Читаем My Secret Life полностью

I am not clear why, but up till then I had not said what I had heard and seen, but I kept it to myself, although dying to let it out. I again sat at the edge of the barrow, and refused to get up till they both kissed me. They could not go without the barrow, and after a little sham I kissed them both. Then the devil took all control off of me, and as I kissed one I felt outside her till she wriggled away from me. This in the open lane.

“Now”, said she, “Mr. Impudence, I've a good mind to slap your head for doing of that.” “I'm sure you liked it”, — and I went towards her. She ran ahead, and took up a stone. “I'll heave this at you”, said she looking as if she meant it. I desisted, and went back to the barrow, “What's he done?” said the sister who had been standing a little distance off. “I'll tell you bye and bye, — come on. The younger began to handle the barrow, but I sat down on a handle, some one came along. “You will do us harm”, said one of the girls.

“Tell your sister what I did.” “Shan't, — get up.” I then, forgetful of my intention, blurted all out, imitating their voice and manner. “Fuck, hish ! some one will hear”, — a slap. “Fuck, — there then.”

The younger stood like a statue, her mouth opened wide, her lower jaw almost seemed dropping off; the elder stared at me, her eyes nearly out of her head. “Sarah says the bigger it is the better she likes it.” Their faces got blood-red, they stared at each other, then one said, “I wish you'd get up, and let me have my barrow.”

“I saw you both piddle”, then I looked up and down the lane in both directions, I was bursting. “Look”, said I pulling out my prick, “it's as thick and stiff as his, isn't it?” No one was in sight still.

“I wish there was a policeman”, said the elder, “oh! you beast,—we'll tell the police.” One appeared just then in the lane, but the girls appeared to be in no hurry to tell him, but I rose, they wheeled off the barrow as fast as they could, I walking with them. I was a little afraid of the policeman.

We had got to a spot where the lane was crossed by a village-road in which were many good houses. “Oh ! pray leave us, we go down here, we have customers in the road.” “Will you meet me?” “Yes, — but don't follow us.” I did not want to be seen, so we parted, after some arrangements about meeting.

Chapter IX

Returning home. • In the church-yard. • Two female laborers. • Among the tombs. • A sudden piss. An arse on the weeds. • Torn trowsers, and a turd. • In front of the public-house.

They went off, I crossed the road into the church-yard, through its posts at the entrance to prevent cattle passing, and over which with difficulty the girls had got their barrow and baskets. It was a huge church-yard, half of it mere field; at one end the rich were buried, and there were rows of tombs and monuments, the rest was only partially filled with tomb-stones of all sizes. As I entered it two women passed me; they were tall, stout, and dusty, had very short petticoats, and thick hob-nailed boots, dark-blue dresses hung over big haunches, little black shawls no larger than handkerchiefs over their backs. They had big black bonnets cocked right upon the tops of their heads, and seemed women who worked out of doors, agricultural laborers perhaps, or perhaps the wives of bargemen, for there was a canal through the village. They had the strong steady walk, and the body well balanced from the hips that you see in woman engaged in out-door occupations; perhaps they carried strawberries to the London markets in large baskets on their heads, and they walked as firmly as soldiers.

They went past me towards the monuments, both looked at me, and they quickened their pace as they went off. I was dying with want of a fuck. “They are going to piss”, I thought. I knew the spot. We when boys, and I when a youth years before, had laid in wait to see nursemaids and their little charges turn up among the tombs to ease themselves, so I stopped and looked after them.

They heard my footsteps cease, turned round, looked at me, and walked on again. I followed slowly, they walked slower, so did I; they stopped, so did I; one turned round. “Well young man, what do you want following us?” This abashed me for the instant, but my prick standing gave me confidence.

“You are going to piddle, and so am I.” They burst out laughing, then checked themselves, and one said, “Well I'm blessed if you ain't well cheeked young man.” “Arn't you?” “It's no business of yourn what we're a going to do, — go your way, and we'll go ours.” “I'll piddle by the side of you, — I like doing it where a woman does it”, I replied. I was baudily reckless now.

Перейти на страницу:

Похожие книги

100 великих интриг
100 великих интриг

Нередко политические интриги становятся главными двигателями истории. Заговоры, покушения, провокации, аресты, казни, бунты и военные перевороты – все эти события могут составлять только часть одной, хитро спланированной, интриги, начинавшейся с короткой записки, вовремя произнесенной фразы или многозначительного молчания во время важной беседы царствующих особ и закончившейся грандиозным сломом целой эпохи.Суд над Сократом, заговор Катилины, Цезарь и Клеопатра, интриги Мессалины, мрачная слава Старца Горы, заговор Пацци, Варфоломеевская ночь, убийство Валленштейна, таинственная смерть Людвига Баварского, загадки Нюрнбергского процесса… Об этом и многом другом рассказывает очередная книга серии.

Виктор Николаевич Еремин

Биографии и Мемуары / История / Энциклопедии / Образование и наука / Словари и Энциклопедии
«Ахтунг! Покрышкин в воздухе!»
«Ахтунг! Покрышкин в воздухе!»

«Ахтунг! Ахтунг! В небе Покрышкин!» – неслось из всех немецких станций оповещения, стоило ему подняться в воздух, и «непобедимые» эксперты Люфтваффе спешили выйти из боя. «Храбрый из храбрых, вожак, лучший советский ас», – сказано в его наградном листе. Единственный Герой Советского Союза, трижды удостоенный этой высшей награды не после, а во время войны, Александр Иванович Покрышкин был не просто легендой, а живым символом советской авиации. На его боевом счету, только по официальным (сильно заниженным) данным, 59 сбитых самолетов противника. А его девиз «Высота – скорость – маневр – огонь!» стал универсальной «формулой победы» для всех «сталинских соколов».Эта книга предоставляет уникальную возможность увидеть решающие воздушные сражения Великой Отечественной глазами самих асов, из кабин «мессеров» и «фокке-вульфов» и через прицел покрышкинской «Аэрокобры».

Евгений Д Полищук , Евгений Полищук

Биографии и Мемуары / Документальное