Argyle women. • Curiosity. • Female spite. • A lover of athletes. • Artistic libidinousity. • Reminiscences of the widow in ball dress. • A lovely blonde. • N**l**e H****s. • A perfect fit. • Sympathetic embraces. • My restlessness. • Her coolness. • Nascent affection. • Her absence and return. • Her funny little maid. • Refusal, and insistence. • Clapped. • A month after. • A gamahuching frig. Her disappearance. • Four years after. • At a ball. • Ten years after.

For some time before and after this, I went to the Argyle rooms two or three times weekly, and had fully a score of the finest women there. I changed my women frequently, and satisfied my whims. The tallest, then the shortest, I took for contrast. One I had heard was so voluptuous that she would fuck a man silly, and I had her. One I had for her bold eyes — an-other because the Duke of R* ** * *d — had kept her, another who boasted that two of the biggest pugilists of the day had had her, for I was curious to learn some-thing about the genitals and copulative vigour of the bruisers. The lady told me much, and perhaps a good many lies about them. That woman, I heard from other women, was known to have a letch for big, powerful men, and the lady herself told me of several she had had besides the bruisers already mentioned.

A gay lady whom I went home with shortly after, told me spiteful stories about this lecherous one, when she heard I had tailed her. Said that if she took a fancy to a cabman, or a butcher, she let them have her for love. A big soldier, she would take home to fuck her even if she were hard up for money at the time; — at which my informant affected’ to feel great disgust; but it neither surprises, nor disgusts me. I don’t see as the woman had gone in for harlotry, why she should not gratify her lusts as much as I do. Perhaps fucking is her only real pleasure. — One woman whom I went home with got maudlin, but she fucked me dry, and said amidst tears which she shed at intervals copiously, that fucking was the only thing she lived for, adding often, “You do fuck lovely, you do, I’d like to sleep with you always.” But I never had her afterwards.

When I saw an usually handsomely dressed woman, the charming widow of whom I have already told as laying on the bedside in silk, satin, and diamonds, came into my mind; and if her looks pleased me, I went home with that lady. — After her out door garments were removed, it was, — “Don’t take any thing more off, I want to see your cunt, just as you are dressed, let me feel you. — Oh you have drawers on (sometimes). Take them off, but nothing else.” Then on the bed side, I saw their charms up to their navels; then placed them, to begin with, in a lazy careless attitude on the bed, just as they might be if they had lain down to take a nap by themselves, and showing little more than ankles. Then I pulled up their clothes partially, and then up to their thighs, not even then showing their cunts; and I looked, made them roll and move about on the bed, as a restless sleeper might, and so I saw them on all sides in natural, semi- nude attitudes, restraining my impatience to see their cunts, which it was my desire to see.

Then I went to the end of the room so that I might see the voluptuous picture from the distance. — “Pull up your clothes so that I can see your motte — there — just so, as if you were feeling your quim — put one leg up so that I can see your cunt well — open your thighs more — turn on your side so that I can see your cunt well from behind.” — All this usually amused them, but occasionally they objected angrily. — “You are a cure” (a cant phrase then), was often said. Then closer I saw all their charms. — I loved to see the lace, and Vandyked or flounced petticoats falling here and there carelessly about their limbs, — sometimes hiding this thigh, some times that, some times half their cunt. These were charming pictures to me.

One of the postures in which I nearly always had them last before fucking them, was kneeling on the bed with their clothes dropping naturally over their limbs. Then I lifted their petticoats first up to their knees, and looked at them, then over their backsides, and after having had a good look at the hairy pouters and notch, I brought them round on to their backs on the bed side. — My throbbing prick by that time over- powered my wishes for further artistically libidinous postures, and I fucked them there and then.

And what appears to me not a little singular, after my experience at the station privy, after the dislike, and the intense dislike I had even to think about a woman’s fundament, I begin now with these gay ladies when in bum-to-front posture, to look from their cunts, past the intervening division to their arseholes, to see what the tight wrinkled orifices looked like, to study them, and even touch them at times with my finger. I begin to think that no part of a nice woman is anything but charming. The having seen and touched a woman everywhere, adds to my sympathy and liking for her. Strange that this should come about in the short space of three or four years. Am I subject to revulsion of feelings on sexual points — or is it that the scope of my desires is enlarged, and I now take in more of the female form for ministering to my lewed pleasures.

This brought me at times funny remarks from some of the lovely libidinous creatures. — Said one, “None of that — that’s virgin.” “My dear it is only curiosity.”— Another turned herself round suddenly and laughed.— “What are you laughing at?” “Ten pounds for that, and pay down.” “My dear I’ve no intention of putting in there if that’s what you mean.” “I dare say not, but men have strange fancies.” — That woman put strange fancies into my head, for I feel sure that she wanted ten pounds for stretching her sphincter — and think from what she said afterwards, that she would have taken the stretching without the ten pounds, had I desired it.

One night toward the end of this continuous change of women, I saw there a very lovely creature, a half blonde of middle height, of faultless feature, and with teeth and complexion exquisite. — At a glance she seemed to me to have all that I loved in form. She moved about without noticing the other women, or only spoke to one or two quite briefly, — “and seemed as if she did not belong to the class.” — Other women I noticed looked after her and some spitefully. “There is N**l*e H****s,” I heard some say. I was struck immediately with her, with a desire to be in her society, to know her, speak with her, quite as much as with a desire to have her: lust indeed for the moment seemed without its influence. [I have had a similar wish, and sudden attraction towards other women, to whom I have taken a liking — a liking of which no doubt the root was lust — but which in the first phase, lust for was for a time forgotten or dormant.]

No doubt a desire to fuck her, to be part of her body, as it were, for the time, must have flashed through me, but the carnal want if I had it then (and I’m not sure) was for the moment eclipsed by admiration, and a feeling which may perhaps be called pure love.

I addressed her politely. “May I have the pleasure of going home with you?” “I don’t recollect you, have you been introduced to me?” “No, but you may introduce me yourself, to yourself, in any way you like.” She laughed, looked at her watch and then at me all over.

— “I don’t want to leave here before eleven, my brougham won’t be here, and I am expecting some one.” “I’ll wait but may I sleep with you?” “Yes, perhaps, I’ll see.” Then for fear of subsequent unpleasantry, I said after a little reflection, “I can only give you so much.” Again she looked me over quickly, and said, “Very well,” with a laugh.

We went home in her brougham to B****t*n S****e

— I did not speak a lewed word on the road — I felt delicate about it. “You didn’t offer me any supper,” said she on her arrival. “You didn’t ask.” Her servant brought her some. — “Will you give me some champagne?” “Willingly; shall your servant fetch it?” “I have some in the house.” We both had some, and some cold meat, then went to the bed room, and I there kissed her for the first time, and she me. – “Oblige me before you undress.” “What?” “Lay down just as you are, and let me see your charms unless you have drawers on.” “I have none,” and laughing she got on to the bed. I threw her clothes up so as to show one leg and half of her belly, and the other leg partially, and went to the other side of the room to con-template her pose. Her limbs were white, beautiful in form, and she looked exquisitely voluptuous as she lay with a bit of the delicate fringe of her cunt filling up the triangle of her thighs and belly; silk stockings and kid boots, fitting to perfection, added to the charm. — I rushed up to her and kissed her motte, then rapidly undressing, got into bed, she leisurely followed. By the time she had piddled I was wild with anticipation of pleasure to come. — “No, leave both candles burning, my love.”

She cuddled up to me, in a winning quiet way. It was a coldish night, the sort of night when the naked flesh of a woman feels most exquisite to me, as it touches my own. My prick lay squeezed between our two bellies so close had I drawn her. — “How stiff it is,” said she laughing. — I kissed her as if I could devour her, then loosening her, my hand felt all over her cunt, my fingers went up it. I restrained myself from coition, but almost groaned with lust. — “Do it,” said she in a sweet little voice. “Let me see your cunt.” — She turned on her back (her nightgown already up to her breasts), opened her thighs, and I saw a perfectly lovely cunt in the midst of a light auburn silky thicket. — Then with a thrill and murmur of delight, I put my prick up it. — I thrill with delight at the recollection as I write of it now, and in too short a time we died off in each other’s arms, with throbbing, ecstatic pleasures. Can the joys of paradise be greater than those I feel when my prick moves for the first time in the smooth, moist, warm cunt of a lovely woman, when that cunt, in its slip and profundity, seems made for my prick, as N**l*e H****s seemed made for mine — a perfect fit.

“No don’t wash.” “Yes, I always do.” “You shan’t.” “I must,” and she did. “I’ll look at it well if you do.” “As you like.” — I washed my prick, and we laid on the bed, and I looked at her from back bone to navel. — How I revelled in the sight. — “Now are you satisfied?” — “Yes, for a minute, but I could look you all over for ever.”

Then I cuddled her. “Let me go to sleep.” “No, I must have you again.” — She laid feeling my prick, I her cunt. We were both very quiet, — she was not a talker I found. How delicious was that quiet feel, and the rising voluptuousness gradually stealing through me. I stiffened. — “Put it in.” “Not yet love, let me feel you longer.” — Again we were quiet. “I shall spend if you keep on — put it in.” — Then into her and up her I went, and had a delicious rest inside before movement. How exquisite she looked as silently we lay, how perfectly her vagina seemed to fit my prick. A throbbing grip of her cunt hurried me into action, — she spent with me, — and seemingly enervated, turned and went to sleep without washing this time.

In a couple of hours I awakened — it seemed a sin to awaken her, but I did by lascivious touches. — What odd fancies I have with women. With one I do one thing, — with another something different. I wonder if other men have such baudy whims. Puffing down the clothes and unskinning my prick, I rubbed it gently over her naked bum. Then I wetted her bum with my spittle, and rubbed my prick there till it was erect, then got gently out of bed and pushed my prick near to her face, it delighted me to be doing so, and she unconscious. Then laying down I tried to insert my prick in her cunt from behind, which awakened her.

“What are you doing, what do you awaken me for?” said she angrily. “Let’s do it.” “I shan’t, you’ve done it twice, you may do it again in the morning, — I never let men do it more than twice to me — I won’t.” “Then let me feel you, there — just — just so,” and I slipped a finger partly up her cunt from behind. “Oh don’t, your nails hurt,” said she turning on to her back to escape me. My hand slipped over her lovely haunches, I raised myself on my elbow and instantly my fingers were on her clitoris. “I can’t bear men sleeping with me, — I nearly always lay awake all night, — I was nearly asleep,” said she angrily. — I had been as I often was at first with women, quite delicate in my phraseology. — Now I talked lewedly, coarsely, her cunt excited me, I kissed her all over incessantly, — I smelt her cunt, and much wonder I did not lick it, gradually she yielded, laughed and opening her thighs,

— “Oh what a lewed beast you are,” she said. — I got between them at once. — She had refused my tongue before but now she joined it to hers. — “Oh, you beast — how lewed you’ve made me,” and sympathetically moving her thighs, silence came over us, as my prick thrust deep, and short, and quick, as we mingled our spittles, and my sperm shot out into her cunt again. Soon now we were both asleep, my wet prick trailing over her lovely thigh, she on her back with thighs open.

But I could not rest. Tho I had had plenty of fucking recently, I felt with her as if I had not had a woman for a month. Something in this woman stirred my lust in its innermost recesses. I felt spooney. I could not help awaking her, and I roused her lust, for she responded, and we fucked, and fucked, till no sperm would come from me. — “Oh what a lewed beast you are,” she kept saying, and then she spent. — At length nature insisted on repose and it was eleven o’clock before we awakened. — She had quite recovered her coolness. — Yes she had slept well. She rarely did with men. — She felt she could sleep by the side of me tho a stranger. — She did not know why. — No I could not have her the next night. And mind, not such another night, when I did. — I could come three days hence, she was engaged every night till then. She went to the Argyle just to see friends, but whether she went there or not did not matter. — Look at her letters. I did, and saw several asking the evenings she might be disengaged. — She took my money as if it were dirt and I departed.

Another and another night I had her, my heart began to beat with a feeling of love and affection for her, and spite of her I roused her lust and we fucked till prick and cunt were sore. — Then she went away with a friend, and I saw no more of her for a month. She then had moved to another house. I saw her once or twice there but she would not let me sleep with her. Then I was away for a little time, and called on her on my re-turn one morning. — She could not see me, she was engaged. — Again I called in the afternoon. Then she was out, her little maid said, and smirked at me, and behaved funnily. — “You won’t see her, — oh dear no, even if you call again. — I wouldn’t call again if I were you.” — I tipped her half a sovereign, and then she said Mrs. H* * * *s was at home when I called in the morning, and that no one was with her, but she would not see me. She would be back presently. — I would wait I said. — “Oh pray do my dear, but I’ve told you not mind,” and she began trying on bonnets of her mistress which were laying in the room. How did she look. “Shouldn’t I get gentlemen if I had fine bon-nets?” “Yes if you had a fine leg.” “It’s not so bad is it?” said she pulling up her clothes to her knees, and dropping them.

I began chaffing her. “You’ve made my cock stiff.” “Oh fie.” — “Look at it,” and out it came. “Oh fie. — I’ll tell my husband.” “Married?” “Yes,” — her husband was a potman at a public close by, and not good for much.
— “He fucks you?” “Yes he does it at times.” “Don’t tell Mrs. H****s you’ve seen my prick.” “Oh lud no. I shouldn’t be here long if I did — now don’t you wait, it’s no good — I wouldn’t if I were you — you’d better not. We are going to see our mother my dear. Don’t you see we’ve got new bonnets to go in?” all said in a jocular manner, “We’ve had enough of it for the present — we’ll have a rest.” — “Ah,” said I, “she’s got a lover she is going away with.” “Perhaps she has, perhaps she ain’t.” “She won’t go without some one to fuck her.” “She’s had enough of fucking,” said the little maid. “Now what are you waiting for — it’s no good, she won’t see you if she comes in.”

This went on for an hour or so — I thought the little woman was light headed, or half screwed, and tired of waiting, left at last. — “Don’t call again it’s no use,” were her parting words, but I did at about nine that night. — “She’s not in,” said the maid, but I pushed her aside and rushed up stairs into the bedroom, and there was N*ll*e. — She was angry — she was engaged. She would see me tomorrow. But the next morning I was off to L*v**p**I. — Then she was taciturn, no she could not, she expected some one she said, all the time scarcely looking at me, but at the wall and lights. — Then I swore I would not go till I had her, and thinking more money was wanted I offered her more. Then with her clothes on she mounted the bed and I fucked her twice. She laid in a dreamy way looking at the walls, scarcely a word could I get out of her between the operations, and I don’t think she spent with me. She remarked once that she would dismiss her maid for letting me pass up stairs.

Next day I went to L*v**p**l and the morning after, found I had the clap. I know it must have been from N**l*e, for I had been keeping myself chaste with the hopes of having her. — Her strange manner came to my mind, her maid’s funny manner as well, and I felt certain later on that the maid had tried to prevent my seeing her mistress, knowing that she had some ailment. I wrote N**l*e directly telling her frankly, and I came back to London, not savage, but feeling wounded, hurt, but with the kindest feelings towards her. I can’t think how I was so foolish, but I flattered myself she did not know that she had the ailment and that I was doing her a service in telling her. — The little maid opened the door. — “Oh-la, here we are again,” said she in her jocular manner. “Not at home — we are not at home. — We’ve gone to see our mother. — Call again in a month.” — She looked at me enquiringly, but I made no disclosure and went away. — My clap was a bad one. I called when well at the end of four weeks or so, saw N**l*e and told her I was not angry, and that such things would happen. — But she denied most indignantly that she had caused it, she had never had an ailment in her life, some beast of a woman must have given it me, but not she.

I longed to see her lovely form and exquisite cunt, and tho wisely I could not have her, I asked. — No I was a beast with that ailment and she would not. “Don’t be foolish — I can’t hurt you. — Let me.” The more she refused the more I longed, — longed so that I got furious and scarcely knew what I did. I put all the money I had on the table, my lustful infatuation was so great. The money conquered. She laid at the edge of the bed, I kissed her cunt and thighs, I groaned to have her, but my prick stood with a violent pain in it, and the doctor that morning had told me not to excite myself; that altho I could do no harm to a woman if I fucked her, I might do much harm to myself. — But my lust was irresistible. Almost involuntarily I pulled out my prick and with two or three frigs spent in a spasm of pain and pleasure, whilst holding one of her white thighs with my left hand, and I buried my tongue in her cunt, and sucked and licked it in lustful fury. — With a sudden effort she freed herself. “You beast you’ve frigged yourself,” said she. I confessed it. — “You shall never have me again then.” — “Why did you not have me if you are well enough, when I allowed you?” Then we quarrelled.

I drove home. The irritation of my prick was great and it pained me much, but I was mad with lust and frigged myself again, moaning as I spent. — Then I took medicine, the clap returned with virulence, I had the worst and most painful features, sleepless nights, and more than a month passed before I was well. — When I called on Mrs. H* * * *s she had left, and gone no one knew where, and years elapsed before I set eyes on her again, and as there is so little more to tell, I may as well complete at once the narrative of so much as I know about her.

In the month of * * * four years later, I went to a public ball. Public tho select, the tickets for ladies if not well known, being obtained with great difficulty. It was a splendid affair, the toilettes were superb, the men mostly in uniform. — A friend nudged me. “There is a lovely woman just by you.” I turned round and saw N**l*e H****s — superb in jewels and lace, and more beautiful than ever. — “Do you know her,” said he. — “Know her? why she gave me one of the worst claps I ever had.” “Hush!” said he, “she is the wife of Captain W**t****ny.” She knew me again I am sure. — We danced in the same quadrille, and I even touched her hand in it, but of course we made no signs of recognition. Her manners were composed as usual, and I don’t think she even coloured up when she saw me. I thought the whole evening about her, and my cock stood repeatedly.

(Three or four years after I fancied I saw her in an elegant close carriage in the park, but thought I must have made a mistake. — Talking full ten years after-wards with a friend at * * * * he introduced me to R* * * *s. — “That lucky fellow,” said my friend, “inherited R**s fortune. Don’t you recollect he married that lovely little N*l*e H****s. Both she and Lord R are dead, and he then came into the property.”)

Sweet N**l*e — I have often thought of your cunt when my prick has been in another woman’s, and of my infatuation which soon would have become desperate love, had it not been for that clap which was perhaps not so bad a thing for me after all.