My Secret Life (43 page)

But often times something comes of this cunt basting — not quite unknown, but mostly unthought of during the hot fit of lust and pleasure, and certainly unhoped for excepting by married women. Something which, had it been thought of whilst with clasped haunches, wriggling buttocks, prick thrusts, heaving bellies, sighs and murmurs, the couple were insensible to all but pleasure, their souls steeped in Elysium, — would certainly have made the lady at least a little anxious. That second or two’s mixed spending, and spunk sucking up of the womb, sometimes causes the lady to be in the family way, and that day nine months, after much fainting, sickness, longing for all that is out of season and out of reason, with a swollen turgid belly — much spewing, five minute pissings, farting, shitting, and the whites: — an infant comes down that cunt, — the result of such fucking, and this is how it comes about.

High up in the belly of the woman and in recesses just outside the womb, are little organs or parts of her body, containing what are called ova — and which common people call eggs — it is a sort of enclosure in which a woman breeds eggs within herself, out of herself, and parcel of her nature. Leading from this egg nest, is a little tube connecting with the womb, and at monthly periods, an egg is squeezed out of it into the womb through this passage, and it only wants to be touched by the man’s spunk — when man and woman are both discharging in their spasm of pleasure, and lo! — the thing is done. That which had no life, lives, — the egg is vivified, the woman is impregnated, is with child. Then it will grow bigger and bigger in her, and her belly will swell, until in the nine months, out comes a child through her cunt.

And this is the exact process and time when the egg has life given to it. — As far as is known, the thing takes place at the moment when both man and woman are in the greatest state of voluptuous enjoyment, and at the crisis and termination of the fucking. If the man alone spends in the woman’s cunt, it will not do it. — If the woman spends alone, it will not do it. — If they spend some time after each other, it may or may not do it. — But as the fuck goes on, and their mutual pleasure increases — just at the moment that the woman’s cunt tightens, just as the man shoves short or merely wriggles his prick as far up the cunt as he can — the egg either being there ready, or being then squeezed out of the bag into the womb — the woman’s juices exude from her into her cunt. — The man’s spunk squirts, — the womb sucks in the male and female mixture, — the egg is touched, and life begotten. Thus in the delirious ecstasy of the fuck, the job is done.

Such is a prick — such a cunt — such fucking — such the consequence. — The fucking organs excepting to chose who have them, would not perhaps be thought handsome. — No one thinks a dog’s prick handsome, or a cow’s cunt beautiful, — yet they are not unlike those of the human species. — No one who sees a dog fucking a bitch, thinks that their action is elegant, or their faces edifying, yet their movements are much like those of the human species. — The wriggling of the lady’s buttocks when a prick is moving up her, and the up and down movements of the man’s haunches, and the saucers he makes in his arse cheeks are not elegant, — their slabbered privates when they have finished not nice, — their faces during the operation not expressing intellect. In fact the motion is somewhat monotonous, is inelegant, almost ridiculous, and the end, sloppy and odorous; yet they both think the operation most beautiful.

And if a woman in stature, form, colour, skin, and in beauty of mouth, teeth, nose, and eye, were perfect; if her limbs were perfection, her breasts ivory — her breath sweet as a honey suckle, her voice tender, her temper perfect, and if in brief she comprised all that we call perfection in a woman; — yet were she without that hairy mouthed, slippery, half slimy, salt, and odorous cunt, a man would sooner sleep with his grandmother or lie down with a cow than with her.

And if a man be tall as a guardsman, formed like Apollo, be strong as Hercules, and a grand model of strength, beauty, and all that is attractive in man — if he even be gentle and kind to a woman — and yet had not that bit of distensible gristle, with its pendant balls, or if having it, it would not stiffen and swell at times so as to enter, fill, and plug up the cunt entirely, and shed into the innermost recesses and end of the cunt — that thickish, semi-opaque, gruelly essence of man’s blood — she would not care a far for him, and would sooner sleep with a male monkey.

This is a description of the organs employed, and the object, art, and manner of using them, which is called fucking — together with its results. It is written in this simple, homely, yet classical manner; so as to enable the dullest, simplest, and most unsophisticated to understand it. It is specially suitable for ignorant boys and girls from twelve to fifteen years of age, — at which period they begin to think of such matters, and when they may study it with most advantage, because and at that age the world tries its best to obscure the consideration, and to hinder all real knowledge about it getting to them. It may be read usefully after evening family prayers also, by older members of the family, to whom at times, it may serve as an aphrodisiac, and it will spare many young, but full grown people, trouble and loss of time in searching for knowledge which ought to be known to all, but which owing to a false morality, is a subject put aside as improper.

[At the time I wrote this, I had but little of the anatomical knowledge of the sexes which I now possess, and vulva — vagina — clitoris — and other terms or their exact signification were only partially known to me.]

Thoughts about myself, my skin and rick.
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At a Swiss village.
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At L
^***
s.
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An useful keyhole.
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A middle aged couple.
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An American family.
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Eighteen and naked.
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Forty in chemise.
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Family jars.
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The sponging bath.
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Aunt and niece.
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At the museum.
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The mutilated statue.
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Is it male or female? — Are Americans hairy?
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The aunt’s bed room.
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Coy but willing.
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Amy undressing.
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A voluptuous night.
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Fat, fair, and forty.
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A mature cunt.
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Wise precautions.
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To Paris.
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To England.
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My abstinence from women.

 

About this time I began to think more of my self than I had done — which seems a strange thing to me. I had to a large extent, though not quite, got over that mistaken notion about the size of my prick, — so many women having asserted it was a handsome sized one. And several gay ladies having shown affectionate attentions to me, from that I inferred they would not have done so had that supreme article of feminine worship been inferior. I might also say the same of a few ladies who were not gay, but whose cunts know pretty well the difference between a prick and a cucumber. For all that, I have been for a short time and more than once, temporarily impotent thro a nervous fit on this point.

I have within the last few years heard much admiration expressed of my face and figure. — I heard this both directly and indirectly, from chaste, as well as unchaste ladies. — “He might with his face and shape have married so and so, and she was dying for him, but he never knew it,” — was said of me. Another had praised my face, form, and my demeanour, — Camille told me that her maid always spoke of me as “your handsome friend, madame,” when she forgot the name I went by. I had, I know, a skin which for colour and smoothness, was like a woman’s — dozens of women had smoothed, stroked, and admired it to my face. — One said it made her spend, directly she rubbed her hand over my back when I was fucking her. Another used to kiss me all over and ask me to turn on to my belly, so that she might kiss my backside, which was equally smooth.

For all that I had but little conceit of myself and fancied I was too thin. — Another stupid fancy, for I never was what could be called thin, tho I was lithe. — When I heard that any woman had mentioned me in a flattering manner, I used to wonder if it were true. Then I had a desire more and more frequently come over me, to see other pricks, and satisfy myself by comparison, whether mine was a full sized one or not, and I wondered if they fucked after my fashion or how, and if they spent as much — and how they looked when spending — much curiosity about males in coition seems to have laid hold of me, and I don’t see anything wrong in satisfying that curiosity.

Sick of London, I left in July with a friend, and spent much time in the Swiss mountains. He was married but very fast, and we went to baudy houses together. Geneva, Berne, Lucerne and Zurich saw our pricks. We found it economical, for the regulation price was but about five francs a lady, and also safe (A clap when one is traveling is the worst of ailments.) — for they had just about that time put the Paphians under medical supervision at least in some of the Cantons. — Then he left me, and for some time I remained in the mountains alone.

This tour I became more and more curious about the doings of those in the adjoining bedrooms. I used spy holes whenever I found them, opened others which had been stopped up, and at last even ventured to make some of my own. — But in three rooms out of six, these little peep holes had been made. If I found the bedroom assigned to me had no communication with adjoining rooms, I changed it on some pretext, and again if not then satisfied. I found that second class hotels gave me greater opportunities for satisfying my curiosity, they being mostly frequented by foreigners, who have not the absurd finical notions about nudity and the necessities of nature, which my own countrymen have; but whom I incline to think are on the average as moral as we are for all that.

To use the opportunities advantageously took time and trouble. I had to ascertain what time my neighbours got up or went to bed, or used their rooms. Many a time I have jumped out of bed to peep and saw nothing. At other times when I intended to rise by daylight, and watch (for I was ready for any amount of trouble to see a woman naked, and would have sat up all night to do so), I overslept myself, and lost my chance. — Yet nothing discouraged me, and I saw a lot of women in different degrees of nudity, saw them piddle, wash their quims, and undress, yet the great bulk tho highly pleasing to me, are not worth writing about.

Travelling for the most part quite alone this time favoured me. — When with a friend, we too often had rooms next each other. — This time I often had strangers on each side of me, and tho that meant noise and disturbance, I preferred it.

The oddest thing, as it seemed to me, was that sometimes with holes in doors as big as small peas, the occupants rarely seemed to notice them. — The middle aged sometimes used, but young women rarely. — They were mostly tired or excited, or in a hurry to dress or undress, or to get to food, or move off, or do something, and seemed to notice nothing in-the room. — When they had time they almost invariably looked out of the window. This journey was nearly all during warm, light weather.

At the town of L
^***
s in France I had a large room. There were but few travellers. I found not only the entire key-hole of the door dividing mine from the next bed room was free from obstruction, but peep holes were in plenty. — In the morning, awakening, I heard the voices of a male and female, instantly jumped out of bed, and saw a middle aged couple dressing. They were having an altercation, and washing, I think, side by side at the same wash stand, which I could not see. Suddenly the lady stripped off her chemise, put a basin on the floor, and soaped and washed her cunt, talking to the man all the time. She was five and forty quite, had a bum as big as a tub, huge thighs, and lightish brown hair in great quantity, on a cunt which as she squatted, looked enormous. The sausage lips opened till they must have been three inches apart. Great nymphae hung down inside them, and then the red gap looked altogether like a cut in a big bit of meat. — Instantly, — so quickly do comparisons make themselves, I thought of the cunt of my aunt, seen at Hampton Court when I was a boy.

At the same moment appeared by her side a man about fifty-five years old, stout, naked, with a very big prick covered with soapsuds, and there they wrangled close together, she lathering and rubbing her cunt, he his prick. Her cunt got so white and held so much soap, and there was so much hair, that it looked like masses of wool hanging between her thighs. For a minute still squatting, she left off rubbing it, and he holding his big prick in one fist, ceased lathering it whilst they talked. — Then she slopped her cunt and took away the basin. — He went out of sight, and both in half a minute came into sight again with towels, rubbing their privates vigorously, and continued their quarrel. I laughed heartily, but did not care about seeing any more. They were I found from their intonation, Americans. The sight was a comic one.

They must have changed their room or else have left the hotel, for after a midday table d’hôte, it being scorchingly hot, I went to my room for a siesta and was just dozing off, when I heard a young female laugh, and my eye was at the keyhole in a second. I saw a nice girl seemingly about eighteen years of age, naked all but shoes and stockings, laughing loudly with another big fine woman seemingly about thirty-five, who was divesting herself of clothes, but only stripped to her chemise. All the outer blinds were closed to exclude heat, yet such was the brilliancy of the day, that it was quite light in the rooms. They sat down at a table and began to work. The naked one remarked that they had better see to their things than go to sleep. “It gets pretty well as hot as it is down south,” said she. — Every now and then she went to a trunk which was out of my sight, and brought back clothes, so I had good views of her body on all sides, and this went on for an hour.