Camille the second. • Stripping. • The divan. • Cock-washing. • Camille’s antecedents. • Face, form, and cunt. • Mode of copulating. • Avaricious. • Free fucking offered. • Gabrielle. • Cunt, form, and face. • Minette. • My daily dose of doxies. • At M**g**e. • Lodgings at the green-grocer’s. • Louisa the red- haired. • The lodging-house servant. • The shop-boy. • My friend’s daughter. • Piddling, and presents. • Loo’s bum pinched. • The servant kissed. • A stroke on the sands. • With Loo on the beach. • Chaff, and cunt-tickling. • A declaration of love. • The virtuous servant.

Since I had finished with Camille, her sister Louise, and the French artistes in letchery whom she introduced to me when I was twenty-one years old, I do not recollect having gone with a French woman excepting when abroad, my tastes ran on my own countrywomen. Now in the year 18**, a year of national importance, and one in which strangers came from all parts of the world to London, I was to have a French woman again.

Was it for the sake of change only, or because they were more willing, salacious, enterprising, and artistic in Paphian exercises? — was it my recollection of having that when I did not want it? — I cannot say. At quite the beginning of the month of June, about four o’clock in the afternoon, I saw a woman walking slowly along Pall-Mall dressed in the nicest and neatest way. I could scarcely make up my mind whether she was gay or not, but at length saw the quiet invitation in her eye, and slightly nodding in reply, followed her to a house in By Street, St. James. She was a French woman named Camille.

I named my fee, it was accepted, and in a quiet, even ladylike way she began undressing. With a neatness unusual in gay women, one by one each garment was folded up, and placed on a chair, pins stuck in a pin- cushion, etc., with the greatest composure, and almost without speaking. I liked her even for that, and felt she would suit my taste. As each part of her flesh came into view, I saw that her form was lovely. When in her chemise, I began undressing, she sitting looking at me. When in my shirt, I began those exquisite preliminaries with this well-made, pretty woman, feeling her all over, and kissing her; but my pego was impatient, and I could not go on at this long. Smiling she laid hold of my prick. “Shall we make love?” this was in the bed-room. “Yes.” “Here, or in the salon?” “I don’t like a sofa.” “Mais ici,” said she pushing the door open wide, and pointing to a piece of furniture which I had not noticed, though noticeable enough.

In the room was a sort of settee or divan, as long, and nearly as wide as a good-sized bed; so wide that two people could lie on it side by side. It had neither head nor feet, but presented one level surface, covered with a red silky material, and a valance hanging down the sides. At one end were two pillows, also red, and made flat like two bed-pillows. “There, on that,” said I at once.

I never saw any divan or piece of furniture like it in my life since, neither in brothel, nor in private house, here or on the Continent, excepting once when quite in the extreme East of Europe.

It was a blazing hot day. “Shall I take off my chemise?” “Yes.” Off she took it, folded it up, and took it into the bed-room. “Take off your shirt.” Off I drew it, and we both stood naked. She laid hold of my stiff prick, gave it a gentle shake, laughed, fetched two towels, spread one on the divan for her bum, laid the other on a pillow for me, went back to the bed-room, poured out water in the basin, then laid herself down naked on the divan with her bum on the towel. I kissed her belly and thighs, and she opened them wide for me to see her notch, without my having asked her to do so. To pull it open, have a moment’s glance at the red, kiss and feel her rapidly over, mount her, fuck and spend, was only an affair of two or three minutes, so strongly had she stirred my lust for her.

I laid long up her, raising myself on my elbow to talk with her whilst my prick was still in her sheath. At length it slipped out. Gently she put her hand down, and caught it, taking off the excess of moisture. Delicately she raised the towel, and put her hand on her cunt, and saying with a smile. “Mon Dieu, it en a assez,” went to the bed-room, I following her.

She wiped her cunt with the towel, half squatting to do so, then rose up quickly saying, “Shall I wash you?” I had begun, but the offer pleased me. I have no recollection as I write this, of any gay woman having made such an offer since the first French Camille, me. If she be a cheat, and only uses the money to ex-tort more, be it so. — I know my woman, and have done with her henceforth.

Camille was a woman of perfect height, about five foot seven, and beautifully formed, had full, hard exquisite breasts, and lovely legs and haunches, though not too fat or heavy. The hair on her cunt, soft and of a very dark chestnut colour, was not then large in quantity, but corresponded with her years. Her cunt was small, with small inner lips, and a pretty nubbly clitoris like a little button. The split of her cunt lay between the thighs with scarcely any swell of outer-lips, but had a good mons, and was altogether one of the prettiest cunts I have ever seen. I am now beginning, after having seen many hundreds of them, to appreciate beauty in cunts, to be conscious that there is a special, a superior beauty in the cunts of some women as compared with others, just as there is in other parts of their body. She had pretty hands and feet.

Her skin had the slightly brown gipsy tint found in many women in the South of Europe. I never saw a woman in whom the colour was so uniform as in her. From her face to her ankles it was the same unvarying tint without a mottle, even in any cranny. It had also the most exquisite smoothness, but it neither felt like ivory, satin, nor velvet, it seemed a compound of them all. I have scarcely felt the same in any other woman yet. That smoothness attracted me at first I expect, but it was only after I had had her several times, that I began to appreciate it, and to compare it with the skin of other women. She had with that, a great delicacy of touch with her hands.

Her face was scarcely equal to her form. The nose was more than retroussé, it bordered on the snub. She had small, dark, softly twinkling eyes, and dark hair; the mouth was ordinary, but with a set of very small, and beautifully white, regular, teeth. The general effect of her face was piquante rather than beautiful, but it pleased me. Her voice was small and soft, — an excellent thing in a woman.

(Such was the woman I have known for thirty-one years, but of whom there is scarcely anything to be told. No intrigue, nothing exciting is connected with her and myself. I cannot tell all the incidents of our acquaintance right off as I do those of many of my women, who appeared, pleased me, and disappeared; but she will be noticed from time to time as I had her, or sought her help in different erotic whims and fancies, which took hold of me at various periods. I write this now finding that her name appears in my manuscript a long way further on. She was moreover a most intelligent creature, clean, sober, and economical, and saving with a good purpose and object, to end alas! for her in failure.)

I never had a more voluptuous woman. Naked on that divan, or on the bed when the weather was warm, I had her constantly during that summer. I know nothing more exciting, than the tranquil, slow, measured way in which she laid down, exposing her charms; every attitude being natural yet exciting by its beauty and delicate salacity. She always seemed to me to be what I had heard of Orientals in copulation. She had the slowest yet most stifling embrace. There was no violent energy, no heaving up of rump, as if a pin had just run into her, nor violent sighs, nor loud exclamations; but she clung to you, and sucked your mouth in a way I scarcely ever have found in English women, or in French ones; but the Austrians and Hungarians in the use of tongue with tongue, and lips with lips are unrivalled in voluptuousness.

Beyond a voluptuous grace natural to her, she had not at first the facile ways of a French courtesan, they came later on. I saw the change, and from that and other indications feel sure she had not been in gay life long before I had her. I could tell more of her history, but this is a narrative of my life, not of hers.

(I have destroyed some pages of manuscript solely relating to her.)

She soon got a good clientele, picked up English rap-idly, dressed richly, but never showily, and began to save money. She made affectionate advances to me which I did not accept. After a time she used to pout at what I gave her, and got greedy. So one day saying, “Ma chere, here is more, but adieu, — I don’t like you to be dissatisfied, but cannot afford to come to see you,” — she slapped the gold heavily down on the table. “Ah! mon Dieu, don’t say so, — come, — come, — I am sorry, — you shall never pay me, — come when you like, — I did not want you to pay me, but you would, — come, — do come, — that lovely prick, — do me again before you go, — don’t go, — my maid shall say I have not come home,”(she expected some man), — and she never pouted about my compliment, till many years afterwards.

I suppose that having had this charming fresh French woman, made me wish for another; for spite of my satisfaction and liking for her, I made acquaintance with another French woman, as unlike Camille as possible. Her name was Gabrielle, a bold-looking woman with big eyes and a handsome face, very tall and well-made, but with not too much flesh on her bones, with a large, full-lipped, loud-looking cunt in a bush of hair as black as charcoal. I never told Camille about her, and think it was the great contrast between the two which made me have her. That woman also seemed later on to have taken some sort of fancy to me.

She had all the ready letchery of a well-practised French harlot, I saw it from the way she opened her thighs, and laid down to receive my embraces. About the third visit she brought water, and made me wash my prick, on which the exudation of healthy lust was showing whitish, before she let me poke her. I liked her cleanliness, but to my astonishment no sooner were we on the bed, than she reversed herself laying side by side with me, and began sucking my prick. I had no taste for that pleasure, nor since a woman in the rooms of Camille the first did it to me, had my penis been so treated that I recollect, though I had made ladies take it into their mouths for a second. I objected. “Mais si, — mais si,” — and she went on. My head was near her knee, one leg she lifted up, showing her thighs, which opened and showed her big-lipped cunt in its thicket of black hair. She played with my prick thus till experience told her she could do it no longer with safety, then ceasing her suction, and changing her position, I fucked her in the old-fashioned way.

The amusement seemed not to have shocked me as much as I thought it should have done, and it was repeated as a preliminary on other days, without my ever suggesting it. After I had had my first poke, the delicate titillation of the mouth seemed vastly pleasant, my prick then being temporarily fatigued by exercise in its natural channel; but I felt annoyed with myself for relishing it at all.

I had not overcome prejudices then, though evidently my philosophy was gradually undermining them. Why, if it gives pleasure to the man to have his prick sucked by a woman, who likes operating that way on the male, should they be abused for enjoying themselves in such manner? A woman may rub it up to stiffen it, the man always does so if needful, — that is quite natural and proper. What wrong then in a woman using her mouth for the same purpose, and giving still higher, more delicate and refined pleasure? All animals lick each other’s privates, why not we? In copulation and its consequences, we are mainly animals, but with our intelligence, we should seek all possible forms of pleasure in copulation, and everything else.

With these two women I was satisfied till towards the end of August, both of them trying to make me see them much. Gabrielle for some fancy of her own took to calling me Monsieur Gabrielle. I did not see her nearly so often as Camille, but one or other I saw al-most daily, Camille generally between luncheon and dinner, Gabrielle after dinner. I have seen both on the same day, and then both were fucked; but I usually copulated but once daily. I was in good health, and one daily emission of semen kept me so, and seemed as needful to me as sleep. I had much lewed pleasure in comparing mentally their two cunts, their being a most striking difference in the look of the two.

I was so amused with them that year, that I would not leave till near September. Then, “You’ve stopped all the long days, and the hottest weather, when I wanted to be by the seaside, — and now I won’t go at all.” I was glad of it, and without waiting for change of intention in that quarter, had my things packed up, and without delay, took myself off to the healthy, but vulgarish town of M**g**e. It was a place where I expected a little fun, a few kisses from healthy lips, and a little intrigue perhaps, and the chance of getting some young healthy, unfucked cunt. I know pretty well now that with town-women out for a brief holiday like most of those who go to M**g**e; that idleness, better air, more and better food than they are accustomed to, heats the cunts, and makes many a modest one long for the male, and discontented with her middle- finger.

I had not been at my hotel a day, before I met an intimate friend with his wife and eldest daughter, — a girl of fourteen. He had taken the upper part of a house over a shop, being a man of but moderate means, and intended to have brought two other children, and a maid, but something prevented that. I liked both him and his wife, and at his suggestion went to occupy one of his rooms, and live with them (paying my share). I found the rooms were over a greengrocers, which I didn’t like, and think I should have cried off, had I not seen that the servant was a healthy, full-fleshed bitch, and I thought there might be a chance of prodding her, like Sally on a previous autumn.

The house newly built, and evidently for lodgings, was bigger, more comfortable than most of its class, and had a side or private entrance- door, opening on to a passage separated from the shop but with a door into it at the end where also was a kitchen with a bed-room over it, and a water-closet, all looking into a little garden with one or two trees in it. The sitting and bed-rooms over the shop were occupied by my friend and wife, and of two rooms above, one was mine, and one his daughter’s; the attics the landlady and the servant I thought occupied. There was also leading out from the staircase, the bed-room over the kitchen which my friend had also hired, to avoid having strangers in the house with them. This was entered from the staircase-landing, as was the lodgers’ water- closet, a convenience which few such houses had then.

The shop seemed flourishing. Any one going in at the private door could not fail to see the whole of the shop, down to a small parlour having a window on to the garden. The first thing I noticed was a strong, healthy, red-cheeked, saucy-looking girl about sixteen years of age, with a curly but dishevelled head of deep red coloured hair, — a very unusual and peculiar deep-red, and but rarely seen. The girl standing at the shop- front stared hard at me when I arrived, and nudged a big boy about fifteen years old who was hall-sitting close by the girl, upon a sack of potatoes. The girl called the woman of the house “Aunt.” She attended to the shop I found when the aunt was away (cooking chiefly when so). The boy took home the goods purchased, and left nightly after closing the shutters. Red-Head slept in the attics over me, and took off her boots at times as she went upstairs, so as not to make a noise over the lodgers’ heads, — the aunt slept there also. They two eat in the kitchen or the shop-parlour.

I was at once cheery with the servant, but it did not promise much. The red-haired one (another Louisa, and called Loo), pleased me, though I did not like her hair. She spoke so loud, laughed so heartily with customers, took chaffing, lifted such heavy weights, and moving het haunches, that I longed to pinch her. She looked so hard at me (and also my friend), when we passed the shop, for she was generally at the door, and often outside it, goods being placed there, — that I made up my mind she had just come into the first lusts of womanhood, and was pretty strongly in want of a man.

In a day or two I was buying fruit two or three times daily. “Keep the change Loo (I hear that’s your name), — it will buy you some ribbon.” “Oh! thankee sir,” — and she put it quickly into her pocket without hesitation. Emboldened I gave her half a crown. “Keep the change, and you shall give me a kiss for it.” Into her pocket it went. She looked quickly towards the back of the shop, — there was the boy. She slightly shook her head. “I can’t,” said she in a low voice, taking the change out of her pocket and tendering it to me. I winked, pushed out my lips as if kissing, and left the shop, leaving her the change. The boy was out of sight somewhere when I was buying the fruit.

Between eleven and one o’clock she was mostly alone, her aunt in the kitchen, the boy out, and the same for an hour or two in the afternoon. Unfortunately those were the bathing and promenading hours, so there was difficulty in getting at the girl unobserved, but nothing stood in my way when cunt-hunting, and never had. From always thinking how, and where, I all my life have got my opportunities with women. I also found that of an evening, her aunt just at dusk went out at times to get, I heard her say, a mouthful of fresh air. Then the girl was alone with the boy till he left.

About the fourth night, the boy had left, Loo was alone in the shop- parlour, my friends upstairs. I went out (as I said), to have a cigar, and a stroll, but when just at the bottom of the stairs the shop-door in the partition opened, and Loo appeared. “Hist, — hist,” said I. She stopped, I caught hold of her, and kissed her.

“Oh! don’t, — Mary (the servant) is in the kitchen.” I kissed again. “Oh! don’t.” “You owe me a kiss.” “Oh! not here, — go to the front-door,” said she. I did. She came there, just outside the door, but up against it, she kissed me, and went rapidly back. “I’ll wait for you as you go to bed,” I said, and did so with slippers off.

About half-past ten she passed my bed-room. I heard Miss * * * * moving about in the room opposite to me, but on the landing I pinched Loo’s bum hard, — very hard as she passed. She winced, and passed on very quickly, shaking her head and smiling, candle in hand. I put my head down shamming to look up her clothes. We were intimate already, I had begun double entendres which she took, and I began to think that the fresh-looking, saucy one, young as she was, knew a prick from a cucumber. Then I found that the servant went home each night to sleep.

I hadn’t been at M**g**e a week before I wanted female assistance, and picking up a casual, and thinking of my intention, gave her five shillings to show me a baudy house or two, which she did. One, a very quiet one, was in the old part of the town, over a china-shop.

Parting with the woman I strolled on to the beach, and met her there again, and felt her cunt, I sitting on a seat, she standing by the side of me. My cock stood, and I gave her money for a poke. It was not a dark night. “There is sand low down,” said she, “no one will notice us when we are lying down.” But a fear came over me, — I told her so. “Well I’ve got your money, and if there was anything the matter with me, I’d hardly ask you to have me, — I’m here every night, and live up at * * * with my mother.” Then near to the waves, she laid on her back on the soft dry sands, and I fucked her, and enjoyed her very much. “How do you wash your cunt?” “I piddle now, and wipe it with my handkerchief, down there (nodding her head) — there are rocks and pools of water, — I’m going to wash it there, — I always do after gents,” — and she went off to do it.

Next day buying something, “Come Loo, and kiss me in the passage.” “I can’t — he’ll be going out at half-past eleven.” Excusing myself from accompanying my friends, I was at the lodgings at that hour. The servant above had then all the beds to make, and the aunt was cooking. It was risky, yet I had a brief talk with Loo in whispers in the passage, and kissed, and hugged her, and told her I had fallen deeply in love with her. I had not begun smut, but her bold manner made me wonder why I had not. That afternoon I overheard a quarrel between her and her aunt, and saw Loo wiping her eyes. Loo said to me when I told her what I had heard, that she wished she’d never come, and would sooner go to service.

I noticed also, for I was dodging in and out all day, and listening in the passage where I could hear much said in shop and parlour, what seemed to me a very familiar manner between the girl and the boy. One day he took her round the waist. She, seeing me enter the shop, pushed his hand away and boxed his ears. He stooped, pulled her petticoats a little way up, and then suddenly appeared very busy. Evidently she had given him a hint. It annoyed me, and I wondered if the boy had felt her.

I did not quite give up hopes of the maid, who looked five-and-twenty. I kissed her, and gave her a little present for cleaning my boots nicely. She took that fairly well. Then I felt for her notch outside her clothes. She repulsed me violently, and with a look which I didn’t like. So for a time I desisted, but re-commenced, and at length kissed her every time I got her alone. My friend’s daughter caught me at it, and her father spoke to me. He didn’t mind, but his wife did, — I must take care, — it wouldn’t do to let a young girl see that game going on. Nothing more was said, but I noticed that he and his wife looked after me. One night when we were walking out alone, he said, “You want that woman, — and a damned nice woman she looks, — if my wife wasn’t here I’d try to get her my-self, — but for God’s sake don’t let either of the ladies catch you, — it won’t do.”

The young lady’s room was opposite to mine, and such was my insatiable desire to see females in deshabille or nude, that it passed through my mind to bore a hole (which I had done at foreign hotels) through her door, to spy her. I could have done so, but I did not, though I could not restrain myself from listening to hear when she piddled and a few times succeeded. Then I thought of her piddle and little hairless cunt, which gave me such pleasure, that I quite felt a liking for the girl, but not sexually, and brought her presents which pleased both her and her parents.

In a fortnight I had often kissed Loo, and pinched her bum till she said it was blue. I told her I should like to sleep with her, for I loved her, — this was on the first night she got out for a walk at dusk. I had heard her aunt say she’d keep a tight hand on her, and I found Loo was fast almost to a gallop. We walked and sat down on a beach-seat. “How can you love me? — you’re married, — Mary heard Mrs. L**g saying so.” “I never said I wasn’t, but I hate her, and do nothing to her, and love you.” “Oh! gammon,” she replied. I had now a little changed my opinion about the girl. She wanted to know the meaning of my “doing nothing,” was free in manner, and any delicate smut which I began using she answered frankly to. “Oh! I knows what you means well enough, but don’t you go on like that.” I concluded she had been brought up with coarse people who spoke of all their wants, and acts openly, so that the girl saw no harm in such things. She had only been with her aunt that summer. She told me of her relatives, and where they lived in Northumberland, — there was a large family, — but that was all I could get out of her. “Yer don’t want to call on em,” said she laughing.

All was soon finished with the servant. One morning I waited indoors in hopes of getting at Loo, and spied the servant as she brought a slop-pail to the closet which as said was close to the bed-room over the kitchen. When she came out I asked her into that room which I had never entered before. “Come here, I’ve something particular to tell you, — come.” Reluctantly she came in, then I kissed, and gradually getting to the unchaste, got my hand on to her cunt. “Be quiet, — you shan’t, — oh! don’t, — Mrs. Jones will be up to see if all’s right.” “No she’s out — oh! what lovely thighs, — what hair on your cunt — don’t make that noise.” She resisted hard, and pushed down her clothes, at first spoke in suppressed tones, then louder. “You shan’t, — oh! you wretch, — I don’t want a dress, — you shan’t, — oh! oh! leave off, —I’ll tell Mrs. Jones, — I will.”

I desisted for a moment, but only to pull out my prick. She had taken up the slop-pail looking very angry. With prick out I rushed at her, she banged the pail down, I pushed her against the bedside, and got my fingers on to her cunt again. “Let me have you.” “Oh! — you — shan’t, — I’ll call.” “I’ll say that you asked me in here.” “You liar, you beast, — I won’t, — oh! hi!,” and she cried out so loudly that I desisted.

“I won’t stop here any longer, and I’ll tell Mrs. Jones.” She went out of the room crying and nodding her head furiously at me. There will be a row, thought I. Later on I offered her two sovereigns. “Don’t say anything, — you’ll only lose your character if you do, — I’ve done you no harm.” Indeed I rather funked the affair. She took the money without a word, and pushed me off when I tried to kiss her, and I never got at her again. Two days afterwards she left, — she was only a weekly servant. I don’t think she ever told about me, — she said she didn’t like the place.