She started up quite agitated. — “You'll get me dismissed — don't stay.” “Go to the closet again.” “I won't.” “Then here I will stay (and saying so pulled my prick out, I am fond of showing it now), whether I am caught here or not.” “Oh pray, some one may catch us there — I'm frightened.” In a minute or two she was in the closet again. It was a glorious up-righter, she sighed and heaved, and again mingled her juices with mine. How I longed to look at her buttocks as I grasped them. From that moment her tone and manner altered — she kissed me to go. — Yes she would be there again at 6:30 p.m., or tomorrow at the same time, for at night people were in and out of their rooms, and often went to the closets, but not in midday. Further on was the servants' staircase. Said she, “Wait in this corridor, look out of that window, and if I put my hand behind me, you go down the servants' staircase — they will stare but think you have made a mistake — people often do.” Saying that, she went to the angle of the corridors and looked towards the superintendent's room, her hand went behind her — and descending by the servants' stairs, I got to the coffee room unobserved.
I had to dress to go to my friend's dinner, for he had invited people to meet me. — She brought me hot water. — “You'll have another sovereign to morrow,” said I. Then for a minute only, she opened her thighs and let me feel her cunt, and she felt my prick. — “Can you stay with me here a quarter of an hour or so tonight?” “No, impossible — but,” said she, “at a quarter-past five in the morning I could come in for a little, the old cat comes out at six, and then goes round to see if all the maids are in their places.” “But it's quite dark then.” “Yes, quite.” “Come my darling.” “Well leave your door ajar then, and I will.”
That day with my friend, the talk got about women. Where was the best house, I asked him, to take a lady to. — “Ah, you dog, at your old tricks — how should a father of a family know?” said he — but he told me of one or two houses, and on my way home at night I called at one to make sure. — Should she send for a lady for me. She might, and did. A little one came, I stripped her, and amused myself with my fingers, but so intent was I on giving all I had to the Yorkshire maid, that I did no more, much to that little girl's astonishment. I rang for the chambermaid when at the hotel. “A quarter past five, mind.” — she smiled and said, “all right.” “Bring me an extra candle.” — That she did.
I was awake at four o'clock in anticipation, lighted my candles, and put my door ajar. — She came in a minute. “I'm dreadfully frightened,” said she, “they turn poor girls away at a minute's notice, if that old cat reports them.” — Then she laid on the bed — she was not quite dressed, and up to her navel I saw all. She was a splendid creature, almost too big for my taste then, but such an arse and thighs I have not often felt. Her cunt tho full lipped, was not very hairy, and whilst thighs and belly looked quite thirty, the cunt looked quite a young one. — Her petticoats got in my way when I laid on her; and so after kissing her cunt and praising her beauty, she consented to kneel on the bed, and I saw two of the most magnificent arse globes in the world, with the dark brown hairy notch pouting between, and a very lovely fuck we had, which she enjoyed as much as I did.
We played with each other's genitals — and soon I gave her another bumbasting; this time holding her great thighs up over my arms, by the side of the bed. — “Have you spent?” said I, not feeling sure. “Why yes — isn't fucking lovely?” “Ah isn't it?” — At midday I had her again in the closet, and a grope at half-past-eight at night, and went to bed happily and quite contented.
The next day she had told me was her evening out. She agreed to meet me and we went to the house I had called at. We both stripped and got into bed. It was a cold November night, and for three hours I had a lascivious treat. She was a splendid creature. Her flesh was like ivory, her breasts lovely, and she fucked divinely. — I had her twice next morning at a quarter-past five, and now having worn off the novelty and fucked myself a little down departed by an early train. She kissed me passionately in my room, and said she was sorry I was going — whether it was for my fucking or my money, I can not say.
When laying in bed at the baudy house she said she was too big for service in a private house, and had been in three hotels — she was tired of it. A gentleman who often came to the hotel had asked her to go to London with him. She had refused, but if he asked her again she should accept. — She longed to see London. — “Who had you first?” “Ah, that's tellings.” “You are fucked always on your evening or afternoon out?” That she wasn't — very few gentlemen spoke to her, — and when out, she always went to her aunt's who lived in the town. — She thought the gentlemen who came to B***f**d did not admire women as big as she was.
It was after I got back to London that I met N**l*e H**s. After I recovered from the ailment N*l*e had given me, an illness of quite a different class overtook me. Unhappily it was needful for me to keep to my home, but I very nearly went to an hotel instead. When I had done looking into my private affairs, which had again gone a little wrong, — and my worry had sub-sided, I amused myself by reading, sorting and arranging these memoirs. I referred to them by dates in my diary, and made them in their order pretty complete. I used to lock myself in my room for the entire day, and said among other things that I was writing a book. — Happily my illness was not a long one.
Chapter X
A convalescent amusement. • On copulation, and the copulative organs.
During my illness I was as chaste as men usually are, when they cannot be unchaste; but I thought much about women, and the complicated organs of the sexes, by the agency of which the species is continued. I reflected on the secrecy with which human beings envelop their amours — of the shame which they so ridiculously attach to any mention or reference to copulation in plain language, or indeed at all — altho it is the prune mover of humanity, and finds expression in every day life in some shape or another, by word, or deed; and is a subject which passes thro the mind, almost daily, of men and of women who are in a healthy state of body, and have once fucked, and perhaps before that.
It was a wonder to me that when both sexes feel so much pleasure in looking at each other's genitals — that they should take such extreme pains to hide them, should think it disgraceful, to show them without mutual consent, and penal to do so separately or together in public. — I came to the conclusion that in the women it is the result of training, with the cunning intention of selling the view of their privates at the highest price — and inducing the man to give them that huge price for it — the marriage ring. Women are all bought in the market — from the whore to the princess. The price alone is different, and the highest price in money or rank obtains the woman. Then I wrote what follows, because I never had found it written in plain language elsewhere.
This description of the genitals, and their mode of meeting, has probably in it many errors and omissions, for I am not a doctor, but it was all I knew about it when I wrote it. No attempt is made at anatomical definition or exactitude —. It is what may be termed essentially a popular description, suitable to the smallest capacities, and fit for both sexes — or if you please — instructive reading for the young. It is, to the young, essential knowledge — yet the great aim of adults seems to be to prevent youths from knowing anything about it.
Providence has made the continuation of the species depend on a process of a coupling the sexes, called fucking. It is performed by two organs. That of the male is familiarly and vulgarly called a Prick, that of the female a Cunt. Politely one is called a penis the other a pudenda. — The prick, broadly speaking, is a long, fleshy, gristly pipe. — The cunt is fleshy, warm, wet hole, or tube. — The prick is at times and in a peculiar manner, thrust up the cunt, and discharges a thick fluid into it, and that is the operation called fucking. It is not a graceful operation — in fact it is not more elegant than pissing, or shitting, and is more ridiculous; but it is one giving the intensest pleasure to the parties operating together, and most people try to do as much of it as they can.