I stayed the whole evening with her, fucking at intervals. A— did not come back. I am sure she knew he would not, and had asked me in because she wanted me to have her. She did not tell me she had had the clap, nor I her,—it was Mabel who had told me.
She hinted she should like to meet me again, and I made some half-sort of promise, but never did. Mabel became more and more expensive, discontented, lusty, and quarrelsome, and she was not clean. She would feel my wet prick after it had left her cunt, and then cut bread and butter without washing her hands. We had rows, and I left her, giving her a handsome sum of money. Laura said she had gone back to Plymouth with Lord A— , who had left Lady A— Then Fred, I and Laura were just as we used to be. He seemed to have forgotten everything, and I never presumed on having poked Laura. We went to Paris, leaving Laura in London with her sister, who came up to stay with her,—a nice girl.
Though short of money now, Fred and I at Paris took no heed, but rattled away as if our purses were inexhaustible. His furlough was nearly up. We had no end of women. “Old———(naming a relative) will leave you all his money,” said he, “he’s fond of you, and has no one else to leave it to.” I and all my family thought that; my mother had repeatedly warned me that he was discontented with my goings on; but I counted on his love for me, love since I was a baby; so I played at Paris a jolly game, regardless of money.
When I came back from Paris, I tried to retrench, but found it all but impossible. I got rid of Mabel, spent five shillings for my dinner, where I used to spend twenty, went to live with my mother, put down my horses and carriage, and discharged my man and grooms. But as I diminished my amusements and extravagances generally, so I seemed more and more to need women. My cock stood all day, and half the night. Women I had by dozens. I tried to reduce their fees, and did to a little extent, but for some years I had been accustomed to a liberal expenditure in that article and though to a country girl I could give five shillings, to a Londoner I could only give gold, and never refused more if they pleased me, and were not satisfied.
Fred then went abroad to his regiment. He made arrangements for Laura to have a small income, not a tenth of what she had had, but enough to keep her in a quiet way. I at first was to pay it to her. She was to have it as long as she remained steady, and he hoped she would go home, hoped she would keep steady till his return,—his return which was not probable in less than seven years at the least.
One night when together, we laughed at the absurdity of expecting it. “Walter, is it probable that a fine woman like that will be content with frigging herself?” “No.” “She will be fucked,—I would if I were she,—it’s a shame to wish her to go without fucking. If I were married to her, she would go with me, but a man can’t take a mistress to India, he could not live with her, and all the regiment would be smelling at her tail,—she will be fucked, and I can’t help it.” Tears stood in his eyes. “You give her a grind old boy, if she must have it, I’d rather you did it than anyone, and it will keep her quiet. You have had her,—do you recollect that night?—oh! God, what a spree! I never had such a spree before in my life, and never shall again.” I said I would take care of her as if a sister, as to having her, he might dismiss such an idea from his head, and I meant what I said. He went abroad, and was killed in battle. I loved him.
Laura went into humbler lodgings, I saw her often, but never made the slightest advances. Soon she could not make her money do. Her mother came up to stay with her, and she had then partly two to keep. She dressed plainer, sold or pawned her best things, told me all, and how it was impossible to make the money do. Then I made her a present, she kissed me, and that set my blood boiling. Her mother wanted her to go back to the country, I advised it also; it was agreed she should, and her mother went back. A day or two afterwards I called on her, she got me a chop for dinner, and sent for wine. We talked about Fred, she cried about him, I kissed her to comfort her, she kissed me again as we sat on the sofa, my arm went round her, I pulled her hand on to my shoulders; and that spree at Lord A—’s came into my head.
“You miss a bed-fellow Laura, don’t you?” “Oh! no, but I miss poor Fred, he was so kind.” “Do you recollect that night?” “Don’t mention it, I am ashamed of it,—oh! don’t look at my boots, they are so shabby now.” I had begun at the ankles, as I always did, it was on the road. “You are not so stout as you were my dear.” “There is not any difference in me.” I pinched her thighs outside her clothes. “Ah! I’m no thinner there I’m sure.” “Let me feel.” “Oh! now don’t,—it’s a shame.” “My darling, you are as smooth and plump as ever,—I know the feel of those beautiful thighs, I’ve laid on them.” Soon my hand was between them, my finger on the clitoris. “Poor Fred,” said she still crying, her head on my shoulder. In another instant her hand was round my prick, her thighs open, my hand restless, and roving all about her cunt. “Lay down.” “I won’t.” “It won’t hurt him poor fellow, he is far away.” For a few minutes we coaxed and fondled, kissed and cried, saying it was not fair, and we never would. Then cock and cunt getting hotter and more sensitive, I pushed her flat on the sofa, and we fucked ecstatically. Rising she sat looking at me, her clothes half-way up her thighs, I looking at her with my wet prick hanging its head. Then we hugged, kissed, and did it again.
“It was to be,” said she (as if poking her was fate). “Quite true dear, but let’s go to the bed, the sin is no greater if we do it ever so many times.” Into bed we got, and there I think we laid for sixteen hours. Laura was a lovely bed-fellow. I had a good look at the hair on her cunt, it was very long, curled round, and completely hid her cunt, even when standing with her legs slightly open; and when she pissed, she left drops of piddle on the hair. On her that bush was handsome, but very long hair is not generally handsome on a cunt, and I have disliked, it on others; but it is not often found. I am describing here what I saw more coolly, and often on future occasions rather than what I saw and recollect of her cunt, on that night of exhausting pleasure.
I had now but little money to spare, but gave her a little from time to time, and a great deal of bum-basting. One day she said, “I’m in misfortune again.” She was in the family way, had been so before by Fred, but had managed a miscarriage. She now got one, but was seriously ill, and sent for her mother, and when she got better she went home. I sent Fred’s money to her there for some time, then she wrote me to send it to a post-office, and afterwards to send no more, at she was going to be married. She hoped I would never tell Fred, that I would burn her letters, and if I ever saw her, would not notice her. I never saw her again. She wrote to Fred about her marriage, and he was delighted at it, as well as at saving his money. I have finished her history, so far as it was connected with me; and must now take up my narrative at a time before this.
Friends were going to Paris, I went with them, and a jolly loose time we had for a few weeks. I made acquaintance with six or eight of the best bawdy houses, and had women galore. Theatres, excursions, high-feasting, unlimited whoring were the characteristics of my trip. I returned empty in pocket, and knocked up with copulating, yet had had none of the excitants, with women that I have had there since. I rushed at cunt directly I saw it; my physical enjoyment was so intense, that I could not dally with my prick, but let it satisfy itself as soon as it liked. The varieties that Camille had given me left no taste for them. Cunt, belly, and thighs, seen, felt, and fucked in regular fashion, was my delight. Heaps of bills met me on my return. The thought of becoming bankrupt horrified me. I disposed of my remaining property, paid all, and was left with a few hundred pounds. I pass now over a short time of which there is nothing to be said, but that I was economical in all but women.
My remaining guardian and my mother had been always at me with advice, which I entirely disregarded, and flung away money in all directions. Had I only spent it on women it would have lasted years longer. That which women had I do not regret, they have been the greatest joy of my life, and are so
to every true man, from infancy to old age. Copulation is the highest pleasure, both to the body and mind, and is worth all other human pleasures put together. A woman sleeping or waking is a paradise to a man, if he be happy with her, and he cannot spend his money on anything better, or so good.
Soon after, almost dependent again on my mother, who did nothing but upbraid me, my hopes centered in my old relative, who had promised to make me his heir. He was not so gracious to me as he used to be; he murmured at my extravagance, and supposed that any money I had would go down the same sink, by which he meant women. He died suddenly, just as he was in greatest wrath with me, and left me nothing.
All hopes were dashed to the ground. Laura was my consolation till she left. For a year of my life I was needy and discontented, but not so miserable as I was fated to be. I pass over that period, there was not much in the amatory line to tell of. Fucking is a commonplace thing, the prince and the beggar do it the same way, it is only the incidents connected with it that are exciting. Voluptuous, reckless, youth and beauty together, make the vulgar shoving, arse-wagging business poetical for the time, but it is animalism.
Then I committed a more fatal error than spending a fortune in jollity; what it was will be guessed, it is only referred to here to connect my history. I was then in my twenty-sixth year.
I add a few observations which on reading this written many years ago, seems now needful to explain even to myself.
Most of my relatives lived in the provinces, and were wealthy. We visited each other periodically, but distance (there were few railways then) prevented them from entering into my daily life, still less my secret life. Fred’s mother was nearest to us, and as the episodes show, she and her family were most mixed up with my affairs. An aunt in London, childless and rich, gave me most money, and afterwards left me a good sum. I cared but little about those living at a distance. With a cousin from the North I had some rousing debauches, which were at the time known to many of my family. He is still alive, but pious, and with a large family, and would not like to know I am writing this. Jolly old Ben, I won’t narrate our sprees, for you may live to read this,—who knows?
Chapter XVI
My life was now utterly changed; married. I was quite needy, with a yearly income (and that not my own) not more than I used to spend in a month, sometimes in a fortnight. Every shilling I had to look at, walked miles where I used to ride, and to save a six pence, amusements were beyond me, my food was the simplest, wine I scarcely tasted, all habits of luxury were gone, but worse than all I was utterly wretched. I tried to make the best of my life and could when by myself be cheerful, even in the recollection of the past fun; but there was that about me now which brought sorrow over to me. The instant I saw her, she checked my smile, sneered at my past, moaned over my future, was a nightmare to me, a very spectre.
I tried to like, to love her. It was impossible. Hateful in day, she was loathsome to me in bed. Long I strove to do my duty, and be faithful, yet to such a pitch did my disgust at length go, that laying by her side, I had wet dreams nightly, sooner than relieve myself in her. I have frigged myself in the streets before entering my house, sooner than fuck her. I loving women, and naturally kind and affectionate to them, ready to be kind and loving to her, was driven to avoid her as I would a corpse. I have followed a woman for miles with my prick stiff, yet went to my wretched home pure, because I had vowed to be chaste. My heart was burning to have an affectionate kiss, a voluptuous sight from some woman, yet I avoided obtaining it. My health began to give way, sleepless nights, weary days made me contemplate suicide. It seemed as if I never could have happiness again, yet my physical forces, or so much of them as lay in my generative organs, seemed unimpaired. I neither drank nor debauched, and my prick stood incessantly; neither random frigs nor night-dreams stopped it.
My only relief from misery was in thinking over the pleasures I had had, yet all seemed such a long time past, that it was like a dream. Then a desire to have other women became invincible. I had no means to get those I had been accustomed to, and seemed to have no idea of going economically to work for my pleasures, but at length began to walk through streets inhabited by very poor gay women, in a neighbourhood I had known in my early youth. Then I found out other poor quarters, and one night with but a few shillings in my pocket, after thinking of throwing myself into a canal, I found myself at a spot where women of a somewhat better class lived in its centre, and on its outskirts very poor harlots.
“I will,—have I the money?—can’t help it,—if one won’t another will,” and I slunk into a street, half ashamed of entering it. Saw girls standing at doors, never paused for selection, nor to see if one looked nicer than another, it was cunt I wanted. The moment I turned the corner of the street, I cared not who or what, as long as she had a petticoat and what it hid from sight. I took the nearest.
“Will you let me have you for five shillings?” was all I uttered. I recollect it as well as possible, hanging my head, ashamed of my offer, and not looking at the girl, ashamed of being seen in the neighbourhood.
“All right,” said she turning round. I followed her through the little narrow passage of a four roomed house into a little room with a bed on one side of it. I looked at her, and she at me for an instant only. “Here are the five shillings,” said I. “Shall I undress?” “No.” “Shall we get on the bed?” “No, at the side,”—and whilst speaking I had half lifted her on to it. Laughing with a peculiar chuckle she fell back, pulling up her clothes. I saw plump thighs, dark hair, felt giddy, could not see, recollect opening the lips, and began to spend as the tip of my prick touched her cunt. Following the spunk as it shot up the passage as it opened its way, with one thrust I was up her, and had finished. Fifty times in my life up to the time I pen this, has a similar rapid ejaculation occurred to me when randy.
“Didn’t you want it!” said she. They were the first words I recollect being uttered as I bent over her. How divine she seemed. “Let me do it again.” “Oh! you ought to give me a little more.” “I’ll give you a shilling, it’s all I have I fear; but more if I have it.” “Very well then,” said a soft voice. Oh! what a heavenly few minutes they seemed to me,—they still seem to me,—as I fucked her again. First and second fuck must have been all over in five minutes. I had not un-cunted.
“Pull it out,” said she after an interval, my cock still keeping in her; but I kept close to her, and up her. “Be still dear, do pray,—I’ll see what money I have.” My hat and my great-coat were on, it was cold, I had only unbuttoned my trousers enough to get out my prick. Keeping still up her, I thrust my hand into my trousers pocket, pulled out all the money I had, and put it on the bed beside her. “See, it is all I have, every farthing, a little more than I said,—let me do it again,—there is more than seven shillings,”—and pressing well on to her haunches, I began wriggling my prick.
She turned her head, looked at the money, but did not touch it. “Very well,” said she in a low voice, “but take it out,—don’t make my chemise in a mess, I have not another clean,—don’t make a mess on the bed if you can help it.” “I shan’t.” “Yes you will, you have spent such a lot, it’s running out now.”
I withdrew. She took a towel which was close at hand, wiped her cunt and spread another for her bum. I threw off hat and coat. Soon now we were both on the bed, I up her, and leaning on my elbow for the first time really looked at her. Up to that moment cunt, cunt, nothing but cunt was in my mind. Now I saw that her eyes were blueish, her hair dark and wavy, I recollect our staring in each other’s faces for a minute or two without speaking. A candle on a little table close to the bed showed a strong light on us sideways; then we both fucked with vigor, and Mary Davis spent with me,—she spent with me, that poor little gay woman.
“You are a nice poke,” said the girl. I got off the bed, sat on a chair by the fire, and looked at the merry face of the little gay woman as she smiled at me whilst washing her quim.
The pleasure I had just had, the entrancement of the carnal pleasure contrasted so strongly with my misery at home, that I burst into tears, and sobbed like a child. She rubbed her quim dry, then silently came up to me, put her hand on my shoulder, and stood without uttering a word till my passion was over. “Are you unhappy?” said she in a gentle tone. Yes I was. “Never mind, I dare say it will be over some day—we have all got unhappiness.”
Her kind voice and manner—she a gay woman who owed me no kindness—so contrasted with the coldness elsewhere, that it made me worse and again I sat sobbing, and taking no notice of her; she still standing with her hand on my shoulder.
“Have something to drink,” said she. “Yes,”—but recollecting myself, “No, I have no money, I have given you every farthing I have.” “Never mind,—do you like gin?—I do.” “Yes.” She called out to the landlady, “Fetch me a shilling’s worth of gin, and mind you don’t take any,—mind a shilling’s worth fills this bottle to here (giving the landlady a large medicine bottle), don’t take any, and I will give you a little. I’ll pay for the gin,” said she turning to me.
I sat looking at the fire. “You have not washed yourself,” said she. “No, are you unwell?” “No, I think I am all right, but we can’t always say you know, and it’s best to wash after us,”—and I washed.
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