VOLUME 8 CHAPTER 14

Females ready, and male opportunities. • Another adultery. • On the highway. • Costermongers and hucksters. • Mrs. * * * met. • Suggestive talk in a quiet street. • The servant sent out. • Myself let in. • On the sofa. • Up the lady. • On the bed. • A flaccid doodle. • A gamahuche. • Penis redivivus. • Alarmed • At a house soon after. • Fears • tears • feeling • fucking • frigging • and gamahuching. • The lady’s history. • A middle- aged husband. • Face, form, and cunt. • My liking for gamahuching. • Sequel.

[A year or two before this time as already said, I began again to avail myself of opportunities with women who were not gay, but I had many hinderances in these amatory chases. — The chances were many as I saw with clearer eyes than ever, but circumstances, often the risk, prevented my following them up. Most men I expect get such opportunities, for there are plenty of cunts hungry and athirst for a male; yet men for want of time or money let them slip, or else having one female ready at all times to receive their sperm reservoirs, are content with that.]

One Saturday night about seven o’clock in early winter of this year, walking through a main thorough-fare leading to the outskirts of London, I had a chance of a woman not gay, and acted upon my intention of not throwing away one whilst my virility remained in force.

It was a wide road with a good through traffic, yet near to a poor neighbourhood on either side of it, and where by ancient custom on Saturday nights, the carriageways next to the kerb stones are filled with costermongers’ barrows, hucksters’ stalls, and purveyors of goods of all sorts for the poor. — The footways were crowded with purchasers, and were bright with gas at the shops, and petroleum lamps of the huksters. The shouting of the sellers, the tramp of feet, and the roll of vehicles made almost a deafening noise. — Amused I watched the crowd, and whilst doing so met a fairly well dressed woman, seemingly about twenty-five years old, tallish and stout, and looking in her winter’s garb well off, who slowly moving along, seemed to be also watching the busy multitude of poor people.

At a glance I saw she was handsome, had nice soft eyes, dark brown hair, and a sweet, small, red-lipped mouth. She caught my eye and from her look I saw that I pleased her. She stopped to look at a stall, so did I, and standing by the side of her a voluptuous thrill starting either from my brain or ballocks, ran through me. Was she gay, or modest, or game, and what chance had I, flashed through my mind.

I moved close to her till my arm touched her, as one may do in a crowd. As she walked away she looked me full in the face, and stopped soon at another stall where they sold toy windmills — I did the same. –“They are very pretty,” said I. “Yes,” she replied, looking at me. “I’ll buy one for your children.” “I haven’t any,” and she laughed. Then almost trembling as I said it, but my prick was rousing my sexual impudence, “Did you ever try to get any?” “What’s that to you,” said she, and giving me an astonished stare yet laughing, she walked off. Thought I, that’s the manner of a hot cunted one, and I have set her thinking about fucking.

I followed close to her, politely forcing my conversation on her but not on that topic. She willingly entered into it, altho at first quite silent, then looking me full in the face. — But ever and anon she looked round restlessly, anxiously, and on the opposite of the way as well. I began again talking about children. — It was well to avoid having them I remarked “I dare say you have a lot,” said she “I know how to get, and how to prevent getting them.” She laughed. — We were by that time nearly at the end of the thronged part of the road, and where it was darker I told her how beautiful she was, and asked if I might see her home. “See me home? Oh! no thank you, good night,” and she turned down a side street abruptly.

There was something in her manner, which made me fancy that at that moment lust was stinging her cunt, so I followed. “Meet me another night, tell me your name and address.” — She hesitated. “Give me a kiss before we part.” “What next, sir, you, a perfect stranger, I’m surprized at your impudence.” Then she said she was married. — “Ah what a lucky man, what would I not give to be married to you, try another husband for a little time.” — Now I had my rutting impudence on and a stiffening prick. She dawdled now, and I guessed by that, that my talk pleased her.

The streets were here narrower, with small but six-roomed houses in them, not well lighted, no shops, scarcely any traffic. I got to lewed hints which without coarse language were yet unmistakable. She laughed suppressing it, and then, “What would your wife say if she heard you?” “What would your husband say if he knew we were talking about fuck — getting children,” — stopping short at the word fuck purposely, as if it had escaped me accidentally. — “You’re not a gentleman, good night,” and she walked on rapidly.

So did I, feeling now reckless, begged her pardon, said that her beauty had made me so long for her directly I had spoken to her, that I could think of nothing else. “Now don’t follow me I’m just home, and mustn’t be seen talking to a man, my neighbours may see me,” and she stopped full under a gas lamp, staring at me full eyes. “My God how handsome you are, do meet me tomorrow, your husband needn’t know.” “He’s abroad,” said she, “but I dare not — pray leave me.” “I will if you’ll kiss me.” “I won’t sir.” — She walked on, stopped between the lamps where it was darker, and directly a pedestrian had passed us I gave her a kiss spite of her sham resistance. — “Oh let me have you, or my prick will burst.” — Thinking I should not succeed, I resolved that I might as well indulge in lewed utterances as not. I could but lose a chance, and there is always pleasure in saying words of love or lust to a strange woman. — “Oh! you’re disgraceful,” said she, in a low tone of voice.

How I wish I could experience a female’s cuntal and mental sensations, as desire for a male enters her brain and body. I know that one of the results is a moistening, for I have felt many a cunt when desire was coming on. — Mrs. ***’s cunt I expect was in that state now, for she walked on very slowly, again asked if I was married, then if I lived about there, and at last after a long and seemingly thoughtful silence, “If you come in will you promise never to call again,” said she, in an agitated manner. — I promised everything. —”We live over there, wait here, when you see a servant come out, watch till she’s turned the corner, then come, I’ll leave the door open, but I’m only going to chat with you mind. — No nonsense mind. If the servant doesn’t come out, you must go.” Her manner was nervous, agitated, hurried; before she had been quite composed.

I thought she was going to bilk me, having been hum-bugged thus before by more than one, and asked her name which she refused. Saying again that I was dying for her — she crossed the road, entered the house and the door closed. Five minutes passed which seemed to me a quarter of an hour, for I was in a fever of impatience, wild with lust, thinking of my chance of her hidden charms, then that she now was fooling me, and whilst deliberating whether I should risk knocking at her door, it opened, a servant appeared, turned the corner of the street, and in a minute I was in the house with the lady.

She had her bonnet and cloak off, and was a stout comely woman, at a guess twenty-eight years of age. “You mustn’t stop long,” said she, “my servant’s only gone on an errand,” — and she sat down on a sofa. The room was comfortable, of the sort which bespoke an income of a few hundreds a year, not a bit of the flash arrangement of a gay woman’s rooms. “What did you want to come in here for,” said she with that humbugging sham which a woman can put on, as if she didn’t know what I had come for, and what she had let me in for. — She must have known.

No time was to be lost, so I plugged at once. “My love, to fuck you,” and in a second had my hand between the lips of her nick. “Oh don’t,” she cried loudly, closing a pair of fat thighs on my hand, but not tightly, “you shan’t do that.” — But my fingers next moment were rubbing her clitoris, now feeling the mouth of the avenue, in another she had hold of my prick in her little hand, and still saying, “Oh don’t, you shan’t,” our lips joined, silently we were handling each other’s fucking apparatus, till her thighs moved restlessly, and my prick was at furnace heat. Then gently I pushed her back on the sofa, and in a not very comfortable position, my prick was shedding its pearly libation into her spending cunt. Ah! what Elysium to grasp the unknown smooth buttocks to plunge my burning pego up to its balls in the cunt of an untasted beauty, to hear her gentle sighs and murmurs, as the hot spunk throbs out into her hot thirsty vagina; and then to settle down tranquilly with prick in the viscosity of our spendings, thinking of what we had done together and what we had done it with, till the shrinking implement of my pleasure comes out of hers, that cunt so tight, but now loose and surrendering some of its libation, as the delicious conjunction of our bodies is broken. — Such was my pleasure with charming Mrs. * * * three nights ago.

Sofas in small houses now are not like those of thirty years ago, on which I have stroked many a woman. — As my prick left her cunt I arose, and she rushed rapidly upstairs. In two minutes she returned. “You’ve washed that lovely cunt.” — She laughed. “Let me see it.” “Oh no.” — How often I have heard that said, but it availed not the speaker.

She sat on the sofa. “I will see it,” said I. — She refused. Then kneeling suddenly, I pushed up her petticoats, and buried my mouth between her closed thighs, kissing them upwards till my nose met the crisp hair of a fat soft motte, whilst my hands mounted to her plump buttocks. Then without resistance I pulled her to the sofa’s edge. All felt to lips and nose so fresh, so dainty, so moist from the washing, and smelt so sweet whilst my mouth was there, so did the aroma of her healthy cunt rouse me, that distending her thighs, my lips met the clitoris. Out then went my tongue, gliding rapidly to and fro over the slippery gristly projection. “Oh you dirty man,” she cried. All women not strumpets say that at the first gamahuche. But she surrendered herself to the luscious exercise, and her voluptuous sensations. I licked, till feeling a gentle quivering of her thighs and backside, I ceased, not wishing to make her spend. With my prick still hanging out I sat down beside her, and guided her hand to it, still sticky as it was with our spendings. She handled it looking at me with humid lustful eyes. — “Let me wash it,” said I, wanting to get her to her bedroom.

“I’m so frightened of my servant coming back.” “Send her out again if she does.” — We went to her bedroom, on the floor was the basin in which she’d rinsed my libation out of her cunt. It was a comfort-able room with a large bed, the gaslight burning. I cleared off the evidences of our pleasure from prick and balls, and said we’d do it on the bed. “Oh no — if my servant sees the bed rumpled.” “Don’t let her — I will see your lovely thighs and cunt,” so saying I got my hand between her thighs, again standing up as we both were, and she let my fingers take their former place without hindrance.

Mistress M* ** was hot cunted and no mistake, I saw it in her great luminous moist eyes, which looked at me in loving manner. I can tell that expression in them still more clearly, now that I write this. The voluptuous expression struck me strongly. — Pressed by me she mounted the bed, saying that I really must not stay long, but when side by side feeling each other’s genitals, I found I was not ready for the encounter, having only discharged my semen a few minutes before. This unnerved me for a minute, for her cunt was ready, and she eager for fucking as it seemed to me.

Spending time in praising her beauty, kissing and feeling her cunt, I thought of gamahuching her, tho my letch for that had subsided. So kneeling between her thighs, kissed her motte, and settling my tongue on her little clitoris, began the lingual amorous game, getting my hands under her backside, to lift it up and facilitate it. — “Oh — don’t you dirty man,” she jerked out, but her cunt in its delight silenced her. The lady liked the lick, her thighs widened out, her cunt rose up involuntarily, nature was on my side, restless her thighs got, her belly and bum gave little jerks, then her cunt pressed up to meet my mouth. — “Ahar — rr — oho —aharr — har —,” a tight grasp of the hair of my head, then quietness of thighs and belly, and a salt flush over my tongue, told me she had spent.

Flushed with this victory, inflamed by taste, smell, and feel of her fat full lipped cunt, proudly my prick rose up to duty, and scarcely was her body tranquil after her spend, than dropping on to her belly, my prick was buried up to its root in her, glorying in its power, enjoying the moist soft pressure, but not impatient for exercise it lay enjoying the carnal tingle awhile, and in quiet concupiscence we talked, in the short sentences which alone I can then utter. “Your cunt’s lovely, did you like my licking it? Do you feel my stiff prick in your cunt? — how stiff it is. — It will spend in it soon.” “Oh — oh — oh,” she murmured at each lewed phrase. But whilst still dallying with my prick, it was getting less in her. “Oh! if my servant should come home.”

— A sense of this possibility urged me, and thrusting hard, banging my prick tip against her womb, dashing my balls against her buttocks, till responsive her belly heaved up to mine, her thighs clipped mine, and heaving and sighing, “Aha — aha — ahar — ar —ar,” whilst I sobbed out my fucking slogan, “fuck — spunk— prick cunt — c — hunt,” I filled her split again with sperm.

She rose hurriedly, excitedly, saying I must go, I really must. “For God’s sake don’t get me into trouble. I’m married — Really I am — he’s abroad. — Well my name’s *** — you’d find it out by asking, but for God’s sake never come here again. — If you’re a gentleman you won’t, will you? I will meet you on Thursday next if you’ll only go now — go at once. — Do — pray now.” — All said so anxiously that I hastily went. She almost pushed me to the door, looked out, saw no servant, and away I went, thinking all the evening I’d been in luck, and that it was one of the quickest bits of fucking I’d ever got with a modest woman in all my life.

Next day I felt proud, yet vexed with adultery, believing her to be really married. It seems my fortune for married women to fall into my arse, tho I object to it and always did. Yet I wrote with feigned hand and false name, time and place for the meeting on Thursmuch visited by me, by which I had not entered for not come. I had paid for a room at a house formerly day, and went there thinking and half hoping she would some years.

She met me and soon we were in s snug bedroom. — There she lifted her veil and was crying. She had not spoken in the street. “I’ve come, but I won’t let you do anything.” “Nonsense, why did you come?” “To beg you never to go near my house again, I’ve been so frightened ever since. How I came to let you in I don’t know. — I’m sure I shall be found out,” — and much more was said of the same sort, with much excitement and with tears. At first I was upset, but recovering, argued with her, said that I’d never go near her house, that this should be our last meeting, but now we would do it, no one could possibly know. She refused, I tried to get my hand up her clothes, but she resisted strongly. — “Only to feel it, let me, that’s not fucking.” But she wouldn’t. Then standing up, I pulled out my ruby tipped pego, stiff as a horn, bursting with desire, and poked it towards her face as she sat. “Let me, let me, dear, only once, let me rub it and only spend between your thighs, I won’t put it in your cunt — feel it, and let me only feel that lovely cunt I’ve fucked — frig me then.” — Thus I went on, raising baudy imagery in her mind, kissing her, endearing her, stimulating her senses, sitting by her side, trying every now and then to feel her quim, but without success.

I had brought no wine with me as I usually do on such occasions, but sent for sherry, the finest they could get and not to mind the price. It came, Mrs. M* * * took two glasses of it, her tears had dried, her fears subsided as we talked. She told me that her husband was managing clerk to a merchant, and had gone abroad to their agency; she’d never been left alone before. He was fifty-five, she twenty-six, her relatives thought it a good match so she married him, tho he was so old. He was a good man. “He fucks you,” said I. “He does what husbands do,” she replied, “how I came to let you in I don’t know, I’ve been in fear ever since. — You’ll never come near me again will you?” If she said this once she did a dozen times till I was sick of hearing it, and at length not getting a feel of her quim, said, — “Why did you come here if you didn’t mean to let me do it?”

An hour had gone in begging, and attempting, and at last I felt her cunt. Then she took her bonnet off, then took another glass of wine. — Then I frigged her a bit, then she handled my tool which settled her; her lust was roused, her cunt craving, sensations of voluptuous delight were coursing thro her body and brain, and she mounted the bed. — Up I threw her petticoats, a lovely pair of white thighs parted, my belly met her, prick and cunt joined, and my libation mingled with her liquids in transports of pleasure.

Never did woman enjoy a fuck more, but her anxiety about getting with child was great. She uncunted me soon. “Oh get off — pray do,” and rushed to wash. — She’d never been with child. “But I might — mightn’t I?” I couldn’t say no when I thought of the many who have ascribed paternity to me; in some cases truly enough. Heavily I have had to pay for that cunt splashing with my sperm, but it was worth paying for. The heaven of life is found between a woman’s thighs, women have all the after trouble, we none, and we ought to pay for all the trouble we give, all we beget.

She’d done the deed of darkness with me again, and like all the others under similar circumstances, was ready to let me do it more. For a minute only had I seen her thighs and motte, and now insisted on seeing all in every way. I risked the sheets, induced her to come to bed, and, in chemise and shirt only we laid side by side, limbs interlacing, hands groping and feeling, cock and cunt waiting their next introduction to each other. We talked of fucking, and nothing but fucking and sexual pleasure. Never she declared had she been gamahuched before, knew of it, her sister’s husband had done it to her sister, her own husband never to her. He was a widower when she married him, a staid man, very fond of her, fucked her once a week, if twice it was on Sundays after church. — I have an in-tense curiosity about the ways of men with their wives, and never failed to ask about them of the frisky matrons whom I have fucked. — Most of them avoid the subject, this beauty didn’t.

She was a fine, soft hazel eyed woman, full, fleshy, and inclining to stoutness, with full breasts, but short ones which didn’t hang, with large thighs and buttocks, and thick not very symmetrical calves. — Her belly was large and ample, her cunt had roly-poly lips, yet not the pouters of a skinny woman. The furrow between them was deep, and with a well defined crimson line down half way from a fullish clitoris, and there the red was lost. The nymphae were small and pretty — if there be such a thing as pretty nymphae. — Dark brown hair, darker than that on her head covered a very full fat motte, it was a handful, a veritable pin- cushion. The hair grew less and less and ceased altogether on the lips towards the lower or buttocks end of her cunt, and not a vestige of hair was on her buttocks near her bum hole, for curious, I pulled the cheeks apart to see, which elicited, “What are you doing?” It was in brief a fat, full, well developed cunt, largish in appearance. I praised it and said I’d seen a thousand. — “Oh! what a wicked story,” said she.

Then, for I was not ready, and somehow gamahuching a nice woman who is not a strumpet pleases me at times much more than formerly — I gave her a spend by the sole aid of my tongue. — Then I fucked her again. Then in bed we both slept a while, then she had fears and cried a bit. Then after repose, I frigged her as still she lay in bed with me. There is something so exciting to my senses in a nice woman who is a stranger to me, that I essayed my powers again. A long job it was, tho for five days I had kept myself chaste. My cock had had enough at the third, my balls kept back their balsam, and I nearly at one period of the exercise thought of admitting myself a failure. However I succeeded and gave her a fourth fucking, tho the lady I think wetted my cunt rammer more than the rammer wetted her cunt. — But the lady was contented.

Talking with her after I’d frigged her, she said her husband had never done that to her. — “Lor — he’s quite a quiet man, but he’s very good to me.” Then I heard that he’d settled a little money on her when they married, to provide for her in case of his early death. “Oh! I’m in such fear of its being found out. — What made me talk to you and let you, I don’t know.” “You’d not been fucked for a month and wanted it badly.” “Oh no, that it wasn’t.” — She waited with me till quite dark, frightened of being seen going out of an “improper house” as she called it. When she left we had been there some hours, had drunk nearly two bottles of wine, and eaten nothing. I was quite fucked out and tired, not being quite so young now, and she seemed the same.

Of course I never called at the house again, nor did I desire her, tho the temporary connection had been most pleasant. But I drove past the house a couple of years after and out of curiosity enquired at a baker’s close by, if any one of the name lived there. I found that they did. But altho that set my cock stiffening a bit, I should have been a blackguard had I sought her, and had no desire to figure in a divorce case.

This was a nice little variety in my amours. How it came about even now astonishes me a little, much as I know of the unexpected consequences of mutual lust on a man and woman thrown together by accident. It must have been that a month’s abstinence had left her so full, that meeting me just when a wave of lust heated her cunt, she gave way to opportunity and my incitements. Perhaps curiosity played its part, and she longed to see what another man’s prick could do. I hope she hasn’t tried a third, for that might bring her to grief. But a second prick they say makes always a woman long for a third. A well known baud once said that to me as her experience.