My Secret Life, Volumes I. to III. - The Original Classic Edition. Anonymous Anonymous
I was
having too much accommodation for my money. That night we walked home, for I had no money for a coach, and barely enough to get us a glass
of beer and a biscuit; we were famished and fucked out, my mother had refused to give me money, and another aunt whom I had asked, said I was asking too often, and refused also.
Although we went to this baudy house, I always felt as if I was going
to be hanged when I did, and it was with difficulty I could make her
go; she called it a bad house, and it cost money. Something then occured which helped me, penniless as I was.
At the extreme end of our village were a few little houses, one stood with its side entrance up a road only partially formed, and without thoroughfare; its owner was a pew-opener, her daughter a dressmaker, who
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worked for servants and such like; they cut out things for servants, who in those days largely made their own dresses. Charlotte had things made there. At a fair held every year near us of which I shall have to tell
more, my fast friend, who had put me up to so much, and whom I forgot to say tried to get hold of Charlotte, I saw with the dressmaker's
daughter. Said he, talking to me next day, "She is jolly ugly, but she's good enough for a feel, I felt her cunt last night, and think she has been fucked (he thought that of every girl), her mother's a rum old gal too, she will let you meet a girl at her cottage, not whores, you know, but if they are respectable." "Is it a baudy house?" I asked. "Oh no,
it's quite respectable, but if you walk in with a lady, she leaves you
in the room together, and when you come out, if you just give her half a crown, she drops a curtesy, just as she does when she opens
the pew-doors and anyone gives her six pence, but she is quite
respectable--the clergyman goes to see her sometimes."
Charlotte asked to go out to a dressmaker, I met her as if by chance at the door, the old pew-opener asked if I would like to walk in and wait. I did. Charlotte came in after she had arranged about her dress. There was a sofa in the room, and she was soon on it; we left together, I
have two or three shillings (money went much further then), and the
pew-opener said, "You can always wait here when your young lady comes to see my daughter."
When we went a second time, she asked me if I went to St. Mary's Chapel (her Chapel). We went to her house in the day that time. When going away she said, "Perhaps you wont mind always going out first, for neighbours are so ill-natured." The old woman was really a pew-opener, her daughter
really a dressmaker, but she was glad to earn a few shillings, by
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letting her house be used for assignations of a quiet sort; she would not have let gay women in, from what I heard.
She had lived for years in the parish, and was thought respectable. She
had not much use of her house in that way, wealthy people going to town for their frolics,--town only being an hour's journey--and no gay women being in the village that I know of.
At this house, I spent Charlotte's third holiday with her, in a
comfortable bedroom. We stopped from eleven in the morning, till nine at night, having mutton chops and ale, and being as jolly as we
could be. We did nothing the whole day long, but look at each other's privates, kiss, fuck and sleep outside the bed. It was there she expressed curiosity about male emissions. I told her how the sperm spurted out, then discussing women's, she told me of the pleasure I had given her when fingering her in the manner described already; we
completed our explanations by my frigging myself to show her, and then my doing the same to her with my finger. I bungled at that, and think I hear her now saying, "No, just where you were is nicest." "Does it give you pleasure?" "Oh yes, but I don't like it that way, oh!--oh!--I am
doing it--oh!" I had no money that day, Charlotte had her wages, and
paid for everything, giving me her money to do so.
One day we laughed at having nearly been caught fucking in the privy.
"She must have a big bum, must Mary," said I, "to sit on that little seat at the privy." Said Charlotte, "She is a big woman, twice as big
as me, her bottom would cover the whole seat." This set us talking about
the cook, and as what I then heard affected me much at a future day, I
will tell all Charlotte said as nearly as I can recollect.
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"Of course I have seen her naked bit by bit--when two women are together
they can't help it, why should they mind--if you sit down to pee, you show your legs, and if you put on your stockings you show your thighs, then we both wash down to our waists, and if you slip off your chemise or nightgown you show yourself all over. Mary's beautiful from head to foot, one morning in the summer, we sleeping in the same bed, were very hot. I got out to pee, we had kicked all the clothes off, Mary was laying on her back with night-clothes above her waist fast asleep,
I could not help looking at her thighs, which were so large and
white--white as snow." "Had she much hair on her cunt?" said I. "What's that to you?" said she laughing, but went on: "Oh! twice as much as I have, and of a light brown." "I suppose her cunt is bigger than yours?" said I reflectively. "Well, perhaps it is," said Charlotte, "she is a
much bigger woman than me, what do you think?" I inclined to the opinion
it must be, but had no experience to guide me; on the whole we agreed that it was likely to be bigger.
"Then," said she, "I suppose some men have smaller things than yours?" I told her that as far as I knew they varied slightly, but only had knowledge of youthful pricks, and could not be certain whether they varied much when full grown or not. We went on about Mary. "I know I should like to be such a big, fine woman." "But" said I, "I don't like
light hair, I like dark hair on a cunt, light hair can't look well, I should think." "I like her," said Charlotte, "she is a nice woman, but often dull, she has no relatives in London, never says anything about them or herself, she used to have letters, and then often cried, she has none now; the other night she took me in her arms, gave me a squeeze
and said, 'Oh! if you were a nice young man now', then laughed and
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said, 'perhaps we would put our things together and make babies.' I was frightened to say anything, for fear she would find out I knew to much; I think she has been crossed in love."
I was twiddling Charlotte's quim as I was never tired of doing,
something in the sensation I suppose reminded her, for laughing she went on: "You know what you did to me the other night." "What?" said I not recollecting. "You know, with your finger." "Oh! frig." "Yes, well Mary does that; I was awake one night, and was quite quiet, when I heard Mary breathing hard, and felt her elbow go jog, jog, just touching my side,
then she gave a sigh, and all was quiet. I went to sleep, and have
only just thought of it." She had heard or felt this jog from the cook before, so we both concluded, that she frigged herself, Charlotte knew what frigging was.
"Do you recollect your mamma's birthday?" said Charlotte, "she sent us
down a bottle of sherry, the gardener was to have some, but did not;
so we were both a little fuddled when we went to bed. When Mary was undressed she pulled up her clothes to her hips, and looking at herself said, 'my legs are twice as big as yours.' Then we made a bet on it and measured; she lost, but her thigh was half as big again round as mine; then she thew herself on her back and cocked up her legs, opening them for a minute. I said 'Lor, Mary, what ever are you doing?' 'Ah I' said
she, 'women's legs were made to open', and there it ended. I never heard her