My Secret Life (79 page)

Then came the letch — “Let me gamahuche you.” — “I won’t you beast.” — “You did the other day.” — “Be content then, I won’t now” — and she would not. But I kissed her thighs, buried my nose in the curls of her motte, begging, entreating her, till at length she fell back, saying, “I don’t like it you beast.” — Her thighs opened and crossed my arms, whilst clasping her ivory buttocks my mouth sought her delicious scented furrow, and licked it with exquisite delight. She at first cried out often, “Leave off you beast.” Then suddenly she submitted. I heard a sigh, she clutched the hair of my head — “Beast — Aha — leave off — beast — aherr” — she sobbed out. A gentle tremulous motion of her belly and thighs, then they closed violently on my head, pinching and almost hurting me, — she tore at my hair, then opened wide her thighs — a deep sigh escaped her, and she had spent with intense pleasure. [That vibratory motion of thighs and belly, increasing in force as her pleasure crisis came, I have never noticed in any other woman, when gamahuching them, tho most quiver their bellies and thighs a little as their cunt exudes its juices.]

With cock stiff as a rod of iron, with delight at having voluptuously gratified her, wild almost with erotic excitement, — “I’ve licked your cunt dry — I’ve swallowed your spending my darling” (it was true), I cried rapturously. “Let me lick your cunt again.” — “You beast, you shan’t.” — But as she denied it, lustful pleasure was still in her eyes. — “Let me.” — “No, fuck me.” — At once I laid by her side, at once she turned to me — grasped my pego, and in soft voice said, “Fuck me.” — “You’ve just spent.” — “Yes — fuck me — go on.” — “You can’t want it.” — “Yes, I do, fuck me, fuck me,” — she said imperiously. I didn’t then know her sexual force, her voluptuous capabilities, did not believe her. But I wanted
her,
and she was ready. On to her sweet belly I put mine, plunged my pego up her soft, smooth cunt, and we fucked again a long delicious fuck, long yet furious, for though my balls were not so full, I felt mad for her, talked about her beauty whilst I thrust, and thrust, and cried out baudy words, till I felt her cunt grip and she, “You beast, — beast, — Oh — fuck me — — you beast — aher” — and all was done, I’d spent and she with me.

And as she spent, I noticed for the first time on her face, an expression so exquisite, so soft in its voluptuous delight, that angelic is the only term I can apply to it. It was so serene, so complete in its felicity, and her frame became so tranquil, that I could almost fancy her soul was departing to the mansions of the blest, happy in its escape from the world of troubles amidst the sublime delights of fucking.

Then she wished me to go. But only after a long chat, during which she laid all the time in her chemise, her lovely legs, her exquisite breasts showing, she was curious and I told her more about myself than I’d ever told a Paphian. “When shall I see you again?” — “Most likely never.” — “Yes I shall.” — I told her it was impossible. “Yes, come and sleep with me some night.” — Laughing, I said, — “I can’t do it more than three times.” — “I’ll bet I’ll make you.” — Then with sad heart, and almost tears in my eyes, I repeated that I should not see her again. — “Yes — you will — look — I’m going to the races to morrow” — and she showed me a splendid dress. — “I’m going with
^***
of the 40th.” How I envied him, how sad I felt when I thought of the man who would pass a day and night with that glorious beauty, that exquisite cunt at hand for a day and night.

She was right. I went after a time to the Argyle solely to see her, and visited her twice more, when she let me fuck her till not a drop of sperm would rise from my ballocks. Then I told her that I couldn’t (I was then a little hard up) see her again — yet one
night
(I’d visited her previously in the
afternoon
) I told her I had no money, would she trust me. — “Come along all right” — so I went home with her and a few days after called and paid her in the afternoon, and fucked her. Then for months, I went not near her, not even to places where I could look at her, much as I longed to do so.

About flagellation. — A peep thro a key hole at Nelly’s.
—
A lubricious poke in an overflowing cunt.
—
A little bitch missed.
—
More manuscript destroyed.
—
Retrospective and prospective.
—
Doings at a French lapunar.
—
Luxembourg Elaine.
—
The sous-maitresse.

 

In all my amorous adventures, I up to this time had scarcely thought about the effects of whipping the buttocks of male or female, to excite lust or give sexual pleasure. — About this time, either I had read of, or heard this lustful provocative talked about, I cannot say which, for there is nothing in my notes to tell, altho I began to refer to birching, and find that of Paphians both of high and low quality, I asked if they’d either witnessed or performed the operation, or had themselves been performed on. All, young and old had heard of it — few had witnessed it — one or two said they’d flogged men, and one that she had been flogged by a woman for a lady’s delectation. They had birched her till her buttocks bled, and she was paid handsomely for submitting to it. No man was present, it was a lady’s letch, and the lady was masked. — This story I did not then believe, but do so now.

Thinking much of this erotic device I sought Camille. I don’t recollect having ever before talked with her about flagellation, tho it’s scarcely possible that I have not done so, — having conversed with her about all things erotic. She (now years older) smiled, produced birches, and also bunches of string with knots in them, with which she said she flogged the bums of one or two of her friends. That some of their backsides bled, some not, that they all got good cock-stands and spent freely by this backside punishment. And she offered to try on me if I like, which I declined.

Then not quite satisfied I went to Nelly L**1*e, and asked her. She had clients whom she flagellated with birches, and shewed me the rods. Frank as Camille, she told me all about it, how one of her men never got an erection by any other process but by birching, and that without any act or volition on his part, without his touching, or any one touching his prick, he spent copiously under the operation. He was a man between thirty and forty, — and this I didn’t quite believe.

All seemed most incredible, so I visited her again one night solely to complete my information upon the subject, and at length stripped, laid upon the bed, and let her birch my backside — bore a few blows, but the pain became so great that I made her leave off. — Nor did I have a stiff stander in consequence, tho I waited to see what the heat on my bum would do for me in procuring it. After an hour, at the sight of her fully haired quim, up rose my prick at once, and as usual in that receptacle, roomy as it now had become, and as no doubt I have told — I had a complete pleasure, but not thro birching.

[I did not apparently think much more about flagellation then, but in a few years I was to be by chance a witness of many birchings, have seen bleeding male rumps, and have seen the wales on women’s bums who had been birched. This will be told hereafter.]

She told me on that night I recollect, that she had seen in her own rooms, a woman, flogged by a man who made wales, on her bum, from some of which blood started. Directly he saw that he ceased birching her, frigged himself, spent over her rump, gave her five pounds and went away. — [That I didn’t believe but now believe that lust will breed most extraordinary erotic eccentricities.] That in half an hour after the woman grew wild with lust, the birching heated her buttocks, and then that the heat flew to her cunt, and she frigged herself half a dozen times till exhausted. — If this be true, it shews that birching does stimulate both prick and cunt to action, but it cannot make or store up semen in the male — sperm is the only true source of copulative power.

It was a long time since I had seen a man and woman copulating — nor had I as far as I recollect, thought of seeing any such sight again, when one fine afternoon two or three months after the cunt parade, I called on Nelly, who was still living on the third floor of the house where she had two rooms — a bedroom and another which was her kitchen. — Leading out of each other: each room had also a door on to the landing of the stairs — I knocked. — “Who’s there?” — there was a mumbling and a man’s voice. “It’s I” — a pause. — “Wait a minute and I’ll come.” — said Nelly who knew my voice, and almost at the same time appeared at the door in her chemise. Seeing me she came right out on to the landing holding the door close.

In a whisper. — “I’m so sorry — I have a friend — can’t you come back in an hour?” — “No — send him away.” — “I can’t till he’s had me, he is a married man and so good to me — he was just going to do it as you knocked, and will soon go.” — “Let me see him do it to you?” — the desire came thro me like lightning. — “I can’t, I don’t like.” — My blood heated to boiling point at the idea. I promised much money, and she consented after hesitation (all said in a whisper. “Wait here.” — Going in and closing the door she went thro the bedroom into the other room, the kitchen, the door of which as said also opened on to the stairs, and let me in. — My brain was now filled with lewedness. “Show me his prick — I won’t pay you unless you let me see your cunt full of his spunk after — don’t wash — don’t move if you can help it after he’s fucked you till I have seen your cunt — make his prick stiff for me to see, — turn him towards me.” — “It will be stiff enough,” — said Nell with a grin. — “But don’t look thro the keyhold directly, wiat till you hear us talking — go down now a few steps, making a noise as if you were leaving, and then come back here softly.” — I went out of the room and returning bolted the door, — Nell went back into the bedroom to her friend, fastening the kitchen door which led out of it on her side — with a small bolt.

I knew the door well and the key hole also, having more than once looked thro it, and asked if any one (jokingly) was looking at me when fucking. — Clothes usually hung over the keyhole on the kitchen side as well as on the bedroom side — I took care always that there was no peep hole, not then liking to be looked at when fucking, but thro the key hole knew I could see the bed and half the bedroom. — It was a fine post for viewing the operation. It was a bright day and the white blinds in the bedroom windows shut out but little light. — Clothes hung over the key hole, indeed almost covered the door on the kitchen side where I was, and had he been suspicious and looked thro would have seen nothing. My lubricity would not let me wait, and the instant almost that I heard the bolt shot, I applied my eye cautiously to the key hole. There were no clothes hiding the hole now on the sitting room side, she knew my eye would be investigating every thing almost before she’d got back to him.

He was sitting on the side of the bed about eight feet from the key hole, and my eye, his trowsers down, his shirt tucked up, his big prick nearly at cock stand size flopping on his thigh, his finger and thumb near the tip of it. He was a handsome tall man of about thirty five, I could hear every thing they said for there was but little carriage traffic in the street.

Said he, “It was a man wasn’t it?” — “Yes, he will come back in ten minutes — I’m so sorry dear, but he is such a good friend, and I thought you would not mind for once going soon — he’s going off by rail and I don’t like him to go without seeing me.” — “All right,” said the man good naturedly. “If he had been a minute later I should have been up you.” — Both laughed then. — “Who’s in that room? there is some one.” — “Oh, it’s the old woman who does my washing — let’s do it
—
I don’t want him to meet you as you go down stairs.” — She then dropped off her chemise, went to his side, and took hold of his prick. He pushed his hand round her bum and between her buttocks. She opened her legs, and I saw his fingers approaching her cunt from behind. She pulled up his shirt which had slipped down, and tucked it up in a roll above his navel. — His prick was now standing up like a scaffold pole, — a big one — feeling her had erected it fully.

Then Nelly pulled the prepuce up and down for my edification. He got up, and his trowsers slipped all down his legs — Nell put herself on to the bed kneeling, and I could see the nick of her cunt in the black hairy setting, as plainly as I could my own fingers, tho but sideways. He opened her thighs more, pulled the cunt lips apart, and looked at it, his prick throbbing violently, rose up and fell a couple inches at each lustful pulsation. — Then up into Nelly’s quim he drove it, gave a few quick shoves, then pulled it out slowly just to the tip, looked down, plunged it up again violently and did that two or three times, looking at his prick and opening her buttocks with his hands each time. Then he pulled it out altogether — “The other way,” said he — Nell knew, turned on her back on the side of the bed, and up into her cunt went his prick — he holding on to her by her thighs, and pulling her to him. — A few shoves, a very low sigh or two, and he was done, had emptied his ballocks, and was laying over her bending and kissing her, whilst she was holding his shirt up high above his arse for me to see that — I saw all this side ways — saw every wriggle — heard every word — and every sigh — every murmur of pleasure.