With Camille all came like new to me. She even anticipated me. If I pushed her to the side of the bed, she fell on her back and opened her legs gently, dis-dosing her slit in the most voluptuous manner, without spanning. If I strove to open her thighs, open they went as wide as she could make them, leaving me to open, shut, pinch, frig, or probe her cunt, as I listed. At a hint, she with two fingers would spread open the lips to enable the fullest inspection. If I turned her round, she would fall on the bed arse upwards, like a tumbler. If I cocked up a leg, there she kept it till I pulled it down. I scarcely ever said what I wanted, she guessed my desires from the way I turned her about. It was only at a later time when my bawdiness grew whimsical, and invented strange attitudes, or singular caprices of love, that I had to tell her what I wanted; but at first I was too timid for that. She once said to me laughing, “I am a born whore, for I like it, and like to see a man amuse himself with me.”
Her every movement, even when I was tranquil, was exciting. If she sat down, her limbs were in some position which by contemplation stirred my lust, and made me rush to stroke her, and was gratified in any form and manner I liked. With her all forms of copulation were wholesome and natural, so that I had enough variety.
I was constantly with her until pretty well fucked out, then I stayed away a while. When I recommenced she I expect thought I was weary of her, and set to work to keep me, by putting into my head things I had not heard, or thought of, asking if I would like to sate my lust in such, and such ways; and then procuring for me what she had suggested.
I was indeed worth treating so, for though I only gave her a sovereign at first, my money quickly began to go into her pocket from mine. The more variety I had, the more I paid, which was but natural, and fair.
She had a book full of the bawdiest French pictures; there was not an attitude depicted in it that I did not fuck her in. That done, she asked me one day if I would like another woman to feel whilst I had her. She came, and I fucked Camille feeling the other’s cunt, longing to fuck it, but fearing to propose it. Camille guessed what I wanted, and proposed it herself. With what joy my prick entered the stranger’s split, Camille looking on, holding her cunt open for inspection at the same time, and going through the motions of frigging herself whilst I was shoving. Then came endless variety. I had two other French ladies, and fingered their cunts whilst I fucked a third, then two more, laying cunt upwards, legs in the air, and arses meeting over Camille’s head. At last I had six altogether at once, and spent the evening with them naked, fucking, frigging, spending up or over them, making them feel each other’s cunts, shove up dildoes, and play the devil’s delight with their organs of generation, as they are modestly called.
Then came other suggestions. “I know such a little girl, not above this high,” she said. I ballocked that little girl. Then she knew one six feet high. She also I had. Then she knew one with an immense duff of hair on her cunt. Of course I had her. Then one with none at all; and mightily pleased was I, as my doodle rubbed in and out of that hairless cunt, the owner laying at the side of the bed, I standing up, and Camille holding a candle over the hairless quim, to enable me fully to see and enjoy the novelty, I was pushing up.
At intervals when worn out with spending, or disinclined to find the money, needed for this endless variety of women and cunt-hunting; I frequently spent evenings quietly in Camille’s society. I got from her information about habits of women, in a way which is not often given to young men by gay women; learned that women thrust sponges up their cunts, to prevent men finding out they had their courses on. For the first time with her, I understood that women could, and did frig themselves; and on her own cunt, placing herself my finger there, I first knew the exact spot where a women rubs for her solitary pleasure. She told me of women rubbing their clitoris together so as to spend,—what the French call tribadism,—and two women of her acquaintance did this. All of us half spoony with champagne after a jolly little supper; she set the two girls rubbing their cunts together. The two girls on the top of each other, I thought a bawdy amusement, and did not believe until after years, that flat fucking was practicable, and practised, with sexual pleasure.
Then should I like to see a man? Now it was not many years since I had frigged two or three, and declined it. Yet one night she expatiated so much about the wonderful size of a young man’s prick, and what a lot he spent, and how respectable he was, and what gentlemen had him, etc.; that I who had a dislike to men being near me, consented, and a fine young Frenchman came. I could not for half-an-hour go near him, but my temptress meant I should, and I frigged one of the largest pricks I have ever seen, and saw his spunk squirt over Camille’s arse, which the Frenchman requested her to turn upwards for him to spend on; indeed he said he could not make his cock stand until he saw her arse. Directly afterwards I had the most ineffable disgust at him, myself and all, and never saw him again.
I would not again be in the room with a man, but she arranged to let me see through a hole made in the door, herself fucked by another man, which I immensely enjoyed, but had not the sight repeated. I even used to hate the idea of her being fucked by anyone but myself; not that I had anything in the way of love or liking for her, which might have been termed affection.
So time went on, I paying handsomely, trying to see and do anything she suggested, and glorifying myself at being in the lucky way of doing and knowing everything. I told much to some special friends, some of whom wanted to find out my sources of such enjoyments; others thought I was a mere braggart.
Nearly a year ran away, and four thousand pounds, leaving me with infinite knowledge and a frame pretty well worn; but I never had a love ailment, nor have I ever taken one from a French woman yet.
She never suggested arse-hole work. In her book were pictures of buggering, and she asked me if I would like such a thing. I frightened at what I knew, which seemed like a horrible dream, said, “certainly not,” and asked if it was possible. She told me it was, but was “villaine,” and the matter was never again referred to.
With much fucking I got done up, and one night could get no cock-stand. She asked me if I had ever played at minette. I did not know what it meant. She told me it was having my prick sucked. I told her no. I have already narrated my licking the slightly haired cunt of young Martha, and how when doing so, she having my prick in her hand close to her mouth, and was playing with it, when scarce thinking of consequences, “Kiss it,” I said, “put it in your mouth”; and that the young girl randy with my licking, put it to her mouth or tongue, and that I immediately shot out my spunk without meaning it. That remained in my recollection as a nasty subject. The big-cunted woman also sucked me against my will. So when Camille suggested it I refused. There was another French woman with her; they were both naked on the bed, and I had been fumbling both, and bawdily amusing myself, with no cock-stiff or fucking desire about me. After a while I laid down on the bed with them, the other French woman told me, that some men never did anything else, and that she would like doing it to me. She had found out I was pretty liberal, and I dare say counted on my being so now, if I could get by her a new sensation; but I declined. The two women were laying in the reverse direction to me on the bed, so that I could see and play with both their cunts, a favorite posture with me then. After extolling the sensation of minette, she without my consent turned over me, and getting me between her knees back up, and so that her bum-hole and cunt were within a few inches of my nose, she began; whilst Camille who knew what would fetch me better than I knew myself, moved up her backside, so that I might grope her more freely. The double cunt feeling, the suction and sight generally, was too much for me, and the mouth soon drew my sperm with long lingering and half painful pleasure. My tender-tipped prick suffered, as it often did indeed when not in the proper receptacle.
The act made some impression on me, for I soon after had it repeated by the same woman, and she did it that time so that I saw the prick in her m
outh. I expect it upset me instead of giving me pleasure, for I stopped her, and my doodle dropped; but I permitted her to recommence; then I felt something press my arse-hole, it tickled and hurt me, I called out, “What are you doing?” at the same instant spent. “What have you done?” said I. “Nothing,” said she winking at me, for Camille was in the room. I did not like the business; she had shoved her finger or thumb up my bum-hole. I was too young to appreciate that luxury, took a horror at her, and never would have her again, nor would I have my prick sucked any more. Many years elapsed before I either had my arse-hole felt or felt a woman’s, after that night.
Then I had an old woman. Those she had brought me had mostly dark-haired cunts, and her own was black. As cunt was an inexhaustable subject with me, we were always talking about it. She said she knew a woman whose hair was quite grey. “Is she very old?” “No not above fifty.” That was older than my mother, and I could not think of it; but the conversation was renewed. “She has got as much hair as me, but quite grey, nearly white, and she is a nice clean woman; have us both, and you can see the black and white together.” So a fattish middle-aged woman certainly fifty and who seemed to me sixty, came; her hair was nearly white, Camille lent her stockings and chemise to make her decent I suppose, and the old woman who spoke scarcely a word, but drank furiously, turned up to me. She made some objection to showing her grummit, remarking she did not know it was to such a young man, but being told if she did not, she might go without pay, the sight came off; the cunt-fringe was nearly white. She was an English woman. Camille suggested I should have her; the old woman demurred, but Camille settled (and I really used to do almost what she advised), that I should have her and look at the grey cunt at the same time. So it came about; but when half up to spunking time, Camille said, “Take it out of me and put it into her.” When a prick stands and novelty is in the way it rushes at it. Out I pulled my prick, and put it up the grey cunt, spent in it, and pulled it out almost before I had finished. I never saw the old lady again.
Chapter XIV
I have told the most novel fucking bouts I had with, or through Camille, excepting the final one; but should say that whatever women she got me I turned to her with pleasure again. Sometimes when I had one or two to amuse me, I used to give her the preference for the fuck, and she always had one of the gruellings, for she was very handsome, understood everything, was sensuousness itself, but not vulgar. When I had a fit of extra lewdness she got me other women. Of course she got profit out of all, a thing I knew nothing about then. Often I had no want but for her, and she used to strip herself, or dress just as I wished, put her body into some attitude, then lay and read the paper whilst I used to sit and read as well, looking up from time to time at her. Then I would put her in a new attitude, and go on so for a time; then would make her piss, catch it in the pot, piss at the same time in it, stick a dildo up her cunt, and have every variety of amusement I could think of. She was always willing, never in a hurry, never refused. A charming harlot.
Making her piss was a favorite amusement with me, I would keep her a whole day without doing it, so that I might have a good long stream out of her when looking on.
I was most curious about the way a cunt opened and shut in squatting. It was the subject of my earnest investigation. I used to put two chairs so that they would not slip, nearly close together, and lay down with my head between them. Then Camille naked all but boots and stockings would stand up on the chairs, one foot on each; the legs naturally a little open as the chairs were a little apart, just disclosed the cunt. Then she would sit down slowly, so that I could gradually see the gap widen, the red nympho show, the clitoris jut out, and at length the whole cunt-gape ready for the piss. Then she would rise slowly and repeat it till I was tired; then still laying down I used to hold a large basin on my breast and belly, and squatting above my head she would piss into the basin. I would feel the cunt, and if very wet, dry it. In all this she was obedience itself; she never moved from one posture till I told her to get to another, would answer any question with frankness.
I have never lost this pleasure in seeing a woman piss, but at that time was too impatient to vary the amusements which a man and a woman can have with their piddle. It was reserved to me with other women, notably a French woman named Gabriell, and Sarah F—r, to have the fullest variety and enjoyment in that particular.
I had fucked Camille in every way excepting her arse-hole, I had spent between her bum-cheeks, but without the slightest intention of invading the bum-hole between them,—indeed then had a great dislike to looking at a woman’s arse-hole. At last fucked her arm-pits; she had a splendid arm, and an unusually large quantity of black hair beneath it which I much admired. One day she was poorly, I began fucking between her breasts, she suggested another woman, I would not have one; from her breasts I got to shoving between her arm and her breasts; then she wetted her arm-pit with Castile soap, which is of a soft slimy nature, and I fucked and spent between it. After a time we improved on this; she would lie in a convenient posture, I would lay a sheet of clean white paper on the bed, and just as I was coming, protrude the tip of my prick so as to free the pit, and shoot my spunk on to the sheet of white paper; or would catch the spunk in my own hand, and before my frenzy of pleasure was over rub it on her cunt, then fling myself on the bed and go to sleep.
I used to have her at the side of the bed with her bum towards me; then she would gradually twist herself round, and cocking one leg over my head, get herself with her back on the bed without uncunting my prick. This had to be done very gradually, for a jerk, and my prick used to slip out. I used to bet with her about this, and she generally managed to twist round and win. “Now push,—keep it well in,—hold on, I am going to lift my leg,” she would cry at the difficult point, which was when she had got her bum sideways to me, and was about to lift her leg; then putting my hands well on her hips, I used to draw my belly to her, and prick into her, as tightly as I could, whilst she gradually raised a leg, and pressing her bum up to meet my pressure, gradually got on to her back, with her limbs in a natural easy posture on either side of my hips. By that time I had got steam well up, and a shove or two usually let me off.
At last having done as great a variety of ballocking, and learn more bawdiness than most men of my age, I was knocked up, fucked out. My mother with whom I still nominally lived, was in despair. My guardian alarmed at the rate I was spending my money remonstrated, so I left Camille and her bevy of women, and went to the sea-side. There I renovated, and then spent my time on the sands, trying to see the women in the water. As I grew better my randiness returned, I got hold of gay women, but my old timidity clung to me, I used to pay them to piss, and had a grope up them; but do not recollect having anything more. I came back to London, and for two or three days afterwards Camill’s cunt had no rest. Then I temporarily got into another servant, and ceased to see Camille much. She tried all sorts of inducements to continue it on the old footing.
Then although she knew every incident of my life, she took to asking if I had ever had a virgin, saying, “Are you sure, did you see her cunt before you had her? Would you not like one again, if I can get you one, a young virgin French girl, one sure to be a virgin?”—and so on until she made me doubt if I had ever had one. At last I thought that I should like to have another. Well, she could get me a young French girl, but would have to go to France, it would cost a large sum of money. This talk went on for some time, and little by little I agreed to give her fifty pounds to pay her journey, and also to keep her lodgings on. She postponed the journey for a long time, but at length she went. She made me promise to do something for the girl besides paying her,—which meant something or nothing,—but I promised to pay the journey of the virgin back to France, should she want to go; and also whenever I had the girl, to pay Camille a “Victoria,” “because,” said she, “you will have my rooms and prevent my bringing friends home.”
So I came down with fifty pounds. Off
she went in quiet dress, and looked a quiet lady or middle-class woman. She advised me to keep myself steady, and the very moment before she left, whilst the cab was at the door, I turned her with bonnet and travelling dress on, bum outwards, and fucked her; she hurrying me all the time for fear she should loose the coach, she had not time to piss, or wipe or wash. “It will give me good fortune perhaps,” said she laughing, “or make you wish me back, it is lucky for me.”
There was but a slow rail to Dover then, nothing but tidal boats, and to Paris, the way I thought she was going, no rail at all, and it was a long journey. Whether she went to Paris or not I don’t know, but from later experience think not, that she was a Southern woman, and went straight home. She was to be back in a month. It came, but not she; another week, another, and I began to think I had been sold; another, and I gave her up altogether, and experienced a little relief, for the habit of seeing her had so got hold of me, that I could not shake it off, and yet I was tired of her, but I wanted the virgin.
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