Taking my prick from out B.'s mouth I pushed it between his buttock furrow, till it touched his ballocks — out came his prick, and at once I went between H.'s thighs, caught up her drooping legs, and rushed my prick now bursting with desire, up her lubricated cunt, overflowing again with his mucilage. She laughed aloud now, and so did he. Champagne was doing its work, all modesty, if we'd had any, was gone. I thrust and thrust, glorying in its lubricity, in being in the soft avenue his prick had quitted. — B. sprang on the bed. — “Show me your bum,” said he. — With her buttocks turned towards him. — “Fuck me so,” said she. — But he'd just spent, and to see me fucking was his pleasure. He hadn't washed. — “Let me feel your prick,” said I. — “Let me feel it,” cried H. with excited eyes. Relinquishing one of her legs I grasped his tool — a fine big handful even now — and pulled him by it close to me. H. put the leg I'd dropped up and resting on his haunch. Then feeling him, looking at B.'s little black haired notch pouting red from between her buttocks, I fucked and spent, and that randy devil H. spent again.
“Why didn't you fuck me?” said B. angrily, as I pulled my prick out of H.'s cunt. She was a little elevated and quarrelsome. — “Gamahuche her,” said H. who sat up looking now fatigued in her eyes — no won-der? — “You didn't spend with me,” said I. — “I'll swear I did.” — I knew her force, her stirring lewedness, but liked to tease her so. I pushed her back and put my fingers up her cunt, whilst watching B., who in a temper pushed Fancy off, who was gamahuching her. “You don't do it nice.” — We all laughed. — “Fuck me.” — “I can't yet,” said he. — “I'll frig my-self, let me feel your prick.” H. got off the bed. — B. layed herself lengthwise on it, and felt his prick he standing by her side, whilst she frigged herself. Then — “Fuck me, I hate frigging,” and getting off she rushed to the champagne. — There was none. — “You have had enough,” said H. — “I haven't, and you've had all the fucking.” — “What if I have?” — H. was on the pot pissing as she spoke. — Then was a wrangle, in which H. told B. she'd come there to help to amuse us, and might leave if she liked.
More champagne, Black got quite screwed and outrageously baudy, mad for prick. We were all getting screwed and Fancy particularly so. An hour ran away, H. wouldn't minette me or him. — “Gamahuche me B., and when stiff I'll fuck you,” said I. — “No, you fuck me whilst I gamahuche him.” — H. was then handling F.'s tool but relinquished it. I laid on the bed and B. minetted me to rigidity, then I tongue tickled her quim a little, then on the bedside kneeling over her, she sucking me, Fancy fucked her, looking at my rump, H. looking on and feeling his ballocks from behind.
“Suck on,” I cried. But B. who had before half frigged herself spent and let go my prick leaving me un-finished. — “He's a fine prick,” were the first words she uttered. — “He has,” said H. eulogistically.
More champagne and sweet cakes sent for. “Let's fuck on the bed, side by side.” — “All right, I'll piddle first.” — “Do it in the basin.” — “All right.” — Both women ready for anything, mounted the bed and pissed in basins, we watching the streams. — Black lost her balance, fell back, and tilted over her basin towards the bedside. — We pulled her up to the bed edge and she completed her shower. — Then he held the basin under B.'s bum, whilst he opened B.'s cunt lips, and I pissed against it. All this with laughter and shoutings — all lewed to our backbones. The abbess came up, said we were making a dreadful noise, and some friends of hers were below.
A little quieted, soon after we put both our pricks into both cunts, and talked about that. Then we mounted the bed, he flicked H., I fucked Black, both couples side by side and close together. We had fancies even then, and lying on the top of them felt each other's woman, and showed our pricks. — Then encouraging each other baudily, we fucked till we spent amidst a chorus of lustful words. Just then in came the abbess, again, and smacked my rump as I was lying on B., and giving her the last wriggle with my prick.
Then we had tea — then more wine — and again in-cited each other to further exercise. — Groggy, weary, fucked out all, yet lewed still, we kissed all round and then left one by one, I first, and never shall see the like again. — It was an orgy.
At our next meeting, H. and I talked about nothing else, particularly of Black's sauciness and of F.'s propagator. “We had B. to amuse us, and suppose she hadn't been fucked at all,” said H., and — “Hasn't he a fine prick?” She wished we could have it all over again. — “Philip's prick gives you just as much pleasure.” — “Yes, but I like to feel a big one” — I reproached her for what she had done, for the risk she ran of destroying her position and happiness. — “He'll be always after you.” — She replied that it wouldn't mat-ter, that they were going to move miles away, that he was going to America. But she was frightened, and would never see him again she said [so it eventuated].
[All the erotic whims which two men and two women could do together in five hours, I think we did. This part of the narrative is just as it was written at the time.]
Chapter VI
At a Lancashire seaport. • A millhand. • The last night of harlotting. • At the brothel. • Singular beauty. • Singular history. • Two frisky workmen. • Caught by a rope. • Lewed talk. • Lewed wants. • A handy coffee shop. • One pleasured, one pained. • Another flagellation at the Abbess's. • A straight haired cunt tonsured. • H.'s letch for novelty. • The barrister gratified. • Fucking in masks.
In late autumn this year I was at a Lancashire sea-port town, and at about five o'clock one afternoon, wandering about looking at the shops, noticed a well made, well grown woman, with an absolutely lovely face and marvellously clear complexion — tho perhaps too white — who was sauntering along doing the same. I stood close to her whilst she looked at a bon-net shop, but she took no notice of me. Was she a har-lot or not, wandering about alone? I'd had no sexual desire before, now in a minute it overwhelmed — de-sire for her.
She was dressed like a genteel, poorish, middle class woman excessively plainly, but the dress was worn with such an air of distinction, that for the moment I chased the idea of her accessibility. — I followed her a long distance noticing the swing of her haunches, and the way she placed her pretty feet which were visible — for her petticoats were short. — Her boots tho neat were common and thick. She took no notice of passers by, nor they of her. She cannot be a strumpet thought I, but a handsome offer may get her if she's poor. — But where take her to? For I knew no place. Abandoning half formed intentions, yet with a voluptuous pego I stopped, and just then she turned round and re-traced her steps, meeting me, looking casually at me just as any other woman might. I turned round and followed her, still with undefined intention.
Again she stopped at a shop. I stopped too and re-marked that what she was looking at was pretty. She quietly looked at me and agreed that it was. Her manner made me now think she was to be had. She walked on and I did by her side. — “How lovely you are, let me go home with you.” — “Ah! No — impossible — good day Sir,” and she turned round. Yet there was some-thing in her manner — I knew not what — which faintly bespoke the courtezan.
With hope I turned round also, and walked by her side repeating my wish, asking her to have a glass of wine, and so on. — She begged me to go, was waiting for a friend, it would do her harm if she were seen walking with a gentleman. — Yes, she expected him every minute. — “I wish I were he, I'd give a couple of sovereigns to be half an hour with you.” She stopped short at once and looked at me. “A couple of sovereigns! That would be a help to us just now.” — She said this as if reflecting, as if speaking to herself. — Then again she walked on, I keeping still by her side but keeping silence.