A sailor, a whore, and a garden-wall. • The newly-made road. • Windy and rainy. • Bargaining overheard. • Offer to pay. • Against a garden-wall. • A feel from behind. • A wet handful. • Blind lust. • Into the sperm. • The policeman. • A lost umbrella. • A new sort of washing-basin. • Fears of ailment.

Amidst all this saturnalia of cunt, I don’t believe I ever did anything with one, excepting to feel and fuck it, though in attitudes varied. Recherché erotic pleasures were not in my custom, and not even in my thoughts. Amusements with a man would have shocked me, had they been suggested. His spunk would have up-set my stomach to look at. To put into a cunt which an-other man had just quitted, would have revolted me; yet I was doomed to do all this, unpremeditatedly, on the spur of the moment and opportunity.

I lived then on the western outskirts of London where they were building on what had been and were still largely pleasant fields. About five minutes’ walk from my house was a street made not five years before, and leading out from it a new road, a sixth of a mile long, connecting two main roads, and made to enable the fields on either side to be built upon. There were gas-lights at long intervals, just enough to encourage people to use it at night. The carriage and foot-ways were of coarse gravel, and quite newly made.

Under wheel and foot these roads crunched as people went across them. At one end of the road was a new row of houses, the garden back-walls of which abutted on the open fields, and the side-walls of two formed the entrance to the road, — both houses just then were empty.

It was about eleven o’clock at night, windy and rainy at intervals, and there was a small moon hidden by thick clouds scudding across it. Sometimes there was a gleam of light, at other times all was dark. It was very windy as I came through the road for a short cut, after thinking whether it was safe or not, and just then I met a policeman at the further end, and bid him good night. The crunching of my footsteps on the newly-laid gravel annoyed me, both by its fatigue and noise, so I stepped on to the meadow-land which lay alongside it, and walked quite quietly.

As I neared the street into which it led, I could distinguish what looked like a man and woman standing on the footpath close up against the garden side-wall of the empty house, and well away from lamps. Thought I, “They are fucking or finger-stinking,” so walked further from the footpath to pre-vent noise, and more slowly to see the fun. It excited me lewedly, for I wanted a woman.

As I got near them I was under cover of the back garden-walls. The idea of catching a couple fucking made me more randy. “I won’t, unless you give me the money first,” said a female voice. I stopped, but heard no male reply. “I shan’t then, — what have you got?” the shrill voice said. No audible reply, but I saw a struggle as if a man was trying to lift a woman’s clothes, and heard a laugh. Then I stepped on to the path, and walked on. “I shan’t then, — if you have no money what did you come here for?” came clearly on my ear, though said in a somewhat lower tone. Just as I came to the angle of the wall I saw plainly a fair-sized woman with her back against the wall and a shortish man in front of her, pulling her about as if he was trying to feel her, or lift her clothes. The amatory scuffling prevented them noticing my approach. The woman said as I neared them, “I won’t without the money,” — and then was a hush as I walked on.

What then occurred exactly I can’t recollect, but I said as I was close to them, “Let him have you, and I’ll give you five shillings.” “All right, — give it here then,” said the woman, I stopped, and saw by the small light of the distant lamps that the man had the cap and open collar of a sailor. A desire sprung up quicker than I write this, and what I meant for a baudy joke became the reality of action, — I followed my impulse without thought of consequences.

“I’ll give you five shillings if you let me see you do it.” “All right,” said she — and to him, “Will you?” “I’m right for a bloody spree,” said a male voice al-most inarticulate either from drink or cold. “Give me the money first.” “Certainly, if you let him do it.” “Come round the back of the gardens,” said the woman, walking off with the man to the rear, and well out of the line of road, I following. We stopped. “Give me the money.” “Won’t the policeman catch us?” “He won’t be back for half an hour,” said the woman, “he has just passed.” I knew he had, having met him. We were now away from the lamps, it was dark. “Let’s feel your cunt,” said I getting into reckless baudiness. The man close to us kept chuckling to himself, and I thought staggering, but was not sure. He closed on the girl as I did. “Let me feel your cunt,” said I.

The girl lifted her petticoats, her back against a wall; I put my hand between her thighs, and met the man’s hand on the same errand, — we were both trying at the same spot. “Bloody spree,” said a hoarse drunken voice. We both groped together. “One at a time,” said she. I withdrew my hand, and it knocked against his prick, I laid hold of it, and believe to this day that the sailor thought it was the girl who was feeling it. I clutched it, and a strange delight crept through me as I drew my hand softly up and down his stiff stander which seemed longer than mine. “Hold hard you bugger,” said he.

Excited beyond all thought, I still clutched and glided it through my hand. “Where is your prick?” said the girl. I felt her hand touching my hand. Letting his prick go, “No sham,” said I. “There is no sham,” said she, “where is your money?” I put my hand in my pocket feeling for the money, took it out, and gave it her. “Come on,” said she to the man. Instantly they were close together. “Bloody spree,” I heard mumbled again. “Lift up yer clothes, I can’t feel yer arse.” I felt that her clothes were up. I put my umbrella against the wall, grasped a thigh with my left hand and my right went toward her quim, but was stopped by contact with the man’s prick which was against her belly. “I’ll put it in,” said she. The next instant the to-and-fro movement had begun. I felt the wriggle of her arse-cheeks which I held with my left hand, his hands were now round her arse above mine, and under her clothes. “It’s out,” said she, “stop, I’ll put it in again” — and all was still. His prick had slipped out through his energy. The woman guided it up again, and the backside jogging recommenced. I know what she said, I guessed much what she did from what she said. The buttock movement there was no mistaking.

It was too dark to see. I heard him breathing hard, and felt her thighs quivering and wriggling. Changing sides and stooping, I pushed one arm and hand right round her buttocks, between her thighs from behind, and under her cunt till my fingers passed her arse-hole, felt his prick, and grasped his balls. I doubt whether he knew it, for his pleasure was making him blow like a man who had run himself out of breath. I felt his prick-stem as he drew back, and that it was wet with the moisture of her cunt. Then with hoarse muttering, of “blood-prick spunk, bloody cunt,” I felt him shove and wriggle hard, and then both were stationary and silent. I -kept my hand still groping under her cunt, and feeling his prick- stem from beneath, with my thumb and forefinger.

He did not hurry himself to withdraw. “You’ve done, — get away.” “Let’s fuck agin,” said he. “You shan’t.” As she spoke, his prick flopped out right on to my hand, wetting it. She moved away, the man swore. Mad now with lust, “Let’s feel your cunt,” said I lifting her clothes. She let me. “My God what spunk, — how soft your cunt feels, — let him fuck you again, — I’ll give you more money, — feel me, — frig me.”

I don’t recollect the girl speaking, but she seized my prick whilst I groped up her cunt with fingers saturated with sperm. No disgust now. For the moment I loved it. She stopped frigging. “Put it in me, it’s nicer.” “No.” “Oh! it’s all right, — it’s nice, — put it in.” “No.” “Do, — I want a fuck.” “You’ve just been done.” “You do it.” I yielded, and putting my prick into her reeking cunt fucked her. “Oh! I’m coming.” “So am I.” “Oh! — ah? — ah!” I spent, and think she did, am not sure; but she shagged hard, and squeezed me up to her. The sailor had taken my place, and was looking on I suppose, standing with his back against the wall, mumbling something.

As my pleasure subsided I could just see the man by the side of us working away, I suppose at his prick, with his fist like a steam engine, I felt the sperm oozing on to my apparatus, all around. “Let’s fuck yer agin,” said the hoarse man’s voice. “I’ll give you money to let him,” said I. Out came my prick. “All right,” said she, “let me piddle first.” “Where is your prick?” I said, “does it stand?” “Bloody fine.” I put my hand on it, and grasped it. A new desire and curiosity about a male organ came over me. The woman had pissed, and was standing up, she caught hold of my prick which was hanging out, whilst I had hold of his prick. Then I took out money, and gave all the silver I had, — I don’t know how much.

“Put it into her,” I said, frigging it; it was not stiff, and I was impatient to feel him fucking again. He turned to her front. “Let go my prick,” said he. The girl took it. “It’s not stiff.” “Bloody something,” I heard him say. Again I heard the rustle of the frig and of her clothes lifted. “Your cunt’s bloody sloppy,” said the husky voice, and he chuckled. “Make haste,” said the woman.

“Oh! the policeman!” Half-way down the road I saw the bull’s-eye of the policeman’s lantern. I was now standing feeling my own prick with excitement; but at the same instant a glimpse of moonlight came from between the heavy clouds, and showed me the man pressing his belly up against the woman, and her petticoats bunched up high. The policeman’s bull’s-eye far off was throwing light across the fields. “The police!” I said. “Come further along,” said the woman dropping her clothes, and moving off still further into darkness, I moving off in the direction of the road. My lust went off, — what if the policeman saw and knew me! I got to the road, turned to the left along the crunching gravelled path, walking very quickly, and so soon as I turned the corner took to my heels, and ran hard home, ran as if I had committed a burglary.

Letting myself in with my latch-key I found I had left my umbrella behind me. Then a dread came over me. I had fucked a common street nymph, and in the sperm of a common sailor, both might have a pox, — what more probable? I could feel the sperm wet and sticky round my prick, and on my balls. I had then taken to sleeping in my dressing-room. My wife I thought must have been, according to habit, an hour abed. On entering my room there sat she reading, which was a very unusual thing. I sat down wishing she would leave the room, for I wanted to wash and wondered what she would say if she saw me washing my prick at that time of night, or heard me splashing. But she didn’t stir, so taking out the soap unobserved, “I’ve bad diarrhoea,” I said, and down I went to the water-closet. Sitting there I washed my prick well in the pan, and went upstairs again. (How many times in my life has a sham ailment helped me? — how many times yet is it to do so?)

Fear of the pox kept me awake some time. Then the scene I had passed through excited me so violently, that my prick stood like steel. I could not dismiss it from my mind. I was violently in rut. I thought of frigging, but an irrepressible desire for cunt, cunt, and nothing but it, made me forget my fear, my dislike of my wife, our quarrel, and everything else, — and jumping out of bed I went into her room.

“I shan’t let you, — what do you wake me for, and come to me in such a hurry after you have not been near me for a couple of months, — I shan’t, — you shan’t, – -I dare say you know where to go.”

But I jumped into bed, and forcing her on to her back, drove my prick up her. It must have been stiff, and I violent, for she cried out that I hurt her. “Don’t do it so hard, — what are you about!” But I felt that I could murder her with my prick, and drove, and drove, and spent up her cursing. While I fucked her I hated her — she was but my spunk-emptier. “Get off, you’ve done it, — and your language is most revolting.” Off I went into my bed-room for the night. What I said whilst furiously fucking her, thinking of the sailor’s prick and the spermy quim of the nymph, and almost mad with excitement, I never knew. I dare say it was hot.

For a fortnight I was in a state of anxiety, and twice went to a doctor to examine my prick, but I never took any ailment. I went early next day to see if my umbrella was in the fields, but it was gone, — I wonder who had it. I never saw the woman again that I know of, but had I seen her five minutes after the event I should not have known her, nor the sailor. He seemed to me a young man of about twenty, groggy and hoarse with cold, his prick seemed about the size of my own. She was a full-sized woman with a big arse, but flabby. Though I could not find my umbrella I saw the spot on which it had stuck into the wet turf; and the place where we had played, for a yard or two square was trodden into mud, whilst all around was green.

After I had got over my fears I had a very peculiar feeling about the evening’s amusement. There was a certain amount of disgust, yet a baudy titillation came shooting up my ballocks when I thought of his prick. I should have liked to have felt it longer, to have seen him fuck, to have frigged him till he spent. Then I felt annoyed with myself, and wondered at my thinking of that when I could not bear to be close to a man any-where, I who was drunk with the physical beauty of women. The affair gradually faded from my mind, but a few years after it revived. My imagination in such matters was then becoming more powerful, and giving me desire for variety in pleasures with the sex, and in a degree, with the sexes.