{"id":1358,"date":"2022-08-18T17:31:30","date_gmt":"2022-08-18T17:31:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1358"},"modified":"2022-09-10T18:08:29","modified_gmt":"2022-09-10T18:08:29","slug":"volume-three-chapter-seven","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1358","title":{"rendered":"Volume Three Chapter Seven"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t<div data-elementor-type=\"wp-page\" data-elementor-id=\"1358\" class=\"elementor elementor-1358\" 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-91dc146 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"91dc146\" 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-9c9b5ce\" data-id=\"9c9b5ce\" 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-e08fa3e elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"e08fa3e\" 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\/0tKlhA3SuXj3fuQBSQ4vhy\" 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-8aed7d0\" data-id=\"8aed7d0\" 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-d5e91f7 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"d5e91f7\" 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\/77OhDl2LxUUIpT7fxgHNkX\" 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-285568b elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"285568b\" 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-186791f\" data-id=\"186791f\" 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-7e30c69 elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"7e30c69\" 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: #601818; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 489\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><b>VOLUME 3 CHAPTER 7<\/b><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><i>Brighton Bessie. \u2022 Change irresistible. \u2022 Bessie in quod. \u2022 Lewd effects. \u2022 Spooning. \u2022 Her home. \u2022 Her cabman. \u2022 Reflexions. \u2022 Two years after. \u2022 Five years later on. \u2022 The mouse\u2019s promenade. \u2022 Bessie disappears.<\/i><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I met in the Strand one night Bessie, who put her arms round me. I repulsed her, she saw her mistake, and followed me to a baudy house. Inside she began kissing me excitedly, and said she was so glad to see me back, that she did not know what she was about. It was not our usual house, I was in a hurry, so after I had fucked her was going away. \u201cWhat one fuck only!\u2014you have not had me for a year nearly, \u2014 I\u2019m damned if you go till you have given me another, \u2014 that dear old prick, I\u2019ve thought of it fifty times when I have been poked.\u201d So I fucked her again, and after-wards resumed seeing her, for she was much to my taste sexually. I had many voluptuous amusements with her which she liked and invited, although I have no recollection of playing any of those curious erotic tricks which gratified me later on in life, nice attitudes being then for the most part enough for me. My balls were running over with sperm in those days, and if I could control myself for a few minutes when my prick was stiff, it was as much as I could do. Bessie was full-blooded, and loved to take her fucking with me. kissing me furiously as her pleasure came on. We used again to pass hours at the house in B. w Street, reading, drinking, talking, and copulating at intervals.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Yet I went after other women for all that, for fresh cunt was irresistible. Once when I had been away I missed her for a few days, then I saw her coming out of a public-house. \u201cOh! I\u2019m so glad, \u2014 I\u2019ve been locked up, \u2014 it\u2019s a damned shame\u201d, she cried out, \u201cI was marched off without having said a word by a policeman, \u2014 blast him !\u2014and all because I would not let the bugger fuck me one night up in Street, \u2014 I\u2019d never let a policeman touch me, \u2014 damn them all.\u201d She spoke loud to a man and two or three sympathising women, a mob began to gather round her, so noisy was she.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I turned as quickly as I could up a side-street, she following me. \u201cOh ! come my dear, come, \u2014 how glad I am to see you, \u2014 I did nothing but&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">think of you whilst I was locked up, \u2014 oh ! God I\u2019m dying for a fuck, \u2014 a whole fortnight I\u2019ve not had it, and I did nothing but think of you when I frigged myself.\u201d There was a roar of laughter from half-a-dozen women who had followed her. \u201cShut up\u201d, said some one. \u201cAin\u2019t she a letting out!\u201d said another. \u201cAin\u2019t you ashamed of yourself?\u201d said a third. \u201cIt\u2019s one of her men\u201d, said another. \u201cShe is a nice woman\u201d, said some one else. \u201cIt was a damned shame\u201d, said another. \u201cI know him\u201d, said a voice, \u201che wants every woman in the Strand, and if he don\u2019t get them he walks them off.\u201d \u201cYes the bugger.\u201d \u201cShe is just out.\u201d \u201cYes, and he quoded Mary Summers last night.\u201d \u201cAnd he is a married man with a large family\u201d, \u2014 and so on. I felt overwhelmed, and inclined to run away. She turned into the first house which had a door open, and I was glad when the friendly red-curtained door closed be-hind me, she galloping upstairs in front of me, showing her fat calves. I followed Bessie into a bed-room.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #601818; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 490\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cFive shillings\u201d, said the woman to me. \u201cIt\u2019s all right, you go, \u2014 he\u2019s an old friend of mine, \u2014 don\u2019t bother\u201d, said Bessie pushing the servant out of the room, and slamming the door, then throwing her bon-net on a chair she caught hold of me, gluing her lips to mine, feeling at my trousers front she cried out, \u201cLet\u2019s fuck, \u2014 come and fuck me, \u2014 I\u2019m dying for you, \u2014a fuck from you, \u2014 oh! put your prick up.\u201d She had got it out, threw herself on the bed opening her thighs wide, and showing her cuntal beauties, calling on me to fuck her. I mounted her immediately, it was impossible to withstand her randy impetuosity; contagious lewdness coursed through my veins.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cOh! my God\u201d, said she as my prick drove home, \u201cI\u2019m coming, \u2014 oh ! my God, \u2014 fuck, \u2014 fuck, \u2014 oh ! I\u2019m spending, \u2014 oh l my darling, \u2014 fuck, \u2014 spend, \u2014 oh !\u2014oooh !\u201d I never had a woman in a higher state of randiness, she would not let me go till I had fully eased her passions, she lavished expressions of love and tenderness on me. \u201cDon\u2019t pull it out, \u2014 there dear, there, \u2014 lay still on me, I\u2019ll keep it up, it will be stiff again, \u2014 there it\u2019s stiff now.\u201d I stopped with her some hours. A policeman on the beat she said, had taken a fancy to her, had asked her to let him do it to her up against the dark wall at the back of E. . . .r H. .l. She would not, he threatened, still she refused, so he took her to the station one night on the plea of her annoying gentlemen, and the magistrate gave her a fortnight in prison. She had come out that very day, and was rather tight. In a few weeks Bessie got more and more friendly. I was the first to leave,&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">and she to ask what was my hurry. When I thought I had been detaining her too long for my moderate compliment, she would say, \u201cOh! never mind, I\u2019ll make ten shillings do, \u2014 I\u2019m not in debt, \u2014 before the theatres are over I dare say I\u2019ll get engaged.\u201d It was impossible to avoid seeing she was getting affectionate. She would sit or lay talking, feeling, or kissing me for hours, whilst her expressions of pleasure when I was stirring up her vitals equalled those of any woman who has ever loved me or enjoyed my embraces.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #601818; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 491\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">One night I was charged twice for the room, for stopping long, and said something about not being able to afford it. That brought forth a proposition, one of the most curious I ever had in my life.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Said she, \u201cIt\u2019s a lot of money to spend on the rooms, \u2014 come to my rooms; they would be too humble for you, but they are clean and nice, \u2014 drop me a line, and I will always be at home, \u2014 and you would be more comfortable than at these houses, and have no-thing to pay.\u201d Then after hesitation, and as if reflecting, she said she lived in the New North road where she had either a small house or rooms in one, I don\u2019t quite recollect which. \u201cIt\u2019s paid for by a friend of mine, he gives me ten shillings a week. Now don\u2019t think little of me because I tell you this, \u2014 he is only a cabman, he sleeps with me nearly always, he\u2019s a nice clean, steady man, and behaves well to me; but I don\u2019t like him since I\u2019ve known you. You can come when you like, and sleep with me when you like, \u2014 I\u2019ll give him up, he shall never come near me again, and I\u2019ll always be there for you, \u2014 you will see what a large comfortable bed I\u2019ve got, \u2014 but you must pay for the rooms, I must feel sure of a roof over me, \u2014 I don\u2019t care about anything else, \u2014 then you can see me when you like, give me what you like, \u2014 nothing if you have not got it, \u2014 I don\u2019t want your money, I\u2019ll get that as I now do.\u201d<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">She said all this in a humble way looking at me, tears half filled her eyes, her tone was sad; it was in its way a clear but simple declaration of affection for me. I saw it, felt it, but shunned it; for a strange dislike to a gay woman loving me came over me, some sort of undefined idea that I should be a species of fancy-man, a man whom I always thought at that time was a baudy house bully; and the offer of Bessie op-pressed me.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I told her she was very kind, that I appreciated it, but it was a long way off, \u2014 I would not think of it, \u2014 I did not wish her to give up a friend for&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">me, \u2014 that there were obstacles to my accepting which I could not tell her of, and so on. I scarcely knew what to say in refusing without wounding her feelings.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #601818; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 492\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cI am sorry I told you, for you won\u2019t think as much of me as you did, it\u2019s the simple truth, \u2014 you don\u2019t believe me? \u2014 only come up and see me.\u201d But I could not then think of displacing a cabman, I d d not even like to think of my prick having taken its pleasure in the cunt which had wriggled the prick of a cabman. My experience in life might have told me, had I thought about it, that the possibility was that my prick might have rubbed up the same channel that a burglar\u2019s had. I only saw that I was asked to displace a common man in the affection of a street-doxy, I appreciated the affection which prompted the offer of exchange, felt gratified and sorry at the same time, especially when I saw tears in the poor woman\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I again said I would if it were not such a long way off, but perhaps I would, and so on. I never did go to her house, but saw her from time to tame, until I fell madly in love with a lady of pleasure and would have given almost my life for her to have loved me. So Bessie was avenged, for I had fallen in love with a doxy after all.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">When this infatuation occurred I ceased seeing Bessie. Then in my trouble a year or two afterwards I sought her again, and told her my trouble. \u201cAh! you would not love me when I was fond of you, but you love her, and she plays on it, \u2014 don\u2019t you let her fool you\u201d, said Bessie, \u201cshe has got a man, \u2014 all you give her he will get, I know it from what you tell me.\u201d Bessie was right, but Sarah after a time as I shall tell, did not deceive me about the matter.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Then I missed Bessie for a year or two, then found her again in the Strand, she was much altered. \u201cI don\u2019t think I ever liked a man to fuck me as I do you\u201d, said she one night as she enjoyed me, \u201cif you had but come up to my little home you would have saved me a lot of trouble.\u201d But I could not get out of her what she meant by that.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">Full five years afterwards, when roaming about not far from the Haymarket one night I met her, and scarcely knew her. She stopped short, \u201cYou Bessie!\u201d \u201cAh ! yes it\u2019s Brighton Bessie, but I\u2019m sadly altered, sure enough.\u201d \u201cAnd you knew me?\u201d \u201cKnow you !\u2014I should know you by&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">your eyes, if I saw nothing more of your face but your eyes, \u2014 I should know you to the last day of your life\u201d, said she. She was always talking about my eyes. She had seen me several times, but had not dared to accost me she said. I told her she always might.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" style=\"color: #601818; font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\" title=\"Page 493\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I took her to what had become my favourite baudy house. It was a hot night, and we fucked on the sofa. She had become flabby, and said she had ill health, but I could glean nothing from her about her career, excepting that for some years she had not been gay. We stripped naked, and had just finished fucking her on the sofa when I felt something running over my legs, bum and back over my shoulder, on to hers. It was instantaneous. Then I saw a mouse which had run over us, and went fast up the wall into some red curtains where it was lost, \u2014 it made her shudder, and me too. That is one of the odd events by which I shall always recollect the last time I had Brighton Bessie. \u201cYou won\u2019t see me again I dare say\u201d, said she in a plaintive tone, and a tear in her eye as we parted. I said I dare say I should. \u201cNo you won\u2019t, \u2014 good bye dear.\u201d With a sigh the poor woman left me, and I never saw her again.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">It was whilst I was frequenting Bessie, and occasion-ally other doxies that the following adventure occurred.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I was frequently now at my mother\u2019s house,&nbsp;<span style=\"font-weight: bold;\"><i>my brother was away, and both my sisters married<\/i><\/span>. I used to stop with her for days together, finding that a relief from home misery, and also agreeable company to her, who was now so much alone.<span style=\"font-weight: bold;\"><i>&nbsp;I also at times stopped with one of my sisters whose husband I liked; the other lived some distance from London.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/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 3 CHAPTER 7 Brighton Bessie. \u2022 Change irresistible. \u2022 Bessie in quod. \u2022 Lewd effects. \u2022 Spooning. \u2022 Her home. \u2022 Her cabman. \u2022 Reflexions. \u2022 Two years after. \u2022 Five years later on. \u2022 The mouse\u2019s promenade. \u2022 Bessie disappears. I met in the Strand one night Bessie, who put her arms round &hellip;<\/p>\n<p class=\"read-more\"> <a class=\"\" href=\"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1358\"> <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Volume Three Chapter Seven<\/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-1358","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1358"}],"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=1358"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1358\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2129,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1358\/revisions\/2129"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1358"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}