A labouring man came along in the opposite direction. Seeing the barrow he stood and looked round in all directions, turned into the mews, and I think he was going to steal, but thought better of it. I had peeped quite round the board, but had dropped into the old place again, the man turned to the wall, and pissed just under me, his head turned, and looking at the clothes-baskets all the time, then he drew the fore-skin fackwards and forwards when he had finished, till his prick was standing, an article any man might have been proud of; he played with it, and might have been going to frig himself had he not been interrupted.
The girls came back round the corner just then still wrangling, they stopped as they came on the man, who turning round shook his tooleywag at them, and moved out of sight, but not out of my hearing. “This is the sort of thing that would please you”, said he wagging it. “Go along you beast, I'll call a policeman.” “You wouldn't call out if it was up your cunt”, — and he walked off laughing. The girls were quiet for an instant, and then laughed. “Hish !” said one, “he is not gone.” The other looked round the corner, and said he had; then they laughed loudly.
“Was it not big!” “Did you see it?” “Yes, and stiff, — ha — ha — ha.” “He — he — he.” “It looked as if it would split any one”, said the little one who sat down on the barrow-handle again. “Sarah says the bigger it is the better it is”, said the other, and then they laughed. “Hush !” said the bigger one, “some one may hear us.” Turning her rump to the wall she pissed just where the man had. The little one did the same, then off they went, one trundling, the other holding the baskets steady. They took the heavy work in turns I found.
I rushed to the house, then out, and followed the girls, a desire to show them my prick was on me. As I followed my intentions cooled, fearing they might tell a policeman. I had not the experience then that I now have, or should have feared nothing of the sort, for girls tell no one but each other if they see a man's prick. I overtook them in the church-yard (they were resting again on the barrow-handles), and entered into conversation with them, delighted at their demure faces, knowing that they had just seen a prick, that one had said “fuck”, and that I had seen both piss. A notion of getting the younger one by herself restrained me from blurting out what was in my mind, but my delight really was in looking at, and talking with them, thinking that fucking might and probably was in their mind at the moment I accosted them.
They were coarse, middle-sized, well-fed, sturdy-limbed, dark-eyed wenches, unmistakeably sisters. Excepting for one being shorter than the other you would scarcely have known there was a difference in their ages; both had bare arms, one had her frock well pinned up behind over her petticoats, both had short petticoats, thick ankles and strong boots, a washer-woman was then not ashamed of showing what she was, and they always wore dazzling white stockings, —and these girls did. I asked where they lived, they answered readily. I knew the lane well, all the washer-women in the village were there.
In my lewdness I forgot everything but the pleasure of speaking to the girls. A middle-aged lady passed us accompanied by two or three very young women, who stared hard at me. The barrow-girls stood up and curtsied as they passed, and naming them. I knew them, and a few years before had romped and played with the young ladies, then children. The last time I had seen them there was not a hair on any one of their cunts; I expect that now their cunts were full-wigged, and well frigged into the bargain. They had recognized me, as I heard from my mother afterwards, I did not recognize them, they having grown from children to women. I was seated on the barrow-handle as they passed.
“So you wash?” “No, their mother did, they ironed, took home, and fetched the things. What was their name? — would they meet me? and so on. They would perhaps, — where did I live ? — they did not know me. Getting friendlier and friendlier I learned all about them, it was done in a joking, chaffing way. I told them I lived far off, and was only on a visit at a house dose by.
They must go on really, — would I get up? No, unless they gave me a kiss. I chivied one after the other, and caught and kissed both, they were not difficult to catch. Then they trundled on the barrow, I walking with them, the people we met (very few) staring at a dandy walking by the side of two washgirls; but I took no heed then of any one who passed us, nor cared.
We crossed the high-road into another part of the lane, and again we stopped; more and more randy got I. “What do you thing of, when you iron the tail of a man's shirt?” “Nothing.” “You know it wraps round something different from that which a chemise does.” “Does it?” said the little one who had twice the cheek of the elder. “Yes, — it makes you think when you iron them.” No it did not, — what did I mean? — they did not know in the least.
(What delight some girls have in their randiness in declaring they don't understand a man's baudy chaff, the “What do you mean?” “I don't understand” are only incitements to the man to declare his meaning in broad, strong, baudy words; and then it's, “Oh ! oh ! the beast!” but their cunts tighten with a squeeze of lust, they go off and think of it all, and perhaps frig themselves under the recollection. But this is a reflection the result of matured experience, and was not written at the time this part of my narrative was.)
They turned up the high-road, and at their earnest request I fell behind, they left the linen at a house, and brought back other baskets, then I recommenced chaffing. When we were in the lane bounded on one side by a wall, on the other by a ditch and corn-field. They stopped and begged me to go, for so many people knew them on the road. Prudence told me we had better separate, but my mind full of the idea of getting the younger girl, I asked them to have a drink. “No, —they would be seen. Would they meet me? Yes. When? They could not say, — but I had their address.
I am not clear why, but up till then I had not said what I had heard and seen, but I kept it to myself, although dying to let it out. I again sat at the edge of the barrow, and refused to get up till they both kissed me. They could not go without the barrow, and after a little sham I kissed them both. Then the devil took all control off of me, and as I kissed one I felt outside her till she wriggled away from me. This in the open lane.
“Now”, said she, “Mr. Impudence, I've a good mind to slap your head for doing of that.” “I'm sure you liked it”, — and I went towards her. She ran ahead, and took up a stone. “I'll heave this at you”, said she looking as if she meant it. I desisted, and went back to the barrow, “What's he done?” said the sister who had been standing a little distance off. “I'll tell you bye and bye, — come on. The younger began to handle the barrow, but I sat down on a handle, some one came along. “You will do us harm”, said one of the girls.
“Tell your sister what I did.” “Shan't, — get up.” I then, forgetful of my intention, blurted all out, imitating their voice and manner. “Fuck, hish ! some one will hear”, — a slap. “Fuck, — there then.”
The younger stood like a statue, her mouth opened wide, her lower jaw almost seemed dropping off; the elder stared at me, her eyes nearly out of her head. “Sarah says the bigger it is the better she likes it.” Their faces got blood-red, they stared at each other, then one said, “I wish you'd get up, and let me have my barrow.”
“I saw you both piddle”, then I looked up and down the lane in both directions, I was bursting. “Look”, said I pulling out my prick, “it's as thick and stiff as his, isn't it?” No one was in sight still.
“I wish there was a policeman”, said the elder, “oh! you beast,—we'll tell the police.” One appeared just then in the lane, but the girls appeared to be in no hurry to tell him, but I rose, they wheeled off the barrow as fast as they could, I walking with them. I was a little afraid of the policeman.