Married, and miserable. • Virtuous intentions. • Consequences. • Mary Davis. • A virtuous child. • Low class fucksters. • A concupiscent landlady. • Reflexions on my career. • On the sizes of pricks.. • My misconception.

My life was now utterly changed; married. I was quite needy, with a yearly income (and that not my own) not more than I used to spend in a month, some-times in a fortnight. Every shilling I had to look at, walked miles where I used to ride, and to save a six pence, amusements were beyond me, my food was the simplest, wine I scarcely tasted, all habits of luxury were gone, but worse than all I was utterly wretched. I tried to make the best of my life and could when by myself be cheerful, even in the recollection of the past fun; but there was that about me now which brought sorrow over to me. The instant I saw her, she checked my smile, sneered at my past, moaned over my future, was a nightmare to me, a very spectre.

I tried to like, to love her. It was impossible. Hateful in day, she was loathsome to me in bed. Long I strove to do my duty, and be faithful, yet to such a pitch did my disgust at length go, that laying by her side, I had wet dreams nightly, sooner than relieve myself in her. I have frigged myself in the streets before entering my house, sooner than fuck her. I loving women, and naturally kind and affectionate to them, ready to be kind and loving to her, was driven to avoid her as I would a corpse. I have followed a woman for miles with my prick stiff, yet went to my wretched home pure, because I had vowed to be chaste. My heart was burning to have an affectionate kiss, a voluptuous sight from some woman, yet I avoided obtaining it. My health began to give way, sleepless nights, weary days made me contemplate suicide. It seemed as if I never could have happiness again, yet my physical forces, or so much of them as lay in my generative organs, seemed unimpaired. I neither drank nor debauched, and my prick stood incessantly; neither random frigs nor night-dreams stopped it.

My only relief from misery was in thinking over the pleasures I had had, yet all seemed such a long time past, that it was She a dream. Then a desire to have other women became invincible. I had no means to get those I had been accustomed to, and seemed to have no idea of going economically to work for my pleasures, but at length began to walk through streets inhabited by very poor gay women, in a neighbourhood I had known in my early youth. Then I found out other poor quarters, and one night with but a few shillings in my pocket, after thinking of throwing myself into a canal, I found myself at a spot where women of a somewhat better class lived in its centre, and on its outskirts very poor harlots.

“I will,-have I the money? — can’t help it, — if one won’t another will”, and I slunk into a street, half ashamed of entering it. Saw girls standing at doors, never paused for selection, nor to see if one looked nicer than another, it was cunt I wanted. The moment I turned the corner of the street, I cared not who or what, as long as she had a petticoat and what it hid from sight. I took the nearest.

“Will you let me have you for five shillings?” was all I uttered. I recollect it as well as possible, hanging my head, ashamed of my offer, and not looking at the girl, ashamed of being seen in the neighbourhood.

“All right”, said she turning round. I followed her through the little narrow passage of a four-roomed house into a little room with a bed on one side of it. I looked at her, and she at me for an instant only. “Here are the five shillings”, said I. “Shall I undress?” “No.” “Shall we get on the bed?” “No, at the side”, -and whilst speaking I had half lifted her on to it. Laughing with a peculiar chuckle she fell back, pulling up her clothes. I saw plump thighs, dark hair, felt giddy, could not see, recollect opening the lips, and began to spend as the tip of my prick touched her cunt. Following the spunk as it shot up the passage as it opened its way, with one thrust I was up her, and had finished. Fifty times in my life up to the time I pen this, has a similar rapid ejaculation occurred to me when randy.

“Didn’t you want it!” said she. They were the first words I recollect being uttered as I bent over her. How divine she seemed. “Let me do it again.” “Oh! you ought to give me a little more.” “I’ll give you a shilling, it’s all I have I fear; but more if I have it.” “Very well then”, said a soft voice. Oh ! what a heavenly few minutes they seemed to me, — they still seem to me,— as I fucked her again. First and second fuck must have been all over in five minutes. I had not uncunted.

“Pull it out”, said she after an interval, my cock still keeping in her; but I kept close to her, and up her. “Be still dear, do pray, — I’ll see what money I have.” My hat and my great-coat were on, it was cold, I had only unbuttoned my trousers enough to get out my prick. Keeping still up her, I thrust my hand into my trouser’s pocket, pulled out all the money I had, and put it on the bed beside her. “See, it is all I have, every farthing, a little more than I said, — let me do it again, — there is more than seven shillings”, —and pressing well on to her haunches, I began wriggling my prick.

She turned her head, looked at the money, but did not touch it. “Very well”, said she in a low voice, “but take it out, — don’t make my chemise in a mess, I have not another clean, — don’t make a mess on the bed if you can help it.” “I shan’t.” “Yes you will, you have spent such a lot, it’s running out now.”

I withdrew. She took a towel which was close at hand, wiped her cunt and spread another for her bum. I threw off hat and coat. Soon now we were both on the bed, I up her, and leaning on my elbow for the first time really looked at her. Up to that moment cunt, cunt, nothing but cunt was in my mind. Now I saw that her eyes were blueish, her hair dark and wavy, I recollect our staring in each other’s faces for a minute or two without speaking. A candle on a little table close to the bed showed a strong light on us sideways; then we both fucked with vigour, and Mary Davis spent with me, — she spent with me, that poor little gay woman.

“You are a nice poke”, said the girl. I got off the bed, sat on a chair by the fire, and looked at the merry face of the little gay woman as she smiled at me whilst washing her quim. The pleasure I had just had, the entrancement of the carnal pleasure contrasted so strongly with my misery at home, that I burst into tears, and sobbed like a child. She rubbed her quim dry, then silently came up to me, put her hand on my shoulder, and stood without uttering a word till my passion was over. “Are you unhappy?” said she in a gentle tone. Yes I was. “Never mind, I dare say it will be over some day-we have all got unhappiness.”

Her kind voice and manner-she a gay woman who owed me no kindness—so contrasted with the coldness elsewhere, that it made me worse and again I sat sobbing, and taking no notice of her; she still standing with her hand on my shoulder.

“Have something to drink”, said she. “Yes”,-but recollecting myself, “No, I have no money, I have given you every farthing I have.” “Never mind, — do you like gin ?-I do.” “Yes.” She called out to the landlady, “Fetch me a shilling’s worth of gin, and mind you don’t take any,-mind a shilling’s worth fills this .bottle to here (giving the landlady a large medicine bottle), don’t take any, and I will give you a little. I’ll pay for the gin”, said she turning to me.

I sat looking at the fire. “You have not washed yourself”, said she. “No, are you unwell?” “No, I think I am all right, but we can’t always say you know, and it’s best to wash after us”, — and I washed.

I took hot gin and water, and got cheered, even began to smile when she said, “You are a gentleman, ain’t you?” “Yes I think so.” “I am sure you are by your manner, but you are poor I suppose.” I told her the entire truth, my heart was so full, I told this strange gay woman all my trouble, all my misery, wanted more gin and water, and having in my pocket a gold pencil-case, a gift of an aunt’s, “Get some more gin”, said I, “take this and pawn it, for I have no money.” She would not. “I am sure, if you say you will bring me the money, that you will. I will pay for more gin.”

So sitting, talking, and drinking gin and water, she sitting opposite to me listening whilst I told my troubles, and my burst of troubles over, relieved by my confidences, I became aware that she was plump, fleshy, good-looking, and had a mild sympathetic eye. Up to that time cunt alone had fascinated me, now I thought of the woman, and a liking for her because she seemed kind stole over me; desire to have her, caress her, spend in her on that account, rather than a desire for her cunt alone, thrilled through me as I looked at her sitting half facing me by the fire; her clothes slightly raised, that the warmth might reach her limbs, one elbow on her knee, the hand supporting her face turned towards me full of interest. And so an hour or more ran away.

“I want you again so, but I have no more money.” “Never mind, you may have me, — shall I undress?” “Oh! do, — do, — how round and plump you are,-but I have no more money.” “Never mind, — give me more when you see me again. Come into the bed, — see the sheets are quite clean, — no one has slept in them, I take the clean ones off every night, and put on others before I go to bed,-stop with me all night.” We both undressed, and jumped into bed together. I was frantic with pleasure as I cuddled up to her plump warm body, and felt her from her neck to her knees; rolled over her, and kissed her, till I settled down between her thighs; and then Mary Davis and I fucked, and laid still, and then fucked again, and so on, till I could do it no longer.

It was three in the morning. “Stop all night”, said she, “I will give you a nice breakfast in the morning.” I would not, had a strong desire to keep up appearances of propriety and happiness at home, if I had not the reality; so with a sigh rose, and dressed, borrowed a shilling of her, and went out into the street. Silent and dirty it was, and raining hard as I walked home to my miserable bed.

At dusk next day with impatience I went off to Mary Davis’, gave her what I had promised, and money for that evening besides, and when I had had her, we sat down and talked again.

She was a short woman about nineteen years old, plump without fat, but as nicely covered as any woman I ever saw; had a big bum, large thighs, plenty of room between them, and dark hair on her cunt which had strongly developed lips, it was large outside in proportion to her size. She had a soft, kind face, beautiful grey eyes, nearly black hair which draped naturally, and was altogether as nice a little woman as one could have wanted. I have wondered often how she could have settled down in a neighbourhood of costermongers, and taken five shillings for her person, when she might as well have been a two-sovereign woman, had she tried elsewhere. I put her up to trying at a future day, but she never would.

Her room was about twelve feet square. A large bed took up one third of it, a table next the only window, two chairs (one easy), little cupboards in the recesses by the fire-place, on which stood china and glasses, a small wash-hand stand, a chest of drawers, with slop-pail, coal-scuttle, and looking-glass completed the furniture. All was scrupulously clean, the bed-linen white.

Having broken my virtuous resolution, I never regained it, and for a week fucked Mary from six in the evening till two the next morning. My week’s amusement cost me about two pounds, but then that modest sum was too much for my pocket, so I left off for a while, and gave Mary a chance of keeping her other friends. They were mostly poor clerks, she told me, and married men better off, who gave her a pound, or at times paid her rent if in arrear. She paid I think but twenty-five shillings a week for her board and lodging together. My too exclusive attentions for a week had prevented her regulars from coming. There was lots of cheaper cunt in the neighbourhood so to send them away with full balls was dangerous.

The house was kept by an old man and woman, he a carpenter almost too old, yet who went to daily work. He used to fetch gin and beer for us. There was no lodger in the house. They were a decent couple, and after a time I used to talk to the old woman, and when Mary once went away ill, she got me a beautifully shaped girl, I had offered her money to get me a girl of about fourteen years of age, a virgin. The streets about there swarmed with girls and boys who played about at night, I could hear their smutty language as they ran after each other yelling, laughing and quarrel-ling. She tried, but never could; she was not a woman who undertook that sort of thing, but the money tempted her. “There are lots of girls about”, said she, “their mothers don’t care what they do, but you want a virgin,-Lor ! where’s she to be found?-when they’s about thirteen or fourteen years old they won’t be kept in, they is about the dark streets at night, and Lor ! if you heard what I have in the streets where the costers’ barrows is, of a night!” And so the old woman intimated that all the young girls of that select neighbourhood, were got into by the coster boys, and that a virginity was a rarity at fourteen years old. I afterwards groped several young girls in those dark streets, and there was certainly no obstacle to my fingers searching their cunts.

“I thinks I knows a steady little gal, whose mother’s just died, her father ain’t no good, and you and Mary must ask her in; I can’t have nothin to do with it except gettin her here.” One day afterwards she told me she had asked the girl to tea, and that she was as curious as could be to know all about it (meaning fucking). “She knows as much as we do”, said the old woman with a chuckle. “Was far as talking goes and she would like to know as much as them as does it as well, but she is timid; there is three of them, she is the eldest, the father leaves her in charge, you shall see her.” Mary Davis had gone home ill. The girl was brought in, I sent out for gin, a nice little girl she was, and she drank some of it. The old woman then left with a wink. The girl took my kisses very well, never said a word, so getting on by degrees I talked to her about naked people, and getting children, felt her ankles and legs, then told her I woulld give her a shilling if she would feel my cock. She did not say a word, but stood still, my arm round her waist, whilst I pulled out my stiff prick. Then she bent forward curiously, whilst I put her little hand round it, and guiding it, pulled the foreskin down from the tip. Then I put my hand up her clothes, and felt her thighs and bum; but on bringing my hand to the cunt, she broke away in tears saying, “Oh I no sir, — I would rather not sir, —I’m much obliged to you sir for showing it me, and the shilling; but I would rather not sir,-oh ! let me go, let me go, — Mrs. Smith, — Mrs. Smith.” The old woman was listening, and came in instantly. “Oh! what are you doing to her?” said she in a whining tone, “what is the matter my dear? — don’t cry, — oh ! you should not sir”, — and winking at me, away she went with the girl; then came back, said the girl was scared, and she feared it was no go. “But if you heared her talk, you would think she would let any man do anything with her.”

Half-an-hour afterwards the girl had composed her-self, and came back. I had more gin, the old woman again left us, the girl had another shilling, and again she felt me. I began talking to her about the parsley-bed out of which children come, and generally on the subject of generation and its working tools. “Now dear don’t be alarmed (she seemed as timid as a hare), you know what a cunt is?” “Yes”, said she, “it’s a nasty word,-poor mother told father he was a beast cause he said it when drunk.” “Well my dear, some-thing comes out of a man if he puts this up a cunt, and that gets children, — lay hold of my prick, and you will see”,-and guiding her little hand I frigged myself with it. But she cried out when I attempted to feel her cunt, and I never had her. The old woman said she was frightened to bring her again, that she and Mary Davis might manage it together, and when Davis came back I wished her to try, but she refused to have anything to do with it. The lech passed away, for it was but a whim. At that time I liked large well-haired cunts.

I am anticipating, for this took place nearly two years after I first had Mary Davis. That girl got fond of me, and I liked her. I got a little better off, and used to give her more money; but she always took what I gave her contentedly. The only thing I can remember out of the common course of lecherous events in such acquaintances, is that I took one for spending over her, used to fuck up to spending-point, then pull out my prick, and frigging it, emit my semen on to her belly, breasts, or thighs; then I began fucking again, almost directly I had discharged and looking at my spunk lying on her flesh. When my pleasure came on again, I would put her hand on to my spunk; and directly her fingers touched it, it fetched me, and she as well, although she always said it was a dirty trick. But I only did this a few times. I began also to use French letters, for reasons she advised me to do so.

The neighbouring streets were full of poor gay women. She heard that I had been seen going into a house in the neighbourhood, and cried about it. Her health got bad, her womb began to fall, and the doctor said she was not strong enough for a gay life. She told me she was the daughter of an under game-keeper, that a young tradesman kept company with her, she liked him, and he said he meant to marry her. Bringing her home one evening when she had got out on the sly, they felt each other’s privates on the road. Very soon after she and one of her sisters were allowed to go to some village dance. Her sister walked off with her sweetheart; Mary’s young man took her to some cottage, did it to her twice, and then walked home with her. She did not know whose fault it was; his or hers, for from the night they had felt each other, she thought of nothing else till she had his prick up her. Her father found it out, she ran away to London, became gay, and had never lived in any other house but the one I visited her in. “Whenever I saw him after he had felt me” (her lover) she would say, “I felt in a flurry all over, and could think of nothing else, I longed to feel his hand on my thing again,-she soon did.”

She went home ill, came back, her womb got worse, she went to a hospital, got thin and fretted, again went home, and I never heard more of her. I had great pleasure in her society, it was my greatest solace to tell her all my misery, for she was a complacent kind creature. It was wonderful to see how clean everything was in that little square room, yet with the exception of the fire-place, she cleaned everything herself. At about two o’clock in the day she was dressed, and standing at the door, to catch passers-by. She never spoke to them unless they spoke to her. She was to me at first a novel experience but I soon had plenty of experience of the poor class of women in adjacent streets.

I found it not wise to go into the streets well dressed, so put on old things, drew my hat over my eyes, assumed a slouching gait, and walked along slowly, talking to the women fill I found one I liked. Their salutation usually was, “Come here dear, — come and see what I have got to show you.” “What?” “Such a nice cunt, — such a lot of hair.” “Such a fat arse”, would say another. “How much will you let me for?” “What you like, — come in.” “I have not much money,-let me look at your cunt for a shilling.” “Come in then.” Another would say, “Make it two, and I’ll strip.” Many a cunt I have seen for a shilling. If I did not like it, I went further on, or into the next street.

The street-doors were usually open, the women when dressed lolling just inside them, with head out, but dropping back if they saw a likely man, and addressing him as he passed in loud or low tones, according to their cheek. If a woman I had had and expected to see was not visible, my way was to step inside the passage, and listen at the door; if through the key- hole I saw a light, or heard voices, there was business on. If in the evening the outside shutters of the room were closed, I knew the woman was engaged for a long time, perhaps her own man, a cab-man, a costermonger, or some man of similar class was with her, if late. The women there though about the same price, or cheaper, had quite different manners from the Waterlo0 road ones. There were rarely more than one woman in a house, and always on the ground floor, the landlord or lady living in the back room, or upstairs. The rooms were mostly let to working people, who seemed quiet enough.

Lots of children were about, who played in the streets at day, but disappeared if quite young towards dusk. If a man stopped and talked to a gay woman at the door, the children of the house usually went in, always did if more than about ten years old. They drew back as if they knew that a bargain for fucking was to be struck, and I believe knew all about it. They were mostly girls who sleeping in the same room with their parents, I dare say had seen the game of mother and father played often enough. The bigger girls frisked about the streets of an evening with boys of the same age, or not much older.

If a woman could get you to enter the passage, she almost pulled you into her room. “Come in, — don’t stand there,-come out of the way of the lodgers, — I’ll tell you if you come in,-well make it half-a-crown, -I’ve got such a nice cunt, — such a fat arse, — feel my bubbies,-look here, — come in, and let me feel your prick.”

This was all said rapidly, and according to the inducements the woman had to offer. It generally ended in my going in, and the bargain was completed inside. “I’ll frig you, — do anything you She, — look here (showing rapidly her breasts, and covering them up again),-here is a big pair of legs (pulling her clothes up), — yes you may fuck me how you She, — oh ! yes I want to piss bad.” I have heard this hundreds of times. Once inside ! never came out without paying something. The women always said or did just enough to wet my appetite for knowing or seeing a little more, so I paid, and often enough was disappointed, and left; but saw a lot.

In these streets about seven in number, during a period of two or three years, I had many women, even whilst I visited Mary Davis. I dare say fifty women I fucked, and felt as many more before I ceased going to the neighbourhood. Two or three of the adventures there are alone worth writing. At one house I was robbed of a pin whilst actually fucking the woman.

A tall broad-built woman of about thirty, was loll-at a door one night. I do not recollect having seen her before, for I knew many women by sight, even though I had not had them. She looked like a coster’s wife. I should have passed on, but for the lewd way in which her eyes met mine. I stopped, she instantly looked rapidly up and down the street, went back inside the door-way saying very loudly, “You want my lodger, but she has left here”. but as she said this, she stepped inside the front room, and beckoned me in both with hand and head, her eyes wide open, and looking anxious. Slowly I followed in. She was so big that I thought I should like a feel, and if I liked that would pay more, and have more. “I’ll give you a shilling to feel your cunt.” “Very well”, said she standing still, and not attempting to lift her clothes slightly as most of the women used to do. I got my hand on her thighs, she pushed it away, retreated towards the bed and sat on it. I took out a shilling, and as usual put it on the mantel-piece. “There is the money, — let me now.” She no longer resisted, I felt her, and she opened her legs to facilitate my groping. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Is your cock standing?” said she in a whisper. “Yes feel it”, said I unbuttoning. She grabbed at it as if she meant to pull it off.

Her manners struck me as uncommon, and I began to feel uncomfortable; but under the squeezing of my cock, and the feeling of her cunt the usual desire to leave one’s sperm up her came over me. “Let me fuck you,-I’ll give you two shillings more.” Without reply she fell back on the bed, I began to throw up her clothes. “Oh ! no I can’t let you do that.” I had when with strange women just then been using French letters, and the fear of infection came over me when she would not submit herself to my inspection. “You have got something the matter with you, and I shan’t, I said. “Nothing of the sort”, said she angrily, “I’m not gay, — I’m the landlady,-I am married, and have three children, — they are abed in the next room,-you may see them if you like. My lodger’s gone,-you’ve been here afore to see her,-I’ve seen you afore,-but I’m not gay, and can’t have anything the matter with me,-it’s impossible.” All this nearly in a whisper. Astonished I laughed. “Don’t make a noise”, said she, “I don’t want the lodgers to know I am in this room, they know it’s empty, — come on”, and grasping my prick again, she surrendering herself more freely to my investigations.

“Where is your husband?” “Away on a job in the country; I haven’t seen him for three months, and have not been touched for that time, so help me God; you may do it without fear,-there then look, if you must”, said she, letting me throw up her clothes, and look well at her cunt, which I opened. “I’m a quiet woman.” Then she turned round, twisting herself so that she could get hold of my cock as I stood pulling her about. “Come on my dear.” The next minute I was spending up her.

“Go on, you were so quick, — go on”, said she in spasmodic utterances, jerking her bum, clutching me to her, and using the same endearments as any other woman,-women are all the same, from the princess to the peasant. I had spent quickly, but shoved on as well as I could, and in a second or two with a sigh, her cunt relaxed.

I moved out of her quickly, for fear of the ladies’ fever haunted me a little. She lay with her clothes up to her navel, till I had washed myself. “There is no towel or soap”, I said. Then she moved. “I’ll get you some, —but don’t afear me,-hush !—don’t make a noise, — wait five minutes for me, lock the door, and put out the light.” I stood aghast at this request; it was in a low neighbourhood, costermongers, tramps, and even a nest of thieves I had heard was not far off. “What the devil does she mean? — what game is up?” came across my mind. “I won’t put out the light”, I said. “Well hide it in the cupboard, lock the door, and if any one knocks don’t answer,-perhaps my late lodger’s friends may come, not knowing the has gone, —I don’t want any one to know any one is in the room.” This was all said in a whisper; she went out, shut the door gently, and walked to the back of the house, leaving her three shillings. I heard her foot-steps, and faintly afterwards the sounds of talking in the back room,-the partitions in the poor houses were thin.

I dried my tool with my shirt and sat on the bed, looking round at the poor room, wondering what dodge was up. She did not return, and thinking over the incidents, came to the conclusion that she was not a gay woman. There was just that difference in manners, in getting on to the bed, in taking her pleasures, and in her whole behaviour about the fucking, which there always is between a woman however loose she may be, but who does not fuck professionally, and the regular trader in her charms. I saw it then, and I see it still clearer writing about it now.

Nevertheless I began to think of leaving, feeling uneasy as she did not return for more than ten minutes. With my hat on, I was just about to run off, after hearing a man’s footsteps pass along the passage, when I heard a voice cry up the stairs, “Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Brown, I’m going out to get a mouthful of fresh air, —if the children cry, will you see to them?” A shrill voice replied, a female step passed my door, into the street. A second afterwards the door slowly opened (I had unlocked it as I heard what I supposed were her footsteps going along the passage). In she came, holding up her finger for silence, then quietly closing and locking the door, she stood smiling at me. “Don’t make a noise, they think I am out”, she said.

I looked fully at her now, my lust satisfied. She was a big woman of say thirty years of age, coarse, common, but clean; she had a dress on which opened in front like that of a woman who suckles, and some sort of cap on her head. I did not know what to make of it, for she stood as if waiting for me to speak. I did not, and taking the candle, she put it down on the floor by the side of the drawers, or something of the sort, and remarked, “They won’t see the light through the crack of the door now.” Again a man’s heavy foot-step was heard: “That’s my upstairs lodger”, said she when she noticed my listening.

“You are really not gay?” said I. Then she repeated what she had said before, and sat on the side of the bed by me. “You have big breasts”, I remarked. “Yes I was a fine woman, every one said before I married.” It is impossible to be near a woman without wishing to ascertain her hidden charms. In the hurried embrace with her I had thought of nothing but cunt. At that time of my life, to see a woman, to long for her, to make my bargain, and to fuck her, was often an affair of not much more than ten minutes; it was only after the fuck that I looked well at the female I had pierced.

“Let me feel them”, I said. She hesitated, but I undid the dress, and felt two breasts large and white, and pulled one out. “My nipple is spoilt with suckling”, said she, “I’ve not yet done giving milk.” “Let’s have you again.” “Yes”,-and she got on to the bed. “Let me see your cunt.” “Oh I no, — don’t, — I won’t.” My suspicion came back; with my prick out I still hesitated. “I’ve not washed myself since you did me”, said she. “Well wash your cunt.” She took my basin, and washed herself. Then I had a look at her cunt, and again fucked her. Lord how she enjoyed it, and so did I, that big coarse woman; but she would not let me look long at her belly, perhaps marked through child-birth. She had thickish, lightish brown hair on her quim; it was a cock-squeezer too, and how wet it got in our copulation. I remarked it to her. She said, “I’m wet, and no mistake.”

I lay on her afterwards, my prick dangling against her cunt, and talked. Her husband was an artizan away on a job, she kept the house, and let lodgings; her husband was half his time away. “You’ve seen the girl who was in this room,-I recollect you, — I’ve seen you in the street more than once, — You’ve been with the woman opposite. I didn’t mean anything till you spoke and stopped, but I’d been dying for it, been wishing almost I were gay; the gal opposite had just gone in with a man, and I was wondering what my husband was doing, and just then you stopped and looked, and I thought I’d let you. Do it again”, said she slipping her hand between our bellies, and grasping my ballocks. And I did it again, as soon as I could.

“I’ve never had another man but you and my own man I’ll swear, — ask in the street, they will all say I’m respectable,-but don’t tell on me. I frig myself almost every day, if you must know, but that don’t satisfy me, a woman who’s had three children,-if I’m in the family way now, I’m in a mess, but I’m not so much to blame, am I ?-think, three months away from your own man !—but I tell you as you spoke to me I was a dying for it, — the girl who was here in this room used to say, ‘Well Mrs. ***, you are a fool to pass your life almost without a you know what.’ Well I was a dying for it, and she and lodgers would always tell me what the men did to them; and yet I never have had but you.” So we lay talking for a time, she answering my questions, and sometimes volunteering remarks; but never leaving go of my prick, and every now and then saying, “Ain’t you a fine man !—you just are a fine young man!”

There were noises at the street-door, men were talking, a smell of tobacco reached us. “It’s the upstairs back”, said she, “he will stop there till he have smoked two pipes, so for God’s sake don’t leave”, — and she sunk her voice lower. “Oh ! I must put out the light.” Saying so, off the bed she got, blew it out, and got on to the bed again. There we lay quite another hour, speaking in whispers, feeling each other’s privates, never washing, the spunk drying up as our hands fumbled about each other, I talking baudy, and telling her what gay women would do, she telling me she knew all about it, for her ground-floor lodgers were always gay. I asking questions about herself, heard that my cock was about the same size as her husband’s. Wondering at the tightness of her cunt, as she had had three children, she said that the size was the same as before she had had a man. If she got in the family way she would be in a mess; she did not think she should, as she had not quite done suckling. She did not know how she managed to keep so firm and plump, for she had meat only twice a week. “What then?” “Potatoes and herrings”, — did not know what she would do, if she did not get another lodger soon to pay the rent, — she often could not pay for a meal.

About two o’clock in the morning there were lumping boots going upstairs. The lodger had gone to bed. We lighted the candle, I washed (there was still no towel), and no sooner had I washed than she laid hold of, and kissed my prick, stooping to do so,-and then we fucked again.

We parted, she took my money. “I will keep this”, she said, “it will help me.” I said it was for her. She let me quietly out, begging me never to mention what had taken place between us to any gal in the street. “Though they won’t believe you if you do, for I have a good character. I’ve seed you often go in with them.” I had fancied no one ever saw me in that low street, and wondered if any other person had recognised me there.

I never had her again. Once or twice I saw her at the street-door, but so soon as she saw me she rushed in-doors, and I had too many fresh and younger women at hand to care about her. Here was a case of a woman who could not restrain herself, owing to the long absence of her legitimate doodle, and gave way to her uncontrollable passions for that night. That was the only conclusion I could come to.

Then soon afterwards I had the clap. Mary cried, and declared she had not given it me, and I am sure she had not. Then almost for the first time I began to use condoms, or French letters, as they are called. I did not like them, but had suffered so much from gonorrhoea, that I carried them in my purse in readiness.

My experience with this poor class of women was soon considerable. Satiated, sick of them, yet I continued to frequent them for the simple carnal pleasure of coition. There was no sentiment about it, no liking for the women, for though their manners sometimes amused me, they more frequently shocked me, and the poverty of some distressed me; but I had no money for choicer entertainment. My vigour was great, my pleasure in copulation almost maddening, a cunt was a cunt, and I got my pleasure and relief up it, what-ever its owner might have been. A sensuous imagination aided me. When once my prick was up a woman she was for the time more or less invested with charms, and her imperfections forgotten. I used to shut my eyes, and fancy I was stroking a houri with the finest limbs and ivory flesh, and could fancy all this up to the moment of ejaculation, I fancied thighs and cunt which were not those of the woman who was at that moment doing her best to please me. There were occasions when the women when naked revolted me, my prick refused to stand, and I departed without copulating, but those occasions with this class of women are not worth noting. I have been subject to this sudden revolt and prostration, sometimes even when the woman was most beautiful. Nervousness, fear, some sudden dislike, and even most ridiculous reasons have caused it.

I should have mentioned that gradually it had taken hold of my mind that my prick was a very small one. How this notion first arose I cannot quite trace, I certainly had it in a degree when a youth, and it be-came stronger owing to the remarks of some French women. The men I saw fucking at Camille’s had very large pricks, and no doubt they were selected on that account for exhibition; but I did not know that then, and used mentally to compare mine with theirs, and also with those of some of my former schoolfellows, and to my disadvantage. With many harlots of both high and low class I had talked about size; each told me of men who had big pricks, rarely of those who had small ones. Experience has since taught me that harlots like talking about big pricks, for size affects their imagination agreeably. Of ridiculously small ones they make mention for a laugh, the average sizes pass without their notice. I used to ask them how mine compared with the big ones they spoke of, and got at last into my head the erroneous opinion about my own machine. At times I would produce it with an apologetic remark. “My prick’s not a very big one, is it?”-and was much pleased when the woman’s reply was complimentary. I know now from the inspection of many men’s, that mine compares very favourably with the average, and is larger than most; but for many years I was of a very different opinion, and at times was almost ashamed of my prick, so much so that when a woman said it was as large as most, and many said that. I did not believe them, still less did I believe them when they said it was a handsome prick; then I thought they were hum-bugging me.

Now as I add these few words written years after the foregoing, and after having seen some dozens of pricks, both languid and erect, I know what they said was true, and I know that there is a size, a form, a curve, and a colour in pricks which makes some handsomer than others, just as undoubtedly there are ugly and handsome cunts.