My Secret Life Vol-02 Chapter 13 to 21

[b]MY SECRET LIFE BY WALTER

VOLUME-2

CHAPTER XIII.

Fred on flat-fucking.—In town with Laura.—Back at the

school.—Pictures for young ladies.—Fred’s ankle.—Mrs.

Maria’s weakness.—To London alone.—Laura and Mabel.—Three

in a bed.—A risky poke.—Groping for the pot.—Nearly

caught.—Fred joins us.

When I awakened on Sunday, I thought I had been dreaming, the images of a dozen and more modest naked women passed through my brain. I could think of nothing else, waited at the gate to see the young ladies go off to church, and followed at a distance, walking with Mrs. Maria. I tried to guess from the backs of the ladies which was which, every now and then looked at Mrs. Maria, thinking of the hirsute charms of her cunt and arm-pits. At church in an old-fashioned square pew, I could see many of the young ladies’ faces, and looked at them during the whole service, thought at times that I mistook one for the other;—but no, although each had a bonnet on, and was in full dress, I recognized each face, recollected, bum, bubby, and motte of each. My well-frigged cock stood from Psalms to Sermon. I went to church in the afternoon, because a few pious girls liked two services. My cousins, and two other young ladies dined at the Reverend’s, it always was an early dinner, to let him get to church. In the evening I again went to church, because the servants went; and sat close to the two women who had played at flat-fucking. The astonishment of my aunt at my going to church three times was so great, that although I told her I went because I did not know what to do with myself, she wrote to my mother about it.

On Sunday night Fred returned. You may guess we saw on the Monday the morning bathings. I told him all excepting that his sister had come to bathe. “Did ——— and ——— come?” (naming her and cousin). “No.” He was satisfied. I told him about the two servants. Why I lied about my cousins I cannot think, but was half ashamed of looking at all, and it seemed more sinful to have seen my cousins than any one else.

Afterwards Fred told me that in India he kept three young girls all together in a bungalow; had bought them from their parents as virgins at about twenty shillings each. He was conversant with female life there, and explained how the women satisfied their leches with each other in harems, if they could not get men. His girls, he said, did it, and did it before him. I was amazed and wondered, and half thought him lying. All my knowledge of women extended to their relations with men, and although I had seen twice women on the top of each other, and seen one gamahuche another, I still regarded them as baudy tricks got up for my amusement; and had never realized the idea of women having leches for each other, as men have for frigging each other. The latter had indeed passed away from my mind as a boyish habit, no desire to feel a prick then entered my mind, I even disliked touching a man. So I heard what Fred told me, but remained incredulous, and was approaching middle-age before I realized the fact that frigging another fellow’s doodle was agreeable, and that some women find similar pleasures with their own sex. The flat-cocking of the two if they were at it, which I now don’t doubt, left no agreeable or voluptuous impression on me.

After breakfast having no shooting, Fred and I went to town to see our women. Five minutes after our arrival, both were being fucked. We found sitting with Mabel and Laura, the mistress of Lord A———, and will call her Lady A…. After we had pumped our sperm out, we all went into the sitting-room, Lady A…. was there still. Fred asked me what I had been doing, I asked him the same, there was a general warm talk without coarse language. Lady A…. told the girls they were lucky, for she had not seen Lord A…. for a month, and had not had anything done to her for that length of time.

Fred then went out, and returned in an hour. Taking me a side he showed me baudy engravings, which he meant to throw into the garden of the school, where the young ladies walked daily after breakfast if fine. I objected that his sister and cousin might find them. He did not care. “It will make them all so damned randy, that they won’t know whether their arses are at their backs or fronts.” This was all through my telling him what I had heard the two girls in the bathroom say to each other; and he actually that night got over the wall, into the pleasure-grounds, and laid the prints in a long building, half shed half summer-house. From his bed-room window we could see over the wall which separated the Reverend’s garden from the school-garden. I suggested sending them to a young lady by post. “No, she would keep them to herself.” I must mention that each lady had a separate bedroom; they were not allowed to go to each other’s bed-room, they met only at meals, or in the class-room, or drawing-room, or when out of doors. No,—the prints had better be seen by several, they would tell each other, and thus all see them. The idea of the girls seeing baudy pictures tickled us immensely. I had then wondered why the school-mistresses made it a rule that no lady should go into another’s bed-room, and once asked my female cousin. She said she did not know.

Directly after breakfast we saw the ladies in the garden, pulled down our blind, and peeped. “There is Carry,” said Fred laughing as his sister showed among them. We saw a group approach the spot, the next instant all their heads were close together, looking at something. Every now and then one would stealthily look up towards the house, then another would, as if they feared being seen. On being joined by two or three others, they all moved out of sight into the shed, and we saw no more.

Fred was delighted, he did nothing but suggest how such and such a one felt at that moment. “I dare say their cunts are as hot as fire, their thighs squeeze, their arses wriggle as they walk; they will all frig themselves to-night.”

Fred soon afterwards said he must go to town by the next train. I would go too. “I must go to so and so,” said he, “so can’t be with you much.” I resolved to stay. Going into the house I saw Mrs. Maria dressed, she was going to town. “I will walk with you,” said Fred, “to the station, we shall go up together.” Mrs. Maria went to London to make purchases, and do all the business for the school. Neither came back till the latest train; I was sitting smoking with the Reverend when his wife returned, she looked worn out. Soon afterwards in came Fred, who looked as if he had been out all night. Said he to Mrs. Maria in a surprised manner, “Have you only just returned?” “Yes,” said she in an innocent way. “We have both come by the same train then without knowing it,” he replied.

I don’t know what thoughts led to it, but the conviction came over me that he had seen Maria’s thighs closer than he did through the cracks in the bath-room partition. I noticed his manner next morning, saw him look at her, and she at him at breakfast, and said to myself, “He has fucked her.”

Next day we had shooting. At night Fred went to town. Next day Mrs. Maria went, and came home late, Fred not returning till the following morning. Mrs. Maria looked so tired that her husband noticed it. “She has had her belly-full again,” I said to myself. As she took her bath next morning (Fred not with me), she rubbed herself dry, put on her chemise, and felt her cunt; it was a prolonged feel. I told Fred of that. His remarks were evidently intended to mislead me.

We wanted to see the Saturday night bathing, though my aunt wanted to return home; but as we had shooting on Saturday, she consented to remain over Sunday. My cousins again dined with us at the Reverend’s, and two of my cousins’ special friends. What pleasure I had in looking at them, knowing the looks of their backs and bellies as well as their faces, wondering what they thought of the baudy pictures, at the way in which women continue to look so modest, talk softly, look in a man’s face, and keep a demure demeanor, even if lust be stinging their cunts. It is the training in hypocrisy, which is so large a part of female education.

On Friday Fred sprained his leg, on the Saturday it was too stiff to go out shooting. I did, and returned to dinner. Mrs. Maria had attended to him, her husband was at church nearly all Saturday, so perhaps she had rubbed a little higher than his ankle. My aunt spent all the time she could at the school, or walking out with her daughter and niece.

Fred’s sprain was an excuse for going to his bedroom whither I accompanied him. In the dusty closet Fred’s lameness was better. In came the young ladies, the younger ones first. It was a pretty sight, a decently voluptuous one, to see the dainty white-fleshed creatures throw off their dresses, and stand naked, one by one entering the bath, rub their flesh dry, and their cunt-wigs free from moisture; to see one with her bum towards you, rubbing her back vigorously with a towel pulled straight with both hands, whilst her bum-cheeks, loins, and thighs quivered with the motion and friction. Another put one leg on a chair whilst she rubbed her quim dry. Then came the servants. Again I recollect having my lust more stirred at seeing the fuller grown women strip, and stand with boots and stockings on; than at seeing the virgin ladies naked. I can’t account for this at all. I write exactly what I recollect.

When we saw Fred’s sister, he whispered that all his family had a good deal of hair on their privates. I saw his prick soon afterwards. He spoke as if he were intimately acquainted with the cunts and pricks of the whole family. The two young ladies who looked at each other’s privates did not do so again, the flat-fuckers took no pleasure in each other’s arms, they soaped each other’s backs, and helped to dry each other; both rubbed themselves in front of the fire,—a fine couple of women. “I want to piddle so,” said one just as she finished bathing. “Piddle in the bath,” said the other, “there is no one else going into it.” And she did so standing up, then jumped rapidly out, and they both laughed.

I have seen before and since through key-holes and peep-holes women and men wash, but it was with difficulty. Here all was fairly clear. The crevice admitted enough sight, to distinguish form, face, feature, and colour of hair and eyes. I thought of it for years, but never told a man. Oftentimes when fucking, the bathing spectacle came into my mind, and fetched my sperm out of me in a moment.

The next morning we jabbed a few more holes between other boards, so as to make it look as if the shrinking of the wood had cracked the paper in more than one place, carefully closed the door and dipped the heads of the screws in vinegar to darken them. The whole looked rusty, and as we hoped when we had done no one would ever guess the game we had been up to. We swept up dust from the carpet, and pushed it under the bottom of the door, and I think our prank never was known. The old house is pulled down now.

I went to church again for the pleasure of staring at the ladies, it was rapture to look at them, and think of their virgin cunts, think they had seen the baudy prints. My cousin Fred had gone out somewhere, Mrs. Maria, who usually went to church with her husband, was ill. In the middle of the service a thought came into my head. Feeling sure that Fred was after the middle-aged plump lady, I left the church, and went back, knocked at the door twice before it was opened, and then by Mrs. Maria. Said she, “I let both servants go out.” She told me this without my asking her anything, her hair seemed a little rough, her manner excited. I sat down, told her I had felt faint, and had a cholic in church, and so had come home. “Fred has been unwell too,” said she. “Indeed?—I thought he was out.” “He returned, and has been in bed this hour.” “Oh!” said I. It was clear to me why her hair was rough. Fred was abed, but awake. Had Mrs. Maria been fucked on that bed?

My aunt and I left the next day, and went to the Manor-House; Fred to my astonishment could not get out of bed, so bad was his sprain; so we left him there. At the Hall I got so lewd that I went up to London, and rushed to Laura’s lodgings the next night.

“Both abed sir,” said the servant who let me in. Finding no one in Mabel’s room, I went down to the first floor. The women were in bed together. Laura opened the door to me, and got into bed again in the dark; for company sake they slept together when we men were both away, she said.

Lewd with prolonged chastity, the two servants in the bath-room ran in my mind as I sat chatting in the dark room. After having slipped my hand under the clothing on to Mabel’s cunt, “Have you been amusing each other?—which was man, which woman?” were questions put and answered with real or assumed ignorance, but with some giggling. Laura as I have said never allowed a baudy word, so I ceased; and Laura I suppose savage at Mabel having all the groping to herself, said, “You go first, and warm the bed, and Mabel will come up to you.” “No, you go and warm it for me Mabel.” “I won’t.” “Then I won’t.” Mabel seemed to me thick in speech, muddled in manner, and half asleep.

I fetched my candle. The women looked so fresh and handsome. “I’ll sleep with you both,” said I beginning to undress.

A slight altercation,—what would Fred say?—the servants think?—no she would not permit it,—she knew the games we should be up to. Mabel said, “No,—no, it wouldn’t do.” The more they said no, the quicker I undressed, and with prick lifting up my shirt, forced myself into bed, by the side of Mabel. Laura jumped out the other side, her white legs showing half-way up her thighs as she did so.

She stood by the bed-side wrangling, and looking at me as randy as possible, spite of herself. I should not stay,—she would not go to bed. “Well my dear Laura, go up to our bed.” “I shant.” Tired of standing in the cold she said, “Well will you promise to keep quiet?” “Perfectly.” “Come on,” said Mabel, “Fred won’t know.” So putting out the light into bed got Laura. Perhaps she thought she would like on the quiet to hear the amatory talk of Mabel and myself,—hear if she could not see or feel our tricks,—who knows?

“Turn your back to Mabel,—go to sleep Laura,—now you won’t see or hear.” “You know your promise,—don’t you let him Mabel.” “How can I help it?” said Mabel in a muddled manner. “You are a couple of dirty beasts,” said Laura turning her rump towards us. We heeded not, for we were fucking. Laura spoke not another word, she lay as if asleep. Then I fell fast asleep on the edge of the bed cuddling Mabel. It was close packing.

I awakened cold on one side, hot on the other next Mabel, who lay snoring profoundly. The regular breathing of Laura told me she was asleep. My prick was stiff, and as I thought of the two women by the side of me, it got ungovernable.

“How I should like a put into Laura,” I thought, but had a high sense of honor, and checked the desire. “What, Fred’s woman?—for shame Walter.—Well (reflecting) he took my two women in the country.—Yes,” replied my conscience, “but nothing made them yours,—not completely at least, one had had another man, but Laura is his woman, his temporary wife, he is fond of her, he keeps her.” But my prick kept throbbing with desire to be up her.

I thought of Fred’s de***********ion of the thick hair on her cunt, of the quickness with which she pissed, of all he had foolishly told me of her perfections, until my brain whirled. “There can’t be any harm in just feeling her flesh,—no one will know.” I could only guess where she was in the darkness; but carefully stretching my hand over Mabel quite slowly, it touched a bunch of night-gown, and then warm flesh. She was lying on her back, Mabel had her rump towards her. I raised myself gently up to feel further, touched the hips, the thighs, then the smooth belly, further on, and my hand laid in the thick hair of her cunt.

Up to that time I had my reason, could reflect, pause, control myself; the woman of any friend of mine was safe from attack from me, but I had had a fancy that there had been once or twice in Laura’s look and manner towards me, a slight gleam of desire; yet the idea of having her never had entered my head, I should have chased it instantly. But from the moment my hand lighted on the crisp thicket, reason left me, voluptuous desire overwhelmed me: I forgot Fred, almost forgot Mabel.

Slowly, inch by inch, I moved myself half up and my arm over Mabel as she lay, fearing it would wake her, and slid my finger down between Laura’s cunt-lips, and gently frigged, listening to Mabel’s snoring, and Laura’s breathing. At length I must have produced a voluptuous sensation, she got restless, and opened her thighs, moved, clasped my hand, and in a peevish sleepy tone said, “Don’t Mabel,—what are you doing?”

“It’s I”; I whispered frigging on. “Oh!” said she pushing my hand away. “Oh! if you wake Mabel.” She kept repulsing my hand saying “don’t,” I replacing it. My hand frigging her clitoris.

She turned her backside towards Mabel, I then fumbled between her bum-cheeks; but she was too far off. Slowly I got out of bed, and feeling my way round the foot in the dark, I got to Laura’s side. She heard me. I put my mouth to her ear, “Let me dear,” and thrusting my hand under the clothes felt her cunt from motte to bum-hole. “Oh! no, if Mabel—” Mabel’s snoring reassured me. Little by little I uncovered her, lifting off the clothes, got on to her, up her, and without a word, without a whisper, without resistance or denial we fucked gently, pausing at intervals to listen, hiding our emotions and pleasures as we spent, Laura’s flanks and my hand close to Mabel’s rump, my leg almost touching Mabel’s leg, she still snoring like a pig.

“Go,” said Laura, her mouth to my ear, and un-cunting me. Quietly, without reply, I got off, and back again crept stealthily to Mabel’s side, and at the very moment that I was lifting the bed-clothes Mabel awoke, and said directly, “what are you getting up for?—where are you going?”

I was for a moment at my wits’ end. “Where is the pot?” said I. “Under the bed,” said Mabel. “Laura!” Laura did not answer, and breathed heavily. I pissed, and got into bed. It was a close fit. Mabel took hold of my prick. “It’s wet,” said she drowsily. Down went my hand, the hairs were wet and sticky. Mabel was too sleepy to notice what the wet was, yet I feared. “Turn on your back dear,” said I. She did. I got on her, and put my prick in though not stiff. “Don’t,—I’m tired,—wait till morning,—get off, Laura will hear.” “Here is a lark,” thought I, and got off her, turning my bum towards Mabel’s belly, as the best way to economize room, and I was soon asleep again. She snored off instantly.

Excitement wakened me early. The house was quiet, it was quite dark, we all three talked. Laura laid sulking, I reminded her of Fred’s remark at Vauxhall about her pissing quickly; that only made her sulkier. At length upstairs I went with Mabel to our bed-room, to prevent the servants knowing anything. When we came down to breakfast, Laura and I looked at each other hard. When I got a chance of speaking to her privately, she would not hear the deed alluded to; reminded me that Fred was my cousin, and a good fellow. After that I never spoke to her on the subject for weeks, I felt ashamed of myself; but for all that my cock would often tingle, and raise its head when I looked at her. One day there she being alone, we fell talking about that night. I had never known her so warm; we wondered Mabel had not heard. “And the hair of my prick was wet with our spending Laura.” “No it was yours.” “No yours.” “Let’s try again.” She rushed out of the room.

The night after poking Laura I took them to the play, at supper Mabel drinking rather freely, Laura said that she had better not take as much as she had the last night. Then I found she had lushed rather freely, which accounted for her sleeping so soundly. She had a strong liking for liquors of all sorts.

A day or two afterwards Fred arrived, looking as if his prick had never left a cunt for a month. I asked him how Mrs. Maria was, he laughed, and repeated that he should not mind having her; but said no more. Soon after we went back to the country, to spend Christmas at my aunt’s. My mother, Tom, and one of my sisters also came. They were much in my way.

For brevity I compress the events of the next few months; it is a pity, but it would print to three the length otherwise. Briefly I was obliged to get back once or twice to my aunt’s to see Pender privately, though I did not want to have her. I was mostly in London. One or two funny whoring incidents I must leave out altogether, and for the same reason: brevity.

CHAPTER XIV.

My cousin at home.—Pender’s belly.—A lawyer’s letter.—Action for crim-con threatened.—Suspicions.—A compensation.—The Penders leave.—Wholesale whorings.—A frolic at Lord A…’s.—After dinner.—Newspaper readings.—A strange rape.—Bets on pricks.—Pricks felt.—Fred on his head.—Beds on the floor.—Free fucking.—End of the orgie.

My cousin came home from school, and when dancing or talking with her, I used to think of the look of her bum. One young lady from the school whose posteriors I also knew came to stay. Fred and I used to laugh about the adventure, and about his sister and cousin as much as about the others.

Mrs. Pender’s belly was like a mountain, her husband I fancied scowled at me. Mrs. P. looked scared, and whisking past me in the farm-yard one day with a milk-pail, said in a low voice as she passed, “For God’s sake keep away,” and I did, feeling uneasy, In cold weather my aunt ceased to go to the farm-yard, our own shooting was over, and I had no reason for crossing the farm-yard; but at the end of a week my cock was so much in want of amusement, that I made up my mind to have a poke up Pender if I could, and way-laid her in the shrubbery-walk. She told me that on a particular day her man would go some distance to buy cattle, and she would try to meet me in the barn. Chance favored us, we fucked, and talked at intervals for two or three hours, she having a poke, then going out for a time, coming back again, and so on.

I heard that her husband suspected her and me, he was sure it was not his child. Some one had seen me and her together in the lane, he would not say who. Said Mrs. P., “I don’t know what, but I am sure he is up to something bad to you or me, and I live in a fright; I can scarcely eat, drink, or sleep for thinking about what’s to happen.”

About a month after this, I received a letter from a lawyer in London saying he wished to see me. I went, and found that he was instructed to bring an action against me for seducing Mrs. Pender. I denied all, but it was of no use. I at once went to my solicitor, who after a time feared the case could be proved against me. The action would be brought for damages (there was no divorce possible then), and there would be the scandal, the annoyance to my aunt, and the horror of my mother. The only chance of getting a word with Mrs. P. was way-laying her in the laurel-walk. When I saw her she looked the picture of misery, her husband had refused to sleep in the same bed with her. At about five o’clock one evening, it being quite dark, she had given me a signal during the day, I went to the privy. There I fucked her, she said how utterly miserable she was, and asked me to take her away. Uprighters were never to my taste, and now her big belly made it far from pleasurable. I got worried, and at length after much legal annoyance, agreed to give five hundred pounds, on condition that I had a letter from Pender saying that he was very sorry for what he had done, that he was convinced he had made a mistake, and was then sure of his wife’s fidelity, or something to that effect.

Before this was quite settled, Mr. Pender got leave of absence, and went away somewhere. My solicitor asked me whether I had any reason to suspect that Mrs. P. had told her husband. Immediately I became savagely suspicious, went to the cottage under pretense of asking for Pender himself, although I knew he was away, and insisted she should meet me at the town. I thought of nothing until we met, but how I should entrap her into a confession, and worked myself up into a belief that the couple were making a market of me.

She undressed, I caressed her, with hand on her cunt, looked at her and said, “Your husband means to make a fortune out of me.” “What he,—ho, ho, ho,” she cried, “the wretch,—oh! I shall be exposed,—ho, ho,” and was as white as a sheet. When she got better, I told her all, she knew nothing about what her husband had done, and begged I would pay nothing,—she would drown herself.—and I left, convinced that the poor woman was true to me.

Pender gave notice to leave, and forfeiting wages left his place, and went to the North of England. Months afterwards I received a scrawl saying that the child was exactly like me, that P. was not unkind, but she was unhappy, would like to see me; and if I wished it she would run away, and be as good as a wife to me. There was no name or address to it, and I never heard of her afterwards.

I thought all settled, and that no one would know about it; but for all that it leaked out. Months afterwards being at my aunt’s, I got into one of her servants, and after giving her a good fucking one night, and telling her after a fuck not to wash, she said, “I don’t want you to get me in the family way like Mrs. Pender.” She had heard that. How the devil did it leak out?

After Christmas Fred and I went to see our women, he wanted more than I did. I had some harlotting; not being at all faithful to Mabel, I had fits of great incontinence, and as many as three different women on the same day, at times.

Exceedingly nice women were then to be met in the Quadrant from eleven to one in the morning, and three till five in the afternoon. I would have one before luncheon, get another after luncheon, dine, and have a third woman. I would at other times go under the Opera colonade, where they used to assemble in the summer evenings with low dresses showing shoulders and breasts; to see them, even if I did not want a fuck. I had an insatiable desire to look at their nudity, would strip them, make them piss, feel them all over, leave, and in an hour perhaps have another. I had no leches for fancy postures. To see their thighs and cunts in free but graceful attitudes was sufficient pleasure. During this time the following occurred.

An intimate friend of Fred’s was Lord A——-he lived with a lady who was called Lady A…. I don’t think she had been gay, and in that respect resembled Laura and Mabel. The three women were much together. We often saw Lord A…., and all became friends. Lord A…. was not very true to his lady. He lived in B.t.n street, where he had at that time the whole of a handsomely furnished house, but only could half occupy it. His indoor servants were a middle-aged woman who cooked, a maid who was her niece, and his valet, who waited at table as well. A woman who did not sleep in the house came daily. He had grooms and a coachman, but not in the house. Lord A…. had quarrelled with his father. He had been in the Guards, and drank very freely.

He invited us one night to dinner, and gave a splendid one. By the time we had finished, we were all noisy. It was never our custom to use baudy language when in each other’s company. Laura had a great aversion to it. Mabel liked me to talk baudy to her, but did not talk it herself. Fred always after dinner would let out a warm word or so, and was at once snubbed by Laura. For all that our conversation after dinner was generally warm with double entente.

On the night in question our conversation got to open voluptuousness. Fred and Lord A…. went in for it, Mabel laughed, Laura hished and hished, said she would leave, but at last gave way, as did Lady A….; then we men got to lewdness. Whenever any sensuous allusion was made, my eyes sought Laura’s, hers seeking mine; we were both thinking of the quiet and quick fuck we had, with Mabel snoring by our side. We compared our thoughts on that night, but at a future day.

Just at that time a case filled the public journals. It was a charge of rape on a married woman, against a man lodging in the same house. She was the wife of a printer on the staff of a daily paper, who came home extremely late; she always went to be leaving her door unlocked, so that her husband might get in directly he came home. The lodger was a friend of her husband’s, and knew the custom of leaving the door unlocked,—in fact he was a fellow-printer.

She awakened in the night with the man between her thighs, had opened them readily, thinking it was her husband. It appears to have been her habit, and such her husband’s custom on returning home, or so she said. The lodger had actually all but finished his fuck, before she awakened sufficiently to find out that it was not the legitimate prick which was probing her. Then she alarmed the house, and gave the man in charge for committing a rape. The papers delicately hinted that the operation was complete before the woman discovered the mistake,—but of course it left much to the reader’s imagination.

Fred read this aloud. I knew more, for the counsel of the prisoner was my intimate friend. He had told me that the prisoner had had her twice, that she had spent with him; that he had often said he meant to go in, and have her, that she had dared him to do it, and that she only made a row when she thought she heard her husband at the door on the landing, although it was two hours before his usual time of return. His prick was in her when she began her outcry.

With laughter and smutty allusions we discussed the case. “Absurd,” said Laura, “she must have known it was not her husband.” “Why?” “Why because—,” and Laura stopped. “If you were asleep, and suddenly felt a man on you of about my size, and his prick up you, very likely you would not tell if it were mine or not,” said Fred. Laura threw an apple at his head. Decency was banished from that moment, a spade was called a spade, and unveiled baudiness reigned.

“I should know if it were not you,” said Lady A… looking at Lord A… “How?” “Ah! I should,—should you not know another woman from Laura, if you got into bed with two women in the dark?” said she to Fred. “I am not sure for the moment if with a woman just her size, and as much hair on her cunt,” said he. “I tell you what Fred, I won’t have it,” said Laura ill-tempered, “talk about some one else, I won’t have beastly talk about me.” “I’ll bet,” said I, “that if the ladies were to feel our pricks in the dark, they would not tell whose they each had hold of.” Roars of laughter followed. “I should like to try,” said Mabel. “So would I,” said another. “Would you know, if you felt us?” said one women. “If I felt all your cunts in the dark, I’ll bet I should know Marie’s,” said Lord A…. “That is if you felt all round and about,” said Fred, “but not if she opened her legs, and you only felt the notch.” “I think I should.”

“Why?—is she different from others?” Lord A——

was going to say something, when Marie told him to shut up.

So we went on, the men in lascivious language, the women in more disguised terms, discussing the probabilities of distinguishing cunts or pricks by a simple feel in the dark. Each remark caused roars of laughter, the women whispered to each other, and laughed at their own sayings. Lewdness had seized us all, the women’s eyes were brilliant with voluptuous desire. More wine was drunk, “Call it by its proper name,” said Lord A…. when Marie remarked that a woman must know her own man’s thing. “Prick then.” “I will bet five pounds that Mabel would not guess my prick in the dark, if she felt all of us,” said I. “And I’ll bet,” said another. “Shall we try?” said Fred. “Yes,” said Mabel more fuddled than the rest. Baudier and baudier, we talked, laughed, and drank, and at length set to work to make rules for trying, all talking at once.

One proposed one way, one another. “I can’t tell unless I feel balls as well,” said a woman. “Will they be stiff when we feel?” said another. “Mine will,” said Fred, “it’s stiff already.” “So is mine,” added I.

“How shall we know where to put our hands, if we are in the dark?” said Lady A…. “If a man is in front of you, you will find it fast enough,” answered some one. Laura had now yielded to the baudy contagion, and made no objection, though Mabel and Lady A…. were the most forward. Then Lord A… rang the bell, and told his valet he might go out for the night, and his house-keeper and maid they might go to bed, which they did at the top of the house, as we supposed. The sequel proved that to be doubtful, and that they must have had a most edifying night.

After lewd squabbles, we arranged that each man was to give the woman if she guessed the prick right, ten pounds; the men were to be naked, the women to feel all the men’s cocks, and give a card to him whose prick she thought she knew. The room was to be dark. No man was to speak, or give any indication by laughing, coughing, or any other way, under penalty of paying all the bets. The women were to lose if they spoke, or gave indications of who they were.

I took three cards, and wrote the name of a lady on each of them. Then each lady took her card, and they went upstairs to the bed-room pell-mell and laughing. The women were to stand of a row in a certain order against a side of the room, we to follow in an order they did not know. They were to feel all pricks twice, each giving her card to the man at the second feel, if she knew the prick. We undressed to our shirts, took off our rings, so as to leave no indications, and in that condition entered the room. The dining-room door we closed, there was no light on the first-floor lobby, nor in the bed-room, for we had put out the fire there. So holding each other by the shoulder, we entered, closed the door, and we were all in the room together in the dark.

We lifted our shirts, and closed on the women, each of whom in her turn felt our pricks. One felt mine as if she meant to pull it off. On the second feeling, we got somehow mixed, a slight tittering of women began, some one hished, and the tittering ceased. Two hands touched me at the same time, but one withdrew directly she touched the other’s hand. A card was put into my hand, afterwards another card touched me, and was withdrawn. After waiting a minute I nudged the man next me. “Have you all given cards?” shouted out the man. “Yes,” shouted the three women at once. Then we all burst out laughing, and the men went downstairs, leaving the women all talking at once like Bedlam broke loose.

Looking at our cards, we found that each women had guessed rightly her man’s prick; but we changed our cards, and called out to the women who came rushing down like mad. “Not one of you has guessed right,” said I, “you have all lost your bets.” “I’ll swear I’m right,” said Lady A…, “it’s Adolphus that I gave my card to.” This set us all questioning at once. “What makes you so sure?” “She says it’s very long and thin,” said Mabel, “and so it is.” “Hold your tongue,” said Marie. “I felt it,” said Mabel. “They all seemed the same to me,” said Laura, “and one of you pushed my hand away.” “It was I,” said Fred, “you wanted to feel too much, you nearly frigged me,” “Oh! what a lie.” Then we told the truth, and that each women had won, which caused much noisy satisfaction, then we had more wine, we men still with naked legs.

I have told all I can recollect with exactitude, but there was lots more said and done. Fred pulled up Lord A…’s shirt, his cock was not stiff. “That’s not as it was when I felt it,” said Mabel. “You’ve guessed pricks, but for all that you would not know who fucked you in the dark.” “We should,” cried out all the women. “Let’s try,” said Lord A… “All right,” said Mabel. “We are not prostitutes,” said Laura. “A little free fucking will be jolly, let’s take turns about all round,” said Fred. Then the room resounded with our laughter, all spoke baudily at once, every second, “prick,” “cunt,” “fuck,” was heard from both men and women,—it was a perfect Babel of lasciviousness.

“I’ll bet ten pounds a women doesn’t guess who fucks her,” said Lord A… We echoed him. The women laughed, but led by Laura refused, and squabbled. All wanted the bet to come off, but did not like to admit it. We had more champagne, the men put on their trousers, we kissed all round, and talked over the way of deciding such a bet, the women got randier, one showed her leg to another, and at length all the women agreed to take part in the orgie.

The rest I shall tell as truthfully as I can. The drink and excitement I was under makes it difficult; but I will tell nothing I am not quite sure of. We arranged a plan with such noise and talking, that God knows how it was arranged at all. Where were we to poke?—in the bed-room? Impossible, there was but one large bed in Lady A… ‘s room, and one in the back-room.

How were we to fuck all together? We all rushed upstairs, took all the beds and pillows from both rooms, and from the upper rooms, and put them on the floor in the large room, making one long bed, after moving aside the furniture. The fire had been put out. All this was done with shouts and yells, a fearful lascivious riot.

The women were to lie down in an order known to us, Lady A… nearest to the door, and so on. There was to be absolute silence. Each man as he knelt between the woman’s legs was to put a card with a number on it under her pillow. We men knew which number each had, the women were not to know which man was to have her, directly we had fucked we were to return, each woman was to produce her card, and guess who had been up her, they were to be in their chemises, we in our shirts. I never shall forget the looks of the women as they went upstairs to arrange themselves for the fucking, but think that they scarcely knew the rules of what they were to do.

The women undressed quickly enough, for we had scarcely had time to tie up our faces in napkins to prevent our whiskers being noticed (Lord A…. had none), before a voice shouted out, “We are ready.” Then with shirts on only, up we men went. I only recollect kneeling down between Lady A… ‘s legs (we had agreed among ourselves how to change our women), giving a card, feeling a cunt, and putting my prick into it, then hearing the rustling of limbs, hard breathing, sighing, and moans of pleasure of the couples fucking fast and furiously; of my brain whirling, of a maddening sensuality delighting me as I clasped the buttocks of Lady A…, and fucked her.

We must have spent nearly all together, none when we compared after, recollected more than his own performance. All were quiet. I was feeling round my prick which was still in Lady A… ‘s cunt, when a light flashed powerfully through the room. That devil Fred had risen, and lighted several lucifers, which then was done by dipping them in a bottle,—they were expensive. What a sight was disclosed at a glance!

All three women lay with chemises up to their navels, Lady A… on her back, I on the top of her (rising rapidly at the light). Next to her Mabel seemingly asleep with thighs wide open. Fred kneeling between them, holding the lighted matches, Laura on her back with open thighs, eyes closed, Lord A… cuddling, but nearly off of her by her side, and his prick laying on her thigh. The women shrieked, and began pulling down their chemises. I swore at Fred, the women joined chorus. “Most ungentlemanly,” said Laura getting up. That got up Lord A… Mabel lay still on her back as if ready to be stroked again. But all was said. In a minute the lucifers burnt out, and it was dark again. Scuffling up we men went downstairs, leaving the women chattering. Soon after down they came, looking screwed, lewd, and annoyed that the bets were off, and all chattering at once.

Mabel was quarrelsome. “You,” said she turning to Lady A…, “said that your husband’s thing was long and thin, you tried to mislead me in the bet, you wanted to make me lose.” They had evidently been discussing their men’s pricks.

“So you have been telling how each of us fucks,” said Fred. Laura denied it. “We did,” said Mabel. “It’s a lie Mabel, if you say it again, I’ll tell something more than you will like to hear about yourself.” Mabel retorted, Lady A… chimed in. It was a Babel of quarrelsome lewd women, with their cunts full.

I feared a row, and that Mabel might after all know more about my having had Laura, the night we all three slept in the same bed, than I cared for; so I pacified them. Fred said we had better try again, Laura objected. “Oh! yes Mrs. Modest,” said Mabel, “when you found it was not Fred, why didn’t you cry out?” “I didn’t know,” said Laura. “Ah! ah! the printer’s wife,” we shouted, then more baudy talk, recriminations, and squabbling. Laura said she should go home, Fred said she might go by herself. Lord A… who had half fallen asleep, said it was too late, and we had better stop. Some one said we could soon again make the beds comfortable in the upper rooms. “That be damned,” said Fred, “we will all sleep on the floor as they are now.” “Free fucking for ever,” said I. Laura said I was a blackguard, Mabel said she should like it, Lady A… said she didn’t care, if Adolphus didn’t, Adolphus said any cunt would suit him. He was reeling drunk as he spoke.

All this time we were in shirts and chemises. One woman had thrown a shawl over her, one a petticoat, but their breasts flashed out, their arms were naked, their legs showing to their knees, the men were naked to their knees in their shirts. The scene was exciting, the women hadn’t washed their cunts, Fred said so. Mabel asked him if he was sure of it. No, he would feel. Laura told him he must be drunk, and was a beast. “Drunk?” said he, “look here.” He turned a sommersault, and stood on his hands and head, his heels against the wall, his backside in the air, his prick and cods falling downwards over his belly, his shirt over his head. Lady A… took up a bunch of grapes, and dashed it on his ballocks. Then we chased the women round the room, tried to feel them, and they us. It was like hell broke loose, till we agreed to sleep on the floor together, any how.

No lights; lights and piss-pots were put in the back bed-room,—a woman suggested that. “You’re frightened of farting,” said some one. The women went up to make the beds more comfortable, whilst we men fetched candles from the kitchen, the others being well nigh burned out. The women had washed their cunts, we had more wine, and then we all were pretty well screwed, and Lord A… pretty drunk when we went up to them.

Up to that time I was sufficiently sober to know all I have written, and plenty more. Surely I could tell a lot more of our conversation, but it would prolong the tale too much. After the last bottle of champagne I was groggy, recollect less clearly, was in a half-sleepy, feverish, excited, and baudy state, my sleep was broken by others, but when awake my prick stood immediately, and I moved all night from one woman to another, fucking, and then dozing.

To satisfy Laura, and keep up a sort of appearance, we had said we would only have our own women, who were again to lay in a certain order. Directly they had left the room, we agreed to change. A… doggedly insisted in having Mabel, so I was to take Laura, and Fred Lady A… It was such a lark. My prick was up Laura, when she cried, “It’s not you Fred.” Then were simultaneous exclamations, “I’m not Mabel,”—”What a lovely cunt!”—”Leave me alone,”—”Feel my big prick,” “Damn, a cunt’s a cunt,” hiccupped Lord A… “Oh!—ah!”—”Ha! my love fuck,—my darling, oh!”—kiss, kiss,—spending,—”Aha!”—sighs of delight, “cunt,”—”fuck,”—”oh!”—”ah! ah!” And I fell asleep on Laura amidst this.

Awake again. By my side a wet cunt, a heavy sleeper. Turning round, my legs met naked legs. I stretched out my hand, and felt a prick, perhaps Fred’s, I don’t know. Getting up I felt my way stumbling over legs to the wall to the furthest woman, and laid myself on her. “Don’t Adolphus, I’m so sleepy,” said she. The next instant we were fucking. Others awakened. “Where are you?” said some one. Then all moved, one man swore, a hand felt my balls from behind. I was spending, and rolled off the lady; turning my bum to her. Then I touched Mabel, and put my hand on her cunt. A man dropped on her, and touched my hand with his prick. Ejaculations burst out on all sides, the couples were meeting again, then all was quiet, and the fucking done. Then all talked. All modesty was gone, both men and women told their sensations and wants, “You fuck me,—Feel me.—No, I want so and so,” Laura as lewd as the rest.

Again awaking. A hand was feeling my prick. “Is it you Laura?” “Yes.” I felt her cunt. “Oh! let me go and piddle.” But I turned on to her, and we fucked. “How wet your cunt is.” “No wonder.”

Again I awakened, some one got up, and fell down. “Hulloa! who is that?” “I want to piss, and can’t get up,” said Lord A… in a drunken voice. Some one opened the door, a feeble light came across from the back room, we helped him up and he stumbled along with us men to piss. Then he insisted on going downstairs. He could scarcely stand, so we helped him to the dining-room, we lighted more candles, he swilled more wine, tumbled on to the sofa, where we left him drunk and snoring, and found him snoring the next morning with the heath-rug over him. We two went back to the women. “I’ve fucked all three,” said Fred. “So have I.” “Laura’s a damned fine fuck, ain’t she?” Some one shut the room-door opposite, as we reached the landing. We pushed it open. Two ladies were pissing: Marie and Laura. “Where is Mabel?” “Drunk,” replied one. The two were past caring for anything, pissed and went back with us to the bed-room. I took a light there. Mabel was on her back nearly naked, we covered her up, for it was cold. Then I fucked Laura, and Fred Lady A… The light we left now on the wash-hand stand, as we looked at each other fucking and enjoyed it, and then we changed women. There was no cunt-washing, we fucked in each other’s sperm, no one cared, all liked it, all were screwed, baudy, reckless, Mabel snoring.

I awakened after a heavy sleep, chilly, feverish, headaching, and thirsty. I drew aside the curtains; it was late, light, but foggy; a nasty winter’s morning. Fred and the three ladies lay snoring, some covered, others partially so, the floor looking as if every article of bed-furniture had been thrown down with a pitchfork. I drank water, and fucked out as I was, my lubricity was unsatiated. I could not resist gratifying it.

Moving stealthily I uncovered the sleepers one by one. It was easy enough, as the clothes lay loose and in shapeless heaps. I saw Fred’s prick touching Mabel’s haunch, contemplated Laura’s thick-haired quim, saw spunk on her chemise. She looked lovely. Lady A… on her back, her hand over her cunt, red stains about her, and on the sheet which I pulled off of her,—her poorliness had come on. Mabel on her back looked ready for a man. My cock stiffened, I laid myself on Laura, and awakened her. That awakened Fred who mounted Mabel. Both couples took to the exercise in the foggy day-light, and a long time we were in consummating. “Oh! do leave off,” said Laura, “I’m so sore.” My prick was excoriated, it had not been so for many a day.

Never have I been in such an orgie before, never since, and perhaps never shall be; but it was one of the most delicious nights I ever spent. So said Fred, so said Mabel; and Laura admitted to me at a future day that she thought the same, and that since, when she frigged herself, she always thought of it, and nothing else.

I thought of nothing else for a long time. Nothing has ever yet fixed itself in my mind so vividly, so enduringly, except my doings with my first woman, Charlotte. At the beginning of my writing these memoirs, this was among the first described. The narrative as then written was double its present length, and I am sorry that I have abbreviated it, for the occurrences as I correct this proof seem to come on too quickly. Whereas we dined at seven o’clock, and it was one o’clock I guess before we all went to bed together, and the stages from simple voluptuousness to riotous baudiness and free-fucking were gradual. At eight o’clock not one of us would have dared to think of, still less to suggest, what we all did freely at midnight.

CHAPTER XV.

Morning headaches.—An indignant housekeeper.—A saucy

valet.—Consequences.—Fred leaves England.—Lady A…’s

invitation.—Laura a widow.—Farewell Laura.—Adieu Mabel.—

My guardian’s remonstrances.—Parental advice.—Ruined.—

Reflexions.—My relations.

With headaches, heated, irritable, thirsty, worn out, we arose; the men quiet, the women quarrelsome.