Soon the very first night they felt each other’s flesh, Kitty wondering at the cunt and hair of the grown woman, Betty thinking perhaps of what I can only guess at. Kitty went to sleep with one hand between Betty’s thighs, and awaking in the night felt Betty again who was asleep and snoring. She was a stout, big-built, fat-arsed, black-bristle-cunted woman (that is from Kitty’s description), but she must have been older than she said, for the hair was thick and black in her armpits, and she had slight hair on her lips besides.
Betty got more free next night. “You’ve a sweetheart, and you let him feel this little thing,—the men call it cunt.” Kitty said she had not, and had not been felt. “I know better, you let him put his cock up it.” Kitty did not. “What never been fucked?—that is what men call it,—let me feel.” “No.” Betty felt Kitty’s cunt, and hurt her. “Well I don’t believe you have,—you are a stupid,—it’s half the pleasure of life,—feel my cunt,—give me your hand,—there your fingers are on it,—oh! it don’t hurt, you may feel right up.”
Kitty was overwhelmed and ashamed. “I did not like it, but yet I felt so curious that I let my fingers go where she placed them, and I felt all about her thing.” “Cunt Kitty.” “Well about her cunt.”
So gradually at night the elder led on the younger, by talking, feeling, and telling the little one all she knew, explaining the pleasures of fucking, the male mysteries, and male tastes and habits, although she was what was called respectable, and worked hard for her living as maid-of-all-work.
Betty pushed matters further. “I don’t quite believe you are a maid,—let me look,—would you not like to look at me?—show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” Curiosity to see the cunt of a full-grown woman took possession of Kit.
On Sunday Jim had a holiday, the shop was shut, Allwork cooked the dinner, then the fishmonger had grog, and went to lie down, Betty went up to clean herself, Kitty and the child went up with her then Kitty showed her cunt, and Betty showed hers. “It was big, and such lots of hair,—I’d never seen one before,” said Kitty, “she pulled it open wide, afterwards she pulled mine open, and we looked at each other over and over again. I’d seen my little sister’s and cousin’s, and two or three other gals’ things, but they were all young; I’d never seen a big woman’s.”
Kitty getting bolder asked if she had ever let a man do it to her. Yes, she had been married, and knew all about it. “You never had a child?” “Never you little fool, there are lots of ways of stopping that,—oh! I love it, I wish I had a nice young man with a big prick here.—I wish you were a man.” She took Kitty in her arms, and put her on the bed. “There, lay still on your back, open your legs, and I’ll show you how a man gets on.” Kitty did. Then she pulled Kitty on to her, and made her play the man. “There, move,—push your cunt up against mine,—up and down,—quick,—there, that’s how the man moves when he is fucking till he spends,—then Lord! ain’t he quiet!”
Within a week the experienced woman talking to the girl about fucking, had described its pleasures, explained its mysteries, acted and the mode and manner of the doing, until Kitty felt wild to see, feel, and act it for herself.
“Don’t you ever frig yourself?” said Bet. “No.” “You know what it is?” “Yes.” Betty told of the pleasure a finger could bring her, but Kitty was not forward in sexual wants, and she had not frigged herself or known sexual pleasure in her cunt up to that time, though she had fingered herself.
“I’ll frig you,” said she. Kitty objected, but the talk of prick, of the delight of the male and female in feeling and rubbing each other upset Kitty, who was growing older, and whose animalism was perhaps rampant that night. She left a lovely sensation all over her as Bet rubbed her cunt, and she spent. Betty then took Kit’s fingers, and rubbed her own cunt. “What with your fingers?” “Yes Kitty’s fingers,” and rubbed them on her clitoris, and frigged herself with them, Kit supposed.
That same night a-lying sleepless under the excitement of the novel pleasure whilst Allwork snored, Kitty frigged herself. The next night they frigged together. Betty said, “It’s poor pleasure,—I likes a man, and you’ll like a chap,—someone will fancy you soon,—you let him do it. When you have a great stiff cock up your cunt poking and poking, and poking away,—oh! it’s delicious, and you won’t like frigging after that.”
One night the fishmonger was out, Kitty put the child to bed (he had the child to sleep in his bed usually). Bet and Kit were in the shop-parlour, and Jim in the shop. Betty went down to the kitchen, Jim soon afterwards told Kit to give an eye to the shop, and call him if wanted, and down he went. Kitty who had been sharpened in three weeks, who had seen Jim kissing Betty, and giving her funny pokes when he thought no one was looking, went to the kitchen-stairs, and going down a few steps slowly and peeping; saw Betty with her back up against the wall, Jim close up to her and his hands round her, and his bum moving in a funny way. She knew they were fucking, and fearful of being detected came softly into the shop again; but she made a noise. Up came Betty, the Master came home, and told Betty to go to bed, and Jim to shut up. Soon after Betty washed her cunt. That seems to have been an operation that Kitty never had seen her perform excepting on Sundays. Kitty then felt sure that she had caught Bet at the pleasant exercise, for she had heard how something thick and white came out of the man’s cock, and how it was wise to wash the cunt out afterwards.
Betty seems to have been suspicious, for she began asking why she had come down the stairs. To call Jim, a customer having come—but he had gone away she replied. Betty was too clever to take that in. Did she see her, she asked. Kitty had seen her and Jim standing close up in front of her, “and he was moving about, and I told her,” said Kitty.
Kitty on being pressed said she thought they were doing what Betty had said men and women did. “Fucking me?” “Yes.” He was doing nothing of the sort, that she would swear; but they did it sometimes, for he was going to marry her soon, and after making Kitty promise not to tell, they went to sleep. “If you tell,” said the knowing older one, “you will lose your place.”
Next night Betty said, “You be quiet, Jim is going to marry me soon, only he don’t wish it known, he is coming up when Master’s asleep, and going to lay down by the side of me,—you sham to be asleep.” Kitty remarked, “He can’t lay here all night.” No, when he had had his pleasure he would go. Kitty had fear come over her, but promised, then fell asleep, but awakened, and heard Jim say in a whisper, “She sleeps like a top.” Then was a rustling and rumpling about, and Jim cried, “Oh! cunt,” Betty said, “hush!” they kissed, sighed, and Jim crept softly away, Betty got out and washed her cunt in the dark, and found Kit was awake.
This went on for several nights, Betty had oiled the lock and hinges of the door, and when she heard the Master go up to bed, would softly open the door, and leave it ajar. When Jim had emptied his ballocks he would leave and close the door gently, Bet would light the candle, and wash her cunt. One night she said to Kitty, “Come and see the stuff that comes out of a man’s prick.” Kitty jumped out of bed, saw the seminal sediment that Betty had washed out of her, and stood looking at Jim’s spendings at the bottom of the wash-stand basin. “Look how thick it is,” said Bet. “We have no thick stuff, have we?” Then she felt it. “You are a beast,” said Kit. “Wait till you have a sweetheart,” said Bet.
“Why,” said I to Kit, “I asked you before if you had seen anyone frig, and you said only your cousin.” “Yes,” replied she, “my cousin Grace, you didn’t ask me about anyone else, but I did see a young man once do it to himself,” added Kitty, “it was my cousin Bob.”
I made her tell me all about that. She had cousins male and female, one named Grace her friend, and a cousin Bob, who used to go and see them; he was a favorite of Kitty’s mother, a lad of sixteen, a carpenter. Grace must have been about a year older than Kitty.
Kitty’s parents lived in two rooms, and had the right to use a wa
sh-house. I am sure from all she said they were steady working-people. The mother went out sometimes charring, leaving Kitty at home to mind the children. She was useful at home, mended and made their linen. Grace often used to help her at needle-work.
Before Kit went to the fishmonger’s she was at home one day mending, and Grace with her. Grace was always talking about what she knew, and had frigged herself before Kit. Kit had tried to frig, but got nothing but a pleasant sort of feeling, nothing approaching the luscious crisis that she felt when Betty tried her middle-finger on her clitoris.
A knock at the door. “Who is there?” “Bob.” Kitty had been forbidden under pain of having her ears boxed, to let Bob or anyone else in when her parents were out. “You can’t come in,” she cried. “Let’s in for a minute, I’ve got something to tell you.” “Tell me through the door.” “No they will hear upstairs.” “No.” Bob began rapping a tune with his fists on the door. Grace said, “The lodgers will tell your mother.” Bob who seems to have been a little fresh said, “Oh! won’t you be sorry,” and tramped downstairs.
A noise outside. “Why there he is again.” “Is that you Bob?” No reply. “See if it’s someone else.” There was a shuffling outside. Grace got up and cautiously opened the door peeping. A big foot was thrust in, and she couldn’t close it, then pushing the door wide open, and himself into the room comes Bob. Probably with the instinct of what might follow Kit had thrust the two children into the bed room. Females are strange and cunning animals; even at an early age, cunt is always ready, always inciting, and preparing them for cock; knowing or unknowingly, whether for intrigue, or objectless, or for the delight of doing what is forbidden; cunt is always inciting the female to help the male, for “cock and cunt must come together,” as poor Fred said.
Bob was making a half-holiday, had had enough beer to elevate him, and was of an age at which a prick has a habit of getting inconveniently stiff. If you can’t afford to pay for cunt, or don’t know a cunt which will take you up it for love, your prick is a restless article, which will insist on the buttocks pushing it somewhere or somehow, till the stiffness is taken out of it.
A frisky youth with restless cods was in the room with two girls, one of whom was also frisky, and the younger inquisitive. They got joking, he kissed them, they tickled him, till he threw himself on the floor, and rolled about as the girls tormented him, and thought they were getting the best of him. He suddenly caught hold of them both, pulled them on to the floor in a heap, one on the top of him one by his side, and holding one one way, and the second another way, managed to put his hand on to one’s cunt, turned the other over, and lifting up her clothes slapped her naked backside; they struggling and crying out at the attack on their sacred privates, he fighting, overturning, and exposing the limbs of the lasses, until, as Kitty said, “he’s seed all we’d got to be seen over and over again.”
This quieted Kitty and Grace. When released they called him a blackguard, and told him to go out of their room. “I’ll tell my mother,” said Kitty. “Tell her,” said Bob, “tell her you saw this,” pulling out a stiff prick, “as stiff as yours,” said Kitty, who was laying at the side of the bed feeling my cock about whilst telling me.
“We turned away, then turned round, it was still out, he had got it in his hand, and was grinning. Grace said, ‘Let’s go to the children,’ and burst out laughing, so did I, because she did.” Kitty stopped her, saying, “Don’t let the children see him, they may tell mother.” After a time they turned round again, the fascination of the prick was on them, both wanted to see it. Grace winked at Kitty. “Go away Bob,” said Grace, “you’ll get Kitty’s ears boxed if it’s known you have come in.” “Don’t care,” said Bob, “show me your cunts, and I will. Cocky, cunty, cocky, cunty,” he sang out, “look here,—come and feel it.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Grace turning round again. (Kitty said that Grace told her afterwards she wanted to see as much of his thing as she could.) “Show us the crack between your thighs.” “You beast, I’ve a good mind to hit you,” said Grace. “Come on,” said he. “You go.” “Feel my prick first.” “I won’t.” “You Kitty.” “I won’t you beast.” “But,” said she, “I was curious like to feel it for all I said ‘no’ to him, and so was Grace.”
Bob ran at Grace, and catching her, pulled up her clothes, and felt her; then running after Kit, he did the same, the whole three were yelling, Bob with his prick out promising to go if they felt him, they frightened of the mother coming home.
They were much agitated now, the children in the bed room were crying at the row, and both girls threatening to call the lodger upstairs. “Let me,” said he, “let me put my cock just on your naked thighs,—do, —do,—do,—only for a minute.” “Shan’t you beast.” “Oh! I must do it,” said Bob, “I must,—hooo,” and then sitting down on a chair, Bob closed his eyes, frigged away, and saying, “Oh! it ought to be in your ck—ck—cunt,” spent, the two girls looking at him and at the sperm jetting out on to the floor.
They stood looking, never uttered a word, and fear came over them lest Kitty’s mother should come home, and catch him there with his cock out, and his sperm on the floor. “Go, there is a good young man,—mother will be home directly,—oh! that’s her footstep,—run upstairs, and wait till she’s in.” Bob whose nervous system was I dare say a little shaken by his frig, buttoned up his trousers, and ran out of the room. The girls locked the door and listened,—it was not the mother, then they began to talk.
“That’s it on the floor,—that’s what comes out of a man’s cock when he puts it up a woman’s thing,” said Grace,—“it’s that which gets a woman in the family way,—it’s that which gives them both pleasure when they do it together, when his thing is up her thing.”
Grace told all she knew, that when her mother was “lying in,” she once peeped through a keyhole, and saw her father frig himself. They talked of the pleasure they had heard it gave the woman to have that warm injection up her. Grace frigged herself, Kitty tried but got no pleasure, they sat opposite each other on chairs, Bob’s spunk still on the floor. That was the only time she had ever seen spunk till she saw Jim’s in the wash-hand basin. “Should you like to see mine Kitty?” “Shouldn’t I!” said she. “You shall someday,”—and one day she frigged me.
Kitty was quite artless when she told me this, she had taken a liking to me, though I did not then know it, and was delighted to tell me all, it seemed quite a relief to her to do so. She had never spoken to anyone else about it. To a man? she should think not,—it was not likely, and though I asked her often and often about it at times she never varied the account. I believed it implicitly, and that is why I narrate it here.
Several nights Jim served Betty so, till one night Kitty sneezed. “The girl’s awake,” said Jim. “Who is that?” said Kitty shamming, though she knew full well. “It’s Jim,—you won’t tell, will you?” said Betty. “I have told her you are going to marry me,—have I not Kit?” Jim went on tailing his mistress, but now that he knew Kit was awake he put out his hand and felt Kitty’s bum whilst fucking. “Did you tell Betty that?” said I. “No,” said Kit laughing.
Next night Betty who seems to have taken delight in debauching Kit, made her feel Jim’s prick, she pulled her hand to it. “I thought I liked to feel, but I shammed that I did not.” “Was it big?” “It seemed bigger than yours, but I didn’t see it.”
This went on for a fortnight or so, Kitty feeling always afraid that they would be found out, and so it came to pass. Illicit fucking in a house not your own is sure to bring trouble.
The Mistress’ sister came to nurse her, and slept in her room. Betty said the sister gave a lot of trouble, and was always poking her nose where she had not business to poke it. Jim did not come up for one or two nights, he had heard someone moving either in the Master’s, or in the sick woman’s room. Kitty was glad of it. Jim I suppose at last randied out of his prud
ence one night, and Betty reckless for want of fucking, told him to come, and up he came. Then a violent knock at the door came just as he was fucking Betty.
“Who is that?” “Me.” “Wait a minute sir.” “Open it, or I will break the door open.” “Wait sir, I’m not dressed.” In came the door with a crash. Jim was just by the bed, Kitty standing by Betty, for both got up. At the door was the Master and his sister-in-law. “You damned whoring bitch,” said the Master to Betty, “at day-light out you go from my house.”
The sister-in-law turned down the bed, looked at it, and then at Kitty. “Please Ma’am it’s no fault of mine,” said Kit. “You dirty little hussy, why did you not tell what was going on,—your father shall hear of this.” “Dress yourself,” said the fishmonger to Betty. “Leave them alone till the morning,” said the sister-in-law,”—and both left the room. Jim half-dressed, without speaking a word, had crept downstairs whilst the talk was going on. The Master did not speak to him at all.
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