — Freer and freer I got and when dinner was removed and wine on table, we sat on the sofa together. I gave and got kisses then. — "Don't you want to piddle, dear." — "Lord, no" — said she startled. — "You do. I'll call the maid." — She didn't say no again, went out with the maid and returned. — "Have you dried it properly?" "Mind your own business" — Her face grew scarlet when I repeated the question and she made no further reply until, — "Now, let me dry it." — "Oh how you do go on." I let the subject drop then, knowing that she was thinking of her cunt, and knew that I was as well. Once set a woman thinking thus and lust begin to ferment and fucking results.
We chatted on, she close as an oyster about her past life, anxious about a situation and the money question — I offering to befriend her and kissing her at intervals. She wasn't ticklish she said, but trying her, in a minute she was wriggling like an eel and begging me to desist. — "Oh — I can't bear it — leave off." — Then I pulled her suddenly back on the sofa, got my hand up her petticoats, and my fingers touched a napkin instead of her cunt. — She had her courses on.
She cried out loudly— "Oh, don't, you beast" and dislodged my hand easily enough, for indeed surprized, I had desisted, not liking women when with their monthlies on. — She was scarlet in face again and un-mistakably angry. The ice was broken and I went on talking about menstruation in medical fashion. — She tossing her head, and not replying — until. "I'm sorry I've offended you — I wouldn't have tried to feel your cunt if I'd known, you'll let me another day." — "I won't, you beast — I must go" — said she rising up.
I went on talking. — It was only nine o'clock and re-fused to let her go, told her that gin and water was good for her etc. etc., till on promise not to do "anything of that sort again," she sat down. Again I kissed, but she was now reserved, so soon after we left. In the cab I felt to her knees spite of her struggles, declaring I'd not go a bit higher which I didn't, not liking to feel a cunt in that condition. Finally exposing my genitals completely I forced her hand on to them. — "Oh you beast" and off her hand went, but I knew she'd think about that when she was alone.
She jumped out of the cab when near her lodgings, wouldn't kiss me, and repulsed me. No, she wouldn't dine with me again. — "I won't, I won't — there — never" and she rushed into the house. — I was sur-prized at this termination, but I'd touched her thighs, she my pego, I knew that lewed thoughts must arise from that, and her cunt heat and moisten when they did. — Such is human nautre male and female. "He wants to fuck me" — must have been in her mind many a time afterwards. Oh that I could for a week change my sex, be a woman, and have their thoughts and sensations.
I waited three days then telegraphed an assignation, but she never came. A second time the same result. I had been too hasty, too impetuous. Then I thought she'd perhaps a sweetheart who was enjoying her, then of the insinuation of the hair dresser, and felt sure that some-one fucked that sweet sylphlike beauty. — Yet she'd been so nice and soft in manner with me at first, — and her eyes had that downcast, half knowing, half modest look which women have when they incline to a man — that I was bewildered. If she has been fucked why couldn't she let me have a pleasure? Perhaps she has got a situation I thought. One evening, randy to my bumhole and risking all, I went to the house and asked if she had left. She had not. "Tell her the gentleman is here about the situation she's been after." The girl appeared, she'd been unwell thro taking cold, couldn't get a situation, thought she'd go home again, and at length agreed to dine with me the next night, on my solemn promise that I'd "have none of those games again." Did she believe my promise?
At the restaurant where we had dined the sofa was more like a seat. With a willing woman we might have fucked on it, but if she were restive I knew that I couldn't succeed. I might also have one of those temporary fits of nervous impotence, which I've had at intervals all my life, and ever shall recollect the words of our maid in my youth, she willing on a sofa in the dark, and I couldn't tail her tho I tried. Then she contemptuously. — "Oh — you're not man enough," — forty long years perhaps have elapsed since that was said, but even now the recollection of it annoys me. So I sought an Italian hotel, and was shown a room with a big sofa, on which the Great Eastern might have laid her bulky arse. I took it, ordered dinner and fine wine, then seeing a door which the waiter locked, "What is that?" — "A bedroom." — "I can't have this room then, I don't want to be listened to." — "All the others are engaged." — He went to his master and returning asked if I should stay late. — "No, but I'll pay for that room," and that was so arranged. I thought it a lucky omen.
The dinner tho the hotel was a poor one was really excellent. The girl whose name was Phoebe — I never had a woman with it before — eat enormously. She'd been half starved, had spent all her money and pawned some underlinen. She cried a little about that. She belched. — "Oh I beg your pardon, sir, I was so empty." — "Never mind we all do that at times, don't blush" — for she did. Sitting together afterwards upon the sofa she was less reserved, and said if she didn't get a situation soon perhaps she'd better go home. She'd barely enough money left to keep her another week. "I'll pay if you'll let me feel it again." — She gave me a push in a half sulky manner. — "Your sweetheart has felt it." — "I haven't one." — She looked me full in the face, and again her eyes drooped in what seemed to me a sham modest manner. Then I thought her a cunning devil.
We were both jolly as far as good food and wine could make us. I talked in veiled lewedness accompanied by kisses and cuddling. — How time flies in these absorbing amusements. "Let me feel it again and there is a sovereign for another week's living, I'd give you five if you'd sleep with me." — "I won't." — "Well take the sovereign." She took it, thanked me and got thoughtful. After a glass more wine I held her tight to me, her head on my shoulder. "Let me feel it — only just above your knees then," — "I won't." — "I've given you a sovereign to let me." — "I'm so poor or I would not have taken it." — "Let me." — With a little struggle my hand was on her cunt, my fingers in the curls of her motte. "Oh don't, you shan't." — Her resistance was slight, and I twiddled all about the soft region, but couldn't get to the split, her thighs were so tightly closed.
Withdrawing my hand and pulling out my prick in magnificent condition, I stood up for a moment showing it to her, then sitting down closed on her again, and cuddling, holding her tightly to me, got at last my fin-gers on to her clitoris.
She writhed to get away. "Let me feel it darling, I'll give you such pleasure." — Her movements only gave me better chance, I got my middle finger well on to that soft convexity, that gentle protuberance, placed there by nature to let the male rouse the female's lust, and let the woman assuage her lust solitarily by frigging, if she cannot be fucked. — Murmuring now the lewed words of love, intoxicating her with kisses, entreating, promising anything, everything. Her "No — no" grew faint, and her thighs opened with incipient pleasure. — "Aher, — doo — on't — leave off." — Her lips clung to mine as she murmured thus, in the enervation of sexual want — want of fucking.
Instinct told me the psychological moment had come. Pressing one of her hands for a minute on my ballocks and kissing all the time, for a second I frigged her rapidly.
She was silent with eyes closed, her body saturated with desire — almost unconscious of yielding to her lust whilst refusing, yet yielding. "Ohoo — noww." — "Let me fuck you, love." — Kissing her, my arm round her waist, I led her to the bed room, placed her on the bed, for a moment by her side laid feeling the region of her sex, then covering her, placed my red hot prick against her cunt, and in a second lodged it well and thrust — "Oho — ho — don't." I didn't enter, thought I'd mistaken the road and felt my tool. All was right and I lunged again. — "Oho" she cried. — A barrier! by the living God! she's a virgin! ! ! Then with fierce, al-most bloody determination now, I thrust as the fact dawned on me, thrust with the force of fifty pricks for entry. — "Ohoo." — Something nipped my gland tightly, nipped as it an india rubber ring was round it, then instantly loosened, gave way, and at the next lunge my prick was buried up to its balls in her cunt. Then shortening my thrusts in the glory of complete possession whilst her cries had ceased, next minute I flooded her avenue with boiling sperm, and sank quietly on her, kissing and endearing her.
As I came to myself, I was surprized — the virginity was so unexpected. Had I thought when first I accosted her that she'd not been fucked, I'm quite sure that under all circumstances I should never have at-tempted her. — Is my judgment, my perspicacity in feminine affairs, leaving me? So I thought as I lay with my prick still revelling in its hot lubricious bath, and she lay quiet with eyes closed. — "You've never had it before," at length I remarked. She opened her eyes. "Let me get up — do." — Shifting to her side and uncunting, I put my finger over the orifice which was yielding up fast the excess of my libation, and with drew it covered with blood and sperm. Then I tried to look at her cunt, but pushing down her clothes she got off the bed, so did I, and we stood looking at each other for a second or two. "You've never been fucked before," again I remarked. — "Of course not," she re-plied sadly. — "I'll get hot water for you to wash your cunt with." — Ringing, it was brought, and I left the room to let her purify alone, I knew I should soon see all that I wanted.
She came to the sitting room, had a glass more wine, for an hour we talked and kissed. The most luscious conversations I've ever had have been with virgins just after defloration. Open a woman's cunt and you open her mouth. Our talk was all about fucking, or what leads to it — about her being virgin — how she'd kept one so long — what her longings had been, what her sensations as my prick broke through the membrane, what as it stretched and spent in her. — Then cuddling, kissing, showing my prick, feeling her cunt, looking at its ragged bleeding edges; within the hour I done all this. She'd felt my stiff prick, I'd fucked her again, she had given down her maiden tribute to mix with her ravisher's, and our spendings had mingled in our pleasures.
Then, whether I could do her again became an anxiety, not being so young as I was. Again by the fire we sat, sipped wine, and talked and kissed and cuddled. She anxious to go, I to keep her, until at length with a long effort, but with prick which never showed signs of shirking its duty, nor dwindled from the moment it was gripped by her cunt, at length I did it, standing at the bed side, holding up her thighs, watching her lovely face as she spent with me during the luscious carnal exercise. Half an hour after that I had left her at her lodgings. I'll bet she fingered up her cunt more than once that night.
I shorten the narrative from here. Three days after we fucked in a warm comfortable bed and had full enjoyment for eyes, fingers, lips and prick. All my senses were fully gratified and hers as well. Soon after I was sorry to find a recklessness about her. She was still reserved about herself and relatives, and I never knew where she came from nor her real surname, perhaps not her Christian name. If she did not get a situation she'd go home, she said, but I knew that she could have got to service if she'd liked and told her so. — Well, she wasn't going to a tradesman's again, so she'd go home. She was very affectionate to me, hinted how she would like me to keep her, and so on. As said, she knew my name and address, and amusement was tending to-wards a tie, so insisted on her going home. — She agreed, I gave her ten pounds, fucked her before she got into the cab, took her to a railway terminus — and never saw or heard of her since.
She was a slim, well-formed girl, with a small quantity of darkish brown hair on a pretty little cunt. — I thought her a delicious fuck at first, but somehow ceased to care much about it soon after, whilst she seemed more eager for my prick at each meeting. She wasn't altogether a pleasant girl either — something in the background was, I think, shadowing her, there was such a strange look in her eyes at times. — Her face was lovely, she had the loveliest hazel eyes.
[Among many pieces of good fortune with women, this was one of the most singular and was due largely to boldness and opportunity. Boldness is one of the most essential qualities in getting women. Not much harm can result from it, if not good. A man can but be refused, and women don't tell of sexual requests to them. Not one virtuous woman in a hundred would tell anyone but a confidential female friend, if a man said to her. "Oh! I'm dying to fuck you," and she'd feel in her heart complimented by his desires, — tho she wouldn't tell that.]