On the fifth day I determined to do something to enable me to leave her, and told her I must do so. That if she did not let me put her somewhere safely, I would fetch her father. It ended in her writing from my dictation to her relative at A*i**d*n.
The letter was in some respects true, but all about what had taken place since her flight was a pack of lies. I thought out the whole thing, even to her being able to account for her having the new under-linen (I gave her nothing else much), and the story was, I'm sure, a quite probable one. As a post-office was named, at which a reply was to be sent, the clue to her whereabouts was pretty well broken. In a couple of days a kind reply came — they knew of her having run away, and had evidently been informed of it by the girl's father, who I imagined thought the girl might have gone to A*i**d*n. So I determined to send her off there at once.
I had now had all the pleasure the lass was capable of giving me, was in fact fucked out, and she as well, but such was the attraction of the young lass, that I never strove harder to copulate. At last, after a mid-day meal (we always began fucking soon after that meal), I got my cock into her, and rammed with energy, but nothing would come out from my sperm-holder and it shrunk out shamefully without spending. “I can't do it,” said I. — “Oh, I'm glad you leave off, I'm so tired,” said she. As usual with women when I am nearly fucked out, I make them spend, tho I don't myself, if I can keep my cock stiff and in action. But Rosa was not by nature libidinous I am sure. She gave none of those quiet indications of desire, which the newly fucked usually do. — Unasked, she never laid hold of my prick. — The only curiosity she showed was once in seeing my prick stiffen under her handling, but she never asked me to frig it till I spent. I don't recollect at this moment one woman fresh at copulation, who has not wished to see that.
Next day I saw her to the station, and the train, with her, move off. I gave her ten pounds, impressing on her the necessity of not telling that she had more than a few shillings. That was to fit in with the tale of her doings since her flight, which we had concocted. — She seemed glad to go, and not at all affected at leaving me. — She only remarked I'd been very kind, that she didn't know “how it would all end,” and wished she were dead. I gave her envelopes, written with an ad-dress for me at a post-office, and begged her to write to me, however short her letter was, and promised if she was in trouble still, to help her — but I did not give her my real name.
About a week after, a letter reached me with “All right — Rosa” on it, and not a word more — I never heard of her again. I applied at the office for a letter months after she had left me, but there was no letter for me.
It was a week of great pleasure, a curious one in its incidents. — Her youth, and youthful cunt, and manners, pleased me much; yet I was glad when it was finished, for there was a tie about it which worried me. In a week I had quite recovered my virile power, and at once had two or three of the biggest women I could find, being impatient to see their massive thighs, and thickly haired cunts. To one and all, I told that I had been a week with a young lass, and described her closely to them. It gave me pleasure to point out on the mature cunts, where the hair grew to on the young one, how the slit looked, and how tight it felt, and so on. But this did not seem much to please the ladies, who seemed rather to think that my pleasure with the lass reflected upon their own personal charms.
As to Rosa, I shall always feel that in not writing more to me she was very ungrateful, but I had a most delicious week with her. A honeymoon. I doubt whether I ever shall have anything like such a piece of luck again.
Chapter VI
Big-eyed Betsy Johnson. • Early acquaintance. • Brothels closed. • Ten years later. • It's you Betsy! • Her huge nymphet. • Protuberant eyes. • Witty baudiness. • My erotic requests. • Her help. • With Betsy and a man. • Hesitations. • His offers. • I frig him. • His arsehole offered. • No erection available. • Pestles and bumholes. • Spunk and a toothpick. • I poke Betsy. • His thumb on my bum. • A little virgin wanted. • One found. • At J***s St. with her. • Another Molly. • Betsy's baudy antics. • Molly modest, stripped, and liquored up. • Pitching shillings at cunts. • Molly refuses my amatory advances. • Betsy's threats.
[Before I tell about my acquaintance with this woman, — I must recall some facts to explain how that acquaintance was first made.
Some time before the termination of my acquaintance with Sarah Mavis, with whom I was so desperately infatuated, the London public had a fit of virtue to which it is subject periodically. It commenced a crusade against gay women, and principally those frequenting Regent and Coventry Streets, and others in that neighbourhood. Many nice, quiet accommodation houses were closed, and several nice gay women whom I frequented disappeared. Indeed, for a time, the police were set on with all their brutality . Women by dozens were taken before magistrates ruthlessly, and altho mostly cautioned and set at liberty, some were imprisoned; and the effect was, that for a short time the streets named, and a few others, were all but cleared of gay women.
Among the women who disappeared was one named Betsy Johnson, a lovely little creature under twenty, and in the perfection of her youth. Just before she disappeared, she said one night to me in her jocular way — “Fucking is done for here except for love, so I shall take to washing for my living.” — She disappeared, and I was now to meet her again some nine or ten years after].
It was in the middle of November, and but about a month only after I had said good bye to Rosa W***e. — I was walking along the Strand, one very nasty, muddy, dank, dark night. The whores were lifting up their petticoats, partly to escape the mud, but more I expect to show their legs, as high as they dare and I was gazing on them with pleasure, my mind wandering from their legs to their backsides. I passed a female nearly, then stopped — as I seemed to recognize an old carnal acquaintance.
“Why, it's you Betsy.” — I turned round, and passed into a side street, followed by the female. “I don't recollect you, yet I know the voice,” said she. —I made myself known. Several years had passed since I had seen her. It was Betsy Johnson, whom I had fucked just after she had turned gay, and at about the time I was in love with Sarah Mavis, and had quarrelled with her.
Betsy was a middle-sized female, but her plumpness and roundness were delicious. Her form was lovely then. She had a delicious skin, as smooth as ivory, fine chestnut hair, the same color on her cunt hair, of which she hadn't much. She had two defects. Her eyes were excessively prominent, the clitoris was large, and the nymphae very large. They hung out when first I knew her, and when she was not twenty years old, full half an inch below the outer lips, and for the entire length of the split. I did not like that, yet I used to have her, for she was so beautiful in form, so smooth in skin and fucked so divinely and her cunt fitted me heavenly. She was the wittiest woman of her class I ever met — it was good neat wit — and baudy wit as well at times for she was fond of baudiness — She enjoyed it. She at that time took a fancy to me, but I did not return it — tho I saw her once or so, when I quarrelled with Sarah, as to the best of my recollection I have already narrated.
We went to a house and she stripped. She was as beautifully shaped as ever — but her genital deformity had increased. — The nymphae hung down outside the cunt lips, I am sure one inch and a half along her whole split. — We had a long conversation about it and I told her of women having them cut off, I had read of that being done. — She was immensely interested in that, and also had heard of its being done. — She must muster up courage to have them cut, she said. — Men, she was sure, didn't like those flaps — tell her, “Did they?” — Since she had been back in London, she could not secure any regular friends, and kept very poor. “These precious nymphae must be the cause, they do not please I expect.”