Polly never forgave my friend Frank for what she always considered his base desertion.
As for Sophy, I got her a divorce from her husband shortly afterwards. I give her an allowance myself, and I believe in my heart, that as women go, she is a very good one. I know that she has never ceased to pray for what she calls her great sin, but which I term my damned misfortune.
Polly married a brewer down in Devonshire, and as I have had several opportunities of testing her quality, I can assure my readers that the brewer has no cause to complain of his draw in the matrimonial lottery.
REFLECTIONS ON AULD LANG SYNE, HAPPY MEETINGS, AND CONCLUSION
Fifteen years have now elapsed since I scribbled the former part of my experiences. Times are sadly altered with my best friend now, and I am rapidly approaching the time when all may prove ‘Vanity and vexation of spirit’, for although I still carry a most formidable outward and visible sign, the inward and spiritual grace so necessary to please the ladies is now almost dormant in my fucked-out nature.
Just now I have been reading a fine little book on re-juvenescence, called ‘Abishag’, by David II., which I think gives an excellent remedy for such cases as mine. George the Fourth must have thoroughly understood the theory advocated by the writer, for although in earlier life his motto was ‘fat, fair, and forty’, he afterwards was found frequently engaged in seducing by any means, fair or foul, the youngest and most innocent girls he could find.
The more I study the character of the first gentleman in Europe, as he was called, the more thorough a voluptarian he seems to have been; his youthful vigour at first delighting in the charms of thoroughly developed and sensual women, and gradually in his latter years turning to the worship of Molech, sacrificing to his lustful God the unfledged virginities his numerous myrmidons placed in his way.
Years ago I remember how I looked with something like contempt upon the art and science of flagellation as dilated upon by Monsignor Peter, of the Oratory, now I am quite converted to his theory.
A most fortunate rencontre has been the means of this conversation; lately sauntering down Regent-street, thinking of the time when I used to do three or four pretty demi-mondés in the day, ‘Ah, Gerty, do you know him, too?’ in an ever to be remembered voice, caused me to suddenly turn and confront the speaker, who proved to be none other than Mrs. Leveson, looking almost as lovely as ever, and incomprehensibly in the company of my old flame Gerty, of the Temple.
This was a delightful renewal of old acquaintanceships, and a very few explanations let me thoroughly into the situation.
Leveson had been dead several years, leaving his wife sole guardian of their son (my son, she assured me, in a loving whisper, ‘he is now eighteen – never can I forget the night you made him for me’).
Gerty had been persuaded by Mrs. Leveson to give up her dressmaking business, and live with her as a kind of companion housekeeper, the former’s Sapphic tastes having attached her to the voluptuous Mrs. L, who discovered it from Getty’s remarks on the women of the day in Paris, who prefer their own sex as lovers, and care very little for the attentions of men.
‘My son is abroad with his tutor; will you, Mr. Clinton, come home to dinner, and spend the evening at our quiet little town house. James is such a rake – just like his father – I don’t mean Mr. Leveson, poor dear, he was rather too good, and never made a baby for me or anyone else. Gerty knows all about it, but your name was never mentioned, and now I suppose you are the Temple student who seduced her with finery, and took advantage of her young inexperience, although she never mentioned you?’
‘Really this is most charming, but, my dear ladies, I can only accept your hospitality if you promise we shall be a happy family – free from jealousy.’
‘Make yourself easy, dear Mr. Clinton, as to that, everything is common between us in thought, word, and deed, in fact, with our dearest friend, Lady Twisser, we are three loving communists, each one’s secrets as sacred as if our own.’
‘Lady Fanny Twisser, who was separated from her husband because he couldn’t believe his dildoe was the father of her boy!’ I exclaimed.
‘Good God, Mr. Clinton, there you are again; you must be a universal father, now I’m sure it’s you did that service for dear Fanny, and we’ll wire to her at once to come and join our dinner party.’
Highly elated they conducted me to their carriage, which was waiting outside Lewis and Allenby’s, and soon reached Mrs. Leveson’s house, in Cromwell-road, South Kensington.
Gerty showed me to a room to prepare for dinner, and it was arranged we should have a real love séance after the servants had gone to bed.
At dinner I saw Lady Fanny, who met me with a most fervent embrace, assuring me, with tears in her eyes, that I was the source of the only happiness she had ever had in her life (her son, now at college at Oxford).
All dinner time, and the long while we sat over dessert talking over old times. I felt as proud as a barn-door cock, with three favourite hens, all glowing with love and anxious for his attentions, the ardent glances of lovely Mrs. Leveson told too plainly the force of her luscious recollections, whilst Lady Fanny, who sat by my side every now and then, caressed my prick under the table, as he slightly throbbed in response to her touches.
At length coffee was brought in, and the servants told to go to bed.
‘At last!’ sighed our magnificent hostess, springing up and throwing her arms round my neck, ‘I have a chance to kiss the father of my boy; what terrible restraint I have had to put on myself before the servants. Dear James, you belong to us all, we all want the consolation of that grand pracititioner of yours; have which you please first, there’s no jealousy!’
‘But, darling loves, how can I do you all? I’m not the man I was some years ago!’
‘Trust to Gerty’s science for that, she let us into the ‘Pinero Balsam’ secret, and we have a little of it in the house for occasions when it might be wanted. It’s very curious how you ruined the morals of both Fanny and myself, two such paragons of virtue as we were; we could never forget the lessons of love you taught us, and, now we are both widows, with dear Gerty here, we do enjoy ourselves on the quiet. Fanny’s boy has me, and thinks it is an awfully delicious and secret liasion; my James returns the kindness to my love’s mother; whilst dear abandoned Gerty is only satisified sometimes by having both with her at once, yet neither of them ever divulges their amour with Fanny and myself. And now, how is the dear jewel, you surely don’t require the balsam to start with,’ she said, taking out my staff of life, and kissing it rapturously.
Lady Fanny did the same, and was followed by Gerty, whose ravishing manner of gamahuching me recalled so vividly my first seduction of her in the Temple.
She would have racked me off, but I restrained myself, and requested them to peel to the buff, setting them the example, my cock never for a moment losing his fine erection.
Having placed an eider down quilt and some pillows on the hearth rug, they ranged themselves in front of me in all their naked glories, like the goddesses before Paris disputing for the apple.
‘Catch which you can,’ they exclaimed, laughing, and began capering around me.
I dashed towards Mrs. Leveson, but tumbled over one of the pillows, getting my bottom most unmercifully slapped before I could recover myself. My blood tingled from head to foot, I was mad to be into one of those luscious loving women, and in a moment or two caught and pulled down Fanny on the top of me, the other two at once settled her, à la St. George, and held my prick till she was fairly impaled on it. They then stretched themselves at full length on either side, kissing me ardently, whilst their busy fingers played with prick and balls, as the darling Fanny got quickly into her stride, and rode me with the same fire and dash, which characterized her first performance on her brother’s bed in the Temple.
My hands were well employed frigging the creamy cunts of Mrs. Leveson and Gerty – what a fuck, how my prick swelled in his agony of delight, as I shot the hot boil
ing sperm right up to Fanny’s heart, and she deluged me in return with the essence of her life as she fell forward with a scream of delight. Her tightly nipping cunt held me enraptured by its loving contractions, but at the suggestion of Gerty, she gently rolled herself aside, and allowed me to mount the darling Leveson before I lost my stiffness.
What a deep-drawn sigh of delight, my fresh fuckstress gave, as she heaved up her buttocks and felt my charger rush up to the very extremity of her burning sheath.
‘Let me have the very uttermost bit of it! Keep him up to his work, Gerty, darling,’ she exclaimed, excitedly, then glueing her lips to mine she seemed as if she would suck my very life away.
A smart, tingling, swish – swish on my rump now aroused me to the fact that both Fanny and Gerty had taken in hand the flagellation, and gradually putting more force in their cuts, raised such a storm of lustful heat, that I fucked dear Mrs. Leveson, till after some minutes I spent in such an ecstatic agony of bliss, that both of us lost our consciousness for a time, and when we recovered ourselves, declared that no such exquisite sensations had ever before so completely overwhelmed either of us.
Such was the power of the rod to invigorate me, that Gerty soon had her cunt as well-stuffed as the others had been by my grand prick, as it seemed to be bigger and stiffer than ever.
This loving séance was kept up to the small hours of the morning before I could think of tearing myself from their seductive delights; but I now often join this community of love in the Cromwell-road, and no pen can by any possibility adequately describe the delights we manage to enjoy under the influence of the birch.
* First printed in 1884
THE FARMER’S DAUGHTER
My father was a gentleman farmer on a large scale, and took in gentlemen to teach farming. My mother was always very busy about the house and dairy, and I was but a girl. My cousin Johnny had been living with us for many years, and was my dearest friend, he was about a year older than I. We used to play about in the barns, woods and fields, with no one to look after us, and great was my grief when Johnny was sent to school and a governess kept for me.
Johnny returned for his summer holidays, and we had a high old time of it, he had grown as I thought, quite a man, and was so clever, but all the time was not a bit above playing and wandering over the farm with me, and my governess did not mind where I went as long as we were together.
One wet Sunday we took ourselves to the barn and lay on the straw, telling each other stories, and often kissing each other as of old, but soon Johnny began pulling up my frock, which rather frightened me, but he made me feel so funny with his fingers that I began to like it, and very soon he taught me to play with him, and once begun we rarely missed a day without doing it.
I did miss him so when he went back to school, but in a year or two it was arranged that he was not to live any more at our house, and I lost sight of him, but my blood was now fired, and longed for something I did not know what, and used to lay awake at night wishing for Johnny’s hand.
Now Johnny’s room used to be next to me, and there was an old ventilator between them, each side of which would take out, and we used to stand on a chair and talk through this, and often by taking my side out have I watched Johnny dressing when he did not know it.
Now about this time my father began to take in a farm pupil, his first being a Mr. Howard, and when I found he was to have Johnny’s room when he arrived, I was most impatient for his arrival. At last he arrived. He was not bad looking, rather delicate, and very dark hair and skin.
I got up very quietly and early the next morning, and watched him through all his tubbing and dressing. How different he was to Johnny, I saw a man’s weapon for the first time, true it was lying limp as he took his bath, but what a length, and covered with hair, whereas Johnny had none, I was mad with excitement and felt quite sick.
This went on for some mornings, but one warm morning he had been reading in bed as he usually did before getting up, when he suddenly threw the clothes off and pulled his night shirt up, and there behold was the weapon at its full stretch. He looked down on it from his high pillows, and pulling the weapon forward with his fingers let it spring back against his belly, which it did with a smack, and he did this several times with evident pride and pleasure; then he pulled the skin off the top, displaying a charming red top, and this he did slowly for a time, then I noticed a glassy look in his eyes. He took the whole of his weapon in his right hand, and with his left played with his large appendages, and this rubbing and playing evidently excited him, for he wriggled his legs about and sometimes rolled half on his side. At last he began to rub very quickly, his legs stretched out to the full length, and with a deep sigh, quite a quantity of white liquid shot all over the bed, and then he lay quiet for some time till it was time to dress.
I was fired to such a pitch that all the time I was rubbing my thighs together, and when all was over lay down on my bed quite faint, and at breakfast my mother noticed how poorly I looked. My governess had now been sent away, and I was to have another when one could be got.
After a time I got more accustomed to these manly sights, and Charles, as we called him, was liked by all of us, but he only treated me as a little girl.
One day my father and mother had started early after breakfast to the market, and I had gone up to my room for something, and Bessy I heard was making Mr. H’s bed, when I heard Mr. H go up to his room, and soon after Bessy saying in a severe tone, ‘Leave off, Mr. Howard, I will tell master. Leave off do. Get along with you. Oh! don’t, I will tell the Master, Mr. Howard, what are you doing?’
I jumped up to the ventilator, and saw the fat Bessy being dragged by the waist to the bed, and though she struggled it did not seem she was very keen to get away. Still she continued, ‘Oh! do leave off. I will tell on you, Oh! you wretch. Oh! do leave off.’ By that time Mr. H’s hand was up her clothes, and she on her back on the bed. ‘Oh! don’t, Oh! get up. Oh! you are crushing me. Oh! don’t, I really will tell. Oh! don’t, Oh! don’t, Oh!’ He had produced his weapon and was lying between her fat thighs, and at the last Oh, her legs clung round Mr. H’s, but still she went on, ‘Oh! don’t, please, please don’t Mr. H. Oh! Mr. Charles don’t, don’t, Oh! oh! don’t Mr. Charles. Oh! dear, Mr. Charles don’t. Oh! oh! oh! Charles, Oh! oh! oh! Charles darling, Oh …’
All this time she was wriggling her body in the most fetching manner, her fat strong arms pressing dear Charles closer to her. Her eyes half shut, and her face very red, and at the last few Oh’s her legs shot out their full length, at times her thighs opened wider, and ‘Charles darling’ worked quicker and harder, till at last a shudder went through both.
Bessy recovered herself first, saying, ‘Now give over and go downstairs at once, you have behaved shameful.’
I could not sleep for nights after this, and used to go over every detail, but what puzzled me most was why Bessy should have so much hair about her pussy and I none, and also how she could bear such a weapon in her, for I was sure I couldn’t.
I was lucky enough to witness two more combats like this, but in each case Bessy gave up without a struggle, and even seemed to assist in pulling up her own clothes, and directing the weapon.
But now I found, for I watched them carefully, that when it was Bessy’s Sunday out, she slipped into the old barn, and was quickly followed by Charles, and there they spent their afternoons.
So knowing there was a loft over the old stable where I kept my rabbits, and which was only separated from the barn by a wooden boarding, I soon had arranged a capital spy-hole, and found that these lovers, having the whole afternoon before them, used to commence with a deal of light-fingered play, a game Bessy used to make no secret of enjoying, and her contortions and sighs were enough to awaken the owls when Charlie’s fingers were at work, and when he got on her he used to go on until I thought he would never stop.
Sometimes she would entreat him to stop, but before then her fat legs had several times signalled the critical moment
, and by their wild beating of the air, and by the note of her Oh’s, I could count each throb of her warm little corner, and knew when the last mighty throb came, that brought down the shower, and made dear Charles’s weapon bound again, and the head swell inside her, ‘as big as a bullock’s heart,’ as she once graphically described it in my hearing.
All this did me no good. I longed for Charles to do the same to me, and pined for Johnny to share in the little game, but I dare not suggest anything, and Charles and Bessy always treated me as a child, though I was now growing up fast, and few could have known more or seen more for my age.
At last Mr. Charles left us for good, and poor Bessy was for a long time inconsolable, but quite by chance I heard a noise in the barn, sneaked up to my peep hole, and spied Miss Bessy preparing for action with Jack, the carter.
But what a different proceeding! Mr. Jack first ogled at Bessy, then produced his machine, a fearfully broad-backed, bullet-headed engine, and rather short, he rubbed it up a little, then spit on the top, I suppose to make it work easier.
Bessy all the time seated on the straw looking on, and then contented with his arrangements, Jack rolled on her, she lifting her clothes and opening wide her thighs, giving me a good view of her pouting parts.
Jack was not long getting into her, but he evidently hurt her, and was very rough, for she really cried out in pain at first, and did not seem to relish her first encounter, and after it was over, Jack sat beside her, put her hand on his weapon, and made her prepare it for the next, which she soon succeeded in doing; but the next encounter was a prolonged one, and I could see she thoroughly enjoyed it, poor Jack making fearful noises between his final short thrusts, and groaning out, ‘Eh! lass, eh! lass,’ and I never saw a more foolish countenance than his when all was over.
Fifty Shades of Victorian Desire Page 27