Volume 7 Chapter 5
A hairless cunted Moslem. • A shaven cunted Greek. • Three apprentice girls in a cab. • Alone with Winifred. • A sovereign bribe. • Cab riding. • The stationer’s shop. • Sister Lydia. • The Gentleman lodger. • Piety against a wall. • Winifred on the watch. • The couple detected. • Sisterly arrangements. • The help of a book. • Winifred at a baudy house. • Verification of her sex. • Hands crossing, fingers active. • Lydia’s advice. • Winifred consents. • A commonplace termination. • Utility of a medical title.
I was again in the East of Europe, and, going down the Danube, reached Constantinople. — Outside my hotel there were two or three hangers-on loafers, in semi-oriental dress, who, when I and other visitors appeared, accosted us, offering their services to find men or women for us, or to show us about the city. The city was in fact their first offer. It was only when a little away from the hotel and from other travellers that the suggestions about copulation came out. I had been talking with a gentleman at my hotel, who had been staying in the city for many months and had heard from him that all Turkish women re-moved the hair from their cunts, so when one of these soi-disant guides asked me if I would like “a lady with-out hair on it” — for the fellow spoke not bad English, — I consented to go with him. He led me down hill into a torturous narrow lane, about going into which, had it been in a Western city of Europe, I should have hesitated to accompany a stranger. — But here all the ways were crooked, and it was broad daylight. Knocking with a stick at a door in a wall of a house without a window in it, and giving a slight but peculiar howl, the door opened, a female appeared, and, accosting him whilst looking at me, closed the door which she had opened and beckoned me to follow her. My guide squatted on a mat, and without a word or taking any further notice of me, began to smoke a cigar which looked as if he had manufactured it himself. Useful as I have found pimps, often as I have used them, I never could bear the animals to await me at a female’s house, but dismissed them, either paying them then or letting them know (and they knew well enough) where they could find me for their pay. But in this strange city of a Moslem race where I did not understand a word of the language and where people disappear mysteriously, I felt rather glad than otherwise that he was waiting for me. — What does a man of that class think about when he knows he has led a man to a house where he may get a woman, I wonder?
The woman led me across a small dusty yard, in which stood one tree growing seemingly out of sand, up a flight of stairs to a room with two doors in it, one at which we entered, the other opposite to it. There she stopped, smiled, nodded, and held out her hand. — I understood Backsheesh and dropped a small coin into it. She looked discontented and I added another. Then, smilingly, she opened the opposite door, looked in, went in, and, turning round, beckoned to me. I went in, the door closed behind me, and I found myself in the presence of a dark eyed lady smoking a chibouque, with something like lemonade in a glass beside her on a small stool, whilst she lay on a long sort of divan about a foot above the floor.
Then began dumb play. Knowing she was a courtesan (though the guide had most volubly whilst going along with him said she was nothing of the kind), I didn’t shilly-shally long. Thrusting my hands up between baggy trousers as I sat down by her feet, I tried to feel her cunt, but felt nothing but linen. She laughed and held out her hand. I pointed to the door at which I had entered. She clapped her hands and in came the female who had of course been expecting it. They talked, I didn’t understand a word of it, but saw it was about money, and it ended, after much gesticulation on all sides, in my paying about four times as much as I was told by my guide was the gay-woman’s fee, and which I had already paid to the door woman. I knew I was being done, but had expected that, and it didn’t even annoy me.
Then the lady, the financial part of the business being arranged, gradually divested herself of all but her chemise, and I saw a plump, indeed a fattish female, whom I should have guessed thirty in London or Paris, with a face painted in all ways, but who really was handsome, and who, without more ado, opened a pair of fat white thighs, and disclosed her split or slit.
Cunt it was, but a slit in white flesh it really looked, for not a vestige of hair was visible. She had but a small clitoris (perhaps she’d had it cut off, I have since heard that such things are done in the East) and very small nymphae. — The cunt lips puffed out and I thought, on carefully looking, that I saw signs of stubbly hair, but could feel none. The cunt looked in fact like a long cut in a lump of dough, with a little red line indicating the parting. Pulling the lips wide apart, the red lining showed handsomely, and for a minute or two I amused myself with looking at it and feeling it. She was complaisant.
Then she investigated me, and said “Take off” — she evidently had had Englishmen, and suggested my taking off my trousers, which I readily did. She felt and squeezed my prick, in the knowing manner of a harlot who looks out for ailments there. I knelt between her legs and shook my stiff stander in her face, and the next moment it was up her. There was something stimulating in the idea of having that hairless cunt. I put my fingers down and felt the smooth puffy lips which enclosed my prick, and soon left my mucilage in her vagina, to delight and soothe it.
She retired, and returned with a fresh washed cunt, pointed to an iron basin on a stool for my purification, and there I washed before her. Then in dumb play, and by a few words of English and much gesticulation, and the greater part of the time looking at and feeling her cunt, I passed away sufficient time to get another rise in my prick. The hairless slit received it, emptied it, rejected it in a slobbered state of exhaustion and unfitness for further sexual work, and after washing I left, escorted by my pimp — who wanted to know how I liked the lady.
I told my hotel acquaintance frankly all about it. — I’ve an impression he had had the woman himself, tho he didn’t say so. She was an Armenian, he had heard, and not a Moslem woman, that Moslem women were not to be had. — That didn’t matter to me, it was a hairless cunt, and I expect a Moslem woman, if this were not one, would have looked and fucked the same.
Afterwards, one night near the Bosphorus, I had an Italian woman, and a Greek also in the same room, both with cunts nearly as black as coal. Talking with the Italian and telling her what I had done with the hairless cunted woman, she said she would fetch one also. I fucked both her and the Greek, and a day or two after went to the same house in the day time, and in about an hour the Italian brought me quite a young woman without any hair on her cunt. I looked her carefully over from arsehole to navel, but not a hair could I see on her privates, tho I could feel a roughness.
I fucked her whilst the Italian, laying on the bed, showed me baudily her horse-haired sperm sucker, and I came to the conclusion that a hairy cunt in woman is much handsomer and more voluptuously enticing than a hairless one. It is different in a young girl, tho even in a tender lass I think I like to see a slight hair on her motte. — But the tender pink of the split-lining, be-comes the hairless pad in which it lies, in the youngsters up to fourteen years of age.
[This adventure with the smooth hairless cunted ones, preceded my liaison with Madeline and Bertha. The narrative, by error in arranging the papers, has been placed after them.]
[Then chance threw in my way a young lass, it was my last piece of such luck before a great change took place in my social life.]
About five o’clock one evening in September I was walking along one of the main roads of the suburbs when heavy rain suddenly set in. Tho I had an umbrella, I turned under an archway at the entrance to a builder’s yard. Standing there were three girls neither apparently older than sixteen, they were all neatly tho poorly dressed and looked like the daughters of small tradesmen. They all turned out to be apprentices to a dressmaker (not work women yet) and received a mere trifle (nine pence a day) as an encouragement, which was to be gradually increased as they grew older and could be more useful. This was told me by one of them later on.
They had no umbrellas. Standing there, I talked with them and asked how they expected to get home. — They seemed pleased with the notice of a gentleman, and answered cheerfully. The rain continued, and as I talked I began to think of the lasses’ cunts, especially of one of them who was very pretty. They told me the way they were going home, and just then an empty four wheeled cab passed. Luckily I hailed it in time, and offered the girls if they liked to get in to drive them part of their way, as I happened to be going in their direction. Seemingly with much pleasure they accepted, and we all four get into the cab together.
Directly the cab moved off I began joking. Had they sweethearts? I was sure they had. — Impossible for such nice girls not to have them; they got kissed of a night in the dark, I was sure, didn’t their sweethearts tickle them and try to feel their garters, and so on? The girls were delighted with the chaff and talked at once. — “No — no — Bessie has” — “And so has she.” — “He’s felt your garters, you told me so.” — “No — no” — “Mother won’t let me out of a night.” “Mine does sometimes, to go to aunt.” — “I get out if father’s out,” — So their tongues gabbed on. — “Now you’ve all been kissed haven’t you? — tell the truth and I’ll give you each six pence.” — With shuffling and hesitation they did. — “Winifred has” — “So have you.” — “Oh, you story.” — “I saw Bob do it.” — Each got six pence, (tho I hadn’t enough of that small coin). “Now, give me a kiss for the ride, and I’ll give each a shilling.” They demurred till the prettiest, who looked the boldest, let me take one, gave me a return, and then the rest did. I made each stand up before me to give the kiss, and pulled her to me between my legs, my hand round her bum which I pressed hard whilst I held her, tho not so as to scare her; longing when I did it to have my hands on the naked flesh.
I went on joking, approaching smuttiness, and had just offered them a shilling each to feel their garters, when one cried out. — “Oh, it’s past our street, stop the cab please, sir.” — I offered to drive down the street. “Oh, no, father might see us” — the little sluts were cunning already. The rain had come to a drizzle, and there was no help for it but to let them out. The two stood up together facing the cab door as the cab-man opened it, and as they prepared to step out I put my hand in front and gave a gentle push up against one of their notches, and pinched the other’s bum. — One looked up silly at me but without a word.
Winifred, who looked the oldest, was also about to alight, but she had said she lived further off to the right, so I stopped her. — “No, you can get out further on.” — “I’d rather get out with them, it doesn’t rain much.” — I closed the door, the two girls walked away, the cabman drove off. — “I much want to go to ****,” said I, “and then I’m coming back, drive with me there, and I’ll set you down on my return.” She refused, but the cab went on, the rain recommenced, she acquiesced, and sat quietly by my side, a little anxious seemingly. — For a moment I reflected, but my cock, erecting itself unasked, urged me on. I let the cabman drive on much further than I wanted to go, then, coming back, called where I had intended, Winifred sitting in the cab all the time. I did not stop at the house five minutes and then told the cabman to drive a long way round.
I kissed her, praised her beauty (she was the prettiest of the lot), and as she liked the praise and the kisses, offered a shilling to see her garters. That alarmed her and she wanted to get out. — “Oh, what a long way you’re taking me.” — I pacified her; on went the cab, I asked her to meet me another day, and at last. — “Now don’t be alarmed, you have only to say no and you shan’t. I’ll give you a sovereign to let me feel your thighs.” — I’d expected her to be scared, and even to desire to get out of the cab. To my delight all she said was, “You dirty man, I shan’t.” — I pitched the sovereign down on the seat in front of us, and begged and coaxed her. “Just to feel your thighs.” A little time after, “Just to feel if there’s any hair there, and you shall feel me, don’t be alarmed, I won’t do it if you so dislike it, but feel me.” She began really to cry, it was no sham, but it soon ceased. “There, take up the sovereign, whether you let me or not it’s yours.” This was interlarded with her refusals, angry at first, but getting less and less vehement. At length, when it was getting dusk, she felt my prick, and soon after my fingers just felt her little notch. Soon it was quite dark. What would her mother think of her being so late. “Oh, where are you taking me?” — Soon I set her down near her house, with a promise from her to meet me next day if she could.
“You won’t tell those two will you?” — were the last words Winifred said. “Is it likely I should be so foolish? be sure you don’t tell the girls or any one else, what we’ve done, and be sure you never tell any one.” I gave her the sovereign, and she gave me her home address and that of her place of work. I wrote them down somehow in the cab, which I made move on to a gas lamp. Her mother kept a stationer’s shop she said, and she had a sister named Lydia. — “What shall I tell mother about being so late?” she kept asking. — “Say the rain, my dear.” I never knew what she did say, but girl, or woman, or crone, they always have an excuse ready, especially if it be to hide or help fucking. That, it seems to me stimulates the female brain to craftiness in lying, in a marvellous degree.
Five minutes after she left me, I drove to her house. It was easily found, and was in a poorish street, but seemed quite respectable. Stationery and many trumpery things were sold there. — The mother was in the shop, and also her sister whom she told me of the following day, and I came away, wondering if the girl would keep her word and meet me for another drive, at what she thought of my stiff prick, whether she’d ever seen a prick in that state before, and what the other two girls thought of my talk about their garters. I wondered more than anything at my success in getting a young girl, after an hour and a half’s acquaintance, to feel me and let her belly be felt. — In truth my fingers barely touched the top of the notch where it splits up from the belly. She didn’t seem of the same class as the little box makers whom I had a few years ago.
Next day, and half an hour earlier than the day before, as arranged, I waited near to the workshop of Miss Winifred (her companions called her “Winny”). She is the only female with that Christian cognomen I ever yet have known in amatory affairs. — I had doubts whether she would show up, for it was only a minute or two before she left the cab that I felt her belly and forced her hand on to my prick. She was scared, and there was so much hesitation and anxiety in her manner, when she promised to meet me again. — I had suggested her leaving earlier, so as to get away from her fellow apprentices, who usually walked part of the way homewards with her. She was a little late, but appeared just as I had given her up and got into the cab as quickly as she could, evidently to avoid being seen. She was cunning enough for that. — What was really Winifred’s object in thus meeting me a stranger? It must have been the desire again to finger, and be fingered on the organs of concupiscence, again to feel my fingers on her motte, again to feel, and perhaps now to see, that rigid male engine, about which no doubt she had heard and talked with her young friends, but may have never seen a full sized one. — It was dark when I had my persuader out in the cab, and if she saw it, it was only when a street lamp flashed on it. “I must really get home by seven,” said she, and telling me why. — “Oh, I don’t want to go towards the bridge, I shan’t get home in time, I won’t go that way.” — I was driving in the direction of a convenient house, but fearful of spoiling my chance, stopped the cab, and on her naming a road, told the cabman to drive that way. I was longing for it to get dark, but unfortunately it was a bright evening. On we went, till, passing a pastry cook’s, I asked her if she’d have something. — Yes, she’d like a jelly so, she’d only once or twice tasted it in her life.
I made her sit in the cab, thinking her youth and dress, contrasted with mine, might cause remark, and crammed her with jelly, then took her cherry brandy, thinking that might warm her up. Then on we drove, I talking amorously and kissing her every minute. The cherry brandy opened her mouth, and she volunteered much about herself, I had only to ask a question and she spoke for five minutes, not that she was in the least degree tight. — I encouraged the loquacity, feeling sure I should get no liberties till dusk, I never had such a garrulous lass, and all about herself and family. — This is some of what she told me.
Her father had been a clerk, her mother kept the stationer’s shop since his death, which took place about four years previously. Since then they had mainly depended upon the shop for their living. — They let the two rooms above to a single gentleman, who had lodged there for two years. Her sister Lydia had been to service, but now minded the shop with her mother. They two kept the house, and did most of the work themselves, but a strong char-woman came daily to do rough jobs. — Lydia waited on the gentleman, who was not much at home in the day. He was middle- aged, very religious, and anxious for Lydia to go to prayer meetings with him, but the mother objected. She however went with him sometimes on the sly. Lydia and her mother had had words about that. Mother says Lydia’s had trouble enough, and doesn’t want her to get into any more. — She (Winifred) used to take him his breakfast things sometimes before she was apprenticed, now she went away to work too early.
She was allowed now nine pence a day, soon they would give her a shilling because she was getting useful. — “But it’s hard work, and I can’t bear sitting all day long. — I’d like something else but don’t know what.” — She had a bag with her in which I found she took her dinner, and the dressmaker gave her her tea, and she had her supper when she got home. Hungry and tired she was when she did get home. She hated sitting in the shop parlour or the kitchen, she liked serving in the shop, but was glad when her mother let her go to her aunt’s, or to chapel. — They were very pious chapel people, seemingly.
With that fine perception in all sexual matters which I know I have, I caught at her remarks about her sister having got into trouble, — Something whispered to me — “Cunt” — Trouble to her mother? — “Cunt.” — “What was your sister’s trouble?” I asked.
Winifred saw with the cunning of a female that she had said too much, her loquacity ceased, and she began to evade and equivocate. She didn’t know what, but had heard her mother say so — but it was all right now — and so on. —”You’re fibbing, my little darling, you do know. — Perhaps she’s had a foolish lover, who foolishly got her a baby, when he needn’t, they might have had all their pleasure without that.” — “Oh — oh — what a thing to say. — I don’t know what you mean.”
It was just the time for telling her what I meant, for it was getting dark, the lamps were lighted, and I could clearly see her pretty face for the moment as we passed them. — So I told her what I thought of Lydia, and in voluptuous words, and for the first time said “cunt, prick, fuck,” that trinity of words which conveys all, expresses all — I had never said them on the night before, but had used suggestive words, as my thing — your belly, and so on — simple words which nevertheless set the brain thinking, and the body lusting, yet do not scare. — At every baudy sentence, at every suggestion, she now only said. “Ho — ho,” and at last burst into screaming laughter. It was a peal of laughter, amused, timid, almost hysterical, and then suddenly ceasing. — “I don’t know what you mean, or any-thing about it, only what mother says — let me get home.”
“I’ll ask Lydia and tell you what she says,” said I with coolness. At that she laughed again, but as I saw she was determined to know nothing, I changed my tone. — “Let’s look at your boots, you want another pair, put your foot on the seat.” — “Oh, they’re shabby, I’ve got a better pair for Sundays” — and apparently diverted from what we had been talking about, she began to talk again and put one foot upon the seat, looking at it tho she couldn’t see it plainly. At once I rapidly ran my hand up her clothes and got it between her thighs, just as she closed them tightly on it.
But it was too late, my forefinger was a little in the notch, I could feel the soft pad, the division, and a nubbly little clitoris. — She moved, wriggled, jumped up, sat down again, but somehow I managed to keep my finger there and move it slightly, pulling her to me with the other hand, kissing her and talking baudy. Spite of her. — “No — I won’t.” — I still felt the cunt. How delicious to feel that young virgin cunt, that soft pad above that little button of gristle — made for man’s fingers to rub, to irritate. How voluptuous to her to have my fingers on it, and to know and think of what I wanted. Yet with a bounce she got away and sat opposite to me. “I’ll never ride with you again,” she said.
“Yes, my darling you will, and I shall give you pleasure, and you me, now come this side, I’ve done, and you shall feel me.” — “Shan’t — I won’t.” — But persuaded she did, for my erotic philosophy told. — “Why shouldn’t we — who will know but we? every girl does it but doesn’t tell.” — Sexual want, and voluptuous feelings pervading, settled it; and in five minutes in absolute silence, she was sitting with her little hand round my standing prober, and I was feeling the full little pad at the bottom of her belly, on which I could just feel the slight hair of puberty. She was just over sixteen years of age.
As we approached her street — “I wonder if mother’s out, she sometimes takes a walk about this time on Wednesdays,” said Winifred, anxiously relinquishing my prick and looking out of the cab. She got out at the end of her street, I dismissed the cab, and at a distance following her, saw her enter the shop and, going up to it, saw through the window Lydia as I supposed (it was). Staring at the good looking young woman, I wondered again what her trouble had been; and again said to myself, “Cunt’s had some thing to do with it.” — Winifred’s street led out of a broad highway with but little traffic, it was the least frequented large high-way so near the bridges in London (it is nearly the same now spite of buildings and population). The foot-paths were very wide with a strip of paving along them. — Some big gardens enclosed by high walls were there at places, and the rest of the houses fronting the road were oldish middle class and with very long gar-dens in front. A dull quiet road it was. I sauntered along it, in a madly lewed state through feeling her little motte and having my tool handled by her, and wishing for relief, looked out for a whore. — But it was just the hour when few of the professional fuckstresses were about, or indeed any one else. — At length a tallish girl but who didn’t look more than sixteen came sauntering along. “Come and give me a kiss, Mary,” said I, — changing my reception.
She stopped and talked, and I found she was either gay or half gay, and after satisfying myself about her face under a gas lamp, we went down a darkish lane or passage and against a high wall with trees overhanging it, felt her gap, and she my poker. Said she. — “I work at bonnets. — No I don’t know a house near here, I live close by, but there’s a nice house at about ten minutes walk.” — Mutual handling of our privates went on during our talk, till I could wait no longer, and fucked the damsel as she stood against the wall, gave her half a crown, and departed, leaving her trying to piss. I like to see a woman squatting for that. — “You can’t piddle, my dear,” she laughed. — “I just did it before I left home, but I shall in a minute.” I could not go to meet Winifred for one or two days, and when I was at the appointed place she did not appear, nor for two days after. Thinking my chance lost, and not wishing to compromise the girl, I ceased going there, but the saucy chattering blue eyed lass, dwelt in my mind, my prick stiffened when I thought of her little hand having been round it, and of the little clitoris I had barely felt and not seen. So again I went near the workshop a little earlier, and waited inside a cab on the opposite side of the road. — At the usual hour out she came with the other two lasses.
I drove well ahead, alighted, told the cabman to follow me at a distance, and then walking straight back, met the three girls point blank. All looked confused tho they smiled, and they edged away from me. I nodded familiarly and passed on, as if I never meant again to speak to them, but noticed Winifred’s face colour up, and that her eyes looked saucily at me. — Then I felt dreadfully in love with her and lusted furiously. When nearly out of sight, I got into the cab, and, telling the cabman what to do, followed at foot pace.
Just where the two girls had got out of the cab before, they turned off. Winifred crossed the road, and stood for a minute looking back. The fast little wench, I guessed, was wondering if I was about. I had reached her by then, stepped out of the cab, asked her to have a ride, was at first refused, and then she got in, saying she could only ride for half an hour. Was it in anticipation of a present?
The girl was anxious. I told her how I had seen her sister, and how a girl not older than she had let me feel her quim in * * * * Lane, but didn’t tell I’d fucked her. — “They call it the dark walk,” said Winifred, much interested. I began to think she knew a lot, but so do all girls sixteen years old in her class of life — It ended in her saying she’d meet me in an hour if she could get out. — If her mother was out she was sure she could, if at home she might refuse. “But your sister?” She didn’t care about her, if she told of her, she’d tell of her sister. If she did not meet me, she’d leave earlier next day and have a ride with me. I dined on a chop at a poor dining place and at the hour named was at the spot, but Winifred never appeared.
Next day she got into the cab with me, near to work place, and again we had a long ride, jelly, cakes, and cherry brandy. — Again she felt my prick, and I a little bit more of her cunt, but she resisted furiously my fingers getting proper feel of it. In the day light now, I asked if she’d like to see my cock. No she didn’t want
— but, when stiff, I put my hat over it, lifted up the hat when no vehicles were passing, and the lass looked at it and laughed. — “You’ve seen one before, Winny.”
— “That I haven’t,” said she energetically. — We drove up and down the same road (I wonder what cabby thought) and talked. I felt her all about, but she resisted more than she had done before, and said she wouldn’t ride with me again if I went on “at such games.”
The jelly and cherries set her chattering. She hadn’t spent any of the sovereign, and she was sick of work, she’d go to service or something else, she did not care what, her mother kept her so strict. She’d like to mind the shop with her mother, Lydia wanted to leave, but her mother wouldn’t let her. — At last I heard that Lydia had stopped out all night when in service, and been dismissed. — Winifred didn’t know where she’d been. “Yes you do.” Well, she wasn’t going to say if she did. — I concluded that Lydia had been fucked, and that Winifred knew it.
Then I resolved to try harder to get the girl, thinking from what had already taken place between us, from her voluptuous glances, from a wriggling, half lewed manner of moving and giggling, that she was of ardent temperament, and that her lower maw had craving for distension, and to have its hunger assuaged by the emollient liquid which a prick alone can give. “Pshaw, some man will get her soon, she is sure to get fucked — I may as well have her as another” — said I to my-self, and tried to induce her to go to a house with me, but was unsuccessful. — I knew none in her neighbour-hood for it was strange to me, and my brothels were two miles off. When we parted, she’d promised to meet me again.
Winifred’s place of work was close to a road with good traffic, and that night I walked about it till I saw a well dressed doxy, and with her went to a nice quiet baudy house, which I never should have found out by myself, and as before on similar occasions, I emptied my testicles into her. I had intended doing nothing of the sort, but couldn’t resist just looking at her calves, then feeling her thighs, then having a look at the red center cleft, and then I wanted to see her posteriors, and after feeling her about and saying that that was all. — “What a funny man you are, ain’t you going to do anything, haven’t you got a prick?” “Shall I frig you?” said the lady — A few minutes after, my poker was poking in her glowing sheath, and my semen shooting out from my balls into it. — I may add here that, many times in my life, I have found out the nearest accommodation houses by asking gay women to take me to them.
When I next met Winifred she was in a hurry to get home, but promised to meet me the next night at eight o’clock. She was to go to an aunt’s, would stop there a short time only, meet me afterwards, and then we could walk. Winifred was tall and looked much older than “sixteen and a quarter,” which she said she was, so walking arm in arm with me would not be noticeable—I think she was proud of walking with me. — We met, I told her I loved her, and in the dark talked unadulterated baudiness. — Said she, — “Not that way, Lydia’s gone to meeting with our lodger, and may come that way home; Mother thinks he’ll marry her and lets her go with him to prayer meetings now. Mother’s alone in the house.” Such was nearly the conclusion of our conversation in our walk, during which, I had kissed her in the street every five minutes at favourable opportunities, and tried to feel her but unsuccessfully. The little jade was either cunning or frightened.
We walked in another direction and came to a part where the high road was very wide, and where I had met the young fuckstress a week before. I wanted Winifred to go up the lane, and let me there feel her little cleft, but she resolutely refused. We stood for a minute or two talking, and I persuading, on the opposite side of the road to the lane, the mouth of which in the darkness we could scarcely see, for there was, I think, no lamp in it. As we stood, Winifred said with a start and almost in a whisper. “Oh! — there’s Lydia — let’s get away. — Oh! if she sees me.” — “Are you sure?” — “Yes, and it’s our lodger too.” Then in the darkness I just discerned a couple on the opposite side, who turned up the lane and were lost to view.
“Oh, let’s go.” —”No wait and see them come out to make sure you’re right.” — “What shall I say if Lydia sees me with you?” — “She won’t say anything if she knows you’ve seen her go up there with the lodger.” Winifred giggled.
I knew full well they’d be quick about their business, and get home as fast as they could, he with empty balls, and she with overflowing cunt. — So I led Winifred in the opposite direction and stopped just in view of the mouth of the lane. Soon the couple appeared, walking quickly. “Yes, it’s our lodger, I know his walk.” —”He’s fucked your sister.” — The girl made no reply. — We followed, keeping the couple barely in sight till we saw them enter the house, and then we parted with a kiss. “He’s fucked Lydia,” were my last words. The girl was silent. What was the riggish little wench thinking of?
At this time I was chasing Bertha, and had just lost Madeline. Sponge and sheep gut had been given up, for I could not bear them, and Madeline, frightened to do without them, being so anxious about getting in the family way and losing her Richard. — So the liaison languished and then ceased as told, but just then it pre-vented my hunting Winifred daily. Moreover, the cunning little slut was capricious, and at times even would now not cab with me, but some days after the spy on the pious couple, she met me.
She was bursting to tell me and began as soon as seated in the cab. She hadn’t told her sister, but had watched her. That morning her sister had gone out for something. — Winifred hadn’t been to her dress making. The lodger rang, and her mother sent her to answer “and what do you think?” “What,” “Oh, I shan’t tell you” and she burst out laughing. With a little pressing she did. “I opened the parlour door, he wasn’t there but was in the bed room, the door wide open; he turned round and — Ha — Ha — He — He — I won’t tell you.” “Nonsense, do.” “He turned round and showed it me. — He —He — he thought it was Lydia, I’m sure, for he turned round again and put it away and then round again, and said, “Tell your mother to cook me an egg.” Oho He — He — He.”
Then I heard that when she took up the egg and breakfast, the pious lodger told her that he didn’t know any one was in the room when he had turned round, begged her not to tell her sister or mother, and gave her half a crown. “But I’m sure he thought it was Lydia,” said the cunning little slut. “Was it stiff?” She nodded. I told her that no doubt they went to prayer meeting as an excuse, and that they then always fucked together. — Then I besought Winifred to come and chat with me at a house close by, but nothing would induce her, nor during two, three rides after would she do more than feel me, and let me just feel the top of her notch, so I grew tired of it. I had given her but a trifle more money, but had stuffed her each time with pastry, jelly, and brandy cherries.
“I’m going out of town, and shan’t see you any more, if you won’t come to a house with me, good bye.” — “Very well,” said she, but seemed rather astonished. — Then it occurred to me all of a sudden, and I wonder it hadn’t occurred to me before. — “I shouldn’t hurt you, you are so handsome that I wanted to look at you naked. — Doctors know how to get pleasure and give pleasure to girls, without doing them injury.” — “You a doctor? why didn’t you say so before?” — “Why should I?” — The girl began to think and agreed to meet me the next afternoon, but I got no further with her that day. I hadn’t quite lost my time, for it was much pleasure riding about with her, and feeling her little naked bum and thighs, but I resolved to stay away.
In a fortnight I went again, waited two afternoons, saw work-women coming out without her, and then boldly went to the shop at dusk and bought some-thing, being served by the mother, whom I found to be a very handsome woman, certainly not more than forty years old. Whilst serving, Winifred came in and seemed petrified when she saw me. I had fancied she was at home and had quite prepared for it, so pointed to some little article in the window that I wished to buy, and whilst the mother was getting it out, put into the girl’s hand a slip of paper, on which I had re-quested her to meet me next day, as I’d something important to tell her.
She met me and was full of news. — She’d not been well, and had kept at home — had watched her sister, seen the lodger put his hands up her clothes, told her sister of it, had not told her mother. — A gentleman was now courting her mother, she thought, and the two now often walked out of an evening together, leaving the girls to mind the shop. — Lydia then went out with the lodger once or twice after the mother had gone, leaving Winifred alone, but not for long. They always walked in the direction of the dark lane she had noticed. — Lydia said it didn’t matter if the lodger had felt her garters, for he’d marry her, Winifred told her she’d seen the attempt and then told of his showing his cock, and having seen them together go up * * * * pas-sage. Lydia slapped her, she slapped Lydia, and they had a lively row. Winifred said she’d tell her mother, but at length consented not to do so.
That day I took a baudy book filled with pictures with me, shewed Winifred some of it in the cab, and lent it her. I told her also that I’d give her five pounds if she’d come to a house with me and strip. One or two days after, I heard that Lydia had caught Winifred with the book, and then they both read it together. — Winifred told her that one of the dressmakers had lent it her. Winifred still wouldn’t go to a house with me, but she sat on my knee in the cab, and I titillated her little clitoris a long while, she wriggled and sighed but did not, I think, spend.
As after all these cab rides I didn’t get further than a feel of her cunt top, I grew tired of the affair. It was one of the most singular I have had. — Here was a girl only a few months over sixteen, whose eyes and manners shewed she was lewed but who wouldn’t answer any questions about fucking, yet would feel my cock, and allow the top of her split to be felt, but was cunning, and sufficient mistress of herself to go no further. The longer I live the more wonderful the ways of women in their lusts, and the greater variety in their manners there seems to be.
Intending to cease my chase of her, I begged her to bring me back the book, which she did one or two days after, when she’d resumed going to work. We looked over the pictures together in the cab, and I explained the postures to her. She said nothing, but she chuckled.
— I begged her to come to a house with me. — “I’m frightened.” Again I said that a doctor would never get a girl into trouble. — “I’m so frightened” — was all I could out of her, even after she’d filled her belly with pastry and cherry brandy, and tho she kissed me now in quite a winning manner, as if she liked kissing, and I was her lover.
I went to B****t*n for a fortnight and amused my-self there by fucking women on the sea shore. Several times I laid down on the beach with them, and altho it was hardish, it is a clean bed, and the women know the best places. What a lot of fucking goes on there when the night is dark. — “Come here, let’s go to the beach— go ahead, I’ll follow.” When there, it was: — “Here’s the money, don’t let me if you have any fear of yourself.” Then we were but one body for a few minutes, and then separated forever. — I took no ailment, and really as I only had the women when under the sudden impulse of a violent lust and great want of fucking, I enjoyed their cunts as much as those of swell Cyprians.
But I had a hankering after Winifred, returned to town, and, not seeing her in the shop, waited at her work place, and got her into a cab again. She was fuller of news than ever, and seemed delighted to see me. She had never expected to see me again, she said.
— “And you won’t unless you come to a house with me.” — “I’m frightened, but Lydia says I’m a fool,” said she, almost breathless.
I was astonished. I’d made up my mind that day to be brutal, to force my finger between her cunt lips, and break her hymen with my finger if she were virgin. — Now I deferred that intention, for luck in the fortnight had brought me nearer to my hopes. — It was now darkish at half past five, when we entered the cab.
She told me her mother walked out with a gentleman nearly every night, leaving the two girls together. Winifred wouldn’t now be in the house by herself often, but would mind the shop if Lydia wanted to talk to the lodger. The cunning little lass had, I found, an object. By going to the staircase through the door in the shop parlour, and listening, she could hear talking on the first floor. One evening Lydia went to her bed room; all was so quiet that Winifred locked the shop door, went quickly up stairs and opened the sitting room door. — No one was there — opened the bedroom door leading out of the sitting room, and there on the bed was Lydia, with her legs in the air and the lodger just finishing his fuck. — Next minute, with a screech, Lydia pushed him off and got on to the floor; he did the same, buttoning up his trousers. Winifred told the tale very neatly, by help of a few questions from me; she was dying to tell me, but only did so fully when I asked this and that.
She left the room, Lydia followed, begging and praying her sister not to tell her mother. They slept in the same room, confidence begat confidence, and in a few nights Winifred let out that it was a gentleman who had lent her the book, and had offered her five pounds. Lydia said she was a fool not to accept it. I saw that the elder sister in a scrape herself, wanted to get the younger into similar pickle, in order to shut her mouth. Sisters do that.
Winifred was delighted to tell. “Did you see your sister’s naked thighs?” — “Only one — he, he, he,” she giggled. “Had he his hand under her bum?” — “Yes — he — he — he.” — “What was he doing?”
— “I don’t know he — he.” — “Was his bum moving backwards and forwards?” “Yes and quick, He he
— he.” “What were they doing then?” “Oh, I don’t know.” — “You story, your sister told you and you knew before.” — “Oh! he, he, he.” And so the tale was told [it has afforded me many times since much amusement to think of the half artless yet cunning way in which the girl told the tale in the cab, whilst sitting on my knee, my finger trying to insinuate itself between her tightly crossed thighs.]
The sister had done for me what perhaps I might not have succeeded in by myself. Their talk, as I found afterwards, was constantly about fucking after that memorable evening, and I expect that heated Winifred’s cunt pretty well. A few days after, Winifred told me that her mother was going to be married again, and thought the girls had better go to service, as her intended couldn’t keep them. She also told me that they couldn’t pay their rent, and at times could scarcely get enough to eat. They had meat only every other day, but they kept up appearances. Lydia said she shouldn’t go to service again, she’d make the lodger marry her, but Winifred must. The family was evidently breaking up.
Then Winifred agreed to have dinner with me. She got a half holiday from her work, risking her mother’s finding it out. — I got a room at a well known French restaurant, and at two o’clock in the afternoon, there we were at table.
How that girl ate and drank! she’d never tasted anything in her life, she said, so delicious, at last she hiccupped, and I could see by her eyes and manner that she was hot with lust, under the beneficent effect of a well filled belly. We talked over her sister’s affair, what we had done in the cab, and what I wanted to do with her. It was — “He — he — he — ah!” every minute. Then. — “You won’t hurt me if I do, will you now?” At about half past three we were in a house together.
There the first thing she said was, “Oh I’m so full and so sleepy, let me lie down.” — “My love, you shall but take off your things.” — A little soft persuasion and she was soon in her chemise. — “Did you ever see a man naked.” — “No, — he, — he, — and don’t want.” — “Yes you do.” — Stripping to my shirt, I pulled it up to my arm pits, and with prick in the randiest glory, went up to her as she sat on the sofa, and made her handle and kiss it. — She was not loath. — “Come to the bed dear.” — “What are you going to do?” To give you such pleasure. — I must see and kiss that dear little cunt, it will give you such pleasure, now I will, it’s no use your struggling.” — After a few minutes of voluptuous persuasion, she was lying at the side of the bed with legs wide open, and I on my knees gloating on her virgin treasure.
She was tall and well formed, but quite thin. It was the thinness of a growing girl and not of weakness. Her cunt had fullish lips, with the slightest quantity of light brown hair half way down them, joining that on the motte, which was not half an inch long, and lay flat on one of the loveliest looking mounts I ever saw. There was no more hair on it than would cover half a crown. A delicate pale coral stripe, a little wider at the top, defined the cleft, the coral dying out delicately into the downy fringe and white flesh on the puffy outer cunt lips — With both hands I separated them, saw a small clitoris, little thin nymphae, and the broad oval expanse of coral vulva looking exquisite. There lay the pink road to the lower part of the cleft, looking darker and darker, as it sloped inwards to the mouth of the warm elastic tube, which was to give her and me such exquisite delight. The aperture seemed barred to a prick at its entrance, all but a little perforation, up which a small finger could alone have been passed, without injury to the firm yet soft, and semi-flexible red membrane.
The smell of the cunt rose into my nostrils, my brain seemed to whirl with voluptuousness as I kissed, and kissed, and glued my lips to it. — I put my hands under her little buttocks, held her closely to me, and began to lick her clitoris with libidinous delight.
How grateful I am to my Creator that he has thus far made me better and wiser than the beasts of the field, to whom the heavenly delights of gamahuching and minetting are unknown. — It is in such delicious, voluptuous pastimes that man is superior to other animals on the globe.
To lick such a lovely cunt and give delight to its possessor is a sign of the divinity which lives, whilst I live, within me. It justifies my hope of a heaven, when I have such a taste of paradise on earth as gamahuching and fucking gives me. [This reflection made at this period I give just as then written.]
“Oh! what are you doing?” — “Be still, dear, and you’ll have heavenly pleasure.” — I spluttered out, licking between each word, holding her now round her thighs tightly, so that no movement of her haunches could dislodge my mouth from her cunt. — Now my tongue sought the hymenial membrane, then tried to enter the little orifice, now it covered the whole surface of her vulva, filling my mouth almost with it, then it settled on the little red button, that enticing little knob to tongue and finger, where the greatest pleasure in gamahuching seems to be concentrated. I licked fast then slow, then gradually ceased, my tongue being fatigued by long exercise. She laid motionless, silent, and enjoying the sensual treat.
I looked at the field of my lingual exercise, holding the lips wide apart, seeing it all from motte to bum-hole, and with prick well nigh bursting, then went on gamachuching. — She had ceased speaking or moving, but now and then a clip of her thighs told me of voluptuous thrills. — On went my tongue, quicker and quicker as it got tired, longing for her crisis. — “Aha” — A slight quiver of the thighs, an almost imperceptible fucking jog of the belly, a shudder of pleasure. — “Aha — h, h, har — harrrre,” in a soft, sweet, moaning voice, and all was still. Winifred had spent.
I rose quickly, saw her cunt wetted with my saliva, and pearly moisture running from her hymen, whilst she still with eyes closed lay in the lassitude of her pleasure. Raising one thigh, I lodged my prick in her cunt gently, and with the other hand then grasping the other thigh, I bent over her and thrust. — “Oh. What are you doing? — oh, don’t — Ohoo, you’re hurting me — Ahar.” — The posture was not good for a defloration, for my prick was upright, her cunt horizontal, but nature teaches, instinct guides aright in its great scheme of procreation. As she moved, tighter and tighter I grasped her, bending over her till my naked belly met her naked belly (for chemise and shirt in the twinkling of an eye I had thrown up) and pressed and covered it. — Holding her thighs tightly, I thrust, and thrust violently, my prick a horn with the merest flexibility — I had lodged it well, and her wiggles never dislodged it. — “Aha — don’t now — aha — you said you wouldn’t.” — The creeping pleasure came on of my sperm leaving my balls where it lay like a load at its roots, till it rushed forward from some internal agency. Furious with lust, the whole strength of my loins, thighs, and backside, gathered together in compound force, and I lunged as if I would split her belly. I felt the tight clip of her hymen round my glans as it entered, and with one more thrust my prick lounged up her till it struck against her womb portals. With a softened shriek, and a gasp she then was still, and my prick, now with scarcely a thrust — its movements but short wriggles as the sensitive tip naturally sought her cunt’s depths — shot gobbet after gobbet of thick spunk into her vagina, and I sank over her, holding her to me, kissing her pretty little mouth as the last throes of pleasure died away, and left me lifeless with tremulous knees, but still holding her backside to me, still covering her body with mine and pressing my prick still up her, to soften and shrink, in the spermy bath it had made for itself.
Thus we were copulated long in silence, not a word said by either, till full consciousness came. Then seizing a towel which I had put on the bed to wipe my mouth with, when gamahuching, but which I’d never used, I thrust it under her bum, ready to receive the overflow of our lust. — Shrinking gradually, out came my prick, drawing with it blood streaked sperm. I squeezed the napkin round my prick, then thrusting it between her thighs, sat down on a neighbouring chair. She raised herself, sat on the edge of the bed, chemise above her knees, napkin still between her thighs, and began to cry and sob. It was no sham.
I can’t bear to see a female cry, and specially a woman whom I have fucked. I had triumphed after two months’ strategy and had the highest pleasure in her virgin body, and it grieved me to see her cry. From her boldness and friskiness hitherto, I had not expected it, so set to work to soothe and comfort her.
It was long before she was comforted. I have had virgins look ashamed after they had been pierced, and cry a wee bit, but never one cry like this one. There she sat, sobbing, rubbing her eyes, taking no heed of her cunt or the napkin, till. “My darling Winny, let me look at your dear little cunt.” Pushing her gently back on the bed again, without her resisting, she seemed almost as if my inspection was gratifying and a relief. I opened her thighs, took away the linen, and a sight of sanguinary semen it was. I wiped her cunt, looked at it, which she let me do quite placidly, and then sat her, with naked bum on my thigh, and at length comforted her successfully. Then, with warm water and a moist towel, carefully I wiped the outer surface of her quim.
As she rose to let me do so, blood and sperm were left on my thigh from her little lacerated cleft. — That sight stiffened me at once. — I was in prime condition, having kept myself from women for three or four days in anticipation of this treat. She knows now what fucking is, and luckily for her, early in life. She will have ten years more pleasure than had she waited till twenty-six before she’d been penetrated by a penis. — A girl can’t begin too soon, a boy had better wait longer perhaps, tho he won’t. At sixteen his generators don’t accumulate sperm rapidly or well. — But a girl suffers less loss of animal power from fucking, her juicy contribution in the exercise being slight, and not so exhausting.
The explosion of tears and sobs ceased. It was only caused by the shock to her nervous system. Fear, pleasure, pain, and the lewedness caused by the prick in her, upset her. She got better, talked frankly about her sensations, about her own and sister’s poking, as if she was already a judge of such performances, and might criticise the manner of doing it, and the propriety as well. — I made a good fire, as it was now coldish weather. She sat with naked bum on my naked thigh, and whilst respecting her deflorated slit which was sore. I delicately titillated her nascent clitoris, whilst fucking, in all varieties, was what we talked about; till, what with the heat which I have noticed follows, and quickly affects lewedly a deflorated quim, after the prick has split it up, and my performance on her clitoris, she was ready to allow me my pleasure again in about an hour.
“No, it really won’t hurt you again, I swear it will all be pleasure,” I said, as she sat on my knee by the fire. I had twiddled her quim for nearly an hour, got her to feel my pego, to admit that the gamahuche had given her pleasure, that she’d frigged herself for fully a year, that her sister frigged herself as well. Then I sat her down on a chair, and made her, whilst I stood, feel and inspect my red tipped erection. — “It’s a wonder it don’t hurt more,” she said with a “He — he — he.” — Gently to the bed I led her, looked at her little quim which had changed from coral to an angry red at its orifice, and in another minute she was on her back, and my prick by gentle pressure was engulfed in it. — How deliciously smooth and tight the sheath was. How I now pushed and poked in it slowly and cautiously, feeling its way about in it and as it were sounding its depth. Then I lay for a minute in baudy tranquillity up her. — “Does it hurt you now, love?” — “No, not now.” “Doesn’t it feel nice in you.” “Aha” — I pushed and poked, her cunt seemed to grow tighter and tighter, the sperm in it (for she had not washed it out) grew thicker and more adhesive. — Quicker and quicker go my to’s and fros’ within its grip. Baudy, voluptuous questions she only replied to by, — “Oh don’t — aha — aha.” — Her cunt clipped, and seemed to frictionize my glans with greed for my sperm, her belly grew into mine, and out throbbed my spunk into her.
In an hour more I fucked her again to her pleasure, her bleeding had ceased, she washed her cunt, and again I looked at the ravages I had made — again on my knees I gamahuched till she spent. Then in a cab I saw her nearly home, giving her jelly and a little cherry brandy on the way at a pastry cook’s. Then we separated. — Never had I a more delicious afternoon. My voluptuous recollections lasted me all night. — I wondered what her thoughts were. Whether she felt her quim often, how far she put her finger up, whether she wanted fucking again, and if she’d told her sister. I had forgotten the five pounds and so had she.
I suggested her meeting me again, and she was anxious to do so. What a fascinator a prick is when once tasted. But what would the mistress say about the half holiday, and suppose she told her mother? — Luckily, work seemed to be slack; when away half a day she only got half a day’s pay, which then suited the dressmaker — Winifred would have met me next day, but I couldn’t. The day after that we dined as before, and the bagnio received us. Winifred shewed a strong liking for food and cherry brandy, got excited, not in the least muzzy or muddled, but elevated, spiritualised. It was clear to me that the effect of liquor on her was strongly salacious. Her bright blue and sharp eyes got sharper and clearer, there was nervous energy in her, she undressed rapidly, sat on my thigh, and laid hold of my prick almost without my suggestion. — When it stiffened she said, “Oh!” — not in an enticing manner, but as if surprised, as if it had evoked suddenly lewedness, and she stared, I recollect, right in my eyes, as if my prick astonished her. — A minute afterwards I was on the bed with her, a look at the pretty coral-faced cunt — a kiss, a sniff on it, and we were fucking.
[This girl, I find, became to me a study. She no doubt was strictly virtuous till I had her, but the poke evoked her nature, which was sharply erotic, without any soft, loving qualities. I never knew much of her subsequent career, but guess it was that of a lustful one, who cared about fucking rather that the man who did it.]
It was a most voluptuous afternoon, and delightful to give her full pleasure. — She spent each time with me like the most full blooded woman. “Tell me, dear, when you’re going to spend, when your pleasure comes on.” — Yes, she would. — As we fucked, “Oh, I’m going to do it,” she sighed. I like to make women of whom I have had the first, tell me when the full tide of pleasure is on. They mostly enjoy it without a word, but if they tell they each use different expressions.
That dinner and afternoon was followed by a few others at intervals. — I could not entirely keep to her for there was a woman whose society I could not quite avoid, tho I wished to do so when I had got this lass to poke and instruct. But I had such pleasure with her that I postponed all other meetings with women that I could, so that I could enjoy it, within the juicy folds of Winifred’s pretty pouting, downy edged, coral lipped, slit. I was strong, wanted a woman daily, and after two or three days’ abstinence, sebaceous exudation in three or four hours, when anticipating my sexual treat, would cover my prick tip till it looked nearly white, instead of a fiery carmine. — It delighted me to put it in that white state into her unctuous little cunt. Then, after our first pleasure, it delighted me to watch the pearly viscosity meander from her cunt towards her arsehole, whilst kneeling between her legs, which I held up by the ankles high, but wide apart, so that I might see the channel which the pearly, lubricious stream took. She used to lay with eyes fixed on me, passive to all I did; indeed I believe, silently delighting in it. — Never have I found a young wench more ready to learn obscenity. All delicacy soon left her, and de-light in lascivious fun seemed part of her nature. She shewed that at our first cab ride. Yet she had never been brought up in the promiscuity of the poor, nor mixed, I found, with loose companions. She was by nature hot cunted, and I expect in after life was blazing with sexual passion, but I never knew.
I gave her the five pounds, and found she’d not yet spent the one pound. Like other girls placed similarly whom I have known, large sums (to them) embarrassed them, not knowing how to spend it without being found out.
The half holidays soon led to remarks from the dressmaker. — I had then to content myself with an hour’s society with her in the afternoon, and took her to the bagnio near her place of work. That was the easier now, because it was dark or nearly so when she left, tho even that was difficult, owing to the young lasses with whom she’d been accustomed to walk partly home. But no lies, trickery or risks, stand in the way of a gluttonous cunt. I had her every other day for an hour or more, and fucked her then twice regularly. Again she got one day a half holiday, we went to the other house, and after dinner fucked in bed start naked, to her delight. — She told me, every time we met, all about the goings on of her family. — Lydia was regularly fucked by the lodger. — The mother noticed nothing and seemed engrossed with her own love affairs — Winifred had told Lydia that she’d let me have her — Lydia approved and wanted to meet and see me, but I at once refused anything of the sort
— Winifred had given Lydia her money to keep for her.
— She had also looked at Winifred’s cunt, and shown Winifred her own. How I should have liked to have seen them at that, and heard their talk. Both girls had frigged themselves together side by side as they lay in the same bed. I heard all this and lots more.
Two or three days afterwards, I heard that the pious lodger, catching Winifred in the house alone some-where, had again shown her his stiff cock and had winked at her. — She had not told Lydia of it for fear of consequences — I have a suspicion that Lydia had told the lodger of Winifred’s slip, but I never knew — I went out of town for a fortnight, came back after Christmas, and, not seeing the girl near the workshop on two afternoons, went to the shop and walked past it, till I saw her with her mother. Then I stood close to the window and near to the light, till the girl noticed me, as I saw by the expression of her face. I went away, next day waited near the workshop, and saw the girl loitering about. — In five minutes we were in the house together.
To my annoyance, she had her courses on but I nevertheless poked her. She’d a lot to tell me. — One morning the lodger left after paying everything properly, and next day Lydia also disappeared, her clothes it seems had all been taken away by the lodger. She had joined him and wrote a letter to the mother to say they were going to be married, but no address was given. — The mother was in much grief about it, but she was also going to be married directly, to leave the shop, and go to the native town of her husband, where it seems he had a business. They now would take Winifred with them, unless she’d like to go to service. — What was she to do, she asked me?
She had given very voluptuous amusement to me for quite three months off and on. I liked coition with her, her cunt was an unusually tight one, and there was a peculiar, soft, clinging, adhesiveness in her vagina, a gummy mucosity is the only term I can use to de-scribe it, which was most delicious to my prick, and I think I have noticed something like that in the cunts of girls of about her age. But if she stopped in town in service, I could rarely expect to have her, and feared also from her lustful temperament that she’d soon go wrong, if she had no one to control her. So I advised her to go with her mother. She tossed her head at the advice and didn’t like it, expecting to re-main near me. At another meeting, she said she should stay in London, that the dressmaker had offered to take and keep her, but her mother objected. Winifred didn’t much mind that. Wasn’t I glad she asked. — I said very glad.
But I wasn’t very glad, for I didn’t wish the girl to come to harm, felt sure she’d get out from time to time alone, and with her temperament most certainly get another prick or two, and then turn gay. I told her so. Two or three days after she showed me a letter from Lydia, asking her to go to her, for she was very happy, and the lodger would keep them both (she wasn’t yet married). On no account was the address to be given to the mother. — I gave her that day an-other five pounds to help her in case of need, and she said she wouldn’t be fool enough to lend it to her sister this time.
I have much narrative written about Winifred, but it of much the same nature. Looking through it, I find the only things worth noticing are that she got so salacious that one day, unasked, she took my prick in her mouth, saying with a laugh that it was what they were doing in the picture * * * *. The action stopped there, but it was a sign of a warm temperament. She also said that gamahuching was very nice, but I never did it to her but once after the day of the slaughter of her virginity. — The mother married, Winifred was at the wedding, the stationer’s shop was let, the goods sold, and Winifred went to the country with her mother. I was glad when she was gone. I heard from her one or two months after. She was discontented and going to live with her sister who, said she, was married. I wondered if she was, and whether the pious husband who had shagged Lydia before he could legally do so would show his cock again to Winifred. I sent her five pounds to help her to go with. She wrote to thank me, and I thought I had heard the last of her, but I met her again four years afterwards by chance. She never knew my real name and address, and I always wrote in a feigned hand. Volu