My Secret Life (30 page)

“Do you like reading?” “Yes.” “Pictures?” “Yes.” “I’ve a curious book here.” “What is it?” I took the book out,
The Adventures of Fanny Hill.
“Who was she?” “A gay lady, — it tells how she was seduced, how she had lots of lovers, was caught in bed with men, — would you like to read it?” “I should.” “We will read it together, — but look at the pictures,” — this the fourth or fifth time in my life I have tried this manoeuvre with women.

I opened the book at a picture of a plump, leering, lecherous-looking woman squatting, and pissing on the floor, and holding a dark-red, black-haired, thick-lipped cunt open with her fingers. All sorts of little baudy sketches were round the margin of the picture. The early editions of
Fanny Hill
had that frontispiece.

She was flabbergasted, silent. Then she burst out laughing, stopped and said, “What a nasty book, — such books ought to be burnt.” “I like them, they’re so funny.” I turned over a page. “Look, here she is with a boy who sold her watercresses, is not his prick a big one?” She looked on silently, I heard her breathing hard. I turned over picture after picture. Suddenly she knocked the book out of my hand to the other side of the room. “I won’t see such things,” said she. “Won’t you look at it by yourself?” “If you leave it here I’ll burn it.” “No you won’t, you’ll take it to bed with you.” There I left the book lying, it was open and the frontispiece showing. “Look at her legs,” said I, for we could see the picture as we sat on the sofa; and I began to kiss and tickle her again.

She shrieked, laughed, got away, and rushed to the door. I brought her back, desisted from tickling and lewed talking, though I was getting randier than ever. “Now have the garters, — let me put one round the leg, just to see how it looks, — just half-way up the calf.” After much persuasion, after pulling up my trowsers, and showing how a garter looked round my calf, she partly consented. “Promise me you won’t tickle me.” I promised everything.

I dropped on one knee, she sat on the sofa. “Put one foot on my leg.” She put one foot there, and carefully raised her clothes an inch or two about the boot-top. “A little higher.” She raised it holding her petticoats tight round the leg, and I slipped the garter round it. “It’s too loose, raise a little more.” “I won’t any higher,
—
I can see how it looks.” “Won’t they look nice when they are above the knee! and won’t your young man be pleased when he sees them there.” “My young man won’t see them any more than you will.” “Let me slip on the other.” The same process, the same care on her part. She bestowed all her care on the limb I was gartering, lest I should slip the garter higher up. The remainder of her clothes were loose round her other leg. Then I pushed my hand up her clothes and herself back on the sofa, relinquishing the leg I was gartering.

Rapidly my hand felt thighs, hair, cunt. How wet! What is this which catches my fingers? — what is it they are gliding between? With a yell she pushed me away, and got up as I withdrew my fingers. She had a napkin on, my fingers were stained red. “Oh you beast,” said she bursting into tears. I caught hold of her, and began to tickle her; she pushed me violently away, and escaping, rushed downstairs, slammed the kitchen-door in my face, and locked herself in. I have been accustomed to this behaviour on similar occasions.

I stood outside begging pardon, talking baudiness, I tried to burst open the door, and could not. I was not fond of poorliness in women, had a keen nose, and oftentimes could smell a woman if poorly, even with her clothes down; how it was I did not smell
her,
considering how near my nose had been to her split and her breasts, I can’t say, but suppose randiness overcame my other senses. I played with my prick which was in an inflammatory state, feeling it made me much randier, I called through the door how I wanted to fuck her, how my prick was bursting, how I would frig myself if she did not let me. “What a hard-hearted girl, — I’ll give you ten pounds to let me, — who will know it, but you and me?” and a lot more; but it was of no use, and at length I went upstairs, determining to wait, and thinking that in time she might follow me.

On the sofa I sat thinking of what I had done. There lay one garter, I took it up, and rolled it round my pego, I rubbed the tip with it, thinking it might be a spell. I took up
Fanny Hill,
got more excited by reading the book, looking at its salacious pictures, and feeling my prick at the same time. Then the sense of pleasure got beyond control, and laying down the book on the floor just beneath me, where I could see a baudy picture, I turned on my side on the sofa, and frigged till a shower of spunk shot out.

Then down I went. The door was still locked, my senses were calmed, but I talked baudy, and offered her money without a reply; growing tired I bawled out, “I’m going, — you will let me in a day or two, and get the ten pounds towards the new shop, — you won’t be so unkind when I come again.” “I’ll take good care never to let you in,” said she. They were the only words I could get out of her. I went upstairs, took a slip of paper, and wrote on it, “I have wrapped the garter round my prick, it is a charm. Directly you put it on I shall know, for my prick will stiffen, — you will put it on I am sure; and directly my prick stiffens, your cunt will long to have it up it, even if I am miles away. You will put the garter on, for you can’t help doing so, — I’m sure to fuck you, neither you nor I could avoid it if we would. Why should we deny ourselves the pleasure, — no one will know it, and you will be ten pounds the richer.” I wrote that or something nearly like it, and charmed with my own wit, rubbed the garter over the top of my prick till I left the smell on it, then laid it on the table over the paper I had written, and went away, taking
Fanny Hill
with me.

It is a positive fact, that about two hours afterwards I had a violent randy throbbing in my prick, and found out later on that just at that very time she had put that garter on.

[And now for the complete understanding of what follows, it must be stated that the house was in plan nearly like that which I inhabited when I had my beautiful servant Mary. Kitchens in the basement, two parlours with folding doors between them, nearly always open; and rooms back and front over the parlours; and that my absent friend did with those rooms whilst absent at the seaside, what was not unusual with people of their class in those days, lock most of them up, leaving only sufficient for the servant, or caretaker, to inhabit.]

“Fanny Hill” sent to Jenny — My next visit. — Thunder, lightning, sherry, and lust. — A chase round a table. — The money takes. — Tickling and micturating.
—
A search for “Fanny Hill. ” — A chase up the stairs. — In the bed-room. — Thunder, funk, and lewedness. — Intimidation and coaxing. — Over and under. — A rapid spender. — Virginity doubtful. — Fears, tears, and fucking.

 

I waited for a few days to ensure her poorliness being over. I had not left her
Fanny Hill,
but why I cannot tell, for I knew how baudy books excited a woman. The night before my next attack I wrapped up the book, directed it to her, gave a boy sixpence to deliver it, hid myself by a lilac which was in the front-garden close to the road, and saw the boy give it to her, and go off quickly as I had told him. It was just dusk, and too dark inside the passage of the house to see; for Jenny stepped outside the house so as to get light, and stripped off the envelope. I saw also that she opened the book, closed it, looked rapidly on both sides, then stepped inside, and closed the door. I expect that her cunt got hot enough that night. I saw her sister who slept with her nightly, going through the front-garden soon afterwards, and Jenny open the door for her. I had then moved off to a safe distance, the other side of the road.

Jenny was fond of finery, and I had heard the old lady of the house declaiming about it. Her pleasure at the showy neckerchief and garters was great, so I bought a pretty brooch, and filling my purse with sovereigns determined to have her at any cost, for my letch for her had got violent. The next day I had a good luncheon, went to the house just after her dinner-time, and took with me a bottle of sherry. I recollect the morning well. It was a sultry day, reeking with moisture; it had been thundering, the clouds were dark and threatening, the air charged with electricity. Such a day makes all creation randy, and you may see every monkey at the Zoological Gardens frigging or fucking. I was resolute with lustful heat, the girl was, I expected, under the same influence, and taking her as I did after a lazy meal, everything was propitious to me. How shall I get it? — if I knock she may not open; and if she sees me go up the front-garden she won’t open. But I had to try, so walked up to the door, and gave one single loud tradesman’s knock.

There was a little porch and a shelter over the street-door. Standing flat up against the door, so that I might be hidden from her sight if peeping, I heard an upper window open. She looked out, but where I was she could not see me. There was delay, so again I knocked, and soon the door began to open, I pushed it and stepped in. The front-shutters on the ground-floor to my wonder were closed.

“Hoh! sir, — you,” said Jenny amazed, “what do you want?” I pushed the door to, and caught hold of her. “I’ve come to have a chat and a kiss.” She struggled, but I got her tight, and kissed as a randy man then kisses a woman, it is a magnetizing thing. “Oh! there it is again,” she cried as a loud thunder-clap was heard, “oh! let me go, — oh! it do frighten me so.” “Where are you going?” “Oh! into the parlour, — I’ve closed the shutters.” The girl was in a panic, and did not know what she said. The parlour-door was open, the room nearly dark, which suited me. She went just in, and then turned round to go out, but I pulled her to the sofa. A flash of lightning showed even in the darkened room, the girl cowered and hid her face with her hands. I took her round the waist. “Shut your eyes, and lean your head against me.” Mechanically she did, she was utterly unnerved. I felt down with my right hand the form of her thighs and haunches through her clothes. My prick began to stand. Pulling it out, and taking her near hand I put it round my prick just as the thunder roared. She kept her hand unconsciously on it for a time, then with a start took it away and jumped up. “Oh! it’s wicked,” said she, “when God Almighty is so angry,” — and just as she got to the door a terrific flash made her turn round again. I caught her, and sitting down on a chair pulled her on to my knee; she hid at once her face on my shoulder in terror.

Coaxing and soothing, and exciting her, in her fear she listened, at times twitching and oh-ing. I was sorry I had touched her cunt the other day I said. “Oh! now don’t.” “Feel my prick again, — do dear.” “Let me go, — you’ve no business here.” Another flash came, I put my hand up her clothes, the tip of my fingers just touched her quim. She struggled and got away, and in doing so upset the chair which fell down and broke. “Oh! now what will my missus say!” said she. Then a screech, and she got to the other side of the table.

This went on a little longer, a gleam of sunshine came through the shutters. Then she opened one shutter, and said if I did not go she would open the window and call out. The light showed my pego, stiff, red-tipped and ready. “Look what your feeling has done for this Jenny,” said I shaking my tooleywag at her.

But her resoluteness daunted me, so I promised not to do so again. “Here is some sherry that I was taking home to taste, — let’s have a glass, — it will do both of us good after this thunder, — you look white, and as if you wanted a glass.” I had got out of her on a previous day that she liked sherry. “I’ll go and get you a glass,” said she. “No you shan’t, — you will lock the door,” said I, — I knew that was in her mind. No she would not. “We will go together then.”

We did, and returning to the parlour under my most solemn promise of good behaviour, down she sat, and we began drinking sherry. One glass, — two, then another she swallowed. “No I dare not, it will get into my head, — no more.” “Nonsense,” — after your fright it will do you good.” “Well half a glass.” “Isn’t it nice Jenny?” “It is.” “Does not your sweetheart give it you?” “At Christmas, but only one glass.” The sherry began to work. “Only another half-glass,” — and I poured it out nearly full. Soon after I got up after filling my own, and standing before her again filled up hers which she had sipped without her seeing me. ”Finish your glass dear.” “No I can’t, — it’s making me so hot.” “Just another half-glass.” “I won’t.” But she began to chatter and told me again all about her young man, of their intending to open a grocer’s shop when they had two hundred pounds; that he had saved a certain sum, and when he had a little more his father was to put fifty pounds to it. She also had put money in the savings bank. I got closer to her, and asked for a kiss. ”Well I’ll kiss you if you promise not to be rude again.” A kiss and a promise. She was one of the simplest and most open girls I have ever met with, and once a half-feeling of remorse came over me about my intentions, whilst she was talking on quite innocently about her future but my randy prick soon stopped that.

“What nonsense dear, your young man won’t know that I have felt your thighs, and you my thing, nor any one else what we do, — I have thought of nothing else since I touched you, — kiss; — now let me do it again, — just feel it, — only where my hand’s been before, — I swear I won’t put my hand up higher, just above your garters, — have you got those garters on?” “No.” “Oh! you have.” “Well I have.” “Let me just see.” “I shan’t.” “I’ll give you a sovereign to let me.” “Shan’t.” I pulled out the sovereign, put it on the table, and spite of her resistance pulled up her clothes just high enough to see one garter; then clutching her round the waist I pushed my hands up, and touched a well-developed clitoris. She struggled, but I kept my hand there, kissed her rapturously, and frigged her; her cap fell off in her struggle. “Oh! I — can’t — bear — it — now — sir; — I — don’t — oh! — like it, — oh!” Then with a violent effort she got my hand away, but I held her fast to me.