The narratives were written in the present tense, but in print have been altered to the past, which gives them an air of a studied composition, written as a man might write a novel; but the writing extended over well nigh forty years, and barely a word has been altered, excepting those due to omissions.
There are however a few remarks added here and there to explain the circumstances and connect the incidents; these are needful to explain lapses of time, and to show the continuity of the history, for all the amours were written separately; yet often I had two or three women in hand at the same period. So in arranging them chronologically a few additions and observations were needful to explain, and these are of them.
One muddy night in the Strand there was an exceedingly well-dressed and very short-petticoated (they all wore them then) girl of about seventeen years of age; her legs especially pleased me, they were so plump and neat, and her feet so well shod. After my offer had been accepted, we went to a house in a court just by Drury-Lane Theatre, and to a top-floor front room very handsomely furnished. She lived there, and was a dress-lodger as I found afterwards. She was beautifully clean, had fine linen, and was no sham in any way; a fresh, strong, plump, well-made young girl with lovely firm breasts, and a small quantity of brown hair on her cunt. Cunt and breasts looked only seventeen years, backside, thighs, arms, calves looked twenty. She stripped, and with but one feel and a stretch of her pretty cunt-lips, and a moment’s glance I plugged her, and recollect now my enjoyment of her. Then I dressed, and so did she. Though so young, she was a well-trained whore, had much pleased me by her freedom in manner, even to the way in which she washed her cunt and pissed after her fuck. I was not with her I should say twenty minutes if so long; my lust for her had been so strong.
“What’s this?” said she disdainfully as I gave her half-a-sovereign. “What I promised you.” “Oh! no you did not, I expect five pounds.” I expostulated. “Look at this room, look at my dress,—do you expect me to let a man come here with me for ten shillings?” “Its all I promised, had you refused I should not have come with you.” Then I put on my hat, and moved towards the door; she placed her back against it. “You don’t go out of here till you give me three sovereigns.” It must be added that I had paid for the room what appeared to me then a large sum.
I was in for a row, had not as much as two pounds about me, and was fearful of exposure, just then a row in a bawdy house would have injured me if known.
I gave her ten shillings more, she took it, but refused to let me go, she did not believe I had so little money,—I was a gentleman, let me behave as such,—no I should not go till I gave her what she asked. I tried to pull her from the door, but could not, then sat down on the chair, saying that if I must wait, why so I must.
She tried coaxing, I told her I was entitled to another fuck for my other ten shillings. Well I might if I gave her another twenty shillings. I put hands up her petticoats, and fingers up her quim, thinking she was giving way,—but no. I had forgotten my fears in my randiness which came on again by fumbling about her rump and cunt, and pulled out my prick stiff again. She bent over me, and gave it two or three frigs. That so excited me, that verily I believe I should have given her the money if I had had it, for the pleasure of having her again; but putting my hand into my trousers, found silver only to something like a pound in value, and told her that. Then losing her gentility she said, “I’m damned if you do go, you bugger, till you have paid me properly.”
Fear of exposure came over me, but I hid it, and sitting down looked at her as she stood against the door in her petticoats, her handsome limbs showing bright in their silks, and her plump breasts just squeezing the bubbies over the top of the stays. Laying hold of my tool I pulled it out. “Stand there as long as you like, you look lovely,—as you won’t let me fuck you, I’ll frig myself.” Suiting the action to the word I began fist-fucking, not meaning however to finish so. It was but chaff, for indeed I was funky.
She stood looking till I said, “I’m coming,—I’m spending,—lift up your petticoats, and let me see your cunt.” Then unlocking the door and opening it quickly she bawled out, “Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Smith, come up, here’s a bilk, come up quickly.”
I was now near spending as may be guessed, but buttoning up, went towards the door. She heard me, turned round, came in, shut the door, and stood with her back to it till a woman came in; and then she told her I had given her ten shillings.
The woman was incensed, was I a gent? she was sure I was, why not pay properly then?—a beautiful young girl like that,—just out,—look at her shape, and her face,—she had written to a dozen gents who knew her house, and they had all come to see this beauty,—all had given her five pounds, some ten pounds, they were so delighted with her,—and much of the same talk. The girl began to whimper, saying she never had been so insulted in her life before.
I told her that I had only promised ten shillings, but had given more; that the girl was certainly beautiful, and the room elegant; but I was poor, and would not have come at all had I known the cost. I had not the money, and therefore could not pay. Then the bawd’s tone changed. She was not going to have the poor girl insulted in that manner, she knew better about my means of paying, and I should not go till I paid more.
We went on wrangling until the bawd said, “Well if you have not money give us your watch and chain, we will pawn it, and give you the ticket, and you can get it out of pawn.”
I had hidden my watch,—nearly always did so then when I went with whores whom I did not know,—but saw in this a threat, and was getting more funky, yet determined to resist whatever came of it; so said I had no watch, and if I had, that I would see her damned first, before I gave it up. “Oh! won’t you,” said she, “we will see if you won’t,—we don’t allow a poor girl to be robbed by chaps like you in our house,—call up Bill,” said she to the girl. I saw that a bully was about to be let on me, and my heart beat hard and fast; but give up my watch I made up my mind I would not unless they murdered me. I had an undefined suspicion that they would ill-treat and rob me, and prepared for the worst,—my pluck got up then.
But fear of exposure was before me. “Look,” said I, “I have no watch, I have given her twenty shillings, here is every farthing I have about me,” and emptied my purse (there was but a shilling or two in it) before them, and put all the money I had loose in my pocket on to the chimney-piece. There was I think about seventeen shillings in all. “Look it is every farthing I have,—you may have that you damned thieves,—take it and let me go,—see my pockets are empty,”—and I turned them inside out.
“You’ve got more,” said she, “be a gent, give her three pounds, she never has less,—look at her, poor thing!” The girl stood whimpering, she and the woman stood with their backs to the door, I with my back to the two windows of the room which looked out on to the public court; the fireplace was between us, the foot of the bed towards it; the fire was burning brightly, the room was quite light. There they stood, the clean, fresh, wholesome-looking lass, and besides her a shortish, thick, hooked-nosed, tawney-colored, evil-looking woman,—the bawd,—she looked like a bilious Jewess.
The woman kept repeating this, for a minute or two. I refused to give any more, and grew collected. “Come now, what are you going to do?” said the woman, “you are wasting all her evening.” I took up half-a-crown off the mantle-shelf, and pushing the rest along it, “I must keep this,” said I, “but take all the rest, I have no more,—I have no watch,—let me go.” The woman laughed sneeringly, and did not touch the money, turned round, opened the door, and called out “Bill, Bill, come up.” “Halloh!” said a loud male voice from below.
I turned round, and with a violent pull, tore aside the red window-curtains, and throwing up the window, and putting my head out beneath the white blind, I screamed out, “Police!—police!—murder!—murder!—police!—police!”
Beneath the very window stalked a polic
eman; heard me he must, the whole alley must have heard me, but the policeman took no notice, and stalking on turned round the corner out of sight. Then the fear came over me that he was bribed, I feared they might be coming behind me, and turned round; the woman was close to me, the girl at her back. “What are you doing?” yelled the woman, “what are you kicking up a row for?—shut the window,—go if you want, who is keeping you?—this is a respectable house, this is.”
A tumult of ideas and fears rushed through my mind, I feared Bill was close at hand, and pushing the woman back with one hand I seized the poker with the right one. “Keep back, or I will smash you,” said I flourishing it, and again I shouted out, “Police!—police!” but not with my head out of the window this time.
The old woman backed and shut the door again, the young one came forwards speaking in a hurried tone, the old one dropped her voice to a whine; she did not want to keep me if I wanted to go. “Shut the window,—let her shut it,—give the poor girl two pounds then, and go.” Her house was a respectable house, the police knew it, why did I come to such a house if I had no money? The girl cried, I blustered, swore, and all three were speaking at the same time for two or three minutes.
“Let me go.” “Who stops you?” said the old woman, “give me the money.” “Open the door, and go out first then.” “I shan’t,” said the woman with a snap and a look like a demon. I turned round, and with the poker made a smash at the window. The curtains had swung, the white blind was down, but I heard the glass shiver and crash, a shout of “Hulloh!” from someone in the court. I raised the poker again against the looking-glass. “Get out, or I’ll smash this, and you, and everything else in the room,” striking a chair violently, and breaking it. I now did not care what I did, but was determined to fight Bill, or anyone else, and not be robbed.
The women were cowed, they cried out, Pray drop the poker,—they meant no harm,—the girl always had three pounds at least,—if I would not,—why I would not,—they never have had such a row in the house before,—to have her twice, and give her ten shillings was shameful. “A lie you bloody bawd, I have only had her once, and she has had twenty shillings.” “Well, there’s a good gentleman, go, and don’t make a noise as you go downstairs,—look at her, poor thing, how you have frightened her,—she will let you have her again, if you like,—won’t you Lucy?”—“well come along then, but don’t make a row,—leave the poker, —what do you want that for?” whined the woman. I would not relinquish the poker, they should go out first. The woman went, the girl waited behind to put on her frock. As she did so the little bitch lifted her petticoats to her thighs, showed her cunt, jerked her belly, winked and nodded her head in the direction of the old woman. I did not know nor heed what she meant by her nod and wink. “Get out,—get on,—get out,—I won’t have you behind me.” She made a farting noise with her mouth, and dropping her clothes went out. I followed her, looked at the doors on each landing as I passed, fearing someone might come out behind me, and edged downstairs sideways, looking both up and down. One door slightly opened and closed again; at the street-door the old woman said she was so sorry, it was all a mistake, and hoped to see me again. My blood was roused, I would have smashed woman or man who stood in my way, and eyeing the girl said, “Look at me well, if you meet me in the Strand again, cut away at once, get out of my sight, or I’ll give you in charge for annoying me, or robbing me, you bloody bitch, look out for yourself.” Then dropping the poker on the mat I went out, glad enough to be away from the den.
About a fortnight afterwards I saw the girl in the Strand, followed her for a quarter of an hour, saw her speak to various men, saw that an old, common, low servant followed her at a distance, occasionally stopping to speak with her, and turning up a street for that purpose. There was a fascination about looking at the girl; she was showily but handsomely dressed, her legs looked lovely. I longed to fuck her again, but without any intention of gratifying my lust, for I loathed her whilst lusting for her. She turned up C—t—e Street, stood over the gutter and pissed standing, the old woman talking to her and partly hiding her whilst she emptied her bladder. I waited till she had done. It was only about half-past nine o’clock.
She came towards me thinking I wanted her. I moved back close to a lamp, and raised my hat. “Look at me you damned whore, you attempted to rob me the other night, go out of the Strand, or I’ll tell the next policeman you have picked my pocket.” She turned on her heels and bolted without uttering a word, the old woman after her, cursing.
A month or two afterwards I saw her again, she was speaking to a group of gay women. Said I, “That bitch attempted to rob me the other night at ———Court.” “It’s a lie,” said she, but again turned round, and ran up a side-street as fast as she could. I don’t recollect seeing her afterwards.
I often used to go and look at the house when that way, it was such a needy-looking house outside with a narrow steep staircase starting close to the street-door. No one would have imagined it was so handsomely furnished inside (although I only saw the top room). Two or three years afterwards there was a row there, a man tumbled down the stairs (or was pitched down), and was picked up dead. The owner of the house was transported. I don’t know if it was the same man who was called Bill, but suspect it was, and that many a visitor had been bullied out of his money in that house.
One night about this time I saw a well-grown, stout woman who looked four-and-twenty. “What a thigh she must have,” thought I, “can I afford her?” and I felt in my pocket. Ten shillings with the room besides was too much for me that night. I passed her again looking her in the face, and longing for her, until she knew me and smiled. She had a bright laughing eye. Summoning courage I gave her a signal, and she followed me up a bye-street.
“I have only five shillings.” “Lord! you do want it cheap,—make it ten shillings.” “I can’t.” “Well I can’t.” “Three half-crowns, and then with the room I shan’t have a shilling in my pocket.” I used to speak in that frank way to them. She laughed. “You are an odd sort of chap,—well come along,—what house are you going to take me to?” “Where you like,—I don’t know them.” “Oh! yes you do,” said she, “you know well enough with that eye of yours.” We turned into a house which we both knew, not one of the most expensive.
I was exceedingly pleased with her manner, and in her house still more pleased with her face. Her eye was one of the merriest, she was bright, and fresh-colored, yet the general color of her flesh was slightly brown. Her plumpness made me so randy I could scarcely wait to feel or look at her, I wanted to push on to the fullest pleasures at once.
She eyed me pleasantly, and made some remark about the smallness of the sum, which made me uncomfortable. She saw it, and laughing showed a set of beautiful small white teeth. I gave her her money at once, and then began preliminaries. The room I recollect well. There was a large four-post bed, a large wire screen three feet high all round the fireplace, like those in nurseries. The house-woman flattened the fire down, and took away the poker,—to prevent the fire being stirred I suppose. There was but one candle, and the room was dark, there was scarcely gas in any of the houses in those days.
I drew her to me, my hand roved about her bum, belly, and notch, I asked her to undress, desire increasing by the feel of her thighs made me inquisitive. She would not undress, was in a hurry, some other night perhaps, not now. Impatient so that I might begin, I placed her on the edge of the bed, putting a chair for one of her feet. She lifted up her clothes freely, and I saw her cunt.
It was surrounded, though not in great quantity, with fine chestnut brown, soft, thick hair, her thighs were large, round, fat, and firm, the split looked small, was small outside, and I found it to be small inside as well. A large bum squeezed together by the position in which she was lying closed up almost the cuntal opening, so that just where the prick must intrude itself, the hole could scarcely be seen, her flesh had the slightly brown tint of her face.
How is it that at a glance all this was seen, and remembered ever since? What fascination a cunt has! Strange that a mere gap close to an arse-hole should have such power.
In admiration of her cunt and its surroundings I held a candle for a moment between her thighs. “Hold your quim open,—do,—do.” Her hand came down, the fore and middle-finger went on either side of the split, and distended the lips, showed the red lining, a clitoris, small, and nice-looking, and small nymphae sloping down to the narrow carmine darkness, closing up gradually and tightly between her bum-cheeks, squeezed up and closed by the weight of her body pressing up her bum the bed.
“I can bear being looked at,” said she. “Then open your legs wider,—wider dear.” Wider they went. Candle in one hand I pushed the finger of the other up her cunt. Then all delight of the eye was merged in the maddening desire to fuck. Putting the candle somewhere it fell down, and was extinguished; at the same moment slipping my prick to the opening, with a smooth glide up it went. Before I had moved my prick half a minute I was spending, before I had had a wriggle in her, before I had well clasped her buttocks, I was leaning over her sighing, and had finished before I had well began. I now think I feel my sensation up her as I write this, of the rapturous smoothing of her buttocks as I finished. Some women make me recollect them thus.
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