{"id":1360,"date":"2022-08-18T17:31:52","date_gmt":"2022-08-18T17:31:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1360"},"modified":"2022-09-10T18:19:24","modified_gmt":"2022-09-10T18:19:24","slug":"volume-three-chapter-eight","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1360","title":{"rendered":"Volume Three Chapter Eight"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t<div data-elementor-type=\"wp-page\" data-elementor-id=\"1360\" class=\"elementor elementor-1360\" 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-55c65ee elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"55c65ee\" 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-0bce1b1\" data-id=\"0bce1b1\" 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-6ffc26a elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"6ffc26a\" 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\/79WJeYxPvpKbqvcGMcZaD7\" 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-5493b81\" data-id=\"5493b81\" 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-1259475 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"1259475\" 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\/3yDfREjjYVMD7KubnLU2Qv\" 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-561ebf4 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"561ebf4\" 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-6960297\" data-id=\"6960297\" 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-99be154 elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"99be154\" 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\" title=\"Page 494\" style=\"color: rgb(82, 13, 13); font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><b>VOLUME 3 CHAPTER 8<\/b><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\"><i>Washerwomen. \u2022 Matilda and Esther. \u2022 A peep over a wall. \u2022 Eaves dropping. \u2022 A girl\u2019s wants. \u2022 Shaking a tooleywag. \u2022 A promenade by a barrow. \u2022 Disclosures. \u2022 A snatch and a scuffle. \u2022 An assignation.<\/i><\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I went to see my mother one day in Summer, and after luncheon walked to the end of the garden often mentioned. At one side of it was a road which gave access to a gentleman\u2019s house, and on the other to my mother\u2019s. There the carriage road stopped, and a foot-path began. At the junction was a mews wide enough for a cart, which ran at the end of our garden and those adjoining. Our entrance to it had been disused, we having one in the side-wall opening on to the road, and the neighbours rarely used their back-entrances. The mews was grass-grown. On the opposite side to our garden-walls was the wall of very large grounds. A gate not locked, formed of open bars was at the end of the mews next to the road.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The footpath mentioned passed between walls of large gardens, and the between fields, until it joined a road on the other side of which was the village church-yard, through which the footway passage continued till again a high-road intervened. This continuous footway formed a short cut to a distant part of the parish. It was not much used excepting on Sundays, and by lovers who walked there on summer nights. I had found out years before that the mews at the back of our house was an occasional pissing-place, it being round the corner, and out of sight. I used to peep over the wall in hopes of seeing a female at that operation, mounting to do so by the gardener\u2019s ladder. When I saw a woman piddle it was great delight to me, but I more frequently saw men whose cocks had no attraction for me. On Sunday nights after church, the splash and rustle of petticoats could be heard, but not seen; the sight was however rare at any time, for few people had the boldness to push open the gate, and enter the mews.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I never saw copulation, the greatest fun I had was once seeing a female bogging, who turned round and gathered two or three of the largest leaves from the lime-trees in our gardens which overhung the wall,&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">wiped her arse with them, and left them sticking on the top of her turds; but she never noticed a youth peeping just over her head. One reason why I was never detected watching was that women always turned their bums to our wall, and so I was at the back of them. Charlotte and I have both looked over the wall.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 495\" style=\"color: rgb(82, 13, 13); font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The wall was mostly covered with our ivy, which fell down in thick masses on the mews side; lime-trees at intervals completed the screen. Any one peeping down from above could be sufficiently hidden if he put his head carefully above the wall at places, and pushed aside the boughs. On the day I speak of, I walked round the garden thinking of old times, of how Charlotte and I used to see if the cook was talking to the gardener before we began our amorous play, of the pranks Fred and others played there, and all the occurrences of my youth, which had taken place in the house and garden.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The gardener was away. I thought I would look over the wall; so placing the ladder got up, and looking down saw two girls sitting on the handles of a barrow on which were baskets filled with linen. One looked about sixteen, the other a little older. It was a dreadfully hot day, the barrow was at the angle of the mews. They were talking, and I moved the ladder to get a place nearer to them and not to be seen; for to watch and hear women who thought themselves unobserved and unheard, was always a delight to me. If you ever hear two women talking on amorous subjects, their disclosures you will find are always charming to a man.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">At the angle of our garden, and just where the road joined the mews, a large notice-board had been put up for some purpose since I had lived there; it was just outside and higher than our wall. Between the back of it and the wall was a space of a few inches. Our ivy had grown up it at places, and filled up most of the space, but enough was left at the angle to let me look down on the barrow which was just outside the mews-gate, out of the way of what small traffic there was, the gate of the mews being wide open. Then of all my eaves dropping I have never yet heard anything so amusing as I did then. The air was solemnly quiet in the hot summer\u2019s afternoon and though the girls spoke quite softly, I heard them well.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cI should like to feel what it is like\u201d, said the youngest whose face was towards me. There was a mixture of fun, audacity, curiosity and lewdness&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">on that girl\u2019s face. \u201cHish l some one will hear you\u201d, and something else I could not hear, said the other. \u201cFuck\u2014there then\u201d, said the young one saucily and laughing. The older gave her a slap. \u201cNow you may take the things home alone, \u2014 I won\u2019t help.\u201d \u201cIf you don\u2019t I\u2019ll tell mother.\u201d \u201cDon\u2019t care.\u201d \u201cYes you do,-what did you say it for?\u201d \u201cDidn\u2019t you say it?\u201d \u201cI didn\u2019t bawl it out you fool.\u201d \u201cFuck, \u2014 there, \u2014 there\u201d, said the younger going off. \u201cThere it may stay then\u201d, said the older angrily, and she moved also off round the corner. They were both out of sight in a second, but I heard their voices quarrelling, the barrow and clothes-baskets were unattended just outside the mews-gate.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 496\" style=\"color: rgb(82, 13, 13); font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">A labouring man came along in the opposite direction. Seeing the barrow he stood and looked round in all directions, turned into the mews, and I think he was going to steal, but thought better of it. I had peeped quite round the board, but had dropped into the old place again, the man turned to the wall, and pissed just under me, his head turned, and looking at the clothes-baskets all the time, then he drew the fore-skin fackwards and forwards when he had finished, till his prick was standing, an article any man might have been proud of; he played with it, and might have been going to frig himself had he not been interrupted.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The girls came back round the corner just then still wrangling, they stopped as they came on the man, who turning round shook his tooleywag at them, and moved out of sight, but not out of my hearing. \u201cThis is the sort of thing that would please you\u201d, said he wagging it. \u201cGo along you beast, I\u2019ll call a policeman.\u201d \u201cYou wouldn\u2019t call out if it was up your cunt\u201d, \u2014 and he walked off laughing. The girls were quiet for an instant, and then laughed. \u201cHish !\u201d said one, \u201che is not gone.\u201d The other looked round the corner, and said he had; then they laughed loudly.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cWas it not big!\u201d \u201cDid you see it?\u201d \u201cYes, and stiff, \u2014 ha\u2014ha\u2014ha.\u201d \u201cHe\u2014 he\u2014he.\u201d \u201cIt looked as if it would split any one\u201d, said the little one who sat down on the barrow-handle again. \u201cSarah says the bigger it is the better it is\u201d, said the other, and then they laughed. \u201cHush !\u201d said the bigger one, \u201csome one may hear us.\u201d Turning her rump to the wall she pissed just where the man had. The little one did the same, then off they went, one trundling, the other holding the baskets steady. They took the heavy work in turns I found.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 497\" style=\"color: rgb(82, 13, 13); font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I rushed to the house, then out, and followed the girls, a desire to show them my prick was on me. As I followed my intentions cooled, fearing they might tell a policeman. I had not the experience then that I now have, or should have feared nothing of the sort, for girls tell no one but each other if they see a man\u2019s prick. I overtook them in the church-yard (they were resting again on the barrow-handles), and entered into conversation with them, delighted at their demure faces, knowing that they had just seen a prick, that one had said \u201cfuck\u201d, and that I had seen both piss. A notion of getting the younger one by herself restrained me from blurting out what was in my mind, but my delight really was in looking at, and talking with them, thinking that fucking might and probably was in their mind at the moment I accosted them.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">They were coarse, middle-sized, well-fed, sturdy-limbed, dark-eyed wenches, unmistakably sisters. Excepting for one being shorter than the other you would scarcely have known there was a difference in their ages; both had bare arms, one had her frock well pinned up behind over her petticoats, both had short petticoats, thick ankles and strong boots, a washer-woman was then not ashamed of showing what she was, and they always wore dazzling white stockings, \u2014and these girls did. I asked where they lived, they answered readily. I knew the lane well, all the washer-women in the village were there.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">In my lewdness I forgot everything but the pleasure of speaking to the girls. A middle-aged lady passed us accompanied by two or three very young women, who stared hard at me. The barrow-girls stood up and curtsied as they passed, and naming them. I knew them, and a few years before had romped and played with the young ladies, then children. The last time I had seen them there was not a hair on any one of their cunts; I expect that now their cunts were full-wigged, and well frigged into the bargain. They had recognised me, as I heard from my mother afterwards, I did not recognise them, they having grown from children to women. I was seated on the barrow-handle as they passed.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cSo you wash?\u201d \u201cNo, their mother did, they ironed, took home, and fetched the things. What was their name? \u2014 would they meet me? and so on. They would perhaps, \u2014 where did I live ? \u2014 they did not know me. Getting friendlier and friendlier I learned all about them, it was done in a&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">joking, chaffing way. I told them I lived far off, and was only on a visit at a house dose by.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 498\" style=\"color: rgb(82, 13, 13); font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">They must go on really, \u2014 would I get up? No, unless they gave me a kiss. I chivied one after the other, and caught and kissed both, they were not difficult to catch. Then they trundled on the barrow, I walking with them, the people we met (very few) staring at a dandy walking by the side of two washer girls; but I took no heed then of any one who passed us, nor cared.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">We crossed the high-road into another part of the lane, and again we stopped; more and more randy got I. \u201cWhat do you thing of, when you iron the tail of a man\u2019s shirt?\u201d \u201cNothing.\u201d \u201cYou know it wraps round something different from that which a chemise does.\u201d \u201cDoes it?\u201d said the little one who had twice the cheek of the elder. \u201cYes, \u2014 it makes you think when you iron them.\u201d No it did not, \u2014 what did I mean? \u2014 they did not know in the least.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">(What delight some girls have in their randiness in declaring they don\u2019t understand a man\u2019s baudy chaff, the \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t understand\u201d are only incitements to the man to declare his meaning in broad, strong, baudy words; and then it\u2019s, \u201cOh ! oh ! the beast!\u201d but their cunts tighten with a squeeze of lust, they go off and think of it all, and perhaps frig themselves under the recollection. But this is a reflection the result of matured experience, and was not written at the time this part of my narrative was.)<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">They turned up the high-road, and at their earnest request I fell behind, they left the linen at a house, and brought back other baskets, then I recommenced chaffing. When we were in the lane bounded on one side by a wall, on the other by a ditch and corn-field. They stopped and begged me to go, for so many people knew them on the road. Prudence told me we had better separate, but my mind full of the idea of getting the younger girl, I asked them to have a drink. \u201cNo, \u2014they would be seen. Would they meet me? Yes. When? They could not say, \u2014 but I had their address.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">I am not clear why, but up till then I had not said what I had heard and seen, but I kept it to myself, although dying to let it out. I again sat at the edge of the barrow, and refused to get up till they both kissed me. They&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit;\">could not go without the barrow, and after a little sham I kissed them both. Then the devil took all control off of me, and as I kissed one I felt outside her till she wriggled away from me. This in the open lane.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 499\" style=\"color: rgb(82, 13, 13); font-family: Georgia, sans-serif; text-align: center;\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cNow\u201d, said she, \u201cMr. Impudence, I\u2019ve a good mind to slap your head for doing of that.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m sure you liked it\u201d, \u2014 and I went towards her. She ran ahead, and took up a stone. \u201cI\u2019ll heave this at you\u201d, said she looking as if she meant it. I desisted, and went back to the barrow, \u201cWhat\u2019s he done?\u201d said the sister who had been standing a little distance off. \u201cI\u2019ll tell you bye and bye, \u2014 come on. The younger began to handle the barrow, but I sat down on a handle, some one came along. \u201cYou will do us harm\u201d, said one of the girls.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cTell your sister what I did.\u201d \u201cShan\u2019t, \u2014 get up.\u201d I then, forgetful of my intention, blurted all out, imitating their voice and manner. \u201cFuck, hish ! some one will hear\u201d, \u2014 a slap. \u201cFuck, \u2014 there then.\u201d<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">The younger stood like a statue, her mouth opened wide, her lower jaw almost seemed dropping off; the elder stared at me, her eyes nearly out of her head. \u201cSarah says the bigger it is the better she likes it.\u201d Their faces got blood-red, they stared at each other, then one said, \u201cI wish you\u2019d get up, and let me have my barrow.\u201d<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cI saw you both piddle\u201d, then I looked up and down the lane in both directions, I was bursting. \u201cLook\u201d, said I pulling out my prick, \u201cit\u2019s as thick and stiff as his, isn\u2019t it?\u201d No one was in sight still.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">\u201cI wish there was a policeman\u201d, said the elder, \u201coh! you beast,\u2013we\u2019ll tell the police.\u201d One appeared just then in the lane, but the girls appeared to be in no hurry to tell him, but I rose, they wheeled off the barrow as fast as they could, I walking with them. I was a little afraid of the policeman.<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 16px;\">We had got to a spot where the lane was crossed by a village road in which were many good houses. \u201cOh ! pray leave us, we go down here, we have customers in the road.\u201d \u201cWill you meet me?\u201d \u201cYes, \u2014 but don\u2019t follow us.\u201d I did not want to be seen, so we parted, after some arrangements about meeting.<\/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 8 Washerwomen. \u2022 Matilda and Esther. \u2022 A peep over a wall. \u2022 Eaves dropping. \u2022 A girl\u2019s wants. \u2022 Shaking a tooleywag. \u2022 A promenade by a barrow. \u2022 Disclosures. \u2022 A snatch and a scuffle. \u2022 An assignation. I went to see my mother one day in Summer, and after &hellip;<\/p>\n<p class=\"read-more\"> <a class=\"\" href=\"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1360\"> <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Volume Three Chapter Eight<\/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-1360","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1360"}],"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=1360"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1360\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2139,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1360\/revisions\/2139"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1360"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}