Camille. • Gabrielle and a female. • Temporary impotence. • After supper. • Minetting. • Gamahuching. • Flat-fucking. • Screwed and lewed. • Libidinous posing. • A triad of debauchees. • Next day recollections. • At Naples. • An agent for pederasts. • Reflexions about sodomy. • At Milan. • At a bagnio. • Cheap women. • In a diligence. • Mother and child. • At G**n*b*e. • The chambermaid’s mistake. • Noisy incitements. • Through a door. • Invitation and surprize. • A warm room. • Warm suggestions. • Warm actions. • A hot pudendum. • A scorching hot penis. • A burning conjunction. • A moist conclusion. • A good night’s work. • A hairy bum furrow.

When I came to London, Camille received my attentions but I was not constant to her, for a change of women was necessary to me. Gabrielle I had lost sight of, for she had changed her lodgings, till one afternoon going up an obscure street near Regent Street, I heard called out, “Monsieur, Gabrielle.” Looking up I saw it was she. Upstairs I went, and very soon was up her. I saw her several times afterwards, and one evening had a desire to see two women naked together, — it was years since I had done so. Gabrielle got me another woman as tall as herself, and with a cunt of similar hairiness and look. I sent for champagne, we all stripped naked, the two women sat on my knees, then laid on the bed side by side, and then knelt on it with rumps outwards, whilst I investigated their genitals; but my prick would not stand, and though I tried to fuck the stranger who used every blandishment, I could not do it.

I have before, and since, at times been unable to poke one woman when another was present, — why I cannot understand. Neither can I account for passing by dozens of nice women without putting my tongue to their cunts, and then frantically gamahuching one, without perhaps any greater charms, although for the moment she may have appeared to me to have possessed them. I have as already said, poked women in the presence of others, though but rarely.

Gabrielle found out my weakness, went out of the room, and soon after I was in coition with the other French lady. We went on champagning when Gabrielle returned. Having put chemise and shirt on, and made up the fire (for it was cold), in an hour or so Gabrielle said it was her turn to be fucked, and began, unasked, her favourite move of stiffening me by a delicate application of her tongue to the naked tip of my penis, and very shortly my lust was rampant again. Then began one of my unpremeditated orgies.

Our talk had been of the loosest; all three had been smoking, sitting round the fire, the women with chemises above their knees, letting the warmth of the fire reach their cunts. At times I looked up between their thighs and amused myself libidinously with them. Time went on and I did not fuck. Gabrielle asked me to give them supper, and consenting, they sent out for ham and French sausages, which they devoured, — I made them sit quite naked to do so. Again we smoked, had more champagne, and our talk was of the lewedest. I felt Gabrielle’s cunt. “Let me feel it too,” said the other woman suiting the action to the word, and feeling Gabrielle. Then both women kneeling down, one licked my prick- stem, one my balls, till I nearly spent, but re-strained myself.

Voluptuous excitement then filled my mind with libidinous fancies. “Gamahuche, Gabrielle,” I said. She scarcely needed a second request; both women laughed, moved on to the bed, and the stranger, kneeling between Gabrielle’s legs, gamahuched her, whilst I looked at her fully- developed, thickly-haired cunt from behind, as her big rump was raised up by her kneeling with her head low. Gabrielle had two pleasures, or else shammed them, but I think not, for I can now pretty well tell between the real and the sham in baudy exercises. After that, again we all smoked, and drank champagne sitting round the fire, and then Gabrielle gamahuched the other woman.

My lewed imagination worked still, and made other suggestions. I said, “Flat-fuck her, faites la tribade.” The two were now pretty screwed, and up to anything, and I now believe amused each other this way when by themselves, though I did not then even fully realise that tribadism was more than a sham.

On the bed got the two tall French women, naked, boots and stockings excepted. Gabrielle mounted the other, who passed her thighs high up over Gabrielle’s haunches, and they joined their cunts. I felt the mass of hair made by the two cunts close together. They kissed each other, then they rubbed cunts together, till they moaned with pleasure; and then laid silent. Then as they laid flat and tranquil in each other’s arms, I got between Gabrielle’s thighs, put a hand round between the two bellies, and it lay embedded in the hair of their cunts. I somehow inserted my prick in her cunt, whether much or little up it I can’t say, — and spent my seed up her in a shove or two. Then as my prick came out, Gabrielle, with a cry of pleasure, rub-bed her cunt lubricated with my sperm against the cunt of her friend, and they rubbed, and wriggled, and screeched, and spent in voluptuous frenzy.

I was going away after that, but looking out found it still pouring with rain, as it had been all the evening; so I stopped, — it was passed midnight. We had more wine, and my brain was whirling with lust. I made Gabrielle and her friend piss over my hand, I held their cunts
open, and the pot under each whilst the other held the candle, whenever either of them wanted to empty her bladder (and the champagne ran through them freely), so that I could see the function performed. Then Gabrielle laid down again, I knelt over her and she sucked my prick, whilst her friend again gamahuched her. My antipathy to minette was overcome, a desire to finish my prickwork in its lodging came over me. “I shall spend, — I’m coming,” I cried. Gabrielle sucked my prick harder and I spent in her mouth, and bent over her, until her own pleasure came on as her friend rapidly licked her cunt. She spent almost simultaneously with me. Then we got up, rested, and recommenced. At last having fucked both women again, all on the bed now together. At four o’clock in the morning I found my way home exhausted, and two-thirds drunk.

It was a long time since I had had any debauch. Women, and lots of them, were my delight, but I took them one at a time. With a strong constitution, I could copulate without fatigue once or twice daily, could do so without excitements, without stimulants of any sort, excepting the glorious contemplation and amusements that the beautiful woman for the time could give me. I disliked the idea of minette, yet now I had consummated in the lady’s mouth, and actually enjoyed it; had set women flat-fucking, and enjoyed seeing that. Did they do it properly? — did they enjoy each other? — were they only shamming? I sat reflecting on all this with an aching head the next morning, and wondering how many times I had spent. I certainly fucked each woman twice or more, and spent in Gabrielle’s mouth — and that was all I knew.

Next evening I went to Gabrielle’s. Both women had got drunk she said, and slept together. “Did they flat-fuck afterwards, — did they really enjoy that” “Mais certainement oui,” it was “une fantaisie,” and they did it till they could do it no longer — “Mon Dieu,” till her friend fell asleep on the top of her. She was “une femme charmante, et cochonne.” They both had head-aches, had enjoyed themselves — look at the bottles. The bed was unmade, the room still in disorder. Should she fetch her friend again? — she had only just left her. “Mon Dieu” she did not recollect how often I had spent — seven times she thought. I fucked her, left, and did not see her again for months, but frequented Camille, who with her soft, almost feline ways and delicious manner in copulation, charmed me much.

To get away from home, I went abroad again early in December to Naples with a friend, and had women there of course. One evening coming out of my hotel, an elderly man exceedingly well dressed, accosted me in Italian. He was so gentlemanly in appearance and manners, that I stood and listened to him, at first not being able to make out what he said. It was that he had some charming ladies he could introduce me to — not common women, not whores. I listened, for it was the first time I had been solicited by a man on such matters, though I had made many a valet-de-place pimp, and go to brothels with me. They were charming he said in a quiet voice, and one a delicious young lady only fifteen years old. I told him no.

“Ah! the Signor would perhaps like a fine young man.” I did not quite understand him at first, not understanding Italian well, and repeated after him interrogatively the word “young.” He misunderstood me. Ah! yes, if I preferred young, he had two lovely boys, quite young, one thirteen, one fourteen years old, without any hair on them — they were most delicate. Finding I had to make him repeat, because I did not understand him and that I answered in French, he addressed me quite fluently in that language, and told it all over again. Yes, only thirteen and fourteen years, — no hair on them, but though so young they both could spend. I declined, he took off his hat with a gloved hand, “Buona sera, Signor,” — he was often on the Chaia, if I changed my mind, and I several times saw him there accosting men just at dusk.

This set me thinking very much, and on reflection, though amusing one’s self that way seemed to me most objectionable, yet if men liked it, it was their affair alone. A man had as much right to use his anus as he liked, as a man has to use his penis — that was the conclusion I came to. But it set me wondering if many men took their pleasure up other’s backsides. Was it more pleasure than fucking women? — did the buggeree have pleasure like the buggerer? — and so on, till I thought over all I had seen, heard, and done with my own sex from boyhood to the present time. My curiosity on the matter was aroused, and the curiosity has become stronger since.

I was extremely unhappy whilst away from England, felt as if banished, yet hated to go back, and was so depressed that I never had fewer women. I seemed to care nothing about them or indeed anything else, till parting with my friend, I went to Milan. There I found that at the very best house where they kept women, the price was only something less than four shillings for a woman, and fresh handsome women they were. A sexual rousing took place in me, but it was not the result of the cheapness of cunt, it was the niceness of the women, and out of eight women in the house I fucked seven. Then to Turin I went, and sledged over Mount Cenis, and afterwards by diligence much of the way, and the rest by rail, reached Paris with a few adventures, and the first, strange to say, again with (I believe) a married woman.

I travelled in the coupé of a diligence with a tall, dark-eyed, handsome lady, looking thirty, and a boy about five years old, her child. She was well, even ex-pensively dressed, but most quietly (quite the style then when ladies dressed for travel, with its roughness, and not as tho for show). Eight hours were we together. It was very cold, and I longed to get near her for the warmth which a nice woman gives a man; but the child sat in the middle. Of course we talked during the whole journey. She was going to the same town as I was, but I found not to the same hotel. She had been there before, and pronounced the F**c*n Hotel excellent, so I altered my mind, and went to it at the town of G**n*b*e.

It was a big old-fashioned hotel (the railway had then not quite reached the town, and none of the hotel-servants could speak anything but French and Italian (commonly the case in those days). We went up speedily with others to get bed-rooms (no telegraph then), a chambermaid showed them to us together, evidently thinking us married. I selected one. The lady looked at the one next. “The little boy will sleep with me,” said she, “I must have a large bed, — this bed won’t do.” “Lucky boy,” said I. She fixed her eyes on me, and coloured. “Boys recollect what they see when very young, I know that, I do,” I went on to say, and laughed. “Do they?” — and she laughed too. “This room then?” said the maid. It had a large bed, but I had selected that. “There is a little room leading out of this (the smaller room) which will do for the little boy,” said the maid, showing it. The lady took the two rooms, the chambermaid then unlocked the door between my room and the lady’s. “Shall I bring your supper here, or will you go downstairs?” said she to us. The lady laughed, and (in French of course), “No, no, — the gentleman is not with me.” “Mais pardon, Ma-dame,” said the chambermaid much confused, and shooting a bolt on Madame’s side of the door, she went into my room and locked the door on my side, leaving there the key. I was standing in the corridor. Then my prick began suddenly to swell with a voluptuous sensation, the idea of being alone in the bed-room with the lady caused it.

The lady was a well-informed woman, and spoke French and Italian well. We had crossed the frontier in the diligence, and I heard her speak both languages; but though with her for hours, not a word, not a sign of voluptuousness had passed between us, and I had never thought of love till that moment.

Now lust seized me. “She means us to visit each other presently,” said I. The lady laughed. “A pretty visit for me, that would be.” “A bachelor on the visit to a widow.” “But I’m not a widow.” “You’ve been a long time without a husband you told me.” “And truly enough,” said she with a sigh.

We went into our rooms, washed, and soon after she went downstairs. Seeing no one, I went into her room, unbolted the door, and went then downstairs. The table d’hote was over, we each ordered dinner, and at the waiter’s suggestion agreed to dine together, she paying her share. “Do you like champagne?” I asked. “Yes, but I can’t afford it, so don’t order any for me,” said she quite anxiously. “We are in old France again, and champagne I must have,” and I ordered some, begged she would favour me by taking a glass, and we soon got through one bottle, and began another. The little boy who had a small quantity, fell asleep, the mother said she must put him to bed. “Good night, sir,” said she. “I’ll say good night to you upstairs, for I shall go to bed too.” She looked hard at me.

It was a very cold night, the corridors of the hotel were silent. Almost directly after she left I went up to my room. We could hear every movement in each other’s room; it was always so in old-fashioned hotels in those days. I listened, — a door closed. “You’re nice and warm, — good night dear, — go to sleep, — I’m close to you.” The next instant the rattle of a long strong piddle reached my ear. I laughed loudly and intentionally, and said through the door, “Good night.” “Good night,” she replied in such a tone, that I felt sure she was trying to stifle her laughter.

In conversation, I had discovered that she had travelled much in Europe, and tried to draw her out about herself, but found it useless, — she was close as an oyster. She tried the same with me I noticed, with what success I cannot say. Who is she? — what is she? — her husband has been long away she says, — she looks quiet but invitingly, — she advised this hotel, — she laughed in a lady-like manner at little boys recollecting things, — does she want poking? — shall I try it on? — so ran my thoughts rapidly.

With lewed intent, but nervous about my intentions, I still listened and heard movements as of a woman undressing. Then I half-undressed myself, brought the pot nearest to the door, and pissed, making it rattle as much as I could to excite her. Anything which brings man and woman to think of the genitals of the opposite sex has a stirring lewed effect! Then I knocked gently, and called, using the name (Mrs. M***l**d) she had entered in the hotel-book. “What do you want?” said she coming to the door. “To talk to you, — I feel so dull.” “And I’m so cold, — good night.” “Haven’t you a fire?” “There is no stove.” “There is one in my room, — and it’s quite warm, — come in and chat, — you are not going away tomorrow?” A long pause. “No thank you.”

Rustling movements again, and a cough. I hesitated, for she had given me no encouragement. My prick got voluptuous, it had not entered a woman for a week or more. I put wood on the fire, summoned courage, and knocked again. “Come and have a chat.” “No thank you, I’ve my gown off.” How rapid is human thought. I saw in my mind’s eye her half- naked breasts and arms, and my prick rose stiff. Has she bolted the door, or found out that it is unbolted? I turned the key, then the handle, and the door opened! “Oh! who’s that?” said she running to the door. “Oh! you really must not — the maid ought to have locked it.” Her voice had dropped, and we stood looking at each other, when she found it was I who had entered.

“Don’t be frightened, — it’s too early to go to bed, — come and chat, — your room is like an ice-well, mine like an oven. Leave the door open, it will warm your room.” “I don’t mind the cold.” You complained of it.” “I shall be warm in bed.” “You’ll be warmer in mine, there is room for two.” “Oh! don’t talk such nonsense.” “It’s not nonsense, — we are alone, — come.” “No.” “Come and have a glass of champagne (the bottle scarcely commenced was in my room), — you’ll sleep better.” No she’d had more than enough; but she hesitated, and stood still looking at me. “Fetch me a glass” “Come in, — it’s warm, and your boy won’t hear us talk.” “Poor little fellow, he is so tired,” said she standing still, “and it’s really freezing here,” (throwing a shawl over her shoulders). “Come, it’s warm in my room.” A little more persuasion and she came, sat with me before the fire, and had champagne. The door was left open, so that the heat might penetrate her chamber. No one was in the bed-room next to mine, — I had ascertained that.

We talked cosily, then warmly. Gradually I felt her arms. How plump she was, — she did not look so plump in her gown. Really, — didn’t she? Then with coquetry and pleased vanity, she showed her arm nearly to her shoulder. I kissed it. “What sweet, smooth flesh you have.” “Now don’t,

— you must not.” I had lifted the shawl, and she tightened it. “Oh! do let me see your bust again, — it’s beautiful, — I saw it when I opened the door.” With a twitch I pulled off the shawl, clutched her, and kissed her shoulder, but little of her breasts were visible. She would go if I went on so, and put the shawl back. I made her pull off her stockings, — her feet would get so warm. She turned her back to me, and did, — and nice white little feet she showed.

But one of my nervous timid fits was on me, and I could not make the attack boldly that I wanted to make. She was a lady, evidently married, and I didn’t then see that whether conscious of it or not, or whether she intended it or not, that she really was ready for fucking, — she really was ready for fucking, — she could not help being so. I hesitated, and went on talking quietly and respectfully. When did she see her husband last? “Oh! some time ago.” When expect to see him? She didn’t know, — she expected a letter there from him. I had all this in the diligence; and got bolder. “You’re longing for him to be in bed with you, aren’t you?” “No,

— but it’s quite natural if I did,” — and she laughed, and looked at me. In half fear I kissed her. “You mustn’t really,” but now I had struck the lewed gamut, and ran rapidly up it after my usual fashion. “Let us sleep together.” “Oh! no, — I ought not to have come in here.” “Do.” “I dare not.” She half rose to go, but I kept her down on the chair. “Don’t go, — it’s quite early, — your room will get warm soon,” and I threw more logs on the fire.

“What pretty white feet — you’ve a lovely leg I am sure. — Do let me.” And gently I put my hand high up on her calf, I did it so respectfully, but she stopped me. “Oh, let us sleep together,” I burst out. “It’s impossible.” I coaxed and carried: “Do, look what a state you’ve put me in,” and in rutting excitement, out I pulled my prick in its randy rigidity. She looked. “Don’t do that now or I’ll go, you don’t know what risk I should run.” Again I prevented her rising. Our seats were close together. “Well let me feel your leg. Let me feel your flesh – only to your thigh there, just there.” Her resistance was that of an infant, and my fingers reached her cunt. “Feel me love, feel my prick, let us, kiss me.” I could not place her hand on my prick, for with one of mine I was holding her waist, the other was on her cunt. “Feel me do, let us. Let us fuck. Kiss me.” “Oh – aba – I dare not.” We ceased talking, but our lips kept on kissing. She laid hold of my prick. I alternately groped up her cunt, or frigged the clitoris; and so in silence for a minute or so I suppose. But how count time in such delicious enjoyment tho certainly she had been in my room an hour and a half before we reached this stage.

She got restless under my fingering. – “Let us,” “Oho – no – oh – I daren’t,” but she kept on kissing. Her fatigue, the companionship in the strange hotel, the warmth of the fire, the champagne, our kisses, my lowed talk, and the feeling of her cunt had stirred her lust and subdued her. She grasped my prick quite hard and sighed, “Aha.” Then as if conquering herself relinquished it. “I must go,” said she, rising. But I rose, the bed was at the back of us, and holding her to me I pulled her against it. Then desire conquered her. Without a word, without resistance, she laid on the bed, I mounted her, saw for an instant dark hair between her thighs, and we were one; cock and cunt in conjunction, cock ejaculating its sperm, cunt distilling its moisture, sighs and gasps of pleasure, soft kisses, and no other sound but the bursting and quiet cracking and hissing of the logs on the red hot embers.

What a delicious treat after a weeks abstinence. It was Paradise Elysium to us both, certainly to her, as much as to me. We lay copulated, kissing and tonguing long after the ecstatic pleasures were over, but at last disjoined. “Let us sleep together.” She stood quite still for a minute, and then, “I’ll take off my things in my own room,” was her only reply. She locked her boy’s door, and got into the bed with me. She had risked it and was ready for further risk My sperm had only made her more voluptuous. She knew too well the soft pleasure of a second fuck in the lubricated cunt to diminish it by washing, and as I had left it five minutes before, so I found it. No sooner had my fingers touched the lips, and felt the smooth sperm covered Surface, than my prick rose, and the next minute was engulfed and drowned in the bath of our joint making. How exquisite is the smoothness that a mans sperm gives to the vulva. I tried to prolong our pleasure, but our reservoirs were too full. Again we spent, and then overcome with pleasure and fatigue, fell asleep in each other’s arms.

She awakened me in two or three hours. The fire was out. She was next the wall, and was getting over me. “I want to pee,” said she. So did I. We both pissed in the dark, got into bed again and cuddled. Her modesty was gone, she handled my prick, I felt her cunt, and we kissed and kissed, feeling and handling. “Let me see your charms, I’ll strike a light” ‘No, don’t” but I did, and throwing up her chemise, saw a dark-brown motte, and handsome haunches, and belly. My prick stood again, I knelt for an instant between her thighs, shaking my stiff machine at her in baudy waggery. Then putting out the light we covered up, and talked lust, lewedness, and love, till again we consummated, and went to sleep, her bum against my ballocks, her back against my belly, my hand over her haunches touching her motte. The loveliest of all ways of sleeping with a woman in cold weather. We slept for hours. When I awakened it was six o’clock, and quite dark. Her rump was towards me and she was fast asleep. I was lying on my back, with as grand a prick as ever opened cunt lips. I never could have too much of a woman. Even when fucked out I still like to see, feel, and kiss her. I soon turned round, and felt my lady pretty freely over her body, but without awaking her. Then I slid my fingers between her buttocks and thighs, in what seemed much crisp hair, till the soft elastic covers of her quim met them. I wriggled quite slowly my middle finger up it, how warm, soft, and smooth, it felt, and I revelled in it for a minute. I believe it to be impossible to keep a finger up a woman’s cunt long without awaking her. Mrs. M***l**d’s bum began to move quite gently, and her cunt to clip when my finger had been in her a little time, then she half turned round, and my finger came out. “What is it, what are you doing, what is it? Oh, it’s you,” she said, suddenly becoming conscious that she she was in bed with me. Lust was raised in her. I pulled our night clothes well up, and belly to belly, with hands on each other’s arses we kissed. “Let’s do it again.” — She turned on to her back, I on to her belly, and we had that fuck with pleasure peculiar to the morning, and fell asleep again.

But she awakened me soon. — “I must get out.” “To piddle?” “Yes.” I groped for the pot and handed it to her, she pissed, and went to the boy’s door. “Arthur,” she called. “He’s fast asleep,” said she, and came to bed again. — We cuddled, but fucking was over. At the first glimpse of daylight, “I must get into my bed before my boy comes in,” said she. She bolted the door between our rooms, I went to bed, and it was late when I went to breakfast. She had breakfasted and left the room long before. — We had agreed not to notice each other much. The towel I had taken to bed with us was handsomely stained. — I am too old a hand now, and have had too much trouble with stained sheets to for-get a towel on such occasions as this.