VOLUME 4 CHAPTER 17

The lady’s drawers. • Weary of peeping. • With the closet- keeper. • She consents. • The mail-train in. • A rush for the closets. • Piddlers in succession. • The knowing one. • A mother and daughters. • The closet-keeper again. • Connubial habits. • An ugly backside. • Two Americans. • The closet- keeper’s anxiety. • In the woods. • “C’est une sale putain.” • Punished for peeping. • Unpleasant reminiscences. • A young lady recognised.

No one had yet noticed the peep-hole, though so large. The women seemed mostly in a hurry, pulled up their petticoats, and turned their rumps to the seat directly they had shut the door. At length a splendid, big, middle-aged woman came in, and was most careful in bolting the door, then turning round towards the seat, she lifted her clothes right up, and began feeling round her waist. I wondered what she was at. She was unloosing her drawers. She was dressed in silk, had silk stockings on, and lace-edged drawers [drawers were only then just beginning to be worn by ladies]. Peeping out from between the drawers every now and then was the flesh, but nothing more suggesting what was behind.

Apparently unable to undo them, she broke the fastening with both hands, and the drawers fell down to her knees. What a pair of lovely thighs she had, but I only saw even those for a second, for her petticoats fell. She disengaged her limbs from the drawers, pulling the legs one by one over her boots, rolled up the drawers tightly, and put them into her pocket. Then puffing up her petticoats as she stood sideways I had a glimpse for a second of a splendid bum, and the edge of the hairy darkness. Then she dropped them, stood still and looked. I felt sure she was looking at the hole, and drew back. When I looked again the hole was plugged with paper. I did not move it till I heard she had gone.

Although now growing tired of seeing backsides, and cunts gaping in the attitude in which cunts look the least attractive; yet I felt annoyed at missing the sight of this lady’s privates, and could scarcely restrain my- self from pushing the paper through. I thought she told the closet- woman, for I saw that woman look in directly she had left.

For a full hour I then saw nothing. I had not heard a train, and looked at my watch. It had stopped. I peeped out of the shed-door, saw no one, went out, put my head round the corner, and saw the care-taker knitting in the shade. She saw and followed me at my beckoning. The train had not arrived, it was one hour behind time.

She came into the shed. “Talk low,” said she, “for some one may be there and hear.” I told her of the lady and her drawers. She said the lady had told her of the hole. We both laughed, she called me, “Sale, — mechant,” but did not stop my kissing her. I got more free, and from hinting got to plain descriptions. She took no offence. I told her of the two girls looking at each other’s cunts, that I longed to be kissing one of them; that the sight of their pretty slits made me long to have one of them (I used chaste words). “Or both,” said she. “I’d sooner have you, for I like plenty of hair.” In the half-light I saw her eyes looking full in-to mine. She laughed heartily, but stifled the noise, and I was sure that she felt lewed. I kissed her, and pinched her. “What fine breasts you have.” Then her bum. “Laissez-moi donc.” Then my hands went lower. “My God let me feel your cunt.” “Hish! talk low,” said she. The next minute I was feeling her cunt. “What hair, — delicious, — ah! foutre, — faisons l’amour.” But she coquetted. “Now don’t, — if any one should come, — I won’t.” — whilst gently I edged her up against the side of the shed, one hand full on her cunt all the while. “You must not, — mais non.” Then out came my prick, and she felt it. Another minute’s dalliance. “Let me put the key in the door,” said she, “and then no one can let himself in” She did, and in another minute standing up against the shed, we were fucking energetically. Didn’t she enjoy it!

We had just finished when we heard the train-signals, and off she went. “Come back.” “Yes, yes presently.” Down to the peep-hole I dropped, holding my prick in my hand; there already was a cunt pissing in front of me. English I guessed, for she was half sitting on the seat. Then for half an hour was a succession of backsides and quims, mainly English and Americans (a first-class train only). I knew them by face and dress, and nice linen, and because they nearly all sat or half-sat on the seat, whilst others mounted it. I wished my country-women had mounted also, to enable me to see their privates better. They nearly all piddled only. There was a restoration at the station. Nearly every woman of other nationalities shitted, they wanted I guessed, full value for their ten centimes.

Another woman plugged the hole with paper, a knowing one who did it the moment she entered the privy. I pushed it away directly she had left, she grunted much, and was a long time there.

Then I saw the cunts of an English mother and four daughters, just as the train was ready to go. They had from what they said been eating and only just came in time. The girls looked from fourteen to twenty years of age, the mother not forty.

Luckily some one before must have fouled the seat. The mother entered first with the youngest. “Stop dear,” said she in a nice quiet voice, “the seat is filthy.” She opened the door, put her head out, and I expect called the woman. Returning, “Get on to the seat dear.” “How Mamma?” “I’ll show you,” and she got up, but daintily hid her limbs from the child. “Look the other way dear.” The girl turned her back, and then she pulled up her clothes, and I saw the maternal quim and piddle. Then she helped the girl up. “I’ll tell Clara what to do,” said the mother, “take care of your clothes dear,” and she left the privy. The girl did take care, and showed her nice little bum and unfledged cunt charmingly. Piss only again thank God.

The other girls entered afterwards. Each smiled as she mounted. Would they have smiled, had they known my eye was so near their bum-holes? Piddle only. Then the fourth followed and piddled. The train moved off, directly they had left.

The care-taker soon came round to the shed. I told her all, talked baudy, soon at her I went, we fucked, and after our privates had separated we talked. There would not be another train for some hours, she usually went home to dinner, any one could go to the closets then without paying. I wanted to go home with her, but she refused it. She would be there at * * * o’clock, an hour before the *** p.m. train. Yes on her honour. I gave her a louis. “How good you are,” said she. She was surprised. I had promised her nothing for fucking her. We both wanted that, and therefore did it, — that is all.

I went to my hotel, eat and drank, and before the time, let myself into the shed with a key she had given me. She came back early, and dropped her eyes. She was a stout woman with large waist and haunches, a sturdy, plump, well-fed peasant with good eyes, and bronzed cheeks, a good bit of flesh for a fuck. I wonder how I had cheek to attack her for all that. Now however I had felt her hard buttocks and in my randiness her cunt had seemed divine. I had whilst waiting pulled down a dusty long cushioned seat from the miscellaneous heap of things and we sat down on it. I began feeling her. “Let me see your cunt.” “Haven’t you seen enough women’s?” “No I must see yours.” “Tell me about the two girls again — I think I know them” she said. On being asked I told her and a lot more. “Que vous etes mechant you men — do you so like looking at women when they are doing caca?” “No I did not, — I could not bear it,— but their thighs, their lovely round bums, their cunts, anything to see those parts, — I will see yours.” I got her to stand up; and then with the modesty like that of a newly-married woman permitting her husband, she let me see. It was not a bit in the manner of a harlot. I looked at her wet quim in the dim light, and soon we fucked again. Then we questioned each other. What she had to say was soon told. Her husband had for many years held his post, he was here, there, and everywhere, and came home once a week if lucky, but generally once in ten days, and then had an entire day to himself. She had the post of privy-opener given her, because of her husband, and made more money than he did though only in pennies. It would be a good deal more now, if they let her have it all, for there would be more trains, but they would divide it, for here were to be closets on both sides. “Then you get fucked (not mincing words now), once in ten days.” “That’s about it,” said she laughing. “You long for him to come home?” That’s true.” Just then we heard some one in the privy. I looked, she would not, and went off with a moistened quim to attend to the people. A train was coming in.

Back came she afterwards, and we talked for two hours. My cock was ready. I laid her on the form, and straddling across the seat, and holding her legs up across my arms, entered her quim. But she nearly fell off the seat, it was so narrow; so again up against the wood-work, we copulated. She was well grown, so it was not difficult. She took to the fucking, as if I had a right to it, and she liked it, but I always disliked uprighters.

Again we sat down and talked. “You won’t want your husband now.” “He comes home to-morrow,” and she showed me a little scrap of dirty writing-paper with, “On Tuesday” written on it, and a mark at the bottom with a date. “That’s his mark,” said she, “he can’t write, — I’m here to meet him.” We then kissed each other. “You are very handsome,” she said. “You are beautiful,” said I. “Am I really?” “Yes, and fuck divinely.” Do I really?” said she in a most flattered manner.

“Directly he comes he fucks you here?” “He’s never been in here in his life, but he makes love directly he gets into our rooms,” she replied in a quiet tone, as if she’d been telling a doctor her ailments. Still we sat and talked. The shed had been only built for storing things temporarily, the privy was for the Chef, but it had not been used by any one for some time. The hole in the wood could not have been there long. How made, she knew not. She must have noticed it, had it been there long, for she washed the seats continually. Holes were often made by men in the sides next the women’s closets, they bored holes to look at the women, she wondered “pourquoi mon Dieu,” why they wanted to see women, when they were doing their nastiness?

Again through the peep-hole I saw such a nasty, dirty, frowsy, beshitten backside, and the chemise of an oldish-rabbit-arsed female, that a disgust which had been gradually intensifying, made me indifferent to seeing any more, and females came and went with-out my even looking.
I now sat on the cushioned though dirty form comfortably (before I could only sit on the privy-seat), waiting for the privy-woman to come back. But curiosity still got the better of me. An express train came in with English and Americans, and I looked. People who come by train are always in a hurry, sometimes they have wanted to ease themselves an hour or more, and then let fly before almost they get their breeches down, or their petticoats up, very often indeed they let fly at random over the seat. Then those following them finding the seat dirty, mount it to avoid fouling their clothes.

“It’s beastly,” I heard in a high pitched American tone. Two nice, young, shortish girls, were there. “Let’s go to the next one.” “There is some one there, — there is not time, — get on the seat.” Up got the girl with her face towards me. “Not so Fanny, — turn round stupid.” “I can’t, — this will do,” said Fanny, and pissed out of a dear little cunt covered with lightish brown hair, set in delicious buttocks. I put my eye close to the hole, and the piddle splashed into it, for she peed on to the back of the seat, and how she wanted it! “Make haste Fanny.” “Oh! I did want so, — I’ve not done it all day.” Then up got the other in other fashion, close to my peep-hole, and watered! In shape of bum, thigh, and cunt the two were as like as two pins, pretty, fleshy little bums, round little thighs, plump as a partridge. I was so lewed I could scarcely resist a desire to call out to them, and say I had seen their charms. The last one turned round when she had done, and got down. “Oh!” said she, “there is a hole in the wall.” “Oh! if — ” said the other. That was all I heard, for they quitted the privy like lightning, putting their heads together, and lowering their voices to a mumble, and talking earnestly. Afterwards when the train had left, back came the keeper to me, and said the young ladies had told her of the hole.

She begged me not to go there the next day, for her husband might arrive by any train; but I did, and had her. I dined at the hotel, and at night having nothing better to do, strolled towards the station smoking a cigar. — The attraction of cunt I suppose did it. She had said that she left directly after a particular train, and some other woman took her place for night-work. There she was, — no her husband could not arrive now till next morning. Let me go home with her, on no account would she. Between the station and the town were some woods being made into public gardens. Walking there against her will and in the dark, I talked lewedness to my heart’s content, and at length had her back up against a tree. “Lay down, — it’s quite dry,” said I, and on some coarse sort of dryish herbage, — I could not see what — I fucked for the last time and on the top of her. We got up whispering adieu, when we saw dimly a man and woman who began the game. She was scared “Let me go, and you stay,” said she. Just then their vigorous love-making made a great noise. Off she went, in a second or two I followed, and overtook her. “C’est une sale putain,” said she, “she has commenced coming here of a night to meet men going to the station, — it is disgraceful, — I shall in-form the Chef to-morrow.” Then the closet-keeper kissed me, and went off with her cunt wet, and a Napoleon which I insisted on her accepting.

The next morning I left Am, *, but could not keep my promise, and went to her at the station. The blood rushed into her face, she looked scared, and shook her head seemingly in a funk, and I departed by the next train.

I have often wondered at the affair, and at that woman. Had she been a whore? did she in her husband’s absence usually have a bit of illicit cock?

My impression is that she was steady and honest; that I caught her just when she was hot-blooded, that my doings were so baudy, that her lust was roused, and so she was helpless at my first attempt, and then having slipped, thought she might as well have all the pleasure she could. She had no children. French women don’t see so much harm in an outside fuck or so. I had promised her no money, had offered no inducement whatever but my prick. It was lust which stirred lust, and we gratified each other. What more natural?

The adventure left me in an unpleasant state of mind, for I could not bear at that time anything connected with the bum-hole. With women, if I thought of that orifice, it destroyed voluptuous associations. Now I could not look at the prettiest woman without thinking of her sitting and farting. The anus came into my mind when dancing, dining, or talking and whether randy or not; and when the tingling in my prick made me look, and long for a woman, thinking what a leg she had, what thighs and quim perhaps, my mind went to her bum-hole spite of myself. I was punished heavily for my peeping. It was a year or two before my mind re- covered its balance, and I was able to think of their sexual organ and its beauty and convenience without reference to its unpleasant neighbour!

One of the first I saw bogging, was a pretty shortish English girl perhaps seventeen years old, but with a backside that many a woman might have envied. She had also a lovely skin and complexion. She neither got on the seat, nor quite sat on it, but rested in a half-standing position, and turned out a light-brown turd a foot long. I saw also her hand feeling once a plump little cunt. She could not find the paper to wipe herself with, felt in a pocket, took out her handkerchief, felt again, found nothing, put her hand in her bosom, took out a letter, and after opening it, tore off a piece about three inches square, replaced the letter in her breast, and wiped her bum with the torn fragment.

When I got back to my hotel that day, the first female I saw was the young lady. I could not keep my eyes off her. She was a sweet-looking creature; but all that I could think of, was that great turd. I thought of it till mad with myself, I left the table, and got out of her way.

Fortunately the greatest number only piddled, — I shall always like to see a female at that function. The attraction to the peep-hole was of course to see the hid-den charms, the fat round buttocks, the lovely columns of flesh which support them, the split, the love-seat, the seat of pleasure, the cage for the cock, the cunt, that mysterious aperture leading to the organs in which a future human being is formed and secreted, and to which man gives life by fucking, — fucking, that divine orgasm, that creator which ought to be praised daily in our prayers and hymns, and which a false refinement (born of lewedness) calls indecent and beastly, if it be alluded to.

[At this time I had already written much of my early life. This episode of the temple of Cloacina dwelt so much in my mind, that although I disliked it, yet at the first hotel which I stopped at for a few days after- wards, I wrote this out, and a great deal more. I recollected the face, form and performances of every woman I had seen; but the repetition of similitudes was wearisome, and I obliterated quite one half, if not more.

I had doubts if I should not omit the whole, but a secret life should have no omissions. There is nothing to be ashamed of, it was a passing phase, and after all man cannot see too much of human nature.]