Whilst the warm saline outpour was going on, two other whores came by and were amused. “Voyons, je puis pisser, moi.” — “A shilling?” “Oui.” — And so she pissed, and her companion also. Then a shoal of harlots, French and English — one telling another — came and pissed. “Prenez garde — le police,” and quickly they scattered like chaff before the wind. I stood upright by the kerb stone. On stalked the guardian of public morals, not noticing me who had never moved.

Then came by a shortish, stout English woman, I offered her a shilling. — “Give it me then, I want to piss badly.” — She squatted and began ere I could stoop, at the edge of the kerb, and to my astonishment her piddle squirted out in a smallish stream nearly horizontally, and quite two yards from her. A police-man came near. — “Get up, the police.” — “Can't, I'm bursting,” and she finished whilst the guardian stalked by without noticing her. She, evidently aware of the direction of the current, had pulled her clothes up above her garters to avoid wetting them. The constable I believe thought from my standing by her side that I was her husband.

“I'm seven months gone with child,” said she rising from the kerb. “You can feel my cunt round the corner.” — I followed her there, but finding another couple engaged in feeling each other's privates, bade her good night, and left without further satisfying my curiosity about her cuntal region. There are more gas lights there now than formerly, which interfered with street amours, and destroys tranquillity in the sexual pleasures — cui bono? The cunts will be felt else-where, the venue is changed, that is all — that which is natural between the sexes will have its way, or if thwarted lead to the unnatural.

By that time concupiscence was asserting its power in me. The feel of six or eight cunts, the sight and feel of L**l*e's bum furrow and cuntal region — now thickly black haired from bum bone nearly to navel — had roused my tool, which from fatigue had enabled me to withstand sexual wishes since the night when fucked out I left H. A slight, fair-haired woman looked at one. — “How old are you?” — “Seventeen — come — my lodging, it's close by.” I went with her. She'd a delicious, pretty, little, light auburn-haired rift, pink tinted and with scarcely nymphae or clitoris, quite a girl's cunt and very enticing. She was small boned, rather thin, but most beautifully made, and to my astonishment said she was Irish tho I didn't believe it. “Do it me.” — said she so soon as she'd felt my cock. — “You want it?” — “Yes I've not had it tonight.” — “Here is your money, don't let me if you have any fear.” — “Thank you, put it down, I'm all right.” She was then laying on the bedside naked. — Next minute I plugged her to her womb. It was such a tight little cunt, and I had pleasure in feeling round my prick, tightly enclosed by the nearly hairless lips. — “Oh — go on — fuck,” quoth she impatiently, and in a minute our sexual juices mingled.

“Ah — isn't it nice?” said she, as leaning over her — my cock still sheathed in her — I kissed her pretty youthful face, which wasn't a bit Irish. — Stooping, kissing, keeping my prick up as long as I could, at length out it came. “Do me again.” — “I can't.” — “Let me make you.” — “No, its late, and I'm sure I can't.” But she was anxious for it. A pretty girl begging me to fuck her is irresistible. She washed. — “I'll lay by your side a minute or two.” — There I felt up he] tight cunt, she made me rise, up her I put my pego, and lay so for many minutes before I thrust, then fucked again and departed. She had lifted up her legs for a very small fee.

A longish sea voyage, no incidents worth noting, excepting that of a healthy and very plain-faced, tall woman, seemingly about twenty-five, traveling wit] her mother and father to the East, was seasick close t me. I led her to her cabin and comforted her on the way. “How very kind,” said she next day, and then to my astonishment I found she was a widow. The sea air and extreme rest soon made my prick voluptuous, and I thought of the widow whose cabin was only a few yards from mine — I like talking to widows, they know all about fucking, they want it, and will take any sly allusions to it, whilst I am wondering how they assuage their passions, and how their cunts must tingle with want of the male. They tingle much more than virgins' cunts who don't know the stretch of the prick. There were her “Pa and Ma,” and I also had friends with whom I was travelling in my way. But walking on deck after dinner one fine evening with her “Pa and Ma” about — we leant over the bulwarks talking about sea sickness. Was I sick? she asked. — “Sometimes qualmish but soon over, and it has a very peculiar effect on me.” — “What?” — I hesitated, then — “It makes me want to be in bed with a companion.” “Ohooo,” said she giggling and went off to her Ma — I didn't fear, knowing that a widow wouldn't tell of that. — Half an hour later sitting at cards, I noticed that every minute she looked across at me. I fancy her cunt was stewing.

Once or twice on the voyage I nearly frigged myself, after I'd been standing at a place where I could see the women's feet as they went up to the decks, and I'd let the young widow see that I looked at hers. I fancied she let me see as much as she dare, and a beautiful foot and ankle she had — her sole charm — complimenting her on it, — “You've no business to be looking” said she laughing. “Why not, what are pretty feet, and legs etc. etc. made for but to be seen?” I thought what a hard case hers was, to be deprived of the male after three years regular fucking, which I ascertained was her case.

At an Oriental city I found perpetual blue sky, hot sunny days, and coolish nights. — All the delights of novelty in climate, vegetation, architecture, food, customs, dress, and where colored skins from the blackest to the whitest, were seen, and where among the peas-ants prick is king, no shame in showing it, whilst the women would sooner shew their cunts than their faces. I landed with a fortnight's sperm in my balls.

Two nights after on a blue-sky'd yet darkish evening, I wandered about the streets in the city, delighted with its wild, half-savage, irregular beauty. A few women flitted by me, their faces covered with the yashmaks, men turbaned and with flowing robes, others with baggy trowsers and a fez. — Negroes and Negresses mixed with others of tawny hue, whilst at rare intervals an European was seen. In a widish street near a cafй chantant all was bright, yet within two minutes walk from it, were poor houses, ragged, unkempt gardens and waste grounds. At the corner of a cross street, stood a short young man wearing baggy trowsers, and on his head a fez. I stared at everyone that night for the novelty, and stared at him as I passed. He gave a significant jerk of his head and turned down the street. I followed, thinking he would show me a brothel of which I stood in need, as I had heard that pimps of whom no fear need be had, were always about. In two minutes we were by the ragged waste ground and almost in the dark, tho there were some street lamps at long intervals. I was hesitating to follow further, when he turned round and exposed his prick, I could fairly well see it for it was not very far from the last gas lamp. Then he turned, went on further, and in greater darkness stopped against some bamboo railings enclosing some waste grounds.

At once surprized, as I was for a moment, it occurred to me that he must be circumcized. Such a prick I'd never seen, so closed on him and felt it. It was soft, thick, and grew big under my handling. Then said he “Turko fuckee” and pointed in the distance. Scarcely a word of the language knew I, but guessed somehow that he meant a sodomitic den of which I had heard there were many there, and to which the Orientals openly went. I shook my head, he gesticulated persuasively, but it was of no avail.