“Oh! here is your money”, said I putting down a sovereign on the mantle-piece. She broke into a quiet laugh. “I did not mean that”, she remarked. “Let me feel you.” “Get away”, said she impatiently, and turning she took off her bonnet. I then saw she had thick and nearly if not quite black hair, and recollect that I noticed these points just in the order I have narrated them. Then she leaned her arm on the mantle-piece again, and looked at me quietly, her mouth slightly open, and I stood looking at her without speaking, my sperm fermenting in my balls; but I was slightly bothered, almost intimidated by her cold manner, — a manner so unlike what I usually met with in strumpets.
“You have beautiful legs.” “So they say.” “Let me see them.” She laid down on the sofa, her back to the light, without uttering a word. I threw off coat and waistcoat, and sitting at the foot of the sofa threw up her dress to her knees; higher I tried, but she resisted. Then my fingers felt her cunt, and the delight of the feel and sight of her beautiful limbs overwhelmed me. “Take off your things, — let me see you undressed, — you must be exquisite.” My hands roved all about her bum, belly and thighs, and just seeing the flesh above her garters I fell to kissing it, and kissed upwards till the aroma of her cunt met my nostrils, and its thicket met my lips and mingled with my moustache, which I then wore, though so few men then did. I fell on my knees by the side of her, kissing, feeling, and smelling; but she kept her thighs close together, and pushed her petticoats over my head whilst I kissed, so that I saw but little of her beauties. Then excited almost to madness by my amusement I rose up. “Oh ! come to the bed, — come.” She lay quite still.
“No, — do it here, — leave me alone, — I won't have my clothes pulled up, — I won't be pulled about, — if you want it have me, and have done.” “Well get on to the bed.” “I shan't.” “I can't do it on the sofa.” “Well I'm going then.” “You shan't till I have had you, — only let me see your thighs.” “There then”, — and up went her clothes half-way. “Higher,” “I shan't.” Now my prick was out. “Get on the bed, — I won't do it here, — take your things off.” “I shan't.” “You shall.” All was said by her in a determined way, but without signs of temper.
She rose without saying another word, I think I see now as I write, her exquisite legs in beautiful silk stockings as they showed when getting off the sofa, and getting on to the bed. “But I want your clothes off.” “I won't take them off, I'm in a hurry, — I never do.” “Oh I you must.” “I won't,-now come and do what you want to do, — I'm in a hurry.” She lifted her clothes just high enough to show the fringe of her cunt, and opened her thighs a little. I thrilled with lewd delight as I saw them, and mounted her, laid between them, and inserted my prick. Ah ! at my first shove almost I was spending in her.
“Oh ! lay quiet dear, I've only been up you a second.” “No, — get off, and let me wash.” I resisted, but she uncunted me, and got off the bed quickly. “Now don't come near while I wash, — I can't bear a man looking at me washing myself.” I insisted, for I was longing to see the form I had scarcely yet had a glimpse of. Putting down the basin she pulled the bed-curtains round her to hide her whilst she slopped her quim. I would not be rude, and saw nothing. Then on went her bonnet. “Are you going first, or I?” said she. “I shall wait as long as you will.” “Then I will go first”, — and she was going away when I stopped her.
“When will you again meet me?” “Oh ! when out at all, I am up to one o'clock in Regent Street.” “Where do you live?” “I shan't say, — good bye.” “No, — wait, — come to me this afternoon.” “I can't.” “This evening.” She hesitated. “I can't stay long if I do.” “Well an hour and a half.” “Perhaps.” “Will you take off your clothes then?” “No, — good bye, I am in a hurry.” “Meet me at seven o'clock to-night. —do.” “No.” “At eight then.” “Well I will be here expecting you, — but I shan't stop long.” “Will you let me see your form up to your waist?” “Oh! I hate being looked at”, — and off she went, leaving me in the room.
I dined at my Club, and was in a fever of lust all day. “Will she come?” for she had only half promised. Half-an-hour before the time I was at the house, and had the same room again. It was handsome throughout, had a big four-post bed with handsome hangings (this was thirty years ago mind) on one side of the room on another side by a partition was a wash-hand stand of marble, against the wall on the opposite side a large glass just at the level of the bed; at the foot of the bed a large sofa opposite to the fire; over the chimney-piece a big glass sloping forwards, so that those sitting or lying on the sofa could see themselves reflected in it; in the angle of the room by the windows a big cheval-glass which could be turned in any direc- tion, two easy-chairs and a bidet, the hangings were of red damask, two large gas-burners were over the chimney-piece angles. It was the most compact, comfortable baudy house bed-room I have perhaps ever been in, although by no means a large room. They charged seven and six for its use, and twenty shillings for the night. Scores of times I have paid both fees.
I noticed all this, and that a couple could see their amatory amusements on the bed, on the sofa, or any-how in fact, by aid of the cheval and other glasses. I was delighted with the room, but in a fever of anxiety lest the lady should not come. I walked about with my prick out, seeing how I looked in the glasses, laid on the bed, and noticed how it looked in the side-glass, squatted on the sofa, glorying in the sight of my balls and stiff-stander. Then I had a sudden fear that she would think my prick small; what put it into my head I never could exactly say, I used when at school to fancy mine was smaller than that of other boys, and some remark of a gay woman about its size made me most sensitive on the topic. I was constantly asking the women if my prick was not smaller than other men's. When they said it was a very good size, — as big as most, — I did not believe them, and I used when I pulled it out, to say in an apologetic tone, “Let's put it up, there's not much of it.” “Oh! it's quite big enough”, one would say. “I've seen plenty smaller”, would say another. But still the idea clung to me, that it was not a prick to be in any way proud of, — which was a great error. But I have told of this weakness more than once before, I think.
I recollect well that night fearing she would think my prick contemptible, and it pained me much, for I :4Y SECRET LIFE was hooked, although I did not know it. I brushed my hair, and made myself inviting with a desire to please her, without thinking that I was taking the trouble to do so for a woman who was going to be fucked for twenty shillings, and whom I now know did not then care how I looked, or who I was, long as she got her money as soon as she could, and got rid of me to make way for another man, or to go and spend what she had earned.
She did not keep her time. I kept listening, and peeping out as I heard footsteps and saw couples bent on sexual pleasure going up the stairs, and heard them overhead walking about. This and the excitement at the recollection of my instantaneous spend between her magnificent thighs, my pulling about my prick and contemplating it in the glass, the moving about of the various couples made me in such a state of randiness that I could scarcely keep from frigging. A servant who had noticed my peeping came in, and begged I would not look out, for customers did not like it. Did they know where my lady lived? and would they send for her? They did not. Then the servant came to say I had been an hour in the room, — did I mean to wait any longer? I knew what that meant, and was about to say I would pay for the room twice, when I heard a heavy, slow tread, and the lady's face appeared.
I grumbled at her delay, she took my complaints quietly, she could not come earlier, was all she said. She pulled off her bonnet, put it on the chair, turned round, leaned her arm on the mantle-piece, and stared at me again in a half-vacant way with her mouth slightly open, just as in the morning. I gave her very little time to stare, for I had my hand on her cunt in no time, and nearly spent in my trowsers as I touched it. She tried the same game, — she would not be pulled about, — she would not let her cunt be looked at, — if I meant to do it, do it, and have done with it. My blood rose. “I'd be damned if I would, — nor pay, nor anything else unless she took her gown off. So she took it off laughing, and laid down on the sofa. Not on the bed. No she would not. Then damned if I would do it (though I was nearly bursting). Again she laughed, and then got on to the bed. I saw breasts of spotless purity, and exquisite shape, bursting out over the corset, threw up the petticoats, saw the dark hair at the bottom of the belly, and the next instant a thrust, a moment's heaving, — quietness, — another thrust, — a sigh, — a gush of sperm, — and again I had finished with but a minute's complete sexual enjoyment only.