Volume 7 Chapter 3
Madeline’s lover Richard. • Mrs. B**t*n’s mischief. • Complaisance in cab and house. • Bertha the fruitress. • Male chaffing. • An erotic vision in the shop. • Is she virtuous? • Madeline again. • A ruptured membrane. • Mutual fucking sensations. • Inheritance of a marbly rump. • A woman’s virgin spend. • Absent at Paris. • Madeline’s lover is reconciled. • Onanistic emissions. • French letters and cunt sponges. • The influences leading women to copulate. • Madeline’s intentions and admissions.
She rose, picked up the brooch, put it on the table, and put on her bonnet silently and hastily. I arose feeling ashamed, enclosed my still swollen machine, and said I was so sorry for what I had done, I couldn’t help it, that it was her fault. — She made no reply beyond, “I’ll never dine or speak with you again, you’re a blackguard.” “If you’d only let me.” — “You’re a scamp.” I chattered on, she begged me to be quick, “I’d go without you but I can’t find the place, what will Mrs. B**t*n (her milliner friend) think about my being late?” — I didn’t want to injure her, so rapidly paid my bill, and we got to the rendezvous late, but not too late. — There was Mrs. B**t*n alone, her male friend had gone. — She approached Madeline and said, “Richard’s been here and has gone off nearly mad. — I couldn’t say you were not here, so told him you’d gone with a lady friend, etc., etc.” — Madeline began to cry, saying to me, — “You’ve made plenty of mischief for me,” — and turned sulky. The two held a long conversation apart, Mrs. B**t*n seemed excited. — Madeline cried, till, with a rush for the train, we got seats.
It was then a long way across London, from the station to the neighbourhood where Madeline lived — I got into the cab with them — Madeline sulked all the way — I knew where she lived, and she insisted on being set down at the end of the street. Only her companion alighted with her — I bid them good bye, hoping her young man wouldn’t be angry long. — Madeline said it was a misfortune for her my meeting her at the Palace — and we parted. I had heard from Madeline that her friend the milliner lived in the heart of London, not far from another workshop, and knowing she would have to get there, put my cab away from the end of the street, and on foot waited myself in sight of Madeline’s house — I had noticed in the cab Mrs. B**t*n’s glances, which were curious, and as much as to say, “I know what you’ve been up to together.” She seemed also I think a little lewed — I had heard she was a widow. She was about thirty, and a smallish, thinnish, matured, well shaped looking little woman. — Really feeling anxious about Madeline, and hoping not to have done her any injury, I waited to catch Mrs. B**t*n to make enquiries.
It had taken a long time to get from the Palace to * * * (done in exactly half the time now, owing to railways.) It was about half past nine when Mrs. B**t*n appeared, and was astonished to see me. Would she take a seat in my cab, and I would drive her home. — She accepted at once. — In a minute afterwards. “What have you two been up to together?” said she inquisitively, and laughing suggestively.
“Nothing.” I had known Madeline a girl and liked her looks, met her by accident at the Palace, and, going myself to have some food, offered her some. Nothing more. — “Was that all?” We had been a long time. — “I wish it hadn’t been all, for I’d give twenty pounds to have her.”
“Hush,” said Mrs. B**t*n putting her hand right over my mouth. — “I don’t believe you” — but I repeated it, said she was a lovely creature, but I wouldn’t on any account harm her, and directly I got to
St. and sat Mrs. B**t*n down, I’d go to the Argyle and get a woman for the night.
“You’re a nice boy. — I’ve heard of you before, you’d better go home now.” “No,” said I, “I’ll have a woman first.” In five minutes after I was kissing Mrs. B**t*n, in another five minutes was feeling her cunt, ten minutes afterwards was in a baudy house, and five minutes after that, a dose of sperm had been administered to the red lipped, hair encircled, moist, warm, aromatic organ, which she, like other women, had lying between her thighs, bum hole, and navel. — As quickly as possible afterwards, she had another dose. — Neither of us undressed, for Mrs. B**t*n, tho evidently liking prick exercise in her, and altho a widow, also lived with a friend and got home at early hours.
In the interval between the fucks she told me all about Madeline. — She believed her virtuous, and didn’t believe she’d been fucked. I made her say those words. It is a great pleasure to me to make a woman who is not gay speak baudily. — A young man, of her own condition in life, meant to marry her. He had come to the Crystal Palace to meet her, having heard by chance that she was going there. — Mrs. B**t*n’s male friend incautiously said she had gone to dine with a gentle-man, and the sweetheart in a rage went off, swearing he’d have nothing to do with her any more, and would blow his own brains out. Mrs. B. had told Madeline that she had told Richard it was with a lady she had left. That was to calm her — I have since fancied Mrs. B. was not a true friend.
I met Mrs. B. two days afterwards and fucked her. She took a little present this time. Madeline had heard nothing of her sweetheart, and thought she had lost him, so did Mrs. B. — I fancy from her silence that Madeline had said nothing about garters and brooch, or my spending over her thigh, she had said that I behaved as a perfect gentleman. “Well, I shan’t meet her again at the Crystal Palace or elsewhere,” I observed, but I tried to catch Madeline on her road to and from her work, and failed. I expected that she and her swain had made it up, and that she avoided me. I did not go near Mrs. B**t*n, and almost forgot all about the affair, for I was, and had for a month or two previously, been on the cunt-hunt, and now was on the trail rather smartly, which put Madeline out of my mind, and I had given up all hopes of getting her. — Dinner, wine, baudy talk, and trying to grope her, the sight of my prick, my spending on her thigh had all failed. — No, most likely she’s been fucked, but sees the chance of marriage, and will run no further risks; so ran my thoughts, and in my heart I did not blame her.
[The narrative now goes back a little. — The liaison with Madeline has been told hitherto consecutively – (a custom usually observed in this history of my secret life). But one with a girl named Bertha, commenced whilst I was courting Madeline, — the amusement with the postage stamp lady already told of — and a Paphian ball yet to be told of, also took place whilst my amours with Bertha and Madeline were going on, and I find it difficult to arrange the narrative in my usual manner, so much were all these amours intermixed and also mixed in the manuscript.]
A few months before I met Madeline, I had been a good deal into the city speculating. — Buying some-thing one day at a very little fruiterer’s shop — I noticed a pretty girl who served there. — She was a shortish, sturdy, dark haired, and dark eyed, and had a look and manner superior to shop women generally. I thought her twenty but she was not eighteen. I shall call her Bertha.
The mistress had two shops and was usually at the other and Bertha alone at this one. The customers seemed almost exclusively well to do city men, and usually bought their goods after midday. They chaffed her at times broadly, which she didn’t seem to mind, and at times returned. — A look in her eye made me think she was amorous, women can’t help feeling lewed, and how they manage to look perfectly modest with clipping, perspiring cunts, puzzles me. — At length I found myself going often to the shop, and then chaffing her like the others. — Then I noticed some of the men say “Keep the change, I can’t bear coppers” — so to ingratiate myself I did the same. One day I snatched a kiss which she didn’t seem to mind at all, and giving her a sovereign for some goods, and a half sovereign being among the change, I pushed it to her and told her to keep it. — She eyed me fixedly and curiously for a few seconds, and then refused it. “Oh, dear no, that’s too much,” said she, pushing it away. — On saying that I should take it out in kisses, — “That you won’t.” She would not take it, and a few days after being in the shop, which happened to have a quick succession of customers, the following occurred to me. — One of the strangest, and most complete, yet almost unconscious efforts of erotic fancy I’d ever had. It more resembled an erotic dream.
Without any sexual desires as far as I know, and certainly without any sexual intentions, I sat looking at her pretty face, and particularly at her mouth, which was unusually small, and with little handsome fat lips; lips which make me want to kiss them whenever I see them. — After awhile looking — I wondered if her cunt had thick lips. — I know the idea of their being fat on account of those of her mouth being so was absurd; and that a small mouth does not imply a small cunt, nor thick lips above, mean thick lips below; but there is no accounting for the association of ideas, however absurd they may be. Then I felt suddenly a desire to see her cunt and to fuck it, and sat thinking about its size, its hair, and its looks, whilst I talked to her and looked in her eyes, and her mouth. Then my cock tingled with lust, then swelled, then stood erect and hard for an instant, and just then she turned to some one who came in, to serve him.
Whilst she did so I shut my eyes, violent lewedness seized me, and I fancied my sperm was spurting into her — I had all the pleasure of imagination, without the physical reality. — I saw a lovely little fat lipped cunt, with a little bush around it, and fancied I saw the voluptuous pleasure in her eyes as my prick gradually entered. — Ah! what exquisite joint sensation of mind and body, experienced as the glans is first pressed by the cunt and feels its road. — No doubt the female experiences similar thoughts as her cunt feels the distention by the smooth prick tip, and she knows it will search it to its innermost depths.
Said I to her, “I’ve been dreaming awake about you, whilst you were serving those people.” — “What was your dream?” — “It would make you blush if I told you.” — “Then don’t tell it.” — Then I began wondering if she were virgin or not, and half thought not, for I saw a young man attempting to kiss her as I entered the shop soon after, and thought it improbable that a mere shop girl, serving well dressed men and gentle- men both young and old, could have so long kept her cunt to herself, under the temptations which I fancied she must be subject to there. I began to long for her, tho I was fucking * * * * * * about that time, and varying her pleasures with Paphians both English and French, and a big German woman as well, tho I soon had done with her.
I came to the conclusion at last that she was no more virtuous than she should be, and that I might as well be one of the happy ones. Yet I didn’t approach the subject till one day, seeing another fellow kiss her, I said, “Hulloh, Miss Bertha, I’ll tell Mrs. C*h*n.” — The same young man I had talked with one or two days before was eating strawberries and laughed with me. “We all kiss you, don’t we Bertha?” said he. — “No, don’t you tell stories about me to that gentleman, I let some of you, and Mrs. C*h*n knows it, I shouldn’t be here long if I made a fuss about every thing that’s said to me. Miss *** was turned off because she did, and you lost her her place.” Then she turned to a customer who entered. — I remarked to the man that I supposed she was pretty intimate with some fellow. “I expect so, and plenty have tried.” Then, nodding to me, he left.
Directly afterwards she told me not to believe what that man said, he was a nuisance and was always annoying her, but was such a good customer that she didn’t like to offend him. — “He wants to get to bed with you, Bertha.” — “He’s like a good many more then, but they’ll be disappointed,” said she, looking me in the face and not all abashed. — “Don’t disappoint me or I’ll hang myself.” — “The sooner you do it the better.” — This coolness astonished me. I didn’t think about what a hardening moral process incessant amatory chaff is; how soon a young maiden learns to return it, and how pleasant veiled allusions to marriage, to the pleasure in having company in bed, and other indirect allusions to fucking, are, — how they keep the mind and body in a slight state of voluptuousness, particularly pleasing to a woman, who feels, among other things, complimented by the allusions being made to her; for a woman always feels pleased at a man’s desiring to possess her.
Then I was sitting on a little stool in the shop one day, and she told me a lot about the business and her-self. — She lived with an aunt, and nightly went home by herself. Their business was generally over by eight o’clock, sometimes they kept open till ten, if the weather was bad for keeping fruit. — “Come and sup with me, and say you’ve been late at shop.” — “No thank you, I know what you mean by that.”
Another day I took her the last of my Neapolitan brooches. — She was delighted. Soon after she had to stand upon a stool to reach something down, and I risked putting my hand up her petticoats. “That’s not fair,” said she angrily, getting down. — “I didn’t expect that of you.” — “I’m mad for you, dying for you, I’ll not leave you alone till I’ve had you.” — “I’ve heard that said many times.” — “Good bye, I shan’t come again.” — “Why.” — “Because you won’t let me.” — “Good bye, don’t be foolish, I should be sorry if you don’t come, you talk nicer than most of those who come here, but I know all your little games. — There’s a middle aged man comes here, who’s had the impudence to offer to keep me, and give me five hundred a year; and I’ve seen his wife and his children here with him — a blackguard.”
Thought I, she’s a little out of the common, but if she’s not been already fucked, she will be soon. I went there less often, then was away from town. — When I returned she wondered why I hadn’t been. — “Because you won’t come and dine with me.” — “It will be no good to you if I do” — again I put my hands on to her ankles, and she seemed less angry — I did it another day, but couldn’t get to her garters, she was too quick for me.
“If any one comes in and catches you trying that on, you’ll lose me my place; kissing doesn’t matter, but improper things do.” — “Come to dinner with me then.” — “Oh! you do so plague me. I will some day, but it will be no use to you, mind.” — There the matter rested, for, having lost money, I ceased speculating, and did not go to my stock brokers, and amused myself by tailing my doxies.
Again I went, and, chatting with a man in the shop whom I knew a little of, he said that he thought Bertha up to snuff, and that Mr. * * * * * had had her. She seemed very pleased to see me, and I, being very bold and hot that day, got my hand up her clothes on to her thighs, at which she was excessively angry and declared that if I ever made such an attempt again, she would neither speak to me, nor serve me, and would tell the shop owner — “and I will never dine with you.” — Off I went and didn’t see her for some time.
A few days afterwards, I met in the street Madeline (I cannot make up my mind whether she threw herself in my way or not). We talked, and she began to cry. She had never seen her young man since. — He had written to say he had done with her, and it was all my fault, she said. I couldn’t admit that. It was an unfortunate accident, nothing more. — She never would meet me or any one else again, but it ended that day in her agreeing to dine with me the day following, to talk over what was to be done.
At the * * * * * hotel, I took a bed room and sitting room, leading out of each other, and took a small trunk there; feeling sure that she had been poked, and was coming to poke, and that the hotel would be more comfortable than a baudy house.
She was punctual, had a good appetite, and, tho crying at intervals when I mentioned her Richard, was in good spirits. — She was still dressmaking at Mrs. ****’s, but being out of sorts through the loss of her young man, had been fit for nothing; and her mistress had told her she must improve or go. Madeline seemed to me in a reckless frame of mind about that, said she must do what she could. If she must leave, she must; she couldn’t help what her parents said, and so on. Hers was the sort of Devil-may-care manner which I have seen in women of her class who are tired of their work and position, and who want pleasure. — In fact as a main cause of that, and perhaps unconscious of it, want fucking; and are half disposed to get a prick up them at any risk. — Her coming to meet me again after what had taken place between us led me to think she might be in that state, and from her answers to, and sometimes evasions of, my questions, I came to the conclusion that Richard had been up the red inlet to her body, which she had between her thighs like other women.
Dinner over, we sat on the sofa and I began kissing her. — She was so far complaisant. Talking about Richard, she had heard he was now, “Sweet upon an-other young woman, and, altho she then whimpered, said she didn’t care much. I found that it was the loss of a husband, and one who was so respectable, that she fretted about, more than the individual. I began to doubt then if she’d had Richard up her, and joked her about her not getting a bedfellow so soon as she’d expected, offered myself instead, talked about matrimony, on the absurdity of a man and woman who liked each other not doing before marriage all that nature prompted them to do, and how they lost pleasure, which they couldn’t take too young. She sipped wine and got amative in manner, I held her to me, and our kisses were many. — “That’s enough,” said she, as if it had just occurred to her that she was giving way too much.
My prick now got on the ramp, and I resolved either to get her or let her go. Tho I’d promised her never to refer to what had taken place at the previous dinner, I asked her if she’d washed her thigh since, and if she looked at her chemise after it. — She coloured up and rose to go, I pulled her down, said I’d forgotten my promise and couldn’t help it. — I’d like to do it again to her, or if she’d let me, do something better. — Women are so cunning, you never can make them, until they have long had a man, confess their lust; but I’ve no doubt that, with this talk, Madeline’s cunt was beginning to sweat inside. The half bashful way she looked at me, and the ridiculous resistance to my kissing which she now offered for a second or two, made me feel sure that she wanted fucking at that minute, and was struggling against it. — Women can control their passions to a certain point, and then they droop, and yield helplessly all at once, I have found.
She really was angry once, yet returned each of my kisses. “Have you the garters on?” — “Yes.” — “Let me see them” — and I made the attempt. — “No, no, you shan’t,” and she struggled, but I got my hand on her thigh.
She got it away, but in another minute her head was over my shoulder, I was kissing now her ear, now her cheek, and whispering baudiness. — I had reduced her to silence, whilst speaking of my sperm on her thigh when it ought to have been in her cunt, and she have had pleasure as well as me, whilst my prick discharged it. — “Let me feel your thighs. — Do — if you don’t I’ll do that again.” — “Oh don’t,” said she in a half whisper. — “Well, let me see your garters, I will,” and, letting go her waist, I pulled up her clothes, saw garters and thigh, and, stooping, kissed the flesh before she could prevent me. She gave a slight cry, but next moment I was clasping her round her waist, again her head was on my shoulder, my fingers on her cunt, and I was whispering about carnal love into her ear, and titillating her clitoris.
[How commonplace it all seems as I write this afresh now. — To how many women have I done as nearly as possible the same, and how many under similar circumstances have behaved like Madeline? It can’t be varied. — A woman’s a woman, a cunt’s a cunt, every-where. Voluptuous sensations are common to all, lewedness makes the man attack, and the woman yield. All the world over it’s the same, and ever will be. — Yet each woman who is fresh to me in copulating preliminaries gives as much pleasure to me as if she was the first I had. I feel as if I never had such sensual felicity before as at that moment, and was still to have with her.
Does the woman mean to let the man have her when she meets him, or from the moment he touches her cunt, or when, or at all, or does she unconsciously acquiesce, and gradually yield, as sensations overcome all sense but that of carnal voluptuousness? — Do visions of his prick entering the hitherto sacred precincts of her cunt pass through her brain as he gently masturbates her? Few women can answer this them-selves, I find.]
Absorbed in feeling her cunt, and the delight of giving the sweet creature pleasure, wondering if I dare put my finger lower down and try the passage, I titillated her in silence. All was silent now, excepting the gentle smacking of my kisses on her upturned cheek and lips. — I frigged gently between tightly closed thighs, till in that charming way a woman has, when she feels the premonitory thrills of the coming spend, and doesn’t like to show her pleasure; she moved her face up from my shoulder with a start. — “Oho! aha! leave off now. — You shan’t;” and, with a jut back of her haunches, she removed my finger for a second. I instantly re- commenced, frigged quicker, still quicker, harder. Now I ceased kissing her. “Spend darling, spend, love,” I said, looking into her face, which was again on my shoulder. — Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, rapid breathing and quick sighs of pleasure came from her. — Ah, that quiver of the thighs and belly, that tremulous shiver in her bosom, I knew it well, and the squeeze of the thighs on my hand, — tight for a second — then the convulsive opening of them, again the tight closing, and then the languid opening of the fleshy columns. — I knew it well, for I have frigged scores of the angels, and knew that Madeline had spent.
Whilst her thighs in voluptuous langour lay loosely, I slipped my hand between them and grasped her whole cunt, and my fingers lay between the lips. She started up and pushed my hand away. On it as I withdrew it, were the copious evidences of her pleasure. — “You’ve spent, love. — I’ve frigged you. — Ah! if my prick had been in you, how much more pleasure you’d have had. Come to the other room, let us — come.” She sat looking at me full. What was she thinking of? Again I cuddled, kissed and fondled her, again my hand touched her clitoris. She was passive, my fingers moved over all the moistened surface, and then her thighs closed again. — “Come with me, come.” — Gently and uninterrupedly I frigged on, murmuring “Come, love,” till with a sudden rousing, she pushed away my hand, gasping out slowly and hesitatingly, “No — I can’t.”
“Feel my prick then,” and I put her hand round it. She was now sighing, her head again fell on my shoulder with eyes closed, my prick in her hand, when I re-commenced frigging. — “Oh leave off. I can’t.” — “Come to the bed, or my spunk will go all over you again. — Oh, how wet your cunt is. — My love, let’s go, or I shall spend.” — She was almost insensible to every thing but lust and didn’t reply. I rose, seized her hands, and gently pulled her up. — “Come.” “No.” — But gradually and easily I led her into the bed chamber — She wouldn’t get on the bed. — “I won’t let you now.” — “What nonsense, then I’ll leave you — get on love, and I’ll only frig you.” — On she got.
I got on the bed unbuttoning as I did so. There was no light excepting what came through the sitting room door. For a moment I frigged her, gradually pressing her on to her back, then slowly mounted her. — “I’ll do it so. — I’ll spend over your thigh so, and frig you after, be quiet dear.” — She knew what I was going to do, tho she feared it. — My legs pressed her thighs apart, I lodged my prick and gave a gentle push, to my astonishment, it did not enter. With a little wriggle she murmured “Oh, don’t!” — Then she is virgin! — Oh, the delight as I grasped her buttocks for a forcible thrust, had her firmly in hand, guided my prick low down (I know the point of entry well and lunged, — “Oho — oha” — lunge — “oho” — lunge. “Oh, don’t” — I felt that never-to-be-forgotten sensation which a hymen when splitting up gives a prick, the tightening round it, then the loosening, and the next instant the shaft was up to its roots in her cunt.
That was a short business, but not a quick fuck, for I had fucked the night before. — I enjoyed both the sensation and the idea of the virgin cunt which I had ruptured, but fucked slowly till nature urged me on faster, and spent as her cunt tightened and her murmurs of pleasure reached my ear, as I lay with my head over her shoulder. Coming to myself I felt the stem of my prick yet up her, and sanguinary proof I found. “You have never been fucked before,” said I. — “What?” — said she astonished.
(Some men, and some women say that females don’t spend at the fuck which destroys their virginity; generally they do not, but I have had several who did, and can swear to it.)
I locked the bedroom door, which I had not done before, lighted candles, wiped her cunt myself with a towel, and inspected her jagged slit. — She objected, and I almost used force. — “What nonsense, to the man who’s just fucked you.” — Then she seemed faint. — We came into the sitting room, I gave her wine, and she sat with my handkerchief against her quim, for she bled unusually. — In an hour we fucked again, and soon after she went away still bleeding. She wanted to get home early; I stopped all night at the hotel.
Next night she could not meet me, the next she did. I could not get to the same hotel again, but knew of three where they shut their eyes. — At one I hired a sitting and bedroom. The dinner was not so good, but was wholesome, the wine excellent. — A charming tête-à-tête meal we had, and a comfortable bed there was to go to afterwards. “We are going to get into bed presently Madeline.” — “Oh, no.” — “Oh, yes you are,” — and so it was. What a fuss she made, but at length, in chemise only and I in shirt, I forced her up on the bed, and, throwing up her chemise as fast as she pushed it down, and insisting on my right, I had her thighs wide apart, and gloated on her private charms, and kissed and smelt them (for I liked the smell of her cunt till my impatient prick would let me look no longer. Then into bed I got, and pushing up chemise and shirt to our necks, covered her sweet fair body with mine.
I recollect nothing in my life more exquisite, than the minute when my prick glided up Madeline’s cunt the second time that night, with a slow movement which it pleased me to make. Going up it inch by inch, resting between each stroke, watching her face, hearing the slight cry of pain which her lacerated and still sore cunt forced from her, whilst voluptuous sensations higher up in her cunt coming at the same time, issued in a lovely murmur. A murmur expressing mainly the pleasure that fucking was giving her. Her irritated, heated, spunk-filled vagina was longing to relieve itself by a discharge of its lubricating mucous to meet my spermatic injection, and thrilled her with burning lust. I lay a minute, letting her enjoy the complete distention of her cunt, that pretty little cunt, tight, stretched and gorged with my prick, which never was larger or stiffer. Then I thrust hard, banging its red tip against the portals of her womb, which made her jerk her bum back but stimulated her to a crisis of pleasure. — All this time I was wondering at my luck at having her a virgin, and my stupidity at having thought she was not. Thus I lay in her arms, clasping and kissing, and thinking with that rapid evolution of lascivious thoughts which go through my brain as my prick is in a cunt.
After our second fuck, as recovering from our elysium of lasciviousness I lay tranquilly between her smooth legs, and restlessly began feeling her satiny flesh from hips to thighs, and lower, I became conscious of much hardness of the lower part of haunch and backside; and still later on when we had exhausted our-selves in each other’s arms, and she had washed and was preparing to put on her clothes, I felt her all about those fleshy parts, and looked at and kissed the fair globes, and found that her bum had an unusual hardness, a hardness far beyond what would be called solid, but was even marbly in its solidity; such as I have felt perhaps in half a dozen women, but not more.
She was conscious of it. It was solid when a girl, and in rising womanhood, sleeping with other young women, her hard bum had been noticed. — I suppose they felt each other, and why not? — I have always hither-to found that substantial flesh, in the arses of stronger, coarser- built women. In this slighter and more delicate town-built woman it was an agreeable novelty. She had told that in a moment of jocosity, her mother had once told her that she also had one of the hardest bums, and that if she put a walnut on a wooden chair and sat with a naked bum upon it, she could crack it. — This I suppose was figurative, but possibly may be true. So Madeline inherited her mother’s solid buttocks. I am not sure that such hard flesh there is beautiful. A slighter solidity, and more elasticity, is prefer-able to the feel, I think. It is pleasanter to clutch an elastic rather than an inelastic arse, when fucking.
She was a beautifully made creature; slim, with fine bones delicately covered, and had a most exquisite foot in size and shape. Her cunt was small both in look and feel and had but little hair on it. — In her armpits there was scarcely a hair visible. I don’t recollect before seeing a woman of her age without hair there, tho I have seen some with very little. I never saw a more ragged jagged edged split than my prick had made in her hymen. She told me that, before fucking, she couldn’t quite insert the tip of her little finger, in the orifice through which her courses drained off. She had a fair sized clitoris and trifling inner lips, and that is all about her cunt.
She could not get out next night, but on that following she met me again. — We dined as before and took our pleasures directly afterwards. — What a difference in her manner! In the cab I felt her cunt and did what I liked, there was no fuss about the groping, and by the time I reached the hotel, we had felt each other till I was stiff, and she was moist and lewed. — How charming at dinner to set opposite to the pretty creature, knowing what was to follow, that there was no part of her body which I had not seen, that she knew the size of my prick, from its normal state of quiescence to its utmost and active rigidity. Such thoughts passed through my mind, and similar ones no doubt passed through hers, tho, with the hypocrisy so common among women, she denied it when I asked her.
She could not stop out till eleven o’clock anymore, for her parents became inquisitive. But a woman who wants fucking will risk anything to get it. So she after-wards left her business early on some excuse, and we went to a brothel, and I had her almost nightly for week or two. Often it was only one fuck she could wait for. I waited impatiently for her every night, so fresh and nice was she, so intensely did she enjoy me, and I her, in teaching her postures and the art of love in all its ways and shapes. Then I again got her to dinner at a hotel, and in bed began talking about her future, and Richard’s name came up.
Said she: “It’s of no use now if Richard came after me again, for he’d find out that I’ve done it, and I couldn’t marry him.” I told her that half the men had never had a virgin, or had had only one in a state of tremendous excitement, and with a little skill that she could deceive him. — He’d gone off and had left his place, and she had quarrelled with her milliner friend, Mrs. B**t*n whom she heard had told Richard that she (Madeline) had gone to dine with a regular swell (my-self) who had met her by appointment at the Palace. Richard had written her that. — Mrs. B**t*n was jealous of her, for Richard was a fine man. Then Madeline got spoony on me and hinted at my keeping her. I was going over to Paris (which I did, to see for the last time the French lady whose ravishment I have told of. She burst into tears and hoped she wasn’t in the family way. — I told her that in such an event, and she couldn’t get her courses on, that I would provide for her (and would have done). But she now had taken to fucking, so that I feared in my heart that, when away, she would get another prick in lieu of mine. Cautioning her against that, I went to Paris.
I was gone nearly three weeks, on my return wrote her to meet me, and she did. — At first she would not go to a house with me. — When in one, I sat down on a chair, and, clasping her naked backside with both hands, pulling her towards me, and asking her if she wasn’t longing for a fuck, and how many times she’d frigged herself in my absence, she, standing up, still with bonnet on, said she couldn’t let me do it any more. — No, it was not her poorliness and she was not, thank God! in the family way, and didn’t want to be, for Richard had come back to her, and would marry her in a year.
I was pleased, but it made me want to fuck her more than ever. — “Well, take your bonnet off.” — “For a little time, but I won’t let you.” — A kiss and cuddle on the ample sofa, followed. — “Let’s feel each other a bit, and stop, I will look at it first. — Oh! what a lovely little cunt!” — and I kissed it again and again. — Then I felt her, and she felt me, our tongues met, distilling their liquids, and we were both sighing with the languid pleasure our hands gave us. “I shall spend in your hand.” —”No, don’t.” — “In your cunt then.” — “Oh, no. — I’m coming Walter,” — for she knew my name — I left off, not meaning her to come. The gentle wriggling of her backside and belly ceased, her thighs were quiet, we relinquished each other’s genitals and looked lewedly at each other, she with petticoats half up her thighs, I with prick vertical. — “Let’s do it, and I’ll pull it out when my spunk’s coming.” — “Be sure you do, if I get in the family way you know I’m done for.” — She got on the bed as nimbly as she could, for her cunt was craving for a stretch, was hot and moist with desire for the male.
The pause let our juices subside, but soon the pleasurable friction of prick and cunt roused them again. — “I’m coming love, are you?” “Aha — yes — aha — don’t do it in me. — Aha.” — “No — aha.” — “I’m spend — ing!” — At the crisis we both forgot. She clasped me to her, her cunt constricted and held my prick with that peculiar, grinding grip which a cunt gives when spending, whilst my prick, with short wriggling thrusts, shot out my spunk into its proper place.
“Get out and wash quickly,” said I, ere pleasure was well over or my prick done spending. Getting off her, I put down the basin, poured out the water, and soon saw the pearly lumpy, stringy sperm, which ought to have been still comforting her cunt, at the bottom of the basin. She looking as I did, rubbing her cunt with a towel, and hoping it was all out. — “That’s the stuff which comes out of a man’s thing?” — “You’ve seen it before?” — “Never.” — “More was on your thigh five weeks ago.” — “But it was all on my chemise when I looked.” She took up the basin, and looked curiously at my semen. — “I hope it’s all out, you didn’t keep your promise.” — “I couldn’t, your cunt gripped my prick into you so. — You should have jerked my prick out when you found I was spending.” — Madeline had certainly not had then enough experience to know to a second when a man is going to spend; I dare say she does by this time.
We talked, with passions appeased. “No, not again” — but frigging recommenced and altered her mind. — I called out for the servant and told her to bring a French letter, a bit of sponge, and a piece of thread. — All were brought, and the maid laughed. I gave Made-line the experience of a prick covered with sheep’s gut, but neither of us liked it. So I pulled it off, and we fucked till consummation approached, and then put it on. We did the same with the sponge. I tied it by the thread, and pushed it up her cunt a little way, she further, and my prick pushed it right up — and so we fucked on to the pleasurable discharge. When I drew out the sponge holding my sperm, and she had washed her cunt out again, we agreed that our pleasure was much destroyed, both by the gut and the absorbent zoophyte — Madeline learnt something that night. I wonder if she has applied that knowledge since.
Fucking creates such a tie between man and woman, that, altho she said she wouldn’t ever meet me again, added, “I’d better not, had I?” and altho I agreed not to ask her, yet I did a few days after by letter. — She came and was on heat — I knew it by her looks and manner, and told her she was lewed. She laughed and, colouring up, said she did not feel as if she’d like me. — This time, not wishing to injure her, I took a nice little round sponge, and my sperm spat into that absorbent, but we half fucked before I put it up. I got her to dine that night, and we were both in fine condition. Her parents were told there was late work (the usual mil- liner’s excuse) and I gave her a sound ballocking. Her poorliness she expected on every hour, and such was the state of lewedness which our heated genitals got in-to that, at the last fuck, we did without sponge, for I couldn’t that time spend with the sponge in her. — When my pleasure was coming on, and my glans touched the sponge, so intensely sensitive was I that it stopped me spending. — When I did, I pulled my prick out nearly to the tip and spent thus, she washed directly and took no harm.
That night we parted for good, and I made her take ten pounds — I was to see her again some time after-wards as it happened.
I incline to think, now that a few years have passed since this intrigue, that Madeline came to the second dinner with me, intending to let me have her. — Her little struggles and resistance may either have been shams or timidity at the last moment, when I was getting to victory. Was it annoyance at the loss of her lover, a desire for a change of life, a speculation of becoming my mistress, or even my wife — or lust? — Lust does not influence women usually so much before they lose their virginity as it does men (unless so hot cunted as but few are). It influences women more afterwards, when they know the delights of a cunt plugged by a prick. Curiosity is powerful with them, and numbers fall under a mistaken notion of their own powers of resistance. “I did not mean to let him do it, tho I didn’t mind his larking or feeling me,” said Maria ***** once to me. Many have said the same when I have closely questioned them. — That’s it. — The idea of feeling and being felt by the man, the sensuous de-light increased because forbidden, — of having a little baudy chat about sleeping together, and so on, is permissible. — Even the hurried feel, the glance askant at the stiff prick, is charming, and all very well. But they don’t reckon the consequence of the chance of his getting his fingers on to their clitorises and their not being able to get them away. — A five minutes’ good frig, whilst a woman is kissed, and lewed suggestions whispered by the man, settle most women. That is my experience. Half ready to spend, lewed images in their mind, curiosity at work, they almost helplessly let the man do his will. — “Open thighs — enter prick — exit hymen. — All is over, my love. Swab up the blood stained sperm from your cunt, and prepare for the next ramming. You are a woman now, in for a penny in for a pound. The gates of pleasure are opened, let the promenaders walk in.”
Indeed that was the sum of Madeline’s confession to me when we talked about the affair. She didn’t think I’d dare to try to do what I did. “Why did you come again?” — “I don’t know really, I wanted to come and didn’t want, I like dining with you. I wondered what you’d do.” — “You didn’t think I’d be quiet and respectful.” — “No — I don’t know really, but thought you might put your hands up my clothes, that I really did.” — “And show you my prick?” “Well, I did.” — “Now you were lewed and came to be fucked.” “That I declare before Heaven I didn’t, for I’d made up my mind if you did what you did before that I’d run out of the house.” She didn’t know her own strength of resistance, and they are nearly all alike. Nature has made them so. — Prick is potential. — Altho a woman cares less about seeing or feeling a prick than a man does a cunt, (for females have seen pricks all their lives, it’s incidental to their sex as nurse, and they see them from their infancy), yet a stiff stander shown at the moment when the fingers have raised lust through the clitoris, is an invincible persuader. “Open sesame,” and the female opens. — It is her destiny.