Chapter IX
Theatre every night, heavy lunches, heavy dinners, much wine, and cigars never out of my mouth, that was the first few days proceedings. Fred was keeping a woman named Laura of whom I shall say more; she was always with us. I don’t recollect having a woman for a few days, but it may have been otherwise. On the fifth or sixth night we went to Vauxhall Gardens to a masquerade. It was a rare lark in those days. A great fun of mine was getting into a shady walk, tipping the watchman to let me hide in the shrubs, and crouching down to hear the women piss. I have heard a couple of hundred do so on one evening, and much of what they said. Such a mixture of dull and crisp bawdiness I never heard in short sentences elsewhere. Although I had heard a few similar remarks when I waited in the cellars of the gun-factory, it was nothing like those at Vauxhall, and it amused me very much. There were one or two darkish walks where numbers of women on masquerade nights went to piss, and many on other nights.
At supper Laura said, “Where have you been the last hour?” I laughed. “Tell us.” “Hiding in the shrubs where ladies go by ones, twos, and threes without men.” Laura understood. “Serves them right, they should go to the women’s closets; but you are dirty.” “Well it was such a lark hearing them piddle and talk.” Fred always coarse said he never knew a woman piss off so quickly as Laura. Laura slapped his head. She had not been gay, and was very modest in manner and expression; but loved a bawdy joke not told in coarse language.
The signal sounded for fireworks. Off we ran to get good places. I cared more about women than fireworks, and lagged behind, seeing the masquers and half-dressed women running and yelling ( fun was fast and loose then). I passed a woman leading a little girl dressed like a ballet-girl, and looked at the girl who seemed about ten years old, then at the woman, who winked. I stopped, she came up and said, “Is she not a nice little girl?” I don’t recollect having had any distinct intention at the time I stopped; but at her words ideas came into my head. She,—what a small cunt,—no hair on that. “Yes a nice little girl,” I replied. “Would you like to see her undressed?” “Can I fuck her?” I whispered. The little girl kept tugging the woman’s hand and saying, “Oh! do come to the fireworks.” “Yes if you like,—what will you give?” I agreed to give I think three sovereigns, a good round sum for a common-place poke then.
She told me to go out of the gardens first, get a cab, and stop at a little way from the entrance. In three minutes the woman and child joined me. At about five minutes’ drive from Vauxhall we stopped, walked a little way, turned down a street, and after telling me to wait one or two minutes, she opened the door of a respectable little house with a latch-key, went in and closed it. A minute afterwards she opened the door, and treading lightly as she told me, I found myself in a parlour out of which led a bed room, both well furnished. Enjoining me to speak in a low tone I sat down, and contemplated the couple.
The woman was stout, full-sized, good-looking, dark, certainly forty, and dressed like a well-to-do tradeswoman. The girl’s head was but a few inches above my waist, and she certainly was not more than ten years, but for such age as nice and fleshy as could be expected. She had an anxious look as she stared at me, and I stared at her. The last month’s constant desire to have a cunt absolutely without any hair on it was to be realized, I was impatient but noticed and remarked, “Why you have gas!”—a rare thing then in houses. “Beautiful, is it not?” said the woman, and in a voluptuous and enticing manner began undressing, until she stood in a fine chemise, a pair of beautiful boots, and silk stockings. Engrossed with the girl whom I was caressing, I scarcely had noticed the woman; but as she pulled up her chemise to tighten her garter, and showed much of a very white thigh, I said, “I’ve made a mistake, I did not mean you.” “No,” said she, “but it’s all the same.” She came to me, pinched my cock outside saying “oho” as she found it stiff, and then undressed the child to her chemise. I had white trousers and waistcoat on, and was anxious about rumpling them; At my request she drew my white trousers off over my boots with great care; then divesting myself of coat and waistcoat I stood up with prick spouting. “Look there,—feel it Mary.” The girl not obeying she took her little hand, and made her feel it. Sitting down I lifted the girl on to my knees, and put my hand between her little thigh.
“Give me the three pounds,” said the woman. All my life I have willingly paid women before my pleasure; but thought I was going to be done so demurred, and asked if she supposed I was not a gentleman, took out my purse, showed I had plenty of money gave her one sovereign, and promised the others directly I had the child,—and then pulled off my boots.
We went into the bed room, she lighted candles, the gas streamed in through the open door. “Lay down Mary,” said she. “Oh! he ain’t going to do it like the other man,—you said no one should again,” said the girl whimpering. “Be quiet you little fool, he won’t hurt you,—open your legs.” Pushing her back, or rather lifting her up, there I saw a little light-pink slit between a pair of thighs somewhat bigger than a full-sized man’s calves; the little cunt had not a sign of hair on it. To pull open the lips, to push up my finger, to frig it, smell it, then lick it was the work of a minute. I was wild, it was realization of the bawdy dreamy longings of the last few weeks. I was scarcely conscious that the old one had laid hold of my prick, and was fast bringing me to a crisis.
Pushing her hand away I placed my prick against the little cunt which seemed scarcely big enough for my thumb, and with one hand was placing it under the little bum, when the girl slipped off the bed crying. “Oh! don’t let him,—the other did hurt so,—he shan’t put it in.”
“Don’t do it to her, she is so young,” said the woman in a coaxing tone. “Why that is what I came for.” “Never mind, it hurts her, have me, I am a fine woman, look,” and she flung herself on the bed, and pulled up her chemise, disclosing a fine form, and to a randy man much that was enticing. “Look at my hair, how black it is,—do you like tassels?” said she, and throwing up her arms out of her chemise, she showed such a mass of black hair on her arm-pits, as I have rarely seen in other women, and rarely in an English woman at all.
“What the devil did you bring me here for,—it was for her, not you, I hate hair,—I like a cunt without hair.”
“Have me, and look at her cunt whilst you do it,—here Mary,” and she pulled the young one to the bed cunt upwards. But disappointed, lewd, and savage, I swore till she begged me not to make a noise, and saying, “Well,—well,—well,—so you shall,—hold your tongue (to the girl), he won’t hurt you,—look his cock is not big.” She pulled the girl on to the edge of the bed again, and brought her cunt up to the proper level with the bolster and pillows. Then said the woman, “Let me hold your cock, you must not put it far in, she is so young.” I promised I would only sheath the tip; but she declared I should not unless she held it. “Wrap your handkerchief round it,” said she. I did so, and that left only half its length uncovered. Impetuously I tore the white handkerchief into pieces, wrapped round about an inch of the stem of my prick with it, which then looked as if it was wounded, and bound up; then hitting the little pink opening I drove up it. I doubted whether I should enter so small it was. It held my prick like a vise, but up her cunt I was, the woman promising the child money, to take her to Vauxhall again, and so on, and then put her hand over her mouth to prevent her hollowing,—she did not hollow at all really.
I spent almost instantly, and coming to my senses held her close up to my prick by her thighs,—there was no difficulty so light a weight was she. There I stood for a minute or two. “My prick is small now,” said I, “unroll the handkerchief.” “No,” said the woman. “I will give you ten shillings extra if you do, my prick can’t hurt now.” The oddity of a woman attempting to unroll from a prick a slip of white rag, whilst the prick was up a cunt; but out came my prick from the little hole before she could accomplish it.
Desire had not left me, holding the thighs open I drop
ped on my knees, my prick flopping, and saw the little cunt covered with thick sperm. There lay the girl, there stood the woman, neither speaking nor moving, till my eyes had had their voluptuous enjoyment. “I will give you another sovereign now, and then fuck her again.” “All right,” said the woman. “But she must not wash.” “All right.” I gave it, then took the girl up like a baby, one hand just under the bum, so that the spunk might fall on my hand if it dropped out, and laid her on the sofa in the parlour, where the gas flared brightly, opened her thighs wide, gloated, and talked bawdily till my prick stood again.
Then I lifted her back on to the bed, and rolled the strip of handkerchief round the stem again; but I longed to hurt her, to make her cry with the pain my tool caused her, I would have made her bleed if I could; so wrapped it round in such a manner, that with a tug I could unroll it. The woman did not seem so anxious now about my hurting her.
Sperm is a splendid cunt-lubricator, my prick went in easier, but still she cried out. Now I measured my pleasure. With gentle lingering pushes I moved up and down in her. Under pretense of feeling my prick, I had loosened the handkerchief, then tore the rag quite away, and afterwards lifted her up, and then with her cunt stuck tight and full with my pego, and both hands round her bum tightly, I walked holding her so into the sitting room to a large glass. There seeing my balls hanging down under her little arse, I shoved and wriggled, holding her like a baby on me, her hands round my neck, she whining that I was hurting her, the woman hushing, and praying me to be gentle, till I spent again. I held her tight to me in front of the glass, her thighs wide apart, my balls showing under her little buttocks, till my prick again shrunk, and my sperm ran from her cunt down my balls. Then I un-cunted, and sat down on a chair. We were both stark naked.
The girl sat down on a foot-stool, the woman sat in her chemise. I gave her the remaining money, and to the little one some silver. Although I had had her twice, I scarcely had looked at her; both fucks must have been done in ten minutes. Now I longed to see the little cunt tranquilly. “Let me wash her cunt,” said I. “You can,” said the old one. I took the girl into the bed room, she left a large gobbet of sperm on the stool, which the old one wiped off. I washed her cunt, threw her on the bed, and looked at the little quim. It seemed impossible I could have been up it; but from that day I knew a cunt to be the most elastic article in the world, and believed the old woman’s saying, that a prick can always go up where a finger can.
Then after cuddling her, straddling between her legs and feeling my balls hanging between her thighs by passing my hand round her arse, I laid her on the bed, took a glance at the little cunt from a slight distance, and saw the old one in an exciting posture. She had thrown herself on the bed, and resting her head on one hand was watching me. Her chemise had slipped from her shoulders showing big white breasts, and the black thicket of hair in one arm-pit. Her chemise was up to her waist, one leg was bent up, the fat calf pressed against a fat thigh, the other extended along the bed, the thighs wide open, the middle finger of her left hand on her cunt, whose mass of black hair creeping up her belly and along the line of junction with the thighs could not be hidden by her hand. She was frigging her clitoris with her middle-finger, and she smiled invitingly. “Come and do it to me, I do want it so,—I have not had a poke for a fortnight.”
My love of a fat arse, and a big hairy cunt returned suddenly. I stood turning my eyes, first to the little hairless orifice, then to the full-lipped split, then to the little pink cunt, and then back again to the matured cunt. “Come, do me.” “I must go.” “Why?” “I came to have her.” “So you have,—now have me,—you can have her again if you like after.” “Can I?” “Yes,—oh! come, I am so randy.” “It’s late.” “Stop all night.” I said I would. Off the bed she got, put a nightgown on the child, laid her on the sofa, told her to go to sleep, and throwing off her boots and stockings, got on to the bed again.
I threw off my socks. “Shall I be naked?” said she. “Yes, it is very hot.” Off went her chemise, and the next instant cuddling up to me, she was tugging at my prick, kissing me, and using every salacious stimulant. Though a hot night, naked as we both were we felt a chill, so covered ourselves with a sheet.
“How old are you?” said I. “Guess.” “More than forty.” “I am not thirty-eight, although I am so stout,—feel how firm my flesh is,—how my breasts keep up.” I threw down the sheet to see her fully. She was delighted, turned round and round, opened her thighs, pulled open her cunt, exposed herself with the freedom of a French whore, and by the time I had seen all my prick was at fever heat, and I fucked her. Our nakedness was delightful.
We talked afterwards. She was not the mother, nor the aunt, though the child called her so; the child was parentless, she had taken charge of her and prevented her going to the work-house. She was in difficulties, she must live, the child would be sure to have it done to her someday, why not make a little money by her? Someone else would, if she did not. So spoke the fat middle-aged woman.
I was sleepless. After an hour or two I longed to see them side by side, that strange contrast in age and size, to try the difference with my finger as I had with my prick. She brought in the child, sleepy and peevish, I plunged my prick in the little one, took it out, and put it into the woman. It was a delight to feel the difference,—the room in one, the confinement in the other’s cunt.
The aunt annoyed me by putting her hand between our bellies to prevent my penetrating too far. It was not the stretching, nor the plugging, it was the boring too deeply which hurt the little one, she said.
I laid on my back and put the little one’s belly upon me; stretching her little thighs, I felt round them; and guided my prick up her, then the aunt put her fingers round my prick and squeezed my balls. How funny to have that little creature on the top of me; how funny to be able to feel at the same time a big hairy cunt at my side. Such thoughts and emotions finished me, and after spending in the little one, she again went to the sofa, then with my arse to the aunt’s arse we went to sleep.
She was the youngest I ever yet have had, or have wished to have. We laid abed till about mid-day. I fucked as much as I ever did in my life, and found that a tiny cunt although it might satisfy a letch, could not give the pleasure that a full developed woman could. Tight as it was, it had not that peculiar suction, embrace, and grind, that a full-grown woman’s or girl’s has. When I was getting drier and drier, the old one stiffened my prick, and I put it into the child; but oscillate my arse as I might, I could not get a spend out of me; then in the aunt’s clipping though well stretched cunt, I got my pleasure in no time. A fuck is barely a fuck if a man’s prick is but half up a girl, it wants engulfing. A very young girl never has the true jerk of her arse, nor the muscular clip in her cunt; so if a languid prick be put up it, it will slip out, unless the letch be strong; whereas a flabby, done-for prick, once in the cunt of a grown women may be resuscitated, and made to give pleasure to both, if she uses the muscular power which nature has given her between bum-hole, buttocks, and navel.
We eat and drank, I paid liberally, and with empty ballocks and a flabby tool went away. White trousers and a black tail-coat were then full evening dress at Vauxhall; but ludicrous in the day. I recollect feeling ashamed as I walked out in that dress in the sun-shine. She would not fetch a cab as she was most anxious about noise. She gave me full instructions where to write and have the girl again. About a fortnight afterwards I made an appointment, but she did not keep it. I went to the house and asked for her; a woman opened the door. “Do you know her?” said she. “Yes.” “She is not here, and I don’t know where she has gone,—perhaps you’re as bad as she is,” and she slammed the door in my face. A few years passed away before I took a letch for a hairless cunt again,—and then I was a poor man.
We went to Vauxhall on an ordinary night, and I showed Fred where I had heard and seen the girls make water. Laura I got to like, and she to like me which led to
something at a later date. In about three weeks or more I went back to my aunt’s, through an indefinable longing to poke in a quiet intriguing way, the women I had had there. In London I had changed my women twice a day, and fucked every nice French women who walked in Regent Street.
My mother was again going to see my aunt, and was delighted that I would go with her. Fred had gone to Paris with Laura, and wanted me to go, but money was getting short with me, for I had been heavily robbed, and as ten pounds a day (a large sum then) was the usual cost of Paris to me, I declined, and to the old Hall went with mother.
I did not see nursemaid or page. “You have a new nursemaid for Joey,” said I to my aunt. “We dismissed the other, we found her to be an improper character,—and Robert has gone,—he was too big,” said she. For two or three days I could not get Pender, who looked miserable when I met her, shook her head, and looked up to the skies. I went with my mother and aunt to the farm one day, Pender for a second stopped behind, and said to me in a hurried whisper, “I am in the family way,” and then ran after my aunt.
Next day I saw her for a second. “Meet me next Sunday at———.” “I must,” said she. We had no opportunity of speaking before, for her husband or someone was always in the way. To make sure I next day slipped an envelope into her hand, in which was one addressed to myself, and a scribble asking her to say where I was to meet her. It came back by post containing in execrable writing the words, “My dear, same time, and place, if he be out, on Saturday night.” I did not comprehend, but waited outside her cottage that night. She did not show. On Sunday I went to———, and long after eleven she appeared. Soon we were in the room over the beer-shop.
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