VOLUME 5 CHAPTER 2
False names. • Mrs. M***l**d. • Baudy tales. • Naked by a trick. • My smooth flesh. • The child’s mother. • The hairy bum furrow. • I leave G**n*b*e. • Who was she. • At the town of N*v*s. • Spy holes. • Marital frolics under the bed clothes. • Husband and chambermaid. • Chambermaid and self. • The brooch. • Conflicting emotions, desire, and disgust. • Suzanne’s complaisance. • I leave N*v*s. • At Paris. • The Ball Masque. • Gabrielle and Violette. • Baudy exercises and groupings. • An orgy to exhaustion. • To London.
After her luncheon she left her child down stairs, and came into my room. “When should I leave G**n*b*e?” she asked. “Just before you do.” “Which road are you going?” “Towards Paris — and your road?” “Not to Paris.” “Your name is not M***l**d, but you have entered it so in the hotel-book.” She laughed and coloured up. “No, and yours isn’t — * * * *” “True, we don’t want to know each other’s name, but they were entered from our passports at the frontier, what if the police find we have changed them?” (Passport regulations were very severe then.) “Directly you have got your letter I will leave, I won’t cause a suspicion of you, and if we ever meet elsewhere we will be utter strangers to each other.” This seemed to satisfy an anxiety she showed in a conversation much longer than this. I had begun kissing and hugging, she was cool to me, and without reply resisted my lifting her petticoats, but she mollified as we talked. Standing up at first, we were soon sitting on the edge of my bed, my finger on her cunt, and arm round her waist. It was a clear, brilliant, January day, but cold and frosty. “Let us do it.” “No, I’ve run a dreadful risk.” “Risk it again.” “I’m frightened.” “Feel me,” and out my prick came. She laid hold of it. “Let us.” “My little boy is alone.” “Never mind, let us — I must see your lovely thighs.” “A-h-a, leave off, take your hand away.” “Get on the bed then, love.” She got on. I threw up her clothes, and kissed her belly and motte. Had she come to be fucked, I wonder. — I can’t say. Women are so cunning; but her cunt had just been washed, the hair was moist and not with piddle. Pulling aside the lips, I fingered it and lightly tickled her clitoris, I was standing by the bed side, she laying along it, so that was all I could do with my tongue. Her thighs and belly looked lovely on a beautiful white chemise with work round the bottom. The winter sun shot a brilliant ray right on to her cunt as she lay — it was that which seduced me into the lingual incitement. — Then I laid my head on her thighs, contemplated her charms, and smoothing her belly said, “How many children have you had? You have no marks of child- birth.” “Oh! pull down that blind, I don’t like being exposed so.” “My darling you can stand any amount of exposure, your thighs and belly are lovely.” But she pushed down her clothes, I pushed them up again, she down. — Then rapidly for fear of refusal, I got on to her and fucked right off. Curiosity seized me whilst lying on her, and I repeated the question. She laughed, and the laugh jerked my prick out of her. — She got up and washed her cunt. — I repeated my question. “You don’t know where to look,” said she laughing. “Let’s sleep together to-night.” She shook her head, locked the door between our rooms, and went down stairs.
She walked about the town with her boy; I met her, bowed, and passed on. I barely noticed her at the table d’hote. I ordered a fire in my room, more lights, wine, and cakes, and went there about 8 o’clock (it was dark at about five) and waited till I heard her and the boy’s door closed. Then I knocked — no response — louder and louder I knocked. “Don’t,” said she, speaking through the door. “Come.” “No.” I gave a violent bang, and the door opened. “Don’t make that noise, the boy will hear. I’ll come when he’s asleep,” — and she came.
We sat by the fire drinking champagne, put inquisitive questions to each other and fenced replies. — “You won’t find out anything more,” said she laughing. “Well it’s stupid, I’d better not, nor you of me.” Then I began kissing, talked baudily, told story after story. “Good gracious, I never hear such things,” she kept remarking. “Hasn’t your husband told you such things?” “Never, he never uses such words.” “Not cunt?” “No, never.” “Not fuck?” “Never.” “You’ve heard them.” “Of course I have.” Then on I went in my lewedest strain, charmed with such a listener.
She would not let me take voluptuous liberties, whilst this conversation went on. No she would leave if I did. So leaving off, I began quietly love making, kissing, and cunt feeling. “Come to bed, love, we can talk just as well there, let me look at your thighs as you sit, let me undress you.” — She objected but yielded. I helped her and took off garters and stockings, charmed with the disclosures of her flesh. She carried her clothes into her room; I went with her. “Bring your night-gown in-to my room. It’s so cold here.” “No, you go and I’ll put it on here.” But I carried it into my room, she following me. “Let me put it on you.” “No I won’t.” She took it from me, pulled her arms out of her chemise, which she held up for the second with her teeth, opened the night-dress, raised it over her head, and as she did so, let the chemise drop to her feet; just then I snatched the night-gown out of her hands, and she stood as naked as she was born. “Oh, what a shame,” said she very sharply, and put her hand over her cunt as if to hide it, “give it me now.” — I dropped on my knees, buried my lips in the hair of her cunt, kissing it, and clasping her round her smooth buttocks.
Her struggles were slight. “Now let me put it on, I’m cold.” I rose and holding her close to me, looked at her beauties as well as I could in that position. Then she insisted so strongly, that I let her put on her night- gown. She pardoned me, I undressed, we both sat before the fire and again recommenced billing and cooing. She let me expose her thighs. “Let me see your lovely bum.” “No.” “Do.” — “No.” But coaxed, she at last consented, and stood up modestly with her bum to the fire, whilst I looked at it, felt, and kissed it. — “Look,” said I, with a sudden impulse of lust, which made me desire to show myself; and stripping off my night- shirt, I stood naked with prick stiff in front of her. “Feel me dear, do feel me,” and I placed her hand on my thigh. — In a modest way she felt my flesh all down my thigh, and then up one side. Said she, “What lovely flesh, — You’re just like a woman.” “Many other women have said so.” Into bed we got — and without more dalliance — my burning prick went in her hot, soft, cunt. We fucked, we spent, and lay coupled together long. “Feel my flesh and talk now, love.” She ran both hands over me. “It is just like a woman’s — I thought — men were always hairy.” I uncunted, turned on my back, and she felt my belly and breasts. “It’s like a woman’s, it’s lovely,” again she said. I wondered who and what she was, that she should lay lasciviously enfolded in my arms. “Am I smoother than other men?” “I’ve only felt my husband and you — and gracious Heaven — what risk I am running.” “When were you fucked last?” “Oh, months ago.” She had seen a few men partly naked, working — and some fishermen and labourers, they were all hairy, she said.
In an hour we talked ourselves into lewedness again, and she let me see her form and beauties, but did not then open her thighs. Again we fucked and slept, she awakened, went and listened at her boy’s door, pissed in her room, and got into bed with me — I had a night lamp — and we passed a voluptuous but restless night, which left us weak when the morning came; and in one of our burning, lewed caresses, she said she had never had a child, that the boy was her step-child, and had never known his real mother. That is the utmost about herself I learnt at any time.
For two days she would not let me have her in the day time, but an hour after the table d’hote she was in her room, put her child, whom she had tired out by walking, to bed, then got into bed with me, and we fucked all night. I was in first-rate condition, and it was a sort of honeymoon to us both, but specially to her. My smooth flesh seemed to excite her wonderfully, and on the last night she kissed me all over. The last time I had her it took me half an hour to get an emission, stopping from time to time at the work, but never taking my prick out. She who had her pleasure quickly, with short sighs and clasping me very tightly to her, and had been fetched oftener by my unremitting ramming, groaned, “Oh, do leave off.” “I’m coming in a minute love,” — and I went on violently at the rate of two shoves a second, finishing the fuck almost with pain, and with a sore prick. At daylight we were a hollow eyed, fucked out couple.
The child on the third night cried “Mamma, mamma.” — She must have slept but lightly, for she was out of bed in a minute, awakening me as she got out; he soon went to sleep again, and she came back, shivering, to my bed. She was exceedingly kind to the boy.
She was not a short woman, and had ample flesh, her calves were thin, the thighs swelled out rapidly to fine haunches, her cunt was full lipped. By the last night I had eradicated all modesty in her, she let me look and feel as I liked, and I verified that she had short, crisp hair, like horse hair, along the bum furrow, from her cunt to her back-bone. The hair of her cunt was thick, very curly, and lay close on her flesh. She was dark eyed, dark haired, had unusually large thick eye brows, and was a boldish looking, handsome woman.
She had been twice daily to the poste restante, and every day made me promise to leave when she asked me. One morning “Now you must leave tonight if you can.” I left that night and have never set eyes on her since. From a slight accent, I think she was Irish.
After luncheon that day she refused me. Fatigued sexually as I was, yet the idea of losing her excited me — no she would not but she let me into her room. Then letting down my trousers (what strange incitements come into my mind), I held my shirt up all round me. “Well feel my flesh for the last time,” the invitation succeeded, her hand smoothed and felt up to my breasts in silence. As I hoped, it stirred her lust. “Let me feel you, dear, for the last time.” “Well that’s all.” — I felt her cunt. — My prick stiffened, she felt it, and a few minutes after I was groaning in the delight of having her, rather than the need of ejaculating my sperm. “I’ll get you with child,” said I, as vague baudy thoughts floated through my brain with my increasing pleasure. — “I’ve never been with child — oho-har,” she sobbed out as her spending began. — She told me the same as she washed her cunt afterwards. “I didn’t mean to say it, and I’m running a great risk.”
I had been wondering daily who and what she was, I was surprised at my easy success. Did she want money, or was she only satisfying her lust — she had no servant — said she couldn’t afford champagne — yet drank excellent Claret, had the best rooms — was well clothed — had very fine linen, and lots of baggage. Risking it I said delicately, “If you want money I can lend you some.” — “No thank you I have enough, and have only to write to get what I want.”
We kissed. “I shall often think of you.” She made no reply. “I hope we shall meet again.” “Gracious heaven, I hope not.” She kissed me. “You’re very hand-some,” — she said, then shut the door, and I never have met her since. C C M was marked on her linen.
After the first day we never took but the slightest notice of each other when we met in the town, nor did I dine near her, nor do much more than bow slightly when in the hotel. No one could have guessed our secret amusements unless it were the chambermaid, nor she unless she listened, which was not likely; but fearing that, I slipped into the adjoining bedroom unobserved. The room was empty, and a wardrobe placed against the door, so that hearing there was not easy, and we spoke always in a low tone.
On my road to Paris I stopped at the (then little visited) town of N*v**s. At the hotel was a big French-man and his young wife. I thought he must be commercial. His wife was a young, buxom woman, and I fancied they had not been married long. My bed-room was next to theirs, and I noticed that spy holes had been bored in the door between our rooms, but carefully plugged up, which gave me a desire to have a peep at the lady. It is a delicious sight to see a pretty young woman at her toilet. So with scissors, I pushed open some holes and could see clearly through some of them, a bed, and pot cupboard by the side of it. This so excited me, that instead of going to see the cathedral, and other things I had come to see, I did nothing but watch this lady; and whenever I thought she was going to her bed-room, I went to mine. I have ever been indefatigable in watching for opportunities with women, nothing ever turned me off the scent, no amusements ever drew me aside, when a lewed intention, or hope, had laid hold of me.
After breakfast up stairs she went, I also, and mounted a chair (the holes were high) to peep, but saw nothing worth seeing. She put on her bonnet and went out with her husband. I went out but returned before her. About half an hour before luncheon, she came back, and I had the pleasure of seeing her sit down and laughed. I watched, but her bed was all I could see from one peep hole, and I could not be constantly shifting, so some times I saw her, some times not, and him the same. After a time she appeared in chemise, sat on the edge of the bed, pulled her stockings off, piddled, pulled off her chemise, showed her back-side quite naked for a second or two, put on her night dress and got into bed. He came into view in his shirt, and pulled down the bed-clothes, and she pulled up her nightgown to let him look at her cunt for a minute. She evidently quite understood his wants. Then he mounted her, but it was cold; he uncunted, they covered themselves up with the bed-clothes and fucked under them. I had only the pleasure of seeing the bed-clothes heaving. He had put the candle, which had been by her bedside, on to the wash- stand, and I could not so well see her face as I had in the day time. He then got off of her and went to his bed, taking the candle with him and extinguishing it. She had turned on her side, and seemed to sleep directly he had left her, with the soothing effects of her plea-sure and a cunt full.
I watched all this with intense pleasure, standing on a chair, with my prick out stiff, and feeling it, and longing for a pleasure. I resisted frigging myself, determining to get a woman next day. To my annoyance, I awakened in the night with a baudy dream, and spending copiously on my night shirt.
I passed most of my time when waiting thus, in writing my doings at Naples and G**n*b*e with Mrs. M***l*d. Next morning I did not see them copulating, tho I got up at day break and watched till breakfast. Then I heard the lady say, “I may as well go there at once; and you come to dinner.” Then I watched her go out of the hotel, and fancying there would be no fun for me till night, I thought of going out myself, and in half an hour or so, went up to my room for my great coat. When there, I heard male and female voices talking quietly in the adjoining room. Oh, thought I, she has come back, so got at once to my peep hole.
But the husband was there alone, and I was about to get down, when in came a chambermaid, who closed the door, bolted it quickly, and in a minute was on the bed side with her thighs wide open, and he was tailing her, just where he had done it to his wife the day before. I watched them fucking. The instant it was over, she shook down her petticoats and left the room, in another minute he was out of it, neither washed. I was staggered, and soon after I left my room and saw the chambermaid talking to some travellers at the end of the corridor. Oh, how I longed to have her.
I went out, could not find a whore, came back, had luncheon, and went to my room thinking of the chambermaid, and wondering at her tricks, and her impudence, in doing it in a room with a married man, and where I supposed she must have known there were peep holes. The man and she seemed acquaintances. Then I wondered if she would let me. Impelled by my throbbing prick, which kept urging me to please it, I went up and down stairs to my room, trying for an opportunity, till I saw her in the corridor. She was a good looking, dark eyed woman, seemingly about twenty years old, and was dressed better than an ordinary chamber-maid. I rang for hot water, she brought it, I began a conversation. — It was very cold. — “Yes, will you have a fire, sir?” I knew she would send a man to light it so declined. “You warm me.” “I don’t know how,” said she with such a sly lewed look, that I felt sure she was game. “I’ll show you,” and I kissed her. She resisted after the manner of women, but so feebly, that I easily held her close, and repeated my kiss.
“Now leave off, they will wonder where I am.” “I’m warmer already, ma chere, I’ll give you a lovely cameo brooch if you make me warmer still, and no one but you and I will know it.” “What do you mean?” “Why this,” — and I put my hand up her clothes. She scuffled. “Oh, no certainly not,” but she would not have dislodged a child’s fingers from her cunt, which I got well hold of. “I won’t.” “Don’t make a noise, ma chere, or they will hear us in the next rooms.” “I’m frightened,” said she, “I can’t, I won’t,” — and I thought my chance was gone.
Talking one evening with the friend who had recommended me the house in L***f***d St. (where I had been with Mrs. Y***s***e) on the subject of women, he said that he did not offer servants and that class of women money, that a bit of jewellery caught them much more readily than gold, and that it was very much cheaper. “They may refuse a sovereign or two, they may be offended, but jewellery they can’t refuse.” I had found boots, and bonnets, backed with gold, do very well, but certainly had failed in two or three instances signally, and had missed opportunities in other cases, where a mere offer of love could not be made, with chance of success.
Struck with some pretty cameo brooches at Naples, I bought half a dozen for presents (they were not nearly so costly thirty years ago as now). “I’ve got such a pretty brooch which I’ll give you. Do you like brooches? Look at this.” “Yes,” said she taking it. I caught hold of her again, pulled my prick out, and got my hands on to her cunt. “Now don’t, I don’t like it,” — was all she said, and she stood leaning her bum against the bed, looking at the brooch with her thighs closed, and my fingers fumbling about her cunt lips.
Sure now of having her, I let her go, then rapidly bolted the door, and in a minute had her on the bed with her petticoats up. She meant fucking. I was on her, and my prick had touched her cunt when, my fingers feeling its moisture, the idea of her not having washed the Frenchman’s sperm out of her seized me, and my prick began to dwindle. Tho the fucking took place hours before, tho my knowledge of copulation generally should have taught me that I should find none of his leavings, even if she had not washed, yet all occur-red just as described, and then followed in succession, an absurd variety of contradictory emotions, and actions, which must have astonished her.
I rose on to my knees between her thighs hurriedly, and holding my prick looked at her. Shall I ask her if she has washed, r thought. “What’s the matter?” said she hurriedly. Mentally then I saw the husband fucking her at the side of the bed, and my prick stiffened, again the idea of his sperm lying in her haunted me, I felt I could not fuck her, and thrust my fingers up her cunt to feel if his sperm was there — as if it was a more delicate thing to feel it with my fingers, than with my prick. “Oh, you hurt!” she cried out loudly. Then down I fell on her forgetting the sperm, thinking only of the two as I had seen them fucking. My prick was like a horn, my lust got furious, and with fierce thrusts I spent in her. “Oh, you hurt — oho,” she sobbed and she spent with me.
This conflict of desire and disgust, a prick stiff one minute, the next dwindling to flaccidity, stiffening again as a different thought flashed through my brain, and furiously emptying its semen in a violent paroxysm of pleasure into the cunt which a minute before it had re-fused to enter, strikes me as one of the singular events of my amatory life.
She interrupted my tranquillity by uncunting me. “Let me get up.” — I got off of her, my mind again recurring to her not having washed, but she washed now, turning her back to me, when a bell rang. “It’s the call bell,” said she, rising quickly from the basin, “look and see if any one’s in the corridor.” I did. “Yes.” “Peep, and tell me when no one’s there,” in a whisper standing at my back. The bell rang again. “There is no one.” Out she went, leaving the brooch on the pisspot stand.
Temporarily satisfied, I soon wanted her again, kept peeping out of my door, and at an opportunity beckoned her. “Presently,” said she in a whisper, as she passed the door, “there are travellers about just now.” In an hour the corridor was again quiet and she came in. “I cannot stop long,” said she, getting on to the bed without hesitation at my request. I got by the side of her, had a pleasant grope, kiss, a partial look, a few minutes baudy talk, and then I was up her again, and we had the nice second fuck of two people who wanted it. As our privates unjoined, the call bell rang again, “Sacra” said she, “what does she want now?” — and off she went quickly with her cunt unwashed this time. She had not asked for the brooch which I had put by, tho I saw her for a moment looking round the room, as if seeking something. She promised to see me after the table d’hote.
It was quite dark when I went to my room — no travellers were in the rooms on my corridor excepting the couple in the adjoining room. — I lit my candle and kept my door ajar. Suzanne kept her word and came. “Have you washed your cunt,” said I, “since we made love?” “Of course,” “Where?” “In my room.” “Let’s look at you.” “No, I don’t like that.” But I would. We got on to the bed. “We must not make a noise,” said I, “for there is a married couple next to us. Who are they, do you know?” “Yes.” It was a manufacturer. He used to live in the town, and had not been long married to a lady whose relatives lived there. “I heard them fucking last night,” said I. “That’s what they married for,” she supposed, laughing as she said it. “I dare say he has fucked you before he was married, as you know him.” “Mon Dieu, non.” How I longed to tell her what I had seen, but did not, and then we enjoyed each other. I gave her the brooch, which pleased her immensely. No, she could not sleep with me for fear of being found out — but her room was by itself, two flights up through a door, which she indicated. She would leave the door ajar. Following her at distance, she showed me the way by going straight to, and entering the room.
The married couple came home. I saw him fuck his wife. At the hour appointed, all was silent. I slipped up to the maid’s room and had pleasure with her, went back to my own room, passed a tranquil night, awaking just in time to see my neighbours fucking on the bed. After their breakfast they left the hotel.
Then I slipped into their room, and found that apparently after the peep holes had been bored, their room had been painted and traces of the holes obliterated. Those freshly opened by me now alone showed.
I passed the entire of two days there, keeping much to my room. Suzanne slipped in to me at my request, and I gave her pleasure several times daily. In the intervals writing the narrative of my liaison with Mrs. M***l***d at G**n*b*e. Then having fucked myself out of my rutting fit, with a kiss I left her, and left the town for Paris, stopping at several towns on the way, and using spy-holes whenever there were any, but saw nothing worthy of recording.
In a week or two I was at Paris, and went to a bal masque at the opera house, Rue Lepelletier. A tall woman, masked, dressed as a man entirely in white, but not as a Pierrot, tho with a Pierrot’s hat on, and with breeches which terminated at her knees, was dancing a furious cancan with others. Her legs were flung about high and low, her gestures were lewed and suggested fucking. I, with a group, stood much amused at the dancing. At a pause of the dance she accosted me. — “Je vous connais, Monsieur.” “Mais non ma belle.” “Mais oui, souvent je vous ai vu a Londres.” “Qui etes vous done.” “Donnez moi un petit souper et vous verrez.” — She spoke in a high pitched tone to prevent recognition. Dancing recommenced; I thought nothing more of it so moved off among the crowd. A dozen women in masks had said they knew me. I was soon after-wards talking to a beautiful creature with exquisite legs, and dressed as a ballet dancer, and was thinking of seeing her legs with her silks, when the man-woman in white appeared. — “Ah, you run away from me then!” “No.” “I know you.” “You don’t.” “Bet.” “No.” “Will you give me a supper with my friend here if you do?” “Perhaps.” She lifted her mask, and I saw Gabrielle. The ballet dancer moved off, muttering. Gabrielle, her friend, and I were soon supping at a cafe, and an hour after were in Gabrielle’s room. “Not your friend,” said I. “Mais oui. You will find Violette charming. Si cochonne, elle fera tout ce que vous voudrez. Do you remember that night with two at * * * Street? We will so you amuse to-night.” And the two women and I went together to Gabrielle’s bed room.
Indecent familiarities began, obscene if you like; the more libidinous, the better they seemed to please me. I felt Violette’s blonde cunt as she straddled across me. Whilst sitting, Gabrielle knelt and had commenced her favourite minette with my prick. It was her fancy not mine, but lasciviousness is contagious, and I yielded. Violette was partially undressed, Gabrielle still in man’s attire. She explained to me the way the trousers were put on, and how opened when she wanted to piddle. “No, don’t take them off, Gabrielle. I’ll fuck you with them on at the bedside.” “Ah, si,” and laughing, “then you can fancy you are buggering a man.” — We stripped the other lady who was a blonde, laid her across the bed, put pillows under her arse to elevate it, and Gabrielle stooping, licked her cunt, whilst I putting my prick into Gabrielle’s cunt from behind; we all took pleasure together. We two fucking, soon spent, the other lady was longer. Gabrielle, who seemed as if she could not take her mouth away from the cunt, persisted till she had finished Violette twice. Most of the time I looked on from behind; my prick, still more or less stiff, up Gabrielle’s cunt.
Alas, — these delicious, enervating, sexual amusements will end. The stiffest prick will leave the loveliest cunt. The randiest cunt feels full and satisfied. The strongest and most agile tongue fatigues with minette. — The gamahuchee even needs a little repose. So our groupings terminated, our bodies separated, and with moistened genitals, we sat talking and looking at each other. All were still lewed, lascivious, libidinous, tho every letch we could think of had been gratified. The women had sucked each other. Both had resuscitated my prick with their mouths when other means failed, tho I did not ejaculate under that suction. — I fucked both of them more than once, and at day break was fast asleep lying close to Gabrielle, whilst her friend lay snoring on a sofa. At midday we got up and breakfasted. — I fucked them both and left.
After a week’s amusement mainly with Gabrielle and Violette, but with one at a time only, I returned to Lon-don. There were signs of spring.
The little episode at N*v**s set me trying at every hotel I went to afterwards to see if there were any spy holes, and I often found them. I had seen them at hotels before, and had looked through them, but had no very satisfactory sights when I did. I really cannot under-stand why I had not been more on the look out for them. I think they were more numerous in France then than in other countries, and that the plan and arrangement of the rooms then favoured them. — At all events I have since looked most cunningly after them. Just about this time also I had begun to shave in a new and careful fashion, and had bought a gimlet to enable me to fix a hand glass to the windows for that purpose, and now began to use it at times for making holes, or opening those which had been made and stopped up.
When I found that in my room there was no opportunity of peeping, I changed it as soon I could. When arriving at an hotel, I waited to see which room was selected by young women, or by a young married couple if there were any, and if possible got the room next to theirs. If there was no door communicating with it, I found some objection and refused it. Thus I got many opportunities, and had some very pleasant, and at times, chastely voluptuous sights.
With Gabrielle and Violette, my libidinous tricks were much the same as I had with Gabrielle at London. The orgy at Paris was but a reproduction. I have had Gabrielle with another woman together since, and see that she loves licking another’s cunt, as well as prick sucking.