“Now you really must let me go,” said she, uncunting me. Then she washed her cunt, had her bonnet on in a second, put the sovereign I offered her without a remark into her purse, and went off. — She agreed to meet me the next night, “Close by.” I named a time — no, it must be her time, or not at all — so I acceded, left, and did not go on to Camille.
The next night she met me veiled as before, stripped to her chemise, and seemed to like it. She had fine big breasts, large arms and thighs, and her motte was covered with thick sandy coloured hair, her cunt was fat lipped and I guessed her twenty-eight. — Yes, her exact age, she said. — She didn't much like my looking at her cunt, and refused altogether to turn bum up-wards. — She was very poorly dressed, and had common stockings and boots on. — Was she often about here — “No.” — “Where then?” “Nowhere.” “I'll meet you if you write,” and she told me where to, — it was two or three miles off. — I could not make her out but risked a question. “You're gay?” “No,” said she laughing. “You don't want money then.” “I shouldn't be here if I didn't,” and still she laughed. — This was after our fuck, and I was lying by her side on the bed.
Whatever she might have met me for, she was deter-mined to have fucking enough, and didn't want to talk. We had been quick about the first spend, — lust allayed, I wanted a look at her cunt. — “No it's nasty.” “But wash it, I want to look, it's a lovely yellow haired cunt.” “Yellow haired cunt,” she repeated, laughing as if I had made a good joke.
Altho the same in the essentials, tho the end of it must be the insertion of the prick in the cunt, how varied are the manners and words of different women on the approach to that end. It is that variety which so charms me. — “Well — wash it — do.” “Presently, you'll do it again to me soon, I'll wash after.” — And putting her mouth to mine, she put out her tongue, and clutched my prick with vivacity, and evident intention to make me stroke her again, as soon as she could. She was one of those who do not rely on words to excite a man, but did it by kissing, tonguing and squeezing my prick and handling my balls, and soon was successful. She had put a towel under her backside at the first fuck, but I had not spent as much as on the night previously, when my spermatic accumulators were full. After fucking her a third time we parted, but not till I had had a better look at her cunt, and found the lip lining and clitoris pink rather than red, which I don't recollect having seen in the cunt of a woman of her age and size, before.
Lust for the sandy haired, pink tinted cunt still was on me, and one day I had her again, about which there is nothing unusual to narrate. On the following morning I had an irritable, uncomfortable feeling round my prick, the next day an itching, and then found I had a crop of crabs. I could not get rid of them for some days, and actually went to a doctor about them, so infested was my prick. Then a dis- gust at the woman came over me, for I knew it must have been she who gave them me. I wrote to her no more, have never seen her since, and don't know whether she was a whore or not. I have a notion she was a widow. Certainly she wanted fucking badly. Why did she so scrupulously keep her veil on — it was not that she was ugly, for she was really hand-some.
I had some sort of idea that the brothel keeper knew the woman, and I asked. — She said that she didn't, but looked so long at me before she answered the question, that I half think she lied.
A week or two after this I went to dine with a friend at K**b**n. He was a married man, childless, extravagant to a degree in expenditure generally, and particularly in fine food, and wines [he has since ruined himself]. A dozen or so of us men had every thing of the choicest which money could buy, and after sitting, eating, drinking, and smoking for four hours, we left him. It had turned out a pouring night, I had no carriage, his house was d quarter of an hour's walk from a cab stand, and his footman could procure me no cab. One of the guests kindly offered me a seat in his carriage for part of my way home — and at half past one in the morning, set me down at the top of R*g**t Street.
The deluge of rain had just ceased, and tho pitch dark, it was clearing up. Never in my life have I seen R*g**t St. so deserted. The rain had long driven every one home, and I don't think I met six people on its whole length as I walked down it, pleased with the novelty of its absence of life, and glad to walk off the effects in a degree, of my heavy gorging.
There was not even a gay woman to be seen until I got to the Haymarket. There, one or two only shewed, and one asked me to pay her cab fare home, and a well dressed woman she was — cleaned out, without a farthing, the Argyle had been empty, not a friend had she got, she must walk home if some one did not give her half a crown, and she told me where she lived at West Brampton.
A dinner such as I had had always heats my testicles in two or three hours, and as I stood looking and listening to the young woman, a wave of lust rushed thro my genitals, and I began to want a cunt. Yet I had no intention not to have her — for I had other views about the lodging of my penis next day. Then came on one of those baudy inspirations I am subject to, and spite of the evident absurdity of the offer (looking at the dress and style of the woman tho she was not quite a first class), — jokingly I said, “I'll give you a half crown if you'll let me fuck you.”
I rarely accosted a female with such frank baudiness, but I was a little elevated, tho not in the least intoxicated. She seemed in a similar state, and laughing much replied. — “Oh! Lord, I haven't come to half a crown yet, you are liberal, but I'd sooner walk home if I get wet to my skin.” — I laughed about it. — “Ah you don't want fucking.” — “That's just what I do want, for I haven't had a man for four days.” “You've been poorly.” “Just what I have been or I shouldn't want half a crown.” — After a minute's more talk, I gave it her, and had intended to do so from the first. “Here it is, and a shilling for a glass of wine, and now if you won't let me fuck you for half a crown, let me do it for love.”
“Thank you,” said she not moving, but, looking at me, and clapping the money with a chink from one hand to the other, and then back again. — “Did you expect I'd let you for half a crown?” “No my dear, but for love.” “Well I'll let you for love. Where shall we go?” “What, to fuck you?” “Yes for love,” said she quite seriously.
Taken quite aback, I thought she was up to some trick, the empty streets and the time of night made me suddenly suspicious. — “I was joking, I'm in a hurry, let me feel your cunt. That's all.” “Very well, and all for love, mind.” There was a narrow court leading into a wider one than (it still exists tho better lighted) which looked dark enough, and in a second we were in it, her back against a house, my finger on her cunt. — “You've got drawers on.” “Well I can't pull them off here, let us go to O*e*d*n St.” — I would not but between the loose linen I plied my fin-gers. — “I'll frig you.” “No, fuck me — no one will pass —I want it — let me feel your prick.”
I wouldn't let her — I got coy, began to want her — but didn't like a strange woman in the dark. — “No I'll frig you,” and I commenced, putting my left arm round her waist and my stick against the wall. — She let me. — “Oh fuck me do, I want it so — oh I shall spend — you shan't feel me, unless you let me feel you;” and her hand sought my trowsers. But before she could unbutton me — her bum shivered, she caught me round the head, pulled me to her, kissed me and my hat tumbled off as she murmured, “Oh — oh — you beast — oh — you've made me spend,” — and she was silent, whilst I picked up my hat.
“You haven't spent — I have tho.” “You haven't,” I said, tho I felt pretty sure she had done so. Then again I put my hand on her cunt, and after a broad handed fingering under the prick receiver, I satisfied myself that she had. “Why didn't you fuck me, I've never been frigged in a street before.” “But you've frigged a man.” “Only one or two — why don't you fuck me — come — fuck me for love mind, let's go to O*e*d*n St. or come home and sleep with me — I want you.”