My Secret Life

I met in the Strand one night Bessie, who put her arms round me. I repulsed her, she saw her mistake, and followed me to a baudy house. Inside she began kissing me excitedly, and said she was so glad to see me back, that she did not know what she was about. It was not our usual house, I was in a hurry, so after I had fucked her was going away. “What one fuck only!—you have not had me for a year nearly, — I'm damned if you go till you have given me another, — that dear old prick, I've thought of it fifty times when I have been poked.” So I fucked her again, and after-wards resumed seeing her, for she was much to my taste sexually. I had many voluptuous amusements with her which she liked and invited, although I have no recollection of playing any of those curious erotic tricks which gratified me later on in life, nice attitudes being then for the most part enough for me. My balls were running over with sperm in those days, and if I could control myself for a few minutes when my prick was stiff, it was as much as I could do. Bessie was full-blooded, and loved to take her fucking with me. kissing me furiously as her pleasure came on. We used again to pass hours at the house in B. w Street, reading, drinking, talking, and copulating at intervals.

Yet I went after other women for all that, for fresh cunt was irresistable. Once when I had been away I missed her for a few days, then I saw her coming out of a public-house. “Oh! I'm so glad, — I've been locked up, — it's a damned shame”, she cried out, “I was marched off without having said a word by a policeman, — blast him !—and all because I would not let the bugger fuck me one night up in Street, — I'd never let a policeman touch me, — damn them all.” She spoke loud to a man and two or three sympathizing women, a mob began to gather round her, so noisy was she.

I turned as quickly as I could up a side-street, she following me. “Oh ! come my dear, come, — how glad I am to see you, — I did nothing but think of you whilst I was locked up, — oh ! God I'm dying for a fuck, — a whole fortnight I've not had it, and I did nothing but think of you when I frigged myself.” There was a roar of laughter from half-a-dozen women who had followed her. “Shut up”, said some one. “Ain't she a letting out!” said another. “Ain't you ashamed of yourself?” said a third. “It's one of her men”, said another. “She is a nice woman”, said some one else. “It was a damned shame”, said another. “I know him”, said a voice, “he wants every woman in the Strand, and if he don't get them he walks them off.” “Yes the bugger.” “She is just out.” “Yes, and he quodded Mary Summers last night.” “And he is a married man with a large family”, — and so on. I felt overwhelmed, and inclined to run away. She turned into the first house which had a door open, and I was glad when the friendly red-curtained door closed be-hind me, she galloping upstairs in front of me, showing her fat calves. I followed Bessie into a bed-room.

“Five shillings”, said the woman to me. “It's all right, you go, — he's an old friend of mine, — don't bother”, said Bessie pushing the servant out of the room, and slamming the door, then throwing her bon-net on a chair she caught hold of me, gluing her lips to mine, feeling at my trowsers front she cried out, “Let's fuck, — come and fuck me, — I'm dying for you, —a fuck from you, — oh! put your prick up.” She had got it out, threw herself on the bed opening her thighs wide, and showing her cuntal beauties, calliing on me to fuck her. I mounted her immediately, it was impossible to withstand her randy impetuousity; contagious lewdness coursed through my veins.