My Secret Life (57 page)

Two or three weeks after I had used this peep hole, Sarah said she had again met the man with the titanic prick. — We had by that time got so intimate, that she told me any funny adventures she had with men. — He had behaved in just the same manner to her, and was to meet her that day week. — “Oh! I long to see him with you — bring him to the next room,” — and it was so arranged. — The spying room was to be kept for me — the back room I was to pay a pound for, and it was to be kept for Sarah. The old baud knew what we were up to. — I told Sarah to keep the man as long as she could, whether he paid much or little (he gave her treble what I did), and above all to manage so that I could see his prick well.

The evening came, I was there before the time, and thought that they were never coming. — At length I saw them enter — I had been in a fever lest it should not come off. — The whole evening’s spectacle is photographed on my brain. — I recollect almost every word that was said. — What I did not hear, Sarah told me afterwards, tho that was but little.

“Take off your things,” said he. — Sarah undressed to her chemise. — His back was towards me, his hand was evidently on his prick. — “Ain’t you going to take your clothes off, you had better — you can do it nicer.” — He evidently had not intended that, but yielded to her suggestion. — When in his shirt he went up to her, she gradually turned round so that
her
back and
his
face were towards me, and her movement was so natural that no one could have guessed her object, altho I did. — Moving then slightly on one side, she put her hands to his shirt, lifted the tail, and out stood the largest prick I ever saw. “Oh what a giant you’ve got,” said she. — He laughed loudly. — “Is it not, did you ever see a bigger?” “No, but your balls are not so big.” “No, but they are
big.”
“No,” she said. “You can’t see them,” — and he put one leg on a chair, — Sarah stooped and looked under them. — Whilst doing so, he tried to give her a whack on her head with his prick — and laughed loudly at his own fun. — “Why,” said Sarah, “if your balls were equal in size to your prick, you wouldn’t be able to get them into your trowsers.” — He laughed loudly, saying, “They’re big enough — there is plenty of spunk in them.”

Sarah went on admiring it, smoothing it with her hand, pulling up and down the foreskin and keeping it just so that I had a full view. “You are hairy,” said she, rubbing his thigh. — Then I noticed he was hairy on his legs, which was very ugly. — “Yes, do you like hairy-skinned men?” “I hate a man smooth like a woman — take off your shirt and let me see.” “It’s cold.” “Come close to the fire then.” — She talked quite loudly purposely, tho it was scarcely needed. His voice was a clear and powerful one. — Without seeming anxious about it, but flattering him, she managed to get his shirt off and he stood naked. — He was a tall man, very well-built, and hairy generally. Masses hung from his breasts, it darkened his arms. It peeped out like beards from his armpits, it spread from his balls half way up his belly, he had a dark beard, and thick black hair. — In brief he was a big, powerful, hairy, ugly fellow, but evidently very proud of his prick, and all belonging to him. Her flattering remarks evidently pleased him highly, and he turned round as she wished him, to let her see him well all over. — His prick which had been stiff had fallen down, for instead of thinking of the woman, he was now thinking of himself; but it was when hanging, I should say, six inches long, and thick in proportion. “Dam it, it’s cold, we are not so accustomed to strip like you women.” — Then he put his shirt on and began business.

He made her strip and told her to go to the bedside. She went to the end and leaned over it with backside towards him. — He tucked his shirt well up, came behind her, and with his prick which had now stiffened and seemed nine inches long (I really think longer), hit her over her buttocks as if with a stick. It made a spanking noise as it came against her flesh. Then he shoved it between her thighs, brought it out again, and went on thwacking her buttocks with it. — “Don’t it hurt you?” she asked him turning her head round towards the peep hole. — “Look here,” said he. Going to a round small mahogany table and taking the cloth off it — he thwacked, and banged his prick on it, and a sound came as if the table had been hit with a stick. — “It does not hurt me,” he said. — I never was so astonished in my life.

“I mean to fuck you,” said he. “That you shan’t, you will hurt any woman.” — Again he roared with laughter. — “Suck it.” “I shan’t.” — Again he laughed. — Then he made her lean on a chair, and again banged his prick against her arse. — Then he sat down, and pulled her on to him, so that his prick came up between her thighs just in front of her quim. — “I wish there was a big looking-glass,” said he. “Why did you come here, there was one at the other house.” — Sarah said this was nicer and cleaner, and he had said he wanted a quiet house. — “Ah, but I shan’t come here again, I don’t like the house.”

“Get on to the chairs — the same as before.” But the chairs in the room were very slight, and Sarah was frightened of them slipping away from under her. — So she placed one chair against the end of the bed, and steadied it; and against another which she put a slight distance off, she pushed the large table. Then mounting on the chairs, she squatted with one foot on each as if pissing. I could not very well see her cunt for her backside was towards me, and shadowed it.

He laid down with his head between the chairs, and just under her cunt. He had taken the bolster and pillows from the bed for his head, and there he laid looking up at her gaping slit, gently frigging his prick all the time. At length he raised himself on one hand, and licked away at her cunt for several minutes, his big prick throbbing, and knocking up against his belly whilst he did it.

Said he again, “I wish there was a glass.” Sarah got down, and put on the floor the small glass of the dressing table, and arranged it so that he could see a little of himself as he lay. — But he was not satisfied. — He recommenced cuntlicking, and self-frigging, and all was quiet for a minute. — Then he actually roared out, — “Oh — my spunk coming, my spunk, — my spunk, — spunk — oho. — Come down — come over me.” — Off got Sarah, pushed away the chairs, and stood over him with legs distended, her arse towards me so that I lost sight of his face, but could see his legs, belly, and cock as he lay on the floor. — “Stoop, — lower, — lower.” — She half squatted, he frigged away, her cunt was now within about six inches of his prick, when frigging hard and shouting out quite loudly — “Hou — Hou — Hou,” his sperm shot out right on to her cunt or thereabouts, and he went on frigging till his prick lessening, he let it go, and flop over his balls.

Sarah washed her cunt and thighs, and turning round before doing so, stood facing me and pointed to her cunt. His spunk lay thick on the black hair tho I could barely see it. — She smiled and turned away. He lay still on the floor with eyes closed for full five minutes, as if asleep. Sarah washed, put on her chemise and sat down by the fire, her back towards me partly.

He came to himself, got up and went to the fire — then he washed (his back towards me), then stood by the fire, then fetched the pot and pissed. I saw his great flabby tool in his hand, and the stream sparkling out of it, for it was done just under the gas light. — Again he stood by the fire, his tool hidden by his shirt which he had on, and they talked. — Then he strode round the room and looked at the prints on the wall, looked even at the very picture beneath which I was peeping. — “What a daub,” he remarked and passed on (it was a miserable portrait of a man), then from the pocket of his trowsers he gave Sarah several sovereigns.

That lady knew her game, and had thrown up her chemise so as to warm her thighs — and after he had paid her, he put his hand on to them. — She at the same time put her hand on to his tool. “Oh what a big one.” — nothing evidently pleased him so much as talking about the size. — “Did you ever see so big an one,” said he for the sixth time I think. “Never — let’s look at it well. — Hold up your shirt.” — He did as told. — Sarah pulled his prick up, then let it fall, handled his balls, pulled the foreskin up and down, and shewed him off again for my advantage. — “Why don’t you sit down, are you in a hurry?” Down he sat, his tool was becoming thicker and longer under her clever handling, and hung down over the edge of the chair. He was sitting directly under the gas light, and I could see plainly, for Sarah cunningly had even stirred the fire into a blaze. He was curious about other men’s cocks — what their length and thickness was. — She shewed him by measuring on his own, and kept pulling it about, her object being to get it stiff again for me to see his performances. — My delight was extreme — I could scarcely believe that I was actually seeing what I did, and began to wish to feel his prick myself. How large it must feel in the hand I thought, how small mine is compared with it, and I felt my own. — As Sarah pulled down his prepuce, I involuntarily did so to mine, and began to wish she were feeling mine instead of the man’s.

Then only I noticed how white his prick was. His flesh was brownish — and being so sprinkled with hair it made it look dark generally. — His prick looked quite white by contrast. Sarah must have been inspired that night, for no woman could have better used her opportunity for giving me pleasure and instruction. Repeating her wonder at the size, she said, “Let’s see how it looks when you kneel.” — He actually knelt as she desired. I saw his prick hanging down between his legs. Soon after in another attitude, I noticed that hair crept up between his bum cheeks, and came almost into tufts on to the cheeks themselves. — I saw that his prick was now swelling. — Sarah taking hold of it, “Why it’s stiff again.” He grasped it in the way I had first seen him, and said eagerly. — “Let’s see your cunt again.”

Sarah half slewed her chair round towards him, opened both legs wide, and put up one of her feet against the mantelpiece, as I have often seen her do when with me. He knelt down and I lost sight of his head between her legs — but saw his hand gently frigging himself as before, and heard soon a splashy, sloppy, slobbery sort of suck, as his tongue rubbed on her cunt now wetted by his saliva. Then he got up and pushed his prick against her face. — “Suck, and I will give you another sovereign.” “It will choke me — I won’t,” said Sarah.

Then he began to rub her legs and said he liked silk stockings, that few wore silk excepting French women whom he did not like, — but “they all suck my prick.” — Again Sarah put up her leg — again he licked her cunt, and then said she must frig him, which she agreed to on his paying another sovereign.

He told her to go to the edge of the bed and he then went to the side nearest the door, which put his back towards me. — He called her there. — “Come here,” said Sarah, laying herself down at the foot. “No, here.” “I won’t, it’s cold close to the door” (she knew that there I could not see his cock). He obeyed, put up her legs (just as I used to do) opened them wide, and I could sideways see her black haired quim gaping. “Close them,” he cried. She did and lay on her back, her knees and heels close together up to her bum, “I’ll spend over your silk stockings,” said he, now frigging violently. Sarah to save her stockings, just as his spunk spurted, opened her legs wide and it went over her cunt and belly. — He never seemed to notice it.

I had passed an intensely exciting couple of hours by myself, watching this man with his huge fucking machine. Sarah in her attitudes, altho I had seen them fifty times, looked more inviting than ever. My prick had been standing on and off for an hour. — I would have fucked anything in the shape of cunt if it had been in hand, and nearly groaned for want of one. As I saw her legs open to receive his squirt, heard his shout of pleasure, and saw his violent, frig, frig, frig, I could restrain myself no longer, but giving my cock a few rubs, spent against the partition, keeping my eye at the peephole all the while.

He wiped his cock on her cunt hair, washed, and went away seemingly in a hurry. — Sarah came in to me. — “Don’t you want me,” said she. — I pointed to my spunk on the partition. “You naughty boy, I want it awfully.” — Soon after I was fucking her. — With all her care to save her silk stockings, sperm had hit her calf, and while I fucked her at the bed side, I made her hold up her leg that I might look at it. — It excited me awfully. What a strange thing lust is.

I never saw the man afterwards. — She did, but he would never go to that house again. — She thought that he lived in the country. He seemed a gentleman.

One night a couple went in. It was a thin woman about fifty years old I should say, and a youth of about sixteen. — He looked like a Jew. She asked him, directly he was in, for the money; he gave her five shillings, put down his hat, and went up to her. — She had never moved from the door side of the room, and stood with her back to the bed, her face towards us. He seemed shy. She said, “Let me feel your cock.” His back was to me, but I could soon see she had hold of his doodle. He was quite quiet, and when he spoke, he did so in a low tone of voice so that I could scarcely hear him. — Her voice on the contrary was that of a magpie, the clack of an old woman. — “Feel my cunny my dear,” said she, “it’s such a nice hairy cunny.” — He put his hand up her clothes and wanted to look. — “Oh, no, you want to know too much, I can’t shew it — it’s made to feel, not to show, but feel it, it’s nice and hairy.” — “Oh what a nice cock it is — how it longs to go up my little cunny — how stiff it is — oh what a nice cock,” and she stooped and looked at it — I could not see it. — “Oh no I can’t let you see it — another time,” she said, in reply to something he said. — “Oh put it in, put it in, it’s longing to go up my cunny.” — Leaning back against the bed, she hitched up her clothes, and I saw a pair of dirty spindle shanks nearly to her thighs. — She never left go of his cock, but pulled him towards her by it. — “Oh it’s up my cunny, how often do you fuck, — Oh it is up my little hairy cunny my dear, is it not nice? — Oh fuck it, fuck, fuck, fuck, — Oh isn’t nice?” — He had clasped her somehow and was shoving rapidly, and spent almost before he began, for I heard a deep sigh from him and he was quiet; whilst she kept on cackling, “Oh is it not a nice little cunny.”