VOLUME 5 CHAPTER 11
Camille again. • Intentions of fidelity broken. • About myself and good fortunes. • Shall I print my liaison with Victoria? • Miss Victoria B*c*n. • About omnibuses generally. • A foggy night. • The late omnibus. • Dark inside. • Vic’s hurry. • Her friskiness. • The end seat. • The unknown lady on my right. • Thighs felt. • Cunt touched. • Vic’s garters. • Risky gropes. • With Vic in the fog. • Against the railings. • Baulked. • Her convenient cousin. • Two assignations. • The unknown lady at J***s St. • Her form. • Cunt. • Large clitoris. • Belly indications. • Hot arsed. • The gin bottle. • Views in the looking glasses.
Directly I was well enough, Camille gratified my concupiscence. She was a sort of magnet to me at times, and her philosophical licentiousness in act and talk charmed me so much, that I thought I would keep to her, I soon however ceased to see her, for never in one year have I had more racy adventures, more charming intrigues, a greater variety in age and condition, and nicer women and girls to fuck. They fell to my embraces accidentally and without difficulty. So much so, that I am almost inclined to be conceited about my attractions, but will only remark that I was in the very prime of manhood, did nothing to exhaust myself, was always ready with my prick, and seem to have nearly, altho not quite, overcome the hesitation I have had at times, and which I have spoken of before. I first had an adventure with the sister of a friend, which perhaps I ought never to have put on paper; but writing these reminiscences gives me great secret pleasure, writing them indeed seems to have become a habit which I cannot break off. When written, I tore the paper in half which narrated this liaison, and a year or two afterwards carefully gummed the pieces together to preserve it. — Such was my inconsistency. (The lady and her brother are, I hear, dead and no harm can be done by narrating the liaison now.)
In my youth I knew a Mr. B*c*n. He was the son of a very rich man, tho only a merchant, and who lived in such style that we who lived then in the greatest luxury, until my father died, seemed poor by the side of them, and they rather looked down on us. — He how-ever failed and died, and his son came in only for a very small share of a splendid business. The son married, had three children — and his sister who had been expected to be a heiress, lived with them at the time I write of.
The sister had been engaged to be married. The day before the wedding, her intended died suddenly, her health broke down, she left London, and went to live with an aunt in the country. Then people kindly said she was in the family way, and hinted she had had a child. She was away I believe, but do not know, for many years. She was certainly thirty years old now.
At the time I write of, B*c*n’s wife died, his sister came to take charge of his house, and he had come to live about a mile from our new residence. — I renewed our acquaintance, and an attempt was made to be on visiting terms, — but the women took a dislike to each other, and it dropped, tho they were quite civil to each other when by chance they met. — I and B*c*n however called on each other occasionally.
The sister was shortish, square built, almost broad, and was plump, had blue eyes, auburn hair, a superb pink and white complexion, and an unusually large mouth with good teeth in it. — She had a most unpleasant voice which seemed as if she was suffering with hoarseness, and had a fastish expression, and a peculiar look in her eyes, which I did not like or under-stand ( — I see now it was a mask to cover up her unchastity, which was not satisfied as much as she wished) but she was pronounced handsome and strongly resembled the Queen, so here I shall name her Victoria. When with her brother at a ball at our house, I saw that she had big white breasts, the only thing which gave me desire to see more of her; but so little had I desired that, that had it not been for a chance, it is probable I never should have possessed her.
Omnibuses at this time were but little used by poor people, the fare to my neighbourhood from Charing Cross was a shilling [it is now three pence]; there were but few and they loitered almost as they liked. — The last one at night usually loitered till it was full, or until those inside insisted on its going on. — Some years before that time there were no lights inside them, the gas lighting on the roads of the suburbs was feeble, and when the roads were wide, the inside of the omnibus on dark nights was nearly, if not quite, dark. The oil lamp in the omnibus often went out, no one seemed to take any heed of it, and I have in the dark felt women’s thighs, and had my prick felt by strange ladies with whom I exchanged words inside the omnibus, without ever being caught at it. Women who were fairly well dressed and seemed quite respectable played these pranks, and one of these incidents I am now going to tell of.
Nearly all omnibuses at that time held thirteen passengers, and had one end seat where a passenger sat with his back to the horses. — Those on the either side seats, sat with their knees half side ways. — Ladies, unless it was very hot weather, went usually to the end seats to avoid people passing them, and if I saw niceish looking women at that end, I went there so that my knees might press thoughts and sensations. [Real ladies went by omnibuses in those days, very poor people could not afford to ride.]
In Cockspur Street one pitch dark, misty, cold night in February — at about 10:30 p.m., seeing an omnibus I resolved to go home by it. A female wrapped up well, hurried past me towards it to secure a place. — “Why Miss B*c*n, is that you?” Flurried, I saw, by my accosting her, — “Oh yes, I hope there is room, I’m so dreadfully late, I don’t know what my brother will say.” — There was room, she went to the end, and I to the middle seat, she apparently did not expect I was going by the omnibus. — On the other side sat a lady who as well as I could see by the mere twinkling lamp, was tall, handsome, and bold-faced, and who eyed closely both me and Miss B. After delay the omnibus moved off, soon the lamp flickered, the conductor enlivened it, but soon out it went; and the omnibus was in darkness.
I could feel Victoria’s knees against mine and liked it, and at once thought of cunt. I chaffed her about being late, and she made some lame excuse. — “How close we are packed, we are nearly as close as if we were in bed together.” “Are we?” she said laughing. I got gradually lewed and bold — I had dined well — and put my hand familiarly outside her clothes on to her thigh. — “If we were to kiss no one would know it,” said I, “it’s dark enough for any naughtiness,” said she laughing. As the omnibus passed a gas lamp, I saw her big white teeth — and her eyes fixed on me, and then I thought she had had wine, and gently I pinched her thigh, and begged then her pardon. “It’s so dark I can’t see what I’m about.” “Oh you hurt.” “Hurt me in return.” “Nonsense.” I pinched her again. “Be merry, but be wise,” said she. — Then I put her gloved hand high up on to my thigh. — “Pinch me,” said I, and she did. — A cock-stand ensued. — “Pinch me all over,” said I, placing her hand on the slope of the thigh inwards and near my tool. Then we both laughed, and I pinched her harder. “You are pretty merry,” said the lady on my right. That brought us to our senses. — In the jolting and noise of the vehicle I thought no one could have heard us, and was sure no one could see us. — “What does the Lady say?” said Vic. — I told her. “Take care,” and she pushed off my hand from her thigh. I put it round her bum and pinched what I could, but she had thick winter clothes on.
The omnibus stopped for full ten minutes for passengers at a large public house, where the lights showed us to each other. The person on my right began to talk to us. — She looked much and boldly at me. She was very handsome and perhaps thirty, and spoke like a lady. I came to the conclusion that she also had been drinking, for it was unusual for women to talk to a strange man in an omnibus. — I fancied her breath smelt of liquor.
The omnibus, when stopping, got crammed full, and went slowly and noisily jolting on its way over a quite newly macadamised road. — The mist changed as we got further out to a fog which filled the omnibus, and all was dark. — “How cramped my legs are,” said the lady. “I like yours against mine, they are so nice, and it’s so nice and warm,” I replied. — To my astonishment she gave me a gentle punch in my ribs with her left hand. — “Oh for shame.” “Stretch them out,” said I, encouraged. “I can’t.” “Shall I stretch them apart for you?” Another pinch. “What’s the best way of stretching legs?” “I don’t know.” “Why, put some-thing between them,” I said. Another pinch. — All was said in a low tone. No one could have heard but us two, no one could have known what was going on. — A fat old man who stunk of brandy and water was on the lady’s right, and he was snoring so loudly that people laughed. — Vic could not hear me, tho opposite to the lady, through the noise in passing over the rough road.
She’s randy, thought I, — who is she? — A kept woman perhaps, whose man doesn’t fuck her enough! — and I wished Victoria out of the way. — I ungloved my hands, and put my right hand on her thigh. — She made no resistance. — “They are close together, they are cramped really, open them wider.” — I can’t, this old snoring man’s legs are against mine.” “Lift one over the other.” She did. I kept my hand there and began gently pinching her thigh. — “That’s your garter,” I whispered, feeling a little lump. “Are you sure?” “I’ll make sure.” Stooping a little, I dropped my right hand down, and pulled up her clothes. — There was such a weight of them that my hand could only get up gradually. — I felt her calf, and that it was, in silk. — She let me. “Oh your heavy clothes,” I whispered. She put the leg down and far from the other, — half moved her bum as if to ease her position, — and the next instant her clothes being looser, I had one hand on to her thigh above her garter, and pushed it slowly higher up till my little finger was buried in the thatch of her motte, and my other fingers lay a little down grasping her left thigh, but I could not get them far enough to feel her notch, and the weight and pressure of her clothes against my wrist was almost painful. She put her hand down, but only to pull her clothes forwards fearing perhaps that passing a gas-light might disclose our position. All that increased the drag on my wrist and arm, for I was using my right hand, that being next to her, and my knuckles were outwards till I reached her knee and now was only sideways on her thigh — a difficult position, with heavy clothes against it.
At that moment Victoria remarked, “How dreadfully we are cramped, there must be more people than there ought to be in the omnibus.” “I’ll sit forward,” said I, bringing my bum to the edge of the seat, and pressing towards the woman on my right, gave Vic more room. “Thank you,” said she. Now my hand got more to the front, and slipped side ways between the lady’s thighs like a leaf, and the tops of my longest fingers lay just touching her warm cunt lips. — The man next to her at that minute awakened and called out, “Stop, stop,” and rose up. I withdrew my fingers like lightning, down slipped her clothes, and no one to this day perhaps but she and I, know of our little lewed game.
The old man got out, and also one or two passengers which gave us room. “Can you get a light,” said some one. “The oil’s out,” said the conductor. “Can’t you get on quicker?” “You can’t see a yard afore the Posses noses.” On went the omnibus. — My cock was now standing like a horn. “Take off your glove,” said I, in a whisper. I had on a great thick winter cape or cloak. — Pulling out my prick I lifted the side of my cloak and put her hand round it. — “Oho — you,” said she, and began feeling and squeezing it, and at last frigging it; but not wishing that fun, I stopped it and hid my machine.
Then for a minute I talked to Victoria to prevent her wondering at my speaking with the lady. “How shall I get home?” said Vic. “I will see you home.” Again my hand went on Vic’s thigh outside and pinched it near her belly. — She didn’t resist my lewed tricks. — The idea of playing them both with an omnibus full, de-lighted me. — The idea of Victoria knowing nothing about my tricks with the lady added to my pleasure. Secure in the foggy darkness, and with more room, and her thighs opening wide to let me, I now had a sort of backhanded feel of the lady’s cunt. — I could not twist myself round away from Victoria, so sat nearly at the the edge of the seat, feeling the lady’s gap, till she suddenly pushed my hand away. Then again I put her hand on my prick. “Do you live about here?” said she. “No, the other side of the water — I am only going to night to a friend’s where I am stopping for a day or two.” “Who’s that lady?” “His sister — and our meeting was a mere chance.” “Is that true?” “Certainly.” “Where do you live?” “At ****P’ I re-plied, and — “Do you live about here?” “No,” said she. “How will you get home in the fog?” “My husband will meet me at the Turnpike.” “Are you often at Charing Cross?” “No.” “When shall you be again?” “The day after tomorrow,” said she, after hesitation. “Meet me, and let’s have a talk together.” — In a few words more she agreed to be near the Nelson Monument at half past six, two days afterwards.
“Stop, you’ve passed the Turnpike,” said the lady getting up. “We aren’t there yet,” said the conductor. “Stop, I’ll get out.” — Quick as thought, I had slipped my right hand up her clothes on to her backside. — The omnibus stopped with a jerk, and it threw her back into a sitting posture, half on to my knees half on to Victoria’s. Begging our pardon, she got up and out of the omnibus— it was so dark that I could not distinguish faces from bodies.
Two minutes afterwards the omnibus journey ended, and all got out. The fog was so thick that the street lamps could not be seen fifteen feet off. We had been an hour and a quarter, doing a half hour’s journey. I gave Vic my arm, intending to escort her home, and felt awfully lewed, and somehow sure that she would permit a liberty, tho I was surprised at that discovery. She seemed to me all at once to be a frisky bitch, in-stead of my friend’s sister, the daughter of the wealthy merchant. I kissed and was kissed — we stood still in the fog — I pressed my hand against her belly. — “Let me,” said I. “What?” “Do it.” “Oh likely,” said she, laughing and pushing away my hand; but putting my arm round her, I pressed her gently up against the railings of some gardens abutting on the road; and got my fingers on to her cunt. — “Let’s do it.” “You’re mad.” “None can see us, no one is out.” “I won’t, people will pass,” she said, in a low tone, but her thighs were open. I was sure she was lewed, and that she was enjoying the friction of my fingers. Pushing aside the lower part of my cloak, I had my prick ready, and was pulling up her heavy winter clothes, when men’s voices were heard, and two came along talking loudly. We moved on, dropping both petticoats and cloak over us. What the men fancied I know not but jeeringly, one remarked, “I hope we ain’t disturbed you.” — Lost in the fog in a minute, we still heard their voices and laughter and “fuck” said very plainly, but we were quite disconcerted, and she would let me do no more.
Then I asked her to meet me — and she named “the day after tomorrow” — I had just arranged to meet the unknown lady on that day — no, I was engaged. — “It must be this day week then.” “Agreed, and at half past five, it’s dark then.” Suddenly she said she was going to sleep at her cousin’s that night — and in five minutes I left her at the cousin’s door. — She had said before that she didn’t know what her brother would think about her being out so late.
Victoria’s permission, her behaviour when in the omnibus, and now her sleeping away from her home set me wondering, for she seemed so much up to snuff. The next day I made enquiry about this cousin, and heard she was the widow of a clerk in the Bank of England who had been dead about two years, and had left her enough to live upon — but she let her first floor. — She had lived there some years, and all looked respectable, but as to Vic it was clear that she knew she was going to meet me for fucking, and I was staggered at her doing so, considering who and what she had been, and what she was now, — and this cousin who came to my knowledge thus suddenly, — staggered me, she seemed like an accomplice in Victoria’s pranks.
On the appointed day, I was by the Nelson column, and saw a well grown woman walking quickly with her veil down. — She walked past me, I followed not recognising her, but knowing that if she returned when she got to the end of the square, she would be waiting for some one. — She did. — I bowed and said “Kensington.” “Yes,” said she lifting her veil with a laugh, and putting her arm at once in mine. — In five minutes we were in my favourite house — she seemed agitated and kept her veil down, saying “Let’s walk quickly,” — which we did.
She threw off veil and bonnet directly she was in the room. I kissed her at once. How delicious is the first illicit kiss of a pretty woman. — “I’m so glad you’ve come, I half doubted you.” “Ah who’d have thought it,” she replied. Down on the sofa we sat questioning each other, mutually curious. I dare say both told lies enough, she more, I expect, from the sequel than I — having certainly more to hide.
But almost directly, and whilst chatting, my hand went on to her cunt. Her fat thighs offered no obstruction to my fingers, our mouths joined, and we were silent. She in the voluptuous enjoyment of being felt, I in feeling her hot slit which speedily moistened with lust. Then I gave her my prick to handle, it was throbbing for her, and soon was ungovernable. A prick shows its lust at once to the female, a woman’s cunt gives less easy indication to the male.
“Let’s do it,” said I rising. — At once she began undressing I did the same, and in shirt and chemise only, in a couple of minutes we mounted the bed. “Let’s see your cunt love.” Open went her thighs, I saw for a moment a full lipped red gash in a thicket of dark hair, my belly met hers, I clasped a fat arse, and in five minutes in tranquil pleasure, my prick lay still, weltering in a cunt as full of spunk as ever cunt was, and she speechless was kissing me softly in a voluptuous satisfied manner.
Tho there was a large fire, and two gas lamps burning, she wanted to get under the counterpane. Pulling off our shoes we did. With slabbered prick, and cunt brimming over, we lay down. Feeling each other, the gluey state of our genitals adding to our lasciviousness, and baudily we talked. — “Do you like fucking?” said I. “Do you know any lady who doesn’t?” —Was I married — was she — when was she first fucked — when did I first do it. — These and a few similar lewed questions seemed to come quickly and unpremeditatedly; this was one of the lewedest talks I ever had with a lady at so early a stage of acquaintance. In a short time by squeezing, fumbling, and groping, I was stiff again, buried my prick in her lubricated cunt, and we fucked and dozed off in each other’s arms under the counterpane. We had not been in the room half an hour.
“I must wash,” said she awakening, and as if it had only just occurred to her. — Getting up she did so — I did also. — “Now I must see your cunt,” said I. “You may look At it,” she replied laughing. “Take off your chemise.” “I shall be cold.” “Come on to the sofa.” — Off went her chemise. “Take off your shirt.” — Off I threw it. Then I looked at her cunt, and upwards and downwards from armpits to anus. —Oh those delicious investigations when made for the first time on a fine woman, or indeed almost any woman for the first time, for a lustful curiosity steals over me at the idea of seeing any female naked, from an infant to a middle aged one, — and she was a splendid tall creature, with large breasts, hairy arm pits, a dark fledged, full lipped, mature, bold, handsome looking cunt, with a larger clitoris than usual. It was indeed so much developed as to be quite a feature, but there were but small inner lips, hanging from it. Her whole form was fleshy and solid, her face handsome but bold, with large dark fiery eyes, and splendid teeth showing through full lips, and now I guessed her to be thirty-eight years old.
I stirred the fire, and moved the cheval glass, so that in two glasses we could see ourselves reflected. — We kissed — I laid naked on her. — She rubbed her hand over my flesh from my naked rump up to my blade bones. “What lovely flesh you have,” said she. “You don’t like hairy men then.” — She did not answer, but burst out into loud laughter. — Then I laid half by her side, half sitting, and she the same. She seized my prick, held it fast, and put her tongue to mine, whilst I felt her cunt. But restlessly her eyes first turned to the chimney glass, then to the cheval glass, and I saw she was delighted at seeing herself with me naked in the reflection of the glasses.
“Did you never see yourself reflected in a glass naked with a man like this before?” “Never,” said she, emphatically. “Do you like it?” “We look very beautiful, don’t we,” she replied. — Then I got up, lifted her limbs, put myself in attitudes for her to see, and pushed my prick in her face. — She held me to her, nestled her mouth in my balls, and kissed it long. — Again I laid on the top of her naked, on the sofa. — “Oh-o,” said she sighing — “it’s lovely to be naked together,” and putting her hand down she inserted my prick in her cunt. —”Let’s get on the bed, we have more room there.” — She got on the bed quickly, as if she had not been fucked and within the hour thrice had my spunk bedewed her cunt. She had come out for a fucking and meant to have it, and was either a strong lewed one, or her cunt had been a long time neglected. But I set her down as having strong passions.
Then we reposed, for the third fuck takes it all out of me for a time, and it cools most women whom I have had. — So under the counterpane we got again, tho the room was hot as an oven — and kissing and tonguing we laid close to each other, she holding my prick with all its moisture, I feeling her large clitoris. Then we talked, till she turned on to her back, and I laid my head on her breasts as a pillow, and we slightly dozed.
I got thirsty and suggested wine and other things. — No, nothing but gin. — A bottle was brought and we drank it with water. — It’s the only time that I have had a lady in a brothel who asked for gin — Then we put on shirt and chemise, and coals on the fire — and in semi-nudity sat again on the sofa, talking and kissing, my free hand (the left I may add) roving from breast to cunt. — After a time she slipped her hand under my balls, and we talked, her eyes fixed on the looking glasses. Now and then she moved her limbs to contemplate ourselves better, and every now and then she kissed me. I could get to know nothing about her. — “We haven’t come here to learn all about each other have we?” said she. “You’ve been asking me enough questions.” “And how much do I know?” she replied. — We laughed. — “How often are you fucked? — you can tell that,” said I. — “Oh, once a month and twice on new year’s day.” “How often do you have a lady?” “After each of my meals — and twice in the night regularly,” said I “Oh, you story,” said she, squeezing my prick, and putting her tongue to mine. — I left off questioning, and we talked about baudy houses, and the price of the rooms, about which she seems intensely curious.
More than an hour must have passed in talking, when the unknown gave unmistakable signs of her cunt being overheated. She ceased talking and looking in the glasses, her lips were close to mine, kissing and delicately tonguing. She gave soft sighs as if my feeling her cunt gave her pleasure, — and she frigged me, but so slowly and gently, that one could scarcely notice it. — “Shall we fuck dear,” “Yes,” said she, at once. — “Let me look at your dear cunt again,” and I knelt down by the side of the sofa. — Her thighs opened wide — and for a time I gazed at the very red orifice. — Then (I had been thinking about it), I began to look on her thighs and on her belly, where the ample curly hair of her motte ended, — to see if there were marks of childbirth. I kissed all about it whilst looking, to hide my object, and every now and then opened her cunt lips, and put a finger up her, for the amplitude of the fat gap and clitoris stirred my lust.
“What are you looking at?” said she. “To see if you’ve had a baby.” She pushed my head away, closed her thighs, and sat up laughing. — “What does it mat-ter to you if I have or have not?” “Have you?” “Yes and no — you will know more perhaps by and by, — can you tell?” I replied that I could — and indeed for a year or two past I have been very curious on this point, and many of my courtesans I have asked if they had had a child, and if they had got them to point out to me the peculiar signs of an over strained belly. — My lady however did not refuse me further inspection, but I could not see any clear signs of it, — but risking it, I said, “I see you have.” “Really! you are clever,” was all she remarked, got on to the bed, and soon I forgot every thing in the probing of her luscious cunt.
Then we lay quite quiet, she with eyes closed — cuddling quite close to me, and clasping me as we lay side by side, as if in most voluptuous dreaminess. I was tired, but my brain always baudily at work by the side of a woman, kept thinking her over. — So we lay speechless long. At length — “You are thinking of fucking,” I said. “Yes,” said she with eyes still closed. “Let’s go to sleep.” “I am frightened we shall sleep too long.” Then I put her thigh up over mine, and my hand grasped the gluey gap. I rubbed her clitoris till she gave a shiver of pleasure, then she roused herself and washed her cunt. I looking on, noticed that it was a surface wash only. — Then with chemise and shirt on, we went back to the sofa, and looked at ourselves in the glasses. “Do you always wear silk stockings?” said I. [They were twice the present price — but silkier.] “Only sometimes,” she replied.
Our talk was of all sorts of things, tho we still put sly but useless questions about each other. At length – “What does it matter if we like to meet here, who we are?” said she. The time went on, her conversation was most charming. — She drank moderately, — and had never yet pissed, till rising. “I must pee,” said she, lifting up her chemise slightly, and looking for the chamberpot.
My letch came on at once. “Do it here and I’ll see you.” “I won’t.” “You must.” — fetching a pot, I put it in front of the sofa. — She refused for a time, till she could wait no longer, and then pissed over my hand half a pot full. — “Look what that’s done,” said I showing a stiff stander. — Then I covered the whole surface of her cunt with my hand, and so dried it. — Odd tricks of that sort are always occurring to me. — “I never should have thought that any man would do such a thing,” said she. — I told her some of my exploits with women and that bladder fluid, which led to further history of my doings with women, and on saying I had seen, and felt, and fucked, six or seven hundred. — “Oh, you story teller — I don’t believe any man but the Grand Turk has, and oh! your making me pee on your hand — oh! it’s incredible.”
It was nearly ten, she said she must think of going, — but still we sat half reclining on the sofa, feeling each other and kissing. “I’ll fuck you before you go.” “Can you?” “Come to the bed, — no stop, — kneel on the sofa instead, and we can see ourselves.” — She was amorous enough for anything. — I pushed the cheval glass and sofa about, till with the chimney glass we could see every movement. —Then stripping off our linen, she knelt, and after kissing her marbly arse, and fat protruding hairy cunt lips, we had ten minutes hard fucking, and she cried out — “Oh — how — stiff it — is,” — and spent as I did. — Then with backside gently quivering, and I with trembling knees, we kept joined long, both silent and looking in the glass, till my prick slunk out of her cunt.
Immediately she poured out a tumbler full of very strong gin and water, and drank it right off. My suspicion about her condition in the omnibus crossed my mind. —Was she going home by omnibus? — “Certainly not.” — “Why the other night?” “A whim.” — She dressed quickly. Yes I’ll meet you again on Saturday. She did not wish to be seen walking with me; but when quite dusk, she would be near to the end of the street, — I was to go to the house when I saw her, she to follow me in a minute. “And mind I can only stop an hour or so.” — She made me promise then not to follow her. — At leaving I made some offers. — No — she herself would get a cab directly. No — she had plenty of money to pay for it. — “Let me kiss your cunt before you go.” — I did, and we stood for a minute in front of the cheval glass, feeling each other’s genitals, — our tongues meeting. Then she took an-other tumbler of strong gin and water and departed — leaving me very curious, but pleased with her full and voluptuous libidinosity, and the baudy amusements we had enjoyed.
On the Saturday, it came off exactly as planned. We were shown into a back bedroom without so many glasses. — “It’s not such a nice room as the other,” she remarked. — I rang. — “The front is engaged, sir, the upper front if you like.” — There we went. — (Her veil carefully down.) There the glasses were much the same. She began stripping instantly, I followed, and for a minute or two we lay on the sofa, looking and feeling; then she frigged at my prick so impatiently, and sighed so, that at once on the bed we went and fucked passionately, and her intense enjoyment added greatly to my pleasure.
She washed her cunt directly afterwards this time, and piddled. — Whilst sitting on the pot, “There is a glass there,” said she alluding to one against the partition. She hadn’t noticed it before. — “Yes, and we can see ourselves fucking in it.” With our tongues together when fucking before, we had not noticed this possibility in the other room. — But now she frigged up my cock, looking over at us in the glass whilst she did so, and when next we fucked both our heads were turned towards it, and I lost her lovely moist mouth. Then we fucked a third time, and at each succeeding embrace she seemed more and more impassioned. I’ve never had a woman who held me so tightly to her as she did when copulating. — In a hurry she went off as before — promising to meet me on the following Thursday, and stop late. The looking glasses were an exciting novelty to her, as I have found them to other women. She said they excited her and that she had never seen herself fucking in a looking glass before. [It is a fact that then when in the actual movements of love I cared but little about looking glasses, my physical enjoyment in fucking was so absorbing, but I have liked them as I grew older.]