When I had buttoned up, she produced a book full of baudy pictures, of which I then had seen but few; and I went a second time, to see the book rather than her. Looking over it, she pointed out to me, with a laugh, several pictures of men putting their pricks into women's arse-holes, and into the rumps of other men. Having never before seen such pictures, and having no idea of the operation, I felt modest and turned to others; but she so regularly, as we turned over the leaves, pointed out this class that my sense of shame gave way to curiosity; and, not believing, asked if it was possible to do it so. “Lord yes,” said she.
“Does it not hurt?” said I. “Not if properly done,' she replied, and went on to say it was delicious, some men thought; and she talked altogether in a very knowing way about it; told me how it was best to grease the hole first, then the prick, and to shove gently, and went on so that I said on a sudden, “Why, you have done it, i think.” “Yes, but only with a particular friend of mine who is very fond of it, and so am I; it is better than the other.”
I felt shocked, bewildered, and excited. The subject dropped, but she sat feeling me, slipping her finger under my balls, and pressing my arse-hole with her finger. I prepared to fuck. She suggested she should kneel with her buttocks towards me, so that she could feel my balls when my prick was up her. I assented, and her bumcheeks were presented to me. Excited by her conversation and her hints, I looked curiously at her large slit, and then at her bum-hole; I touched the latter, and she drove her bum back upon my finger with a laugh. I did not take her hint, but drove my prick into her quim and pushed in the regular fashion. Thinking of the pictures excited me, and without knowing what I said, I suddenly pulled it out, saying, “Let me put it into the other.” “Not tonight,” said she, “put your thumb a little way in, your nail is quite short (she had noticed that I used to bite my thumb-nails short).” I instantly did, the next moment spent, and dropped over her back, waiting for the last drop of sperm to rim off into her.
Her hints, her pictures, of which she had actually scores, stirred my curiosity; her manner disgusted .no, yet my brain seemed affected. Is it possible, thought I, that a man's prick can go in there? - Impossible. And yet she says she has had it done to her, and my thumb went in easily enough. The more I thought and the more I reflected how a hard turd hurt me sometimes in passing it, the more I was puzzled about the intense pleasure which she said the operation gave. To solve my doubts (although I had determined not), I went to her again, and saw the pictures. She again talked about them, until, scarcely knowing what I was doing, “Will you let me?” I asked. “Yes, if you do what I tell you.” I consented. “Don't talk loud,” said she, “it will never do to let any one know what we are at.” Our voices dropped to a whisper, whilst by her advice I pulled off trousers and drawers, and she stripped stark naked.
Then she carefully greased my prick with pomatum, and put some on her arse-hole; it was the work of a minute, not a word was said. She then, stark naked, sat by the side of me on the sofa, began fondling and kissing me, took my hands in hers and rubbed my fingers on her clitoris, half frigged herself with my fingers, I let her do what she liked Then she turned round. “Put it in,” she said when her rump was towards me, “then give me your hand, and don't push till I tell you.” Her arse-hole was at the level of my prick as I stood by the side of the sofa, my machine was like a rod of iron, my brains seemed on fire, I felt I was going to do something wrong, dreaded it, yet determined to do it. “Put it in, slowly,” said she in a whisper. The hole opened, felt tight, but to my astonishment almost directly my whole prick was hidden in it without pain to me or any difficulty. “Give me your hand.” I did. Again she began frigging herself with my fingers. “Rub, rub, push gently,” she said, and I tried, but was getting past myself. “Now,” said she with a spasmodic sort of half cry, half grunt. I felt my prick squeezed as in a vise, I shoved or rather scarcely began to do so when I discharged a week's reserve up her rectum. My brain whirled with excitement, whilst she, leaning over the pillows on the sofa, kept breathing hard and half snorting like a pig, still frigging herself with my fingers.
As my senses returned, I could scarcely believe where my prick was; excitement still kept it stiff, but desire had left me. I pulled it out with an indescribable horror of myself.
“Wasn't it delicious?” said she. “I like it, don't you? you may always do it so.” What I replied I know not; I washed, dressed and got out of the house as soon as I could. When in the street, I was sick. I ran off, fearing some one would see me, got into a Hackney coach and drove in the wrong direction; then got out and went a round-about way home, fearing some one was following to upbraid or expose me. I scarcely slept that night for horror of myself, never went up the street again for years, and never passed its end without shuddering, have no recollection of having had pleasure, or of any sensation whatever; all was dread to me. And so ended that debauch; one I was deliberately led into by that woman, having never thought of such doings before as possible, or at all, as far as I can recollect.
Chapter XII
Sarah and Susan. • At the key-hole. • A village fair. • Up against a wall. • An unknown woman. • Clapped again. • My deaf relative. • Some weeks felicity. • Sarah's secret. • Susan's history. • Sarah with child. • Amidst black berries. • Susan's virginity. • Susan with child. • Sisters' disclosures. A row. • A child born. • Emigration.
I had now passed my twentieth year. The new servants were sisters (how many times have sisters fallen to me!) ; the eldest who was cook was named Sarah ; the youngest, Susan. Sarah was about twenty-six, Susan nineteen or twenty. I carefully arranged the key in the key-hole of their door the first night, but saw nothing for two or three nights. Then oh ! fortune again. They rose later than my mother liked; she came up to their room one morning and found them locked in, so she took away the key. Now I had as far as the key-hole permitted, a fair field, but then clothes hanging upon pegs on the door were often in my way; yet I was so persistent in looking when they went to bed, and arose, that I saw a great deal. How cunning I had got; I had filed and oiled the lock and hinges of my door and theirs, so that I could close and open them noiselessly, used to stoop daily with my eye to their key-hole, stepping from my room with naked feet. I was nearly caught several times, but never quite. It now seems wonderful that I was not.
I was so demure and quiet in talk about women always, and had kept myself so circumspectly, that my mother never had the least suspicion of me, — but in all matters of love and intrigue, mother always seemed to me as innocent as the babe unborn.
For all that, my mother just then, and to my dismay, seeing that my little games would be much interfered with, said I better change my room, and have one on the first floor. Mrs. *** had remarked, that being a man now I ought not to sleep on the servants' floor. “As you please, — it's one flight of stairs less for me, but Mrs. *** is a fool,” I cried. “And which room?” “Your sister's. Annie will always be with her aunt adopted, and Jane is only at home in the holidays.” But I would not be pushed into a small room; where was my tub to stand? Where my books? I must have the spare room. There was much altercation, I made my mother cry by saying that when of age I would get chambers away from her, and into the spare room I moved.
It was next to my mother's. Installed there I did nothing but complain of its inconvenience. I smoked incessantly in it. The smell got into mother's bed-room, and she could not bear tobacco smoke. I made a noise when she was in bed, — that annoyed her. I did all in a quiet way to make her as uncomfortable as possible. An uncle and aunt who stopped with us when in town, just then came from the country; and not liking my sister's room, went to an hotel, which wounded mother considerably, so she said I had better go upstairs again. I refused point blank; being down there I would remain, and so managed, that she thought I went back as a favour to her, and much against my will; but was I not glad! — and got to my spying immediately.