{"id":1247,"date":"2022-08-17T18:01:33","date_gmt":"2022-08-17T18:01:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1247"},"modified":"2022-09-05T15:35:22","modified_gmt":"2022-09-05T15:35:22","slug":"volume-one-chapter-nine","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1247","title":{"rendered":"Volume One Chapter Nine"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t<div data-elementor-type=\"wp-page\" data-elementor-id=\"1247\" class=\"elementor elementor-1247\" data-elementor-settings=\"[]\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-section-wrap\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<section class=\"elementor-section elementor-top-section elementor-element elementor-element-cf49c3e elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"cf49c3e\" data-element_type=\"section\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-container elementor-column-gap-default\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-50 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-2efa845\" data-id=\"2efa845\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-e6a47b6 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"e6a47b6\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"html.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t<iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/embed\/album\/3oQGbbwsxYyxqj9yg9Jmgl\" width=\"300\" height=\"380\" frameborder=\"0\" allowtransparency=\"true\" allow=\"encrypted-media\"><\/iframe>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-50 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-79fc7d3\" data-id=\"79fc7d3\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-a6a26a7 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"a6a26a7\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"html.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t<iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/embed\/album\/2fJFjFwzVlg4xEzd49U5Vk\" width=\"300\" height=\"380\" frameborder=\"0\" allowtransparency=\"true\" allow=\"encrypted-media\"><\/iframe>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<section class=\"elementor-section elementor-top-section elementor-element elementor-element-dfe3fc4 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"dfe3fc4\" data-element_type=\"section\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-container elementor-column-gap-default\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-100 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-f144c41\" data-id=\"f144c41\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-03bc545 elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"03bc545\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"text-editor.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #5d1313; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 136\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">VOLUME 1 CHAPTER 9<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><i>Mrs. Smith. \u2022 A brutal husband. \u2022 My second adultery. A chaste servant. \u2022 Road harlots. \u2022 A poke in the open. \u2022 Use for a silk handkerchief. \u2022 A shilling a tail. \u2022 Clapped.<\/i><\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Henry had now much business to attend to, I had none. I used to wander into the back street just as the men\u2019s wives brought them their dinners, so as to look at them. They were not allowed inside, but if the men chose to eat inside they could do so, their wives waiting outside. Six or eight men had their dinners brought, the rest went away. The women most frequently sat on a door-step, or loitered over the gratings up which we used to look at night; or squatted down against the wall. I had once or twice looked up their clothes, but found little inviting, with the exception of a plump little pair of legs which belonged to a Mrs. Smith. She looked about twenty-six years of age, her husband twenty years older, a good workman but a brutal fellow. He bore a bad character among his fellows, and was thought a brute to his wife. Some said his wife drank; there was often a row in the street between them at dinner-time, he used to sit on the door-step and eat his dinner outside, she standing near him, and her legs came at times over a grating. I used to dodge downstairs at times at the workmen\u2019s dinner-hour, and have a look up, and that is how I saw, and began to think of the legs of Mrs. Smith. I took a sort of fancy to her, or rather her legs, so plump and clean. I saw she had a nice clean face with bright brown eyes, and then had a desire to fuck her. I again had desisted from frigging, had sworn to myself not to do so again, and now getting strength wanted a woman badly. Our eyes had often met, I had even got out of her way when passing her, a courtesy not often then shown by gentlemen to work-people. I used to stare at her so, that she began to look confused when I did. The husband never seemed to notice anything but his dinner, at which he usually swore. Sometimes I spoke to him about gun-making. I wanted to poke Mrs. Smith, but there did not seem to be the remotest chance, nor had I any intention of attempting it, but used to look at her with my cock standing, and wondering what sort of cunt she had. I had been brought up reliigously, and the idea of having a married woman seemed shocking. I was shocked when I found that Mary was married. At length I nodded, smiled, and established a sort of\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">intimacy in that way without speaking, managing to meet her as it were, quite casually when going to, or leaving the workshop.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #5d1313; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 137\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">One day the man dined on the step, his wife standing by his side; down I went to peep up her clothes and heard him rowing. \u201cWhy the hell had she not got him beef instead of mutton; God damn her, why were there no potatoes!\u201d That was his style. Angry words passed, the voices grew louder, I heard a loud smack and a strong oath, he had hit his wife and gone back into the work-shop.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">There was a great gabbling of female voices over the grating round Mrs. Smith. \u201cI would not stand it,\u201d said one. \u201cIt is a shame,\u201d said another. \u201cHe ought to be proud of such a wife, an old beast,\u201d said another. The husband came out again. \u201cI have done my best,\u201d said she, \u201cyou are not a man anyhow, or anywhere, for two pins I would run away from you.\u201d A loud oath, and another smack followed.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I heard Mrs. Smith sobbing. \u201cI have had a little drink,\u201d said she, \u201cI told him so. He makes me so unhappy, I must; but I spend scarce a trifle and it\u2019s what I earns myself. Ain\u2019t I clean? don\u2019t I bring him good meals?\u201d \u201cYou do, you do,\u201d said they. \u201cIt\u2019s a shame,\u201d she went on, \u201che is not a man, not in bed, not anywhere, not anyhow, I don\u2019t aggravate him, I put up with everything, it\u2019s full six months since he\u2019s been a husband to me, although we sleeps in the same bed,\u201d she added in a significant way, \u201cyes, six months full. \u201cLor,\u201d said half a dozen voices together, then said one, \u201cDon\u2019t he do anything to you then?\u201d Things quieted, off went Mrs. Smith with some of the women, two remained waiting for their husbands\u2019 platters, they squatted down on the step.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cThey\u2019re a miserable couple,\u201d said one. \u201cYes, and likely, he is never at home, no wonder she do take a drop of comfort.\u201d \u201cNo, it ain\u2019t.\u201d \u201cShe is a nice little woman, and no man gets his meals nicer.\u201d \u201cNo, that they don\u2019t.\u201d \u201cHe\u2019s too old for her, but he ain\u2019t jealous.\u201d \u201cNo, in course not.\u201d \u201cWhy he ain\u2019t done it to her for six months,\u201d said one. They both chuckled then. \u201cWhy, my old man don\u2019t forget me like that, and he is ten years older than Smith,\u201d said the other. \u201cAh!\u201d said the first, \u201che\u2019s a bad \u2018up altogether, men be a bad lot, the best on \u2019em.\u201d The time-bell rang, their husbands brought out their dinner-cans, and off the women went. I can scarcely tell what followed exactly or how it came about, for even now to me it seems astonishing. I was but between eighteen and\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">nineteen, and had not had the remotest idea of getting Mrs. Smith, though I longed for her lewedly when my cock stood. I was timid with women until I knew them well, I could never begin with our own servants until they had been in the house a few days; yet directly I heard this conversation, a chance seemed in my way, and without meaning it I followed it up.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #5d1313; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 138\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">With but little idea of married life or habits, I saw that not only were they a wretched couple, but that for months Smith had never touched his wife. I imagined then that married people were always doing it, that women were randier than men, \u2014 a common belief of young people. I thought: how she must want a poke ! how she would enjoy it! Out I went to see if Mrs. Smith was about, and saw her walking off with a group of sympathizers, who dropped off gradually, until she was left with one, with whom she went into a public-house. In a few minutes they came out and parted. On she went alone, and went into another public-house, and then wiping her eyes as she came out, went her way alone; I after her, lewed and thinking to myself, \u201cshe has not had it for six months,\u201d and so on. She went into a public-house now by herself. I waited till she came out, and saw she had been taking to many drops of comfort.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Without any definite intention as far as I can remember, but simply for lewed gratification, I went up to, and addressed her. She recognized me and stood stock still. She had a small bottle of what I found afterwards to be gin in her hand, which she put into her husband\u2019s dinner can. I told her I was sorry for her, having heard the row and all she had said. The reference to her wrongs roused her, and she said vehemently, \u201cHe is not a man anyhow or anywhere,\u201d and then was silent. I did not know what to say more, and walked on by her side. After a time she said, \u201cWhy are you walking with me sir?\u201d The only reply I made was that I liked it, and was sorry she had such a bad husband. She said she would rather be alone, but I walked on with her she carrying the little tin can with a cover. I not knowing what to do, offered to carry it for her, but she wouldinot let me.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Then she remarked, \u201cYou are very good, but don\u2019t come any further, it won\u2019t look well for a poor woman to be walking with gentleman; neighbors make mischief, and God knows, I have enough to bear already.\u201d My boldness having quite left me, I shook hands with her, which seemed to astonish her, and off she went. I followed her at a\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">distance, to her house, which was one of a row of small cottages fronting a ditch, and a field, on which carpets were beaten, and boys played, a scrubby poor place as you may be sure.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #5d1313; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 139\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I turned back hesitating. One moment wondering at my boldness, and wickedness in thinking of a married woman; the next, thinking I was a fool for not having asked her to let me; when I saw in the path, the top of the tin can she had been carrying. Here was a chance. I walked about for half an hour before I mustered up courage to go to the house. She opened her eyes wide when she saw me. \u201cWhat do you want?\u201d \u201cHere is the top of the dinner-can,\u201d said I innocently. \u201cOh!\u201d said she, \u201cI am so glad, he would have hit me if I had lost it.\u201d As she took it I entered and closed the door.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She had finished the gin, for the empty bottle was on the table. She may have been more than fuddled, I cannot say; for I was so excited that I recollect only the most prominent circumstances. I was in a funk, but my cock was stiff, and that overcame all scruples. The house had but two rooms: a kitchen I was standing in, the street-door opened on to it. An open door showed a neat bed in a clean white-washed bed-room. How I began I know not, but recollect telling what I had heard, and that for months he had not been a husband to her. That set her off talking wildly, and she said it all over again. She was sure he was spending his money on some dolly, hoped she might catch her, then cried, wiped her eyes and said, \u201cWell, that is no business of yours, I am a fool for talking to a young gentleman like you, I don\u2019t know what you are doing here.\u201d<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cLet me do it to you,\u201d said I, \u201cI have seen up your clothes, let me, \u2014 you are so nice, and I want you so badly; why should you not, he is no husband to you, and you such a nice woman.\u201d That was my artless beginning, or something like it. Fright at my impudence was struggling against my cock-stand. For a second she seemed speechless, then replied, \u201cWell sir, you ought to be ashamed, \u2014 a married woman like me.\u201d \u201cHe is no husband to you, he never does it to you, you know, \u2014 I heard you tell the women so; they laughed, and said he had some hussy whom he did it to.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s no business of yours, but he is a bad one,\u201d and she began crying again. \u201cNow go sir go, \u2014if he came home, he would murder me, if he found you here.\u201d\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">I don\u2019t know how the next came off, but I know I was kissing her, that I got my hand up her clothes, on to her cunt, that I pulled out my prick, that the struggling ceased, that I edged her to the bed-room, and that up against the bed she made a stand. \u201cOh! my God sir, I am a married woman, pray don\u2019t.\u201d Paying no heed, I got her clothes up and as she stood, was bending and trying to get my cock up her; but she was little, and I could not; it shoved up against her navel, and motte. That I suppose stirring her lust, overcame her, for she got on the bed, I got on her, and up her in a second.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #5d1313; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 140\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I was in a bursting state of randiness, and she must have been the same. I was ready to spend, she readier; for I had no sooner entered her than her breath shortened, she clasped me tight, quivered and wriggled, and we both spent. I lay up her, cock ready for further work. Up to that time I had not properly felt her, nor seen her body. I began fumbling about, put my hand down feeling cautiously round the stem of my cock and my ballocks. All was wet, I slid my finger below her cunt (feeling even near to an arse-hole was then beyond me), there it felt wetter; that stimulated me, and on I went grinding. She lay with her eyes closed without speaking. Soon we both went again, I had fucked her twice without uncunting.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The quiet dreamy enjoyment had barely began, when she pushed me off and sat up saying, \u201cWhat have I done? what have I done? I am a married woman!\u201d Then comes tears, then a kiss from me, then talk, then tears, and at intervals she told me a story of a bad, brutal, morose husband, who had not fucked her for months. Half frightened, half hysterical, it seemed as much pleasure to her to tell me her misery, as it had been to have me doing her husband\u2019s work. We moved off the bed. \u201cOh! my God,\u201d said she, \u201clook at the bed.\u201d I saw one wet patch as large as a tea- cup, and another as large as a crown at the spot where her bum had laid on the counterpaine. \u201cWhat shall I do?\u201d \u201cWash it.\u201d \u201cBut I have no other.\u201d It was a bore no doubt. I left without being able to get permission to see her again, but only tears, and an expression of her conviction that she was a wicked woman.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Although she had not asked me not to tell anyone, which women so often do who commit these little slips, I did not mention it to Henry. For three or four days afterwards she did not come to the factory. I went to her\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">cottage. She was out. At length at the dinner-hour I met her face to face by the factory. She looked ready to drop. An hour afterwards seeing her burly husband at work, off to her house I went, and gave a single knock. She opened the door, nearly fell back with surprise, and before she could recover herself I was indoors. I had an altercation, a refusal, almost a fight, but I conquered. Again she was fucked on the bed, and now for the first time I had a look at her charms, her cunt unwashed.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #5d1313; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 141\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She was a plump little woman, dark-haired on head and tail, her quim was neither large or small, her thighs round and white, she was an ordinary person, neither handsome nor plain, and my curiosity was soon satisfied. She kept exclaiming, \u201cOh! if he should come home!\u201d I fell to work again with vigor, and soon again spent. As I got off I observed under her bum again a large wet place, but now on her chemise. \u201cWhat a lot of spending you have done,\u201d said I. \u201cI can\u2019t help it,\u201d said she. My experience was small, but I knew that from no other woman whom I had stroked, had such an effusion taken place. Before I had spent I had felt her wetness on my fingers. I had her on another occasion, and the same thing occurred. I notice this because I only recollect meeting one other such case since; Mrs. Smith, like the other to whom I refer, used after a few pushes up her to squeeze her cunt, shiver, and discharge quite copiously, to be followed with a second pleasure and discharge when I spent. I only reflected on Mrs. Smith\u2019s peculiarity some years afterwards.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">In about a week I had her again at her cottage. Then she said if I came any more she would have trouble, for neighbors had already remarked a gentle-men at the house. I disregarded this, went and knocked. She opened the door cautiously with the chain up, and seeing me, shut it in my face. I was then about going to my own home, and feared I should not have her again, but found out that the husband spent his evenings at a tavern (I had a strange pleasure in looking at him after I had had his wife), that he was to be at some workman\u2019s carousal, watched him to the public-house, then ran to his cottage, gave a single loud knock at the door, which was this time opened unsuspiciously, and in I pushed before she could scarcely see who it was.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I had difficulty in persuading her to let me, she was more timid than ever, but promised that I would never come again. Then she got on to the bed. The crisis was just over when we heard a knock. With a shriek she\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">pushed me off and got up. \u201cHe will murder me, he will murder me,\u201d said she. I stood blank with bewilderment, relieved by another knock and a voice crying \u201cbeer.\u201d She fell on the floor fainting, and so alarmed me, that I nearly called in the neighbours. I put a pillow under her head. I don\u2019t know what induced me, for not three minutes before I was frightened out of my life, but as she laid there close by the fire (at the knock we had rushed into the kitchen), I pulled up her clothes. The flickering of the fire showed her thighs and cunt in a strange light to me. As I pulled her legs asunder, I felt ashamed, but lust was strong. I looked at the cunt, the novelty of an in-sensible woman on the floor excited me, the next instant in spite of her, for she recovered just as I laid on her, my prick was up her, and my knuckles on the hard bit of dingy carpet, and as I grasped her bum, it seemed that my poke was most delicious. So much for novelty and imagination. I left immediately afterwards.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #5d1313; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 142\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Then I went home to my mother. In about three weeks, went to see Henry, again as I said, but really to get to Mrs. Smith, and found her husband had been discharged. I went off to the cottage, it was empty. They had gone no one knew where, and he had half murdered his wife. I wondered. if it had been about me. Then my conscience upbraided me with having committed adultery. I took to going to church more regularly, and repeated the commandments emphatically.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I was now approaching nineteen years, was at home doing nothing but study, and with scarcely a farthing of money. I tried to get into one of our servant\u2019s unsuccessfully, she was a plain lass, but had a cunt, which. was all I wanted. I began to kiss and fondle her, which she submitted to demurely. Then by surprise one day got my hand up her clothes, and between her cunt-lips. She loudly screamed, which luckily was unheard, for my mother was out. Her cunt felt wet, and I found from my fingers afterwards that she was poorly built. She rushed downstairs crying violently, the next day gave warning and left, much to my relief. She never I am sure told my mother, but I was in a fright until she had left.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I restrained myself from frigging, although sorely tempted to do so, and luckily found cheaper and better relief. \u2013Having had but one gay woman, and having a dread of them, neverthless, my mind involuntarily turned to them, especially as I now defied my mother, stopped out of nights latish, and consequently saw more of them. But I had no money.<\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #5d1313; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 143\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">Between London and our suburb, there were some lengths of road bounded by fields, and only lighted by oil-lamps. At places small houses were being built in side-roads, which were altogether without light. Gay women of a poor class, were then of an evening about the darkest parts, or they used to walk where the roads were lighter. They were of that class who go with labouring men, and were not attractive, although cleaner and better-looking than the same class now is.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">One evening I worried an aunt out of two pounds, which I had with a solitary shilling besides; and was returning, when a woman accosted me. She walked by my side and talked, but I could not afford a soverign, which was a much larger sum then than it now is, and a shilling, seemed to me a ridiculous sum, so I determined to run, for fear I should be fool enough to let her have a soverign. \u201cI can\u2019t,\u201d said ., \u201cgood night, I only have a shilling.\u201d \u201cMake it two,\u201d said she. \u201cI have not got more.\u201d \u201cGive it me then.\u201d I stopped in astonishment at the idea of her taking such a trifle. \u201cShe is going to take it and go off,\u201d thought I, for I had known such a thing, but I gave her the shilling and then stood still. \u201cWell, are you not going to have it?\u201d said she, \u201cmake haste.\u201d It was a dark night, but I saw from a white gleam that her clothes were up, felt where the nick was, and in much agitation thrust my tool up it.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Having a woman in the open up against a field fence, and without seeing her cunt, or even her face, was a novelty to me. For a long time I had been bottling up my sperm. All fear left me, and it seemed the most delicious fuck I ever had had. In a few pushes I spent, and kept my belly up against hers in silent delight, till I felt sperm trickling down over my balls. Telling me to take care of my shirt she drew her bum back. Scarcely recovered from my pleasure and still wondering how I had such pleasure with so poor a woman, I suppose I must have said something of the sort, for she remarked, \u201cWhy not? we are all made the same way, and if some of us had more cheek, we might have as good clothes as the best, but there are plenty of real gents glad enough to have us,\u201d and so we talked for a minute. I had not felt her and now longed to do so, but was too timid to ask her. She turned away. I had been wiping my cock with a silk pocket handkerchief, to prevent any sperm getting on to my shirt. A happy idea came. \u201cLet me feel you, and do it again and I will give you this silk handkerchief, for I have no more money.\u201d Laughing and saying, \u201cI suppose it is silk,\u201d she accepted it. I think now of the exquisite delight,\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">with which I felt the thighs and bum of that poor woman, who might for all I could see, have had the great, or the small pox, or have been as ugly as the devil; but I stroked her belly, twiddled her wet cunt-hair (she had pissed), plunged my fingers into her wet cunt, and at length spent again in it, with more delight, than I have had with some of the most dashing women since that time.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #5d1313; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 144\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">After funking about pox and clap, fdr a few days, out I sped one evening to try to get her again, delighted at the economical rate at which I found it now possible to have women. But I always was liberal, and gave her three or four shillings. Several times I had had her afterwards and never saw her face. At length I insisted on going when I could see her. She refused until tempted by an offer, then agreed to meet me at a place which she named; saying, \u201cAnd I will put on a clean chemise and stockings.\u201d I met her, and found her to be about thirty-five years old, and one of the ugliest women I ever saw.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She was so plain that all desire left me. I looked her all over, to which she made no objection, remarking as she pulled up her clothes, \u201cAh, you may look, I am as dean as any woman although I am what I am.\u201d I went on looking at, and fiddling her about, but no erection came. She gave an uneasy motion with her bum and said, \u201cOh ! you are tickling me so, why don\u2019t you get on?\u201d I said I did not want it yet, which so astonished her, that she sat upright, and looked at me and at my tool. Then she made me lay down on the poor bed, and mutual feeling soon brought me to a proper state. \u201cDon\u2019t you be quick or you will spoil me,\u201d said she. Her manner was quite different from what it had been on the high road, it was amorous. I forgot her ugliness, and fucking with all my heart, spent when her hard breathing, tightening cunt, and clasping arms, told me she enjoyed it also.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Then the miserable room, and her ugliness revolted me. I moved to get off, but she retained me, asking me to talk. Somewhat against my inclination I did. She laid hold of my prick, pinching it. The gentle pleasure returned, and it ended in my doing her again, as much to her delight as mine. She said so. Instead of feeling pleased, it made her seem to me ugly. I went away, and although I. argued with myself, especially when I only had a shilling or two, yet I never could bring myself to have\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">her again. When I saw her on the road, I went the other side of the way, and soon lost sight of her.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #5d1313; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 145\"><div class=\"layoutArea\"><div class=\"column\"><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Finding that I had not suffered by my indiscretion, I got bolder, took the run of the road, and must have had a dozen girls at a shilling a tail. One night as I fumbled a girl, she frigged me vigorously. \u201cI will do it this way,\u201d said she, \u201cyou will like it so.\u201d But I refused. \u201cI will give you such pleasure,\u201d said she again, \u201call the gents say I do it better than any girl.\u201d But again I refused. \u201cI am afraid my monthlies are just coming on,\u201d said she. But up I put it, and went home satisfied. Two or three mornings afterwards I felt a slight itching at the tip of my prick, but took no notice of it; the next morning piddling, to my horror I saw a little yellowish fluid oozing, and sat down in consternation. I had got a clap.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">This laid me up for weeks, I went to a strange doctor and managed to keep it from my mother, but was in anxiety as to how I was to pay the doctor. Fortune and misfortune often follow each other. My long promised appointment came from the W. .Office just as I was getting well. With overwhelming joy I saw some chance of a little money, beyond what I got by begging from relatives; and then also my mother, at the advice of an uncle, who pointed out that in a year and a half I could not be kept out of my property, allowed me a fair monthly stipend.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I now found out that women of a superior class, were to be had much cheaper, than my great friends used to talk of ; but at the time I write of, a sovereign would get any woman, and ten shillings as nice a one as you needed. Two good furnished rooms near the Clubs, could be had by women for from fifteen to twenty shillings per week, a handsome silk dress for five or ten pounds, and other things in proportion. So cunt was a more reasonable article than it now is, and I got quite nice girls at from five to ten shillings a poke, and had several in their own rooms, but sometimes paying half-a-crown extra for a room elsewhere.<\/p><p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">When with but little money, I used to take out my best silk handkerchiefs, and give them with money, and once or twice I gave nothing else. One night to a nice-looking girl I said I could give her nothing but a handkerchief. \u201cAll right,\u201d said she without a murmur. When I had fucked her, she laid still on the bed and before she washed her cunt examined the handkerchief very carefully. \u201cIt\u2019s a rare good new one, it will pop for half-a-crown where I am known, where did you prig\u00a0<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">it?\u201d looking at me as she spoke, and then added, \u201cYet you look like a gentleman too.\u201d I recollect it as well as if it were yesterday. I at that time used to take pleasure in laying as long as I could after I had spent, then getting up and kneeling between the girl\u2019s legs opening her cunt and watching the spunk at the mouth, or the big drops rolling down between the cheeks of her bum. I was kneeling so then, and was not a little shocked at her remark. That girl was young, handsome, well made, and in the Hay-market would now get anything from one to five pounds, yet I had her several times for three and four shillings a time.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>VOLUME 1 CHAPTER 9 Mrs. Smith. \u2022 A brutal husband. \u2022 My second adultery. A chaste servant. \u2022 Road harlots. \u2022 A poke in the open. \u2022 Use for a silk handkerchief. \u2022 A shilling a tail. \u2022 Clapped. Henry had now much business to attend to, I had none. I used to wander into &hellip;<\/p>\n<p class=\"read-more\"> <a class=\"\" href=\"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1247\"> <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Volume One Chapter Nine<\/span> Read More &raquo;<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1247","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1247"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1247"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1247\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1852,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1247\/revisions\/1852"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1247"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}