At that both laughed so heartily and I as well, and we standing close together — the rope still round me, — made such a noise, that some one on the other side of the way stopped to look at us. — “I can't see it,” said the biggest and plump one, who looked about five and twenty. The other a slim, poor looking creature of about eighteen, only giggled, and then became silent. “It's between your thighs perhaps.” — “Ho, ho, ho — it ain't you're wearing it still.” — “He, he, he,” giggled the slim one. — “No, between your thighs — let me feel there. — It was stiff and if I find it there I'll give you five shillings, and you shall put it back if you can, I can't go home without it.” — “Ho, ho, ho — what?” — “My peg,” — and I pushed at her clothes in the region of her cunt. — “Give me the five bob then and you shall.” — “Polly — Polly — yer don't know what yer about,” said the other remonstrating. — “His peg — ho, ho, ho,” laughed the other.
They were game I saw, whores they didn't seem to be, but workers of a poor class and who decidedly had been drinking. That class doesn't mind baudy language, they hear enough of it. — “I call it a peg to ladies, but there's another name.” — “Tell us.” — “Polly — come along.” — “Feel if it's on yer yet. — Ho, ho,” and Polly laughed still, as untwining the rope she was putting her hands between the fold of my great coat, when the other pulled them away. “Polly — yer don't know what yer about.” — “Shut up,” — said Polly. “Come along.” — “I shan't.” “Let's have a glass of wine and I'll feel if you've got it about you dear,” said I. — “You've got it right enough.” — “Lord, so I have, and it's still stiff.” — Then the other — named Sarah — again rebuked the elder, said she should go and was told she might, but, “Don't be a fool, come and have a drink with the gent,” — which I'd offered. — “Follow us, there's a nice Pub around the next street,” said Polly, who seemed to know the locality.
I was going to the pub, knowing that Bacchus helps Venus, and thinking I might somehow get into the plump one who'd excited my desires, when it occurred to me as not desirable to be seen by a chance medley of poor people, at a public house in a poor nieghbourhood now, and because she was so coarse and common — singular are my letches — and perhaps would have gone to the Pub, sooner than lose the chance of seeing what I knew was a spanking bum.. At the street corner was a poor looking coffee shop. “Let's go in here, they'll fetch us all we want,” said I. — In we two went, the other loitered outside. — “I'll wait for you.” — “Come in, don't be a fool,” and in came Sarah.
They'd nothing but tea and coffee, but they fetched us liquor for which they charged highly. They sat at a table in a corner with me, the two drank gin and water, the eldest's tongue ran on incessantly, I chaffing baudily but without frank words, she delighted replying and looking in my eyes lustfully. Then under the table I grasped her large thigh outside her clothes, and nudged her belly. “Now, don't.” — “It's there.” — “It ain't.” — “It is.” — “What?” — “Don't, Polly,” said the thin one again. — Just then in came one looking like a cab-man, who bought a roll and butter, and disappeared with it, but he'd eyed us so the whole time he was there that I felt uncomfortable, and so soon as he had gone, asked if they had a private room.
The mistress said “No,” looked at the maid, and they held a conversation in a low tone. Then she said they had no private rooms, but there was one I might have till the house was closed. I accepted it, and we went up a narrow staircase to a bedroom. There the servant, “We don't let rooms, but this is it, five shillings — will you please pay first, Sir?” — I gave it her, the liquor was brought up, but Sarah wouldn't stop when she saw the bed. — “I shan't then — your agoin' on too far — yer don't know what yer doing.” — Down stairs she went, and I was alone with the plump one. — “I'll take her some gin,” said she, and pouring out half a tumbler, down she went returning alone, Sarah wouldn't come. “We'd best perhaps go down agin,” said Polly thought-fully.
After seemingly a minute's reflexion, again she said, “Perhaps I'd better go.” — “Nonsense, what did you come up here for?” — saying that I locked the door, closed on Polly, pushed her against the bed, and assaulted her privates. She'd so egged me on to baudy chaff and smutty suggestions, that I'd felt sure of having her, but as my hand touched her thighs she resisted, pushed down her clothes, pushed me away stoutly, laughing as if half pleased tho refusing, and squalling loudly. — “You shan't — don't now — a joke's a joke — I won't — I'm married.” — “You're not — where's your ring?” — “Pawned.” — “I will fuck you. “You shan't” and she scuffled as much as virtuous servants have done whom I've assailed similarly. I was so annoyed at my hindrance, felt so spiteful, that leaving off I angrily said, “You're not married, your linen's dirty, that's why you won't let me.” I didn't mean it, but savagely wanted to offend her, to say something to annoy, and that came impromptu. I said much of the same sort, but all in the same strain.
“Dirty? Me dirty? Cleaner than you, I'll swear. Dirty! I'd wash my shift to rags rather than be dirty. — You have cheek. — Show me your shirt — look.” — Saying that she turned up her petticoats to her garters, and I saw the stockings and all she had on was as white as could be, tho her ankle jackboots were muddy. — “Your cunt's dirty then.” — “You lie, it ain't.” “Let's put this up it,” — pulling out my prick. — “Shan't.” — But she looked at my cunt prodder which was in splendid force. She was lewed before, now leweder still and she laughed. I closed on her again, got my fingers on the soft slit with but trifling hindrance, and frigged away at it. — “Now don't — oh don't.” Voluptuous sensations were conquering for me. — What woman can refuse a prick when the man's fingers have been in full possession of her cunt a minute? “Feel my prick.” — She slid her hand down to it after twice saying, “Shan't” and in another minute it was up her cunt, as she lay at the bedside on to which I pushed and lifted her. Quiet, absorbed in carnal pleasure, the delicious crisis came on, and dissolved us, spending into immobility and silence.
Quietly she lay as holding up her thighs, nestling my pego into her, we looked into each other's eyes in silence, enjoying the carnal junction. Fucking is in its essential always the same, the idealities are everything, therein lays the charm of variety. I felt singular de-light in fucking this common woman whom I'd only seen half an hour. — It takes longer to tell than to act.
— Who might be married or single, or of any occupation, and whose cunt I'd not even seen. Relinquishing one thigh I pushed her petticoats up, and looking down saw a dark fully haired motte, the hair mingling with mine, and put a finger on to the clitoris — “Isn't fucking lovely?” — “Isn't it?” replied she.
Catching hold of her thigh again, I squeezed my belly well against hers, feeling my pego to be dwindling. “Has your friend been fucked?” “Dunno, but she has got a lover.” — “Where's your husband?” — “God knows, on the tramp I suppose.” — “You are married.”
— She nodded. “Who fucks you now?” — “No one.”
— “What a story.” — She laughed, and it squeezed my cock out of her. Then we washed in the same basin, there was no towel, so shirt and chemise did duty.
Afterwards — “Show me your cunt.” — “All right, I'm clean, — look,” — pulling her clothes up to her motte, she let me see, saying how clean her linen was. I saw a cunt fat lipped, and full fledged. “No, I ain't had a child,” said she, noticing my investigatings. — Another letch came on. “I'd give you ten shillings to see your friend's cunt, and she ten to show it.” — She seemed surprized. — “Will you? Don't think she will.” — “Try to get her upstairs.” — “I will, but she's a stupid, don't say you've done it to me.” — Saying that, she put on her bonnet and went downstairs.