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Authors: Anonymous

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BOOK: My Secret Life
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Again I then stroked H
***
who excited by wine and lewed to her marrow made Camille feel her buttocks whilst fucking, she grasping Camille’s motte, or feeling her buttocks whilst she was handling my stones. “What a lovely skin,” cried H. as she felt Camille’s buttocks. Indeed she had still that exquisite skin and her pretty, tight, deep cunt. Never were two more lovely skinned women together. I then fucked Camille at the request of both of them, which finished the night. Taking Camille home in my cab I paid her handsomely. She could do nothing but talk of the unparalleled charms of H. I never brought them together again. H.’s letch was satisfied, and she did not want gay women.
I told her one evening how I had turned N**l*e L**l*e’s cunt into a purse, and she wondered if her own would hold as much. I had doubts, for it did not feel to me as large inside as the other woman’s did, but I had H
***
naked one day and tried. The silver brought was carefully washed, and the argental cunt stuffing began. I was so delighted and she also with the experiment, that I prolonged the work, not putting in five and ten shillings at a time as I did with the other, when my lustful curiosity was to ascertain a fact, but a shilling or two at a time only, feeling them of her cunt, then glorying in seeing her exquisite form promenading with the silver in her. When about forty shillings had disappeared up the belly rift, I put my prick up her, and felt with its sensitive tip the difference between a shilling which it struck against, and the soft round compressive end of her cuntal avenue. She was as pleased with me at that trick as I was. I nearly spent, excited by my operations, and now with the idea of spending against a shilling up a cunt, but didn’t — wouldn’t.
I resumed the silver stuffing, she her ambulations, and it is extraordinary that within a shilling or two, she held in her cunt the same number that L**l*e had. She several times walked up and down the room with her cunt so full, that I could see the silver when I gently opened one lip. — The grip and tenacity of her Paphian temple seemed truly wonderful. — What muscular force, what a nut cracker! — But that indeed I knew, for her cunt was perfect in every way, a pudenda of all the virtues, powers, and beauties for fucking, or doing anything voluptuous with

a supreme pleasure giver.
Then over the basin she squatted to void the argentiferous stream. It was beautiful to see her squat, her thighs then rounded into the fullest, loveliest form, it always delighted me to see her in that attitude washing her cunt or micturating. The silver tumbling out of her gaping hirsute cleft, with a clatter against the basin, made us laugh, some refused to quit the lubricious nook in which it found itself, I felt up for it, and she at last by muscular contraction of her cunt aided by her fingers, got it all out. Then with a syringe she purified the receptacle, we went to the bed, and after a little mutual fingering, fucked, — the baudy trick just finished enhancing our sexual delight.
The silver was washed and stored away. “When you pay any one, tell them that the silver’s been up your cunt.” — “You beast, I will.” The servants and a female friend — for she had now a female friend — were told of this. We talked about it all the evening, and she put one shilling well up for me to touch with my prick which I did, but did not spend whilst the shilling was in its lubricious receptacle. [I wish now I had, it would have been something to remember.] Eighty-six or -seven shillings did her cunt hold.
CHAPTER LIII
Frisky spinster Edith again.

Pitch and toss at pudendas.

Naked harlots scrambling.

A Hylas suggested.

Eugêne, the used-up sodomite.

Naked amusements.

Curiosity gratified.

Mutual feebleness.

A masculine sixty-nine.

Sappho.

An erotic triad.

Double minetting.

Eugêne dismissed as not fit.

Pleasant conversation.

Thumb-frigging a clitoris.

My erotic philosophy.

Foolish prejudices.

A demi-mondaine on cock sucking.

Three men to one woman. — An orgy. — About baudy house peep-holes.

A hairy-rumped Spanish equestrienne.
 
Then I resumed my acquaintance with the frisky spinster, again I met her in the daytime, always lent her baudy books and photographs, and we had free talk. She seemed to desire to know every sexual habit of man with woman, particularly those with harlots. Nothing in my career has been so curious. — With widows and wives I’ve had risky talk, but with a young woman, born, bred, and educated a lady, have I used now the baudiest words, whilst she listened pleased and enquiring, but never once used such words herself. This also was generally in broad daylight and in four-wheel cabs. It stimulated me at last to try forcibly to feel her, and induce her to go to a house with me. — All was useless. — One day I said if she wouldn’t go, I’d fuck a woman directly I’d left her. — “Very well,” said she — I never got a feel higher than the calf of her leg and that she resisted unmistakably.
So I refused to meet her or lend her more books, yet there was a novelty, a stinging salacity in the meetings which pleased me much. Once or twice, I met her in society or at places of amusement, but always with her mother. What knowing glances we exchanged!
Then on my way to the sweet south, to get the sun in the months it’s denied us here, for a few days sojourn we stopped at
****
where again my resolution gave way, and I found myself at the friendly lapunar tho I was tired of it. Change again gave to me an erotic novelty.
Tired, worn out, ill, and alas getting older, I was nevertheless again at the lapunar one night, with my pocket quite full of franc pieces. Entering the saloon, there sat about twenty women, with boots and stockings on, otherwise naked as born — for those who had gauze about them threw it off directly I was seen. — Some lifted up a thigh, some pulling their quims open, all putting themselves into such voluptuous attitudes as they thought best suited to exhibit their charms. Sitting close together as they in the circle were, each tried to entice me to select her for my pleasure in erotic amusements.
I contemplated them for awhile. It was a lovely voluptuous sight, carnal, baudy, but what of that? Then taking out some francs I threw them up in the air. — With outstretched hands, the whole of the naked beauties rose to catch the silver shower, and the next moment were on the floor scrambling in a naked heap.
Such a mass of delicate flesh was there crowded — big bums sticking up, knocking against each other, white breasts flashing glimpses of dark hair in armpits, dark stripes between oval buttocks, hairy triangles of all colors at the bellies, all shewing and moving about in rapid combinations of form and grouping, a kaleidoscope of cunts, bums, and breasts. With chatter and laughter they scrambled till all the coin was grabbed. Then they rose to their seats, ready for another scramble.
Then it was, — “Ici” — “Monsieur,” — “Je n’ai rien gagné.” — “Voila.” — “Ici, regardez.” A dozen of them opening thighs wide, pulled open their cunts to entice me. I pitched franc after franc at cunts, sometimes hitting the mark, sometimes missing. The franc was hers at whose cunt I threw it, and another franc if I actually hit the gap. A babel of tongues. — “Ici” — “Ici, monsieur,” as each opened her thighs wider in hope of getting a franc pitched well between them. — The mistress and under mistress looked, on, standing at the back of me and laughing.
Then was a pause to chat, and look, — what a sight was the circle of naked women, all exquisitely clean and perfumed, with their hair well dressed and ornamented. — Silk stockings, white, black, grey, pink, blue, and red, mottes, with thatch like flax, and of every shade from brown to black — notches varying from pink to dark crimson, and from a delicate slightly haired slit with an imperceptible clitoris, to gaps with strong protuberances, and nymphæ large enough to frictionise another cunt, and give delight to both the wriggling embraces of tribadism. — On the words — “Open your cunts — catch” — open all went with shouts of laughter, and again the silver coins hit thighs, cunts, mottes and bellies, till with a last shower of silver in the air, all grouped scrambling on the floor. Again, bums, thighs, and breasts in a struggling mass of female form and loveliness, cunts more or less visible in all directions. What a picture it would have made, had it been possible to have fixed the group and photographed them.
Selecting one I went upstairs with her. “I’ll make my toilet” quoth she. — “Wash outside, but not up your cunt, I love a cunt with its natural juice — I’ll wash it myself” — laying her down, I with a wet towel wiped the face of her vulva from clitoris to anus only, and having told the chambermaid I wished a woman to come to me with her cunt full from fucking, amused myself with this girl — who had got four francs in the scramble out of the hundred I had thrown — till another woman was announced.
About this time in one of the confidential chats I had with my friend the
sous-maitresse,
she told me secretly that a young sodomite could be had there, but notice some hours before must be given, that my countrymen occasionally indulged that way — if known there, not otherwise — and that one had been so amusing himself that night. I declined, having no tastes that way, yet had a long conversation about the subject, for my curiosity was aroused. At times afterwards I had wished I could see this funny product of humanity, yet without any desire to avail myself of his services, passive or active. The matter had for some months passed out of my mind, but this night was evoked again by what occurred.
“Mademoiselle Sappho is engaged, shall she come in after,” said the chambermaid entering the room. I refused, being in no hurry, not being yet tired of the woman with whom I was amusing myself — besides my erectile power seemed in abeyance, the young lady having been frigging my tool uselessly. — Then after a minute’s reflection “I’ll see her, before she meets the man.” — Just then the
sous maitresse
appeared at the door, beckoned me, and on my going to her, whispered, there was a young man a “beau garçon” there, awaiting a monsieur who had never come, would I have him, all was quite safe. — With a spurt of lustful curiosity roused on the moment, I accepted, dismissed my companion, and was for a few minutes alone in a curiously excited state of expectation.
Whilst waiting in a feverish state of mind, one minute regretting, the next wishing him, and scarcely knowing what I should do when he appeared, wondering what sort of animal he was, whether if I should ask him to undress or to show me his genitals, how he would behave, and so on, all thoughts tumultuous, the door opened, the
sous-maitresse
appeared smiling, followed by Hylas as naked as he was born, who came in with a skipping, springy step, and a smile on his face like that of a ballet girl. I never was more astonished in my life.
He was a shortish, square built, well set up man, looking about twenty-one or -two years old, and had dark, crisp, curly hair, and dark eyes. His body was well fleshed, well shaped, plump indeed and as white as a woman’s. It had not a vestige of hair upon it. He had no moustache, or whiskers, or hair anywhere, excepting on his head, in his armpits, and round his prick, which was set in a neat little, crisp bush. I had expected to be shocked, I scarcely knew what, but had felt sure I should dislike him. In an instant all was changed, and I felt as pleased in contemplating his nude figure, as I have at seeing the Apollo Belvedere, and other glorious examples of Grecian skill in portraying the naked male. — Nor had I the slightest feeling of any other sort, all erotic notions had for the moment vanished. That soon changed, he stood for a minute staring at me, then without word or summons addressed to him, came and sat on the divan by the side of me, and put his arm round my neck. That instantly I dislodged and moved away, and for a minute we sat looking at each other.
Gradually, all sorts of lewed ideas arose in me. — Many a prick had I seen of late years, some of which I had longed to handle — a fugitive desire, gone as soon as formed — but then there were no opportunities. — Here one was. — Within a few feet of me sat a man of perfect form, indeed every way “beau garçon” and hanging out from the crisp little hairy thicket a nearly white, thickish prick about three inches long, with a “leetle” bit of red tip shewing.
Then desires rushed tumultuously through my brain — I longed to feel it, to frig it, stiffen it, see it spend, watch the sperm flow, see his vibrations of pleasure, hear his murmurs, watch his face as the ecstatic crisis overwhelmed him — and at once I grasped his prick, uncovered the tip and squeezed his balls. — Yet not a word had been spoken till he said, “Won’t you take your clothes off like me?” Obeying his suggestion, rapidly I put myself as naked as he was, eying him all the time whilst undressing but not speaking. — He laid himself along the divan, and gently pulling his prepuce up and down, smilingly watched me till I sat myself naked by his side, and seized again his prick. Then he seized mine - all dislike, all repulsion had gone for the minute, I seemed to be doing the most commonplace thing in the world — curiosity had me.
“Let’s go on the bed,” said he. Obeying, we placed ourselves side by side — our flesh touching everywhere — feeling each other’s cods — with seeming curiosity he
mine —
I
his
with curiosity mingled now with strange voluptuous wants. Then I mounted him as reminiscences rose up in my brain of doings with the young man at F
**
r
*
rs years ago. — Belly to belly, breast to breast, we were, I clasped his buttocks, laying between his thighs as if fucking a woman — our pricks and balls touching, laying in a heap together, neither prick stiff — then I moved with a fucking motion. “Look in the glass,” said he. — Turning both side ways, our genitals in a heap, the sight overwhelmed me, yet lust, a desire to Socratize him — as nearly as I can define my sensations — scarcely entered into the confused and lustful combinations, caused by my clasping him as if he were a woman.
BOOK: My Secret Life
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