— “You're a very rude man.” — “Where are you going my dear.” — “Oh — ain't you cheeky.” — “I'll see where you go, and won't leave you till I've felt your lovely legs.” — “Oh! ain't you got cheek?” — “Give me another kiss, you've splendid thighs I'll swear” — and again I attempted one. Just then some one approached us. “Leave off, you'll get me into trouble, I live not far from here.”

This sort of game went on for a quarter of an hour, she slackened her pace, or else I did, and I went on chaffing. At another gas lamp I thought she looked forty. The houses were now further apart and with larger gardens, the fog got thicker. “I shan't be able to find my way home,” said she. — “And I'm sure I shan't find my friend's house.” — “Leave me now please sir,” — said she seriously. — “I won't till I've felt your legs, come here, this is your way home, let me give you a kiss.” — “I shan't.” — I laid hold of her arm and led her up what seemed a muddy grassy place, which looked like an entrance to a field by the side of a garden to a large house which we had just passed, or else a mews, the fog prevented my seeing clearly what. She permitted me to pull her but it was really only leading her, and when we were in utter darkness and in perfect silence, I kissed her, and held her close round the waist, my belly against hers, telling her about the excitement her ankles had caused me, she saying, — “Now let me go, I really must go.” But instinct told me that she knew I meant fucking. I slipped my hand up her clothes, felt big thighs and a fully haired notch, with scarcely any resistance. — “Now I wouldn't have come if I'd thought you'd be so rude.” — Then I put my pego into her hand. “Let's fuck my darling — let me do it.”

She at every advance I'd made said, — “Oh! no — ain't you got cheek.” — But she was randy and meant to let me. When we were both feeling each other's privates, she asked me to promise not to follow her home, for she was in service. — Two minutes after, my hands were clasping a pair of big buttocks and we were fucking. — She'd had many a fuck in her time I'm sure, and enjoyed it immensely. She'd taken off one glove, and felt my pego before she consented, and I'd introduced it to her quim.

The fucking over, we kissed and parted, and I agreed to meet her the following Sunday. She went out of the dark turning, first. — No money was given or promised. Had I seen her ten minutes after I shouldn't have known the woman. There was something about the business which made me fear a clap, but nothing of the sort occurred. — It took me half an hour to find my way to my friend, — it was my second visit — tho really it was not ten minutes walk from his house, where I'd fucked this amorous domestic. I fancy that by a little flattery and persuasion, both of which I'd used, any prick would find an easy entry to her. Sure am I that she'd been well fucked long before I had her. I enjoyed the unexpected adventure immensely.

Then again I went abroad for a couple of months, and amused myself with foreign women, the well kept, well drilled whores, of a French lapunar.

These last two episodes are wonderfully similar in character. There is nothing in that, but it is singular, that they should have occurred so soon after each other.

Chapter XIV

An error in dates corrected. • H. and I get confidential. • Her voluptuous abandonment. • Our erotic philosophy in practise. • My sensitive pego avowed. • My seminal ejaculations. • H. likes a big pego. • A big one up her. • I up after the big one. • Mutual delight in a semenalized vagina. • Reflexions thereon.

[I find that the narrative about Sappho and Raffaella has been placed more than a year too early. What immediately now follows and more should have been placed before it. — This error no doubt is caused by sorting, selecting, and destroying manuscript, with the object of abbreviating.]

H*l*n and I now began to understand each other (tho not yet perfectly). She knew I was not easily humbugged, so abandoned largely Paphian devices, treated me as a friend, and her circumstances compelling her to avoid male friends, and not liking females much, and it being a human necessity to tell some one about oneself, I became to some extent her confidant. She then had a charming, well furnished little house, replete with comfort, and her own. I at times dined with her there. She was beautifully clean, you might have eaten off her kitchen boards, and the same throughout the house. She was an excellent cook, cooked generally herself and liked it, was a gourmet. It was delightful to see her sitting at table, dressed all but a gown, with naked arms and breasts showing fully over a laced chemise, with her lovely skin and complexion, eating, and drinking my own wine, she passing down at intervals to the kitchen. We eat and drank with joy and baudy expectation, both of us — for she wanted fucking. — Every now and then I felt her thighs and quim, kissing her, showing my prick, anxious to begin work even during our dinner.

Afterwards adjourning to her bedroom, we passed the evening in voluptuous amusements — we had then but few scruples in satisfying our erotic wishes. — Soon after had none. — How she used to enjoy my gamahuching, and after a time abandoning herself to her sensations she'd cry out, “Aha — my God — aha — fuck spunk” — and whatever else came into her mind, quivering her delicious belly and thighs, squeezing my head with them, clutching my hair, as her sweet cunt heaved against my mouth when spending, till I ceased from tongue weariness. Sometimes this with my thumb gently pressing her bum hole, which after a time she liked much. Then what heavenly pleasure as I put my prick up her, and grasping her ivory buttocks, meeting her tongue with mine, mixing our salivas, I deluged her cunt with sperm. — Never have I had more pleasure with any woman, with few so much.

Resting, we talked of her baudy doings and mine — of the tricks of women. — We imagined baudy possibilities, planned voluptuous attitudes, disclosed letches, suggested combinations of pleasure between men and women, and woman with woman — for Eros claimed us both. In salacity we were fit companions, all pleasures were soon to be to us legitimate, we had no scruples, no prejudices, were philosophers in lust, and gratified it without a dream of modesty.

One day I told her again of the sensitiveness of my pego, that with a dry cunt the friction of fucking some-times hurt me, that my prick at times looked swollen and very red, unnaturally so. — French harlots — more than others — I found washed their cunts with astringents, which my prick detected in them directly, so when I was expected, I wished H. not to wash hers after the morning, her natural moisture then being so much pleasure to my penis. — No saliva put there, is equal to the natural viscosity, mucosity of the surface of a vagina. — But from her scrupulously cleanly habits, I had great difficulty in getting her to attend to this.

That led one day to her asking, if I had ever had a woman who had not washed her quim after a previous fucking. She then knew my adventure with the sailor, that at Lord S's, and at Sarah F**z*r's — but not the recent one at N**l*e L*le's. — I told her that I had not with those exceptions. — “I'll bet you have without knowing.” She told me of women where she had lived, merely wiping their cunts after a poke, and having at once another man, and of its not being discovered; of she herself once having had a man fuck her, and his friend who came with him, insisting on poking her instantly afterwards.

We talked soon after about the pleasure of fucking in a well buttered cunt, and agreed that the second fuck was nicer if the cunt was unwashed. I racked my memory, and recollected cases where I had had suspicions of having done so. H*l*n who always then washed her quim, again said it was beastly. — I said that if more agreeable to me and the woman, there was nothing beastly in it; nor cared I if there was, fucking being in its nature a mere animal function, tho in human beings augmented in pleasure, by the human brain. “So why wash after, if the two like it other-wise?”