My Secret Life

There were gay women standing at doors not far off, common men also at some stood smoking. They understood the habits of the neighbourhood, and never took any notice when a strange man and woman talked together at a door. I did not like to speak to a woman if others, or men were near, and would at times walk about till the coast was clearer. But this girl struck me with strong lust suddenly. “I'll give you a shilling to feel”, said I. No answer, but she kept staring at me. “Half-acrown then”, thinking my offer too small, and stepping inside the passage to get out of sight. “Come in”, I said. She made no reply, never took her back quite from the wall; but turning herself round, continued looking at me, her head slightly moving about as if she did not understand.

Staggered at this behaviour I was coming out again to leave, but her lovely look fixed me. “I'll give you five shillings”, said I, “to have you.” “Have me”, said she, “have me what?” Her voice was thick and broken. She turned into the passage. “Will you let me have you?” “Come and fuck”, said the husky, thick voice. She passed me, stepped heavily into the room, staggered to the bed, and then I saw she was drunk. I had not noticed it before, being absorbed in her fleshy beauty, and the desire to see her cunt, and all of her, and join my body to hers.

There was a single candle in the room, fluttering, and needing snuffing, but no snuffers. I snuffed it with my fingers. The room was in disorder, the pot full, water in the basin, the bed unmade, the whole place the picture of disorderly, drunken, harlotry. A night-gown wa4 lying on the floor, clean linen on a little table. It looked so miserable, that I thouht I would go away at once, so took out five shillings, and laid it down. “There is the money”, I said, “I shant stop.” “Come and fuck”, said she in reply, rolling on to the bed, and pulling up her clothes. She had but a gown on, nothing else. Thighs and legs as white and fat as her neck came into sight, and a thicket of hair at the bottom of her belly as dark as the hair on her head. The sight altered my intention, I walked to the bed, and placed my hand on her cunt. “Fuck me”, she blurted out in her drunken voice again. I felt wild with voluptuous delight, as my eyes gloated on the big breasts and thighs to where her garters and stockings hid the flesh from view. All was dazzling white except a nearly crispy-haired cunt in the middle of it. The contrast was exquisite, was absolutely dazzling.

A strange train of ideas (how oddly they spring up at such times ( came into my head. “You've just had a man”, I said, “your cunt's wet, — you've just been fucked.” “He ain't fucked me for three days,-we have been a drinking gin, we have, — he paid, he hain't fucked me, — you fuck me”, said she making a grab at my prick which was buttoned up yet, — “fuck me, — you shall fuck me.” All this was said in a hoarse, drunken, incoherent manner, but the “fuck me” with a sudden violent energy, as if she suddenly felt a stinging desire to have her cunt stretched. “Fuck, — I'm bloody randy, -where's your prick?”

I took the light, pulled open her thighs, almost put the candle in her cunt. She let me do just as I liked repeating, “Fuck me.” She was beautiful, her white firm flesh, her big round thighs, the lovely globes of her arse would have excited the dead. “Pull off your gown.” “I shant.” “You shall.” I helped her up into a sitting posture, and pulled it off in an instant. Then she fell back naked, showing peeps of black-haired arm-pits. The next instant I was up her, and injected her. How beautiful she seemed as I moved my prick up and down in that cunt, spite of the drunken manner, and the miserable surroundings.