I had dropped her petticoats, but I was so lewed now, that I could scarcely restrain myself, and when holding me she began feeling at my trowsers again, my resolution gave way. — “We can't do it here.” “Yes we can, no one will come thro here — if any one's coming we can hear them, do it to me — oh what a big one.” — She had got hold of my prick, and then with-out another word, she lifted up her petticoats. — “Damn my drawers,” said she. — The next instant my prick was in her cunt — and against the wall we fucked, the affair was short — and she spent with me.

“I hope you are all right,” said I when my prick had left her. “Quite — don't be frightened, come and see me,” — and she repeated her name and address — and that every night she was at the Argyle rooms. —

“Is it likely I should have made you do it to me if I was ill — come with me to a house and see me undressed, I'm beautifully made.” — She tried hard to induce me but it was all useless. — She squatted, piddled, and I expect washed her cunt with that liquid as she did so. Slight rain began to fall. “I'd best get back,” said she, and in the Haymarket she hailed a cab, and was going off — “Stop my dear you must have a little bit of gold.” “I haven't asked for any,” said she, “and now you won't come to see me, tho you've just promised — I want you to have me for love.”

I had promised that I would go to see her, and repeated her name and address over again as she wished me, but certainly had no intention of doing so. She had a superstition that I should not after I had paid her, — but she took a half sovereign which I pushed into her hand — “I'll call on you soon.” — “No you won't.” “Yes I will.” “No

,you won't,” and the cab drove off as the “won't” died away in the noise. I never did call on her — or see her afterwards. She was a nice bright looking dark eyed woman, of one or two and twenty years of age perhaps.

I walked then down to the colonnade of the Opera house, when a smart shower came on. — I intended to go to my Club which had not closed, to get some soda water — but being without an umbrella, waited two or three minutes. Just as I was about to hail a cab, a tall, full grown, portly looking woman, whom I had seen standing at the angle by Pall Mall, came up to me, addressed me with a broad Irish accent, and asked me to go with her. The accent was so broad, and it was such a novelty to hear anything like it out of Ireland, and she looked so portly, so like a repectable trades-woman — and so unlike a Paphian — that being in a baudy mood, far baudier than when the other woman had asked me for a half crown, I stopped, talked, and then chaffed her.

Yes, she was Irish, and not ashamed of that, and had not long been in London. — I'd just had a woman had I? By her soul, I'd never had a woman like she was, nor seen a cunt like hers, she'd swear she'd more hair on it than was on any two women's cunts. — If I'd go and see it, and she hadn't told me God's truth, I should not pay her anything. — She was a married woman, but the times were so bad with them, that she must get her bread some how, would I come? — No she would not pull up her petticoats to show me in the streets — not for five shillings (which I offered). — “Yer a big baste to be after asking me to do it. — Divil a bit if I will tho, — but you may put your hand up and feel a bit.”

I accepted the offer, put my hand between her thighs, but long before I reached her cunt as it seemed to me, I felt long hair. Then she jerked her rump back, and pushed down my hand from beneath the clothes. — She had roused my curiosity, I chaffed on, she got angry, and extolled her own charms, and said there wasn't a finer woman in London than she was. After telling her where I'd just fucked — and she refusing still to do anything in the streets, to satisfy my curiosity — it ended with her saying — “Never — never in the street, I'd just sooner be dead — no — not for the half sovereign (which at last I offered) but I'll strip to ye, and ye may do what you like with me in a house, for half a sovereign, and glad I'll be to get it.” — No, she was a stranger about there, and knew no house. — I took her to a convenient brothel in * * * * St.

“Give me the half sovereign,” said she so soon as we were in the bed room. — A bilk thought I, but not caring whether I was bilked or not, for I had only taken her out of curiosity, I got the money ready. “Then if you haven't got a hairy cunt as you say, I suppose you'll give me it back” — said I laughing — “Sure God — there's no chance of your getting it back for it's hairy as a King Charles” (dog she meant). — “Catch” — and I threw it to her. She caught it — spat upon it, and put it in her pocket. — “Sure and ye'll say ye niver seed such a pussy as moine — ye'll be airfter giving me another bit of gould when you have seen it. — Shall I take all my things off?” — I nodded, and she began divesting herself of her clothing.

As she did so, she went on demanding my admiration of her charms, in a very singular manner. -I have known women very proud of their form, and who have shewn great vexation if I made any remark even inferentially disparaging them. I have known some who drew my attention to some particular part of their form, and which in most cases justified their self praise, but this Irish woman extolled herself from head to foot as she undressed — “Isn't that a foine arm? — look — here's breasts I needn't be ashamed of. — My foot's not big for my size is it? I've a splendid leg haven't I?” — and so on, and certainly she'd a good deal to be proud of. Looking at her under the colonnade, seemingly in a heap, she gave no promise of what was underneath, she looked what may be called a homely, motherly woman, and one I should never have lusted for.

“Let me see your cunt,” said I impatiently. — “Wait a bit” — she drew off her chemise. “There — did you ever see anything like that?” — and indeed I never had, for I could not see the cunt at all, — but only a long pendant mass of darkish brown hair, which seeming to be rooted in her mons, hung down some inches below her cunt, and hid it entirely from view. It re-minded me of a patriarchal beard, and I laughed, which much offended her.

Astonished curiosity at once made me serious, for a cunt is never a thing to be laughed at, its view is too absorbing and stimulating. Quickly I got her on to the bed side. She opened her thighs quite wide, and pulling aside the shaggy covering, I saw a cunt of the usual mature type but with long hair (tho not so long as that from the motte) surrounding it. The hairs every-where had but slight signs of curling, the shorter ones at the upper part had perhaps a little curl, but the rest was long, and nearly straight and in large quantity. To please her I said it was fine, but I thought it ugly, yet the novelty stiffened me — “I'll fuck you,” said I. — “Sure an yer may” — and she moved on to the bed. — “No, here, I want to see the hair round my prick,” and bringing her to a proper position — up it went into her. — The hair mingled with mine, and hid every vestige of my balls as I looked down. — Then I pushed her thigh high up over my shoulder with my left hand, and held her to me with it, whilst I buried my other fingers in the shaggy thicket and spent very soon up her.

“You've not spent,” said I still up her. — “Sure and I haven't, and I ought wid such a poker,” she replied in the strongest brogue — and we went on talking till I found myself nearly out of her. — “Lift up both your legs,” said I, and she complied. — I meant to do it when I asked her, and laying hold of the cunt beard (the best name for it) I drew it right across the orifice, which shewed, when my prick was out of it, my semen issuing, and wiped it with the hair. “I never saw a cunt which could be wiped with its own hair before.” — “No and I dare say never will, and it's a baste that you be for adoing it.” Yet she laughed as she washed her cunt. I felt it as she rose from the basin, and it was just like a wet mop. — It must always have been so after she piddled.