Chapter XVI
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 trowsers enough to get out my prick. Keeping still up her, I thrust my hand into my trowsers 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 vigor, 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.