“I do not love you, — I shall never be a mistress to you, and from the time I am sure that I shall have a child, you will see no more of me in the way you see me now, and perhaps not at all.” “I believe you are with child at this moment,” I said joking. “I firmly believe that I became so an hour ago. — I must leave, — how can I enter my door with the feeling I have hitherto done? — ah! mine has been a bitter married life!” “And mine my darling also.” “But you men get relief, get even fresh loves, and people overlook it, — women they crush for less.”
She dressed. “You have not washed yourself,” I said laughing, for I had turned away out of delicacy when I saw her put the basin down. She would not wash at all, not wishing to destroy the good I had done her. Was it for good or harm? — time was to show. I saw her to a cab, and we parted. Yes she would meet me again — tomorrow at the theatre we should meet. She had never smiled, nor seemed pleased, nor been voluptuous, she only laid quiet, and let me fuck her as much as I could.
We met at Drury Lane, for I had of course to get the box. That night Mrs. Y***s***e began to show great attention to my wife, who in return began to hate her, yet I carefully avoided showing Mrs. Y***s***e special attention. Mr. Y. went out regularly between each act to drink. I had opportunity to speak to his wife. “Same time and place tomorrow.” The next afternoon we were in the same bed together again.
And again we met. She came in her carriage, left it at one door, and passed through the shop to me. We had only time for one hurried poke. Again the next day, but she had not come in her carriage to the linen-draper's because the coachman was ill. She had a fit of compassion, would not hear of his coming out in the cold, nor of a groom driving. She was frightened. He was not a good whip, so she had a cab. It was a piece of luck, I said. “Well it really is,” she replied. “I hope he will be confined for weeks.” “Poor man, he has a sick wife,” said she. How clever are both man and woman in availing themselves of every chance for getting amorous delights, —the old song of my boyhood is right, “cock and cunt will come together, check them as you may.”
It was an afternoon of hard fucking. She had a tight cunt, — I told her so. “You ought to know what is tight and what is not, according to all accounts,” she said. I had heard similar hints from others within the year before that, and wondered how it came about.
Another and another meeting. She was always quiet, reserved, dignified, even when she pissed, but now was yielding, and taking more her share in dalliance. “Why don't you put your hand down, and feel my prick?” Her hand went gently down, and then it became like mine, inquisitive, and moved under my balls and all about, much more so than the hands of the women did whom I had recently been accustomed to. Satisfying her curiosity stirred her blood, and there was more passion in embrace. Still I felt that I more served a purpose she was determined on carrying out, than that she had pleasure in meeting me for copulation. My vanity was excessive on her declaration that she wished a child by me, but was chilled when she said that so soon as she got one, she would not care about me; and that my embraces were nothing to her, unless they fecundated her egg; that her joy in my arms was only physical, and that when the sperm was laying up against her womb-mouth, she cared nothing for the man from whose prick it had issued. Many as were the cunts I had spermatized, I was too young to have studied their owners philosophically or psychologically, as I since have done.
Gradually she became more free. She had refused my inspection of her, and on any liberty she did not like she mentioned her degradation. “I suppose you think me little better than a prostitute,” said she to me one day,” “and I deserve it.” She was so sensitive about her own sin, as she called it, that when she referred to it I was settled at once, and relinquished my wishes. I had never seen her quite naked even after several meetings, and got wild. “Let me see.” “I don't like it.” “Well my darling you shan't be annoyed but I have never kissed it, — I will.” I ducked down in the bed kissing her breasts, then her belly, and at last lodged my head between her thighs. The smell of her cunt was delicious to me, I opened the lips, I kissed the moist parts. “I'll lay here all the time,” I said, but I never licked her, for I had no taste for gamahuching her. “You will be smothered unless you come up.” “I don't care, — let me see.” I just caught the darkness of the split, and was glad to rise up, and rub my ballocks against it. She would show me no more, but it stirred her up, “Oh my love,” came with more emphasis than ever. I pulled my prick out of her, and stopped her crisis. “What are you doing?” “I won't go on unless you let me look at your cunt,” — and then I did. After-ward I became master, and she no longer refused me.
The coachman was better. Instead of two or three hours she could only manage an hour, — half an hour, — it came to a fuck at the bedside, and a precipitate rush out of the house. We were much vexed. How I hated to see her step out of that big carriage! — how I longed to see her come muffled up out of a cab!
One day she sighed, but smiled. “I am with child,” she said. “Are you glad!” “Yes, but I feel sad, and I don't know why.” This must have been about a month after I had had her. “Are you sure?” “Yes, — and if in another three weeks my poorliness does not come on, it is absolutely certain, — not but I was certain I should be from the moment we met here, and even before I had you, that you would be the father of a child.” I wanted to see her quite naked. “No.” “Not to the father of your child? — ridiculous.” She reflected. “It is ridiculous, but I cannot bear to be treated like a prostitute.” “Nonsense, — does not every man see his wife naked, and have his pleasure with her in every way?” “Do what you like with me, you have the right now, — every right over me, — more right than any one else, — I believe it to be so in the eyes of God.”
Chapter VI
Copulation refused me. • Unto us a child is born. • Flight suggested. • Affection unrequited. • Her husband dies. • Narrowed circumstances. • In a foreign land. • She marries again. • Hearsay, fifteen years afterwards.
When she had made up her mind to a course good or bad, she did not hesitate. The same determination that I should be the father of her child made her yield to me now. She let me pull her about, lift up this limb, open that, backside and belly, cunt, bubbies, and arm-pits came under my rapturous inspection. I must have been strong in my expressions of delight, for she took the infection from me. When rushing into her arms, and sheathing my penis in her, “Am I really very nice?” she said. “Divine.” “Oh! my love, I am so glad you like me,” — and our bodies began to move. The affection which a woman has for him whose seed has given her a child had set in, but I did not reciprocate it. I had not then in my physical love for women learnt to discriminate between lust and love, and thought the former was the latter, until it shifted its object, and then I began to wonder how I had liked the last woman so much, and the one before her so much, and so on.
After that day there was no hesitation. She abandoned herself to me absolutely, I could see and do what I liked, nor was she behind. Though not a sensuous or voluptuous woman, she used to rub her mouth in my balls, and kiss my prick, whilst I fingered her cunt. The way she nestled her nose round my balls was curious — most women have a way of their own in amorous tricks.
She had dark eyes, dark wavy hair, and a pretty nose. Her face was handsome and dignified, you saw at a glance she was a lady. She had lovely shoulders and breasts suggesting much plumpness below, but it was not so. Although nice and round, she was not large about her bum and thighs, yet the calves of her legs were symmetrical. She was prettily shaped, and her bones so fine that she looked stouter than she really was. She was nice to feel all over, had exquisite hands and feet, and had all the physical qualities of good breed. Her cunt had but a smallish quantity of crisp dark brown hair on it, and the lips and prick-hole were small. It was a pretty cunt, like a well-grown girl's of seventeen, instead of a woman's of nearly thirty. When I said she had a small cunt, she became anxious to know if it was very small. She had some fear that through its size she would have a very severe labour, which was the case.